Ok, so it wasn't even Halloween yet when I wrote this... this is Tuesday morning I'm talking about here, and things have already gotten weird... Imagine what Halloween was like and maybe I'll tell you later.
So, it's not even Halloween yet and already all sorts of strange things are happening...
I know, I know, I haven't kept up with the blogging. Sorry. Life happens. I haven't kept up with a lot of things (like bills...) lately. No great surprise that journaling would fall by the wayside.
Let's start with the most recent, shall we? And by that you can judge the less recent past; tell me, have things gotten better or worse?
This afternoon, at a quarter to two, when I should've been on my way to work toting candy corn for the boss (we'll get to that) I was instead in bed. More importantly, I was not in bed alone. It was my bed at least, but that's where the similarities end. The other (obviously nude) occupant was a decently attractive if skinny man holding a crack pipe while porn played on his laptop in the background. He was in fact perched on my pelvic bone at the time. And all the while, I kept thinking, How on EARTH did I get from Point A to Point B?? What happened? Where did this train de-rail?
Now perhaps you're thinking I've dropped my standards just a bit. Well, you'd be wrong. Honestly, he's intelligent, charming, attractive, in the right age bracket and unattached (who wouldn't want such a catch, right?). He has a graduate degree in Biochemistry, he is well-behaved and well-groomed. I swear to God the crack pipe came out of the blue for me. Ok, he was a little tiny bit sketchy. I'll give you that. But we all know I like the crazy, and I was trying to figure out his accent... very Mark Twain, unlike anything I've ever heard before. But he had a car, an apartment, said the right things, did the right things (the rest of the naked time was FUN)..... how was I to suspect things would end up where they did?
From personal experience, borrowing a drug addict has it's pros and cons. Yes, yes, this is not something I should have experience in, and it shouldn't, from a moralizing standpoint, have pros, but it does. Tom with the Camaro in Nevada loved his meth. He adored the ground I walked on and never forgave me for not introducing him to my family, but he also loved his meth when he didn't think he would see me... Problem is, some of those nights, he did see me. And I went home with him like I always did. And I learned something interesting.... if they're too high, they cannot perform, no matter how much they want to. This stands to reason, given the "whiskey dick" phenomenon. But if they're not That high, not only can they perform, but they cannot finish despite wanting to and they really do have the energy to go all night... and long into the morning. It is endless. Really. You become afraid that something important might wear off in the tireless friction. There are bruises and swelling and limping and stumbling and dehydration issues to be minded that are not normally there. They really want to finish and will see a thing through to the end. It is impressive, if later painful. It's actually kind of fun (for the first 4 hours). Thus, if you can limit them somehow to 4 hour or less sessions, it can be very rewarding. But of course, they are not for keeping, no matter how many puppy dog looks they give you. And they are unpredictable. I say this as a woman who knows exactly what to expect from violent psychopaths, manic depressives and schizophrenics; they are unpredictable. Almost anything can induce great paranoia which you do not have the background of trust to deflect. And they will sink to great depths to get another high. Great depths. If they have to use you, steal from you, hurt you, abandon you to do so, they will without much hesitation. Do not be the obstacle between them and their next high.
So we had a good time. And he's going into Rehab soon (he says... he has started packing, that's a good sign) and by the time he gets out, I'll be long gone. The healthy thing to do. It was odd, but not really bad. Just really odd. I really did need to get laid. And I didn't lower my standards too far.
I'm not one for porn either, but whatever. He wanted it and he got it, he just had to bring it himself. It doesn't offend me so greatly that I could not bear to have him play it. I don't care for it, and in a real relationship, it upsets me substantially more than strippers, really, but when one is on a borrowing basis, it is understandable that a man needs more than your occasional and impermanent company. Besides, it's a feather in my cap at least when the porn is playing and no one pays any attention.... there are more pressing things to attend to. The movie could've stopped and we wouldn'tve noticed.
ok, off to bed with me or I'll be a zombie for halloween. more later.