My boyfriend is leaving right now with my car keys to my mom’s car. He’s going to deposit some money, but he won’t tell me how much, or for what. I suspect he’s buying me a ring or something symbolic of that sort. I hope so, I might be disappointed if I find out it had nothing to do with me and that he just wouldn’t tell me for rash or vain reasons.
I’d say over all things are still going smoothly. And I’m still obsessed with playing Saga online. If anyone wants a referral to play online with me, let me know.
I grew up as an only child, so you’d think I’d love being alone. And I guess I do to an extent. But I have this habit of latching onto one person, and then wanting them there all the time. Jeremy could put up with it for the better part of the time, but we had a great deal of arguments about me always being on him. Travanti couldn’t stand it, and constantly complained about me putting “my weight” on him. But My boyfriend has never been like that. He’s been so accepting of affection, so giving of his affection, so willing to be around me all the time. He used to never get tired of talking to me.
I remember him saying, “Does it ever get boring being around you?” or something along those lines. And I told him how I felt the same way. But that was the second month into our relationship after all, so it’s no use comparing things now to how they were then. Because this is a year and two months into our relationship. I can’t expect him to still want to be all over me all the time...
But wait, what am I saying?
My boyfriend just hasn’t been as affectionate because he’s not getting laid because I’m still recovering from my yeast infection. And I’m only being so needy because he’s not fucking me (because I’m still recovering from my yeast infection). What a silly, silly girl I can be.
So I can’t sleep. I can’t sleep at all. My boyfriend is really hurting me right now. He won’t listen to me. He’s been drinking, so I shouldn’t be surprised. He thinks I write for the online attention. He thinks I’m an attention whore... He doesn’t understand that I need to write like he needs to draw. It’s my form of creation, this is my self expression. This is my passion.
It’s just like Isadora says towards the end of “Fear of Flying” – She missed her typewriter more than her fucked up marriage. She wanted to go home to have custody of the typewriter. She compares it to having custody of the kids. Later on, either in that chapter or the next she pulls out her written journal and she talks about how much it means to her, about how she can’t wait to leave somewhere to come home and commit it to writing. She writes in ink because it’s permanent unlike pencils.
This is my permanence. This is what will be left of my pride, my love, my lust, my thoughts, my needs, my wants, my complaints, my hungers, my desires, my goals, aspirations, wishes, and insanity when I’m gone. This is the real me. This me is complete with it’s imperfections. My writing remembers more than I do. It watches my growth in a way that I can’t.
My writing is myself listening to myself. I’m conversating with myself. I’m thinking out loud. I’m sorting things out. I’m logic-ing my way into loving myself for myself by writing. Writing makes me feel good about myself.
“Every time I’m mad I run to my journal,” he yells at me across the room from the bed. It’s true. I did it with Travanti, and I did it with Jeremy. I did it with my parents before then. I’ve been doing it since I was a young child. Before Kasheef told me about diaryland I wrote.
I am one with myself when I write. My mind clears, the headache clears, and I become understanding of myself. I open myself to myself. I forgive myself. How could I do those things without writing?
I hate that he won’t listen and understand me right now, but because he won’t, I can’t just sit there and steam. I don’t want to break down and cry. I don’t want to lay there trapped within my fury. I don’t want to scream at him. I’m tired of saying “Don’t tell me how I feel!”
He tells me that I think I’m better than everyone. I told him that I don’t think I’m any better than my Mom, or him, or El or Tina, or my Dad or Aunt Mary. Sure I’m better at certain things, and don’t I have a right to be proud of those things which I have? Don’t I have a right to have pride in myself? I’d feel like shit without being proud of myself. I’d sink into a depression, and I’d cry, and I’d be bitter, and slowly but surely I’d have less and less to be proud of.
I just want to die when he yells at me. My head throbs just recalling it. The eerie almost-silent room is deafening to my ears. The humming of his computer, my computer and the fridge. His plaintive kicking. He’s awake and I’m not with him. Well, gosh-gee, where was he from 11:00pm to 1:30am when he got home? He was with Dana and other friends. He was drinking two beers and getting hit on by some hot chick. I was sitting here playing Saga online. He came home, and he kept asking me, “Can we fuck? Can I eat you out?”
“No. And no.” We’ve been through this. I’m still recovering from the yeast infection and I’d like it to heal. He asks again, and again, and again, and again. Finally the sixth time he says “Can I suck your dick,” and for the hell of it I say yes. He eats me out, and I’m not enjoying it because he’s tipsy and he’s not doing it the way he normally would, and on top of that I’m still highly annoyed with him. I feel bad for agreeing for the purpose of shutting him up. I was afraid he might try to fuck me once he got me wet but he didn’t.
So obviously I didn’t cum, and he gave up eventually, and then shortly thereafter he passed out. I stayed wide awake. I read two chapters from “Fear of Flying” towards the end of the book. A very good two chapters I might add. I then drew on a picture I’ve been working on for about a week. Then at about 3:00am I started writing in a notebook until 3:30am. But still I couldn’t sleep. Him falling asleep before me invariably does this to me.
I tried anyway. I turned of the light and held him for a while. I rolled over and held Silent for a while. Then I took out my vibrator and had a shitty orgasm that only made me sleepy for about two minutes. Then at about 4:30am My boyfriend starting stirring, who knows why.
He woke up at 4:45am and starting asking to fuck me again. So then he started asking about fucking other girls again. I explained to him (again) that my feelings towards that have changed, and (again) I explained why. The topic moved from marriage and kids. We talked about pregnancy and child birth, and that’s when the argument started getting heated for some reason.
I’m not even sure why. We had a heated argument about sex during pregnancy, about childbirth, about arrogance and pride, about being real and being fake, about threatening someone in a way that Travanti would (which he assumed I was doing, but I wasn’t.) He kept saying “whatever” and playfully hitting me in such a way that basically means “whatever” in our own language. He kept telling me I wasn’t telling the truth about how I felt. I couldn’t take it anymore and here I am now at 6:08am in the morning.
This is nuts, he woke up to me giving him kisses and affection and then tries to tell me I’m not real, and that I lie about how I feel... In a nutshell. He made a lot of good points but what was driving me nuts is that every time I agreed with him he told me that I didn’t really agree. What kind of bull shit is that? Basically accusing me of patronizing him though he never used those words.
Shit between him and I has been really fucked up since I this yeast infection. Not being able to have sex with him makes everything fucked up and that worries me. Does he really love me for me? Or does ‘me for me’ exclusively include my sex?
Friday, March 21th 2008 at 11:51pm
I have not been writing much. I’m content with that. I’m really into playing Saga right now, and I’m enjoying being so in to something like I have not been in so long.
I’ve been thinking about turning my writings into a novel about myself written as fiction, with different names and such. Since I’d be working on it as a novel, I wouldn’t post it as entries in the hopes of publishing it, but instead my entries would be mostly short excerpts of the draft version. I feel the need to take my writing in a new direction, and I’m considering taking Erica Jong’s lead.
Lately I’ve been writing more in the Saga forums than anywhere else. It’s really quite astounding how interests can change so quickly.
No comments:
Post a Comment