Moral compasses are BULLSHIT!
The entire situation, which I will bitch about shortly, has nothing to do with morality nor guilt. It has everything to do with the fact that I opened my big mouth and let my feelings spill into a pillow that spit it right back for people (a certain person, rather) to hear. And he got scared.
Joe is feeling guilty. Turns out, as he so coyly stated, he has morals afterall.
Right.
A man does not get morals within a week's time. He might find God; I've heard that sort of thing can happen, but not morals. No, with morals you are born. You don't just find them, or have them show up after four years of missing them. Once you go against these so-called "morals," the rest of the sitch doesn't really matter. Nope. The deed is done. Can't go back. Cannot pass "Go" and sure as shit cannot collect $200.
Although I would love to, but I'd charge at least $500 for passing through my GO box.
Four years.
Four years.
And now he feels guilty.
Couldn't be the girlfriend factor; nope, slept with him in November while he still had a girlfriend and when I freaked out about it, he replied with a "Let me worry about that."
Really? I mean, c'mon. Really?!
Couldn't be the Army factor; nope, we make it a point to see each other when he's home.
Distance hasn't really affected that aspect of our relationship.
And it definitely isn't a bad sex issue - - - we're good, and I mean good. And you don't have good sex like we have good sex without some kind of connection. Sure, according to Cosmo anyone can have good sex with anyone (but 9 times out of 10, "anyone" has to work at it). We don't (or didn't) have to work at it. Not to mention, that man has NEVER left my shag-sessions unsatisfied.
If only I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" on a daily basis. Because I did it. I did it. I did the girl thing: I blew everything out of proportion - the effort made to drive out of his way to see me; the paying of dinner, the movie and the hotel room; his response of "That's not the case" when I mentioned the title of "He's Just Not That Into You"; the gift of a portion of his uniform before I got out of his car; the hug we gave each other before he drove out of my driveway (we don't hug)... I could go on. I thought all of these things were pointing in some kind of direction that had me, at the end of the day, playing a bigger part in his life.
Nope. Stupid, insignificant details that I analyzed and paraded in public as if they meant something. But they didn't.
Morals do not just pop up. You're born with them. They're like birthmarks - you have them when you pop out of the womb and they're there, sometimes smaller then when first appeared, but there. Like the pain from a broken finger or torn ligament when it rains; you forget you were injured until that humidity and change in pressure sets in - you're not injured anymore, but the damage is done. Morals = same fucking thing.
And I could defend him and say that he doesn't want to hurt me or continue to make me "dazed and confused." But it's bullshit. I say one thing about my feelings and now, when I could be getting too close, he has morals? Bullshit! I mean, I wanted a response but this new archeological discovery of morals was not what I was looking for.
What kills me is the following:
Maybe he's right. Maybe the whole thing was a bad idea. What started as an accidental slip of control (and the giving in of three years worth of sexual tension) turned into something on which I started to depend: a scratching post to cure the constant plague of itches. Maybe he knows I've grown attached to him on a greater level than we both anticipated. Maybe he knows I'm in love with him and stopping this madness is really to keep me with a broken heart instead of one that's shattered.
But then this REALLY gets me:
Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he knows it's right; that he and I are right and he's freaking out. Maybe he feels trapped in his current relationship and I'm the easy dump. It is always easier, as my mother tells me often, to get rid of the junk and keep the class.
Or maybe I'm doing the girl thing again... I just refuse to believe that after all of this kid's actions, past and present, that a discovery of morals is what holds him back or gives him leave to end it.
I asked him once, "What is it between us?" (It's a line from Dawson's Creek and only I would a) know that Dawson says it to Joey and b) use it in real life). Joseph's answer, "It's what we are. If we saw each other more, it'd happen more often."
You don't say that sort of shit to me and then 8 months later play the morality card. No, no. Not this chickadee.
There's a pull, some kind of crazy "Use the Force, Luke" scenario, between the two of us. It's undeniable. I don't hang on this long if I don't feel like it's worth it.
So there he is, sittin' pretty with his new code of conduct and I sulk here, with nothing. Nothing but angry words that prove and get me nothing. Not relief, not remedy and most certainly not revenge.
It's too bad I don't have morals to fall back on.
Joe is feeling guilty. Turns out, as he so coyly stated, he has morals afterall.
Right.
A man does not get morals within a week's time. He might find God; I've heard that sort of thing can happen, but not morals. No, with morals you are born. You don't just find them, or have them show up after four years of missing them. Once you go against these so-called "morals," the rest of the sitch doesn't really matter. Nope. The deed is done. Can't go back. Cannot pass "Go" and sure as shit cannot collect $200.
Although I would love to, but I'd charge at least $500 for passing through my GO box.
Four years.
Four years.
And now he feels guilty.
Couldn't be the girlfriend factor; nope, slept with him in November while he still had a girlfriend and when I freaked out about it, he replied with a "Let me worry about that."
Really? I mean, c'mon. Really?!
Couldn't be the Army factor; nope, we make it a point to see each other when he's home.
Distance hasn't really affected that aspect of our relationship.
And it definitely isn't a bad sex issue - - - we're good, and I mean good. And you don't have good sex like we have good sex without some kind of connection. Sure, according to Cosmo anyone can have good sex with anyone (but 9 times out of 10, "anyone" has to work at it). We don't (or didn't) have to work at it. Not to mention, that man has NEVER left my shag-sessions unsatisfied.
If only I watched "He's Just Not That Into You" on a daily basis. Because I did it. I did it. I did the girl thing: I blew everything out of proportion - the effort made to drive out of his way to see me; the paying of dinner, the movie and the hotel room; his response of "That's not the case" when I mentioned the title of "He's Just Not That Into You"; the gift of a portion of his uniform before I got out of his car; the hug we gave each other before he drove out of my driveway (we don't hug)... I could go on. I thought all of these things were pointing in some kind of direction that had me, at the end of the day, playing a bigger part in his life.
Nope. Stupid, insignificant details that I analyzed and paraded in public as if they meant something. But they didn't.
Morals do not just pop up. You're born with them. They're like birthmarks - you have them when you pop out of the womb and they're there, sometimes smaller then when first appeared, but there. Like the pain from a broken finger or torn ligament when it rains; you forget you were injured until that humidity and change in pressure sets in - you're not injured anymore, but the damage is done. Morals = same fucking thing.
And I could defend him and say that he doesn't want to hurt me or continue to make me "dazed and confused." But it's bullshit. I say one thing about my feelings and now, when I could be getting too close, he has morals? Bullshit! I mean, I wanted a response but this new archeological discovery of morals was not what I was looking for.
What kills me is the following:
Maybe he's right. Maybe the whole thing was a bad idea. What started as an accidental slip of control (and the giving in of three years worth of sexual tension) turned into something on which I started to depend: a scratching post to cure the constant plague of itches. Maybe he knows I've grown attached to him on a greater level than we both anticipated. Maybe he knows I'm in love with him and stopping this madness is really to keep me with a broken heart instead of one that's shattered.
But then this REALLY gets me:
Maybe he's wrong. Maybe he knows it's right; that he and I are right and he's freaking out. Maybe he feels trapped in his current relationship and I'm the easy dump. It is always easier, as my mother tells me often, to get rid of the junk and keep the class.
Or maybe I'm doing the girl thing again... I just refuse to believe that after all of this kid's actions, past and present, that a discovery of morals is what holds him back or gives him leave to end it.
I asked him once, "What is it between us?" (It's a line from Dawson's Creek and only I would a) know that Dawson says it to Joey and b) use it in real life). Joseph's answer, "It's what we are. If we saw each other more, it'd happen more often."
You don't say that sort of shit to me and then 8 months later play the morality card. No, no. Not this chickadee.
There's a pull, some kind of crazy "Use the Force, Luke" scenario, between the two of us. It's undeniable. I don't hang on this long if I don't feel like it's worth it.
So there he is, sittin' pretty with his new code of conduct and I sulk here, with nothing. Nothing but angry words that prove and get me nothing. Not relief, not remedy and most certainly not revenge.
It's too bad I don't have morals to fall back on.