Journal…July 8th

“I struggled through 3 days of layers, of onion skin moods…
This day I finally figured how to charge my old phone card,
and called him.
He wasn’t home til early afternoon…7 there…I told him…
hmmmm….something…I can’t remember…and he was in a
shit mood, self absorbed, short with me.
I got mad….
“See Ya!”  I said….and hung up.

I felt bad, and after a couple phone conversations,
called him back, and said…

“We promised not to end in anger.”
and he said
“Fuck the Lawyers, let’s talk”…. and we did.

He said at first that he wasn’t sorry he’d told me, just that
he’d told someone who didn’t want the truth, and would
rather live in ignorance…
that actually, he could have never told me….
which didn’t help at all.
In fact, it Really pissed me off.

“Please!  Give me the Respect of letting me go through
3 days of processing, my way…!”  I said…
…emphatically, sternly, clearly.

And the pause let me know that he too was processing…

“It’s not going to happen again…” came the voice, unsolicited.

“Really…?”

“No….. it’s not the way I want to do things…”

“So…what…. you’re telling me…you learned something?”

“Definitely…”

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She thought about the conversations they had had in the last
few days, when he was still high on alcohol, on sex, on
testosterone, on whatever else… and he had tried to
rewrite the definitions of TRUE….
…as in Be True to Me… and
she had found it embarrassing, sad, insulting, self deprecating.

Fortunately for him, he did quickly apologize for breaking the
agreement, which was his discreet and face saving macho
style… and she accepted that.

Her head still spun with these ridiculous patters that went on
like a litany of questions, confrontations… of him and of self…

…what did you get from it, what did it do for you, make you,
give you…was she like me…was she pure…was she a slut…
was she blonde…young, adoring, aloof…what?  what was it?

what was it that turned you on? was she Like me?  something
i wish i could be?  something totally different from me…
…did she inspire you? … what!

In the end, only time and doing things, waiting for the clouds
of confusion and disillusionment to dissipate and pass, allowed
for new skies to form, and created a new palette
upon which to write the future.

 

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