Balls Harvey

Before I start in on my real thoughts...
did you know...
that the "Happy Face" was created by a commercial artist named Harvey Ball in 1963? He got $45 dollars for the job, and then got royally screwed. Because it became public domain before he could trademark it.
That, my friends is why the stores aren't called Ball-mart!
Fuck that would suck.

Anyhow, today I'm in a visibly better mood. I spent a better part of 3 hours engaged in a text message frenzy with PJ, who is campaigning to get into my pants. I keep telling him "no". He doesn't quite see this as an answer so much as an obstacle. Evidently I need to get over myself. Which makes me laugh, heartily. He thinks, I think, he wants more. He's incorrect. I know he wants more. And I can't give him more. I'm not even sure I can give him sex.

We've fooled around. We've made out. I've even given him a blow-job. But it was all too soon, and I have a working theory that "sex ruins everything" when it happens too soon. I need to see a sex therapist for a shitload of reasons. I have too many issues. I'm not even sure I'm attracted to PJ. He asked me if I was, and I said "a little bit", "I don't know". He's persistent though. And heaven help me, he's soooo sweet. He's the sweetest guy.
But wanna know how I know he wants more than just sex? I have proof. "If there is one thing I realized from meeting you. It's that I know there is still a spark in my heart, and it's not totally broken. So thank you." He texted those words to me today. I texted him back, "That's a beautiful gift PJ. Thank you. I know someone will see that spark and not run from it like me." And I told him he shouldn't be bargaining to give his heart to someone who doesn't want it. To which he replied, "I'm not trying to give you my heart. I'm trying to give you my cock."
Touche PJ.
I wouldn't be so leery if I hadn't campaigned for Scooter quite so diligently with some of the same arguments, that "I'm a grown man"... and "I have no expectations".
It's all fun and games til you lose 65 pounds because you can't eat or sleep at night. True story.
I will never play fast-and-loose with someone's heart.
I need a hooker. Hookers get you off and move on. (So I'm told.)

Speaking of Scooter... last night we went to dinner at Lonestar Texas Grill. I confronted him about "the kiss", and we had our first conversation of depth in almost a year. He fed me ambiguity, and promised to alter his behaviour. I showed my hand and told him I'm still getting over him. We talked neurosis and insecurity. He made me laugh, as always. I felt my love for him reaffirmed, and simultaneously felt the sinking feeling that I'm that much closer to the necessity of letting go. I will let go. I will be his friend. It just hurts.
I had a really great time with him though. And I felt better for having spoken my mind even if he's not brave enough to give me honest answers. It's enough. The fact that we are "not meant to be" is sinking in. I hope.
I also went with a game plan. We're now only going to get together once a month. He said "twice". But I've got distance to cover.

This one's for Harvey Ball. :-)

"Hide And Seek" (Roksonix Dubstep mix) - Imogen Heap
,
Where are we? What the hell is going on?
The dust has only just begun to fall,
Crop circles in the carpet, sinking, feeling.
Spin me round again and rub my eyes.
This can't be happening.
When busy streets a mess with people
would stop to hold their heads heavy.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines.
All those years they were here first.

Oily marks appear on walls
Where pleasure moments hung before.
The takeover, the sweeping insensitivity of this
still life.

Hide and seek.
Trains and sewing machines. (Oh, you won't catch me around here)
Blood and tears,
They were here first.

Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that you only meant well? Well, of course you did.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's all for the best? Because it is.
Mmm, what you say?
Mm, that it's just what we need? And you decided this.
Mmm what you say?
What did she say?

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

Ransom notes keep falling out your mouth.
Mid-sweet talk, newspaper word cut-outs.
Speak no feeling, no I don't believe you.
You don't care a bit. You don't care a bit.

You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.
You don't care a bit.