Transplanted Life
Monday, September 15, 2003
When I got back from lunch, there was an instant message on my computer from Kurt, asking if I'd like to go to a movie tonight. Wei & Jim are coming, the message says. It'll be fun.

I just stared at it for a long time. I feel stupid, in a way, being angry at him. All the stuff I wrote last night is still true, and let's not forget my motivations here. I'm going out with him because it seemed like something I had to do to get my own body back. I do enjoy it most of the time, but I'm not at the point where I'd choose him over my old life.

Yet. Maybe. If I'm honest, I'm keeping my options open, just like he is. Well, not just like, but it's not like this relationship's a total sham. I like him more than I did when we were guys, and in a different way. I won't say I love him, but there is something there.

All guys have fantasies of multiple girls, either at once or seperately. One of my college roommates said it was a biological imperative, to disperse ones genes as far as possible and to keep propogating the species even while one mate is pregnant. But that's our animal nature; in a civilized society, how do you say "oh, it's Michelle time now; even though I was just with Denise yesterday, this one's my girlfriend at the moment"? If we go out, and he kisses me tonight, is he just thinking of me? I can't imagine being in that situation.

(And here's something - where's Denise staying over the weekends? In her sister's dorm room? I doubt it. In a hotel? Maybe, but that can add up. At Kurt's place? In his bed? Perhaps with him not on the couch? How do you feel about that, Marti?)

What I should do - should - is take the high road. Don't let him know I know, say "let's just be friends", and hopefully manage to make that work. If Michelle holds it against me whenever she gets around to setting things straight, tell her I'd rather Kurt was in a relationship with a future and if she wants to punish me for not living up to my words, fine, my conscience is clean.

I don't want to, though. I want to know why I wasn't enough, or, if I'm "the other woman", where he got off leading me on like that. It's a lousy thing to do.

Whatever I do, I think I'll do after the movie. And make sure he buys my ticket and large popcorn and soda. Sure, it's petty, but it's not like I can beat him up.

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Note: This blog is a work of fantasy; all characters are either ficticious or used ficticiously. The author may be contacted at