WTF
I think I have lost my mind. I don't know what I'm doing. I guess it was inevitable that I would sleep with him as he's living here. We're not back together, and it was a Christmas quickie. Literally our child woke up seconds into it, and I tensed up. Thank God (pun intended?) we used protection. Ugh.
It all started with watching, "It's Complicated" (Meryl Streep and Steve Martin, Alec Baldwin).... no... it started with a bad judgment call to visit a microbrewery in Bay City last Monday. I ran into the local Hugh Hefner who owns multiple restaurants and clubs... I pulled it out of him that he's had several three-ways in Las Vegas. Some drinks later, he (78 I think) says I should throw my ex a lay. In my drunken subconscious, it seemed like the 1970's attitude, to just extend a fuck out of compassion. My recent frustration has driven this as well, to rationalize it.... and at that point I was determined.
He rubuked my drunken advances, and I spent the day vomitting from self-induced poisoning. There is a potent, self-destructive demon in me. I'd like to romanticize it's akin to Sylvia Plath, some tormented poet, but truly it's more pedestrian street walker than that. There's such a divide between the careless, hedonistic lifestyle of the legends and the mediocre schmuck who's just an addict. I am the schmuck. I have to face it. To face the schmuck is to conquer the schmuck.
Fast forward to Christmas Eve Friday, and I'm watching "It's Complicated", and as a fan of Streep )esp. "Out of Africa", all these parallel's were drawn. Her ex left her for a younger woman, he drives a Porsche, there's a moment of clarity that, "We share these children", then the bait to fall into the trap. I love the moment she reads her own self-analysis of what's driving her to want him back. She's created her own life, the proto-typical sensual woman (!) archetype that is the nurturer and a fabulous cook. The one the audience roots for is Steve, he's not the blatant man-child, connects with her on this deeper, artistically soulful level, and yet there's a nod to what was, of what was important and REAL in her previous marriage.
SO... he went to hug me and we accidently kissed, then this spark.... I went to an AA meeting with his Russian buddy... and then this morning he stood, shadowed, at my door and asked if I wanted to "cuddle". Bullocks!!! Bloody Hell!!! It was so NOT hot. I realize this guy isn't that guy who wants to cook with me, who makes me laugh. He is Mr. Drama, which keeps me grounded in a culture that doesn't take anything seriously, and that idolizes plastic, as George Carlin would say - "turned into a giant shopping mall", he plants so much weight and agony on me that I am falling apart from lonliness. In the movie, Meryl recognized that, "you cheated so I wouldn't have to", and I feel that's it. That I suddenly realized if I draw him back into me I will break his heart, I will break him... another one.
It all started with watching, "It's Complicated" (Meryl Streep and Steve Martin, Alec Baldwin).... no... it started with a bad judgment call to visit a microbrewery in Bay City last Monday. I ran into the local Hugh Hefner who owns multiple restaurants and clubs... I pulled it out of him that he's had several three-ways in Las Vegas. Some drinks later, he (78 I think) says I should throw my ex a lay. In my drunken subconscious, it seemed like the 1970's attitude, to just extend a fuck out of compassion. My recent frustration has driven this as well, to rationalize it.... and at that point I was determined.
He rubuked my drunken advances, and I spent the day vomitting from self-induced poisoning. There is a potent, self-destructive demon in me. I'd like to romanticize it's akin to Sylvia Plath, some tormented poet, but truly it's more pedestrian street walker than that. There's such a divide between the careless, hedonistic lifestyle of the legends and the mediocre schmuck who's just an addict. I am the schmuck. I have to face it. To face the schmuck is to conquer the schmuck.
Fast forward to Christmas Eve Friday, and I'm watching "It's Complicated", and as a fan of Streep )esp. "Out of Africa", all these parallel's were drawn. Her ex left her for a younger woman, he drives a Porsche, there's a moment of clarity that, "We share these children", then the bait to fall into the trap. I love the moment she reads her own self-analysis of what's driving her to want him back. She's created her own life, the proto-typical sensual woman (!) archetype that is the nurturer and a fabulous cook. The one the audience roots for is Steve, he's not the blatant man-child, connects with her on this deeper, artistically soulful level, and yet there's a nod to what was, of what was important and REAL in her previous marriage.
SO... he went to hug me and we accidently kissed, then this spark.... I went to an AA meeting with his Russian buddy... and then this morning he stood, shadowed, at my door and asked if I wanted to "cuddle". Bullocks!!! Bloody Hell!!! It was so NOT hot. I realize this guy isn't that guy who wants to cook with me, who makes me laugh. He is Mr. Drama, which keeps me grounded in a culture that doesn't take anything seriously, and that idolizes plastic, as George Carlin would say - "turned into a giant shopping mall", he plants so much weight and agony on me that I am falling apart from lonliness. In the movie, Meryl recognized that, "you cheated so I wouldn't have to", and I feel that's it. That I suddenly realized if I draw him back into me I will break his heart, I will break him... another one.
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