I dreamt of G last night.

We sat beside each other in a social setting. I don't remember what it was. Perhaps a park, because we were on a bench.

People hummed around us. I recognized them, vaguely, but they steered clear of us. The sun was high summer gold, and the clothes were bright and festive.

There was still hurt in my heart.

"Why didn't you write to me?" I asked him.

A question I often ask, to no one in particular.

He looked at me with that confused puppy dog look, the look he gets when he's trying to make it appear he's doing you a favour, but is really serving himself.

"I thought you never wanted to hear from me again," he told me.

And then no more words were spoken, because there was too much truth in those words.

I wonder if he dreams of me. I wonder if he wakes up sad.

I wonder if he even thinks of me.

I doubt it.

~

I am staying with a friend, this Saturday, when I go up to the other city for my date.

I toyed with the idea of trying to stay at Scott's place, but I decided that no. No more sleeping with boys early on.

Done with that, now.

I still haven't decided whether I like Scott 'like that'. We'll see.

~

My date with Chris went well.

Went to a pub. Had food, easy conversation. I'm still surprised he's not gay.

Back to his place for half glasses of wine, and heated groping on the couch.

"No," I told him, when his hands got too eager.

"But why?" he asked me, all hot onion breath.

"Because," I told him. I didn't have a good reason, except I didn't want to.

~

It felt good, laying on the futon in the half-warmth of a half-glass of wine, and the warmth of his body.

He scooped some hair out of my eyes, and tucked it behind my ear.

I sighed, a big heavy sigh.

"What are you thinking?" he asked me.

"I was thinking," I said, "that it has been a long time since I've been in a position like this."

And then I was seized by the sudden and overwhelming desire to run into the night, away to the safety of my basement.

But I didn't, my readers.

I kept my mouth shut and looked inward and decided that if I couldn't figure out why I wanted to run, I probably shouldn't.

He drove me home, after failing to convince me to stay.

The clock clicked to midnight as I slid my house key home.

.

Rosie.

Before&After