It’s the first day we haven’t talked, something neither of us expected until some time next month. I think an ounce of Jäger will serve as company instead, and maybe a digestif for the healthy salmon (who must have swam 100000km before being caught) that was thanked for dinner. It burns the stomach and the throat, but doesn’t keep me warm.
Sometimes, she teases by calling me Jealous Jeffrey. It’s likely she’s gone to bed cause she has to get up early tomorrow, fallen asleep after a pilsner she grabbed from work. But the mind wanders, and I think of her at a Sigma Nu party, being hit on by some frat boy with a popped collar and a striped wristband around his forearm.
I never worry though, not cause I know she’s mine, but because she does.
(+5 bonus points if you get the album reference.)
I really do have love to give! I just don’t know where to put it!
—Quiz Kid Donnie Smith, Magnolia
Okay, I’ll admit it.
I need to love. I need it, the way I need to eat.
This is the same part of me that notices the faint outlines of hearts drawn in car windows. Also, the same part that marvels about that adolescent point in life, when one would draw something so simple and insignificant because the only worry was whether or not someone liked you back.
So when I don’t have someone to love, it fucking kills me.
Sometimes, my sarcastic humour is so dry and subtle that people who don’t know me very well think I’m being serious. I try to say things that are so ridiculous they can only be taken as a joke, but it doesn’t always work. Example:
Yesterday, Jairus made pulled pork sandwiches (took him 8 hours!) that smelled soooo good they made me hungry, even though I had just eaten a huge dinner. As we were watching A Jihad For Love (about the coexistence of homosexuality and Islam), Jesse said, “Too bad these Muslims wouldn’t be able to enjoy this delicious pulled pork sandwich”. I said, “Oh, cause it’s pulled”, in a tone like I had just realized something, but what I thought was a joking manner. Everyone turned their heads at me, Ian said, “Cause it’s pork, yeah”, and he lingered on that yeah really slowly, like he was embarrassed for me, then everyone turned back to the TV. I’m pretty sure they all think I’m an idiot now, and that I thought Muslims have something against animals when they’re slow-cooked in vinegar sauce.
Secrets aren’t so bad
We’re too young to feel safe
I don’t deserve all this now
Don’t want to feel I’ve made mistakes
I want to tell you everything
I want to tell you everything
But if I tell you everything
What we can build won’t mean a thing
—Secret’s Aren’t So Bad, Magneta Lane
There’s this thing, this sexual thing I like. I mean really like. It’s not exactly deviant, but certainly something that some girls may find gross or unappealing.
Even though it’s such a big deal to me, I never told any of my girlfriends about it. Only one of them liked it, and even she didn’t know how important it was to me, because it was something she wanted from me.
I know most of my girlfriends would have probably indulged me (at least once in a while) if I told them, but I never did. Not because it’s embarrassing, but because I never wanted any of them to feel obliged or pressured into doing it. I always think that one day, I’ll tell the right person because she’ll ask me what I like, and she’ll do it for me because she loves me. None of them have, yet, maybe because it’s never gotten boring in the bedroom.
So for now, it remains this little secret I keep, because secrets aren’t so bad. They can be little gems that bring people closer together. So why reveal them all so soon?
It’s hard for me to hang out with people with same bad habits as I have (or have had).
- analyzing or thinking too much
- being judgmental
- getting emotionally involved in arguments/discussions
- putting value in material things
- being impatient
- getting too competitive
I always try to improve and refuse to accept these things in myself, so it’s hard for me to accept them in others. I’m also afraid that spending too much time with them would make me complacent, as I’d start to believe that these things are acceptable because other people are okay with it.
That’s why I surround myself with people who are better than me.