What it comes down to is that I just need to get laid.

Dinner with Papagayo and Muffin was great tonight. I almost feel human again...though it had to be a nonalcoholic night. Papagayo made "mocktails," i.e., grape juice and seltzer. All this hurting is for good cause, though. I finished my stretch of 14+ hour-long days at school with a riveting studio presentation Friday, and commenced the assault on my liver immediately thereafter.

I went to meet my youngest cousin and his new boyfriend for drinks. Per his usual M.O., we ran up an almost-$300 bar tab in completely over-the-top surroundings, this time at the Hudson Hotel bar. His new boyfriend, aside from being 12 years older than my cousin, is French, and pointed out a "very famous French talk show host" sitting just next to us in the lounge. In his sexy English and my ten-year-old French, we managed a wonderful three hours talking about all the important things in life, including growing old, saving the world, conquering fears, finding love, and digital textile design in the fashion industry.

Although I didn't consider myself hungover yesterday, I did eat a leftovers for breakfast in bed, with a generous side of ibuprofen, and reflected upon the two current crushes in my life, both of whom share the same first name and equally unattainable status in the underdeveloped area of my brain reserved for junior high fantasies-cum-obsessions. But I'm sensing something weird with My Friend, and I think it might be sexual tension.

I don't think I fully grasp the meaning of sexual tension. Usually for me, sexual tension only exists in the four seconds it takes to open a condom. I guess that's more like sexual anticipation. When people talk about sexual tension, they're usually talking about the "will we or won't we" hanging in the air between two waffling individuals. I tend to make my mind up early on that we won't, so the uncomfortable tension isn't an issue. And just because my mind precludes it, doesn't mean it's not going to happen. However, I think that this foregone conclusion actually inspires the thought of sex. It's like they can sense that you don't want them, and of course this makes them want you.

I like him as My Friend. I hope the sexual tension is in my head. But if it's not, I'm sure it's probably pretty obvious to everyone else. Someone told me that I had this shit-eating grin on my face when PhD crush was commenting on our group presentation. I giggled and admitted that I had an eensy-weensy crush on the guy. He laughed: "Oh, you think? It's pretty obvious!"
(He also said, "Well, who doesn't [have a crush on him]?" But that's a different story.)

I don't know what it is that I do that makes me so transparent. In my writing it's different, because I say what I mean. But really, what is it that I do that just gives me away? I want to know. And, more importantly, if an outsider can tell, can PhD crush tell? Maybe I should just decide not to have sex with him, which will make him instantly want me. I think that's how it works, at least.

On another boy tangent, Love Affair called me tonight. I have paralyzed myself into inaction about whether or not to call him back. Call him back. Don't call him back. Don't write to him. Don't open his letters. He lives in San Francisco, for fuck's sake. I don't know why you want to keep dragging this out. Seriously, you gotta let this one go. Think of the last time you talked to him in San Francisco. Think of how he couldn't manage to make time for you. Think of how hurt you were then, and how much scotch you drank that night before you had dinner with him because you were afraid you would show him how you really felt. Think of how you were supposed to have coffee with him the day before he left and how he left you hanging, so you didn't even get to say good-bye. Even better, stop calling him Love Affair and start calling him Love Lost. I don't remember exactly what I wrote to him last month, but I must have said something along the lines of sometimes feeling like our affair didn't actually happen, that it was all a dream. If he had never written back, I would have relegated him to a world away.

I do this to myself. I'm a love junkie, and it's a sick disease. Part of me sincerely believes that love cannot exist without pain, and I hold onto those things that are the most painful, because those are the times when I felt the most love. I'd rather hold onto love and pain simultaneously, then let them both go. Of course, I'd rather figure out how to hold onto love and only love, and I'm working on this. This is why I want to call Love Affair back--not to recapture pain, but to replace lost love with friendship.

Hm. Does friendship involve less pain than love? Who can weigh in on this?


And now, this:

Online Videos by Veoh.com

I really identify with all three of the people in this clip.