The Chronicles of Dr. Crazy

Well, in an hour I teach my first graduate class, and I will walk in there with a black eye. And not some sort of metaphorical black eye, but the real deal - swollen, deep purple with bits of red running through it. You may be asking yourself, how did this happen? (I've been asking myself the same question all morning in a "how has my life come to this" sort of a way, and also in an attempt to prepare answers for anyone who asks me.)

Here are a list of possible answers to how I got a black eye - my first since I was like 10 years old:

1. street fight.
2. walked into a door.
3. jumped by a gang of rowdies.
4. hit myself.
5. somebody punched me.
6. fight club.

As you might guess, none of these is how the black eye happened. The real story is so unbelievable that I hesitate even to confess it here, but of course, I will, for if my injury can't entertain others than really, what good is it?

I was sitting (yes, sitting) on my balcony with Freud and the conversation took the following turn:

Freud: I want a relationship now, but I don't really see that happening with us.

Dr. C: Is that because of me or because of how you feel?

Freud: Well, you... You just don't really seem like....

Dr. C: You've never asked me what I want, and I haven't told you.

Freud: Well, what do you want? Really?

Dr. C: Oh my god, I have to honestly tell you my feelings now, don't I?

Freud: You don't have to...

Dr. C: No, no. I can do this.

[Totally at a loss, Dr. C makes a quick movement and the next thing she knows she has fallen down, knocking the right side of her forehead into the metal railing of her balcony. The head begins to swell, a production is made of getting ice to put on it, Freud laughs at Dr. C's misfortune, and Dr. C goes on and on about how she can't believe this has happened on a school night and about fears of concussion. Dr. C. never revealed her true feelings about Freud, because her commitmentphobia runs so deep that it actually physically manifested itself as a loss of motor skills and stopped her from doing so.]

So, I attempted to at least balance out my face a bit by putting purple-y eye shadow on my other eye (I'd rather have people think I just wear bad makeup than think that I'm a battered woman) and I parted my hair so that it covers much of the eye and the balcony-railing bruise on my forehead. As you can imagine, I will not be keeping the graduate class for the full 2 hours and 45 minutes.

So, I think that I'm going to have to have a real conversation with Freud related to what's going on with us - I realize I'm completely fucked up, but I'm actually beginning to be in like with him (I think because he's been against hooking up casually and I'm compelled because I want what I can't have) and this is making me act like a complete idiot when I'm in the same place as him. I can't have that. So, basically, I do need to tell him my feelings and then he can either reject me or be into me (both sound like bad options, but whatever) but I can then stop getting myself into uncomfortable situations in which I 1) drink too much, 2) say stupid things, or 3) spontaneously give myself a black eye to avoid any real conversations.