low chi these days. crappy times at work, my first poor performance review of my professional career. 100% of me wants to write it off because he’s an asshole, but there’s always that little voice that worries there’s a grain of truth in there. what if I’m just not that good any more? what if I never was?

need to refocus. thinking about selling the apartment – which I love and put a lot of effort into acquiring – so I can have some cash again and make some different career choices.

ugh. hope this passes soon.

posting later but pre-dating so it fits. G. did send flowers, and they were lovely, but nothing changed. And the next time I went over, there was no toothbrush and I’m pretty sure he’d forgotten there ever was. He’s so sweet but I do suspect managing a number of us, it must be hard to keep it all straight. I know I have a hard enough time with changing sheets and putting out the right brand and size of condom and liquor, etc.

We also had a misunderstanding I’m not proud of. I got the daily date email from the dating site we met on (How About We) with a new date posted from him, and it just devastated me. It was posted the same day we had a date, so he’d done it while he was waiting for me. I didn’t see it until after, the day before I went to Texas, and I was just crushed. I finally sent him an email basically saying I didn’t have any illusions about exclusivity but I still didn’t like seeing the evidence in my inbox — btw, the first email I’d ever sent him. and then there was silence. for days. Did I mention I was crushed?

Well after a few days I ignored it and send him a funny picture text and we resumed our usual back & forth. Fast forward a week or two, and guess what? I had a stack of voice messages I didn’t know about (I’d switched carriers and didn’t set everything up right). He’d called the moment he got the email, had apologized and claimed it was an error while fixing his account. Don’t know if I believe that but definitely appreciate the sentiment. AND I HAD HAD NO IDEA he’d left the message. I felt like a fucking idiot. Glad I didn’t make a bigger deal of it.

Later, saw him for a usual date and neither of us mentioned it. We pretended it didn’t happen, and we had some of the best sex to date. Man, I love that man’s dick.

First date with M., a bank CFO originally from Kosovo, raised in the Bronx. 6’4″, big guy but not entirely comfortable with it, especially in a crowded Spotted Pig. Nice enough guy but a) talked a lot about what he liked and needed in a woman, and b) kept talking about how spare my online profile is, which after a while made me uncomfortable. Am I really supposed to have some list of must-haves and dealbreakers?

He will only date women who are over 5’4″, with light colored eyes, with good hygiene. He can’t date Indian or Asian women because curry smells. Wow, did he really say that? He couldn’t stand the lack of hygiene when he went to visit cousins in Albania.

Maybe I’m being too harsh. But still, not making it to date two.

Update: just got email from him asking me out again. In spite of having absolutely no intention of accepting, it was still surprisingly important to me that he wanted to.

Jesus.

Another sex date from online… disappointing. And I knew it would be, but I just couldn’t stop myself from going through with it. He was so excited I looked like my picture, and actually showed up. But he was small — short and thin — and I’m pretty sure took a cialis or similar when he went to the lavatory at the bar. He came back and wanted to hang out for a bit more before going back to his apartment and then had a raging hard-on on the walk back. sex and even just touching just…. disappointing.

whatever.

ex-boy tags along to the wine dinner with me. we actually saw each other a bunch last week. fine but whatever. now that i don’t want to fuck him i don’t really care.

anyway, we all got pretty drunk and shared a cab back downtown and he basically passed out in the cab so when the three of us got to my stop i relented and told him to come stay over ‘on the couch.’ we both knew he’d sleep in the bed with me but i could barely take the look on v’s face as it was.

so we go to bed, platonically, next to each other. right before we go to sleep, he actually says it out loud: i did love you, annie. you know i do.

and you know what? i wanted it to matter. i wanted it to make a difference. but i just don’t fucking care any more. too little, too late. and i know, truly, that even if it is true, he’s incapable of actually loving me. and i don’t want that, not even a little.

I feel really fat. I need to get my fat ass back to the gym.