Women Can Never Tell... Perhaps!

If a guy's a bastard when they’re in love.

True/False…?

I’ve gotten so many comments with regard to my relationship with Martine, and most of them go along the lines of ‘you deserve better’. But the thing is, better is not always better. It’s the way I’m being treated that makes me feel good about it all. And the truth is, I do write to make myself sound something of a Cordelia-like… sometimes. I’m not lying of course, I’m just not telling everything, mostly because I simply cannot write everything due to time constraints, the nature of writing and the fact that I have to keep somethings secret.

Then again, I maybe I really am blind.

But I honestly think not. He thinks about me often, I’m sure. For whatever strange reason, he’s purchased tickets to a couple of concerts and given all of them to me because he knows I’d enjoy going. He’d go with me if Liz wasn’t around… I think. I find it all rather romantic in a secret love affair sort of way, and a little sad too that I’ve attended a total of 4 concerts on my own, under his sponsored suggestion.

There was also this rather odd thing that happened a couple of weeks back where he had to have me leave at dinner time because Liz would be calling for a long while to talk about why do you not want to marry me. I was hungry and asked him to pay for my dinner. I don’t know why I did that, it wasn’t that I was not capable of paying for my own food, I just felt like letting him pay for it. He asked me what I’d like to have and gave me the money, then proceeded to sound rather guilty for not having taken me out to dinner for such a long time and said we’d do the whole dinner/dancing thing someday soon.

After I did that, I realized I’d never have a problem asking him for things. I asked him to take me back to Europe just before summer ended, if I was still in the country, and he basically agreed –if he was going down, why not.

The other thing that makes him not a bastard (although looking at the way he treats me as a lover, he should be, or so many people think; but not me) is how he treats other people. He doesn’t do me injustice because he’s selfish, I don’t think. The problem that exists lies with Liz, and he can’t bear to hurt her. She knows about me of course, not exactly, but she’d asked him about it several times, and I have still yet to find out whether he denied it or made up a story.

Somehow, It’s allright if I’m being done wrong if the intention is not borne out of self-centeredness. He’s to choose between hurting her or upsetting me. I’ve got a life outside him, and I am most certainly not dependant in any way, he’d never break up with her for me, I know it, but he’ll do it because it’s got to be done sooner or later. Lengthening it would just make life harder for everyone when it’s over.

Someone I’ve been seeing for the past week since SF (we’ve not slept together, I’ve simply been bumming around in his apartment, and he’s already given me the key under the strongest suspicion that I’m not a psychopath) asked me if I’d like this thing with M to work long term. May-be it will, may-be it won’t. First off, all my being is bent on leaving the country, he may or may not move to where I’ll be in the next couple of years, who’s to know? And secondly, I love being around with him, I love this relationship I have with him, but I’m not going to be bothered to try and make things work. Or try to hard. As long as he wants it, I’ll put a great deal of effort and feeling into it. The moment he doesn’t, then I won’t, because that defeats the purpose of what it’s supposed to be in the first place. It’s not about making it work, it’s about wanting it to carry on working.

I’m crazy about him. I’ve not felt so comfortable with any individual, and there is no one that can want to fuck me the instant I’m over and never make me feel like an object. I can’t explain how he does it, he’s urgent about making love to me, yet not. He’d want to, but will always spare sometime before to make tea, or to have a decent conversation, or to read the summary of whatever that is the book of the day in my bag. He knows I have a life outside him, and doesn’t mind hearing about it. And he’d still accept me for what I am and desire me, and I find that amazing. I suppose he knows I’m crazier about him more then I can be crazy about anyone else, and it’s easy to listen to all the stories and think, ah but she’s mine still. Kinda thing. I know I feel like that about him (there are more clockwork wound women after his blood apart from Liz).

And you know what, all those things matter, but their all arguable. I’m nuts about him, course I’m blind. But he’s the first person I’d slept with as a real person, as a complete individual, since the whole promiscuity thing started sometime back late 2 years ago. I say anything I want to around him, send him the silliest drawings, scribble stuff on the sides of his notebooks (the ones I know that will be in the office when Liz comes by). I don’t expect anything from him, not a lifestyle, not a risqué love affair, nothing. I don’t need him, and maybe because of that, I do. If he left, I’d write a few sad emails and send him a few paintings, but I wouldn’t be hysterical about it.

Then again, I’m nearly never hysterical about anything.

xoxox