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2002-11-05 - 11:46 p.m. "and now my fears, they come to me in threes..." - the strokes "he's so shy/ that sweet little boy who caught me eye" - the pointer sisters now playing: rye coalition - on top last night, we went out to this hole in the wall for drinks, and it happened. you know....IT. the quicksand shit. it had been so long too. we're trying to get our drink on, and the bartender asks what i'll have, and i ask for a 7&7, and she can't hear me, and asks me to repeat myself, and i say it again, and she says, "still can't hear you, hon". so, i blush, shake my head, mumble something even more unintelligible, and slink away from the bar. when i walk back to our booth empty handed, matt asks what's up, and i shrug, shake my head. since when i'm in the midst of my bullshit, i can't be "normal" until it's run its course. so, he sidles over to me, and whispers, "are you alright?" i shake my head. he asks, "7&7, right?" i shake my head. he gets my drink, comes back, watches me take a drink, and blush at his attention. it's a routine i've got down. the mumble, blush, stutter, shoe gaze thing. he doesn't say a word about any of it, and eventually, i start to answer him with actual words. afterwards, in bed, he asks me what happened. i pulled away, mumbled, "nothin'", and he pulled me back, rolled on top of me, and made me tell him. so, i did. then, before he got started, i told him that i didn't wanna talk about it, and pulled away again, a little more roughly than i meant to. he let me go. i felt his breath on my neck when he whispered, "sorry". yes, i felt like shit, but, i didn't want to talk, and when i don't want to talk, you don't ask/expect me to. it ain't gonna happen. i'm one stubborn fuckin' son of a bitch. it sucked pretty bad, cuz we had just had sex, and things shoulda been nice, and the afterglow, and all that business. instead, it's like, tense, and stuff. this morning, i apologised, and we screwed around some more. where does it end/begin? should he have just left me alone? should i have tried to explain myself better? should he back off? should i open up? neither? both? fuck if i know. does sharing a house, a bed, a life, mean sharing EVERYTHING? in other news: things are back to normal. no more funtabulous shows, and no more dressing up to go out, and no more rock 'n' roll hi-jinx. back to work. back to the grind. suckiness. thank god for this thing, cuz i'd never get this stupid sort of stuff out otherwise...goodnight |
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