I hate waking up on Sunday morning's alone. It makes me sad and angry but mostly disappointed in myself that I WANT someone to wake up with. Someone to laze around with. Someone to watch t.v. with. Someone to tickle. Someone to tickle me. Someone to talk to. Someone to make love to. Someone to make breakfast for me. Someone to make breakfast for.

I want to lay in bed with my head on his chest. Leg draped over his. Arm resting on his stomach while I trace circles on his skin. And I want to share this with someone I want to share this with and I want to matter to him as much as he matters to me.

I don't want to look for him. I want to stumble upon him. Like when you discover a $10 bill in an old coat or a roll of old film. I don't want to settle and I don't want to compromise. And I want all if this to happen last fucking week.

After a little more than a year the bed has been christened. and christened. and christened. And I realized that if I'm being honest with myself that I like the idea of this guy more than I actually like him. and I am pretty sure that if the sex wasnt so phenomenal I probably wouldnt necessarily care for the idea of him either.

and just because I know what I want and when to call a spade a spade it doesnt mean I am going to stop analyzing the hell out of a situation because that is my nature. That being said, I STILL dont quite understand the mixed signals but maybe since I am still in my rookie season they are not something for me to understand. When discussing this subject with my my friend she responded with that now very cliche' phrase, he's just not that into you. Perhaps (probably) she is correct. Do guys still feel the need to wine and dine when the probability of 69 is pretty much a given? The hello/goodbye kiss at the door. The stopping me on my way to the restroom for the same reason. The arms around the waist, holding my hands at the show. THAT is what I dont understand. And until I figure it out those thoughts will forever plague my mind with what if's and why's.