Friday, July 25, 2003
when scott and i first met, we were smitten with each other right away. we were both surprised, happy, and a little wary. on our second date, he said "we should wait until our third date to get married," and "health insurance is just another reason for us to get married." i was really surprised that he was talking about marriage, i thought guys never, never mentioned marriage unless they were serious, but i thought - i guess he really likes me!
in january, we had troubles and broke up for a little while. when we were breaking up, i asked him why he said those things. he said "maybe i felt that way. and maybe it scared me."
sunday i asked him the same question again. why in the world did he say those things? his answer: "i was just joking."
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in january, we had troubles and broke up for a little while. when we were breaking up, i asked him why he said those things. he said "maybe i felt that way. and maybe it scared me."
sunday i asked him the same question again. why in the world did he say those things? his answer: "i was just joking."
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Thursday, July 24, 2003
Tuesday, July 22, 2003
so it seems that scott and I are finished. we’ve come to an impasse, a standstill. he’s giving me more time, energy, etc. than is comfortable for him. and it’s nowhere near enough for me. he has a shoebox-sized space open in his life for a relationship, and I want something the size of a house.
so needless to say, the day after we have the breakup conversation, dear Ramón just happens to call. he’s in town and I should come find him. looking for a transitional object much?
so here are the things a good TO should say/do in the course of an evening:
when you sneak up behind him on the patio of bar and he turns around and sees you for the first time he should say “you’re more beautiful than ever! no, seriously!”.
he should give you the blueberries at the bottom of his beer glass. and then all his friends decide you should have their blueberries too. then when one of his friends says “look at these beautiful ears” he should say “yes, a beautiful little elf, little angel.”
he should say “I’ve missed you so much!” and then pick you up in his arms and run, laughing down the street.
in the backseat of his friend’s car, he should put his arm around you and put flowers in your hair and call you an angel.
when you go swimming at the waterfall and you’re sitting on a rock next to it, he should come over to you, look up and say “you know I love you, right?” and then offer you water to drink from his cupped hands.
coming home soaked from the waterfall and an incredible thunderstorm on the mountain, he should say “play the harmonica with me. you play the low notes and I’ll play the high ones”
he should rub your shoulders and dance with you in the living room, wrapping his blanket around both of you while his buddies hang out in the kitchen drinking beers. and when his friends call to him, he smiles and says he’ll be right there, and doesn’t go.
he should drink your beer for you when you’ve had enough, and he should drive you back to your car in his underwear, stopping halfway to put his shorts on, laughing about if he got pulled over – that he would say I was so cute he couldn’t help himself.
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so needless to say, the day after we have the breakup conversation, dear Ramón just happens to call. he’s in town and I should come find him. looking for a transitional object much?
so here are the things a good TO should say/do in the course of an evening:
when you sneak up behind him on the patio of bar and he turns around and sees you for the first time he should say “you’re more beautiful than ever! no, seriously!”.
he should give you the blueberries at the bottom of his beer glass. and then all his friends decide you should have their blueberries too. then when one of his friends says “look at these beautiful ears” he should say “yes, a beautiful little elf, little angel.”
he should say “I’ve missed you so much!” and then pick you up in his arms and run, laughing down the street.
in the backseat of his friend’s car, he should put his arm around you and put flowers in your hair and call you an angel.
when you go swimming at the waterfall and you’re sitting on a rock next to it, he should come over to you, look up and say “you know I love you, right?” and then offer you water to drink from his cupped hands.
coming home soaked from the waterfall and an incredible thunderstorm on the mountain, he should say “play the harmonica with me. you play the low notes and I’ll play the high ones”
he should rub your shoulders and dance with you in the living room, wrapping his blanket around both of you while his buddies hang out in the kitchen drinking beers. and when his friends call to him, he smiles and says he’ll be right there, and doesn’t go.
he should drink your beer for you when you’ve had enough, and he should drive you back to your car in his underwear, stopping halfway to put his shorts on, laughing about if he got pulled over – that he would say I was so cute he couldn’t help himself.
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Friday, July 18, 2003
Wendy, my friend from Del Mar, CA., is getting married in the fall, and making herself a pearl tiara. Bridget, my childhood best friend, is in Prague, kicking back strangely-named drinks at bars with Italian men. Sena is launching her website with beautiful poetry, photos, and a tarot reading service. Mike is married, with two kids, a beautiful wife, and a dog.
What am I doing? I am wondering what I’m doing.
Every summer, Scott’s office lets out at 12:30, so the executives can beat the traffic on their way to their weekend homes. Last summer, he would catch the first train and be here Friday afternoon, and I would make up an excuse and sneak out of work to be with him.
This summer, he says, “I’ll see you Saturday – early afternoon ok?” I’ve been waiting, wondering if he would come see me Friday, but he has been using his Fridays for doing laundry, relaxing, catching up with the week. Don’t rock the boat.
Today, Friday afternoon, he is not relaxing, not doing his laundry. He is going to the movies (or something) with his friend Sarah. Of course he needs to spend time with his friends. Am I trying to stop him from spending time with his friends? Of course not. But it does bother me that in choosing whether to spend his Fridays with me, alone, or with a friend, he chooses Sarah.
Now he has said that there is no attraction between him and Sarah. She had a crush on him a few months ago, but since she’s acting less weirdly around him, Scott thinks she’s over it. He told me that he initially thought she was a lesbian – that there is zero attraction there, even the one percent that usually exists between any man and woman.
I asked him last night what it meant that he isn’t coming to see me on Fridays. And that he’s seeing his friends on Friday instead. He said he’s a different person this year than he was last year (granted). Last year he wasn’t in love with me and now he is. (okay… so wouldn’t he be more interested in seeing me?) He said he needs a lot of alone time (so why is he seeing Sarah?)
I read an article today that said a man would never hesitate to pick up a $100 bill on the street. Apparently I’m not a $100 bill this summer.
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What am I doing? I am wondering what I’m doing.
Every summer, Scott’s office lets out at 12:30, so the executives can beat the traffic on their way to their weekend homes. Last summer, he would catch the first train and be here Friday afternoon, and I would make up an excuse and sneak out of work to be with him.
This summer, he says, “I’ll see you Saturday – early afternoon ok?” I’ve been waiting, wondering if he would come see me Friday, but he has been using his Fridays for doing laundry, relaxing, catching up with the week. Don’t rock the boat.
Today, Friday afternoon, he is not relaxing, not doing his laundry. He is going to the movies (or something) with his friend Sarah. Of course he needs to spend time with his friends. Am I trying to stop him from spending time with his friends? Of course not. But it does bother me that in choosing whether to spend his Fridays with me, alone, or with a friend, he chooses Sarah.
Now he has said that there is no attraction between him and Sarah. She had a crush on him a few months ago, but since she’s acting less weirdly around him, Scott thinks she’s over it. He told me that he initially thought she was a lesbian – that there is zero attraction there, even the one percent that usually exists between any man and woman.
I asked him last night what it meant that he isn’t coming to see me on Fridays. And that he’s seeing his friends on Friday instead. He said he’s a different person this year than he was last year (granted). Last year he wasn’t in love with me and now he is. (okay… so wouldn’t he be more interested in seeing me?) He said he needs a lot of alone time (so why is he seeing Sarah?)
I read an article today that said a man would never hesitate to pick up a $100 bill on the street. Apparently I’m not a $100 bill this summer.
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Wednesday, July 09, 2003
...so yes, the holiday at the beach with scott was lovely. we became very close and relaxed around each other. sometimes in the afternoons we would lie on his bed (our room had two single beds and his was less dangerous - mine sagged and rocked). i woudl read and he would play his video game and we would tease each other, like two kids who've become stir crazy. in general it was sweet. there were a few moments that were pretty grim, though.
one morning at breakfast i was telling him a psychotic, fairy-tale on acid dream that i had the night before, and he looked at me and said, quite snidely, "*okay*, joelle, that's enough." i was shocked. had i really come to the beach with a man who could give a shit about my dreams? later he said that he sees the world through competitive goggles (from early competitive relationship with his brother) and he thought i was bragging about how creative my dreams were compared to his.
goes a lot deeper than i thought. then there was the morning of stress when we were leaving.
he spent friday night at my house before going back to new york. he mentioned a dream he had that he had peed the bed, and said there was more to it. he dreamed that he lived next door to an older couple, who were very sexually active - kind of wild. he went over there and the woman was tied up and he (scott) had to pee on her. he said "don't worry, it doesn't mean i want to pee on you."
i said something about the symbolic nature of dreams, and how seemingly shocking things in dreams can be just to get your attention, so you can figure out what they really mean. we talked about how peeing is something that is usually quite private, and how he had revealed himself to me that week on an level that was more intimate than he had before. so maybe the dream was about his fears (or increased feelings of sexuality? power?) that go along with revealing oneself.
he had shown me his video game one afternoon, and i had helped him play it. he said i picked up on it really quickly and had good strategies (it was a war game). he had worried that i had gone along with it just to put on a good face, not because i truly enjoyed it. he worried that he had forced it up on me. he connected that moment with the dream as well.
i hate to say it, but his job - writing for a porn magazine - makes me worry. i understand intellectually the reasons why he was drawn to it (catholic repression, etc.), but i worry that things go much deeper than that. i worry that there are really dark places there.
worry, worry, worry.
what is it with women worrying and hoping? i feel i have such little control over the situation - either i take it, and him, the way it is, or i leave.
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one morning at breakfast i was telling him a psychotic, fairy-tale on acid dream that i had the night before, and he looked at me and said, quite snidely, "*okay*, joelle, that's enough." i was shocked. had i really come to the beach with a man who could give a shit about my dreams? later he said that he sees the world through competitive goggles (from early competitive relationship with his brother) and he thought i was bragging about how creative my dreams were compared to his.
goes a lot deeper than i thought. then there was the morning of stress when we were leaving.
he spent friday night at my house before going back to new york. he mentioned a dream he had that he had peed the bed, and said there was more to it. he dreamed that he lived next door to an older couple, who were very sexually active - kind of wild. he went over there and the woman was tied up and he (scott) had to pee on her. he said "don't worry, it doesn't mean i want to pee on you."
i said something about the symbolic nature of dreams, and how seemingly shocking things in dreams can be just to get your attention, so you can figure out what they really mean. we talked about how peeing is something that is usually quite private, and how he had revealed himself to me that week on an level that was more intimate than he had before. so maybe the dream was about his fears (or increased feelings of sexuality? power?) that go along with revealing oneself.
he had shown me his video game one afternoon, and i had helped him play it. he said i picked up on it really quickly and had good strategies (it was a war game). he had worried that i had gone along with it just to put on a good face, not because i truly enjoyed it. he worried that he had forced it up on me. he connected that moment with the dream as well.
i hate to say it, but his job - writing for a porn magazine - makes me worry. i understand intellectually the reasons why he was drawn to it (catholic repression, etc.), but i worry that things go much deeper than that. i worry that there are really dark places there.
worry, worry, worry.
what is it with women worrying and hoping? i feel i have such little control over the situation - either i take it, and him, the way it is, or i leave.
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Tuesday, July 08, 2003
so much has happened since i last wrote. it's hard to tease out all the separate story lines. but i will try.
my grandmother died on june 15th, father's day. i had gone up to see her the day before, to say goodbye. my family and i went to the nursing home to see her, i held her hand. she squeezed my hand, but that was all. my mother said she smiled when i kissed her goodbye. then the next morning at 5:30 am we got the call that she had died. she had been getting morphine every two hours for pain -- since she was refusing food and drink the muscles cramp -- so she died between 3 and 5 in the morning.
i had taken a sleeping pill the night before, just in case. it was an ambien i'd gotten off the internet. when the call came i was still groggy, the pill was strong, but i knew my father wanted someone to go with him for the final goodbye. my mother was getting back into bed, so i knew it was me. i put on my clothes, and got in the car.
later i realized that the only dead people i've seen have been taken care of, prettied up, by the funeral home. when i saw my grandmother - or what was left of her - i almost fainted. it didn't look like her at all; it was so clear that she was gone. it was almost as if she had slipped off her clothes and left them in a wrinkled heap. she was lying on her back, eyes open, her mouth open. her skin was white as clay, and hung off her bones like a sheet. my father kissed her cheek.
my father and i sat together on a bench outside the nursing home, waiting for the other family members. he said "that experience could almost make you get religion."
through and around all this was scott refusing to come with me. i needed him. he said afterwards that he didn't realized how important it was to me. he's not close at all with his grandparents, he said they've always been annoying old people that he had to go visit. i felt he let me down immeasurably. i didn't know what to do about it, and i still don't. i decided not to rock the boat because we had planned to go away to maine together for a week....
and so we did. and it was really fun and relaxing. we didnt' really *do* anything... just walked on the beach, napped, and ate a lot. a perfect vacation, really. we stayed at the ocean house, an old, shabbily grand hotel right on the beach. we were almost completely alone there for the first three nights, before the july fourth crowd started to arrive.
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my grandmother died on june 15th, father's day. i had gone up to see her the day before, to say goodbye. my family and i went to the nursing home to see her, i held her hand. she squeezed my hand, but that was all. my mother said she smiled when i kissed her goodbye. then the next morning at 5:30 am we got the call that she had died. she had been getting morphine every two hours for pain -- since she was refusing food and drink the muscles cramp -- so she died between 3 and 5 in the morning.
i had taken a sleeping pill the night before, just in case. it was an ambien i'd gotten off the internet. when the call came i was still groggy, the pill was strong, but i knew my father wanted someone to go with him for the final goodbye. my mother was getting back into bed, so i knew it was me. i put on my clothes, and got in the car.
later i realized that the only dead people i've seen have been taken care of, prettied up, by the funeral home. when i saw my grandmother - or what was left of her - i almost fainted. it didn't look like her at all; it was so clear that she was gone. it was almost as if she had slipped off her clothes and left them in a wrinkled heap. she was lying on her back, eyes open, her mouth open. her skin was white as clay, and hung off her bones like a sheet. my father kissed her cheek.
my father and i sat together on a bench outside the nursing home, waiting for the other family members. he said "that experience could almost make you get religion."
through and around all this was scott refusing to come with me. i needed him. he said afterwards that he didn't realized how important it was to me. he's not close at all with his grandparents, he said they've always been annoying old people that he had to go visit. i felt he let me down immeasurably. i didn't know what to do about it, and i still don't. i decided not to rock the boat because we had planned to go away to maine together for a week....
and so we did. and it was really fun and relaxing. we didnt' really *do* anything... just walked on the beach, napped, and ate a lot. a perfect vacation, really. we stayed at the ocean house, an old, shabbily grand hotel right on the beach. we were almost completely alone there for the first three nights, before the july fourth crowd started to arrive.
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