Headache.

Ugh! I should not go out late-night when I have to teach the next morning. What was I thinking?

But I had a great time.

Leonard picked me up at the Banana and had his friend with him... the three of us went to a dive bar with terrible live music. Downed a couple of drinks, talked, you know the drill.
Then we went on to a place we frequent. His friend ducked out here - he's smart. Great music, fun people, you know that drill too. Stayed until last call, stumbled home... yikes.

Last night was my favorite kind of night - we got back to my place, Leonard put in some music and we danced for a little while before going to sleep. Love that.

Isn't it funny how people say so much more when they've been drinking? He asked me questions, I answered. He didn't want to hear the answers so he told me to shut up - but if he asks, I will answer.

I'm not one of those women who's going to initiate a "state of our union" conversation every week. Hell, I don't initiate those conversations ever. But if someone else starts the conversation, you'd better believe I'll start talking and asking. But it's funny. He asks, but he shuts down when I answer or god forbid ask the same questions. I'm also not one of those women who's going to overanalyze shit but in some cases analysis is unavoidable.

He has told me he's not in love with me before. Usually it's in one of those sideways conversations where he's telling me about a conversation with a friend. Like this: friend says, "So you really seem to like Lauren." Leonard replies, "I like her but I'm not in love with her." And I'm okay with that. Love is something that just is, or isn't. You can't stop it and you can't push it.

Back to last night. Somewhere in our drunken mess conversation he asked me if I love him. I said yes, I love the person you are. He asked me what I meant by that. So I told him what I love about him - his personality, his values, his outlook on life, his determination, the way he expresses himself, the way he loves, the way he hates, etc. yada yada. I didn't gush, I just told him straight up. Either way, he didn't want to hear it (this is where he started to say "you're drunk, shut up, etc." Maybe he didn't want me to say something I'd regret later? I would never regret the truth.) Somewhere in there I mentioned that he doesn't love me and he asked me how I know that. Because you've told me, I said. And then he started telling me I don't know him.

"You don't know me." Knowing a person is always a process. I love the person I know right now. Not the person I think he is, not the person I think he might become. (I didn't say that part. I let him talk because when he's finished listening he's finished. I do know that about him!)

I don't know exactly where the conversation went from there - a lot of it was him thinking out loud about things that are piled up against us. Asking questions. Sometimes I answered, sometimes I didn't. Sometimes he responded to my answers, sometimes he didn't.

Somewhere in there we fell asleep.

My analysis for now: he is confused as hell.