Overanalyzing Again

I don't know why I'm still nitpicking on my relationship with John (G), but I am. I guess it comes out of the frustration of having to start dating all over again, and not feeling that spark or compatibility with anyone new. And when we start new, after something that we thought was good, we end up always comparing it to that one before. I'm looking for that best friend again, someone that makes me laugh, someone that I'm dying to call when something good or bad happens, someone I can be happy laying around with saying or doing absolutely nothing. And it's all his fault.

Last night, I got annoyed. I'm angry all over again. First of all, from the very beginning, I told him that since neither one of us were relocateable, that we would never be more than friends. He was warned not to romance me or pursue me because it would probably work; and he swore he wasn't, but of course, he was. You don't talk on the phone for hours at a time, several times a day, emailing and IMing in between those calls, with just a friend. He knew he was reeling me in.

And I'm also angry that he chickened out when we both realized it was so much more. I finally allowed myself to become attached and rely on him and love him, and he admitted those feelings for me, and he gave me my movie moment, and then he bailed. We finally got to the visit where our real feelings were out in the open and we were able to express and enjoy them while physically together and he got scared and pushed me away. He used the excuse that we got carried away, as a reaction to my health crisis. But I knew...I knew he couldn't deal with these feelings and not being able to be with me because of the distance. He dragged me into this and then wussied out.

Lastly, I'm pissed at him to figure out that I've been no different than every other sucker that falls for him. Every last one of us believes that we're special, believes that they have a best friend in him, believes that we would make such a great family together. It's a shtick. Yes, I was the only one to get an "I love you" out of him, as more than a friendly "luv ya," but it was fleeting. It pains me to know that he may just lump me in with the rest of the spreadsheet, that I was just one more foolish woman that got carried away, thinking we were something more than the rest.

Mostly, I'm pissed at myself for allowing this to happen and for those weak moments when I still regret not being able to be with him and dream of being at peace with our picket fence in Stepford and our happy ending.