The Hair

He came over for cheeseburgers and a movie and for some reason I feel like a whore. Like he's doing the same thing with countless other women. And it doesn't really matter if he is or if he isn't. I was hoping that I would be able to tell him what I've been thinking for the past few days and that I would be able to put my foot down once and for all. I failed. He was in such a good mood, and I was loathe to ruin it. Because that's what I usually do anyway. And I suppose this is partly why I've never broken up with anyone. I can't stand to hurt people. Even if they deserve it.

So now the question is, when do I do it? Do I wait until he's low and then kick him when he's down? In retrospect, he kicked me when I was feeling pretty good, and it didn't seem to phase him too much. All in a day's work, I suppose.

About halfway through the movie I started thinking about my hair. I had it up and the barette was starting to irritate my head. I wanted to take it out and let my hair down. But I made a deal with myself a while ago to not do that around him. Stupid, perhaps, but so far effective. I keep my hair up around him so I can be reminded that I need to keep my guard up as well. I can't let my hair down while he's looking, both figuratively and literally. It seems like the only defense that works against his glib comments and quirky blonde friends. I don't know what else to do.

I could leave the country for a month. Check.
I could stop calling him. Check.

There are other things I could do, but right now I don't know if I can. I'm working on it. But for now I'll stick with the hair.