Ernst met me at the hotel the other day so that I could return his jacket. Slowly he talked me into talking about my problems and then untangled them one by one. George thing went first.
“Just think about the things that you hate about him, physically,” Ernst said he’d read about this method in a book. I mean, isn’t it obvious already.
“One ball. He’s only got one ball.” That’s the first thing that came to mind, and then his crooked tooth and his old man smile. No sooner had my head come up with such spontaneous imagery flaws than I realized that those were also things I liked about him, what made him the dork I fell for in the beginning.
These days, I’ve been feeling insecure more than ever. I’d thought that I could put the career issues aside to focus a bit more on myself and the relationship. Unexpected turns has lead it to the point where I think all of my efforts during the last 20 months have gone to waste.
Standing on this verge, I felt like I could break down at any moment, especially while driving, probably because I always feel invisible driving (even when it’s a motorbike). It’s ok to shed a few tears when you’re invisible. But even while being on the road, phoniness is still what I see all around, and in me.
There have been a few moments with Fiji Bear that were bright, like today he cooked noodles with bacon again and criticizing my frequently used seasoning. The other day I bought us tickets to see Regression. But somehome, and it would be really unfair to say this, I never felt enough. There was always something that said this wasn’t enough. Or maybe I’m just too greedy.
I know this one thing that could work wonder. Sex. I want to embark on those sexual adventure I used to do again since I know such a thrill can arise from meeting a total stranger, playing the spy game, spotting each other in a crowd, exploring hotels around town, creating fake backside story, having wild sex, and then just vanishing. One more added to the collection of lovers.
But it’s not right.