Morning. Martine. Hard-on. Got up and went straight to the bathroom.
‘Your bladder must be exploding.’ He said to me.
‘Not really, but I’d rather not fuck on a full bladder.’
‘Who says I’m going to fuck you?’
I look at him like he’s mad. I did fuck him, it did feel good, but it really hurt too. He’d done me sore the night before as it was. As he tied the little rubber sack, I lie down spread eagled on the bed in a parody of extreme exhaustion, fanning my fanny.
‘God-damn it’s on fire.’
‘That’s precisely why I had decided not to come on to you earlier. But what man can refuse...?’
‘Definitely not you.’
***
The past couple of days have been incredibly emotionally draining, and all these damn men can be real egoistic bitches sometimes. Starting with Ethan, who called me up at 7 in the morning yesterday, asking me if I still loved him. The truth is, I’ve been incredibly confused for the past week or so, and at 7 in the morning, the performance enhancing pills would have just started to kick in (I run at dawn these days) so I’d been extra irritable and very inconsiderate. He sounded completely despondent, and was crying. I felt like the guiltiest woman on earth, and very cornered. I’ve believed in this relationship for so long I don’t know anymore why it’s still there, even though I’ve already stopped feeling for him.
Is there someone else? No one, to be honest, or many other people. Either or. I thought about it long and hard, and placed myself in different frames of mind throughout the day. One moment, he’s still my constant, the next, he’s not there, and the truth is, I felt a lot better with him being not there. Élan was talking about it the first time I had met him, but I wasn’t really listening because I’d still been completely in love then. Anyway, I thought it a good idea to give him a call and ask him what he thought. He had been very nice the whole week to me anyway, messaging me all the time and asking me how I was doing. That guy is one funny nutter. I’ve never known a guy I could have adequately called a jerk, but this dude meets it, and it’s not his fault. It’s never a guys fault when he’s a jerk, and someone that can admit the fact that women have all the power cannot possibly be a jerk out of his own accord.
He asked me how my day was and I told him I sort of broke up with Ethan, but I’m still just really confused about it all. He called me up and told me to stop being stupid.
‘Come on! I thought you were a tough girl. You have to make a decision, you either love him still, or you don’t. And in this case, assuredly, you do not. Do you still feel for him, or you don’t.’ He demanded out of me.
‘I suppose you are right. I don’t’
‘Yeah bitch, don’t go staying on out of pity or whatever, imagine yourself in his shoes, what would you rather? Anyway, when anyone puts on the you don’t love me anymore act, you’re doomed to not love them. Rejection darling, is desire in disguise.’
‘It’s a fucking catch-22 then. You’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t. Either way, we’re not going to love each other fairly.’
‘So it is. Until you settle down, and you will know, for fucking sure who, when you finally decide to. You’re still way too young to be bothered about something like that. I’ll be fucking around till I’m 56, I bet.’
It was there and then I decided that it was over. The fact that it barely hurts to have it over, and that the only reason I feel uncomfortable about it is because something I’ve believed in for many, many months has evaporated, and any new situation will take a little bit of breaking in, I feel fine. In Before Sunrise, Ethan Hawke gave the perfect example. The relationships is pointless when you get to a point where the feelings of the other party are so completely insignificant to you.
All along, I had been planning a long holiday with him, and all of a sudden, bingo, I start to find it a drag. The truth is, I don’t feel like back-packing, I’m a lazy fuck and only want to stay in luxury hotels and live off room service and read De Sade.
Dr Seuss completely annoyed me, and I don’t know what the hell he’s playing at. We had a good time, as usual, and he was about to leave without giving me cash. He wasn’t trying to leave with out doing so, he was playing at it. Kinda like testing me; did I love him? Because that’s exactly what he said while spanking me, weird fucking shit. I have nothing against someone saying that, but to imagine I love you? I like you, for certain, it’s partially paternal transference, and partially because your money’s lovely. People would really be a lot happier if they just came to terms with the reality that there was no such thing as unconditional love. My rational behind getting paid is that, while the platonic relationship was mutual, and I’d no problem meeting him for coffee, lunch, whatever, anything more would just be difficult for me if I wasn’t being compensated in hard cash for it. Trust me, money makes a whole lot of difference. And a lot of money make you feel worth it (maybe less cheap); if you were doing weird shit like getting tied and spanked by someone you that does not incite a drop of desire.
I went on down to meet Élan at about 10, and we talked about sex –he thinks about it all the time, and I’m glad, because there’s nothing more that I like to talk or think about- and it was then he told me my stupidity in the situation concerning Ethan. His phone went off the rocker at some point in time with a bunch of weird messages from a couple of girls who were trying to snag him. He let me read them for a laugh. It’s the same old shit that turns guys off. Mr. Big is the least brutal about it, he just replies the weird, ‘thinking about you, hope to see you everyday’ bullshit with a smilie face (and nothing else) until they get the hint. The G-Spot pretty much does the same, but sometimes he gets them knocking on his door and has to tell them they really can’t share the same bed (so you get the hint girl, I don’t like you). Élan is completely brutal, but I don’t blame him.
‘Oh, loads of white girls tell me to fuck off the next morning, big deal. Asian women just gonna have to get used to it.’
I should have told him that there was some sort of virtue to be found in cultural sensitivity, but I suppose it is too much when a girl you’ve’ dated for a total of three weeks, no matter how gorgeous, thinks she’s your wife. That was the other thing we were bitching about. He thought it was pathetic of them to try and get into his pants and then proceed to tell him their whole life story (fatherless child, dying grandmother – I didn’t plan on seeing you again, but now I’m fucking sure I don’t want to see you again!) And I thought it was completely denigrating to the independence of the female species. If you think sex can be used to snag a guy, you’re stupid. Sex is part of it, but that alone is not going to do it. And besides, you may be pretty lousy in bed, and then what? And anyway, why the hell are you constantly pushing onto the guy marriage and other relevant stupidity like so.
In the past week, I’ve had a total of 3 guys tell me the girl they’re screwing are all talking about marriage. And these are all girls under 25. Look, you want stability, you’re going to have to stick to the local boys, or someone well over 40 otherwise. But the truth is, if you’re independent enough, stability is going to find you, and you’ll not want it. Because the less you want something, the more of it you’ll have. Catch-22, rejection is the best form of attraction. Clichéd, but true. Of course, there’s only so much rejection and aloofness you can inflict upon a person before he/she just says fuck off. My tolerance is very low.
Mike’s roommate texted me a couple of times before. Yes I fucked him, and no, I don’t care if I did. There’s nothing wrong with him, aside from the fact that he doesn’t care about me, and doesn’t see anything in me aside from a hot little body. I like being adored for that, but when it’s all that I end up amounting to, I’m not going to pretend he means anything, when he doesn’t deserve it. You screwed him, so what? If he treats you like shit, leave. For the love of god, it’s no big deal, the sea is inexhaustible.
Ethan said something that really annoyed me, and that was me trying to tell him I still cherished him, just because he was materially desirable. I am still insulted. Certainly I have thought about it a couple of times. He is materially desirable, but I am most certainly not subjected to it. Dr Seuss could have offered me a lot of luxuries, and I believe he had been testing me yesterday, but the fact is, I don’t care for them if the luxuries offered come under conditions that I cannot want to accept.
When I loved Ethan, all of it had been desirable, but now that it has started to feel like a trap, I’d rather not. Even if he paid for our holiday, but I would rather stay home, what was the point?
I am sad this is what it has amounted to, and I still do like him. But it’s starting to suffocate, and he is not the one. The is no, ‘The One’ for an entire life time, but at this point in time, he is not the One for the moment.
I told him there was no other person, and in a way, there isn’t. Martine isn’t ever one bit as stable as he is, but I don’t care. I will have my way, and I desire him and only him. (We’re talking about the male species here. I’m even more promiscuous with my love when it comes to women.)
xoxox
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