I've been working on one particular entry for a few weeks. Okay, so I wrote it one night, edited it another, and want to work on it some more, but have left it for a week and a half. Ooops.

It's an entry that has little to do with boys, but there's something about boys that I want to write about today.

He called, see. Last night. At 4 a.m. I don't remember much, to be honest. I was in a daze and groggy because I was asleep. I don't even remember answering my phone; all I remember is being in bed, having the phone in my hand, and hearing him say, "Oh, hello! Shit, sorry, I forgot about the time difference."

He wanted to know what I wanted him to send me from his place - did I only want the two books and the migraine medication? Did I want the other books I'd left behind?

And then he told me a bit about what he'd been doing and asked about me.

I haven't really talked to him in weeks because I don't answer his emails and I leave MSN shortly after he comes on if I see his name pop up. (Usually.)

I don't believe he forgot about the time difference. How do you forgot after 8 years? Secondly, the last email I DID send him and the last MSN 'conversation' we had included this discussion and I told him what I wanted. Specifically. If he really needed to know, he could've just emailed or texted or something.

I woke up wondering if I had imagined it, but I had an email from him, confirming it had actually happened.

Not a big deal, really. Right?

I don't cry when I'm not talking to him.

But this has made me completely weepy again. "Must listen to Coldplay" kind of weepy.

I don't understand. I was completely fine. He crept his way into my subconscious occasionally, he slipped into my thoughts sporadically, but I haven't spent a whole day thinking about him since I was in England.

The last time I saw him confirmed what an ass he is and how I don't want anything to do with him. Yeah, he's nice enough to give rides, but in terms of emotions and makign someone feel good and special and being there for them when they need you... The guy is a complete jack ass. So why? Why the fuck do I do this?

I'm partly sad 'cause of him. But, mostly, I'm sad because of how I felt and how I still occasionally feel.

Why am I so down on myself that I thought he was acceptable? How can I, how could I, have possibly put up with so much shit? How is it possible for someone to have such a low opinion of herself, her looks, her body, to stay in touch with someone who repeatedly lies to her and proves again and again that she means next to nothing to him?

Why is that desire for this elusive 'love' (which I sometimes think is an imagined concept, but anyway) so overpowering that I'd be willing to degrade myself like that?

It worries me. It worries because if I've done it once, I can do it again. I let some fucking tosser with a small dick make me hate. It's exhausting and I fucking let him do it. And for what? Because he might 'love' me? how stupid is that?

It made sense at the time, though. And looking back, it still does.

I love my life, but I am so lonely sometimes. That's what worries me. It's not so much that it happened; but that it can happen again.

It makes me cry because this isn't just me we're talking about. This is the kinding of thinking that leads women into seriously abusive relationships, into physical violence, even. It makes me cry because I can understand it. It makes me cry because I know a lot of women who can understand it.

At what point, at what stage, is loving yourself more important than being loved by someone else?

Or is it just luck to find a great guy who doesn't hurt you or abuse you?

What is it?

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