Love is a motherfucker.

I've contemplated writing this post for awhile, but have resisted because, well...it makes me feel pathetic. More than pathetic. But you know, I try to be honest with you all for the most part, and so quite honestly, this has been on my mind for awhile, and maybe getting it out will clear the cobwebs out of my brain and help me move on.

So....here goes.

Confession time:

I can't stop thinking about the Ginger.

I know. I know. It's been a fucking year. And he was a jerk to me. And we didn't date that long. And he apologized for the jerkness. And I accepted.

I should have closure. I shouldn't be thinking about him.

But I don't. And I do.

I fantasize about running into him on the street. I look for him when I'm out at bars. I contemplate if I'd replied differently to that apology, things would have turned out another way. I imagine he's thinking about me, somewhere, somehow. I just...wonder.

I don't really want him back. I just need to see him. I just want that moment.

Just to see.

I've analyzed this obsession. I'm pretty sure I only feel this way because he rejected me, and if things had simply run their course, I probably would have lost interest and I would have moved on. But no, he had to pull some asshole bullshit, and I'm left a year later still with these motherfucking feelings.

FUCK.

I'm crazy.

See, I think I accepted the apology too readily. I was so shocked to receive it, via text at 11 at night, no doubt drunken on his part, and I replied without considering my response for more than a few minutes. And so while I accepted his sorry, I'm not sure I really forgave. I never got a change to speak my mind, we didn't have a real conversation. The last time we saw each other he just stopped by for half a second to pick up his wallet, then left. I didn't know it would be the last time I ever saw or spoke to him. I never again heard his voice, or saw his face. His apology was an intangible thing, without weight or substance or meaning to me. He got to get off scot-free, and I never got a real why.

And so I just can't seem to let go.

SO MANY THOUGHTS.

I know there's nothing I can do, unless I want to be the crazy bitch who Facebooks him a year later. Which I definitely do not.

So...this is why I'm dating like crazy. I'm searching. Searching for that connection I felt with him, that spark, that chemistry I have never felt with anyone else. When I first met him, and he kissed my cheek at the end of our first date, I just about died. I want that again. It has to exist, right?

I just want proof that it's out there. That this stupid guy isn't the only one who can make me feel that way.

In the wise words of Samantha Jones...