I purposely fucked up today. I woke up, looked at my phone, a minute before there was a phone call coming in that I should have answered (I don’t know who it was), and rolled over and slept, not even well, for 3 more hours. Now, I’m rushed getting through my day, and I will not be ready for the boy when he gets here…
I still want to write here. My brain is mush, shrouded in shame from sleep (I have to stop this), and so I don’t see how I can do anything else. Hopefully the caffeine kicks in, maybe I’ll skip the linking on the second cup and actually do things. This weekend is too intense, every weekend is. I wonder how people do it, I wonder how the boy does it.
The minute this gets to feel like work for me, we’re through.Me to the boy, during a very unproductive (I almost wrote unpredictive) conversation. I guess we’re through, because he is too much work.
I’m split in two directions. I had dreams last night, and they were informative. Then I woke up and saw a text from my Brother about my Father being an asshole, and I want to talk about that. However, my dreams aren’t always as telling, and my Father is always an asshole.
I accidentally left my phone in the other room when I took my coffee into the office to write, and I purposely have not gotten up to get it.
I was in a house, which looked like the little school house outside the monastery where I went to kindergarten. My Father’s family, many of our cousins, were in the school house, while my Mother’s family lived up the path at the huge brick convent.
For some reason, my college ex1 (I love thinking of exes that aren’t my ex) was there. He had cheated on me, and while that was an established fact for us in college, at this time it felt like a new discovery. I flew into a rage, somehow burst a pipe. My Mother’s family, specifically her favorite cousin, came down the hill to see what was going on, as did one of my Father’s craziest cousins. He came up the path, and we were all enraged at him, sympathetic to my side.
Later that night, some kids from my college2 were in the living room area of the nun’s house, the school house. We were watching a movie, but my ex, who was being punished in our social circle, was sitting in a glass tank perhaps filled halfway with water, in the back of the room.
I had some fairly inconsequential conversations with a younger girl (she was an amalgam of a girl I had known in highschool, and one in college, both younger than I was at each time) about whether or not I could make it to the store to buy cigarettes, should I bum one, etc.
I went to go talk to my ex, who was incidentally was a notorious chain smoker, like a true Russian. I was so angry, but instead I apologized, with him looking down on me from the tank. I apologized that he was being treated like this for cheating on me, as I also had cheated on him, often. So very often, and with many people. Why was he being hated on (for lack of a better term), whereas I always get off4 (for lack of a better term)?
I don’t remember him saying anything except that it was ok. He clearly liked me.
I said that somewhere, somehow, this all got screwed up, and we obviously weren’t meant to be together, but somehow we had skipped over the friend part,5 and maybe we could be friends. He agreed, and seemed truly grateful.1. Probably because he was Russian, and I fucked a Russian yesterday. The accent, the eyes. 2. I am slowly building a fake college campus landscape in my dreams, from one dream to the next. Although the layout of last night’s dream indicated that I was the same distance from the gas station as I am here, now in this apartment. 3. I remember how much taller he was than me. 4. I wonder if I even do, I guess it depends on who tells the story. 5. It is true, we were fucking within 2 hours of meeting each other, as per the Freshman Olympics guidelines. I don’t know if I knew his name, even.
I rushed so fast through this dream, how did I ever think that I could sum up 10 hours of sleep into one cup of coffee. Plus I’m rushing through the coffee.
There’s two directions I could go. In my dream, I feel like this is how I would feel, perhaps, if the boy cheated on me. He is not ready for the relationship I want, though he wants to be, just like my college ex. I am unfair, making demands that I will not keep – from their perspective. In my mind, it’s different, but I seem to always be unable to fully explain why, because they do not understand.
Yet, is it different? <=== I guess I picked a direction. I’ll remind myself to dig up my college ex’s phone number again and call him, although the phone works both ways and he never does.
It is different, or it should be in my opinion. However, with these men (I mean boys) it is not. A relationship should be supportive and giving. An affair is selfish, and work (yes I’m saying it) is demanding. However, the boy is selfish and demanding, and so maybe he is not that different from my clients.
Long pause, and a long sip of my already cold coffee.
This is beyond feeling like work, I work so much harder for the boy than I do my clients. I have to give him a chance to correct this, I have to correct this, but I don’t know how.
I am sure he’s going to cheat on me.
I can see why.