Sunday, August 16, 2009

the funhouse mirror

The Time Traveler’s Wife was great. Not quite as great as the book, but great nonetheless. I sobbed of course. I would have just because of how aching the book/movie is, but with all the connections with Chad around it, I cried even more. I recommend seeing it (or at least reading the book). –Unrelated, but related—I know Chad loves/loved me. I know it. I don’t get it.

Moving on…

I am noticing another strange dichotomy within me. While I am still fifteen pounds away from where I was when I was at my best, and still have many more weights to lift, I am more confident in my appeal than I ever have been previously. Which is strange, especially since I am not at all happy with my body, the love of my life doesn’t want me, and I am still in emotional pain nearly constantly. Rarely a day goes by that I don’t have someone trying to get me to go on a date or at least get me into bed. There are few who write/text/call nearly everyday. Some are nice and I answer, some aren’t and I don’t. I’ve never had the feeling that I could have nearly anyone I wanted (not that I can), but I do have more of that feeling now. For some reason, many people are treating me like a hot commodity. Obviously none of those people read this blog and realize how fucked up I am. Either way, it is a nice feeling—even though I know it’s not genuine. These guys see something there they desire—it might be real, it might not be. For instance when a guy came up and offered a sexual opportunity to me the other day and I turned him down, he got a little snippy and said, “Wow, I guess I shouldn’t have let the tattoos and the mohawk fool me.” This made me laugh. It’s very true. I guess I put out a physical vibe that I don’t really live up to—a vibe that after to talk to me for more than a second you realize isn’t reality. Maybe that is what all these guys are seeing—something they think is there and isn’t. Maybe they smell the raw wounds and think I’m easy-pickings. Maybe even a few of them see something genuine in me that they want. Maybe it’s that I finally, truly, don’t give a fuck what anybody thinks. I really don’t have anything left to loose, romantically anyway, I know that has a certain appeal. Whatever it is, I must say I am enjoying the sensation of so many heads turning and following me when I walk into a room. It’s fun to have the momentary delusion that I can have whomever I want. Except for the only one that I want. The only one I want to spend my life with. The only one I love with everything me. Other than that, it’s fun. Other than that.

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