Wish I had the impact of the envious

Dinner with J tonight and she’s letting me play right into her hand. Playing hard to get. Fucking god dammit, so am I. Fuck. How is this ever going to work? This is the exact thing keeping me at work and the exact, balls-on bull's eye reason to leave. To leave in an effort to stay away, and, in a bizarre twist, an effort to remain and maintain something yet to materialize. She makes all the sense in the world. Except when she dissects the situation with perfect logic by bringing up the feelings of the envious. I actually had to disguise an exclamation I thought I was saying to myself while we were arguing over the check. Fuck T., I said, in a weirdly rationalized frustration at the predicament that finally manifested as our date was winding down into a stunningly landed gymnastic anticlimax. There’s something glorious about J. Something that if I misplay, will forever be misplaced. Let the envious have their say, I say in resignation. It this the world we make or the world that we let be? I have to pee. She makes me feel like I just donated a pint or two of blood.