I can't stop thinking about Renee. Her demeanor, her appearance, her smile, how she works at an art gallery, how she handles Natey with a loving ease. She's a captivating woman. I want to do this for her. Not only because she's a single, hard-working mom, but yeah, sure. I want to get to know her better.
Sure, I miss women. I miss sexual contact. Porn only goes so far, especially as it tries to go too far. Egh. I'm sick of video after video of "perfected" female bodies who produce fake baby-talk moans and pants in response to the pig screwing them senselessly. I miss feeling close to a girl I care about, and getting to know her body, each and every part of her I missed the time before, and time before that. Being with her and experiencing each other fully until there is no part of her that goes unnoticed by me.
Porn was not a thing of my day. And it does not reminisce the experiences I had with my girlfriends. Granted, I haven't had one since post college graduation and I'm in my 30's now. However, those relationships were...well, they weren't tame when it came to time in the bedroom.
Thursday, May 10, 2012
Rare- second post of the day.
Later this afternoon after speaking with Bethany, showering, shaving, and scrubbing, guess who comes knocking on my door? Renee and Natey.
Renee was in tight, form-fitting pants and a silky v-neck shirt, cradling Natey on her hip. Her hair was done up in a bun with a few face-framing hairs sweeping her cheeks. Natey was...wide-eyed with drool dripping down his chin, which Renee playfully wiped up with his bib. The whole thing was both disgusting and adorable. Mainly the latter.
Next week she has auctions to attend for the Art Gallery she works at, which conflicts with her sister's schedule who usually watches Natey during the day. So, what does Renee ask me? Insane Renee who's only known me for 15 minutes of our lives, because I flooded out her bathroom? Yeah, that's right. Yup. She asks if I'd mind watching him for a few hours those nights. I didn't even try to conceal my initial, flabbergasted expression. I just stood there shocked, feeling trapped by her appeal and the stupid lies I told her the other night.
So, I told her, I'd check my schedule and get back to her asap. We exchanged numbers, and Natey tried to grab my arm. I did my best to laugh along and seem affectionate without touching him. I think it worked.
Anyway, after this exchange I go to the bathroom, wash my hands, find my phone, and call Bethany. The conversation essentially went like this:
"Bethany, Bethany? Hey! Me again."
"Hey bud, what's going on? Everything ok?"
"Yes...well...sort of."
"What's wrong Marty?"
"Well, you know that woman who lives below me? Whose bathroom I flooded and told I love kids?"
"Yeah, what about it? I thought you said she was cool with it and wasn't expecting you to cover the damage."
"Right, right, well it's not that. She came up here and just left. She asked me if i could babysit her SON a few nights next week."
"Haha oh, oh wow. Oh boy....well look, you don't seem ready for something like that..."
"I KNOW."
"But if you could be, it would be good for you-"
"I KNOW. I just. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."
"You're not ready for something like that."
"Of course not!"
"Well, tell her you have work. Work obligations. She doesn't know you were fired"
"No, but I told her I was on sabbatical...."
"Christ Marty, why? Just, even why?"
"I- I don't know! I said a lot of false things! I had shut myself off for a while and missed social contact. And even with her worn appearance and the sweats she was donning, she looked so cute.She's very attractive and Natey, her kid, is a real charmer."
"Aaahh so there it is. You're attracted to her and want to get to know her."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Look, I say you make something up. Regardless of whether you form and maintain any kind of friendship or relationship with this woman, lies are easier to make up for than going crazy while babysitting her toddler...and if you do that, any kind of contact will be out of the question."
"I know. I ...I want to do it. I just don't know if I can."
Renee was in tight, form-fitting pants and a silky v-neck shirt, cradling Natey on her hip. Her hair was done up in a bun with a few face-framing hairs sweeping her cheeks. Natey was...wide-eyed with drool dripping down his chin, which Renee playfully wiped up with his bib. The whole thing was both disgusting and adorable. Mainly the latter.
Next week she has auctions to attend for the Art Gallery she works at, which conflicts with her sister's schedule who usually watches Natey during the day. So, what does Renee ask me? Insane Renee who's only known me for 15 minutes of our lives, because I flooded out her bathroom? Yeah, that's right. Yup. She asks if I'd mind watching him for a few hours those nights. I didn't even try to conceal my initial, flabbergasted expression. I just stood there shocked, feeling trapped by her appeal and the stupid lies I told her the other night.
So, I told her, I'd check my schedule and get back to her asap. We exchanged numbers, and Natey tried to grab my arm. I did my best to laugh along and seem affectionate without touching him. I think it worked.
Anyway, after this exchange I go to the bathroom, wash my hands, find my phone, and call Bethany. The conversation essentially went like this:
"Bethany, Bethany? Hey! Me again."
"Hey bud, what's going on? Everything ok?"
"Yes...well...sort of."
"What's wrong Marty?"
"Well, you know that woman who lives below me? Whose bathroom I flooded and told I love kids?"
"Yeah, what about it? I thought you said she was cool with it and wasn't expecting you to cover the damage."
"Right, right, well it's not that. She came up here and just left. She asked me if i could babysit her SON a few nights next week."
"Haha oh, oh wow. Oh boy....well look, you don't seem ready for something like that..."
"I KNOW."
"But if you could be, it would be good for you-"
"I KNOW. I just. I DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO."
"You're not ready for something like that."
"Of course not!"
"Well, tell her you have work. Work obligations. She doesn't know you were fired"
"No, but I told her I was on sabbatical...."
"Christ Marty, why? Just, even why?"
"I- I don't know! I said a lot of false things! I had shut myself off for a while and missed social contact. And even with her worn appearance and the sweats she was donning, she looked so cute.She's very attractive and Natey, her kid, is a real charmer."
"Aaahh so there it is. You're attracted to her and want to get to know her."
"I don't know. Maybe."
"Look, I say you make something up. Regardless of whether you form and maintain any kind of friendship or relationship with this woman, lies are easier to make up for than going crazy while babysitting her toddler...and if you do that, any kind of contact will be out of the question."
"I know. I ...I want to do it. I just don't know if I can."
Bethany Knows Best
This morning I finally responded to Bethany's attempts of communication. I picked up her call on the last ring. I broke down and told her everything going on with me.
Getting fired
That being my last straw with myself and my OCD
Cleaning and counting more than usual
Losing sight of myself and what used to make me happy
Missing my family
Cleaning and counting more than usual
So much more-so, I caused a leak
Lying to an innocent woman and offering to care for her baby
...Which Bethany got laughing about pretty hard, to be honest.
She offered to visit. We discussed how maybe her visiting me could be the first step in me getting over my OCD. She's my family, I know her well, am comfortable with her, and I love her. More than those things, i miss her dearly. I miss normalcy and I miss the loved ones i have left.
We're going to really try for this.
Getting fired
That being my last straw with myself and my OCD
Cleaning and counting more than usual
Losing sight of myself and what used to make me happy
Missing my family
Cleaning and counting more than usual
So much more-so, I caused a leak
Lying to an innocent woman and offering to care for her baby
...Which Bethany got laughing about pretty hard, to be honest.
She offered to visit. We discussed how maybe her visiting me could be the first step in me getting over my OCD. She's my family, I know her well, am comfortable with her, and I love her. More than those things, i miss her dearly. I miss normalcy and I miss the loved ones i have left.
We're going to really try for this.
I wanna go home, yeah yeah Well I feel so broke up I wanna go home
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fdov2UIjUpY
When mom, dad, and Viv would pile in the car and get me from school to bring me back home, we always made a point to listen to Sloop John B by the Beach Boys. Mom and Dad loved the Beach Boys, and even though them retrieving me and bringing me back home was a joyous occasion for all of us, this song became a our fun "homeward bound" song despite the lyrics.
We come on the sloop John B
My grandfather and me
Around Nassau town we did roam
Drinking all night
Got into a fight
Well I feel so broke up
I want to go home
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, yeah yeah
Well I feel so broke up
I wanna go home
The first mate he got drunk
And broke in the Cap'n's trunk
The constable had to come and take him away
Sheriff John Stone
Why don't you leave me alone, yeah yeah
Well I feel so broke up I wanna go home
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, let me go home
Why don't you let me go home
(Hoist up the John B's sail)
Hoist up the John B
I feel so broke up I wanna go home
Let me go home
The poor cook he caught the fits
And threw away all my grits
And then he took and he ate up all of my corn
Let me go home
Why don't they let me go home
This is the worst trip I've ever been on
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, let me go home
Why don't you let me go home
When mom, dad, and Viv would pile in the car and get me from school to bring me back home, we always made a point to listen to Sloop John B by the Beach Boys. Mom and Dad loved the Beach Boys, and even though them retrieving me and bringing me back home was a joyous occasion for all of us, this song became a our fun "homeward bound" song despite the lyrics.
We come on the sloop John B
My grandfather and me
Around Nassau town we did roam
Drinking all night
Got into a fight
Well I feel so broke up
I want to go home
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, yeah yeah
Well I feel so broke up
I wanna go home
The first mate he got drunk
And broke in the Cap'n's trunk
The constable had to come and take him away
Sheriff John Stone
Why don't you leave me alone, yeah yeah
Well I feel so broke up I wanna go home
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, let me go home
Why don't you let me go home
(Hoist up the John B's sail)
Hoist up the John B
I feel so broke up I wanna go home
Let me go home
The poor cook he caught the fits
And threw away all my grits
And then he took and he ate up all of my corn
Let me go home
Why don't they let me go home
This is the worst trip I've ever been on
So hoist up the John B's sail
See how the mainsail sets
Call for the Captain ashore
Let me go home, let me go home
I wanna go home, let me go home
Why don't you let me go home
I won't see you for some time
Fifteen years ago my mom and dad and Vivian drove me back to the University of Michigan after winter break. It was my senior year, and it'd been a terribly stormy winter. The night after they dropped me off, they left to go home. To Chicago. In the horrible conditions, an eighteen wheeler slid into and crushed our Subaru.
Wow Bao, but maybe not now.
If I could get myself to leave the apartment...the first place I'd go is to the Museum of Contemporary Art. Despite how many times we'd been with mom, it was still our favorite place to go on on an almost monthly basis. Afterwards we'd always go to Wow Bao, a nothing-special Chinese restaurant that's appeal is the association I have with it and mom and Vivy, and the afternoons we spent at the museum until dinner time. Up until I went away for University. I think mom and Viv went once or twice while I was at school, but they said it wasn't the same so they stopped. They even tried to substitute me with dad. But day's spent at the museum and ending at Bao's was always Mom, Viv's, and my thing.
What I'd give for their chow mein right now. Too bad they don't deliver. Though maybe it's for the best. Eating that stuff would be a bittersweet experience.
Even if I got myself to leave the house and darted to the MoCA then Bao's, it'd be different. Mom and Viv won't be there.
What I'd give for their chow mein right now. Too bad they don't deliver. Though maybe it's for the best. Eating that stuff would be a bittersweet experience.
Even if I got myself to leave the house and darted to the MoCA then Bao's, it'd be different. Mom and Viv won't be there.
The Three Faces of Marty: OCD-stricken, Pathological Liar, and Baby Sitter
Last night I mopped, soaked, and scrubbed, my kitchen floor so furiously, I caused a leak. Admittedly, it was the third night in a row I'd done it... Knowing what a pain in the absolute ass they are, I felt horrible when the woman who lives below me came upstairs with her one and a half year old toddler attached to her hip, wondering why her ceiling was leaking.
It was all very bizarre. These past few weeks I've completely kept to myself. I'd already fired Sue, and have been avoiding phone calls and Skype requests from Bethany and tom. They've sent me many concerned emails (or so their subject lines lead me to believe) but like all emails, I've been ignoring them.
I've taken to watching asshole television (Finding Bigfoot, Sext you Ex, Cheaters...anything that I can compare my life to that is arguably more pathetic than my situation) after my obsessive cleaning everyday. I vacuum my living room and bedroom carpet four times a day, and mop my tiled bathroom and kitchen wooden floor incessantly. A frantic four times each. Despite my upkeep with my hygiene and appearance (still brush four times a day, floss twice, shave twice, shower twice) I've morphed into some kind of monster. Instead of being anxious and prone to intenser bouts of it throughout the day, I'm in a constant frenzy of agitation. I don't do the things that calm me or bring me joy anymore.
Don't practice yoga.
Don't email my few friends.
Don't Skype Bethany or Tom.
Don't read before bed.
Don't drink tea.
Don't watch Frasier.
I just clean. It provides an outlet for my anger, and satisfaction of my anxieties. As always.
Then though, just then, this sweetest woman comes up holding her adorable child. She seemed to be in her early thirties, with long brown hair and green eyes. She was in sweats, slippers, and had her hair partially clipped up. She looked a little worn. In a concerned yet kind manner, she inquired about the leak. This exchange took place in my door way, so I didn't have to deal with explaining any of my bullshit to her. Because of this, and how attractive and harmless she seemed, and...I don't know what else... I found myself lying to her. And boy, did I make up some lie. It really wasn't that extravagant, but I rarely lie. Also, the lie I told is highly improbable to anyone who knows my current situation, so that's also why it was so alarming.
Anyway, I told her my nephew (I'll never have one, not blood related, anyway) Neil, was house-sitting with me for a few days while I was at a conference for women's history at Northeastern in Boston (which I wanted to go to, but of course didn't. It happened last semester and my closest colleague provided a write-up of it for me) for a few days. During his last visit which was two days ago, he accidentally left the kitchen sink's faucet running, thus causing a horrific leak. I then apologized profusely, which she responded well to. We struck up conversation about relying on others, in which I told her I'll be extremely reluctant to ask Neil to house-sit for me again (Marty what the hell, just drop it) and she tells me how she's having difficulty in finding someone in this city to babysit her son.
What do I do? I tell her I love kids and would be glad to take care of him, baby sit him. Why, you ask? I have no fucking idea. I'm going through something here. Perhaps my body is going into survival mode without me registering it, and my subconscious is forcing me to do these things that will get me out of my apartment and my grief. Anxiousness. Madness. Whatever you think I'm victim of.
But here I am. Crippled by OCD, unable to leave the house, was fired from my job because of it, and have offered Renee- as I discovered her name to be- to watch Natey, her son. A one and a half year old, spitting up, self-defecating human.
It was all very bizarre. These past few weeks I've completely kept to myself. I'd already fired Sue, and have been avoiding phone calls and Skype requests from Bethany and tom. They've sent me many concerned emails (or so their subject lines lead me to believe) but like all emails, I've been ignoring them.
I've taken to watching asshole television (Finding Bigfoot, Sext you Ex, Cheaters...anything that I can compare my life to that is arguably more pathetic than my situation) after my obsessive cleaning everyday. I vacuum my living room and bedroom carpet four times a day, and mop my tiled bathroom and kitchen wooden floor incessantly. A frantic four times each. Despite my upkeep with my hygiene and appearance (still brush four times a day, floss twice, shave twice, shower twice) I've morphed into some kind of monster. Instead of being anxious and prone to intenser bouts of it throughout the day, I'm in a constant frenzy of agitation. I don't do the things that calm me or bring me joy anymore.
Don't practice yoga.
Don't email my few friends.
Don't Skype Bethany or Tom.
Don't read before bed.
Don't drink tea.
Don't watch Frasier.
I just clean. It provides an outlet for my anger, and satisfaction of my anxieties. As always.
Then though, just then, this sweetest woman comes up holding her adorable child. She seemed to be in her early thirties, with long brown hair and green eyes. She was in sweats, slippers, and had her hair partially clipped up. She looked a little worn. In a concerned yet kind manner, she inquired about the leak. This exchange took place in my door way, so I didn't have to deal with explaining any of my bullshit to her. Because of this, and how attractive and harmless she seemed, and...I don't know what else... I found myself lying to her. And boy, did I make up some lie. It really wasn't that extravagant, but I rarely lie. Also, the lie I told is highly improbable to anyone who knows my current situation, so that's also why it was so alarming.
Anyway, I told her my nephew (I'll never have one, not blood related, anyway) Neil, was house-sitting with me for a few days while I was at a conference for women's history at Northeastern in Boston (which I wanted to go to, but of course didn't. It happened last semester and my closest colleague provided a write-up of it for me) for a few days. During his last visit which was two days ago, he accidentally left the kitchen sink's faucet running, thus causing a horrific leak. I then apologized profusely, which she responded well to. We struck up conversation about relying on others, in which I told her I'll be extremely reluctant to ask Neil to house-sit for me again (Marty what the hell, just drop it) and she tells me how she's having difficulty in finding someone in this city to babysit her son.
What do I do? I tell her I love kids and would be glad to take care of him, baby sit him. Why, you ask? I have no fucking idea. I'm going through something here. Perhaps my body is going into survival mode without me registering it, and my subconscious is forcing me to do these things that will get me out of my apartment and my grief. Anxiousness. Madness. Whatever you think I'm victim of.
But here I am. Crippled by OCD, unable to leave the house, was fired from my job because of it, and have offered Renee- as I discovered her name to be- to watch Natey, her son. A one and a half year old, spitting up, self-defecating human.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)