On one hand.

Maybe I’m in a state of denial, but somehow I’m not entirely sure where I stand with some people. It’s that strange little argument that my head and heart have every other moment, and it paralyses me sometimes. Stops me from moving, or doing anything for that matter.

Shawn suggested that I might not have been trying hard enough with Di. My response is, try hanging on to something for almost three years when the girl you’re apparently dating dates one of your best mates and never tells you about it. Then imagine being told by a whole bunch of people that that same girl has been doing ‘questionable’ things with other blokes, even when you’re around. Then imagine being systematically cut out of her life over the past year.

On the other hand, I’ve got ‘maybe’ hanging around. I wish I could just say that I’m awfully attracted to someone, and not be told to go for it. The potential pain at the looming separation is bad enough. I don’t wish to add to it. I just wish she wouldn’t smile at me so much with that little whimsical smile. It’s disarming and adorable.

Thing is, I’m weak sometimes, and if the trade is momentary bliss for a longer period of unhappiness, then I’d rather take the self-defensive route out, and opt out of bliss. Sometimes it is easier to take the dull ache than to take the potential pain.

What’s this happiness that people keep wishing on me? I suppose having feelings reciprocated is a happiness, but then I risk losing more than gaining. Happiness is having a nice dinner with friends, or walking barefoot on the sand, or sitting on a swing on a spring night, or sharing a bottle of wine on a lazy afternoon.

Maybe it’s not that I’m being unhappy, but rather that I am in a sense denying my own greater happiness. Maybe. Henry Wadsworth Longfellow once wrote, “All are architects of fate”.

Missy Higgins’ ‘Where I stood’ just started on my iTunes. Why on earth does iTunes do this to me every time I think of her?