06/08/2005 - 2:58 a.m. | Pj waot.

Shelly woke me from a dream this morning only to see my balls. We both really would have been better off, as I was having such a nice dream, too. I was at Great America, and Lindsay Lohan and I were in love, and I was just about to ride Batman: The Ride with a bunch of Asian people. Lindsay was off running errands or something, and I missed her in that way you miss someone you're first really falling in love with. It was nice.

As an added bonus, I was later reading IMDB or something, and I saw an article about her, and I didn't feel the usual hatred rise up in my throat. Instead it was more like seeing an old friend, "Awww..." Clearly then, if I could just have a lovely dream about every redhead every person, I would be a kinder, friendlier Nate Walsh.

I've gotten so used to the heat that I can't stay downstairs for too long without shivering. I have to sprint back up here just to feel normal again. And that, my friends, is hardly normal at all.

Today, friends, we get to address the uncomfortable topic of emotions. It's strange, though, as I coming at this issue at two very different sides. Let's examine, shall we?

The first began last night when I went to work. Fifth Street was barricaded off. Sort of strange, but I drove on to Fourth, as I could just take John across instead. Nope, Fourth and John barricaded as well. I drove around some more and all entrances to where I needed to be were closed off. Strange. I parked a way's off and made my way there on foot. The power was out, and everything looked all apocolyptic, like the undead masses might come streaming towards me at any time. Check the cookie place, and there is a sign on the door: "Closed due to power outage. We'll re-open ASAP." Thanks for the call, Linds. Anyway, I stopped to talk to two about what was happening (Thank you, "Total Self-Confidence" hypnosis script!) and gave Missy a call 'cause, you know, I'm such a giver.

This is one of those times were I pull a total idiot guy move - where I am making some huge, tragic error and have no idea whatsoever. So I'm talking to Missy, telling her how Smacko's coming here tomorrow, and she's like, "Wait, don't you have to work?" Clearly, I should have just started lying my ass off right here, but Missy is very dedicated to an honest relationship (and besides, I'm an awful liar anyway), so I tell I am not.

This immediately sets of A Thing, wherein it is once again revealed that we have different reactions to our time apart, Missy and I. "But we haven't seen each other in so long," she whines. But we're seeing each other this week, I counter. Less than 48 hours. And she starts in on the thing about how she wouldn't care what was going on, that if she suddenly could be with me two days earlier, she would do it immediately. And what am I supposed to do? "Well, I wouldn't?" I mean, I like Missy, and I really do enjoy her company, but if I start to spend too long with any one person, I usually end up annoyed with them. That's just how I am. I'm already going to be with her Thursday, Friday, Saturday, Sunday, Monday... I just didn't see how it mattered, waiting a day (a day earlier than I'd already told her even) to see a friend I had not seen for even longer than her. Well, it did, and now she was all mad, and what was worse was that she would not admit to being mad, instead saying she was sad and filtering that into guilt for me, Nate Walsh.

Well, fuck, it appears that I eventually have this effect on all girls, as this was starting to sound strangely reminiscent of a conversation with Lisa Yung. I wanted out. I'd already made my mistake, tried to explain myself, and there wasn't anything I could do to fix things except wait, so I told her I wanted to go. I've managed to go this far without hanging up on her (or vice versa), but I must admit, it hasn't been easy. These conversations start to get painful to me, so that I clench my eyes shut and try to think of peaceful things (usually how much I want to leave). So she thinks I'm mad now, which doesn't make any sense whatsoever, so suddenly she's bawling, and she's at her friend Model's house for a birthday party, and I'm sure they're all staring, judging me by proxy, and I have no idea how we'd spiraled down so far or how the hell to get things right again, so it just extends on and on and on, and I don't really know how I got out of it, but I did.

For a while.

Then she calls later that night, and the whole thing starts up again, and she's like, "Don't you have anything to say [regarding the Smacko thing]?" and I'm like, "No. I really don't. I thought I'd explained this already." And then I mentioned that I sort of wished I had just lied about this, which was admittedly a mistake, but hey! The truth just keeps on setting me free, am I right? So she's all sad, and she wants comforting, I can tell, but when this thing comes up (and it does - frequently), I always feel like I'm a step behind. It's like how some people kind of get an anxiety-induced learning disorder and suddenly can't remember anything they studied for a test. Like that but with emotions. It's like I got so sick of getting all involved and emotional in these discussions with Lisa that I gradually learned how to numb all feelings during arguments and stay cold and logical. So I know what I should be saying, nice things and all, but I can't get myself to say them. I'm just not feeling it. I'm not feeling much of anything - my mind is a complete blank, thinking about pyramids and jungles and nothing remotely related to the matter at hand. It's like the ultimate defense mechanism - I can't get mad or sad myself because I'm not vested in the argument at all. And imagine how frustrating that is for the person on the other hand, huh? I don't say much of anything, and when I do, it's usually with a laugh (Secondary theory of emotional defense: You know how you're supposed to smile if you feel bad, and it will make you feel better? I apparently believe the same thing about laughing while talking). So none of this helps at all, right? Frist, because it was practically impossible to explain in the first place, and then because she gets even more upset. "So you don't even know if you love me, are you gonna break up with me, blah blah blah" And I'm like, "No, I only lose emotions when we're arguing..." Makes perfect sense, right?

lol, I am one big pile of fuck up, and I feel so guilty for putting Missy through this same emotional hell I seem to send anyone I get close to through. I mean, I do love her, in my own fashion, but it's nothing like the real love you read about in stories in shit. I mean, I care about her and don't want to hurt her, really, but I am just looking for an excuse for a break. But that's not going to happen because she'd never do anything to hurt me because she loves me so damn much, and ARGH this isn't fair to her. I really wish I had some decent control over myself - not the lack of feeling I had before, but an actual way to bend and shape the way I feel. "You will be crazy in love devoted to Missy." And I would be. But as it is, she only gets what I toss to her, and that isn't all that much.

I'm really starting to think that this might be genetic - that I really am not designed to reproduce, that I was sent down to live and explode and take out as many as I could. Because I really think that I can win anyone over, can make them love me - I've done it three times now, practically on accident - and then I can just drag them through shit without really meaning that either - same three again. I'm designed not to be happy in a relationship yet to always want another. I'm the perfect device for ruining girls, ruining myself at the same time.

So, that's side one, the emotionless fiend. Side two is the emo bitch, directed towards Kyle Wild mostly these days. So, in another attempt to show my loyalty, I start watching this show, "Veronia Mars" (the same show Kyle was staying up late that night to watch), so apparently I can catch up with them and watch the rest together. Then he IMs tonight and goes, "Since you'll be in Kansas for like a week, Shelly and I are going to watch the rest of the show, I think." You fucker. Another knife in the back, I cry, and this time I let him know. And he starts pulling some shit on me, all "We never know when you're around, and you don't even do half the stuff we ask you to anyway blah blah blah," which sure, maybe true, but who ever knows where you guys are either? And if Shelly were out doing God knows what, you'd wait for her, because that's where the loyalty lies. And that's fine... Maybe I'm a little jealous or something, but I can deal with it. just don't ask for that same loyalty out of me, that isn't fair. And he's all, "Shelly just has all this time and doesn't know what to do with herself." Oh boo hoo - I sit up here alone for God knows how many hours a day, and I make due just fine, and you can't even act hurt when I turn you down because you always ALWAYS have someone to do shit with you, and I'm just sort of left to the whims of everyone else.

Yes, I do fully appreciate the irony here. These two sides of me are such polar opposites that, if they could be reconciled, I'd probably end up as some sort of perfect being. As it is, I am just a total fuck up in pretty much every area, which we all know I secretly enjoy a whole lot, and that's probably why things will never get fixed. Because for every time I want to be alone or hate all that emo pseduo-deep bullshit indie fag crap so much, there are just as many times I just want to be close with people and I say such wordy, whiny, mopey things. And so I'm never happy, which sometimes makes me very happy, and I don't even know how to begin working it out. So, yes, as Missy suggested last night, in full-on girl code mode, we just ignore it. The second I stop calling your bluff is the second you stop speaking like that.

My goals for tomorrow night are as follows:

-Get Smacko drunk enough that he'll tell why he is called "Smacko"
-Get Shelly drunk enough that she'll tell about her lesbian dream

All information will of course be passed onto you.