You cut me open and I keep bleeding.

The thing is, I don't want to get into the Tim thing again. It's hard not to when approaching the subject of love with me. In fact, it's nearly impossible. Every guy I've had in my life is compared to him, and they all seem to fall so short.

I recently went on a couple of dates with a guy I've known since Junior High. You may even remember him, G, since he was around our crowd back in the day. I had been talking to him online, he seemed to have grown out of whatever made him undatable in the past. I was totally wrong.

PART 1:

He was okay but I wasn't enthused with him. I wasn't completely put off, but in retrospect that may have been because of the booze. He was smart, not condescending. He wasn't my type at all, but in some lights I found him really cute. Seemed to enjoy my company and willing to take it slow with me. We had a few drinks and dinner; I felt insanely nervous and paid more attention making sure I didn't say/do anything crazy. He was a toned down version of the guy I would see on the next date.

The feeling I had was mostly a curious one. I didn't know if the annoying things about him were on party because of nerves. I hoped that I could get to know him better and he wouldn't be such a goofball. He gave me a little kiss at the end of it, and he pulled away as such to pique my interest. The way he ended the kiss was almost a stance of authority, and I liked it. Even pondered it for awhile.

PART 2:

He picked me up and my friend Karla was outside with me. She gave him the kind of look parents have for the mess their kid tells them she's going to marry instead of going to college. This was a little off putting for me, especially since his reaction seemed to be pretty negative. The date had already begun on a bad note.

Everything, and I mean everything he said was to be treated as a punch line to some unending joke. He was no comedian. Yet, what bothered me the most was that his hands were perpetually dirty. He had one of those jobs that does that, and I understood , but I still didn't want him touching me with those grubby mitts.

We ate at a cute little restaurant which I was enamored with, then he took me to his apartment.

It smelled of gas [apparently issues with the heating system] which was forgivable, but the smell never dissipated, making me feel uncomfortable. The apartment was dirty with the appearance of a frat-boy party house, all but the beer bong was missing.

Contrasting that was his roommate, who had a young daughter hanging on him like a cute little monkey. I was very attracted to him, and when my date got closer to me, I began fantasizing about the roommate. Even looking for hints of a mommy in the apartment, until I woke up and realized that I was grasping for boy straws.

We watched "Knocked Up", a movie about a girl who gets pregnant by someone hideously below her standards. He's dirty, he's chubby, and he's poor. All I could do was look at my date and feel her pain. Feel it touching my leg and batting eyes at me like I should be bracing for a kiss.

Of course, there will be no third date.

At one point he told me that I looked like I had a novicain shot to the face. I wanted to explain that my face is very expressive, and I was afraid that I would kill him with what was going on in my head.

Another bad attempt at love gone very wrong once again.

My thinking was this: I once fell for a guy who had initially turned me off. Fell harder than anything I ever thought possible. If he had been a date, I wouldn't have gone on a second one. I know I've thrown out a few guys with real possibility because I wasn't excited, and there's guilt because of that. I thought that if I start giving sub-par guys a chance, maybe they will surprise me. Maybe he would make it worthwhile. Why couldn't he?!

It seems like I'm now in a rut.

I won't allow myself to take the wall down because they're not HIM. I don't look at them and feel that. Therefor, I can't move forward because I'm stuck in that past, in that emotion. I know it's possible to have the "real thing", I can pinpoint exactly what it is.

I feel like I won't move on until I find it again.