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i don't know. i really really don't.
i'm tired. i need to sleep. but i need to write this while it's fresh in my mind. today there was a day. maybe before, i had something to say about the day, but after the night, the day doesn't matter.

marie called off work today, because she was sick. at midnight, marie called my house. she said she couldn't sleep, because she had been napping all day. she said her mom was spending the night at the boyfriend's. her mom had called, and marie had really wanted her mom to come home. marie had said she was sick, and she had even said, 'and we don't have any orange juice.'
her mom replied, 'well, i guess you'll have to drink water, then.'
marie had called jeffy, but when she asked him to bring her orange juice, he laughed and hung up on her. i told her i'd bring her some orange juice. and i did.

when i got to her house, she opened the door, and told me to come in. i did. she poured herself some orange juice and sat down on the couch. she patted the spot next to her, and told me to sit down. i did. we watched tv for a little. it was on mtv, and it was the real world. it was an episode about a gay guy. somebody was gay and somebody didn't like it, or thought he should use a different bathroom, or something. all i know is that they kept saying 'gay,' which made me uncomfortable, and it made me want a distraction. so i looked at marie. but she was beautiful and she was close and i wanted very much to be gay with her, and the urge was so overwhelming that i needed a distraction, if i wanted to not rip her clothes off. so i watched the tv. and it just didn't work out very well, since they were both miserable distractions.

she told me that she gets two vacations at work this year, but one of them has to happen late in the year, november or later. i told her to take it on her birthday, and then she could go on a trip. she asked, 'to where?'
i said, 'i don't know, someplace fun.'
'like kyle's?' she asked.
i knew she was thinking of kyle. she's always thinking of kyle, even when i'm so close to her that she's the only thing on my mind, by miles. i hate it. it frustrates me and i don't know what to say so i just talk. 'are you going to marry kyle?' is what i end up saying.
she says, 'no. i don't know who i'll marry. kyle is just good for right now.'
'but he's far away,' i protest. and i'm not, is what i don't add.
'it's good that way, though. you don't want to see somebody every single day, you know?'
i'm silent because i don't know. i want to see marie every single day. i don't understand how you can like somebody, and not feel this insane urge to be close to them, constantly.
she waits for me to agree, and when i don't, she adds, 'except for you. i want to see you every day, because i'm going to live with you.'
'oh,' i say, like i get it. but i don't.

she takes my gloves, then, and sits on them. then she wraps herself in a blanket. so my hands creep under the blanket and between her legs, like it's all innocent, you'd think. to me it's not, though. i like her. she's beautiful. i want to kiss her. i want to reach between her legs again, and forget about the gloves. i want to make her feel good... but i'm 7 so i don't. i just get a glove. and then after a while of wrestling her, i get the other one, too.

she touches my belt, and asks me about it. it's the only one i own. she tells me, as she unbuckles it, that it's odd. i tell her it's not. she tries to take the belt, and i fight with her. this is innocent too, i guess. but to me, she's taking the first step toward taking off my pants, and i don't see how it can't make her feel just a little bit tingly inside, because it's near about killing me to act like i don't feel that way.

while i'm guarding my belt, she grabs the gloves again, and sits on them again. we wrestle. she curls up in a little ball, so i reach my arms around her waist, and around her legs, and around her shoulders, just for the gloves, of course. and when my head ends up pressed against her stomach, it could just be a coincidence that i decided that was the best position to access the gloves. it wasn't, though. i like marie's stomach. i like her legs too, and her arms, and her neck, and her feet and her hands and her breasts and her face and everything.

finally, i get my gloves back. she curls up in the corner of the couch and stretches her legs towards me, so they're by my head. she says, 'good night.'
i know she doesn't sleep on the couch, so i just answer, 'good night,' and i snuggle up against her legs. she reaches down and plays with my hair.

after a little bit, she says, 'ok, it really is bedtime.'
i think that means i'm supposed to leave, but i want just another minute to cuddle with her, so i stall, and tell her, 'but you don't sleep on the couch.'
'nope,' she says, and she gets up off the couch. 'i'm going to my real bed.'
she gathers up the blanket and walks off to her bedroom, and i just sit on the couch, with my belt still undone, wondering if that was my entire goodbye.
she doesn't come back, so i get up and fasten my belt and put my shoes on, and then i realize that she's talking to me, but i can't really understand her, over the tv. i walk down the hall, to her bedroom. she's saying, 'really is a shame that you have such a small bed... it must be a pain to have to sleep in such a small place...'
i peek into her room, and she's in her bed... i want to crawl in bed with her. i remember her saying that when we live together, i could sleep in her bed any time i wanted... i wonder how easy it would be to tell her that i want that. i want that now. i want to curl up in her arms and put my face against her body, so i can smell her. i wish she was quicksand, so when i touched her, she could just suck me in and surround me, and everywhere i looked or touched or smelled, there would be marie.
she notices me in the doorway, and spreads her limbs out to take up the whole bed, and says, 'hmmm... it sure would suck if i couldn't sleep like that.'
'i almost can,' i tell her. 'it's the sideways that i'm most jealous of.'
she turns around and lays sideways, which frees up space across the top and bottom of the bed. i flop sideways across the top of her bed, hug her big stuffed animal, and say, 'some day, i'll have a bed where i can do that too.'
she reaches up and runs her fingers across my palm and says, 'when we live together, you can't sleep in my bed.'
i don't understand, again. why can't i? does she mean this, or is she just saying it like she tells me i can't have my gloves, and she won't live with me if i don't let go of her pockets? i think she means it. i think she changed her mind, and i don't get it. i wonder if it would be different if i had a penis. i ask, 'why not?'
she reaches out and caresses my cheek and looks at me, steady, and it makes me scared that maybe i don't want to know the answer, so i make it about the bed again, and say, 'you can sleep in my little bed, and then i can sleep in your big bed. isn't that a fair trade?'
she laughs and says she doesn't think so.

then that conversation is over, and she plays with my hair and i play with hers. then she says, 'ok, i really have to go to bed now.'
i know that means i have to leave. my mind tells me to get up and go, but my body won't move.
marie gives up, and says, 'go home, debbie.'
'ok,' i agree, but my stupid body still won't move. it sees that i'm in bed, with only a few small inches between it and marie, and it refuses to go anywhere but closer to her.
she grabs my nose and honks it and says, 'you're not going.'
'i know,' i tell her, 'i'm trying, but i guess i'm too comfortable, because something's not cooperating.'
she laughs and says, 'let me play with your nose.'
that's not something i've heard before... she gets out of bed and comes back with this paper clip type thing. she keeps trying to get it by my nose. i don't know what she's going to do with it, but i'm pretty sure that i'm not going to like it, so i keep shaking my head and getting my hands in the way, so she can't do anything. she promises it won't hurt, and says she does it to her own nose every night. she tells me to sit on my hands, and says to just let her try, and i know that i'm not leaving until i get this over with, so i agree, but as soon as i see that thing coming at my nose, my hands forget that they aren't supposed to stop her. she says i'm a baby, and i need to just relax, and i really do try, but i really can't. i am a baby about facing pain. when i have no choice, i'm excellent at tolerating pain and discomfort, but when i see a way to avoid it, i always run away.
finally, she says, 'lay on your back.'
i do.
'now put your hands under you.'
i do, and then she's climbing on top of me, with one leg on either side, and sitting on my stomach and putting her hair up in a ponytail, and it's deja vu. i feel like we're back in my bedroom, and more than i've ever wanted anything, i want her to lower herself onto me, just like she did then, and kiss my lips and my neck, and make me feel good all over...
instead, she goes at my nose with this paper clip. i don't really know what she's doing, but she's pinching and scraping and i whimper and whine and tell her it hurts. she says she's cleaning my nose. i say i'll go home and shower. she says they're tiny little blackheads and showering won't fix that. i say i've never noticed any, and she says they're not noticeable, but they're there. i ask her, 'if they're not noticeable, why do we have to worry about them?'
she doesn't answer me, just scrapes another part of my nose and i shift and manage to free a hand, which holds her hand away from my nose.

eventually, when i don't let her at my nose for a while, she decides that my nose is clean enough, and she gets off me. everything from my pockets is all over her bed. she grabs my money and my lighter and puts it in her pocket. i wrestle her for it, sort of. only it's a little different this time, because by now, i can't even pretend it's just about my stuff. all i want is any excuse to be close to her, so i'm wrapping my arms around her, and holding her against me, even when it doesn't make sense to do so. she leads me out to the main room, and picks up my coat. i refuse to take it from her until she gives me my money. she opens the door and throws my coat outside. then she throws my gloves out there, and then she takes my money and my lighter, and throws that out there too.
i could go out and get it, but then she would shut the door, and that would be the end. that's a terrible goodbye. i want a goodnight hug, i decide. if she would just hug me, i would feel loved, and i could leave and let her go to bed. so i plop down in the middle of her floor and say, 'that was a very jerk thing to do.'
'very jerk, huh?' she teases.
'yeah,' i answer.
she says, 'but you're all set to go home.'
i don't move. i tell her, 'i'm not going outside without a coat. you bring that in here, if you want me to go home.'
so she goes and gets some sandals and goes outside and picks up all the stuff and brings it in to me. i'm still not ready to leave, but i'm out of excuses. i make something up. i ask, 'why are you always mean to me?'
she says, 'i don't know,' and she waits impatiently for me to leave.
'i'm serious,' i tell her, because all of a sudden, i am. this is a very good question.
she says, 'i'm sorry, ok?'
'you're not sorry, you're just saying that so i'll leave. and sorry isn't an answer, anyway.'
she says, 'i don't know, debbie, because you're fun to be mean to. but i'll try to stop, i really will.'
i look at her dubiously. she says gently, 'i mean it. you know i love you, debbie,' and then she pulls me into her arms, and hugs me close, and i hug her back and breath in and for a moment, this is the answer to everything. but then she lets go and the good has created the bad again. a hug is not good enough, because now that i've had one, not having one feels even worse. i can't leave. i need to feel good when i leave. i need just one more hug, and leaving will be ok.

i stall and try to re-word that question, so she'll answer it again, and eventually, she does give me another hug, and i hug her back and nuzzle her neck and it's wonderful and perfect, and then she lets go and says 'goodbye,' and even though it's not abrupt or rude or anything, i feel terrible again. the moment after a hug is worse than the moment before one, and that's not fair...

i need another hug before i go. just one more, and this time, i'll end feeling good, right? but it's stupid to try again, so i put my coat on and move to the door, but before i leave, i say, just stalling, 'let me hurt you.'
she says no. i say, 'please, because you hurt me so often, don't you think it's only fair that for once, you let me win?'
she sighs impatiently, and says ok. then she stands there, waiting, and i can't figure out what to do next. no wonder i never hurt her... i don't even know how. i ask, 'how do i hurt a person?' and she laughs.
she says i can figure it out, and i say i'll bite her finger. she gives me her finger and lets me bite it, so i do, sort of gentle at first, but then i clench my teeth tighter, until finally, she screams, 'ow!!!' and i know it's for real.

i let go, and i grin and act like i'm excited that i finally hurt her, and give her a big tight hug, and then i force myself to let go and walk out the door. she says bye and i say bye and she says she'll call me and talk me into working for her tomorrow, if she still feels sick. i tell her she'll feel better, because i don't want to work. then she shuts the door and it's still not good enough. if i'm leaving her, i don't think it could ever be good enough, no matter how many hugs i get before i leave. even if we were kissing or making out or having sex, if it ended with me leaving, i would feel this empty and lonely and frustrated.

i don't know. it makes so much sense when marie's not with me, and she hasn't been with me recently. then she's just this real distant memory, and to think about her, i have to create a marie in my head. and i think the marie in my head is different. maybe she treats me differently, or maybe i'm just better at reacting to her. but in real life, i think things won't work right. i don't think marie can be temporary. i don't think marie can be anything but everything. or maybe nothing, if things change. but if we keep going like this, she can't be nothing. is it really good to live with a person who is everything?

but do i really have a choice? i already told her i'd live with her. if she really does end up moving out, after all this, i could never back out on her. i know what it's like to feel like you have no place to go, and i know how badly she wants to move out. all along, i've been telling her that i'd live with her, and unless i saw that she had another option, it wouldn't be fair for me to change my mind. and what could i change my mind to, anyway? is it really better to live with nikki? she would hate me, if she knew the truth... isn't it better to be frustrated and myself than it is to be not frustrated, but living a lie? i don't know. all i know is that real live people complicate things, and i wish the world only happened in my head.

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haha, haha, I would go. Well I wouldn't drive all the way there *just* to go to Friday's, but if I was already there... :)
I guess you're different from the other stalker girl, because I don't think you're scary. You might be scary, but at least I don't think you are, yet. That makes a difference, right? hm...Your coming here actually fits in with one of my other subplans which I was about to describe in my other comment...so I'll do it there...

Back to Friday's - why I would even go
It just seems like something so...productive. I don't really know why I should want to go, but it just seems like it would be fun for me, since I would know enough about christine to get excited, but since *I* wouldn't be the one obsessed with her, I wouldn't be so nervous that I would have to die. And of course, if it would help *you* out...we could spend the whole time tracking christine, and you wouldn't have to pretend like you just happened to be at that Friday's like you would if you went with anyone else who didn't know. Yeah, I'm probably being bad, and encouraging an unhealthy obsession, but I figure it's better than the marie obsession, so hey. How exciting. hehehe.

i refuse to think of christine as unhealthy. christine is perfect and anything that relates to her is perfect too. my obsession with christine is therefore not unhealthy; it's perfect. you are encouraging a perfect obsession, which is perfect. let's go to friday's, now!

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