Part V:

(Hey, look--I posted this right today! If you missed the first 4 parts, scroll down and read up)

I thought about detailing the rest of Sunday night, but I've come to the conclusion that some things are better left unwritten. It doesn't matter. I dropped her off at her apartment at 11:30 am on Monday, almost 24 hours had passed since we met up. After not even having written contact for 2 years, to say that I'm baffled is an understatement.

As of right now, I'm not all that worried about where this is heading. I've done that before, and I already know that it just doesn't work. There are some things that I have figured out, though.

• Something is different
  I don't know quite know how to explain it, but Emily is not the same person that I remember from two years ago. She's not worse, definitely not worse, just different. From the steps she takes to initiate physical contact--like holding hands, you sick-fucks--to the way she kisses me, all the way down to spending the entire day together and not getting the impression that she had somewhere else to be--it's all different.
  
  I don't know if it's because she feels terrible for the way she treated me--which she should--and she's trying to make up for lost time, or if there's another motive behind it. I've spent so long being there for this girl, that it's nice, for once, to have her respond in kind, even if the moment is fleeting.
  
  Yes, yes, I know. It's only been a few days. I'm not holding my breath.

• I'm sick of pussyfooting around our issues
  Two years is a long time to think about something like this. I look back and realize that there are times that I let her run over me. I don't feel that she did it intentionally, but I was there to be an emotional chew-toy--just there to gnaw on for awhile and then spit out when something else tickled her fancy.
  
  Hi, I'm a pussy sometimes. Fuck that.
  
  I get nothing out of being timid with her, and blunt and honest is now the name of the game. What do I have to lose? Absolutely nothing.
  
  "You know, I'm sick of always being second best, or always taking a back seat to everything else in your life, whether that be another guy, your career goals, or whatever. I just don't think I fucking deserve that." I said while we were laying in bed yesterday morning.
  
  The only response she could give was a pained frown and timid stammering.
  
  I don't expect anything from her this time around. I don't expect that she'll finally realize that we're perfect together, and that we're the only people responsible for making this 10,000,000x more difficult than need be. I would, however, appreciate a little of the respect that I've been doling out to her for close to the last decade. I don't expect it, but it sure would be nice.

• We will never have a platonic relationship
  There is no way in Jesus-tapdancing-Christ that we'll ever be "just friends". Been there, done that, and we both know that we're too sexually and physically charged together to ever have that work in the long run. Almost a decade we've been doing this. We part, have a reunion, part, have a reunion and each and every time we meet again, the attraction is still there, and it's like we never spent any time away. There is a reason for it. What is it? Who-the-fuck knows.
  
  You know how when you break up with someone, and the next time you see them that feeling you once got from just by having them near isn't there? That's never happened between Emily and I. We now have come to grips that we'll be doing the same thing 10 years from today, as well. Unless someone is run over by a steamroller, we are bound to repeat the cycle again.
  
  So, what are our options?
  
  We could, of course, continue to relearn how great it feels to be around each other. You know, hanging out, talking, laughing, drinking, ending up together in bed when the mood strikes us, which oddly enough, sounds like a real relationship, only minus the label of boyfriend/girlfriend.
  
  Hi, could we lie to ourselves even more?
  
  I've had that type of relationship before, and they can be so much fun. Really, they can. The problem arises when one person finds someone else that they like to date, and hello, that relegates me to second best again. Huh.
  
  We both know that washing our hands and simply walking away is another, viable option. On the other, dirtier set of hands, I highly doubt that either of us is quite that strong right now. It might save a little pain in the present for what might be a castastrophe in the future, though.
  
  Here's the problem--and I'm writing this part as a reminder to to bring this up to Emily the next time I see her--that I have with taking the cowards way out and walking away: As I get older, I see more and more just how fragile life is. Whether that be witnessing my parents age and the health problems associated with that, or that I'm more aware of the world than when I was younger, I don't know. When you're young, you think you're bulletproof. Nothing can touch you, and you think you'll live forever. So, the small pain now vs. large pain later makes sense on that level.
  
  Not that 30 is relatively old, or that I'm all that wise, but a few years ago I wouldn't have understood just how flawed that concept it.
  
  Let's just say that we both chose "walking away" as the only course of action between us. We'll both hurt for a little bit, but life isn't that one dimensional, and you can't predict, ever, what will happen.
  
  What happens if, after walking away, the other person is in a tragic car accident and dies? Not fun to think about, but it happens more than we want to believe. Well, not only is there the intial hurt of having to walk away from someone, but it's also compounded by their death, and losing someone that was once special to you. On top of that the pain is magnified because you missed out all the time that should've been spent together, but you were too busy worrying about what might happen, rather than just enjoying what is happening.
  
  We've now got 3x times the hurt due our own, stupid safety mechanism!
  
  This whole entry turned into one clusterfuck of a Nike ad, but life is short, and any energy used on worrying about what "might" happen, well, that's just wasted energy.
  
  Why do we do this?

Fuck, nice work, Captain Tangent.

What do I think about this? I have no clue. Is their a very real threat that I might get hurt, worse even? Hurt, yes. Worse? Probably not. The thing that hurt me most two years ago was not having answers to why she was being shady and reclusive. I've got some answers, and my only goal right now is to find out as many as possible.

So that's where it stands, and all I can say right now is "We'll see."