Waking up at 6:10 p.m.
Orange Juice. Zinc.
Working on the Google exam.
Emily walks in, “It looks tidy in here.”
Me: “You moved out remember?”
[haha]
We go to Rick’s for brotherly sisterly time, to which it has been a long time since we’ve talked to each other about our lives and such.
I compliment the Coen Brother’s films and how they take these sort of anti-hero-like characters and put them in a realistic situation where they can choose to be a hero, but sometimes don’t.
Her: “The Coen Brothers should write a movie about you….Cause the way you described that kind of reminded me of how sometimes you have fantasies about heroism.”
Talking about the weird correlations of my dreams yesterday to some of the waking life situations I was put in: the blondes, Margot’s lips, etc.
Talking about how interesting it’d be if someone close to me or even just somebody I saw often kept a daily public blog like I did…
Her: “Like if Margot had one. If you compiled them into a book, the two contrasting. That would be incredible.”
She settles for a patty melt and I go for the French Toast. I think Emily was some kind of underwater creature in a past life because she’s drunk 4 glasses of water while I’ve taken like 4 sips of my glass.
Analyzing my relationship with Margot…
Me: “I’m becoming psychotic like she used to be. No, not really…..Here’s what keeps me in it. I cannot imagine her with anybody else and I’ve never liked the idea of her with anybody else. Tried that twice. And I was not having it. Is that a legitimate reason to want to be with somebody? It’s kind of a possessive reason though. I mean it’s not the only reason. She’s really unique to me in lots of ways. Nobody else I know looks like her, acts like her. She has this personality that can be really passionate and lovable. And even her pestering qualities I miss. Like, I miss her pouting. And I have this inspiration to change the way things were.”
Her: “Do you see yourself getting married at all?”
Me: “Yeah I’ve considered that. I can see myself not being married at all. But then I realize that for my needs, the kind of person I am, I have a lot of love to give and if I can’t give it to anybody I’m gonna go crazy…..I can’t masturbate all my life. I’ve got to have real sex at some point. And I don’t want to be that guy that’s 42 years old, single, and every now and then hooking up with a girl. I want to have somebody to take care of, somebody that I can trust.”
Her: “The way you talk about Margot it seems almost like you want, not in a conventional way, but a muse. Like, someone you can look at and think ‘you’re some sort of beautiful enigma to me and I want you around me.’”
Me: “That’s the perfect way to put it.”
Me: “I think you’re always gonna have arguments and disagreements. And I know you’ve experienced that with Wesley. You’ve had situations where you cannot agree on something and it gets to both of you. And I tried to explain this to Margot it’s not gonna be any different with somebody else. You guys are still gonna have disagreements. You’re still gonna be the same person. So her being with me makes no difference than her being with somebody else.”
Her: “That’s scary because I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately…..So I think you maybe understand her where you have that comfortability and you’re more accepting of her faults at this point. Maybe she doesn’t see them as faults now but when she does them with someone else she’ll probably get a reality check from that.”
Me: “Does that sound right? Margot Smith?”
Her: “It’s almost too ordinary for her. You know is it weird that I’ve thought about that too!”
Me: “Emily Bunch?”
Her: “I think it’s cute.”
Me: “Me too. You know, I want my last name to be Valenzuela.”
Her: “She would love that, too!”
Me: “Wait! Yeah, you can do Valenzuela-Smith right? I think Valenzuela-Smith sounds cool.”
Her: “And it’s like a mix of exotic and normal.”
Me: “Cause that’s our story. We’re John Smith and Pocahontas. The thing is too she’s the only person I can have these fantasies with. I always think of these exotic scenarios like the Pocahontas story or some queen and prince type deal, like fantastical stories. And that’s what really draws me to her. I can make those come true in a way if I’m with her.”
Her: “You guys are such a Cancer-Leo relationship. Cause cancers are ruled by their emotions and Leos have grand ideas and like to be very passionate and Cancers love that. And they both like to be adored and have the capacity to adore each other.”
Emily mentions the bad rep this other guy has through other friends we know. It doesn’t sound good but I can’t vouch for someone’s past because I don’t even know him.
Me: “See and I feel like she’s attracted to dumbos like that sometimes. It doesn’t make any sense.”
Her: “Not only does that not make much sense to me but you have such great substance and maybe I’m biased. And I hate to look down on other people. Or like compare people cause that’s not always fair to do.”
Me: “Well it depends on what you want. Some people aren’t looking for others with substance.”
Her: “See that’s the thing. He’s just different than you and that’s what she thinks maybe she wants.”
Me: “Here’s another thing too. I see bad signs whenever she’s over at his place. [the mugging, the sudden sickness]”
Her: “I know when you love that’s all that matters.”
Me: “Yeah, that is true. Love is powerful in that way.”
Emily drops me back off at the house. Kenneth greets me inside, “How’s Miss Emily doing?”
Me: “She’s good.”
Kenneth: “Miss Emily works her ass off.”
Working on the exam.
You’re out drinking. And I’m feeling insecure as hell.
Lunch: Grilled Cheese with Tomato. Salt n Vinegar Chips. Honey Green Tea.
Watching Croupier [1998].
Scene between man and woman:
“What do I mean to you? I want to know. Tell me!”
“You’re my conscious.”
“Haven’t you got a conscious of your own?”
Newspaper route.
Blueberry Yogurt.
You’re stressing me out. I don’t feel at ease.
I can’t stop calling her because all I can think about is the worst-case scenarios, but even the less than worst-case scenarios are stressing me out. No answer. She texted me, “Love you” earlier before she went to sleep I assume. But I know she’s not home because her car is at the restaurant. She’s probably at douchebag’s place. Oh my gosh, I am psychotic and obsessive. What happened to me? What did she do to me?
Dinner: Chicken and Rice with Peppers and Onions. Broccoli.
Working on the exam.
Margot finally calls me back. It’s 8:45 a.m.
I’m desperate and shaking because she informs me Les and her kissed again. And that’s exactly what I was afraid of. She tells me she’s sorry. I’m infuriated and in the most insecure state I’ve ever been. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
She comes over—standing in my room
Her: “I wasn’t thinking.”
Me: “Yeah, because you were drinking.”
I’m going on and on about how real my love is and how fake and shallow these drunken escapades are. “I want to give you something real, Margot! Do you want to lose me? I know how you really feel. You’re not confused about your feelings. You’re just distracted.” Blah Blah Blah Blah Blah. The thousand words continue…
She’s tearing up in those precious eyes of hers. I can smell that musty alcohol smell on her.
I need to stop being an emotional obsessive little boy and man up. Stop crying about it. Fight back. Compete. Pursue. You want her, Robert? Then take her.
I demand that after her doctor’s appointment she come back here. She agrees.
Good night. 10 a.m.
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