Saturday, October 18, 2008

Crying Over a Man

The last time I was up at this hour crying over a man was, I think, the week after the Big X and I broke up. The whole week.

Oh, Bother

It bothers me that J did not come home tonight. I know that it shouldn't; we've never made each other any real promises. And he's not come home in the past. And this isn't home to him anyway; he has his own place still, even if the cable and internet have both been shut off for months. And we've both gone on trips without the other, not coming home for days.

But it does bother me.

There has been very little in the ten or so months since we've started dating that has bothered me. But now I'm bothered.

And that bothers me.

On a night when he was out, presumably at the bar, and the bars closed 2 1/2 hours ago, it bothers me that he hasn't come home or called. I really, really hate that it bothers me. In fact, it bothers me more that I'm bothered than his not coming home bothers me to begin with. I've worked very hard for a very long time to not let my heart be in a position to be bothered by a man's actions.

And now I don't know what to do.