I

... went through a couple of weeks full of crap.

For one, work was a real bitch. Other than that, I was, all of the sudden, into this whole self - conscious shit mode.

I was thinking about what makes me happy, whether or not I am happy and what makes the people around me happy. Heck, I was even asking my FB what makes him happy, knowing very well that we are never ever going to have a deep meaningful conversation anyway.

Don't get me wrong, I know he is a smart man, but I don't think I am too much of his type for him to have these kinds of conversations with me. Afterall, I am only his FB. I think he would rather have me silent than asking him all these somewhat spiritual shit-ish questions.

For some reason, I don't have the urge to talk to him about stuff too. Unlike how it was with Phil, my last NSA affair (well... he wasn't too thrilled about the whole NSA thing. I was, on the other hand, was fresh out of a fucked up relationship, so NSA is the only way to fly.) I rarely initiate a conversation with this one.

After some time, I kind of feel inadequate with the opposite sex. I somehow feel that I am not good enough for anyone else but myself. Like, maybe... I am offensive.

Besides, this FB is actually a person who I have known for a long time, sometimes I will be thinking to myself, how is this possible? I have never been able to see me having this kind of thing with him before. Never.

Again, people do the darndest things when they are lonely.

Anyway, I was feeling really, kind of... confused the last few weeks.

I have been single for so long that the thought of having a relationship is somewhat... a hassle. I am not thinking about having a relationship, I was actually thinking about how NOT to have one. How to avoid it.

But on somedays, I was thinking that it would be really nice to have someone to talk to. Someone I would be able to cuddle with, spoon with and to maybe... argue with... and to make up with.

Afterall, having a NSA FB can be... taxing. The awkward 15 minutes silence at the end of it all is a killer. You know, the 15 minutes of dressing up and getting ready to leave. The wham-bam-thank-you-maam/sir moment.

Makes me feel dumb. Not sexy... at all.

And as you can clearly make out from my entry... I AM still very much confused.

Now... let me get back to work.