5/30/00
"...she's got a sky-blue swan's 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..."
Why does everything feel so much like "back to normal" and yet so completely off balance?
I'm sitting in the same desk, at the same job, as I have for more than a year now. And this morning I said goodbye to the same girl and kissed the same lips I have for the last four. And yet everything feels so totally out of place.
Yesterday we decided to take the dogs to Longview Lake about 15 minutes southeast of our house. We started the morning on a particularly sour note--Megan was completely into "irritating" mode and the more irritated I get, the more she revels in it. By the time we were getting ready to leave, I was thinking to myself, this is such a huge mistake, we really should just end it before we kill each other, etc. Then I let the dogs outside expecting them to go to the fucking car and George and Martha hightail it to who knows where--they just vanished. So after spending 10 minutes searching for them, I was so pissed off I decided they should spend the day in their kennel, so I tossed them inside and we were off. On the way there, however, I began to feel horribly guilty, so Megan suggested we get to the lake, find a place to set up camp for the day, and then I could go back and get my dogs. Which we did. She also apologized for being a pain in the ass. Thus turned the mood of the afternoon.
The dogs had a fantastic time. I only wish I could say the same for us. I don't think I could walk down Main Street naked and get more "hey baby"s and "nice ass"s than we did yesterday. What is it about trash men that they think all women live for that shit? Plus the place was not only crawling with skanky people, it was filthy. Trash everywhere. And when I found a fish hook in Noodle's leash (thank God not in her foot!) that was the final straw. Next week we are going to try Lake Jacomo--in the upper-middle class area of town. It's true what they say, "the bigger the boat, the smaller the trailer..."
So we went home and prepared a lovely dinner and the rest of the evening was very polite and cordial. And I'm realizing...I don't want polite and cordial. I want passion. I want to know that the world would stop if I fell off of it. And I don't get that feeling from her, not at all. I get the feeling that my presence is comforting to her and that's about it. Let's face it, old jeans are comforting, you don't need a person for that. She doesn't love me anymore, not in the way that matters.
And that hurts.
So where the fuck do we go from here? As much as I want to salvage the relationship, what if there's nothing to salvage? You can't force passion. I brought up "couples therapy" again yesterday and was only met with resistance. Additionally, she referred to the people I've been seeing as "crackpot students" which seriously pissed me off.
That's another problem--not only does she have no passion for me whatsoever, she has no interest in my life. And she finds my mental processes and everything I've been through dismissable.
I suppose I should clarify that by "passion," I refer not specifically to sexual passion. That's only a part of it, and I think I've noted this before, but I live to repeat myself. I'm talking about passion as intense feeling for another person. We don't have either.
Again she tried to tell me that she just doesn't want to have sex and it's not just with me, it's with anybody. How can anyone honestly not take that personally? "Oh, I love you, I really do, but when you touch me, it makes me want to vomit?" Yeah, that sounds like love to me.
And on top of everything, I have poison ivy. Dammit. It's on my left ankle and my 2nd toe on that foot and on my left knee and there's a spot on my left arm. It's all I can do to not scratch myself into a coma. And it's no consolation at all that Megan doesn't get poison ivy. O, the fun I am missing of rubbing myself all over her unsuspecting body deep into the night...bitch!
I can't process anything. I don't know where we go from here. In spite of everything she said this weekend, I think it's the memory of me that she misses more than me, period. I think it's the comfort of knowing that you have someone who loves you and has loved you and knows you more than anything else. It's familiar. It's safe.
It's a death trap, and it's killing us both.
I really don't know what to do.
L sent me an e-mail noting that he has met "a friend," and that she really "has her shit together." I responded quite frankly by stating "I have never had my shit together and likely never will." I have given up on any kind of chance encounter with this guy. It was merely ridiculous fantasy, anyway, and maybe if I cool my jets a little, I'll find one more friend in the world.
Maybe I need to spend some time focusing on who I should BE, rather than who I should be WITH...
There's not going to be any easy way out of this, is there?
If only there were a way to end a relationship without that awful sense of failure...like you've failed them, yourself, the world...all the people who looked at you and said "they make a good couple"...the yous of the future who were looking ever so forward to growing old together...
If only the Psychic Friends were real.
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