07/23/00
"...things are getting desperate..."
Just a quick entry before I grab some fast food ("McTrash," as he calls it) and head for Zak's. By the way, I'm very concerned that his mother may either be dead or very close to it, as he said there were about 6 messages from his brother on his machine when he got home today. I'm really hoping for the best but expecting the worst.
So the night of my last entry (Wednesday) I went over to Zak's on the pretense of getting enormously drunk. Well, not pretense, that was actually my sole intention. And I told him that. And I finished the bottle of really bad wine I've had 2 glasses of on prior occasions. And I was drunk, drunk, drunk, drunk, DRUNK. Ooooh, Lordy, I was loaded. With a capital LOAD. And he started putting the moves on and I said, "not while I'm drunk, I told you, I just came over here to drink." He asked me why, and said he'd never heard "not when I'm drunk before," and was curious. I didn't go into detail, just said "I don't like to have sex when I'm drunk." (Real reason--The Asshole, but I wasn't in the mood to get into it.) And he said, "I can't take advantage of a drunk woman," and we just sat on the couch, lounging on each other, watching t.v., until I staggered home.
Test 1--passed.
Thursday, I was really kind of feeling like a massive idiot. But he didn't give me any shit at all about it. I asked him "was it really bad?" and he said, "no, you were just yapping the whole time." But he didn't ask any more about the "not while I'm drunk" bit, and I went over later, and we had our usual good time, and our usual amazing sex.
Test 2--passed.
So he left Friday around noon, while I was at work. The damn thing of it is that Thursday, while I was working, I was like, totally thinking to myself, "I can take him or leave him, he's not important to me, gee isn't that cool?" And then by the time I went home Thursday night, reeking of Eternity and pot, all I could think of was slowly gliding my face down his chest and running my fingers across every inch of him.
Damn him for being so fucking good in bed.
So Friday night, Megan and I started talking, and she's full into "anger mode" right now. She chastised me for not seeming to care that we're split, "you seem happier now." And I told her, look, I've had the last year or so to mourn the death of our relationship, you know? I've been there. I've been sad. I've been angry. I've been hopeful. I've been desperate. And now, I'm moving on with my life, and it is good. I told her there's nothing I can say to her to make her feel any better, but that this is the way it is.
Saturday she left to go to Nebraska Furniture Mart with her parents. She claimed it was because "you dumped me and now I'm so desperate for company, I have to beg them to take me shopping." Shit, she would have done that even if we were still together. Megan has a serious apron string issue--in case anyone reading this hadn't previously noticed.
So Saturday afternoon I drove to Lawrence to see my dear old friend, Erin. Erin and I will have to be friends for the rest of my life, because she knows every damn thing I've ever done since the age of 16 and dammit, the bitch has an amazing memory. Visiting Erin is also a lot like visiting a day spa--she has more cash invested in beauty products than she has in her education. But I just love Erin, always have, even when we sort of grew apart (because I was essentially trying to live as someone I wasn't, never will be). We painted our nails, had dinner, had a few drinks, stopped for donuts, and had a lovely time. I have so missed talking to her. She's the only person in the world I've ever really felt I could bare my soul to because, whatever I would say, she would have already known. We've made tentative plans to get together with other friends of hers next weekend, and I truly hope that this time, we'll remain in contact.
I came home this morning, and Megan arrived shortly after, greeting me with "I didn't expect you here this early." Glad to see you, too, Sugarbuns. Then she informs me, "I bought a new bedroom set, so you'll have to make room if you want the dresser." Uh, it's mine, isn't it? Then she started talking about ripping up the carpet in that room and painting, and I said "so you're staying?" Her choice, of course, is to move out, but she realizes no one is going to be very excited about renting to her and a 70-pound dog. So she told me she's staying, "at least til the first of the year, then I'll see where I'm at." Whatever. And today she had her lovely little prick friend Faggot with her, and the two of them together just make me sick...so here I am...
I called Zak after spending an hour on the phone with my mother. I kind of sort of told her about my "friendship" with him, and she was glad--"that's just what you need right now." She didn't come out and say it, but I think she got the hint that we're screwing, and otherwise just friends. Go, MOM! And I told her about Megan and about my near-suicide attempt in January and she only flaked out momentarily but told me to please start telling her what's going on in my life from now on. Maybe now that I've gotten over a lot (not all, but a lot) of the bitterness and bullshit that I've had with her my whole life, we can finally start to actually forage some kind of relationship. Actually, I really hope that we do. Of course my mother and I will always be vastly different people, but family is family, and the only way to get rid of them is to lose a part of yourself.
Right?
So here I am...happy with my new job...giddy over my new "fuck interest"...tolerating my living arrangements with the ex-wife...socializing more...happy with myself for the first time in 27 years...broke as fuck but not real excited about it (assholes processed my house payment 3 days early, I am now $418 overdrawn)...breaking new ground with my family...writing more. I'm still just doing bits and pieces that I hope to eventually piece together into some kind of work. I've just been away from the bicycle for so long, I'm not quite ready for the Tour de France, know what I mean? And it will certainly help to get my computer back up and running. (My dad is going to let me "borrow" his software this week, hot damn.) I just can't "write" literally, my fingers get too tired and I can't write as fast as my mind does.
Hope you're all doing well. I've got to go eat and bring myself down from my current antihistamine high. The DayQuil Diet--coming soon to a seminar hall near you...
But wait, there's more...