Last night was my friend Erik's birthday and a bunch of us were with him to celebrate. There was a particular person there whose name is Ian. I have had an enormous crush on this guy (if you saw his eyes, you would too...even the heteros but I digress) since July, so we are talking five months. I finally manned up and told him how I felt about him. Shot. Down. He was nice enough to hand me a parachute, so at least there's that (he said he wasn't looking for anything serious). I have mixed feelings. On the one hand, I feel a huge weight lifted off of my shoulders since I'm not holding anything in anymore. On the other hand, I'm sad about the rejection part. I am really glad that I won't have to deal with regret from saying nothing, and that's my solace in this situation. I have spent the last hour wallowing in misery (also known as my version of therapy), but I feel a lot better now. Hopefully there are more rainbow fish in the sea.
P.S. I saw Erik this morning and apparently he had done something after he left the bar that resulted in a hospital visit (he had a wrist band on) and stitches on his chin. He doesn't know what happened. That's what I call a good birthday.
"Time For Moving On" by Patrick Park is my song of the moment.