like a pendulum clock

It turns out one set of arms is not as good as another's but still good. I just don't want to keep training this one. I told him that, and he laughed. I wasn't trying to be funny. My ex-whatever-you-want-to-call-him, well, we just worked, from the first moment, in sync, like a pendulum clock, in stride from the first TICK.

However, Michael is just Michael. He is sweet. His arms encompass my body amply. His warm breath on my neck calms me when I fade in and out of a restless sleep. His cooing, and it is cooing, makes me laugh, even though I hide it. But, he treats me like I am helpless. I get that men always want to try and fix everything, but I want someone to spar with, someone who can hold his own regardless of topic or conversation. I want someone who actually wants me to talk about what is bothering me instead of saying "It's okay. You'll be fine." My aunts used to say that when I was young. You'll be fine. I am not fine. At least one person knows it, knows my terror and pain. I have that I guess. I hope he never tells.

So I sit working on the manuscript, muse-less, bringing forth memories I wish I could put back. But I can't. There was a light that shone recently in my dreams, a face that drew me out of the darkness, but I do not have this friend any longer. Why didn't we just end it one of those times we tried? Why didn't we salvage the friendship, the best part of what we had?

I cannot say. Michael says that he was a user. What does that even mean? I do not feel used. Maybe that's guy speak for something I have not yet discussed. I told him he is not allowed to say anything negative about my best friend, that he did nothing wrong to me aside from leaving, which I guess he felt he had to do. Michael doesn't like that. I don't seem to care. I told him I would give him his "fair shake" until May. I am not sure it will take that long. But still, his arms are warm and big and comfortable. Maybe I can just learn to be complacent. I don't know.