"I can feel one of my turns coming on"

Easy song quote today. Actually, they're all easy, once you learn to use Google. (Or, my new favorite, Gizoogle).

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Wednesday, June 8, 2005, 5:30am
Steve's house

I'm sitting at my computer, like I always do at this time, and scouring my web traffic report. Specifically, I'm looking for any clue that Stephanie has been back to my blog.

I know her mother's ISP. I look for it.

I watch and wait for her, feeling the empty ache of loneliness, just like I used to sit in my living room window and watch the passing cars, thinking that if I sat there long enough, mom would come back. One of those cars would be hers, and she'd park and get out, smiling, and wave to me with her free hand, carrying a bag of groceries in the other. But in the moments when I was honest with myself, I knew that she'd never come back. And I know that Steph isn't coming back either. So why am I watching?

I heard resignation in her voice. She had given up. I sensed the finality of her goodbye. We are over. The relationship has run its course. Most of them do.

Let's say you are a stable, monogamous person. And let's say you date, oh, 7 people before you meet The One and get married. That means that 87.5% of your relationships didn't work out. And you know what? I'd say that you were above average. So is this really a surprise?

For the record, I don't blame Steph. I don't think she overreacted to my screwups. In fact, I'm surprised she stuck around as long as she did. I tempted fate one too many times, I guess. In retrospect, I was toying with the relationship. I was just begging for a problem, and I got one. But why?

Maybe I was restless. Maybe I felt like she was going to hurt me eventually, so I hurt her first. Maybe I was so insecure that I still craved female attention, like a junkie who's gone off the pipe and is jonesing for a bump. Maybe it was all of the above. But it definitely wasn't an accident. All those ridiculous situations weren't happenstance. I either left the door wide open for them, or went looking for them altogether.

I didn't get it exactly right with Stephanie. I did my share of fucking up. But this is the first time in years that I've had a steady girlfriend. I stayed true, or at least didn't have sex with anyone else. I welcomed her into my house and let her sleep in my bed, both huge rites of passage, at least for me. I told her I loved her.

I wasn't an expert skier the first time I hit the slopes, either. Next time, I'll do even better.

As I sit here thinking, a door closes somewhere inside me, and the pain disappears. Suddenly, I'm ten pounds lighter, and the sun is brighter, and my coffee tastes better.

I was never much of a mourner. Mom died, and after 2 days of handing out tissues to sobbing relatives, I was ready to go back to work. Does that make me a cold-hearted bastard? Or just someone who understands that nothing gets accomplished by sitting around?

Even I know that getting serious immediately after a long-term relationship is bad news. So what am I supposed to do? Sit home and stare wistfully at the swinging pendulum of my grandfather clock, as I whimper softly and ask, "Why me?" That's the kind of shit they do on soap operas. And since my name is not Carrington or Quartermaine, you can forget about it.

For me, sex is like eating: I could stuff myself until I burst on a Monday, and by Wednesday, it won't matter. I'll need to eat again. It's irrelevant how much I ate, or how good it was, two days ago. Wednesday is a new day. It's something I need to do, regardless of whether or not I am in a serious relationship.

It's not IF I'm going to fuck again, it's who. And when. My mind clicks busily away, ticking off female names and weighing pros and cons. I sit back and observe it as it works, like watching the screen of a computer I just rebooted.

I can already feel it, that sense that I am outside my body, watching myself and listening to what I say, like a disinterested third party.

What's going to happen? Will I get out of control? Will I "date" girls, like a normal guy would? Have I BECOME a normal guy? Or will I be worse than ever, bedding an endless string of hotties, demoralizing one after another with wanton apathy? Will I eat sensible portions of nutritious food, or will I stuff my face with popcorn chicken and buttery biscuits, like I've just gotten back from Survivor island?

Have I learned anything over this past year of blogging? Have the past 525,600 minutes and the hundreds of thousands of words I've typed at this very keyboard done anything for me? Anything at all? Am I a better man? We'll find out.

But right now, I know who I'm going to call. I've known for some time.

By this point, you're aware of my modus operandi; cock-tease that I am, I build your curiosity until you can't stand it anymore, then turn my back on you until Monday, leaving you to sweat it out, wondering what happens next. But after your overwhelming show of friendship and support over these past few days, the least I can do is tell you who I'm thinking of. I couldn't possibly leave you hanging, after how kindly you treated me.

COULD I.