The hardest part about dating for the past five years is how much I cry afterwards. What a baby I am, but even if I feel a zing or whatnot, I always am just sad-lonely after dates because.

I wrote at first that it's because I want the tingle and eye-to-eye understanding, because I haven't felt it for over five years, but I dreamt last night about this idea, and realized in the dream that I had lied... Because I have felt that tingle or connection... not frequently but certainly with b and s and k and well, others. It's not about that. It's about a) trusting that feeling again, which I don't, and b) the fact that the last person who was a romantic interest not a friend or family who said "I love you" to me was ec, and she said it -- much like Rosario said it, although she at least meant it -- as a manipulation. Even with my friends I'm so conscious and aware when I say that phrase... I note that many of my friends are as well. I stumble over it. They say it hurriedly but each word pronounced and felt. And I don't say it if I don't mean it.

Anyhow, I think I must cry after dates, even good or okay dates in part because I'm a girrrrrl, but I haven't felt mutual love+zing in ever so long, and the last times I thought I had at least part of it, I got dumped, called in, received text messages, told about "selfish phases," emailed that let me know past flirtation is irreconcilable with friendship, etc. I wonder if those folks out there who have a relationship with love know how much it's worth. But sometimes love seems exotic.

These are some of the brainruts. They are especially prominent after dates and when I'm driving.

Today, as if to make me aware, I went to the gym and really got a good workout today, but discovered upon disrobing for the shower that I had started my period and bled through my shorts and nobody said a word. Maybe the others in the gym didn't notice, but maybe they did and said nothing. Either way, I wasn't actually embarrassed.

Not embarrassed, I said to myself.

Some part of me just noted it, laughed silently, and went about its business.

What I tell myself about the brainruts and why they make me cry: the mind rebels against the incorrect, hoping that one day it will be corrected... maybe this is the only way I might know I still don't have any story right.

Anyhow, I went on two nice walks last weekend, and a dinner visit. Rocks upended, water plants growing, trying to pause to listen, dogs playing in the mud, stories about wrong decisions, catching up, tasty spices and a cuddle, meeting up accidentally with co-workers, regrouping, telling stories about people you went to school with, biting your tongue when you don't care... art projects that are cool but outside your interest, wondering when you'll get started on an art project, hoping that was a muscle making its way out, an early spring but winter not over.

Tomorrow: more school.