The chiming…so soothing…
The caressing…and attempt at physical approximation, with tender kisses.
Then? The pivotal moment!
“Weren’t you just snoring, like, two seconds ago?”
Have I been here before?
Every atom of my body ached. Deeply.
They were pushed into a chaotic motion
Further pushing me into a fleeting moment of deception.
I wanted to cry
I wanted to say things
I wanted to understand
So, I just got up, poured myself some fermented local grape juice
There was also the music
And then it hit my consciousness
Ouch! What the fuck is this?
What, in this shitty moment just happened?
Utterly unnecessary and childish handling of circumstances
Horrible choice of words.
This is not on me. Without a doubt.
I made my decision at that very moment of clarity!
This is it! I have been working on this for quite a while now.
Put it in practice.
Own your emotions! And suck it the fuck up!
Let him deal with his own!
No attempt at dissecting the complexities of other human experiences and their baggage
Especially when there is not much material to dissect
No words, no feedback, no gestures
Just rushing out of cars and walking…while I try to catch up
Walking into doors as they slam shut on my face, while carrying climbing backpacks
And then…he comes…
Said something I couldn’t hear with all that eardrum damaging music
I pulled one ear piece off, and then I heard…
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?”
Humm…yes, I want to fuckin’ talk about what just happened! You motherfuckin’ childish selfish idiot! <humanly angry, but silent thought to myself>
Instead, there was a culmination of everything I have been working on myself for the past few years…
<Deep silent soul breath>
A full realization that some of what I was feeling was ON me, and on me only to deal with.
With the simultaneous realization that he is unprepared for me.
It has nothing to do with not wanting to have sex with me. Not desiring me. <for as shitty as it feels to be on the receiving end of it>
More to do with his behavior and projection to the world.
A projection that is fundamentally dissonant from his true self.
He is a good guy…really…but trying too hard to his own demise.
Show yourself man! It’s completely alright! You’re good!
Good enough anyways…after all, aren’t we all just good enough?
I said: “There’s not much to talk about…right?
…I wanted to have sex with you, you didn’t want to have sex with me…I got up, grabbed some wine, my iPod, and am here…
Music soothes me…
You are the one who came here to talk. You must have something to say.”
He said: “I have something to say, but I am not sure what it is yet.”
Sassi: “That seems to happen a lot. I’m not surprised.”
Sassi: “Ok, if you are not going to say anything I will put my earphones back on and listen to music. I am not kidding. I think it’s rude to do it, which is why I am sharing it with you.”
Lashes: “It’s not rude, it’s ok. I will talk, after I roll this cigarette, put my pants and jacket on. <Lashes came out in his boxers only, and it was a chilly night>”
Sassi: “It’s rude. I don’t like being rude to people. In fact, I try my best to be as nice as I can to people. ALL THE TIME. TO A FAULT! If there’s somebody you can talk to, who will be completely non-judgmental about whatever…well…that’s me. Even though you seem to think I’m very judgmental.
Listen Lashes, you and I have known each other for just a few weeks. You could not possibly have that much of an impact on me. What were you expecting? For me to be mad at you right now? I’m fine really. It happens…it’s ok. You should know I am quite happy being on my own. Dangerously happy, that is. So, I’ll be fine.
All I know is that I’m in Mallorca, I’m having fun. I’ll be here for another week, and then I go back to Boston. I don’t want this to be a big deal. AT ALL. I feel bad because I know you like traveling, relaxing…so I hope this doesn’t change that for you. I want you to have relaxing fun. Let’s just hang out. Seriously.”
Lashes: <replying to my comment on the impossibility of him having so much of an impact on me> Well, I could have an impact on you…it’s possible. I was expecting you to be a bit mad at me…yes.”
Sassi: “No, I am telling you, you don’t have that much of an impact on me. I know how I feel. I am responsible for how I feel, and only how I feel. You are responsible for how you feel. I am truly not mad at you. Why would I be?”
<more silence. Lashes finishes rolling his cigarette. Puts his pants and jacket on. Comes back out. And is still silent>
Sassi: “Ok, Lashes, you have rolled your cigarette, you are fully dressed, now…TALK!”
Lashes: <very paused speech> “Well…You put a lot of words in my mouth. I feel like you respond negatively to everything I try to tell you. You fire back very quickly, every time. I’m not sure if you do it because you’re reacting negatively to what I’m saying, of if you are just trying to incite more conversation. I think we just communicate very poorly.”
Sassi: “Wow…that’s the first time I am hearing this about how I respond in conversation. But I’ll take it. It is your experience with me, and that’s what matters. First of all, I’m sorry if I made you feel this way. It was not my intention. People usually feel quite comfortable talking to me, so I’m not sure what’s happening here. But you’re right, there were a few times that I did it to incite more conversation. You don’t talk a whole lot, and it’s my only way to get to know you a bit more.”
Lashes: “Yes, I feel like I have to qualify and contextualize most of what I tell you. I probably do this more than most people to begin with, but it seems to happen more with you.”
Sassi: “I think a lot too. Just so you know, like you, I also am used to being on my own most of the time. It’s like 90%. No, more like 95% of alone time, and 5% of blahhhhhh. But when I’m hanging out, I don’t think too much before I talk. I’m relaxing. I talk a lot about crap that doesn’t matter. Most of the time, I am not serious. I am only serious when I need to be. These days, I’m more the type that thinks ‘if you like me, you like me…if you don’t, there’s not a whole lot I can do’, so I usually don’t try too hard (i.e.; qualify what I say)…trying too hard is exhausting. I think I’m getting there. It’s a work in progress.”
Lashes: “The brilliance and danger of a bag of rolling tobacco is that you never seem to run out. You just keep rolling the cigarettes. It’s never ending.”
<As I’m struggling to roll a cigarette, in the dark. Lashes offers me the cigarette he just rolled.>
Sassi: “Thanks. I can roll my own. There’s something about the process that I really like.”
<we smoke a few more cigarettes, in silence. I was really hoping for Lashes to say more things, but he didn’t.
Loud trash trucks in the distance>
Lashes: “I guess the music you are listening to, sounds better than the trash trucks.”
Sassi: “Yes, a little bit. Well…Thank you for coming out to talk, or not talk. I didn’t come out here expecting you to follow me. I thought you were just going to pass out. Seriously. But thank you. It helps. Now, go back to sleep!”
Lashes: “I will, but I want to finish this smoke.”
<He finished. Remained silent. Sat there for another while, and then got up. It was a cloudy chilly night. The breeze was very nice.>
Lashes: “So, how are we doing this? Do you want me to sleep on the other bed, are you going back to our bed…”
Sassi: “No…you can go back to the room we were sleeping in before. I will figure something out. Don’t worry.”
And off he went. I listened to more music. Found myself a warm and cozy blanket to wrap myself in, and I saw the sunrise from the deck of our Mallorcan apartment.
The next day…as promised…we hung out without any obvious tension. We climbed for hours and hours, and then had a wonderful steak dinner.