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School has been intensely boring. We’re mostly doing things like drawing dots and crosses and sketching hands a feet and writing cheesy melodramatic eastern European-esque porn scripts. I’ve made this weird drawing with a girl and her 1970’s Jetson’s fuck machine. It’s really quite bizarre.

Chris called me today after quite some time. I haven’t been replying his emails because I haven’t been checking my inboxes all that often these days, which is good because I’m less of a slave to my computer, bad, because you get people worried wondering that the hell’s up with you. He’s doing alright lately, dating this other girl called Candice back in the states who’s some kinda lawyer and really very smart, but not particularly fun to hang out with. But from what I hear, she’s really hot and really into him, and it’s a pity he doesn’t feel the same, but such is life. He’s a rather funny character, having given me a breakdown of his relationship with her into a few lines, while also simultaneously managing to compare that relationship with ours. He likes her 30-70 (him-her) but ups it to 40-60 after she went through a ‘significant amount of effort’ in trying to get him. I think it’s ridiculous of course, trying to measure love by percentages. What if my feelings for Richard are bigger then the pie can express; and then what? Not a fair comparison. He said our relationship was 92-8. Perhaps… you see, I never liked him romantically, it was just impossible.

He’s coming down to Asia again in a couple of days, and I thought about meeting him over the weekend somewhere near after Sydney. Bangkok or something, but of course Richard must be comfortable with it, and Chris must know I’m in love with someone else now. I think it’s better this way actually because I never really fancied him in bed, although I will admit there’s nothing lacking about him in that department. Aside from the fact that he makes me work too hard sometimes and I don’t really want to sleep with him in the first place. Which isn’t altogether an unpleasant experience for me, but you know how it is when you just rather not.

I’ve been thinking about it the whole day, the issue of fidelity on all sorts of different levels, and I realized I’ve never come to any sort of stand before. I’m used to being the second woman, the non-physically present girlfriend, the paid whore, the occasional booty call, among any number of other things, but never a real girlfriend. And it really is great, although sometimes thinking about it gets me feeling really frightened because it has been such a long time. But as according to CS Lewis, the only place outside Heaven where you can be truly safe from all the dangers and perturbations of love is Hell, so better to love then not! And because I’m so self-aware now, I find it impossible I’ve found someone I like as much as R, who happens to like me back so much I can’t believe it. I mean, this kinda thing just doesn’t happen. But I would seem that sometimes it does. I like living with him, and it doesn’t bore me. There’s always such a sense of life a kid of outward-ness about the relationship that I really enjoy, and I don’t feel trapped or repressed or like I have to hide anything.

The funny thing is, I’m rather undecided as to how I would feel if R were to have to leave the country for a few days with another woman. I would miss him being around, that’s for sure, but would I really be affected badly if I knew he could sleep with her and maybe would. I don’t think so because it has happened to me before, and somehow, I’m just… not made with a jealous constitution. But then it isn’t fair is it. Because he probably is, and if I did meet Chris, I’d make sure he didn’t expect me to sleep with him (and he probably wouldn’t because he likes me much more beyond sex), but still. He told me once that I should treat other people the way I’d like to be treated. But sometimes that just doesn’t work you know. Because I’m so much more tolerant. Anyway.

I’ve often wondered about why people keep on emailing me saying I’m full of ‘literary bullshit’ just because I allude to some of the things I’ve read. I suppose they feel really threatened because I’m not talking on grounds they can completely understand because they don’t read, and feel the need to extol the fact that they don’t, because that makes them more real. Perhaps. But it also makes them more stupid, far less experienced and clearly a great deal less tolerant. It doesn’t really matter I suppose.

xoxox