worth doing badly
I’m getting drunk tonight, at home, by myself, with a bottle of wine that Julie and Melissa brought when they moved me here. It’s just that kind of evening.The daytime temperatures are dipping into the sixties and the branch ends of the maples are starting to turn, and here’s fall, which doesn’t usually make me sad. But I soak up emotions around me and people around me are heavy with it. I feel more sad than heavy. Not the bad kind of sad. There aren’t enough words for the different kinds of sad in English.
I went to my old house this week, because my old housie Dubya called to tell me there was mail. Big fat mail that turned out to be Benefits. Benefits should cheer one up but the old house was hard. Figs and grapes that were not mine, and stairs where I used to like to sit. My new house does not have conversation on the porch, or pots of tea, or anything to make jam with. For all my talk of tomatoes it turned out to be too shady here. No one reads at all.
And I fear I’m doing it again, falling for a guy who doesn’t have it in him to fall back, and I swear that as far as I can tell I’m not subconsciously seeking this. Jamey once told me that my problem (and he was good at identifying other people’s problems, a dubious gift I wish I didn’t share) was that I mostly like everyone, and consequently keep falling for pussies. This is not entirely untrue. I do not like everyone, but I do have a certain softness for pussies with potential. I suppose it’s because I’m one of them.
So here I am at the end of September shoring myself up for a new lot of disappointment, trying to figure out if I should be honest and get squashed or be safe and... be safe. Safe is pointless but squashed is getting old and I don’t like this run I’m on. The last person who told me he loved me delivered it like bad news, held it like an unwelcome weight. And I feel this coming on the way you feel a cold in the back of your throat, not bad yet but getting worse and inevitable, and I wonder if I have it in me just now, to think someone is fabulous and have him think I’m... fine. I’m tempted to cut and run.
I won’t, of course. I’ll take it in the chin and I won’t even tell me I told me so. I will hope all along that it goes another way.
I will at some point figure out what I’m doing that keeps playing out this way. I am open to suggestions. I am open to Whatever Happens Next. I am opening a second bottle.
posted by tortaluga @ 11:30 PM
1 Comments:
SHIT!
shit shit shit
shit
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