I'm learning about myself over the last couple of days that I am far needier than I give myself credit for. Or that I ever thought possible.
I am accustomed to being on my own and in many ways, I like it that way. I don't have to worry about then I am going to see someone because there is no one to see. I don't have to worry about when he will call because there is no one to call. Being alone has become the easy way out. When I am alone, I see myself as independent, if not a little lonely.
Enter the flavor of the month and suddenly, I find myself wanting to see him as often ass possible. Not every day, but every few days. I find myself bitter at Friday nights alone. Frustrated when there are no plans for Saturday evening either. Pissed that I'm going away for a week and there has been no attempt at visiting, even though the excuses are valid.
And what does that say about me? I'm certainly not staring at the phone, I'm playing in my fabric. And maybe next I will visit with my wheel. I haven't spun in a couple of months and I have a very nice yarn in mind for my brother's Christmas present. Oliver needs to be let out. The kitchen is dirty...And all I can seem to think about is, when will he have time for me?
I feel pathetic. And ridiculous. Petty. And maybe just a little bit normal?
Then I wonder. Was I wrong to give it another chance? Did I agree to try only to be placed somewhere further back in limbo? Somewhere between dating and the hated text message relationship?