5/24/00
"I try to trap her in my head but she knows where the light comes in...those rays live to make her spin..."
I recall anything and everything I said yesterday about being able to see the future. I can't see SHIT. (Heavy sigh) I guess I will just have to quit being so CONTROLLING and learn to take life as it comes... I think Megan may be more in tune with me than I've previously thought. I decided to make one last go of a real "chat" last night. Basically, it was a pretty lame ass evening. I took the dogs to the field for some shameless flirting while Megan showered and then she went "for a walk" with this ugly dyke she works with. They didn't bother taking the dogs because I had taken the girls over to the field and once is plenty for Miss Noodle when it's hot. So before she leaves she tells me "F is coming over later, we might go to Foo's (Fabulous Frozen Custard) with him and his new boyfriend." And I'm thinking, oh, joy, F has a new bf, that ought to make him even MORE intollerably annoying... and sure enough, not five minutes after Megan leaves, F shows up...I was in the living room with the stereo up full blast trying to raise my voice an octave or two so I could match Maria's, just belting it out like a fool, and Faggot just strolls into my living room. (THAT'S what "F" stands for--Faggot. It's our pet name for him. Color us politically incorrect.) Then he says "I've got this CD in my car, you've got to hear this song--it's called 'Pussy'" and I'm thinking, huzzah, can't wait. So he turns OFF my stereo and sticks this other damn CD in but can't get it to work because my CD player is fucked up (electronics hate me, I guess) and you have to fuck with it to get it to play. Had I been feeling more friendly, I might have beat on it so he could play his pussy song, but I wasn't. So after he decides it isn't working and I'm in the kitchen preparing veggies for dinner, he sits in my living room and flips on the fucking t.v. ASSHOLE! Finally about half an hour later he announces that he's leaving. Bummer!
So there I was, alone in the house, waiting for Megan to return. And I waited, and waited, and waited, and finally she calls at like, 8:30 and says "I'm on my way." Gee, did you get hungry? Had I known she was going to be so long, I would have actually done something with myself instead of puttering about the house like a loser.
So when she got home I relayed my chronic restlessness. And she asked me where that came from, so I started laying down the psychobabble explanations, and she understood. Then I told her about how I often wondered if we were really doing the right thing by staying together, because most of the time, I wonder if it was just our mutual craziness that brought us together in the first place. And she asked me "do you like me as a girlfriend, or more like a pal?" and I said, "lately, more like a pal." And she wasn't defensive, or pissy, or any of that, and she said she understood because she often feels the same way. Then we acknowledged that neither of us can imagine life totally void of the other, and then the conversation just kind of ended. That's how it always goes with us--no fucking resolution. Ever. Because I think we both fear making any kind of decisions because our decisions usually turn out to be ever so fucked up.
So what am I going to do? Let's inspect truth, shall we? I don't want to walk away from a four-year relationship because let's face it, four years is a healthy chunk of time. And in spite of the fact that she drives me nutty and we have virtually nothing in common, I do love her. She's also my very best friend in the whole world. Okay, another truth--I apparently bat for both teams, okay? (In a physical sense, anyway--I still don't think I could ever have a lengthy romantic relationship with a man.) And yet another truth--I desperately need to get laid. By anyone, male, female, undecided, it don't matter, dammit!!! So now that I'm being honest (with myself and the web world, anyway) does that make my wanton slutiness any less disgusting? Someone told me once, "once a whore, always a whore." Maybe he was on to something. Maybe some people just aren't the "til death do us part" type. And maybe I'm one of them. It's my intense desire and need for chaos and unpredictability.
So this morning I open up my e-mail and there's one from L, a friend of C's who is a big dope-smokin' ambulance chasin' lawyer that actually lives directly beneath C in the same shitty apartment building deep in da hood. I know L only casually, and he's always struck me as incredibly nice, horribly cute (though a bit on the chubby side but that seems to appeal to me, God help me) but we've never really had any in-depth conversations. Well, when C scheduled his last dinner party he did so on POKER NIGHT (gasp) which L was hosting, so L didn't stay long past dinner. And when C sent the e-mail around about the date and time of the feast, I sent a mass reply of "oh, Jesus Mary and Joseph, don't interfere with POKER NIGHT," to which L responded that I was just jealous because I'd never been invited to play but I was really welcome any time. To which I responded that since I had cut down on my smoking and was now twice the bitch I ever was, poker was probably not a good idea for me. Which prompted today's reply: "Miss Angela: I enjoyed seeing you again last Tuesday, I wish I would have been able to spend more time chatting with you, but you know...poker calls. Thanks for being honest about your temperament. I don't know about that 'twice the bitch' shit, I never thought anything of the sort about you. Talk to you later, eh? L" All righty...to the best of my knowledge, he didn't send e-mail to any of the other attendees indicating his pleasure at having seen them again and his apologies for rushing off...but I may be just making big deals out of nothing, as usual. Oh, who cares what's really going on here, the thought that someone might think I'm a hotsy babe just makes me tingly. I'm such a fucking narcissistic whore. No wonder I have no friends, I can barely stand to be around myself!
"She's got a sky blue swans down powder puff...and a corset to keep her spirits up...she don't sweat, she sours and melts like ice cream in the sun...I hear them talk about the palace but it's so far out of reach...so I'll do my time then say goodbye to panic beach..."
I really miss having friends that you can call up at a moment's notice and say, "hey, wanna meet me at the bar after work?" and they will actually say "yes" instead of giving you a running list of all the shit they have to do. Hey, I have shit to do, too, I just don't want to do it. Megan's having dinner with her mom tonight, which means she'll be home late (like around 9) so I have about 3-and-a-half hours in which to occupy myself. Hmmm...since my computer's busted and the school lab is closed, my options appear limited to (a) hanging out with C at the video store; (b) catching up on housework I've neglected, i.e., litterbox, laundry, and scooping dog shit from the back yard; and (c) getting six degrees of shitfaced at my favorite bar and making it home in time to pass out in front of "Emeril LIVE!" Gee...when I put it that way...it's not such a hard call! The only thing is that while I have no qualms about drinking alone, I hate to go to the bar by myself if I don't have to, because Megan's given me a complex about that sort of thing. See, when I lived in Omaha, I would do everything alone--go to movies, get coffee, have dinner, drink, etc. Then she told me that she always felt really sorry for people she saw out by themselves, that they looked like lonely losers. And even though I think her manner of thinking on this point is fucked up, I can't help but think, "I don't want to look like a lonely loser." Plus, the bar I want to go to is across the street from the county jail's release office, so there's always a bunch of newly-free jerk offs in there looking for a date, and it's easier to fend them off if you actually have someone else to talk to.
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