yellowducky's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ramblings We join our intrepid heroine once again. It’s Saturday and Ducky is seated in her office, trying to figure out what she’s doing with her life. I had a job interview yesterday. They liked me; it looks good. They have tuition reimbursement. That’s a huge plus. I would really miss the shelter. I don’t know what I would miss at the shelter, but I would. It’s been a good, though emotionally and physically draining experience. I know it’s time to take a break—my roommates don’t let me watch tv anymore because all the ugly stuff just adds to my stress level. I’ve started to loose my belief in the basic goodness of humanity. It’s time to distance myself from the field for awhile. In other news, I know you are all dying to hear how things are going with my friend from the dance. Well, we went out on a second date. The next day he left me three-dozen roses on my porch. Did that sink in, everyone? Yes, I said three-dozen roses. My normal inclination was to run away and never talk to him again. I restrained myself. I saw him the next day, and he wanted to find out how interested I was about him, because he’s looking for a serious relationship. I told him that while I enjoyed spending time with him, and would definitely be interested in going out with him again, I wasn’t ready to jump into a commitment with him. I asked him to back off and slow down. He said ok. The next day he left three more roses on my porch, along with a note telling me he had decided to continue sending me flowers, and he was “stalking me with flowers” (his phrase) because he admired me so much, and because this way, when my other dates came to pick me up, they would see that I was loved. I was to feel free to tell them my “lover” sent them to me regularly. Last I knew, I hadn’t even held the guy’s hand, let alone become “lovers” with him. After his blatant disregard for my wishes, I felt free to completely ignore him and flirt outrageously with other guys in front of him. I’m trying to decide if I need to tell him why I am doing this. He might just be completely oblivious to how I saw the whole interaction. I interpreted the letter as: I am completely ignoring what you told me. I am psychotically obsessed with you and going to send you flowers because I have an unhealthy view of your personality. I’m also sending you flowers because I want to mark my territory in case other guys come over. This way they’ll know you’re spoken for. By the way, when are we going to become lovers? My interpretation of his actions scares the daylights out of me. I’ve been working on a pretty heavy issue with my therapist. It’s the first thing I’ve worked on with her that I don’t know whether it will get resolved or not. In fact, the more I work on it, the more sad and hopeless I feel. I don’t have my normal avenues of talking it out, either, because it feels so—melodramatic and feeling-sorry-for-myself-ish. I don’t want to share that kind of stuff with my friends. I hate that. Especially because if I were giving advice to someone else, it would make perfect sense, but since it’s something I have to apply to myself, I can’t quite internalize it. Especially because not being to talk about it really is the root of the problem. I know I would help any of my friends through the same issue, but because it’s my issue, it doesn’t need to be talked about. Ugh, sorry, I know this makes no sense without more background, but I’m not ready to give it. Gotta go make some case plans. 11:42 a.m. - June 08, 2002 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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