I had my hair done. And I feel pretty good about it. Not that I haven't done this before, but it's been a while since I've been on a pamper-myself outing. And while sitting on a very uncomfortable parlor chair for 6 hours was not really my idea of 'pampering', I feel like a star in my new hair so it must be worth the butt cramps. And oh, the Php*,***. So sue me. HAHHAHAHA.
I think we're officially okay again. He initiated conversation the other day, he even laughed at one of my nervous quips -- like he did that day before the 'incident', which is thankfully, forgotten. But I think the incident did me good. I was able to re-align my intentions, and sort out my feelings from my principles and ended up right here: on the right track. On the righteous track. On the platonic track, where I should have been, right from the very start. And while it's still a kick seeing him and laughing around him, and making up all these kilig moments -- I think the 6-hour parlor stint was eye-opening for me. There was just too much time on my hands and thinking about the rut I'm currently in was inevitable. The incredible learning? -- At the very end of whatever mess I'm in whether it's the hard plastic salon chair for 6 hours or the cushy airline seat for 3, if I won't end up happy despite the fleeting moments or the incredibly interesting ones, maybe it's not worth pursuing. And if it's not worth pursuing, you could always be just friends.
And for now, I think that's how I'd like him to be. A friend. Just a friend. And maybe save my heart for someone I could actually spend a huge chunk of my lifetime with -- one who'll stick around for more than 3 hours, even 6.
