Crushed ... maybe.

Last night, after advisory phone calls to Double M ("it sounds like you're in love") and Mr. Rocks ("I don't see that there's any problem here -- he likes you"), I went to sleep feeling ... I don't even know. Unlike any feeling I've had as an adult.

So this morning, Joiner, in HER advisory capacity, wisely suggested I send an email if it would make me feel better, but otherwise put it away until January.

I wrote. A short little thing, saying I had a nice time, and that if he wanted to take a break from his multiple exams, I was around until Xmas, and if not, I'd see him next month. (Somehow, I managed to make a serious grammatical error in even this brief missive - chalk it up to nerves.)

2 hours later, he writes back that he too is glad we talked, he's looking forward to continuing the conversation, but that the week looks bad, family troubles are brewing, and we should definitely get together in January.

So. By the hug and the inquiries about January plans yesterday, I could take this response to mean that he really is busy and preoccupied with academic and personal issues, and means what he wrote about getting together next month because he is interested in me in some way.

Or. I could have read the whole thing wrong -- the awkward scheduling of lunch, stemming out of a happenstance chat that he never intended to be read as anything else but friendly; the inquiry about next month's plans, a product of polite interest and conversational efforts; the hug, an indication of ... friendliness? But why? And -- isn't that weird? Wouldn't that make you think someone is interested in maybe more than just friendship? And yet, when I signaled by my email, hey, let's ramp it up a little, I'm interested in you -- nuthin'.

Okay, not nothing, but definitely not what I hoped.

And I'm still only halfway through evidence! Bad grade, here comes hk.

After another hour on the phone with Mr. Rocks today ("Give me his number -- I'll call him." "What would you say to him?" "To say, 'Are you fucking with my friend? What the fuck is wrong with you? If you don't like her, stop fucking around! If you do like her, stop pussyfooting around!'" I love Mr. Rocks.), I wrote back to Not-Gay Boyfriend that I was sorry to hear of the family troubles, that the holidays are hard, and that I hoped things would get better. And that I looked forward to seeing him after the break.

It's what a normal person would write back, after all.