I Need To Find Me.

new old me 1 pic mail notes book host
personal evolution
- - 2005-07-16
hope he doesn't read. it has to be an unsent letter. - 2005-07-07
- - 2005-07-05
- - 2005-06-28
- - 2005-06-26

3:02 p.m. - 2005-02-14

I've told you that M calls me evry now and then,right? at first I thought it was a bad bad idea to conversate for hours and discover how much we can 'still' say to each other. I was very afraid of falling back in love with him (how many times can one make the same mistake? The right answer is: An infinite number). But it works on the contrary. I mean, it is really really great to talk to him. If not for else, to practice Italian ;P. And I am starting to see us as friends or something like that. (what's different is that there is no shadow of that tension that usually occurs between different gender friends. There is another kind of tension.) But after all, not giving up communication totally was a good idea. Instead of pietrifying him into the statue of My First Love...we can be just two normal persons getting on well. And it keeps me equilibrated.
It took a while, though. The first time he called me, back in November...it was terrible. Also when we met afterwards. I could've slapped him in the face, scratch him to the bone for not seeing any of how tormented I was. At least he really seems to me one of the less sensible people i know. Maybe the less sensible one.

I was a woman
who cried at the feet of the man
while he peed.

And little by little, the heart attack got smaller and smaller everytime I heard from him. Especially this year.
*
*
Hey F, we've made it! we are not miserable anymore!
*
*
And now...after talking an hour and a half on the phone I went to a salsa party and spent the night without thinking about him even once.

(okay, I was watching a beautiful man all night immagining him under his terrible clothes, and that was quite distracting :)) Oh my, that magnificent corpus wrapped in a shirt with white and red flowers, jeans and red sneakers. And some incredible Papuan necklace. You know, the only solution seemed to unwrap him. :ppp But we didn't get to this point.
But I danced with many men that accepted my scarse knowledge and ability of salsa and I felt really really damn well.

So that's where I am arrived: from crying metaphisical unloved lover to the shallow girl in miniskirt wanting to unwrap unknown salsa teachers.
How cool is that?

(contra: i am still reading books. Going to see Madama butterfly the day after tomorrow. I went to no more than one drink with my dancers. and chose nonalcoholic ones. :P)