09/10/00
"...you're too old to cry, too young to die...what happens in the in-between?..."
"...there's too many tears...but angels don't cry...i might fade away tonight if you close your eyes..."
I may regret this for the rest of my life, but I gave Megan the url to this page today. If you never hear from me again, it's because she killed me, chopped me into tiny pieces and fed me to the dogs. Ewwww...
Labor Day Weekend came and went. I became horribly pissed off at the world those 3 days, as I sat in my house bored shitless while everyone else I know either was making plans to venture away or was acting out prior plans. Megan went to Michigan with Ms. Thang, Jud & Pam were off God knows where, Cole went to San Francisco, Caleb was screwing some dude from Iowa he picked up in a bar who was here vacationing, and Zak was sick as a damn dog and gloating about his upcoming week long trip to Colorado. I didn't feel so great, myself, but I still wanted to be somewhere, anywhere, doing something, anything. I started to play my martyr complex to the hilt--"I'm going to go away for a very long time and the rest of them all take care of my house and my dogs and everything else and to hell with all of them."
Pity Party--my place--8:00--BYOB.
So Zak finally got over his illness and seemed to take an even greater interest in me. I don't get this situation at all. He seems to, through things he says and does, genuinely consider me an integral part of his life (how great a part, I have no idea, but a part nonetheless). But at the same time, there's still that distance. Could it be for my benefit? I have, after all, not made any implication that I'm in this for anything more than phenomenal screwing. Could it be that he's holding me at arm's length not only to satisfy his own need for space, but because he doesn't think I want anything more than that?
Bigger question still--DO I want anything more than that? I really have no idea. All I know for sure is that I think I feel differently about him than I ever have about anyone else before. As if the main question is not "how can you change my life/make my life whole/give me a life," but rather "how can you enrich my life?" That's a whole new ballgame for me, sports fans. I've never had a life of my own.
"...she's been everybody else's girl, maybe one day, she'll be her own..."
He told me Friday night at dinner that he was 22 the time he almost got married. I wanted to ask what stopped him, but I didn't. He did go on to say that he decided that, if he ever did get married, it was going to be "'til death do us part,'" that he wasn't going to ever be divorced.
Interesting words coming from a man, I thought. Particularly a midwestern born-and-bred, painfully heterosexual, huntin' fishin' truck drivin' man. And why would he have told me that, when I've made it damned clear on more than one occasion that I never want to get married again?
Would I marry someone? Okay, yes, I probably would. But only after a damned long time. No more fucking surprises. There were 9 months (almost to the day) between my ex-husband and I's first date and our wedding day. Megan and I were living together 2 months after we met. Perhaps that's what makes this particular situation so different--I could no more imagine moving in with Zak right now than I could imagine laying a finger aside of my nose and flying through the fucking chimney. Yes, I feel like I'm getting to know him more every day, but I still feel like I've only scratched the surface. Barely.
And I'm not sure he knows a hell of a lot about me at all. Mostly because I've kept my mouth shut about pretty much everything. I have to give him credit, though--for a pothead, he's pretty fucking observant. There are things he retains that just astound me, and things he notices that I don't even have to tell him. But it's always a surprise to me...because I'm never really sure that he's paying any damn attention to me at all. It's really hard to have a conversation with someone who spends the brunt of an evening flipping channels.
Which is why I particularly enjoy it when we go out for dinner--no t.v. We actually have conversations that last longer than the commercial break.
I realize that I sound completely negative about this situation, but I'm really not. I realize that I've made no real effort at communication with him, either. I'm equally guilty. So what's the deal? Is he a raging ass who considers me little more than a free prostitute, or are we both just too damn gun shy and tongue tied to make a move?
If I were a prostitute, he wouldn't have called me every single night the week he was too sick to put out. I'm just thinking about the night he called me, after I had resolved to spending the evening painting my toenails and watching China Beach reruns, and said in the most pathetic, pitiful voice I've ever heard, "I just ordered a movie on pay-per-view, you want to come over and watch it with me?"
I've been someone's whore before, and they weren't interested in spending any time with me during which I wasn't on my back. Yeah, I think this is definitely different.
But what if it's really different? What if this is something that could be really good, that I could really get used to? Shit, I'm not sure what scares me more--being his whore, or being loved by him. Thank God I went back to therapy.
On the home front, Megan and I are actually getting along better these days. I am trying to remember that there's no need for bitterness or jealousy or any of the other stuff we Scorpios are famous for. And it's getting easier. "...time was, part of me used to love you, part of me still does...you're no stranger, not that I am..." I'm just trying to concentrate on here and now and what's next, and not spend so much time--waste so much time--dwelling on what could have been, what should have been, what wasn't, what was. I've always said that "what if's" were a waste of time.
About damn time I start practicing what I preach, huh?
That'll do for now, I think. I am certainly going to try to update more faithfully. And a thanks to K and H for their recent comments--H, I know how difficult your "admission" must have been, but remember--admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery... :)
Sayonara, y'all...
But wait, there's more...