I went on a bike ride today.

It made me realize exactly how out-of-shape I am. I took a route that usually takes me about fifteen minutes to complete with a forty-pound bike (but hopefully I will be getting a new one for college…). Today, I used my mum’s bike, which weighs maybe half as much as mine. The fifteen-minute route took me at least twenty minutes. I finally had to get off the bike and push it up the last hill to my house, pushing my chubster dog in front of me.

Which brings me to my second point of the day. I love my dog.

I love her for her cuteness, and how warm she is on lonely nights when she cuddles with me, and the fact that she is very possessive and protective (but not obnoxiously so). But most of all, I love her for how she absolutely trusts me. When it’s time for a bath, she never wants one, but neither does she ever suspect that I’m going to get soap in her eyes or accidentally hurt her. When we’re going down a hill on a bike with her in the front basket, she leans out to feel the wind in her face. She knows I won’t crash.

I absolutely, unconditionally, love her.

But she is a chubster. She’s small for her breed, which means she should weigh between eight and eleven pounds. She weighs 13.6 pounds, or at least she did the last time I checked. Even when it’s on the front of a bike that only weighs twenty pounds, that extra thirteen pounds really makes things more challenging.

I suppose I probably shouldn’t complain. I’m small for my breed, too, and I’m rather a chubster myself. Hence the bike ride.

Was that just... a breakup?

Well, my romantic relationship with the lovely Brandon has ended. For the time being. And maybe 'the time being' means forever.

So, this afternoon I talked with my good friend. The first thing he said: "It's not you. It's me." From there, I quickly learned that he didn't know how he could make a relationship work. He doesn't have a steady job at the moment -- he's still working on that -- and he can't support himself, let alone a wife. Plus, you know, I still have four years of college to go through before I could even think about getting married.

I completely understand, of course. I don't know where I'm going to be in five years. My top choices are at my own book signing, on a movie set, or dancing background on Broadway, but at this point waitressing is just as likely.

We have decided to remain very good friends; after all, there's no law against a seventeen-year-old being friends with a twenty-four-year-old. Just against screwing him. Which I wasn't going to do, anyways. And, in the future, if something happens... well, we won't try to make it happen, but we won't try not to let it happen, either.

I'm just confused -- shouldn't I be more upset about this? I mean, yeah, I'm sad, but the only thing that really matters is that I'm not losing his friendship. He gave good reasons for not wanting to continue the romantic side of the relationship, reasons I have been thinking about quite a lot recently too, actually. I guess, as long as we're still talking and building a relationship, it really doesn't matter to me whether or not it's with the intention of getting married. I just want to be around him.

Lonely

I know it's dumb for me to be lonely right now. Really, I do. I fully understand the dumb-ness of that move. I have a boyfriend who loves me very much, and it makes no sense for me to be sad over not talking to him for four days.

But at the same time, I'm a teenage girl, and we get absurdly sad over that kind of thing. So yeah, it stings a bit.