the dichotomy of my weekend, the good and bad

Here's the kicker-solemn sunday. This is the day I usually come back from home or saturday bliss, to my dorm and reality. This weekend was soooooooo....different from my typical weekend. Friday night, date one happened. Although, I must admit when I agreed to go out I was expecting a normal friend hang out and nothing more. He has a girlfriend I muttered in my mind when awkwardly debating  the intentions of a boy making dinner for a girl and then viewing a movie afterwards. Sounded like a date to me. I had was confident a "little sister" could not turn into a complete "date interest". But my thoughts did no justice to what happened. And so it was. Everything was fine and comfortable, at least until the very end. Feeling protected and out with company instead of tucked away alone in a stuffy room on a friday night, is favorable. A kiss was unplanned and might I add very unexpected. It felt like flesh and that's it. It felt meaningless and so unnecessary. Now I have to fight off his temptations of wanting to kiss me once more by "hanging out soon". No way. I was not ready for that...I feel like a baby. I feel like getting lost. I feel like a girl going through puberty, feeling suckered into a naive situation, with confusion and questions that I don't want answered. There were parts of the night that made me want the other boy, that was meant to be completely erased, real bad. And that's exactly why I knew I wasn't ready for what God delivered through the Christian gentleman. How can you deny homemade spicy sausage rigatoni and getting the door opening treatment (a million times) in one night? Somehow I did and am still. I feel very badly for that. 

Saturday was the best. Despite early wake up and warm up for my last men's basketball game, I was looking forward to post game plans. A massage, manicure and pedicure and party bus, plus chocolate fondue could not go wrong. And it didn't! I had a great time. And I felt like nothing could go wrong anywhere, anymore. I spent the night with my Aunt Shanon and she made us wine sauteed chicken complemented with fresh greens when we got home. We stayed up reminiscing until 2 am and decided to surrender the night. This morning she woke me up with hot vanilla hazelnut tea, an english muffin and egg whites. We got ready for church and I patiently adored jesus. Expressing the faults and areas of my life that needed help, came easily. With that, this evening I took a leap of faith, believing in the homily to let God do what he has to and to try to stop controlling the world. I saw that ponyboy due to incessant invitation. Fear engulfed me and I froze. I had to convince myself after an hour to get going, but a lot of me really wanted to too. And like I assumed, the occasion complicated things once again. I had a fine time. I gotta run away. This important person speaks of so much potential and promise. That he's "not giving up". Clearly he already has. I love dancing, but why am I to be at hand when it's convenient for him. Why must I just gracefully sit like a box of tissues and be used when he just so pleases. Why must I disappear when what makes me happy is beyond the limits of his love and energy. Or when I simply am boring him and the girl across the lunch room sounds more appetizing. I don't get it. And it's simply not fair.I feel like I am not worth it, with him. I feel like I have nothing to offer. And maybe this inferiority is why I am so miserable with him. But when I stand back I realize I have a youthful heart, soul and talents that others are gracious for having in their lives. Talking to him provides absolutely no consolation... just more hurt. Often he has nothing to say. It's really cool how he screws me over once, and then a second time. And I hate to tell myself I told you so, but I must. It's now the month of love and somehow I am in short supply. I adore the taste he leaves in my mouth. What girl wouldn't? 

Note to Self: When invited by an ex to do something safe sounding, think about all possible outcomes before saying yes.