On Sunday a boy I’ve been seeing briefly had a birthday. People in their 20’s still celebrate birthdays. I know, weird. Anyway, I’d emailed him supportively on the Friday, then texted him on the big day. I didn’t call because I slept in, having worked the night before, and I had to scramble to the train station for yet another gig on Sunday eve. But truly, I was looking for a lazy way out of a relationship that wasn’t right, and I thought, subconsciously, not calling is just the ticket.
I tried to explain this diplomatically today, again via email, but maybe I was lying. Maybe I just didn’t feel like talking to anybody on the phone that Sunday. I might have weakened, or wilted. This runner stumbled, and I didn’t even drop the phone, I just never even picked it up.
The following I’ve only just received, from him, as my penance. (He’s Irish.)
“Scott your so pseudo american- its beyond nauseating. your rhetoric sounds like BAD Oprah. You can justify this or that till the cows come home but you don’t have to be married to someone to pick up the fucking fone and be a decent human being on the most basic of friendship levels. It doesn’t matter how many self help tapes you listen to on your trips about the place to make yourself feel better or how many vitamins you pop or how many yogic stretchs you think your making the fact remains your still capable of being very much below par when it comes to personal relations no matter how you try to dress it up.
And the wonderful thing is your completely immune to this email because your devoid of caring about anyone but yourself…
I doubt your “me” tour will ever be over.. your behaviour sucks and its a pity you can’t nurture friendship more. Fixing your nose is one thing but man fix your attitude toward people. At this rate you’ll end up alone with your retainer and even more stds to add to your collection.
See you around!”
Now, I’m not saying that none of this is true. There’s an element of selfishness in everyone’s life. And I do sort of hate my nose. What amazes me is that he thinks, after seeing each other three times, that he knows me. it’s just so creepy. We spent so much time with him talking about how wonderful we were together, how right he was for me, that I was embarrassed and self-conscious. He talked to me like a trick, and barebacked me like one too, but when it came to intimacy, I might as well have been hanging out with Tori Spelling.
Why doesn’t anyone want to court anymore? All his anger is about something else, obviously, which is probably the fact that I wasn’t in love with him. How could I be? I DIDN’T KNOW HIM. Can’t we just have a few laughs and see what happens? Does it all have to be hectic and rushed, like it’s the first and last blow job he’ll ever give? Maybe I missed something. Maybe the world is coming to an end, and he was my final chance for happiness. Or maybe he’s nuts.
I mean, in paragraph two, he uses ‘your’ for ‘you are’. Crazy.
And sweet. Man, he must really be head over heels. Too bad I don’t feel the same. But I can get my heels over my head.