Playing with Fire

Eventually you're gonna get burned

I still feel guilty about dating more than one guy. But I like both Lindbergh and Jonathan, I don't know what to do about it. 
It makes me melt when Jonathan tells me how much he misses me and can't wait to see me. But I'm actually able to see Lindbergh. 

He and I had a really good date night yesterday. Lindbergh's apartment is really close to my office, so usually I just go there from work. We decided to go out to eat and, since I was a little dressed up, he stepped his game up. We went to a nice restaurant that was absolutely delicious. The restaurant is actually for a culinary school, so everything is pretty gourmet for relatively cheap. I had duck breast with wild mushroom risotto, braised greens, and some kind of fig/raisin chutney. A-maze-ing. Some yummy wine was involved, and incredible dessert. We laughed so much, it was just really a good time. 

We were having a ton of fun, so we continued at the wine bar. One of the hostesses (hosti?) stopped on her way out and said that she had to tell me that I'm completely adorable and how lucky Lindbergh was to be out with me. It was very, very sweet. Then a waiter came over and told us how much fun it looked like we were having. He said we seemed like cool people and we looked good together. Then he said he wanted to show us something, did the basic magic trick, and ended up with a quarter in his hand. Silly, but I was completely enthralled and flattered. And possibly a little tipsy. But, that's kinda standard. Eh, it happens. Anyway, the waiter said it was our lucky quarter and that we had to keep it forever and ever (amen) and enjoy the night. And we did. After the wine bar we went back to his apartment and watched a movie and cuddled. 

Last night he was out with friends and I found myself missing him a bit. 

Now for the update on Soldier. I wish he wouldn't have messaged me, I was doing okay. He ruined that. Thinking more and more about his feeling "shameful" for messaging me, I eventually said as much. He replied that he was ashamed of his drunkenness and not being able to keep his shit together, then said that he does care about me. He went on to say that he hadn't wanted to treat me badly. That I wanted more and felt more than he did. But here's my favorite part: "I wished I felt differently because you are pretty great." 
Ouch. I'm sure that was well intentioned, (umm, computer says that's not a word, but I really think it is. If it isn't, it should be. I so decree.) but it kind of feels like lemon juice in a papercut. (UGH apparently paper cut is two words. I think it should be one. Why is my computer so uppity today?!) The way I see it is more like "yeah, sure, you're great. Just not that great. I couldn't quite force myself to want your lackluster greatness." So...lame. Now I get to try and get back to okay. 

I've been thinking more and more lately about getting out of town again. Not so much to run away from anything, but to have my own life and my own adventure. Maybe I will stay in Paris. 
No, no I won't. But that'd be pretty sweet, huh?