What are "we"?

I have issues. I really do.

Today navy cornered me and asked me what "we" were. I tried to dance around it, I cracked jokes, I played with my dog, and I didn't succeed in changing the topic whatsoever. He just kept asking, damn him. So I said "I don't know."

He countered with the typical, you're different when we're alone, why do you get weird and act like nothing is going on when we're out with friends, blah blah blah.

That's how a true playa roles homey (lol, I thought ghetto talk would fit nicely here), but no really. I really don't know what's wrong.

I've always been the anti-PDA girl, but it's getting worse. I don't even WANT people to know that I'm WITH navy. I find it slightly amusing when I see other girls hitting on him at the bar when I leave him to be with friends. I don't know why. He always looks over at me with this helpless sheepish grin, and tries to talk the drunk girl out of introducing him to her friend --- and instead of being the normal girl going over there to stake her claim... I carry on with my business.

I don't want a boyfriend. I don't want to be tied down - and so far, other than having some unsightly fungus from an aircraft carrier (GROSS GROSS GROSS) he's been utterly perfect... gross.

I want an out.


Tonight I kinda got one. He went to B's house to give her chocolate cake (see? perfect, he went to go make her feel better on my request... *sigh*) and she text me saying she found naughty pictures on his phone. There's NO WAY he'd have ANY naughty ANYTHING of mine on that thing, so I text her it was probably some other girl and that I was going to bed. Then I text navy asking what pictures she was talking about, and stopped replying to B's texts.

Three situations came to mind.
1. B was looking at pictures navy snapped of me on webcam
2. navy has pictures of a random ho
3. B was playing a joke she thought would be funny.

I reacted thinking it was situation number 3, but in the back of my head I thought "this is my out."

IS THAT NORMAL?!

I meet a hot guy, really into me, who talks to me while I'm a million miles away, and the second I can get out of it I jump on it?

Then B calls me to let me know that she was joking and --- get this: I cry.

Yep.

Not an all out cry, just like one of those chest tightening, one droplet release kind of cry's that makes you sound like it's an all out sob when it's not.

I need therapy. Seriously. This shit isn't normal.

So navy calls me after he leaves her house, asking if I was ok, and I'm like "yep, fiiiiiine" and he bought it. Funny thing is... I am fine, if you call numb fine.

T. H. E. R. A. P. Y.

I hope he doesn't ask what "we" are again, I don't want to deal with this shit.