I was actually making some food when there was a loud knock and Cousin Harold came thumping in.

“That for me?”
“No, Harold. That for me.”

Kind of reminded me of my non-english speaking aunt who would call asking for my Dad. I’d pick up the phone and there’d be a, “Dat Joe?”
First time I wondered who the fuck this is. Some retard off the street selling jam for feet or ice for freezers, something useful and predatory.
I said, “What?”
“Dat Joe?”
Initially, I’d say just a minute and get my father. But it got to the point where I’d say to my father, Dat Joe is on the phone. He’d just sort of laugh and say, “Could speak better of your relatives.”
I thought she’s about as much my relative as the garden squash, and has the same linguistic capabilities.
Next time she called, there was the usual, “Dat Joe”?
So I said, “No, Dat Dean.”
“Dat Joe?”
“No, Dat Dean. Dat Joe not here.”
Click.
Oh well, so much for me bettering the planet through my human relations’ skills.

I was brought out of my reveries by a vaguely annoying sound that reminded me of a WW2 bomb dropping in a black and white film.
Harold stood there grinning at me.
“Sorry, had cabbage for lunch.”
All the wild cats on the porch and standing on the windowsills outside promptly rolled over and ran off.
“Must have a date, eh Harold?”

“I’d swear you’re psychic. Yes! I have to meet this honey down the street at Bumpsies in half an hour and I thought I’d better get some tips from the master.”
“Hey Harold, what’d the leper say to the prostitute? Keep the tip – so sorry, Harold, ran out of tips. Besides, you can pick your own off the drugstore shelf for about $5.”
“C’mon….”
“Harold, I do some writing, but I’m hardly one to advise you when it comes to women.”
“Yes, you can, Dean. Your father has told me about all the women you’ve had come around.”
“Harold, they were just errant Jehovah Witnesses looking for a place to rest their feet, or needing a gardener, always wanting donations, and belief. I made sure their toes were relaxed, the soil was tilled, and the donation a memory. Nothing special. Anyway, I’m not for hire. The last one I talked with sailed ship with a donkey, another woman, and a bag of pistachios.”
“They do that, eh?” Harold said with what passed for a sly grin.
“Harold, the cats do that.”

“Well, maybe I could see her.”
“I never saw her, Harold. She kept saying she was going to come up here and visit when I talked with her, but after a series of ‘just a second’ when I’d hear some damn strange noises erupting from the phone, she chickened out.”
“Perfect for me! If she chickens out, no loss; if she doesn’t, I get a date.”
“What about the woman waiting down the street?”
Harold had grabbed a beer from the fridge in the meantime, and came back into the kitchen after a tremendous noise.
“Don’t slam the fridge door, Harold!”
“That wasn’t the door,” Harold replied, smiling like Buddha.

I thought about the prospect of unleashing Cousin Harold on the woman. Yes. Truly perfect. Even though I still miss her like the moon.

“Alright, Harold. I’ll call her. I am certain she’d be glad to meet you.”
“Well do it, now.”

The phone rang. Serendipity. And yippy. I answered and it was her, squawking out,”Well where the fuck have you been, hiding out with trolls?”
Thank you, Jesus.
I said, “No, entertaining my Cousin Harold. He’s a writer, too.” I neglected to mention that Harold did his writing on various indoor Poop Room walls.
“Can I meet him? Anything to do with you is magical. You’re my obsession.”
Fuck me gently.

“Sure, he’d be glad to meet you.”
“What’s he look like – not that I’m concerned about that – but just curious.”
“Sort of like a cross between Magilla Gorilla, and Bluto.”
“Right on. Let’s do it.”
I told her Harold would meet her right away, done deal, and hung up.

“Harold, you have a date. One hour. In the shopping mall.”
“Where in the mall?”
“The parking lot. She’s a little concerned about her security.”

Harold ran off and began slicking his hair down, tightening the belt, and generally huffing and puffing. Certain as all guys he’d get the girl, treat her well, and he could then go back to whatever his vocation was while she sat at home, ate bon bons, cursed her fate, and planned where to stand when she whacked him over the head as he came in the door.

I’d barely settled down to eat my meal when Harold came thumping back in the door, and sat down, eyes star-gazed.
“So, that was quick. She have binoculars and spot you coming?”

“She was very lovely, thin, and smart as hell. Sexy in her sweet unassuming air. But as I got to her, something happened.
She was very casually dressed, yet nice. With thought for her look, and the affect. Ordinary, yet elegant.
I held out my hand and said, Hi, I’m Harold. At that very moment, her face turned red, she squeezed her fists together – sort of reminded me of that little nimrod in the restaurant awhile back – and just blew the biggest gas I have ever heard creep from some female’s backdoor beehive.
Not to be outdone, I threw up the Pepsi I’d just had to calm myself and the rumblings of an empty stomach, and a loud belch erupted.”

Twins, I thought.

“So, what’s the future hold, Harold? Sounds perfect for you.”
“It’s like that herd instinct you were telling me about one time. We’re due for each other.”
“Harold, I was distinguishing between the hard instinct, so to speak, and the herd instinct of violent sheep. You know, mad ewes chomping down on you because they see another doing it; and saying that if they got their hard instinct together, there’d likely be no sheep action.”
“Oh,” was Harold’s singular reply as he gazed off, drooling.
“Come on, Harold, you’re looking like a bridegroom already. When’s the happy day?”

“Well, she has to have her colon checked, and I need to have those Easter Island heads on my bunghole popped out or whatever, then we’re off on vacation.”

Harold, never shy.

“How do you know she’s the one, Harold?”
“We said our hellos, like I said. Then we took a stroll through the department store because she said she’d like to do something else.
I was looking at getting some brand new T-shirts for the occasion, and I couldn’t help it. A family was across the aisle and I strained but couldn’t stop the ass trumpet from going off.
I thought I was done. The husband looked like he’d kill me, and the wife looked at him like ‘well, there’s your buddy.’

Next thing I knew, Ms. Crankypants was coming down the aisle, yelling, “I’ve found you!” Big smile on her face, not like the others who would always make me feel second-rate.”

Imagine that, I thought.

I could see the conversations now. Harold in one part of the country would pick up the phone, and arrrk into it; and his beloved, Ms.Crankypants would thrust the receiver against her ass like a small but unloved dog, and bark back.
Young lovers.

Oh Happy Day.

©Dean J. Baker

I was grumbling to my mother during or recent shopping trip about men, and she said to me " You don't seem to like men very much at the moment do you" and you know, I had to agree with her. The more I date men; the more that I get myself out there, the less I actually like them. I have no respect for them. If I was a man acting like this I'd get untold amounts of grief for being a misogynist. I am a Misandrist. You don't hear that word bandied about very often, do you? its that rerely used that its not even in the spellchecker.

I just don't understand why men feel that its okay to treat women like shit. At first I thought it was just my ex who was blindingly selfish and unaware of how his actions impact on others. Now I've realised that this appears to be a rather unpleasant side effect of testosterone in most men. Do men treat their other men friends this way? Or do the other men just not notice, because they are men?

There's something in me, (Hope), that is saying "keep on going- there's got to be someone nice for you out there" but that voice is getting more and more drowned out by my self esteem telling it to go shove itself.

[dailymotion id=x5wabh]
The Supermen Lovers sur MySpace
The Superman Lovers sur Wikipédia

I promise when I bite into them
my only thoughts will be:
of you undressed, and waiting for me

©Dean J. Baker

yesterday, i made frew mp3s from youtube files, making use of the website called www.flv2mp3.com.

Alright, time to divulge a few more pertinent details about my life...

I know I have mentioned that Lover is active duty military, currently deployed.  However, I failed at the time to also mention that Husband is active duty military as well.  And, yes, while I am a military wife, please reserve your condemnation and judgment until you have ALL the facts.  Which, sadly, I may not supply you with anytime soon.  I guess you will just have to continue to read without prejudice for a while.  Or not, no one is forcing you to visit the blog, but I must admit, I do like getting the company.  No, I did not "hook-up with" Lover while Husband was deployed, ... well not exactly anyway...  Damn, I guess I am going to give a little more information than I had planned...  Be patient, and strap in...

This is not my first marriage.  Yes, I have one utterly failed miserable marriage already behind me, and I did not escape it as unscathed and unwounded as I always lead others to believe.  Sadly, I was very much in love with THE EX, and I do believe he was very much in love with me.  However, our timing was all just completely off, and we failed to really discuss where we saw ourselves going in the future before we got married.  And, too, I was perhaps a bit young, immature, and impetuous at the time, and failed to clearly think through the ramifications of marriage.  Anyway, after a very rocky, tumultuous, and brief marriage, we called it what it was, a DISASTER, and filed for divorce.  Now, the divorce itself was very amicable, as was the discussion and decision to get a divorce.  But, even though the divorce itself was not a waged battle, I still came out the other side with some serious scars and wounds, on my heart and soul.  I guess that is to be expected when you are forced to face the facts that sometimes love is not nearly enough to keep a relationship together. 

Now, to my family and friends, I know that it appeared that the marriage was ended quickly and almost without any kind of feeling on either of our parts.  However, I do tend to be a very private person, and do not like openly sharing my feelings with anyone, close family and friends included.  It takes a hell of a lot of work to really get to know me.  To be honest, I can count on one hand the number of people who are actually privy to all aspects of my personality, life, and experiences...  Two people.  And because of this, I often catch a lot of grief and flak from other people regarding my 'coldness', 'aloofness', and 'uncaring' attitude.  I am actually a deeply caring, emotional person, I just choose ot wear my heart on my sleeve; there is less chance of getting it broken, hurt, or bruised that way.

 The truth is, I was deeply hurt by my divorce.  I mean, I had actually married for love, and had it crash and burn in record time.  Tragically, I did not realize how hard I took the divorce and how deeply I had been scarred until years later, after I had already remarried.  I had truly loved THE EX, our personalities had complimented each other well, and we had a VERY healthy sex life.  (Okay, perhaps the sex life comment was a bit much, but that is a BIG deal for me, given some other experiences and events from my past, which I WILL NOT get into at this time.  Some of them are still just too raw more than a decade later.)  But, my point is, even with how well we got along, with how healthy our relationship was, it still was not enough to make the marriage work.  And that, I think now, was enough to really screw up my ideas and beliefs in the 'institution' of marriage.

And so, I did what many women who have experienced similar pain with relationships have done; I had a long string of one-night stands and flings (friends with benefits and fuck buddies, and whatever else you may call them) and then I went for the 'safe' choice in my next serious relationship.  I married the nice guy I knew from high school, who was nothing like any of the other men I had ever dated.  He is the guy that I could have a decent life with, and be content, but who does not stir any strong passionated feelings in me at all.  That is Husband; the one everyone thinks of as the all-around good guy.  (Although, after knowing him for more than 15 years, I can tell you that the 'good-guy image' is not particularly sterling.  He has a drinking problem, some unresolved post-traumatic issues from childhood AND recent deployments to Iraq, and anger management problems.) 

Now, ... How I Met Lover...  I actually met him through Husband.  Lover and Husband were stationed together at one point, before we were married.  I believe I met him once in passing (more like Husband, who was a boyfriend at the time, pointed to some random guy in a group of other guys who were all dressed in the same uniform and had the same haircut, and said, "Hey, that's _____" and we continued walking along.)  But, fast forward almost a year later, Husband and I are married, living in a crappy apartment in a crappy military area, and Husband and Lover are once again stationed in the same place. 

Husband comes home one day to say that he ran into Lover, who is currently going through a divorce.  For a few days afterward there were several mentions of Lover, and I knew what was coming next, as I know my husband quite well.  Husband comes home one day, says Lover invited him out for drinks, and asked if I would mind if he went.  At the time I miserably ill with bronchitis and praying hourly for death, so I was elated at the prospect of Husband being out of my hair for a few hours.  Anyway, Lover showed up at the door and it was immediate attraction, the kind that punches you hard in the stomach and sends those delicious little electrical shivers up your spine and along all of your nerve endings.  I pretty much figured it was the fever.  I was wrong.

However, for three years I fought against all of my primal and basic urges and impulses where Lover was concerned.  Trust me, that wasn't an easy feat, especially when Husband invited him to move in with us, or when Lover's divorce went through and he was very vulnerable and emotionally needy, or when his girlfriend aborted their baby after the wedding plans went south, or when I could foresee the train wreck that would become his second marriage if he went through with it...  I was a good girl, kept my mouth shut, hands to myself (mostly), stomped out any little fires that may have ignited, and was a good friend. 

Honestly, I probably could have went right on doing that for a very long time.  But, alas, that was not to be when Lover decided it was time to come clean and tell me his true feelings.  It was that powerful hard punch of instant attraction and lust all over again.  Luckily, at this point, we were separated by the entire United States, as we lived on opposite coasts.  However, that hasn't stopped us from 'communicating' via telephone, email, and Internet.  And I will completely confess to an increasingly desperate curiosity to know what it would be like to have a sexual relationship with Lover.  He is one of the most sexual and sensual people I know, and I am most assured that it would definitely be an experience worth writing about, remembering, and repeating.

And that is how I reached this particular point in my life, where I need an anonymous blog in which to confess my sins and transgressions to total strangers in cyberspace as I walk the tricky line between fidelity and infidelity, honesty and betrayal, a decent, contented marriage or true and honest passion.

©Dean J. Baker

A man,
preparing to serve

The sentence he has
not been stranger to

You consider the issues,
refuse to debate:

Their understanding
is the last betrayal.

©Dean J. Baker

After a particularly hectic day, my husband came home from work mentally and physically exhausted.  We had a light dinner and laid on the couch together, chatting about our individual days.

As we were talking, I realised ( yet again)  how wonderful he is.What a sweet  man he is.  What a delightful soul i am sharing my life with  and how lucky I feel to that he is in my life. 

I told him all of this and though he smiled and thanked me quite casually, I could see in his eyes just how much it meant to him to hear these words from me.

We are all more than aware of how important it is to acknowledge childrens efforts. To express our feelings towards them, letting them know how we love them and how well they are doing, to share how proud of them we are etc etc but we sometimes forget that this need carries on throughout our lives.

It doesnt stop at 18,20, 25 or even 30.  We as adults need  and thrive on the same encouragement and re assurance that we are doing ok as children do. 

Ok as adults we need to learn not to depend on others for this, we try to learn to do this for ourselves. BUT, its still a wonderful gift to give to a loved one.. truthful, heartfelt and genuine encourgement and love.

When I expressed my simple truthful comments to my hsuband, he appreciated it, it helped him feel good.. and it helped remind me to be more aware of this need not only in my wonderful husband, but also my friends and my family.

Thanks existance for the reminder.  Awareness, its such a magical journey

until next time

mysticmiss

So, I have received a few offline instant messages from the Lover this week.  I have also sent him a few offline messages.  Nothing major, just general, "Hey, how are you, miss you" stuff.  We just do not seem to be able to connect this week.  But, then again, that is par for the course.  Truth of the matter is we usually only get to really "connect" and talk about once a week, or once every two weeks.  And that is all via the Internet right now.  We are currently on opposite side of the globe, though.  It takes some logistically planning and luck to really have a conversation.  And no, the phone is not an option, as he is deployed.  (Yeah, call me all sorts of whore right now, he is military.)  But, he is due to come back to the States this month... and then we will only be separated by one country, as we live on opposite coasts... for now...  All in all, that is probably for the best, otherwise I am sure I would have done something by now to truly earn the title of the Tarnished Wife or fallen woman

So, not much going on... One hit for Husband, one miss for Lover...  But, I have a brand new CD to listen to and some wine to drink, so I am still coming out ahead...

Cheers!

~The Tarnished Wife

By their actions, not by their words -
By the behavior, not the sentiment
Of sheathed swords; by the buried
Feelings unseen and unheard, unless
You hear between the syllables
And silence, the language of the unspoken

By what’s known and unknown, not
What’s agreed upon and conferred;
By a certain willingness to not be first,
By what’s disclosed, not the requested joke:
Of the one thing you should know
Before you pass into the realms of fog

By what is not required to admit access,
By what is told to you alone, not mocked
By a million friends who are all special too;
By the trust held close, the vow not lost:
Freedom to be wrong without harm, by these
Things unsaid and not chosen as we go

©Dean J. Baker

I truly don't mean to cause him pain. And out of all the current men in my life he is the only one who manages to make me feel so guilty. Even now there is a slight sick swirling in my stomach at the thought he is hurting and angry right now. As I said I don't mean to cause him pain and at one point he hurt me so badly I wanted him to experience a taste of what he had given so liberally. Truly I have not been able to hold a permanent grudge against him despite our past. We have this yo-yo effect where we pull apart and spring back together, and he has not adjusted to my being with multiple men, when I have had to share his heart and body with several others before---some he chose repeatedly over me.

But as it is I still feel terrible when he gets sick and shows how pained he is. No matter how crazy things have been and how fractious our temperaments and arguments become I don't doubt he loves me. I care for him, but not enough to stop seeing other people I suppose. Not enough to seriously choose to be with him again right now. I have considered the possibility, and while there is much I desire about him , there is just as much I don't desire to deal with again. For instance his mood swings, his temper, his financial instability, his jealousy and resentment, his having two children, his family, and the naysay that would come from my family and friends who have witnessed the brutalities over our previous involvement. I don't want the headache. Maybe some of that makes me selfish but after what I went through with him he really cannot blame me. A more sensible and less compassionate woman than myself would never speak to him and be done with him for good considering his past treatment.

He is not a bad person, in fact he has some great qualities that keep me drawn to him. He is loving, passionate, protective, universal and we can laugh and hang together. I do enjoy him in many ways, but not enough to say let's try again...not yet. I mean there would have to be some major changes and even then the love I have for him now is not the same. But God knows I care. But I can't deny myself right now. While I want a monogamous relationship, my behavior supports anything but that. After being disillusioned and waiting on certain men I have dealt with and waited on for so long I've reached the point where until I am convinced they are ready and serious I am doing what I want to do. Enjoying and exploring each of them until I choose to be with someone.

That might seem out cold, but that is the reality of it. I'm tired of leaving the ball in their court. I am going to do me until I make a decision which might involve one of them or none of them. I'm not capable of being faithful to anyone right now because I have no faith to place in a man right now. I have a wealth of caring and passion, but truly trusting, no. That's the truth of the matter and while this way of dealing with the situation is hardly satisfactory, it's what's on the agenda for now.

Even while attempting to focus on honoring my feelings, thoughts, desires and needs I still find myself plagued with some guilt over my Cancer. He can be so sweet and has suffered so much, but I can't take the hilt for every struggle he has been through in life. We all have our pain and while I don't want to add to it, it's my life, and this is the way things are until something changes.

I have to get focused. I have to get my life in order. So many gambles and no returns---and I can't afford it. I could not keep track of my thoughts or prayers early this morning. They were all interrupted like so many possibilities of a real relationship with a person I love in my life. A relationship should not be the most important thing to me in the face of all the work I must do, but it IS important to me.

Later, I will try to pray again. Right now I need to focus on the mundane tasks ahead of me in this office. This too must change. There's so much more to life and I want far more than this.

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http://deanjbaker.blogspot.com/

http://deanjbaker.wordpress.com/

We shall allow increase,
into this:
suddenly more real

Creating
these worlds,
we move toward by slow degrees

©Dean J. Baker

Usually the norm for a new blog is for the author to go into some kind of detail explaining themselves and their lives to you.  I am not going to do that, at least not right now.  I am sure that at some point I will feel the need to disclose that information, but not tonight.  For tonight, I am only prepared to offer the barest of introductions. 

From the title of the blog, and this post, I am sure you can come up with the general reason for my writing.  I am a married woman, but do not believe that I am particularly suited to the whole married life.  Quite frankly, I believe that I make a rather poor wife.  I was always much better at being a girlfriend, or lover.  The whole wife thing, however, just seems to be beyond me.  This is my second marriage, and it does not seem to be faring any better the first, although it has lasted much longer.  So, I guess that is something.  Yay me, progress.

Anyway, here is the gist of it...  I do love my husband.  I have known him for nearly two thirds of my life, we grew up together.  However, I am no longer in love with him, if I ever really was.  While this is a commonplace occurrence nowadays, it really is no great comfort to me.  And, as if that is not enough, I am having an Internet affair with another man.  (By Internet affair, I mean it is all done through words and pictures, text messages, phone calls, instant messages, nothing physical.)  A man I find extremely attractive; a man who is very exciting; a man who is also married, with a child; a man who is my husband's friend.  (Starting to see where the 'tarnished' part comes in?)  Oh, and I almost forgot, a man with whom I am falling in love.  (Again, see from whence the 'tarnished wife' part is coming?)

So, basically, this blog is my confessor as I attempt to traverse the narrow path between right and wrong, fidelity and betrayal, and try to figure out exactly what it is that I want out of this life I am leading.  That is the real problem, I truly do not know what I want anymore.  For the first time in my thirty years, I am completely without a dream or a goal for my life, and that scares me to death.  I have never been without a plan, or a goal, or a dream.  I find myself floundering, sinking, falling, and I just cannot seem to be able to grab a solid handhold to keep from spiraling further downward.

~ The Tarnished Wife

As far as someone who fits into the "desired other" category, there are only three relationships that I see possible.

In my experience, love is a real thing.  So are sex and friendship.

And...you can be friends with someone, and have sex with them.  You can love them and be friends, although that gets a bit iffy because of jealousy (however, a need for exclusivity is quite clearly part of the Anglo-american culture, not quite sure where or if the aussies fit in).  You can love someone and have sex with them, but that tends to be short-lived.  As far as friendship, love and sex fitting under one bumbershoot, I don't think so.

Then again, given my family's sordid history, it wouldn't be surprising that since I'm not incestuous and a child molester I'm rather withdrawn.  

Besides, nothing like keeping readers guessing.

--Glenn

unfortunately the bit about the family is true.  Ick.  It's why I changed my name from Smith back to Charles.

The brain is unfettered
in its jug; spilling over
with the nostalgia of alcohol

Flat on their backs, near Moss
Park, curled fetus-like, the
inhabitants whirl in a static frenzy of

Enfeeblement, any amusement here
sublingual: the posthumous twitching
of cynics en masse

©Dean J. Baker

Uite... de ce era plictisitor. Mergeam mereu în aceleaşi locuri. De fapt, cred că erau vreo două locuri. Pe atunci era la modă Cafeneaua Actorilor; cred că de atunci am căpătat o aversiune pentru locul ăla. Al doilea nu mai ştiu care era. Apoi, erau discuţiile. Acum vreau să cred că dacă mi-am pierdut câteva luni din viaţă cu el, conversaţiile aveau şi ceva substanţă. Dar ce-mi aduc aminte erau comentariile non-stop despre cum arată X sau chestii de genul. Acuma, mă ştii, am o mare tentă maliţioasă, aşa că astfel de chestii erau oarecum simpatice. Totuşi, orice exces strică. Şi exces era.

Şi ultima chestie... de asta îmi amintesc cu cel mai mult umor. Mergeam în club în fiecare weekend. Era ca o lege. Dacă nu era sâmbătă, era vineri. Acolo era locul lui preferat de comentat. Bine, să recunoaştem, ca şi în ziua de azi, şi atunci erau diverse de comentat. Şi ţin minte că erau diverse personaje cărora le dădusem porecle. Ei erau acolo în fiecare săptămână, ca şi noi. Stau şi mă gândesc acum, că nu era un comportament foarte matur. Bine, eu aveam 20 de ani sau mai puţin - ce era să ştiu eu? Da' el trebuia să ştie mai bine, în pula mea.

Să-ţi povestesc ce făceam la club? Ne giugiuleam toată noaptea! Ţi-e rău? Bine, eu de fapt voiam să mă zbânţui, să mai fac şi altceva. Dar ţi-ai găsit cu cine. Nu puteam să dansăm, el "nu ştia". Şi crede-mă că n-a ţinut aia cu "te învăţ eu, e uşor, doar mişcă-te". La un moment dat trebuia să mă descurc singur, da' în fine.

În definitiv, mai bine că ne-am despărţit. I know I was better off. Apoi l-am cunoscut pe Qu. Ceea ce s-a mai întâmplat între timp probabil nu are relevanţă. Nu mai ţin minte. Despre Qu deja am vorbit multe, nu? El a fost ăla care m-a ţinut în "agonie şi extaz" pentru prea multă vreme. Şi, în continuare, singurul după care mi-ar putea părea rău.

Între timp am crescut şi eu. Aş zice că m-am maturizat (sau poate nu). Cu siguranţă m-am schimbat, sau m-au schimbat. Au mai fost şi alţii care, să zicem, mi-au marcat existenţa. Şi ei ar merita menţionaţi pe undeva. Dar altă dată.

Parcă toată povestea începuse cu "de ce sunt single?". Ştii, cred că e din cauză că niciodată nu am fost "al cuiva", şi nici nu mă văd genul care ar fi. Să fie din cauza la prea mult "eu" şi mult mai puţin "tu"?

Am răspuns că mi-e pur şi simplu lehamite să merg la date-uri. În ultima vreme ăştia cu care am ieşit se pot considera "norocoşi" că m-au prins cu chef să ies din casă. Să vedem de unde vine lipsa de chef...

Probabil am mai spus-o. În alte vremuri, am avut destule experienţe. Ba chiar, unii au făcut ochii cât cepele când au auzit statistici. Şi nu mă laud cu asta, pentru că la o adică nu mi-a adus mare lucru. Prin experienţe nu vreau să spun neapărat sex, ci doar că am cunoscut tipi. E firesc să ştii mai întâi care e piaţa, nu? Ei, nu, nu mi-am tras-o nici măcar cu jumătate din câţi am cunoscut. Dar în fine. Problema e că foarte puţini mi-au plăcut atât de mult încât să mai încerc a doua oară - şi, ce bine, nici ei n-au încercat. Dacă aşteptaţi să mă strofoc eu (din nou), să mă sugeţi. One time is enough!

În fine, după câteva serii d-astea începi să te întrebi. La ce bun? Oricum e foarte probabil la fel ca oricare altul. So why the fuck? De ce să mă rad când n-am chef, de ce să stau să mă gândesc cu ce mă îmbrac - când pot foarte simplu să-mi iau jeanşii şi un tricou, de ce să stau nu ştiu cât în oglindă aranjându-mi părul, şi toate astea pentru un fiasco, când aş putea foarte bine să nu. A, şi ce e cel mai rău: trebuie să te faci că chiar te interesează despre celălalt. Ori, sincer, mie mi se cam foarte rupe. Şi nu ştiu de ce. Poate din cauză că nimeni nu vrea să spună ceva interesant. Când mă întreabă pe mine, pot să vorbesc despre chestia aia câteva minute; când întreb eu, obţin răspunsuri din una-două propoziţii. Şi cel mai rău mă oftică aia cu "spune-mi despre tine"; okay, recunosc că uneori o mai folosesc şi eu. Dar despre mine... ce să-ţi spun... citeşte în pula mea cartea! Atfel, eu... de unde să încep. No fucking clue.

It's a crazy world out there, monşer. Şi totuşi... cum mă ştii... nu renunţ niciodată. Cum înapoi nu putem să ne ducem, putem merge doar înainte. Cred că în definitiv nu sunt chiar aşa de greu de "abordat"... doar n-o fi ca la loterie - dacă apeşi butonul care trebuie, o să funcţioneze.

Eh... asta chiar a fost lungă. Poate oarecum fără sens? Ce dracu' vrei, e noapte, n-am putut să dorm, citeşte şi tu printre rânduri.

]]> http://perpetualdream.wordpress.com/2008/06/29/ghosts-ii/ Sun, 29 Jun 2008 03:57:26 +0000 dr. paul http://perpetualdream.wordpress.com/2008/06/29/ghosts-ii/ Că tot veni vorba. El a fost cea mai lungă relaţie - poate singura pe care am avut-o. Nu mai ţin minte exact cum ne-am cunoscut... a fost tot ceva de genul internet, tehnologii, bla bla bla. Ştii, dacă stau bine să mă gândesc nici măcar nu era aşa de frumos. Şi totuşi, avea ceva. Draci, acum nu mă întreba de ce mi-o fi plăcut. Poate pentru că nu aveam altceva de făcut.

Ah, şi apropos de asta. L-am revăzut, acum câţiva ani. Totalmente casual. Eram la Unirii cu o prietenă - cu prietena mea cea mai bună. Era p-acolo, în faţa magazinului, probabil aştepta pe cineva. Am făcut lucrul pe care îl blamează toţi prietenii mei. Am trecut pe lângă el fără să-l observ. Nu ştiu dacă el m-a văzut pe mine. Sincer, nici nu cred că m-ar mai recunoaşte. Nu ştiu ce i-aş fi putut spune. De fapt, la o adică nici nu voiam. Fie trecutul trecut. Singurul cu care nu pot să aplic asta e Qu. Aşa că am mers mai departe, şi nu i-am spus Zorei nimic, decât după o vreme - când am amintit aşa în doară "ştii, odată când eram cu tine pe la Unirii l-am văzut pe Valentin".

Lui trebuie însă să-i recunosc un mare merit. Bon, partea a doua că e că el a fost laş, sau nu ştiu - aşa am văzut-o atunci şi aşa mi-a rămas. Nu ştiu, poate am mai povestit despre asta. O să-ţi spun: atunci eram mic şi prost şi naiv, şi nu ştiam cum se procedează. Nu ştiu dacă acum "I know better".

Poate între noi a fost puţin forţat. Am început să ne vedem destul de des destul de repede - "gli incontri divennero asidui e frequenti". Şi îmi aduc aminte cam cum se petreceau întâlnirile noastre - anume, comentam diverse chestii la lumea de pe stradă; majoritatea timpului oricum. Cel puţin după ce ne-am cunoscut. În acelaşi timp, eu Zora şi Ştef ne împrieteneam din ce în ce mai mult. Ele spun că îşi puneau oarecari semne de întrebare.

Asta e prea nostim ca să nu-ţi povestesc. Era clar că se întâmpla ceva. Devenea destul de greu să ascunzi/maschezi bipurile şi mesajele pe care le primeam de mai multe ori pe zi, când eram la şcoală. Clar se întâmpla ceva, şi n-am putut să neg că... în fine, mă văd cu "cineva". Dar încă nu ştiau nimic. Ţin minte că zilele alea Zora nu venise la şcoală, şi nu prea ne văzusem. Într-o seară, mergeam cu Ştef spre casă. Şi evident, cum fac femeile (nu?) a început să mă tragă de limbă. Lucru la care n-am putut rezista foarte mult (iar, puterea lor, nu?). Voia un nume... şi până la urmă i l-am dat. Într-o formă total androgină. Apoi într-o altă zi - ne întâlnisem toţi trei să mergem la examen. Ţin minte şi acum când m-am urcat în troilebuz, şi ele două erau pe scaun, şi Zora îmi arunca o privire. "Adică, ce e asta ce-mi spune Ştef? Hai, varsă tot". În fine, am bălăcit-o şi de data asta, dar nu mai ţin minte ce am spus.

Pe de altă parte, noi doi porumbeii discutam despre problema "coming out". Eu vorbeam într-una despre Zora în sus şi jos, el la fel avea o prietenă bună despre care tot vorbea. Aşa că ne-am decis să "le spunem". Da, în fine, probabil că era beţia iubirii. Dar acum, în lumina înţelepciunii, îţi spun - nu l-am iubit niciodată, a fost altceva. Deja chestia asta era pe creierul meu de ceva vreme... probabil de când începuseră mesajele cu "te iubesc" - adică după vreo câteva săptămâni. Acum dacă mi-ar spune-o cineva, foarte probabil -aş râde în nas.

Nu ştiu de ce, dar eram într-un fel de extaz. Dar nu era iubire; nu avea cum. Ideea e că pur şi simplu simţeam că trebuie să spun cuiva, sau o să explodez. Cred că eram încântat de ideea de a avea "boyfriend"-ul. Am luat-o pe Zora la telefon că trebuie neapărat să ne vedem, că urgent, că trebuie să-i spun ceva. Şi ea a crezut că aveam "girl-trouble". Ha! Ei, şi în fine, ne-am întâlnit, să zicem că eram nervos, dar oricum nu mai aveam cum s-o dau la întors, şi nici nu voiam. Aşa că i-am spus-o. Nu mai dau alte detalii, sunt irelevante. A vrut să-l cunoască, l-a cunoscut, şi cam atât. Problema, dacă putem să-i spunem aşa, e că el nu s-a ţinut de partea lui din înţelegere. Nu mai ştiu ce mi-a spus, dar în fine... ideea e că nu s-a ţinut. Oh well... life went on.

Ştii, poate că în subconştient am luat-o ca pe o trădare. Oricum l-am învinovăţit după ce ne-am despărţit. N-am invocat trădarea ca motiv, ci slăbiciunea. La o adică, el o cunoştea pe "a lui" de când erau copii, eu o cunoşteam pe Zora de câteva luni.

Să nu mă întrebi de ce ne-am despărţit. Nici eu nu ştiu. Bine, acum să zicem că pot să văd motivele pentru care era o idee bună. Atunci nu. Am relativ suferit câteva săptămâni, m-am apucat de fumat oarecum din draci, am ascultat multă muzică de jale, şi eventually I got over it. Evident că mi-a trântit-o şi p-aia cu "hai să rămânem prieteni". Puişor, eu nu pot rămâne prieteni cu cineva care mi-a supt pula (şi cui i-am supt pula). Crede-mă că am încercat de câteva ori să mai ieşim în oraş - n-a mers. Okay, voi recunoaşte că nu-mi trecuse ranchiuna... şi mie nu-mi prea trece niciodată. Într-un final pur şi simplu am pierdut legătura... şi n-am avut o mare tragere de inimă să o reiau. Până să se întâmple asta cred că au mai fost evenimente, dar nu-mi aduc aminte acum.

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