Reminds me of this old tv show called, Dark Shadows, where this one person has this horrific nightmare, ending with a number of doorways to choose from, and as soon as it's told to someone else, that person has the dream, but something else is added. Everyone who's been told this dream has more added to it, seeing a series of doors to chose from. It keeps going until the last person who's told this dream, opens the door and they die.

There was no doorway in my dream.

If I'd had a penis, it would've tented my bedsheet this morning, but as it were, my skin was on fire. I've been fooling myself, thinking that I wasn't interested in anyone, that I was free of love-baggage, liberated from having crushes on anyone presently.

There is one girl I think about, and she's in Vancouver. Part of me would like to think it's because I miss being there, that I'm unsatisfied with my life out here, but it's coupled with that too, not either/or. I even tried to break up our friendship because associating with her as merely a friend while she lived her non-monogomous lifestyle was too painful and humiliating to me. It was after a wedding she'd invited me to, a former co-worker's, and the day we'd spent together made me feel like I was her girlfriend. She drove me home, held my hand and told me I was a "good friend", reassuring our friendship; the pit of my stomache tighten and my heart is sinking lower and lower. Mind you, at the wedding one of her friend's boyfriend had some pot and the three of us smoked it, leaving barely any ashes, and I was a little stoned, so that may have controlled my actions that night I ended up alone in my crappy stinky room. I phoned her and left a message, knowing she was on her way home from dropping me off. When she phoned me back, it started off intimate until I let loose how I felt about settling for "just friends". The conversation got longer, there were tears coming from her while I closed up my feelings trying to be as rational as possible. An hour later, I kept thinking I did the right thing. The following months after that, I'd spy her, feeling a part of me ache, then tuck it away. After I made the decision to move away, I was invited to a party, and because 2 of my good friends couldn't make it, I called her. Many ideas went through my head how things would end up that night, but I cleaned my room and let her store her bike at my place before we left anyway.

The party was dead, but I got my first taste of bartender's root beer: it's now my favorite drink! I did a little dancing with a boyish girl, who'd preferably be called a boi or tranny boi, and that seemed to draw her closer to me. Some girl remarked, "Who let the straight girl in here?" I found that too funny to be offended. Anyway, I was dancing with her, slowly moving into a momentarily-empty bedroom where we got semi-naked, but interruptions ruined that. The night was a blur, but the girl and I poured out into the street after the party, inhaling a few drags from someone's joint, then cabbing it to my place where things got eventually physical. I'm usually apprehensive when it comes to making the first move, but once she planted her lips on mine, I was all over her. It's always great to start up, cool down and then start up again, going into the morning. If I didn't have to go to the origami workshop for the last time, I'd have spent the whole day in bed with her. While riding the greyhound bus back to Winnipeg, she effortlessly lingered in my brain. It's one of those lingerings that you can still feel on your skin. The memory is still there, but her touch isn't as intense as it was almost a year ago.

I always have various feelings swirling around my head, but I always think I have to chose one of them to feel normal.