really did act atrociously

May 26, 1995, bed

I can’t really believe my life right now, which is probably a good thing. Jackson and I are apart. I want to put that in quotes, but I should actually put it in truthful terms. Jackson and I are over, at least, for this round.

But I’m not done, I told him, and several awful things like that. Yes, I feel romantically about you. Yes, I deliberately see the good in you. He referred to himself as my ex-boyfriend. Sadder than sad.

Yesterday it made me angry to see him slip into pomposity or critical judgment. I kept thinking, I mustn’t let him get me back. He was even wheedling at one point. I guess I just don’t trust him not to hurt me. I don’t want to set myself up. I still have fantasies that we’re together until we’re old.

He asked, Didn’t I want to be Beauvoir to his Sartre? They had an open relationship.

I said, We have one of those now.

In many ways, we had a great time hanging out. I was sad to see him so unhappy, but I guess I would have been hurt if he wasn’t. I think I’m still waiting for him to call and plead with me some more so I can say yes after a long, long trial to see that things have really changed. I would love it if in three months we were hanging out one night, and he seduced me. I love to be seduced, especially by him.

Couldn’t get off thinking about him yesterday before he came over. Took it as a sign not to fuck him. Just couldn’t imagine how things would be during/after, how we’d fret and frown and wonder, what are we in?

Took home Chester Brown last night, which I practically threatened to do. I guess I really did act atrociously. How did that happen when I was trying so hard to stay cool? I’m so sad right now.

Jackson felt our relationship was doomed. It wasn’t any good. It couldn’t last. He doesn’t even care if I fuck somebody else. He knows it releases him and he’s happy. He couldn’t take the pressure of being with me.

I’m glad I said some of the things I did, like, my behavior doesn’t occur in a vacuum. And when he said he had to put up with a lot of behavior he shouldn’t have been subjected to, I said, well me, too. And he knew I was right. God, I’m still arguing with him like it’s solvable.

I feel like I’ve been kicked out of my home. I felt like I had found a safe place. I sang him Lou Rawls, “You’ll Never Find.” I told him I remembered many good nights and mornings with him in his bed. He probably feels so relieved to have gotten rid of me.

Jackson doesn’t even care if I fuck somebody else. He knows it releases him and he’s happy. He couldn’t handle my behavior. I have to make some phone calls.

Chester Brown. Jesus. Could have been worse, at least he’s benign. He delivered the line, “You’re too beautiful to have to cry,” which was exactly what he’d been hired for. Ava calls him “Bambi,” or “the widdle widdle,” the way he bats his lashes. He is a lowercase poet. Really it was comic. The sex part was cursory, idiotic grappling in the lowest sense. It’s the perfect aversion therapy, now I’ll really relish being alone.

“The sun is being very sunny today.” – Chester Brown

Chester is so obvious. It would have shown much more maturity and better taste to have just flown it alone. I think I cried three times, twice Friday night in bed, again this morning. How can the sight of me crying over Cam possibly be erotic? He danced around naked and told me about Chester in High School. I was somewhat diverted and charmed. He has good stories but he works them. This morning I couldn’t wait for him to go. I actually said I had to get work done. At ten a.m. on a Saturday, what a joke.

Spent all day moping degenerately and feeling smug and ridiculous. I whispered Jackson’s name into Chester’s neck. God, that was stupid, all around. The sex was stupid and fruitless, and okay at best. I wonder if it made me feel better. I told Chester I feel like a Tennessee Williams play, and I do, in my red robe, with my dirty dishes. I’m trying to put it behind me.

I can’t believe how together I am. I bet taking that Valium right after he left helped a bunch.

All I can write these days is the truth.

(To read the girl bomb diaries in chronological order, click here.)