Sunday night I spent two hours on the phone with a guy. A guy I had decided that I was just going to be friends with. We were just friends.
You know, the friends that never talk to each other except to send a random text every couple of weeks?
Except this time he asked me to compose a list of all the ways he failed and hurt me, so that he could work on them.
It now occurs to me that this could have been a ploy to merely get me to talk to him again.
At the time I was suspicious, but the combined idea of hearing his voice again and potentially helping him be a better person, while venting some past hurts won out against my distrust.
So we talked.
And I still don’t know if he’s trying to be a better person, or trying to make me think he’s trying to be a better person just so I’ll talk to him again.
I don’t know why I’m so suspicious.
But I do enjoy talking to someone.
I have problems. I don’t know if they’re real or if I’m making them up but, either way, I’m confused.