more of a situational wreck

Friday September 13, 1996
10:15am, train

What helps me to feel better and what makes me better? The 7th Avenue D train station buzzes. I’m buzzing on my way to Judith’s. What an intense relationship. How scary. To feel condemned by her is a terrible thing. Not that she’s going to generally endorse everything I do, but jeez, she could be more tender, gentle, or nice.

So, I’ve been keeping myself pretty cooked. I did a lot of dozing yesterday, sleeping, being terrified of noises in the apartment, mostly prone in bed. Feeling better, but still pretty low. I keep staring off into space, which feels better than this. So, I can’t indulge myself if it’s going to mean self-loathing, and I have to chill out and not broadcast quite so much at work.

Thinking back to my second or third day there, meeting with Josh, Galinsky, and the other guys, how pleased I was to learn, how pleased I still am.

Sex. Sex is a self-punishing way to comfort myself right now. Today, I just want to talk about Ted. The circumstances around our first few dates, the anger and loathing and impatience and disgust and simultaneous attachment and respect. The sex required that I pay total attention to him and his needs and ignore my own. I did it, at first, and I played along. But, as Judith kindly reminds me, I was a total wreck.

So now I’m more of a situational wreck and even the wreckage is not so great as it once was. I can cope.

Later, work

Judith used words like shitty and abysmal to describe my behavior. Stop the nonsense. Okay, I’m trying. No masturbating or fantasizing, even.

Think about Ted. Think about getting together Saturday morning for brunch in the park, or Sunday. About what it would feel like to enjoy his company again, feel happy and good around him.

Got high this morning. I guess I feel like Judith gave me permission to smoke my brains out, rather than have sex. Thinking this morning how much pressure I felt to have sex with Ted How his absent kisses made me furious. Do I admit to him how angry I’ve been? That I was automatically expected to hang out with his friends full-time, but around my friends and family, he was a clam. It’s so confusing. I know I still genuinely loved him. Or did I? Was I faking it the whole time?

Made things better with Galinsky yesterday after he told me he felt like I was poisoning him. Why, because I want to get the job done? Stomach a little tight. Almost out of pot. Already tense. Too tense. Maybe I could write or think about something besides myself.

This sucks. I hate Judith. These books are just full of Judith, Judith, Judith. Don’t I have any, any, anything? I guess not. I guess I’ve just been fucked up and shitty and abysmal my whole life and have never had a rational thought or action. I’ve been crazy. I am crazy. That’s it. That’s the excuse. And so, I’m calm, or I call this calm until I read it later.

Things with Frank are up in the air anyway. He’s always hiding behind work, can’t grab lunch the way we used to before, not sure when he’s leaving at night, pretty busy this weekend.

Spyro came by the other day to give me the tape of the show I did with his band, and Frank passed by as we were bullshitting for a minute at the reception desk. Then later when I stopped by his office to see when he wanted to get dinner, he said he couldn’t get together because he had a date. This again.

I walked away and went about my business for the next hour or two but my hands were shaking and I wanted to hit something. Kept arguing with him in my head: Do you know what I’ve given up for you? Do you have any idea the stress and guilt I’m taking on to do this with you? Do you think you’ll ever have another chance with me again after this?

Finally called his extension around 5 and asked, Does your sudden “date” have anything to do with my platonic friend Spyro, who has been my friend and only my friend for the past three and a half years, dropping off a tape for me?

He asked if I could come by his office and we discussed it. He confessed that once again he didn’t actually have a date, he just felt freaked out by the strength of his feelings for me, and he feels like he needs to protect himself somehow, and he’s sorry but he doesn’t know where things stand with us, and he’s got so much to lose because he doesn’t let himself feel this way for people, and blah blah blah.

I’m glad we talked it out, but I don’t know if it’s really resolved. He said he feels weird about me still spending time with Ted, even though I told him Ted and I are through, we’re breaking up, I’m not intimate with him anymore. But he slept at your place the other night.

I felt like saying, what do you want from me? I’m breaking up with him, okay? You don’t go from being in a year-long committed relationship with someone, sleeping next to each other regularly, talking every day, to nothing right away. This is hard for me, Frank said, and I thought, for you? I’m the one stabbing my best friend in the heart.

Since he didn’t actually have a date, we went to dinner at Lucky Strike, talking about the office, then back to his place. He was still being a little withholding and pouty. I didn’t want to have to coax him into anything, I wanted him to coax me, like he’d been doing on and off for the past two months. I felt ravenous, pulling myself on top of him, grinding through our jeans, until he forgot about pouting and finally fucked me, thank Jesus Lord.

Afterwards things were better. He was staring at my face, tracing one finger along my cheeks, lips, chin. I wanted to stay the night but I knew it was too soon for that. Also needed to take care of the cats, also didn’t want to show up at work in yesterday’s clothes. Also had the sense that if I stayed the night and had to get up to pee at 5 a.m,. I would have absolutely no idea where I was, maybe I’d think I was at Ted’s for a second, and I’d get freaked out.

When I started to get up and get dressed he got moody again, though he’ll never admit it, he keeps the grin on his face no matter what. He already knows how to make me feel guilty. Or I know how to make me feel guilty about him already. I don’t know what to feel guilty about most or first.

What about Frank is so attractive to me, what inspires my feelings of desire? I don’t even know. He’s smart and funny, and he’s got that incredible body. Is that enough? When I brought him over to Hil’s last week I could see her sizing him up, his polo shirt and baseball cap, his toothy white smile. Once again, too square, not her type at all. Also, he doesn’t smoke pot, which makes him suspect. What kind of weirdo doesn’t smoke pot?

Ultimately though I think she liked him well enough. And I like him more than enough. I like how much be likes me. I do wonder sometimes how much of our feelings for each other have to do with our job. Like, we both love the job so much, but we can’t have sex with it, so we’ll use each other?

I wish I would let myself off the hook and give me a little room to breathe between men. I wish men would give me a little room. I’m so squeezed. Nobody’s fault but my own.