*edited to add:  2.5 hours of sleep later, I'm still ashamed of how horribly immature I am.
:(

It's 3:30 am and I cannot sleep.

A backwards story, in that I copy here what I wrote in my journal to FH then give you backstory possibly not in strict time sequence.

Because of course I must ruin everything.  Why can't I just fucking be happy, for once in my goddamn life?

 And you are closed in your room, and I in mine.  I listen to the sound of your horrible music and the occasional coughs and nose-blowing of someone who is allergic to cats and yet encouraged me when I said I wanted one.

And every time the music stops my heart skips a beat.  Because  maybe you will open my door, slide into my bed, hold me and make everything all right again.  But the next song always starts and you do not come to me.

I opened up to you and you rejected me.  FH is angry.  Salix is stupid.  Why must I always, ALWAYS ruin things?

And now the backstory.  In which I am horribly irrational and insecure.  Feel free to judge me; we all know that I am terrible at any sort of relationship stuff anyway.  This is just further example of that.

So FH has an ex-girlfriend who we'll call C.  They dated a year then broke up when he moved here and she went home to South America before moving (apparently today?) to Europe for her grad schooling.  They didn't want to deal with the hassles of long-distance.  But they are still very close.  Pet names and all.

Tonight, emboldened by the 1.5 beers I had at the potluck (Salix is a lightweight and also these beers were higher alcohol content than normal beer), I nerved up and spilled my guts.  While riding a bike.

"FH?  I am a little fuzzy right now and maybe I will not be fuzzy by the time we get home, so while I am still fuzzy and brave I am going to tell you what has been bothering me for a little bit now.  I am feeling...insecure, I guess, over your C.  I feel I am a very poor replacement.  And that if she were here you would want her, choose her...you would be dating her instead of just something-ing me."

And then I pulled my usual trick employed when sudden overwhelming anxiety hits:  I ran.  Or, in this case, pedaled furiously.  My bike is much lighter and faster than his.  He had no chance.  I called over my shoulder the last part of my confession.  "And that feeling upsets me.  And makes me feel bad.  And I don't like it."  And then sped off.

He caught me up at the stoplight at the end of the trail.  Neither of us said anything.  Got home and put the bikes away and he went to his room.  And I finished doing the laundry and went to mine.  Not a word from either of us.

On the one hand: I realize I'm being stupid and probably irrational with these insecure feelings.  On the other hand: I can't help feeling how I feel and at least I managed to communicate that feeling to him (which, let's face it, is a rare occurrence for me).  And it was really bothering me lately.  On the mutant third hand: I think probably some of this is me displacing anxiety over other things.  Such as work.  And food.  Now that I'm eating semi-regularly (re-feeding, ugh, but that's a whole 'nother post) I have more energy to be angsty and emo and anxious about other things besides food.  And so maybe I'm stirring up trouble completely unnecessarily.

And maybe a tiny bit of this is that it's now been three months and I'm STILL freaking the fuck out about being in a "relationship".  And worrying that I've got in too deep and that I'm more serious about him than he is about me and completely panicking over the "caring for him" feelings.

Really, why can't I just be happy?  Where did my non-anxious, go-with-the-flow, zen-ness from June go?  Would like that back, plzkthx.

Options here to explain the not-talking:  1) FH is angry at me.  Unsure why he would be, except perhaps that I am being ridiculous and frustrating.  I thought he seemed a bit angry/irritated, but I am pretty horrible at reading people.  2) I have inadvertently hit closer to the truth of his feelings than I knew and now he is having to consider them and think about what exactly he feels for me.  3) (and rational brain says probably the most likely) he's waiting for me to make the first move.  That's usually FH's modus operandi--he never pushes, never even asks, just waits until I want to talk about something.  This is not altogether helpful, since I have difficulty talking about anything serious without at least a little prodding/encouragement.  I also have a very unfortunate tendency to misinterpret his non-active-encouragement (passive encouragement such as listening he does very well) as non-interest.

Anyway.  Now it's 4 am and I will try for the millionth time to go to sleep.

Go ahead, tell me I am stupid.

This has been a not-so-great birthday.