kiwifruit's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You Can't Always Get What You Want ... But if YouTry Sometimes ... Sunday night, 7pm, at the office ... I am biding my time until the season finale of Sex and the City. I can get lost in fantasy. You know, the fantasy where all these fabulous, smart, single women live in NYC and date men who aren't good enough for them. They make silly decisions, smoke and drink too much, overspend on clothes. When relationships inevitably go awry, they lean on each other and try to laugh at the pain. Oh ... Chirst. That IS my reality. Only my apartment isn't as nice, and I don't have ONE pair of Manolos or ONE Fendi purse (well a fake - but this I am not proud of). How was my weekend? Well ... my eyes are a bit puffy from crying, my stomach a bit puffy from booze. Here goes it ... Friday night: Friday night! And what do D and I do?!!? We sit at home and watch chick flicks and drink a bottle of champagne from my Birthday. I cry. She tries to ply me with Pirate Booty and chocolate sorbet. Patrick calls - I cry some more. I got three cryptic emails from Patrick on Friday. And this is a man that needs space?!!? No. This is a man who doesn't know what the hell he wants, and in the process he has pushed me into a corner where I feel damned if I do, and damned if I don't. When Kiwi gets pushed in a corner she does one of two things: she curls up in a ball and whimpers, or she gnashes her teeth and attacks back. So I have been alternating the two. And I am not sure which is more important to me ... not looking like a spineless fool who gets walked all over to everyone else in the world, or saving this relationship through patience and understanding (I'm so not good at this). I do know that I love him. And I do know that he loves me (or at least I am pretty sure). I do know we are both scared shitless. And I do know that I am incredibly hurt and angry and sad. And I do know that I have considered (more than once, more than TWENTY times) that the reason this is all happening is because I am not skinny enough, smart enough, open minded enough. Pathetic really I know. Saturday: I go to my writing class during the day. I feel all woogley inside and groggy and antsy. I can barely sit still for the three hours of class (plus I had gotten up at 8:30am to finish my homework - yes, homework for a thirty year old, and I am still procrastinating). Everything I write in class is shit. Yuck. After class it is a gorgeous, sunny Indian summer day and I wander around looking for something to buy to make myself feel better. I find nothing. Patrick's band was playing a benefit thing at Tompkin's Square Park and I wasn't going to go, but he had asked me to go at least four times. I decided it would be worse not to go than to go and see him and want to cry. So D and I go to Leshko's and have a bloody mary and flirt with the cute bartender before we go to give me strength. Patrick calls while we are at the bar, I whine to the bartender about men until D tells me it is time to leave. We get to the park, see the band, see Patrick in an awful outfit and still I am loving him. I meet his sister and her boyfriend and I wonder if she knows what unfortunate timing it is to meet me at this moment. I am sure I look like I have been through the ringer, and I am sure she knows it is her brother who has put me there. We all go to dinner and I try and act like everything is fine. Patrick keeps putting his hands on me (reassurance?). But still it is all very strange, and Patrick is not himself really and I don't know if it is because he is trying to entertain his sister or he is freaked out about me (probably both). Meanwhile, D is all giddy because she has a new man, and I am trying to be happy for her but I end up sounding like a wicked old witch because it wasn't so long ago that everything with Patrick and I looked all rosy and wonderful and now our relationship is a mess. So basically I was trying to navigate the grounds safely with Patrick all weird and D all goofy and sloppy about Mr. New Guy, it was exhausting. Basically over the course of a week Patrick has managed to see every negative characteristic I have, and vice-versa. I knew he wasn't perfect, but now I see his faults, and his baggage and all that other happy horse shit and it is like a smack in the face. All a part of getting to know someone I guess, but in the face of such indecision on his part it is very discouraging, I often want to run in the other direction screaming. Run straight into the arms of some guy I don't love who I can wrap around my finger and then lead a happy existence of mediocrity. Yuck. Bad Kiwi, bad. Between the two of us, we have so much baggage travelling light will never be an option. Later on we go to two parties, I am feeling in the depths of misery now because Patrick has tried to explain himself and only made me feel a hundred times worse. Everyone at the parties is watching us like a bomb about to go off. I hate how they are all drawn to our flailing, like people who have to slow down to get a glimpse of a car wreck. We get home late and Patrick plays the Stones "You Can't Always Get What You Want", which I think is terribly funny and sad at the same time. We go to bed. We have amazing sex. Sunday: Wake up at 8:30, toss and turn, cry. Wake up at 10:30 - have amazing sex again. Try to leave, Patrick wants to know why I won't hang out with him for the day. Mom calls - tells me that The Feet (remember him?) has a big article in the NY Times Sunday Magazine entitled "Why We Split" about him and his soon to be ex-wife. Choke. I try to leave Patrick's around ten times, I take his keys off my key ring, I pace. We talk for another hour - he tells me he is scared of commitment. I mention maybe he should have thought of this BEFORE he acted like the most wonderful, amazing man on the face of the earth and told me he loved me (he said it first!). He says he knows I am amazing, he knows he doesn't want to lose me. I tell him he isn't really going about things in a wise way if that is truly the case. He doesn't understand why I am so freaked out. I want to punch him. And on and on and on. I UNDERSTAND his fear. I know it has to do with all sorts of past shit and so on ... Here is my biggest fear ... what if he sleeps with someone else while I am waiting for him to figure stuff out and being all patient and nice? What if? Now the logic side of me says that this could happen at any time, with or without a "commitment" - I know this to be true. So really, if it's going to happen it is going to happen, and there isn't diddly squat I can do about it. There is never anything we can do about it (unless you believe everything you read in Cosmopolitan Magazine - in that case you would assume that great sex, a few home cooked "sexy" dinners, and leopard print lingerie could keep a man faithful). Isn't that the scary part? That no matter what you do in a relationship you are also depending on another human being and you have no real control over what they do. There are no guarantees. (Oh balls, I HATE no guarantees). Scary shit, this love thing. So anyway, we hash things out for another hour or so, and by then we are tired of listening to our whiney voices. We walk downtown, I go to D's to shower and change (two rounds of wild sex remember) and he goes to his studio. We meet at Odessa for brunch/lunch/dinner. I buy the NYTimes to ogle the picture of The Feet in it. Patrick has a brush with near death as some Meatheads try and jump a gay man standing next to him, he comes into the diner looking horrified and near tears. After brunch we go Tompkins Square Park again and lie in the sun. We talk some, we have moments of absolute happiness, then I remember that everything is all screwy. We run into Industrial Boy in the park say hello, make small talk. I wonder if Patrick knows about our little fling, and I want to tell him to make him jealous and insecure, but I don't. He asks me if I am going to come see him DJ tonight and see a friend who is having her Birthday there. I hem and haw - They are more my friends than his. What do I say if someone asks me how we are doing? I don't want to crowd his space and so on ... He counters all these things and then he says "I would really like to see you there." and that is all he had to say. Feck. I love this jerk. 21:05:02 - 2000-10-15 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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