I'm a masochist. I decided that I wanted to go down and visit Angie for the Labor Day weekend, seeing as how she was good enough to come up and visit me over July 4. In any case, the drive down to Houston was pleasant enough, managing it in just over six hours (lead foot + 350Z = lucky I didn't get a ticket), and having a more or less good time hanging out.

Except for...

First night. She asks "which side of the bed do you want?" and I laugh and smile and we share the bed, platonically, quite nicely.

Second night. We hop into the bed without comment. I wake up at 3:00 and she's gone. She explains it that night by saying that I was snoring and that she couldn't get me to stop. It's a fucking lie but I don't have the balls to call her on it.

Third night. She just takes the couch.

Monday. We're out to lunch at Chili's, ready to be seated, she makes a comment that makes me laugh and want to make a joke in response, and to accentuate the joke I put a hand on her back and give a bit of a rub and make the comment, and she just tenses up and snaps, "listen, I'm not your girlfriend, please don't touch me like that!"

What the fuck?

Never mind that I've given this girl more backrubs than I can count, and that she's always happy to receive them. The comment came so quickly, and off of a touch that was so innocuous, that it was obvious that she'd been looking for an excuse to go off with that comment.

I came very, very close to going off on her as the conversation progressed. She has this way of going "sor-ry" whenever she tries to give her reasons that she's not attracted to me - and it just makes me want to smack her, as if she's saying "sor-ry I'm such a shallow, superficial little cunt when it comes to you!" I'm not even pissed that she's not attracted to me (that's the claim, anyway) - I'm not stupid, and girls have completely valid reasons for not being attracted to me. But when every single guy she's dated since I've known her has been a complete fucking chud, the argument loses its credibility. The last guy she dated was thirty-eight ... THIRTY-EIGHT for chrissake, she's twenty-five ... almost completely bald, with no discernable intelligence, no discernable personality, and who wound up cheating on her after she made the terrible fucking decision to move out of Atlanta and try to maintain a long-distance relationship.

For all her posturing about wanting to get married and wanting to settle down, she has a remarkable track record of finding guys where that's not even a remote possibility. Honestly, I think the reason she keeps me at arm's length, more than anything, is that she knows that a relationship with me *would* last, and on a subconscious level that scares the everliving shit out of her. I still remember this guy she met down in Roswell, who, when she talked about him to me, she didn't even come off as being completely nuts about him - all she ever did was complain - and then when she went back up to Toledo, actually tried to maintain a long-distance relationship. Ridiculous.

In truth, she's operating under the fantasy that some nice, single, gorgeous, successful, flawless, young guy is going to waltz into her life and sweep her off her feet; what that steers her toward tend to be miserable, superficial losers who are skilled at presenting an image of themselves that obfuscates their self-destructive interiors. She maintains the illusion of having high standards, when really, what she has are specific standards. She's looking for the specific traits that ensure a relationship that will self-destruct in nine to twelve months.

In any case, I don't fit into that, and I'm not trying to. I've never pursued a relationship with her, only tried to explore the limits of what she's willing to play around with on a casual, "I only see this guy once every few months" basis. She's more or less rebuffed me on all points, but she keeps coming back for more - it's an interesting dynamic, one where I know I'm causing inner conflict for her and where I hope that inner conflict is healthy.