I glanced at a blog just now that had a six word memoir. It’s a challenge going around and I’d like to take the opportunity to take it on. I know for a fact that one of my six words needs to be “creative.” Hers was “many mistakes later I am laughing,” which is very clever, so I want to think of something really clever too.
Imaginative creativity applied to idealism leads to disappointment... But that’s too long. Idealistic creativity manifests deep dissatisfaction... But that is five words. I am crying idealistic tears of creativity. Drat, that’s seven words and I really like that one. Oh! I know!
I’m crying idealistic tears of creativity!
That’s my six word memoir. But, there are still so many things I wish to creep into it... I’m weeping in idealistic love and ingenuity. That is seven words, but I’d really like to actually say “idealistic love” now that I think about it, because so much of my life is centered around my ideals for love even though so much of my life is also centered around my creative whims.
“Whimsical creativity and idealistic love battle!”
I like that one too, but that one sounds like a phrase and not a memoir. I’m centered in dissatisfied idealistic love...
Okay, I’m not sure which I like best anymore. You knew I couldn’t write just one! Which probably defeats the whole purpose...
I’m crying idealistic tears of creativity.
Whimsical creativity and idealistic love battle.
I’m centered in dissatisfied idealistic love.
Idealist is understating my imaginative nature.
I could probably roll these out for days now that I’ve begun. It’s really quite addictive. I invite you all to try to come up with your own now, and do leave them in my notes or guest book once you’ve thought of them.
I feel sick to my stomach.
I must be missing something here... What on earth am I doing wrong? I feel like the more things I do “right” the more wrong I am. I’ve been having sex with Crusifer everyday just like he wanted, I even woke him up to morning sex. I dressed up the way he likes when we went grocery shopping. I gave him plenty of affection. I held him all night. I asked what he wanted to do. I offered to braid his hair, which he refused. I offered sex with him again, and he refused. I feel so rejected. I feel invisible. I keep touching his hair and hugging him and he’s not pushing me away but it’s as though I’m not even there...
I told him that I wanted to feel close to him. I kissed him the way he says makes him “melt” and even that didn’t do anything. I feel completely helpless. I could be asleep or reading my book right now and it wouldn’t make a difference to him and it’s burning me up. This is so stupid! I feel like it’s all my fault. I must have said something or done something... He’s never like this without a reason, although sometimes he himself doesn’t even know what it is...
I want to cry, and scream and throw a fit, but that would make me feel terribly immature and it probably wouldn’t help at all. When he ignores me like this I feel like anything I do is inconsequential. Like if I were to clean the entire room he probably wouldn’t notice... Heck, that’s a good idea... What would he do if I just began cleaning obsessively? Probably nothing...
I don’t understand how last night he was so happy, so loving, so full of kisses and consideration for me, and how I do all the same things he likes so much today and I’m nobody! It doesn’t even make any sense... I don’t feel like doing a god damned thing. I did want to watch a movie with him. I was hungry. I did want to play Pharaoh while he played Gears of War, I did want to work on reformatting all the card-files for the board game (which I accidently made in a low resolution... *cries*)... I even wanted to fuck him. I was content to braid his hair. I would have done anything he pleased, but since he turned down me doing anything now I don’t want to do anything...
I measure myself in what he wants from me. The more he wants from me (and appreciates from me) the more I’m worth. When he doesn’t want or appreciate anything of me, then I am nothing. At least I can understand that, but I’ll be damned if I can change it.
(Mentally I’m punching my monitor and feeling the glass break on my knuckles and watching the glass fly around and my knuckles are bleeding down my arm... I’m opening the window and watching to see if Crusifer notices. I burst into tears... I hang myself part way out the window, fall, fall... Darkness... No one is with me... Would I ever do such ridiculous things? No. That’s why I’m sitting here writing, dry-eyed and fidgeting like mad.)
I suppose I’m going to start cleaning now. I shall start with the fridge. It needs cleaning pretty bad.
Interesting. It’s been exactly one hour.
In that hour I washed out the fridge throughly, took out the trash, put away the laundry, cleaned up the clothing area in general (put all dirty clothes in laundry and all left-out clothing that was still clean away), fixed our craft table, rinsed the sink, took some things out to the compost, took a couple dishes down to the kitchen and washed my face while I was there, straightened up the craft-table area next to the bed, put away the water bottles and washed off the top of our snack-station on wheels...
In this time I also touched Crusifer twice to scratch his head and have spoken to him about three time. I’ve received no response, verbal, physical or even a glance. I’m so confused as to what he could be upset about. I know for a fact that if I ask that he will claim nothing is wrong. Oh yeah? Then why is it then he only doesn’t acknowledge me when he’s upset about something? Like, is that supposed to be a coincidence?
I wonder if this has to do with drinking. Retarded as that sounds... Friday he worked overtime and hung out with “barbie gone emo” afterwards with her “fine as hell” friends and got home at 4:00am rather blazed. On Saturday his cousins were in town so he hung out with them, gave on of his broke-ass nigga cousins $40, drank his ass off, got home at five o’clock in the morning and passed out. I couldn’t sleep so I went for an early-morning bike ride Sunday morning around six o’clock in the morning.
Sunday I allowed him to drink, grudgingly because I want him to decide that he doesn’t need it in his life once and for all on his own. He didn’t do anything “not nice” on Sunday, so I noted that if he asked next Sunday I’d allow it again. Monday I realized my period was going thin and decided to break the sex-fast early because I realized that I wanted it almost as much as he, and he was delighted. Tuesday, (yesterday) though he said it wasn’t necessary I had sex with him again, keeping to my word about every single day that I’m able...
(I need to learn to spell necessary. I spell it wrong every time and need to correct it. Ne Cess Ary... Ne Cess Ary... Ne Cess Ary! Necessary... Now, without looking... Necessary...! Yeah!)
And then, felling inspired, at six o’clock in the morning I woke him up to riding him, to his delight. We both were well satisfied and went to sleep afterwards. We get up this morning, and at first he’s all nice to me, and affectionate as he has been... And then we go to get groceries, and we hurried because Mom needed to car to pick up Dad so we had to be back before four o’clock. He was fine on the way there in the car I think... Though if I think back he seemed a little agitated then though I didn’t pay much mind...
In the grocery store he wasn’t as affectionate as usual... Then in the check-out lane as I’m trying persistently to get him to pay attention to me (I’m out in public in lingerie for goodness sakes, he could at least pay me some mind) and he asks me, “Can I get a couple beers today?”
I thought for a moment and I said, “but it Wednesday...” I said, a little uneasy by him asking again so soon. “But I’ll be good,” he said. I thought about that doubtfully since he was paying more attention to the magazines than me. “Yeah, but that would make three times in only four days...”
He frowned, “How is that?”
I sighed, “Friday you got home at 4:00am, Saturday you drank and got home at 5:00am, and Sunday I allowed you to drink... Can’t you at least wait until next Sunday?”
“How about I don’t drink Sunday then?”
I looked at him, angrily. Come to think of it, he’s barely spoken a word to me since. We road in silence most of the way home. On the way into the house I kissed him, and he said, “come on, let’s go,” instead of kissing me back. I was the one holding a bag of groceries when I leaned to kiss him, but he was empty-handed and didn’t reach for me at all. When we got upstairs I went to hug him and give him a kiss again, thinking surely now that we’re home and in our room he’ll stop being so distant, and I was completely wrong because he said, “It’s hot, I’m trying to take my clothes off.”
Disgruntled I waited for him to take off his clothes and then pulled him to the bed and pulled him down on top of me and kissed him again the way that he says he likes so much... I never used to kiss so much before him, nor did I ever do the things I do with him like sucking on the lips, and using my tongue in such intricate and deliberate movements... Nothing was working. He kissed back, in the most empty-hearted way and still didn’t touch me despite all of my touching of him.
At this point I’m completely desperate for affection so I’m grinding on him, and kissing him deeply and moaning... (Clearly that’s a sexual invitation!) And he pulls away and starts playing with his hair. Distressed, I asked, “Don’t you want me?”
“Want you how? You could mean a zillion different things by that!”
I rolled my eyes, “I clearly want to have sex with you. Why don’t you want me?”
“Maybe later,” he says.
At that point I’m on the verge of rage, but I turn around my approach and start touching his hair (since that is what he is doing) and then I go to braid it, since he requested that I braid his hair today. He said, “no don’t braid it.”
“Why not?” I asked, feeling worse and worse by the moment.
“I don’t want to walk around with my hair half-braiding looking stupid all day.”
I swallowed my anger yet again. (I probably should explain that I’m no good at braiding hair, but a few days ago I braided some of his hair for the fun of it, just to be taken out again in the morning, and his hair curled up in a way that he liked after it was taken out so I’ve been braiding it every night or so as far as I could get before my fingers hurt from the process. He says he enjoys how it feels when I do it and that he likes how it looks when he pulls it out, and it’s good practice and exercise for me.)
He doesn’t want sex, he doesn’t want to be groomed, he doesn’t want affection, he doesn’t want attention, and he also doesn’t want to give anything to me. What do you do with a person who won’t give or receive! And even now, at five o’clock now he’s sitting next to me, ignoring me entirely digitally painting. That’s all well and good that he is digitally painting, but come on. It’s been twelve hours since he last paid me mind at five in the morning when we had sex.
I’m beginning to analyze everything I can looking for an answer... Did I not thank him for the cup of tea he made me? I thought I said something appreciative of it. Is he this upset because he’s not drinking right now? Would he ignore me just because he’s not drinking! It makes me so angry and so desperate. I want to go buy him a goddamned drink so he’ll pay attention to me and I also want to smack him for being so silly!
I’m sitting here in this bran-new lingerie dress that is completely transparent with a transparent lace bra that he insisted I have when he saw it at Target, and I’ve been in it since I first woke. I even cleaned wearing it, and walked around Wegmans in it, and I’m still fucking invisible! It makes me so angry I could just burst.
I feel like if only I could do something more, or if only I said or did something differently today then he’d notice me. I’m so sick of being ignored. The rest of the world already ignores me for my age, or my sex, or my race, or my background. The last thing I need is for the center of my world to ignore me too!
It’s not bloody fair at all! I do anything he asks and all I want is some god damned affection and attention and I’ll be bloody damned if I ever get it for more than a couple hours here and there... I feel like half the time we touch each other is during sex, maybe more. I hate being nothing but a damned sex object. $60 groceries today, and sometimes they’re $100 a week, and now and then I get new lingerie and I give out all the services he wants! What am I? A cheap fucking whore?
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