If a cow ever got the chance...

Does anyone else have to fend off constant impulses to make out with their friends? All their friends? Even the ones who are gay, or otherwise involved, or Not Fucking Interested?

Seriously, I've had this going on my entire life, and it is becoming a little tiresome. It's ruined more relationships than I care to think about. When I like someone (even platonically, mind you), they become really attractive. Gorgeous, even. And then what feels the most natural is to kiss them--I know that sounds stupid. And I don't necessarily want to have sex with that person, just to be a little closer to them for a little while. With women I can almost always master the impulse (lest things get really weird). With men, things can get sketchy very fast. They understandably misinterpret my actions and flee screaming, or else we have a weird dating relationship for three weeks and then become good friends, a la my buddy D.N. Resuscitate.

Do other people have these impulses (which they can control with the maturity and self-discipline I appear to lack), or is everything happy and platonic unless they're with that Special Person? Am I just a bundle of issues who needs to sexualize all her relationships, or does it make me a like generous and loving person? I have lots of trouble showing affection verbally, so maybe this is a way to compensate? (C. has this same exact problem, by the way.)

The problem is that Mr. Ex, The Poet, Outgrabe for those of you with long diaryland memories, is visiting this weekend. We haven't seen each other in three years--we're not close enough anymore for it to generally be worth the Greyhound ride, partially because last time he came to visit I made a perfect asshole of myself by getting him drunk at two in the afternoon and then attempting to molest him. As you might expect, it didn't go so well. We're friends now--genuinely--but our friendship took a big hit after that incident. One more visit like that and we wouldn't speak again, I think. He would have every reason to misunderstand...

And I would miss him. He's a brilliant supergenius/unrepentant jerk, an office e-mail companion who sends me the Simpsons calendar trivia question every morning. I would rather stab myself with a rusty butter knife than ever date him again, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't happily make out with him, and not mean anything romantic by it.

So, basically, I need to control myself this weekend (am doing much better--really--but there's still a long way to go).

Wish I'd grow up already. It's like all ninth grade all the time in here.

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