this entry will not be pretty.

je suis amoureux d'elle. i go to eat at her place and we use two bottles of wine and hypothetical characters named cristophe and annie in order to finally get around to the part where the kisses come in. a drunken night spent together.

she comes over to my place, this time for me to make her dinner. she drinks too much and he calls. from i'm not even sure where. she is drunk and spends almost three hours on the phone with him. she's crying and yelling and insulting, meanwhile i'm in the other room quietly thinking how love is not supposed to be so miserable. she somehow ends up naked with me in bed disrobing me with clumsy grasps and pulls. i hold her all night.

i come over to her place tonight. this time we talk frankly. and more importantly, soberly. she asks if i'm amoureux d'elle. i tell her yes. i ask her if she wants to be with me or with him. and if she does want to be with me, what she'll do for 2 months in china with him. she tells me that she doesn't know, but that in the meantime she wants me to stay the night. we kiss and hold and smell and touch and bite and purr. i go downstairs and who is walking up the stairs while i'm descending them but him. un fucking canny. my horrible horrible luck. i eat my sandwich like an idiot and then take my things and leave, but not before telling her, si tu baises avec lui, j'aurai pas envie de te revoir.

i give up. i know that one has to work for love, but this is too much. this is way to painful to only be the beginning. i should cut my losses and stop. i should listen to some kitsch country song that spouts advice that has never seemed so relevent. i guess you do have to know when to hold 'em and know when to fold 'em.

i am now officially throwing myself out of love. head first hopefully with a heart that will come following after...