Last night (if you can rightly call 5:45am night) I was lying in bed, completely at the end of my rope over my hopeless tangle of men.
First of all, the 7-11 kid has a girlfriend, who loiters around the store and keeps us from having our interesting conversations. She was there last night and totally ruined my careful planning and happy little fantasy of enticing him off into the night :(
Then of course, there is always that nighttime pit called the hopelessness of being alone. Remembering every nice thing that JC ever did for me, remembering every asshole thing he ever did to me...replaying in vivid detail the day he left and the way I felt...I don't mean to get on that track, but no matter where I start, more than likely it'll turn to thoughts of JC, and consequently how badly it all ended, even when there was so much hope to start.
Of course, for variety sometimes I like to think of Jon. It was easier when we had just had some amazingly hot sex. These days though, it's so much easier to just imagine him happy-ing along through his life with his own fucking girlfriend.
So anyway, It's 5:45am, and i'm fitfully rolling about trying to settle on some thought other than my impending paper deadline so I can just get some godforsaken sleep, rejecting each man in turn because of the queasy feeling I get in my stomach, when all of a sudden my phone rings, and it's Jon. He *always* knows when I'm at the end of my rope with him, and does exactly whatever he needs to.
Of course, I didn't answer it. I almost figured it was one of thsoe half-dreams you have when you are finally falling off to sleep, and couldn't bring myself to do more than just stare at the phone.
A few minutes later and I had a voicemail. A long one. He talked about how he was going to have his week off from work soon, and come see me, and all of that other good shit girls love to hear. It was exactly the thing I needed, and I was finally able to sleep.
