She troubles me because of the way I want her so. In fact, right now as I write this I realize how distant she is from me and yet how persistent is my desire.
Let me explain this situation, just a little. Our first encounter was during the loneliest of all summers. 2003. I was sleeping with another ex-girlfriend after having been dumped by the woman I loved, at the height of the most serious depression I'd ever experienced. She was a diminutive Puerto Rican/Korean girl who loved to fuck. Had a kid in fact. That's an episode. And so naturally after being dumped by, let's say her name is K, I to to L for attention. My ego had been destroyed. I had lost all confidence in myself, such that, I knew no real purpose to life. I took to reading Murakami and watching "Mishima" that summer--those were formative experiences. At any rate, one night with L, I met R.
Our pathes didn't really cross again until sometime just before or after I got out of the hospital. It was only a week trip. And mind not the nonchalance--the occasion for recognition just hasn't struck. In another mood, I can say more with a tone befitting. But now, I am all of wasted desire, misdirected. We started spending time together. She was very hesitant at first, and then things seemed to happen. We started spending all of our time together. And, despite my condition, melancholia with a dose of mania, I fell in love with her.
I say despite and not because of. Perhaps it is because of this moment of wounded love--her not agreeing to come and bed me tonight--or lust, but I say otherwise. I cannot say about now and the motivations behind this desire, but I can say about then. And it was so clear to me how much I needed her. I recall in particular, as we drove to visit my parents, how we stopped and she gave me a christmas present: a book on Anselm Kiefer. I was so happy. Delighted in fact. It was such a wonderful gift. And I keep it on top of my dictionaries, unread.
But I did love her. And so. Otherwise, why would I have put up with the terror that we shared together. Twice the police were called. Once by me. This was more than a year later. Definitions of love notwithstanding. Despite all this, I am tempted to sing her praises here. And perhaps partially because I almost gave her the address of this site--something I've passed on to no one. But she knows everything. There is nothing I have to hide with her. She knows all of the truth.
last week, when i started this post, she sent me an email, trying to remind me of her sexual dominance over me. telling me how she'd gone down on a man she just met. so i spend hours on the phone trying to get her to come join me for the night, promising the same. these negotiations were fruitless, and then exasperated, i sent her this:
I'm still sitting here wondering why this happens. I've wasted most of a night thinking about you. Which is not to say in any way that you are a waste of my time. Clearly I don't think so (although I did have other things to do tonight). And I don't know why I feel so rotten. I was just in the bathroom and I look in the mirror and I think about the way you might see me and I feel attractive, even sexy, and I haven't felt that way in a long time. And I want that again.
Because it's not that way with ----. I mean, there are moments of sexual desire, clearly, but it has nothing to do with those emotions I feel when I think about sleeping with you. And so it's not merely lust. Some desire to have you sucking on my cock rather than some anonymous stranger. Rather, it's about how I felt about msyelf when I was in bed with you, or with you in general. Even at the cafe, I think, that one afternoon this summer. I felt all fo the sudden like I was someone, because I was with you and because I knew you were drawn to me.
Perhaps this is too what you like from me, although you're strong enough not to give into these feelings? It's just that, when I'm with ----, I never need to feel sexy. Ever. I mean, there are times when I feel like I look better than others, but in general, all of that internal confidence which comes over me when I'm with you, when there's a chance soemthing could happen, all of that is absent. Perhaps these are feelings we are better without. But I don't know . I can't convince myself of that. I want to feel that way again. I mean, when I was with you, I forgot about everything. Everything seemed put into a place where it was manageable.
This will sound weird, but you really made me feel like I was a man. Like I was with a woman that I could be proud of. Come talk to this hot sexy bitch that is all mine. That is in love with me ... and that's what it comes down to. That with ----, I don't feel like I have a trophy. I mean, she's really great, really. But a lot of the things that make her great, are not visible.
With you, everything that your body is, your vicious smile and your scent, all of that is in turn backed up by this complex person who is fascinating, enlightening. I suppose that was part of the mystery. Why would you have ever wanted someone like me?
I felt like I had cheated the world. Fooled them. Does any of this make sense?
moi
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