"He and I aren't going to be together."

The more I say that to myself, the more real it becomes. The more I can feel myself let go. The more I can ready myself to move on. The less remorse I feel about what we had and what we lost.
It's already gotten to the point where it should be "He and I aren't together." But really... we never will be again. All I can do is look back on when we were, smile about somethings, cringe about others, and wonder what the next time will be like.

Things didn't end exactly well. But I still hope he's doing well. I know I am (besides for he and I not being together... which probably will work out better in the long run anyways).

My new home (Connecticut) is so far fantastic. I can see myself making friends here. Of course it'll take a while... but I still have the ones in California to talk to once in a while.

But he and I aren't going to be together.

You know what that means? That means I can go to Romania in the summer, man. That means I have zero obligations outside of paying my rent; I don't even have other bills. My rent is all-inclusive (utilities, water, internet...), I've paid for my car and insurance, I don't have any loans out... I'm really quite free. I can choose my own obligations. Now is the most care-free and selfish time in my life. I don't need to worry about what anyone else wants from me.
You know... I don't need to worry about how he feels with me across the country. I don't need to worry about how he feels if I go to another country for 3+ months. I don't need to stay put... I don't need to fret about our future... I don't need to think about how he wants kids and a house and a big yard and I... I don't.
I can refocus on what I want. And I want a guy who doesn't want kids or a house or a big yard. I want a guy with a backbone. I want a guy who can support me too... not just the other way around.
I want a guy who has the same wants as I do.

So he and I aren't going to be together.

Things didn't work out.
Things won't work out.
I don't need to worry about how he is in Texas or anything like that.
I don't need to fret about talking to a new guy because he wouldn't like it if he knew.
I don't need to fret that he's talking to some new girl and pulling stupid pranks like letting her sleep on his shoulder if they so happen to be sitting next to each other on a plane, even though he has me waiting for him at home... even though he'll tell me about it later. That prick.

I don't need to feel guilty because if I get my way in life, he's going to miss out on what he wants... and if I consign myself to his wants... I'll live dissatisfied.
I don't need to worry about dealing with his crazy mother. Or my neurotic one, for that matter.
I don't need to worry about how he's going to turn out in life.
I don't need to worry about him.

Because he and I aren't going to be together.

And I don't even know if I'll see or hear from him again.
But I do feel confident in knowing... that no matter what time may bring... he and I aren't going to be together. And I should just keep saying that under I really, truly appreciate the freedom that implies.

About a month ago, I wrote an entry outlining the first time I got asked out. Well... I lied. Unintentionally. A friend of mine reminded me about the actual first time... and remembering it made me realize why I mentally blocked it in the first place.

It was the summer of my freshman year in high school. Some band buddies and I went to the beach for a bonfire. My two or three closest friends were there, my band section, and a few upperclassmen... including my brother and my best friend's crush.

My friend's crush was the band pimp and I disliked him. Intensely. I disliked the way he strung my friend along. I disliked how he thought every girl should fall at his feet. I disliked his stupid comments, his general stupid attitude, his man-whoriness, his muscle tees, the fact that he was a drummer... just about everything about him bothered me.
So, when I saw him in his general man-whore position, with his arms all over my best friend even though he refused to take her as a girlfriend, I sneered.
A moment later, I heard someone talking. My eyes flitted up from my mp3 player.

"You know Danielle," he began, "Considering who your brother is... I wouldn't expect you to look the way you do..." (That makes absolutely no sense since I've been told that if I just shaved my head I'd look exactly like my brother.) "I mean... it's not like you're ugly."

"Ummmm... thanks I guess." At that point, I plugged in my headphones and tuned him out. But I guess the conversation didn't stop.

"I mean... you're actually not bad looking. I'd even go out with you... if you'd have me."

In retrospect, I must've heard him cuz I remember what he said... but I was too busy finding a good song on my mp3 player.

"AWWWW! That's mean!" I heard and looked up. He was flailing his arms around so I popped one ear bud out.

"What happened?" I looked up and popped an earbud out.

"He said he'd go out with you," reported my best friend. I looked at them with a blank stare.

"Oh..." I popped my earbud back in and tried to listen to some Weezer song or something.

"WHAT--?!" He started flailing around again, but this time I continued to ignore him. "Why you hatin?!"

"She thinks you're a jerk," reported my friend, somewhat triumphantly.

"YOU DO?! WHY?!"

I looked up. "He wants to know why you think he's a jerk."

I kind of stammered as I looked for words that could explain what should've been obvious.

"Just look that this!" I said, gesturing at the way he hung on a girl while asking another girl out. More specifically, he was asking out the best friend of a girl who had a crush on him not only while "flirting" with them both, but while hanging all over her. After telling the girl he's asking out that she's... not as ugly as he expected her to be.

He, being the douchebag that he is, didn't understand.
"I think someone needs to explain it to him, Danielle," said my friend.

I did my best through the awkwardness of it all to explain, but in the end resorted to popping in my headphones and letting him figure it out on his own.
...Except later on, he IMed me to ask again. I was a lot more articulate online... but he ended up telling me that he was doing that kind of stuff cuz my friend was getting too attached to him and he wasn't going to get with her so she should get used to the idea. (He should've started with... you know... not touching her).


...So the first time I got asked out, it was by a total jerk whom I intensely disliked as a ploy to get my best friend who DID like him off his back.
...Great memory.

What about you guys? Anything like that ever happen to you? Or have you ever tried anything like that to get rid of a persistant crushee? What would you have done in my position?