She came over after a few texts of longing were exchanged at 5 in the morning so we could sleep next to each other. Everything was a blur...slipping underneath the covers...squeezing...holding on for deer life. Warm. “But no sex allowed. Just sleeping,” she iterates. Got it. But in the back of my mind I’m still hoping for pleasure. Withdrawal. Trying to enjoy the innocent moments of sharing intimate bed space. Some sleep...but mostly restless movement. I attempt to kiss her passionately but it recedes. After only a few hours and a strange tense dream associated with Stephanie she decides it would be good for her to go back home.
Me: “Why are you leaving?”
She wants to be in her own bed—she’s feeling restless and can’t sleep.
Me: “Okay...”
Her: “You mad at me?”
Me: “Yes.”
...
Me: “You’re acting different...there’s a wall.”
She kisses me on the head a few times and offers affectionate hugs...then takes off.
...
I’m having a difficult time falling back to sleep. Feeling unsatisfied...but accepting the logistics of what just happened.
Alarm goes off at 11:08 a.m.
[Text Message]
Margot: “I’m sorry if you felt I was acting weird. I wasn’t trying to. I love you but we need to get back on track with that ‘no contact’ thing.”
Orange Juice.
All day shift at China Wok.
My mom calls to regretfully inform me of the passing of our old cat, Moses. He lived to be about 14 years old. I’m not sure how to feel about this. Moses grew up with me in my teenage years.
[Text Message]
Margot: “I shouldn’t have left this morning. It was one of those decisions I was gonna regret no matter what choice I made. I hope you have a good day at work.”
Me: “i couldn’t fall asleep after you left...maybe only for an hour.”
Her: “I’m sorry. I just wanted to be sleeping in my bed where I wasn’t so hot. And I felt kinda bad being there since we weren’t supposed to be seeing each other.”
Me: “i wanted more of you...but i understand.”
Her: “I mean that’s why I went over there in the first place. But we need to get back on track. Seriously. No more communication till thanksgiving at the earliest. Okay? I love you.”
Me: “i miss having sex with you...”
Her: “I miss that too baby.”
Me: “but yeah i got it. no communication till t-day. i love you too.”
She’s doing a much better job at protecting herself now—avoiding hurtful situations. I’m kind of surprised at her awareness—the maturing and growing. Maybe she’ll turn out to be a woman I can actually look up to and respect, not to say I didn’t respect her before, but I’m certain in some ways I took advantage of my power over her as she did over me. She’s always been a weak person. I hope to see more strength in who she is purge over time.
Peanut Butter Bagel. Potato Chip Trio. Kombucha Tea (Strawberry Serenity).
[Snip]
Snapping the peas.
[Snap]
Delivering an order on Reynard Crescent. Originally the customer told me the address was 1491. I’m on a goose hunt because when I arrive on the street I realize the numbers don’t go that far. Frustrated because the customer’s phone number isn’t working so I can’t find out the correct address. Finally she calls up the restaurant asking where her food is...
Lady: “Oooh! I meant to say 1459. I’m sorry.”
How in the world do you mix those numbers up? She comes in to pick it up and explains she used to stay at 1491. I guess that explains it.
This day drags on and on. IIIIII’’’’’mmmmmm tired.
Ice Cream Cone.
Nicole accompanies me for the last hour of my shift.
Me: “You seem heavy.”
Her: “I am. My brain is just not working.”
We catch up and share relevant thoughts—the forever struggle in the dealings of our respective love relationships that have/are diminishing—how it’s good to feel the walls by the people we’re trying to move on from in person...to get that extra sense of distance you wouldn’t get otherwise if you strictly cut off all contact, which I think is better.
Off-topics on what makes a hipster a hipster for this day and age.
Me: “Aesthetics are important for me. They always have been.”
She takes an interest in astrology and moon signs. And finds hers to be oddly dead on. I’m a Leo with a Scorpio moon sign. And mine is strangely accurate as well...
“The Moon in Scorpio folks intuitively understand many things which are secret or hidden. They can make mysterious, deep impression on the other people, as if mesmerizing those of the opposite gender. However, to achieve harmony in their relationships, they need to teach themselves how to most harmlessly unload the disturbing, dark component of their energy, and that's not easy. Sex is the most natural way for them to unwind, and satisfying sexual life is a must for the Lunar Scorpios. Another way to harmonize inner energy which many of them appreciate is to soak in a very hot water - so hot, that most people would consider it intolerable.” [i]
Tofu and Mixed Vegetables in Garlic Sauce with Rice.
Back home...I find the downstairs is a wreck—it’s as if a tornado just plowed through. Apparently some of my roommates decided that before they went drinking at Mermaids, they would get LIVE and leave a mess first.
Stephanie shows up for the spliff she left in my car last night.
Sipping on a Rum/7up drink. We’re in my room chatting and making fun of each other for a long time—and having serious talks about people and ambitions in life; finding that perfect city, that perfect environment to cater to your attitude. She’s still fascinated by Toronto and how cute everything is there. It’s possible she could convince me to move there, at least for a time. I find Stef pleasing to be around—her little “POSI” diet she professes to strive for rather than a “NEGA” diet—her fabulous style of dress—her ambitious go-getter demeanor and overall spunkiness; it’s all very attractive, something I admire and find myself allured to, but only as an undertone, a back-of-the-mind awareness saying hey robert, she could be a good candidate for a creative partner, or possibly a lover? But she’s surrounded by her own prerogatives...her own ventures...her own lovers...and this is only a conjecture, nothing more...too soon.
Reflecting...
Researching...
A solo sexual release is no competition for the real thing but the imagination is powerful.
Slumber 4 a.m.
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