09/18/00
"...now we're all grown up and we need so much, never knew that the price would go up as such..."
The days are growing decidedly shorter and this disturbs me to no end. I have so many things I need to be doing, so many things I should be doing, and yet I have no energy, no inspiration, no motivation, no nothing. It's as if I've been drugged. Yet my heart races, my mind wanders, and I can't sleep, or eat regularly, or focus, or do anything but smoke cigarettes and whine.
Last Wednesday night, Megan brought Ms. Thang over to the house, 2 days after our decision to abandon the "significant others not allowed in the house rule" (her proposal, by the way). They holed up in the basement for a couple of hours before I finally decided I'd had enough and left. I realize I shouldn't feel anything about this--we are no longer a couple and haven't been for a long time--but it did bother me. Tremendously. Particularly given her entire attitude toward my relationship with Zak. I just kept thinking of the way I smiled politely at Ms. Thang and said "nice to meet you" and contrasting it to Megan's parking outside of Zak's house threatening to kick his ass. Anyway, I left, called Zak, no message.
Dammit.
But he returned the call about 20 minutes later upon his return home. I told him to put that bottle of wine he took from his mom's place in the freezer and that I would be there in 15 minutes. I managed to suck down half the bottle before the nightly flesh shenanigans began. I knew that I should refrain, specifically because of my state of intoxication, but I didn't protest. Halfway into it, I started thinking things...you don't give a damn about me...you're just using me...you don't care...I mean nothing to you...you only want to hurt me... Not pleasant thoughts. And I got so scared, and pissed off, and I swear I actually came really damn close to just punching him. But I didn't. I didn't say a word. I just waited until it was over and then I couldn't even look at him. I just sat there and stared at the wall. He asked me "did you lose something over there?" I said no. And then I just started to cry. I couldn't stop. He asked me what was wrong. I couldn't answer. He asked again, then pulled me to him, and I still couldn't answer. I just laid there and cried. He asked again, "what?" but I couldn't say anything. What was there to say without spilling my life story? No thanks. He let me cry, then I sat up and wiped the mascara off my face and he went into the bathroom. When he came back I was already half dressed. He said, "so maybe some day, huh?" Maybe some day what? "Maybe some day, you'll tell me." I told him he didn't want to know. Then he started playing it off, saying he hated women crying, asking me if I was still there. Before I left, I looked him in the eye and asked him, "so why do you keep calling me, anyway?" He rolled his eyes and said "oh, God, here we go," and I said, "never mind, I don't want to know, don't ask, don't tell." Then I left.
I spent the next day wondering if he was even going to speak to me again, or if I had convinced him that I was a raging nut case. He answered the questions when he came over to see if I'd talked to Jud, etc., and acted as if nothing had ever happened.
Praise Jesus, hallelujah.
This reaction has confused more than one person, but let me explain. His response to my moment of insanity tells me that he is willing to let me have my secrets. That he respects my privacy, and if there's something I don't want to tell him, I don't have to. He's not going to poke and prod until he has all the ins and outs of my psyche down pat. And that is something that means more to me than cash.
I went to therapy then, and felt much better afterwards. I've decided I don't need to know "where is this going," that I can "ride the wave" and be just fine with it, because not everything in life needs to be psychoanalyzed to death. Wanting to know so much is only more of my control freak-ism coming out. And I know that sometimes, you have more control over a situation when you relinquish control altogether. So that's what I'm doing. When I left therapy I called him up and asked him what he was doing. He was counting his cash that he collected for his Colorado trip. I said, great, buy me dinner. And he did. And we had sex later that night, and no icky thoughts...no tears...no interrogations...it was beautiful.
Maybe I'm not so crazy, after all.
So since he was leaving town at 4:00 a.m. Saturday, I decided to head to the lake for the weekend. By myself. I called the trip "Desperation Weekend" and left Friday after work...after stopping by Zak's to say goodbye. Christ, I miss him. He gave me a key to his house (because, he said, "you'll probably need some place to hide, right?") and told me to have it clean by the time of his return this coming Sunday. I told him, "fuck you, I ain't your maid OR your wife," even though he offered to pay me. Oh, yes, I have every intention of cleaning it, and I'll forego his cash for dinner, just because I'm a helluva gal. And because I miss him so damn much it's a pleasure to be in his filthy fucking house. Did I mention I miss him?
I went to the lake, and it was wierd...because every time I've been there over the last 4 years, it's been with Megan. We ate here. We went to this cave. We held hands on this trail. Nasty, puke, barf. Especially knowing that Ms. Thang was going to be at my house merrily fucking my ex-wife in my absence all damn weekend.
I got home around 11:30 yesterday morning and that bitch's car was parked in the driveway...in MY parking space...and there she was, standing on my front porch in her pj's, smoking a cigarette as if she fucking belonged there...if looks could kill, that bitch would be history. Still, I was ever so pleasant. Even hung out with them and had a drink and chatted it up for a couple of hours. Then they retreated to Megan's cave and were down there long enough for me to get my film developed, go to Zak's, wallow in his bed, go through his shit, water his plant, pick up my pictures, and get back to the house. They were still there at 5:00. Megan says they "fell asleep." What the fuck ever. Today, Ms. Thang actually got a call...at MY house, on the phone I pay for...regarding an apartment, as she is searching for a place to live.
So why does this all bother me so damn much? Perhaps because Megan's new "instant couple-dom" is only affirmation of that which I feared all along...that I never meant shit to her in the first fucking place, that she was only with me because...well...I was there. Which really makes me wonder about this current "relationship" she's in. I really think she has a passionless soul, and I don't believe she's capable of any kind of deep emotional connection with anyone. Which makes it obvious what kind of relationship this is...superficial, empty, of-the-moment.
That's what she's rubbing in my face, that she's so gung ho that I need to find for myself?
No thanks. I prefer something with a little more depth. A little more passion. A little more feeling. Not just
But wait, there's more...