01/02/2006 - 9:55 p.m. | the pain in my stomach

I spoke to Spritz online the other day, and despite the slim chance that Betsy Cooper Herself could be at the New Year�s party, he seemed more committed to monogamy than I have seen him in quite some time. Which, considering the Theory of Conservation of Attributes Amongst Roommates, means someone has to take up the slack. Damn him.

OK, so I�m not whole hog dedicated to getting me some tail at the party (from what I�ve heard of the guest list, it looks like my best shot would be Dale anyway), but I�ve crossed lines I would never have thought to approach in the past. In other words, the game is afoot. I actually sold the whole flu story to Missy. Well, the flu part was easy. Snort some water, breathe with the mouth, sound miserable, cough frequently � that part was all cake for such an accomplished actor as myself. Getting her not to visit, as Shelly herself predicted, was no easy task. But I seem to subscribe to the method school of acting (me and Blade, motherfuckers) and did I actually have this dread disease and was stuck here for the holidays, I wouldn�t want her coming up to visit me anyway. I am like a hermit when I am sick, reveling in my misery alone. Hate being babied. I told her all of this, but it didn�t stop her from actually accusing me of using this whole thing as an excuse not to see her on Saturday. Of course, I was shocked by her foul accusations, but what it really means is that we are on shaky ground to start with. And that ain�t all, kids. She�s actually going to be in Champaign for some portion of the next couple days, whether I am or not (which is to say, am). She�s giving a ride to her brother and sister-in-law (that having been the plan back when everything was merry), and who knows if she�d stop by the old house just to say hi to everybody? Maybe even stay for the big New Year�s bash! And oh lord, what if I run into her family somewhere? Of course, I would choose the one weekend when Barmanns were in Champaign. Of course! In any case, we�d be quite screwed.

But that appears to be what I want, doesn�t it? I mean, even if the weekend manages to go off without a hitch � if she doesn�t show up, doesn�t see my car parked where ever I hide it (and I will be), doesn�t call at a bad time to hear me screaming in the midst of the drunken chaos, doesn�t somehow contact my parents to drive up and surprise me � girl doesn�t forget anything, and I am bad at the long show. So I let a detail slip or Shelly posts a blog entry with my shoulder in it, or somebody sticks up a facebook picture of me, and there I am, screwed again. Like I said, isn�t that the plan, though?

I mean, I had my shot, my easy way, out a few times now. When I was telling her about the worrisome state she puts me (and my friends) in, she asked, �Well, do you want me to come or not?� And though it would have broken her heart for me to say it then, everyone knows that the lies hurt that much more. I think, secretly, I want to get caught, I want her to get mad, I want her to hate me, and I want her to break us up. Sick, right? But every relationship; it�s been me that does the breaking. I mean, there have been circumstances before� Clearly, I have no qualms with crushing souls (eventually). But all of these, always in my head, there have been doubts that I was making the wrong decision. Maybe I�m just nervous about commitment, that same old sort of thing. And so I stick around, even when I have loopholes you could drive semis through. Missy intentionally makes out with some dude out of spite? Nah, let�s stick around� No, I want the other side to end it, so that I have no choice in the matter at all. I need it, I think, although I don�t know why. Revenge? But I also have this bad habit of getting certain girls strangely fixated on me, so that they�d never want to leave ever, ever, ever. So we start taking matters into our own hands. I plan schemes that I know are hurtful, also knowing that I am no good at schemes (my stomach has been in knots for days, and I see no sign of it letting up), and then I sit and wait. My diary was unlocked! For the longest time! Missy read about my crush on Allison, the time in winter I went there and the weird shit that almost went down. And somehow she was cool with it! How do I beat that?!

At the same time, though, my fatalism is directly opposed by a strong desire to keep things exactly as they are. So yeah, I could probably get Missy to dump my ass if I fucked her best friend right in front of her, but it isn�t �real� unless I make a sincere attempt. So I try my best with my stupid little plan, trying to account for all contingencies, and I�ll warn you now. I�ll probably be a mess the night of the party, running off to closets to place phone calls, posting signs everywhere that say, �NATE WALSH WAS NEVER AT THIS PARTY,� dodging pictures, forcing everyone to sit and rehearse their stories. You will not fuck this up for me, not any of you; that is just common courtesy (besides, you wouldn�t want her there anyway). If it goes wrong, it goes wrong because of fate. That is the only way I see this as acceptable.

Man, this is going to be so great to talk to my future therapist about!