Holidaze.
This trip hasn't gone at all the way I was expecting it. Much of the time was spent holed up in Luke and Shannon's apartment watching Aqua Teen Hunger Force and the History Channel. They're both sick and they're both homebodies. I managed to get out a bit and see some friends when I could, but even that wasn't as planned: One night out to the Meanwhile with 2 friends, which I cut short because Shannon ended up going to the hospital. One afternoon at the 76 with 2 different friends. One night in with a friend which went from fantastique to awkward when kisses were introduced--don't worry, I explained that I was seeing someone and when it didn't stop, I left. One afternoon at 4th Coast with 3 other friends. Two nights with my family.
I feel like I've let Luke down. Like I'm not as wonderful as he thought I was and that must be why he barely touched me and was distant most of the week. He preferred probing my mind and working on this hoodie he's been sewing out of found fabric scraps (which admittedly is really fucking cool) and hermiting himself into his room. I felt in the way moreso than I felt like a guest, like a girlfriend. Like he was disappointed in me, that I wasn't the girl he'd put on a pedestal and built up in his mind. We made out twice the entire week I shared his bed. My first night in, he debated ethics and philosophy all night rather than trying to sleep with me. There has to be something wrong with me that he's too nice to point out.
Don't get me wrong, he did lots of little sweet things for me. One of the things we discussed was how life was like a game of Battle Ship, and how when you miss you should just try a different peg instead of beating yourself up over it. He found a red Battle Ship peg and made a necklace out of it the next day. He held my hand when we walked places, the times we did leave. He cooked a vegan lunch for me and he kept me well stocked for the week in recreational chemicals.
So I just don't know what to make of it.
I feel like I've let Luke down. Like I'm not as wonderful as he thought I was and that must be why he barely touched me and was distant most of the week. He preferred probing my mind and working on this hoodie he's been sewing out of found fabric scraps (which admittedly is really fucking cool) and hermiting himself into his room. I felt in the way moreso than I felt like a guest, like a girlfriend. Like he was disappointed in me, that I wasn't the girl he'd put on a pedestal and built up in his mind. We made out twice the entire week I shared his bed. My first night in, he debated ethics and philosophy all night rather than trying to sleep with me. There has to be something wrong with me that he's too nice to point out.
Don't get me wrong, he did lots of little sweet things for me. One of the things we discussed was how life was like a game of Battle Ship, and how when you miss you should just try a different peg instead of beating yourself up over it. He found a red Battle Ship peg and made a necklace out of it the next day. He held my hand when we walked places, the times we did leave. He cooked a vegan lunch for me and he kept me well stocked for the week in recreational chemicals.
So I just don't know what to make of it.