I can’t stop thinking about P. It’s bad. Seeing him sparked this new thought about how I’m supposed to naturally exist in relationships, what I’m so poorly trying to write about right now. I could use him as an example - what I had set out to do - yet it somehow all comes back to Ray. It may be because I suddenly feel like Ray is now reading this shit and I’m trying to send messages to him. I may be trying to make amends this way. It’s stupid. It’s contradictory to the whole basis of this website. It ruins my writing. Completely. What I should be talking about is the tall one. He’s the one who led me to all of these thoughts. He’s the one I’d fuck right now if I saw him. In a heartbeat. He’s the one I fantasize about in a totally new way that I’ve never really seen in men before. If I saw Ray today I’d sit him down at my table, pour him a glass of Pendleton, and just make him talk.
Fuck man. I’m really mean. I have no idea how mean I really am. I always think that I’m just defending myself. In reality I’m picking on someone then putting him down when he fights back. If I’m not using my words to make him feel bad I’m creating such an inhospitable or insulting situation that he has no choice but to disrespect me in order to fight back himself. This usually comes in the form of rejection. Which I don’t stand for. Because I somehow know that he doesn’t mean it. Or doesn’t actually want to leave. It’s always confirmed by his return. Which I never let him forget. And the cycle continues. I’m a fucking cunt! I was particularly bad to this one. Like - really fucking bad. I may have actually done damage. Why? I was so fucking into him when we met. When he was drunk. I was actually drunk too. But we were being ourselves. And I let my guard down. He treated me the way that I naturally demand to be treated - like a fucking Badass Lady of the Universe, and I ate it up and put my hand on his leg and gave back warmth and words and a nice little make out session. I felt something special for him, even just in one first meeting drunken attempt to hang out all night and make it into my apartment. In true form I’m the one who picked him up, by being a fucking bitch and making fun of him up front. Without even introducing myself. But something about him was special. Why I had to turn it into something else so dark and fucked up and volatile I can only guess.
I liked him when he was drunk, each time. It’s more like I liked myself. I calmed down. I let myself feel vulnerable. I let him look at me like the thing that I am. And I allowed myself to be that thing instead of locking it up every time we saw each other as some sort of punishment or statement that he didn’t deserve it or maybe he did but he’d have to force it out of me. I have no idea what I wanted him to do. I think I just wanted his support, I wanted someone’s fucking support, but I didn’t want to ask for it. I wanted him to prove that he meant it. I wanted to beat it out of him. Which obviously is not possible. I’d just ended up terrorizing him and making him feel like shit, I focused all of the attention on his problems and denied that I had any of my own. I have a lot of fucking problems. If I saw him today I’d say Dude, I have a big problem right now. Will you just let me chill, maybe let me lie on you, I’ll touch your hair, we don’t have to talk about anything, or maybe we can talk about something stupid? Can you entertain me? You’re really funny, just do that for a while. I got the feeling that he had some emotional depth. Maybe not in any way capable of sharing it with another person, but I had this urge to tap into it. Of course I antagonized it. I found it and exploited it. Instead of just trying to connect. I think I’ve been so focused on finding an intellectual match that I forget about just being appreciated for what I am, regardless of whether or not the man is exactly the same. I’m never going to be with anyone who is exactly the same. Ray isn’t even exactly the same. He worked his ass off to keep up with me. Right now maybe I can get other things from a man and give my assets as a gift instead of a some sort of competition. I should have done that with P. I should have stayed open. He would have liked me. I think we would have gotten along really well.
I don’t know why I still have such tender feelings for this man. We were so fucking horrible to each other. But I feel totally at fault for it. I pushed him into it. I wasn’t ready to meet someone new. And I wasn’t ready to meet a new kind of person. But in reality - isn’t he the kind of person that I should be with? Someone that I immediately pay attention to, who makes me feel as powerful as I am, who taps into an emotional tenderness that I rarely have, and who makes me laugh? I feel so much regret over everything that happened with him. It makes for great stories, he became the perfect punch line, but really it’s only because I wanted him to be. That’s how powerful I am. I can make a man into anything I want him to be. And I have to start understanding that. And finally make a man into someone I can trust, who will be here, who will care. They’ve always been here. Ready and willing. And I turn them into big raging dicks. So I’m sorry P. You didn’t deserve it. I got these crazy vibes seeing you on Saturday. And I hate to say, but I’d fuck you in a heartbeat. Oh whoops was I talking about sex? That too. You're good at sex.