So here’s what happened.

GB and I bought wedding rings today, since it was a gorgeous spring-like (if not quite fully spring) day, and today was the first day in a week we both didn’t feel like death. Hooray for the end of the flu! And hooray for cheap wedding rings! (I think–let’s see what happens when they actually get here…)

And this whole flu thing has been a pain in the ass, and I haven’t done any work in about four days. So when GB decided to go out to see a band tonight with Jason (which is *so not his name*), I figured I’d go meet The Wrangler out at the bar for a few, since we haven’t done that since we broke up.

And that was fine. The Squirrel and Bad Idea and the SoapStar were at the bar when I got there, so I got to hang out with them a bit, and have Bad Idea congratulate me (one too many times) about the wedding, and confirm that he’ll be camping for it. And then they left, and The Wrangler and I settled in for some more drinking, and…sigh. It was good. We drank. We talked. We cried a little. We agreed he probably doesn’t want to come to the wedding ceremony. And then we split a cab, and he tried to get me to come to his house, and there was a smidgen of kissing, and I decided that going home alone was so my best choice. And it was, I know–I totally made the right decision on that. But it’s complicated, and a little achy on the heart, reminding people why–even though you love them–it’s better that you’re not dating, and it’s better that you don’t spend the night.

Although sometimes it seems like a really good idea.

Well. GB and I aren’t planning on changing the open/poly relationship–we’ve been open and poly since we started dating, and I think that part will stay. And who knows what this relationship will look like on the other side of the wedding, right? So I offer, right now, just a small, drunk sigh, for all the ways that love is less than easy.