Saturday, November 9, 2002

I'm actually feeling a lot better, because I've been dividing my time between too-quickly tearing through the Sports Night box set and thinking about all the sex Lindsay and Jake are having. (I have no evidence that they are having sex, but they're dating seriously enough for Linz to risk telling me; so, instead of being anxious about it, I've just accepted that fact that in a probability so high it is essentially a certainty, they are.) And I've been trying to speak more rapidly, in quick Sorkin-esque sentences, dashing between topics at breakneck speed. My thinking goes like this: I have almost convinced myself that jealousy is a waste of time. There are some kinks in the system, but that's to be expected. So, anyway, Lindsay feels the same way about me as she did before Jake came along. She feels about the same way about me as she did once he'd come along, but before she felt their relationship serious enough to merit telling me. She loves me as one of her best friends in all the world, but she does not now and never has felt the same way about me as I feel about her. Just because she likes Jake in a way she's never liked me doesn't mean she has in any way stopped liking me. It's killing me that she feels about him as she's never felt about me (it makes me feel very small), but not as much as it should because I'm learning that jealousy is a waste of time.

So, I'm trying to build up an immunity to the thought of them having sex, and they only way to do that is to expose myself to it. It's not easy, but nothing worthwhile ever is. I should be fine seeing her over Thanksgiving, but it's going to ruin me seeing her dressed up for Emma and Bran's wedding after Christmas.

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