As I was telling M the other night, my problem is that I foolishly refuse to accept that it is a game, in the strictest, Richard Dawkins, sense of the word. Not just the reproductive sense of it, but the fact that everything is a game, if you take the definition to the extreme.

The thing is, I haven't learned to create sufficient separation. Intellectually, I understand that playing the game doesn't mean that you don't care, but emotionally, it still feels like deception to me.

We won't even dig into the fact that, at least at this point in time, I've got no game.

Still, I have become mindful of the rules (as laid out in "Swingers", no less. Yes, I know, I'm doomed.) So I am observing them, despite telling myself that there are no rules, even though I know there are rules, it's just that we don't all have the same ones.

Dear God, I'm doomed.