In Which The Girl Realizes She Won't Ever Be The Girlfriend.

There is no more Bossa Nova. No more new thing. It's just the same old thing over and over.

I saw him last week and had a spectacular time. Flirtations, ass-grabbing, contented sighs, warm hugs, hand holding: all ingredients for a nice night out; fold into one warm evening/early morning, let sit in the parking lot of a local bar for an hour; check back in one hour after you've taken leave of each other to give the girl a good night, a promise of a long-awaited Talk™ the next day, and an ASCII smile.

I was on Clouds Ten through Thirty. Million.

But if you know the story, you know he doesn't call. And stupid me, stupid me with a few PBRs under her belt the next night, and a friend who's too drunk to drive home just yet and wants to take a walk, stupid me and my not-stupid friend end up at Long Lost's house*, just a hop and a skip away, at 2.30 in the morning. Whereupon Long Lost exhibits behavior that is the polar opposite of that which he showed 24 hours prior.

Excellent.

There were moments of niceness, glimpses of the Long Lost I had come to be quite fond of, but mostly, there was prickish, terse, assholery behaviur.

Once all the revelers had either left to walk back to their cars, retired upstairs to sleep, or retired downstairs to do god-knows-what to the crooning of Lionel Richie, we were left alone, save for the elephant in the room.

The very, very, very large elephant in the room.

"So."
"So."
"What did you want to talk about?"
"What do you mean?"
"You said we'd talk tomorrow. It's tomorrow today. What's on your mind?"

I made the sophomoric mistake of thinking that he actually meant what he said the previous day - go figure. What happened then was an hour and a half long circular conversation in which he denied basically everything I thought had happened or was happening - including the trip to Chicago to see my hometeam play on my birthday, his suggestion. That apparently, was "just as friends." Because I know of so many dudes who want to go out of town for a weekend with a girl with whom they have had mutual romantic-ish feelings for: but just as friends.

And along the way, I found myself apologizing for things I had no apology jurisdiction over:
• my feelings
• my interpretation of his feelings, as dissected and discussed by myself along with others
• my being confused because he has been confusing ever since I've known him
• my being an asshole
• basically, me.

Four days later, after a couple of ill-received apology texts from me to him (what. the. fuck. How am I still apologizing?), it hit me. I have nothing to be sorry for, other than the fact that I should be apologizing, readily, steadily, and unceasingly, to myself for putting myself, my brain, my heart, and my emotions through the wringer repeatedly.

At one point that night I told him he was being a dick to me, a statement which, as you can imagine, was probably not the highlight of his night. He got angry and mad and stomped around, but he didn't seem to argue with me. I don't think. I don't know.

I don't need to go into specifics for any of you to understand that I Am Done, of the Stick A Fork In Me varietal. It may have taken me months from the first go, and four nights from the last go, but it's impossible to keep hanging on to this thread. I hope he apologizes to me someday for treating me like one of those fuzzy mice my cats used to love, but I won't expect it; it won't come. I am always wrong in his eyes, he is always right. That's bad enough, but when he has me thinking I'm always wrong, that's a no-fly zone. This isn't an attempt at villainizing him, or victimizing myself: we are both at fault, though right now I'm more inclined to think that my fault was giving him chances too many.

I can't delete the bossa nova tone from my phone (stupid preloaded content...) but I did delete him, or at least his contact info**. I can guarantee this: I will always wonder; but I won't wait anymore, and I won't worry anymore. He means a lot to me, but I mean a lot more to me.

*We did forewarn him that we were stopping by, a fact he seemed not displeased with. But apparently I read all things wrongly, so I am stupid and wrong.
**Not that it helps, because I know his number by heart and every single time I've deleted him before***, he has texted me within a few days - which is how I know his number, from seeing it pop up so frequently.
***Countless times.