September 22, 2013
At work Thursday night, my mom stopped by to bring me some gnocchi for supper. mmmmmMMMMMMMmmmmm fucking mmmm. When she was leaving, she gave me a hug and kiss before she left, passing Shannon as she was also coming in to see me during a spontaneous visit. She asked if that woman was my other girlfriend. I was like what??!!!??? noooooo wtf what?! that’s my mom. She said sorry, she just knew I had an old gf at some point. But I was distracted by the “other” girlfriend comment, although I guess it essentially doesn’t matter. As long as I openly admit, like I’ve done with Iona, that I don’t want to be in a committed relationship, I can be with other girls. Yet, with Shannon being her friend, that’s tricky. Plus, I don’t know what she wants from me because she’s starting to act like she wants something more than that one night.
After she left the store, Sharly was like, isn’t that your girlfriend’s friend? I explained that Iona and I aren’t committed in that way, we can go with other people if we want. But I said, yeah, that’s her friend with the nice tits, I fucked her last night.
Sharly shook her head and told me she didn’t like that kind of talk, I should speak respectfully about that girl or any girl I have sex with. I didn’t think I was being disrespectful, but I figured she just meant the language. I changed it to “that’s Iona’s hot–make that, attractive friend, we had sex.” Sharly asked what her name was, I said Sharon. Then I rephrased the statement.
“That’s Iona’s friend Sharon. We had intercourse. Intercourse–fornicated. We fornicated last night. Conjugated. Conjugated? We conjugated last night. No, consortium. Ok. That’s Iona’s friend Sharon–no, ok I got it. That’s Iona’s friend Sharon, we engaged in coitus last night.”
“You know I’m only partly messing with you.”
Then I told her that girl was a little raunchy herself. I was holding and playing with Gary Oldman (II) and she says, “I love how you handle your pussy.” My response was, “May I help you?” as I turned to address the man near her ready to make a purchase.
Anyway, Sharly invited me out to have coffee for Friday night after work, she had some things she wanted to talk to me about. She told me to be prepared because she might ask some personal questions, but that I’m not obligated to answer them. As she was walking away, I said, “Shannon.”
Sharly turned, “What?”
“Shannon. Her name’s Shannon, not Sharon.”
Sharly laughed and went to the back room.
So Friday night after work we went to a coffee shop. Sharly wanted to talk to me about my sex life, but not so directly. I didn’t know where she was headed with the conversation, but she did have a point.
“So how many girls have you slept with?”
I had no clue, none whatsoever, 100? maybe? Is that bad?
“Why do you sleep with so many girls?”
“Well, it’s sex, after all.”
“I mean, why don’t you get involved with any of them.”
“I don’t feel that way about them.”
“Yep. And I got involved with Paula. I tried it. But I hurt her, so it’s not worth it if I’m not sure how I feel going in. Going in, that’s not a pun.”
Sharly shook her head, unsurprised at that vulgar humor. Then she asked me why I thought so many girls wanted to sleep with me and if I felt I could get any woman I wanted.
I was like, “I have no idea.” Then I put my hand on hers as she held her coffee and said, “Well, I can’t get any woman,” and winked at her, just teasing.
“You’re something else Grimm.”
“I’ve heard that before.”
But she went onto explain that she thinks girls want more than sex from me, but that’s the only way they can get me, so they take what they can get. She said unfortunately a lot of girls like the badboy.
“I’m a bad boy?”
She laughed, “Not a bad boy, a badboy, you know what I mean, you’re so cheeky.”
I said that what she was trying to explain reminded me of Steppenwolf which I’ve resumed reading. I carry the book with me in case I can read a page or two at various moments. More if there are no distractions or interruptions. I opened the book and cited this passage:
“There were those, however, who loved precisely the wolf in him, the free, the savage, the untamable, the dangerous and strong, and these found it peculiarly disappointing and deplorable when suddenly the wild and wicked wolf was also a man, and had hankerings after goodness and refinement, and wanted to hear Mozart, to read poetry and to cherish human ideals.”
She said, “exactly.” But I asked her what her point was in all this and why she took me out to coffee specifically to have this conversation. She said that she cared about me, and she felt that I was lonely, and she also knows how I feel about Emma. According to Sharly, the excerpt from the book was accurate because I am both those things, and that all the girls I go with like the wolf, but that Emma would like the man. I’ve tried to be that man, but as Sharly puts it, only with Emma. Emma’s seen no evidence of that man in any circumstance apart from my attempts at appealing to her. Sharly says I need to be that man because it’s in my nature, and it’s in my desire, not for the sole purpose of getting Emma. She said then there would be the threat that Emma would fall short, and the gratification short lived once I had her, regardless how I feel, Emma would always feel that way. I tried to explain that Emma has known me for a long time, so she should know better. But Sharly asked, “does she really know you?” And I didn’t have an answer for that.
I guess essentially Sharly’s right in many ways and I am like a wolf of the Steppes. Because I don’t like to conform to the trudgery of every day life, there’s something inside me that needs fulfillment, something empty that I can’t tap into. I focus on Emma because she is symbolic of the man I want to be, yet the wolf in me abhors that man and fights against it, fights against me. And so I have plans to go back to college next semester, going through the enrollment process currently. I am attempting conformity and stability but it does feel forced, and my only motivation is Emma. I suppose otherwise I’d be satisfied to be a loser for another couple of years, until I get so discouraged with myself I change my ways, or go back to drugs, or just kill myself out of frustration and boredom.
Sharly gave me a lot to think about. She’s a good woman, and probably my best influence in my life at this time. I don’t even know why she cares so much, or has given me so many chances to prove myself and be responsible. She must see something in me that I don’t even know is there.
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