No pulse is no excuse not to dance

I have a ponytail!

Also, I’m going to be moping around for a week while Luke is in Phoenix. He basically lives here now. I don’t want to exist while he’s in another time zone and waking up alone.

I basically died when he told me that my apartment is where he wants to be when he’s sick. I wish he would just move in but he’s stuck in a lease. Yeah I know, we’ve been seeing each other for like 3 months, whatever. I just think he’s absolutely wonderful, and I never want him to go away. I want him near me always.

For the most part I’m happy. Almost always. Of course I have down days where I get really insecure and mope around. It’s hard not to get insecure when I think about how he dated some Australian girl and some other girl from Berlin - and how he stopped his life to just fly to these places to be with them. Granted, shit went sour, and he’s with me now. But in my head I fantasize that their these exotic foreign women I’ll never live up to. I’m just some boring girl from Buffalo who wants to wear pajamas, drink wine, and watch Netflix. 

When I told him this, he put it into perspective for me. He said that there was nothing about those girls that was extraordinary. It was his impulsiveness to just go there that makes the stories extraordinary - not the women. And from what I gather, he didn’t know them very long before deciding to travel half way around the world to be with them, and I get the impression they kind of sucked anyway. 

I think it just plays into my shame of being American. Our culture is so dull and simply sloth-like. I’m giving his history meaning. Not him. 

He’s absolutely wonderful to me. He’s so respectful and patient. He’s affectionate in all the right ways and amounts. Never overbearing. Never up my butt. I still have space to be me, with plenty of time to curl up and just be us. It’s better than anything I’ve ever asked for in another human being. Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve it. He’s completely unaware of my past promiscuities and fits of rage, but I’ve never felt the need to share that. He’s never asked, and I’m not that person anymore. 

Either way, he’s gone for a week, and it fucking sucks.