One of my favorite things to do in Paris is to get on the metro, when I'm not in a particular rush to get where I'm going, and when it's not too crowded. To get on the metro with some good music in my outdated discman and just let the world pass me by as I zone out. This works especially well with some depressing melodic music.

Especially when you have, what I'm terming to be, an "emotional hangover."

Last night was, mildly put, disastrous. My courage "surprised" The One...and also convinced him that our differences were insurmountable. I guess I am a little too persuasive in writing about my fears. Two thumbs down to being brave. But, I still don't regret writing the post. If anything, it's a euology and testament to seven years of perhaps just loving an idea, if nothing more.

By the way, I'd never told a soul, including The One, the whole "l-word" thing before I wrote it in that entry. Brave? Stupid?...He pretended like he didn't notice it, until I forced him to recognize it. I wasn't looking for reciprocation. Far from it. I know my own feelings and I don't like pushing others into theirs. I was just looking for some recognition of my words.

I can't say it doesn't hurt. I'm very hesitant with my emotions. I was never sure I loved Jack. I mulled over it for months after he'd expressed his emotions to me. In fact, I never knew how you would even know. And then, one day, sitting at my place in Berkeley about a year and a half ago, thinking about everything...I just realized I did. It was the oddest thing. And I didn't dare tell a soul.

Cuz look what happens when you do.

We spoke last night. For hours. We spoke about politics. The taboo of our entire "friendship." I was stupified by some of his viewpoints. Realizing he is on an entirely different spectrum than I am. I was also stupified by my reaction. Because, frankly, I didn't care that much. I guess love'll do that to you. Plus, I was starting to feel a little cynical then...But what "stupified" me the most? His belief that his relationship with me would make him feel like a "traitor"...and that he could never get past such a thing.

I guess that's when I knew, seven years. Seven. Years. Gone. I guess The One isn't "The One"...or at least he can't be.

And really, I should be getting used to all this now. In all my history, whenever I have even been mildly "forward" or really interested in someone...it's always blown up in my face. Making me vow, time and time again, to not be the initiator and to not bring things up first.

First time I initiated was when I was about six years old. I told my best guy friend that I loved him and wanted to marry him. He soon after "got together" with my best female friend.

Second time: When I was 11 years old in summer camp, I sent a guy a Shabbat card telling him that I wanted to go out with him. After doing the rounds and giving everybody a "Shabbat hug"...I receive through the grapevine a polite "no thanks" response.

That did it. I wouldn't initiate or speak up first in a relationship for...well for about nine years--until yesterday--to be exact. And I realize, life just isn't fair. Why is it that other people can work through such differences of opinion? Is it really that big a deal? And it really disappoints me. If we can't even deal with this...if his viewpoints are supposedly "moderate" on his spectrum...then how can there ever be peace? That just depresses me...almost as much as my failed personal life. (In a purely solipsisitc world...)

Last night, finally crawling into bed around 6 a.m...no work done and not much to speak of...I felt sick. Well, I was already sick. But even more so. I closed my eyes, put my head against my pillow...and felt some trickling wetness. I don't like to cry. I've had enough of heartache. So I didn't. I just let the tears go away, and threw myself into the job at hand. Trying to get to sleep.

This afternoon I woke up with a dull headache, saw a text from German guy...and decided to meet him for a late lunch. To try this thing, because I fear I'm ignoring the good things I do have going and only dwelling on the negative. I might as well give him a shot, a real shot. But my heart just wasn't into it. I got to our meeting spot early, sat down on the steps...and just stared into traffic. When he finally ran over to find me, I glanced up and managed a half-smile. As we walked over to the restaurant he could sense something was wrong.

"Sorry, I'm just not feeling so well, I had a long night--ended up talking politics with a friend..." I said, offering up portions of the truth.

Throughout the meal I just couldn't stay in the moment. Finally, German guy put down his spoon and looked at me:

"You don't look happy," he said.

"No...no...I'm not really," I replied, distantly. "But, it's not you!" I said with a bit of a cheesy smile.

The meal went on that way, with some mild conversation, inevitable talks about the Torah vs. the Bible vs. the Koran...and German guy very concerned "that I wasn't really there..." He kept trying to cheer me up. And I kept trying to cheer up. But I just felt/feel kind of cut off from the world...and from everything.

Let the numbing begin.