View Workout (Joe Uhan)
OFF...again
May 15, 2014 (Morning)
Exercise Type: Other
Comments:
Another long day. I could've run, but damn...my FEET are still super-sore! I actually had to fucking break down and buy more PI shoes: but the 80% off is long-gone, so I paid $65 a pair for two "M2 trails" - they had no N2s left in 11.5! M2 is OK, and I'm going to need them for Kamp.
CRAZY-day at work. I was jammed all day until 12:45. This also happens to be when Tanya eats lunch each day. So I chided her into eating lunch "in her basement hideout".
There were "loose" plans for us to "get coffee" after work, but again...this was for us to actually converse and for me to get an idea of what's so "complicated" about her relationship. It's clear she is equally interested in something relatively "casual", but...I just won't go there if she's committed, however "unhappy".
So around 1, we're both free, and she texts saying she's downstairs. It's weird - and overtly unprofessional - that we're texting AT work to each other, but it has quickly (in just over a week) become the norm.
So I head down there. She, for the 3rd consecutive day, is wearing either a dress or skirt. Today, it'a fairly low-cut black dress (with and without a long-sleeve over the top) that hangs mid-thigh. Pretty stunning.
I'm feeling a little tired and weird, but my compulsion to just *be around her* is still strong. So there we are: first in the kitchen (which has no chair), then to the meeting room. We chat for a bit, with the rumble of the busy clinic above us. The main room was dimly lit, but the other rooms were near total-darkness. We begin to look around the different rooms: some with random storage, others half-finished.
The tension is crazy-strong. We mill around, alternatively talking and just standing in silence. She waits for me to make a move. I do not. I won't; I can't. Not yet. Both my professionalism and my (rather flimsy) boundaries prevent that.
But damn, if I did, two things would be certain: 1. she would be all aboard, and 2. it wouldn't stop.
But we didn't. And as it was time to return upstairs, we walked together in the dark hallway leading to the staircase. Then, I put my hand on her back, and slid it slowly up to her neck. She stopped cold. I kept it there, just for a few seconds.
She turned to me. Then I continued walking.
UGH. Wow.
What made walking away easy - besides having a semblance of professionalism and morals, I suppose - was the knowledge that we were going to hang out that night. She'd told me that her daughter was likely going skating with friends, but after work, when I got home, she texted me saying that skating was out (as her daughter hadn't done her homework as intended, and she had to make her do it). Good call, for sure.
We wound up having a rather long text fest where, out of impatience, I asked about the true status of her relationship: it is, indeed, NOT open.
UGH. SERZ??
She stated they're "in the process of figuring things out, moving forward or not". They see each other infrequently (and I'm not sure either has any intention of moving). In short: it's Chels and Jeff all over again.
In an utter blue-ballz buzz-kill, I told her that I refuse to cross that boundary if she's committed to another man. Period. And, unfortunately, that I would have to stop flirting with her, too.
UGHZ. Sucks.
But before we were done, I explained to her that whatever chemistry is between us, it's CRAZY-STRONG and - in my opinion, no matter how weird and not ideal - makes me want to explore it. She of course agreed, but - of course - her reasons for clinging to that ("lacking passion") relationship are there.
Sooo...major blue balls, and again, intimacy denied. Sucks. But again, I guess this is God/Fate's way of saying "not right"? I dunno.
NO run. Just didn't feel like doing anything. In fact, I didn't even touch my column for editing. I quickly hammered a couple beers, ate, then went to bed. UGH.