Blasted turmoil and all it entails.

So, I lost the balls to call my father. Yes, the wonders of the ball-less me. Yeah, I know--I never thought it would happen either. I guess that's always the way when it comes to my father.

The lesson to all the kiddies is that you can't control people. I can't make people see me the way I really am. I can't make them treat me with an ounce of dignity or even the slightest bit of respect. I can't make them be honest with me.

I'm disturbed at the moment. Really disturbed. It's not something I want to publish in a blog necessarily, but I feel the need to get it out. I guess I will.

Wednesday afternoon an old friend was online while I was on a study break. Turns out he's coming down South for a get-together with relatives. He'll be within 90 minutes of me for the first time in three years--that I know of, anyway. I haven't talked to him since last summer up until that point. I miss him just like I always do when he's gone. That fact remains simply because I enjoy his company. It doesn't make him more special than the rest, it just means that I've let him see a piece of what is the inner me and why that is I'm uncertain. I'm calmer around him. I find myself sitting around or going for a walk with him and his son--and enjoying myself. I've been numb to simple pleasures like that for quite some time. When I find something that makes me have that simple emotion--I think it's called contentment--I cling to it. I hate that I cling to it, but I do. I hate it. Hate it. Weakness sucks. The fact that he's always known however subconsciously how to manipulate that weakness sickens me. He doesn't make me sick, I make me sick. It makes me sick that the people that have this power over me don't really care how hard that opening up process is for me. I'm just another in the line seemingly just like the others and not worth the effort of further investigation. Just convenient at times, but otherwise no valo la pena. (I think I conjugated that verb correctly.)

Let's finish the story though. So, we talk for a few minutes, my wireless goes out, I text him on Yahoo via my cell, he calls. He says he's going to call later and that he'll call "every two minutes" the next day considering I admit my weakness when it comes to bending to his wants. I also tell him that I'm convinced he has a girl like me in at least five different states, he asks why I think that, and I laugh. He tells me he's in between relationships for once, so it's just going to be "me, him and the kid."

He doesn't call later that night and for most of the next day. I leave the next morning to stay with my nephew while Mandy goes to her dentist appointment. I get back to the hotel where I'm currently staying in order to have some peace and quiet so I can work, and I literally have his number on the screen of my phone and he calls.

It's 2:30 p.m. at this point. I've already talked to my Mom and told her the situation, but I'm paying for a hotel room where I am getting a discounted rate because I'm staying for a week. I wanted to tell him that I couldn't go. I really did. But I wanted to go. Well, I tell him all this. I tell him if I had the $40 to pay for two extra days in the room that I'm losing while going to see him, that I'd go to see him--and that is the only reason I'm not in the car and on the way to Tennessee already. He challenges me--in an offer to give me the $40. I laugh. "You aren't going to give me $40," is my response. His response goes something like this: "I just said I would, so if that's the only thing keeping you from coming to Tennessee, you now have no reason not to go." He's right and we hang up. He's going to call when he's about 3 hours away from his destination. I call Mandy and Jenae while packing what I need. I go get my dog's medication, go home, get ready and leave about an hour after he calls.

I go this convoluted back way that looked shorter, but isn't--at all. He calls a couple of different times, I cry a little out of pure frustration. I end up with a $101 ticket in Cleveland, TN--only six miles from the blessed intersections of 64/74 and I-75. I get to the hotel he's staying at and quickly change into PJs, wash my face, brush my teeth, and start playing with my long-lost buddy: his son.

He's promised me previously that we were only going to have dinner and that I could stay the night if I wanted to. He's also promised that it would only be myself and his child in the bed and that we would talk about me staying longer than the night after we had dinner. They had already had dinner considering I'd gotten there so late, and we were all exhausted. They'd been driving all day and I'd spent most of the day with my almost four nephew and I drove for around four and a half of the most frustrating hours of my life.

He looked mostly the same, but he's growing a beard I'd guess. The stubble looks edible on him. I don't know why. I'm usually not a fan of stubble or facial hair, but it wears well on him. He looks exhausted, but with the exception of the new facial hair, he looks the same.

We watched a movie and some CNN (not exciting, I know, but I enjoy the contentment as I said before) and I gave him the tiniest bit of a back rub as he'd insinuated I might have to earlier when we'd talked. His son looks at me and says, "I like that, too." So, instead of Daddy Dearest getting his full back rub, his three-foot tall contemporary sneaks in and steals home.

I go to lay down, whack my head on the head board not once but twice before all is said and done. What is his only comment? No, it's not, "Are you ok?" it's "You're not supposed to do that until the kid falls asleep." I don't even catch the implication as I've received no affection besides a friendly hug when I first got there.

One might bring up the fact that I was clad in a red satin PJ set during this time, but, honestly, it's demure. It's a button up shirt and pants. It's the most demure set I own. A TMI, I know, but I normally sleep in only what I was born with. I have a few night shirts and are reserved for wearing when I'm sick, a practically see-through pair, and another pair that my boobs hang out of. I thought I was choosing wisely with the red satin pair. I may have been right, I may have been wrong, but that really is beside the point.

Anyway, to continue, I put his son in between us since it's become apparent at this point that he's planning on sleeping in the bed with us. He puts his child on the other side of the bed and lays between the two of us. Mentally, I hope I'm going to get snuggles before the night is out. Realistically, I figure it's just a bid to be closer to his son.

To be frank, I got a bit more than my coveted snuggles.

I had a hell of a time falling asleep, so I just scratched his back for awhile. He's on his stomach and is cuddling his child trying to get him to fall asleep. I eventually fall asleep but wake up on my stomach with him pulling up the back of my shirt and putting his hand in the small of my back. I love that. Love it. I was achy from driving and from being so stressed out and the warm weight of his hand was just--soothing. It was sweet. I adored it. I fell back asleep.

I wake up later on my side, him on his back, cuddled up to his chest. I smiled and fell back asleep.

I have no idea how much time has passed but I find myself encased in a sort of human cage later on. Not that it wasn't pleasant, but I was so hot! Not hot as in aroused, but hot as in hace mucho calor. I was burning up. There are two human heaters in this bed with me and they are both wearing less than I am. I was about to die. That's what woke me up. Beside the point...back to the point. I'm on my side, he's on his side behind me--typical spooning position. But, he's snaked his arm under my neck and his arm is going across me and his hand is holding on to the side I'm not laying on. I've had boys kind of lay their hands on my side to the point where their arm usually falls, but I've never been--gripped. It was nice. Anyway, his other arm is wrapped around me from the topside and wrapped underneath my other side. He's got a leg thrown up over one of mine and his head is so close to mine I could feel him breathing. It was nice. I was so hot I still have a little bit of heat rash, but it was nice. So, I just kicked off a bit of the blanket and went back to sleep.

I wake up yet again. I'm a little groggy and cuddle back against him just a bit. The uber-sexy stubble prickled the skin behind my ear right before he kissed the same spot. I thought I might melt. I love that, too. It's such a neglected space. The ears are a fairly common erogenous zone, but the skin behind the ear is a sweet spot that is not as oft traveled.

It was just really sweet. I thought he might still be mostly asleep and being as relationship-prone as he is, I thought it might be habit to kiss whoever he was next to. So, I wait. He kept kissing just about anywhere he could reach without moving anything but his head and neck.

We've known each other since mid-1998. It's been seven years for crying out loud. Nothing even remotely this intimate has happened between us--ever. We've danced around it multiple times, but I just figure that it was bound to happen during this visit. I just never anticipated the next few moments let alone the next twelve hours.

This is where it gets sticky. We've got a four-year-old in the bed with us. I'm kissing a boy that I've wanted to kiss for quite some time. We're both older, more experienced, and completely aware of what could happen. I'm content just kissing him, but he's being a bit persistent. Any girl who has kissed a boy with a new found love for stubble knows the dangers of beard rash. So, as the situation heats up to a point where I'm not exactly comfortable (considering his son is kicking me in his sleep), I tell him to stop. He asked me why and I tell him that no matter how sexy I think his stubble is, that if he wants me to leave the room the next day we're going to have to stop (beard rash worries in full effect). I didn't even consider that he wouldn't want me to see his family. I know his dad and his step-mom and his step-siblings. I know the implications, and, even if I'm not exactly comfortable with having to drive the point that we aren't in a relationship home to relatives of his I'll never see again, I'm willing to do it in order to spend just one whole day with him free of time constraints. It's that important to me. I packed clothes for just that event. I thought he wanted to spend time with me as well. I'm not so sure we have the same definition of "spending time together" anymore.

Anyway, an exasperated sigh from him stops the whole thing. It's 5:30 a.m. at this point. I get very few cuddles after this point and we all stay in bed until 12:00 noon. I've had no coffee and the fat girl hasn't eaten. I'm not hungry anyway. He gets up a few different times to answer the phone about work and then goes outside to smoke. It's only when he stays out there when his son wants to go out to him. The little squirt and I go out to find him and it's then that I realize he's on the phone again. I don't know who he's talking to, but it's just a bad flashback of a caustic ex. This particular ex used to leave the room all the time. Leaving the room when he thought I was sleeping to call his then girlfriend that I thought he'd broken up with the week before was commonplace. I never found out until after the fact. It's bad ju-ju.

My stomach fell when I saw him out there. For the first time, I doubted that he'd told me the truth about being in between relationships. We used to sneak around simply because of the nature of his relationship with his ex, and I always beleived him about the lack of romantic relationship between them. Of course, that was simply because his family confirmed it. I remember his Dad telling me on at least one occasion, "Don't let her scare you off. You fit in and we like you." So, I stuck around. But that was three years ago.

Well, I took some pictures of them in the pool after I'd called a couple of people and had a morning (er, afternoon) jolt of nicoteine (sp?), and then took a shower. I asked him what I was going to do. He asked what I meant. I told him that it was after 1:00 p.m. and if I wanted to miss Friday Afternoon Atlanta Traffic (it's notorious) that I had to leave really soon. I tell him he has fifteen minutes to decide what I'm going to do. He comments on the speed at which the first five minutes passes. Hey, it's my time-restraint, it's my perogative.

He finally decides that it'll be better for me to go back to Atlanta. He says that he's going to try to get in touch with another old friend (a guy, thankfully) and that he might come down to Atlanta before the weekend is over. He gives his son a breathing treatment and tries to fix his hair then comments that maybe I could do a better job. I manage to get a couple of hugs and a kiss on the shoulder before I leave. He also promises to call that night (to which I comment about the inability I have to depend on him) and let me know what the plans are.

Surprise, surprise--he doesn't and I have yet to hear from him. I called and left him a message telling him that I needed an address to send the pictures of him in the pool with his kid to--if he even wants them. I prayed that the voicemail would pick up when I called and I thank God for that small favor. I doubt I hear from him for another six months--at least. I actually wouldn't be surprised if I didn't ever hear from him again unless it becomes convenient for him again.

I need to embrace the fact that it isn't about me--it's about the convenience that I offer. It's about the companionship that I offer, and he's addicted to companionship. He's not the boy I'm going to marry, so I have no reason to forgive him for this kind of treatment. I will if he asked just because I'm a glutton for punishment--but he won't ever ask for it. He'll offer a simple "I'm sorry" and I'll be expected to "quit my bitching." I may deserve more than that or I may just be a whiner.

I think I at least deserved a phone call before the weekend was out. I possibly deserved even more than that. For how many times I've done everything he's asked me to do except hop on top of him, I think I deserved more. He gets upset about girls not liking the idea that he has a child, but it doesn't bother me. Maybe I permit too much. I was a little sad when I found out that he'd had a child, but I still saw him again after that.

I wonder what I'll do when I find the person that cares about the sensitivity of my feelings. I wonder what it'll be like when I find a guy that has staying power even when it isn't convenient for him. I wonder what it'll be like to find someone that runs around after me just as much as I run around after him. I wonder if I'll ever find that person.

Last night I couldn't sleep because my mind just wouldn't shut off. I called Joel and decided to go out with him and his friends for a bit. His friend Alex and I talked for a long time. We were outside the bar when Alex walked up behind me and wrapped his arms around my stomach, his head resting on my shoulder. His stubble tickled the skin behind my ear and a chill went up my spine. I remembered where I'd been just two nights before and I just wanted to cry. I spent the night at Joel's just to have someone near me that cared that I wasn't ok but wouldn't make me talk about it. I acutally slept last night just because I felt safe and cared about. The boy I've been talking about this whole time hated it when I'd bring Joel with me to see him at the restaurant where he worked. Joel is my best male friend and he was willing to go sit with me while I waited for this particular boy to give me just the slightest bit of attention. I used to laugh at the little tinge of jealousy I sensed. It was nice.

It's probably unfair to say that my comrad in the Tennessee Adventure has never cared anything for me. It might even be unfair to say he doesn't care for me at all now. I just know he's not being honest with me in some respect. That fact makes my stomach hurt. I don't know why exactly. It shouldn't hurt considering that he lives in Michigan and I live in Georgia. I'm not going up there, he's not coming down here. It's not practical. It still hurts though.