(sisters of mercy, “lucretia”, slight case of overbombing)
That song’s been stuck in my head for a couple days. I kind of went on a classic goth kick this week – Sisters, Peter Murphy, Dead Can Dance – and the result has been a constant repetition of “Lucretia” in the back of my head.
I saw the Scientist again last night. We went to see “Thank You For Smoking” with some of my girls. After all, I met his friends on Saturday, so I figured it was fair for him to meet some of mine. Later, when we were in bed, talking, I asked, “you don’t feel like this is going too fast with the meeting of the friends and all?”
He kind of shrugged. “My friends like meeting girls I date,” he said.
I honestly don’t know what’s wrong with this boy, because most guys don’t introduce a girl around or admit they’re dating her in this town unless it’s serious. And three dates does not serious make. It has occurred to me that he possibly takes it for a given that he and I will keep seeing each other. After all, there’s no reason not to, and his girl friends certainly liked me. “You’ll be getting MySpace messages pretty soon from another one,” he told me. “She wants to talk about music with you.”
I have a bad tendency to overanalyze everything though. I think it’s because I’m so horrified of the idea of getting emotionally attached to anyone. After all, how many boys have vanished or disappeared in the last couple years? I want to know what’s happening so I can convince myself it’s safe. And I can’t ask that kind of reassurance all the time. And I can’t keep grafting my ex’s committment phobia and emotional closed state onto the Scientist. Of course I’m doing that. And it has to stop.
My friend Wendy reminded me what I should be doing: stop freaking out and just enjoy it for what it is. I’m afraid that if I do that, I’ll wake up one day and be emotionally attached. “You’re still just getting to know each other!” she said. “Stop overthinking!” And that’s what I planned to do, except that I like him more and more each time I see him.
I do need to stop overthinking this, or trying to push it into a relationship just so I can appease my own insecurities. Right now, we like being with each other, and the sex is actually fantastic. There’s ridiculous chemistry. And we have a lot to talk about. Like when he mentioned reading a lot of Vonnegut these days, I said, “I thought ‘Galapagos’ was horribly depressing though!”
“It was, but it was funny!”
“But it was depressing!”
“But it was snarky and depressing!”
Sigh.
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