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2001-05-09 - 1:20 a.m. I start out the night by waiting for the guy. I walk into the bar next door to the restaurant, and happen to get a seat next to an older man – lawyer, who I think may be somewhat famous – and have a great talk with him. I am loving the fact that this older man, who could be my grandfather, is loving talking to me. He is confused why “Mr. Wonderful” doesn’t want to be with me. He made me feel like a queen. And then my date showed up. I had a nice date tonight. But...It’s not gonna work. I told him that the least attractive thing about him to me was the fact that I thought he was "weak" when it comes to relationships...and he went into a tirade about how he's NOT "weak". But, the thing that pisses me off is that if you're on a fifth date with someone like me, and I tell you that one of my secrets is that I have psychological issues... do you turn the conversation back on yourself? No. You ask more. As I’m writing this, I get a call…a random, but SO timely a call… What the hell are you doing to me?! Every time I begin to fall for someone, you call me. I know that you are in a place where you can’t give me what I want but…you have eerily perfect timing. I sit there, writing to my diary…and you call. I’m writing about this guy that I am beginning to like, who I think may be cool, and you call. Perhaps to remind me that I deserve better. That I deserve someone like you. But you live in San Francisco. That’s not fair. I want you to come here now, to be here now. But you can’t. Crap. We talk about your shitty life that’s been happening in the past couple weeks. It has been shitty. I give you a couple of ideas to make it a bit better. You ask me about my life. You care. You listen. You tease me about influencing the boys we know. I call you on it. You laugh. WHY can’t you be here? If you were here, would this be as great as it is (in my mind)? No. That’s what pisses me off the most.
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