"the part where the end starts"
With no plans for Valentine’s, I treated myself to a day of little luxuries…a day to look cute, relax, decompress and regain some balance. I slid on my awesome red heels…shopped for some scrapbooking supplies at the crafts store…got a manicure…bought a couple of chick-lit novels…saw a thoughtful, intense movie…enjoyed a cup of chai, a chocolate croissant and some journaling at the coffee shop… curled up in an armchair to read for a few hours. It was amazing.
Then came the surprise. A girlfriend (who just happens to be good friends with Cute Guy, too) called to let me know she’d been driving by and seen “some stuff” on my truck…oh, and did I want her to stop so I could come outside to see what might be on my truck? Because that didn’t sound suspicious and scheming at all. So I walked out to my truck and found these –
taped all over the windshield and windows of my truck, with some beautifully sweet notes written on the backs…notes filled with genuine emotion, care and heart…notes that he obviously put time and thought into writing. Reading these notes, I felt adored and treasured and valued in a way that I haven’t in a really long time.
At the same time, though, I also felt overwhelmed…and sad. Because these notes make it painfully clear that the way Cute Guy likes me? Is on a completely different level from the way that I like him. They express an intensity of emotion that I don’t feel… that I don’t know if I’m capable of feeling - for him. So I find myself faced with the dilemma of deciding how to tell this really wonderful guy that, as much I like him, I don't know if my feelings are strong enough for me to continue seeing him...not after reading how he feels about me.
Where I am: home
What I'm reading: Dewey by Vicki Myron
(lyrics from "I Hate This Part")