Romance my white ass

Spent loads of time with G on weekend. Same argument from Turkey went on rotation. He said I had said something nasty and cutting, that he couldn't actually remember. I was drunk. He was stoned. Bad energy clashes. Doubt I said anything nasty because I don't have any malicious thoughts about him, but if I did he should pull me up straight away instead of sulking and then laying all these heavy accusations later without any actual examples. It was such a nothing argument - he was obviously stoned and feeling paranoid and sensitive while I was drunk and laery.

The argument was only a pre-cursor to another issue which seems to be on his mind. He brought up my ex - what happened? why did you split? will you see him when you go home? Strange that he brought it up and strange that it is on his mind. Probably because my ticket home is about to be used and G wants to know where my heart is.

Happy to set him straight on a few things but neither of us were in right frame of mind for that talk so I cut off the conversation. The stinger: 'Do you still have feelings for him?' My thoughts: God, I don't know. Probably. I certainly wanted to call him on July 7 and say those words, but what would it have meant to him on the other side of the world? He'd think I was a fool for throwing good love after bad. I don't want to answer that question or deal with that issue. All I know is I get angry when memories of him intrude on my new life.

Because I kinda like this new guy too. Maybe not in a big, intense 'you are the one' way, but enough to feel proud when someone else calls him gorgeous, or get jealous when some girl at work asked him out. And enough to want to protect him and not see him get hurt by this stupid pile of old bones, this history. Enough to put in an effort.

God, when did this whole thing get so heavy? Why is he so into me?

Always unsure how to deal with bad relationship moments, sneaking in as they do between the stream of pretty good. G always tells me he's upset a few days after the fact, which makes me an insensitive oaf for not picking up the signs. I tend to not tell him at all, just deal with it.

Today, post-weekend overdose, sick to death of him and his needs. I just want to run away from the whole thing and live in a treehouse in South America, writing crappy fiction about monkeys and painting self-portraits.

If the 'relationship' could pause at any point, I want to rewind it to cuddling on the deck of the boat in Turkey and looking at the Milky Way.