17. (Patreon)

17.

I want to quit smoking. And I think I need to quit Dave too.

There’s this great line in Amanda Palmer's book; The Art of Asking,  where she turns to her best friend and says;

"When will I stop doing this, Anthony?"

to which he replies;

When it hurts enough, kid.

I think it’s beginning to hurt enough.

When Dave declared that he didn’t want anymore unwanted children while we were making love,  this word unwanted pierced right through me. It jolted me out of my lack of awareness. I had started to allow the fantasy to creep in, that maybe, seeing how things were appearing rocky between him and, Mandy and things were rolling so naturally and seamlessly between us, that maybe, just maybe, he would decide to marry me instead. That night and into the following morning, I got my wake up call.

I would never dream of stealing a man's sperm, to make a baby with the agenda of making him mine. As he told me the story of how one woman had done that very thing, I thought to myself, the stories that people share with me about others are, at times, their way of sharing a direct message to me.  Before we had gone out that night, I had the feeling that it was getting time to ask him about his situation with Mandy. I sincerely believed that this time, I was not off into a Disney fantasy, that this time it could be real. Two people who discover that they have not only a mutual physical attraction for one another, but a great many interests in common that connect them. Liza Minelli starts whispering the song Maybe This Time from the movie Cabaret into my ear. The lyrics of which go;

Maybe this time

I’ll be lucky

Maybe this time 

He’ll stay

He will hold me fast

I’ll be home at last

Not a loser

Anymore

Like the last time

And

The time before…

With every word he shared that he was still very much in love with Mandy and had been for many years, and despite extreme feelings, I think were the words he used, for me, he was still very much planning to marry her soon.. 

The music  stopped playing in my head. In its place I just heard the words loser, like the last time, and, the time before... 

As he changed the subject onto cars and mechanics and a possible solution for my messy excuse for a vehicle, on its way to a funeral…

Inside me the music had stopped. All I could hear were the sounds of his words; pragmatic, business-like and matter of fact. All signs of romance had left the building. At some point this summer, I will be yesterday's newspaper. 

I thought about reprimanding myself for being so foolish. You knew the deal. Why did you allow yourself to just follow your desires without a care in the world? Why did you let your feelings get out of hand? Haven’t you been here before? Don’t you ever learn? The scolding voice of my mother now firmly imprinted into my head. 

I didn’t think, was all I could sheepishly reply. I was just going with the flow. Letting life take me. I was enjoying myself. I was happy. Genuinely happy. I, and it, felt good. 

More fool you, retorted the harsh voice in my head.

When will I  stop doing [this]?

This being [hoping for the best] [trusting that everything will work out in my favour with men, for once] this being the thought that [maybe it’s just my turn] [it’s different this time] I feel unordinarily comfortable with this man. It feels so effortless and natural.

I hadn’t even noticed that these hopeful thoughts of being more than just desert, had creeped in. I really was just going with the flow, I really was feeling so divinely happy and content. Nothing about this person seemed to bother me, he can be cutting at times, and sometimes he cuts me off in the middle of recounting a story to talk about something else, but maybe I deserve it, maybe I do waffle on about memories that aren’t special to anyone but me. I am learning to shut up, because I do know it can be a massive turn off. I just like to share my happiest memories with the ones I love, it’s my way of including them in my most precious memories.

Anyway, I realised I would need to get the morning after pill. An act that brings about a certain kind of pain. The pain of being reminded that this man like every other man isn’t interested in marrying me. Isn’t interested in sharing the best parts of his life with me. Isn’t interested in making me a mother. I find myself internally disassociating. Parts of myself have gone somewhere else. This used to happen to me at school when a teacher was mean to me. I somehow left my body, so although my physical body was there as far as she could see, the actual me had escaped somewhere very far away, removed from this room or situation and I would dance off into my imagination where it was safe and beautiful.

He had a confession. About tonight….I didn’t even need to hear the rest of the sentence, I could already tell it was a cancellation of our dinner plans. I sucked it up. It’s financial, try not to take it to heart, even though I had already picked out the dress I was going to wear, hoping it was subtle enough not to draw attention from others, but sexy enough to draw attention from him. I’m obviously still stuck with the belief that if I look more than good enough and if I behave more than well enough, that this person might love me. 

I went to the kitchen to put on the toast he needed, added some freshly squeezed orange juice to make up for my lack of coffee, and returned to the bedroom. I could feel all the romance had left. He made some jokes, and I laughed because they were funny. He is very witty. What a shame, I thought. Next year, this man will permanently be with another woman. The thought of which had such finality to it. Such a lucky woman. I wonder what she did, or who she is, to deserve this? I wonder if she could tell me what I need to do in order for a man, a real man, like this, to fall in love with me too?

I’m sure I would like her. Dave wouldn’t possibly fall in love with someone who wasn’t bright and fun and kind. I am sure she is all of these things and more. She can probably cook too, unlike me. Although I know I can cook when I have the motivation to cook for someone I love. I have done several times before, and whatever I’ve made has been very tasty. I just don’t feel motivated to cook for myself. Maybe that’s the answer; I have to romance myself. 

Boring!

I want someone to romance me the way men do to other women. I want someone to be so sure of me that they can easily commit to me, without question. I want to know what that feels like. I want to know what it feels like to be picked!

He drops me off at the pharmacy. I start to panic that they won’t accept cards and that Dave will drive off and I’ll be left to walk home without the magic pill. He doesn’t have any money anyway, so you’ll have to find a way to get it regardless, I tell myself. They did accept cards. 18 euros for the termination process. The pill was called ‘Escapelle” 

The escape pill. Escaping from motherhood. Escaping from single motherhood. Still don’t have enough money not to be a baby on the bus mum, lol. 

Let’s return to dreams of building my business empire, Suze. Maybe I can be like Lousie Hay, single, childless, but with an excellently successful company and live happily ever after.

After all, let’s be realistic. I am 39, and I’m not going to get any prettier.

I feel the melancholy begin to lift a little. The houses and their views, on my walk down the hill to the bay ,are inspiring. I start fantasising of picking one to live in, and one to hold my multimedia company in; on three floors, with my desk on the top floor, a terrace with views of the rolling hills. 

As I arrive at the bay, I see the waves rolling in and out, with fervor. I sit to watch them. I feel too tired and despondent to work today. What’s the point?

At least I have a place to live, that’s the main thing. And I’m not tied down if it turns out I don’t like it, or I want to move.  It is extremely spacious. And so excited to have a big, new, clean bathroom, with both a bath and a separate shower. Thank you God. It even has a big sink area, which is luxurious for doing makeup on. Maybe I’ll start paying more attention to the way I look and making a bit more effort. It is fun after all, and I used to love dressing up and creating a different look every time I went out. It just seemed so pointless in Gozo, I didn’t sense that anyone seemed to care, and it didn’t seem to make much difference to my success rate with men. I’m quite often invisible for anything other than  that they want to fuck me. Well I guess it could be worse if they didn’t want to fuck me, but I just wish they would want something much more than that.

But anyway, I digress off into the land of my head. 

What’s on the agenda today?

Meeting at 4.30pm to discuss new Patreon plans...

The weather reflects my mood, it’s kind of meh and hanging.

I have absolutely no reason to have to share this day with anyone. I can be completely alone in my thoughts. I can swim, write, eat. Take myself out for lunch maybe. No one inviting me anywhere, no one to notice that I’m not around. I can be free just to collect my thoughts and write them out until I’m purged of all the sadness within me. It has just started to rain, how perfectly on cue. 

And now the sun is out. I must go see if there is a rainbow. That would be a sure sign of good things to come. There must be a silver lining. I look outside. Not enough sun and too much rain for rainbows. 

I notice that I smoke when I’m hungry. I’m so uninspired to cook for myself. I’m worried I’m starting to get thin. I’m not even enjoying the taste of cigarettes anymore, it makes me feel dry and dehydrated, with a foul smelling breath. But I’m still uninspired to cook for myself. 

That was one of the reasons I was so unhappy that tonight's plans with Dave have been cancelled. I was so looking forward to this sunset dinner. But the man at the coffee kiosk did tell me Saturday was expected to be bad weather, so maybe not the perfect day for sunsets. And maybe not the perfect day for romance as it happens. 

It’s a day for being practical and level headed. It’s a day for being alone while I grieve this loss of hope within this relationship, or connection, or whatever you want to call it. This is just an affair. You do understand that? Dave said. Yes, I know. Just an affair. Over and out. Sorry for digressing from the plan. My apologies. I’ll bring myself back in line and put myself back in my place. Just give me some time because it’s really rather hurting right now. I’ve cried a few times today, away from prying eyes. I cried as I walked down the hill. No one would know. If a car passed I just rolled my eyes up to the skies. If you tilt your head back and roll your eyes back towards your forehead, you can stop the flow of tears. I’ve needed this many times in the past. Like when Robin Williams died, and with no warning, tears started to flow on the London Underground. I had to hide them by rolling my head back. It happened three times that day on three trains. Everyone seemed to be reading the metro, and Robin’s smiling face looked up at me and my heart broke. How could someone so special who had touched so many people from the comfort of their living rooms, and brought so much joy and laughter, commit suicide? 

It wasn’t fair. 

He should be loving life. I knew he was bipolar too, so maybe that created an affinity. I don’t know where this unexplainable love flowed out from. I had never known how much I cared. For a person I had never actually met. It made no sense, and yet here I was blubbering away on the underground. 

I’m eating a carrot. I had enough motivation to peel it, it’s a little soft, like an overused penis. I smile, at the thought of my vulgar comparison. At least I have my dirty sense of humour. Unlike me, says Robin. Haha I reply in my head. He’s making a joke about the fact that he’s dead. Yes, I often talk to Robin in my head when I’m down. He cheers me up by doing self pitying impressions of myself, gloomily playing the violin whilst his legs dance a jolly jig. Trying to make me laugh and snap me out of my melancholy. I don’t care if I’m crazy. God is everywhere. God is everyone. In which case God can appear to me as the voice of Robin Williams. It’s my God. And my God knows me implicitly. He knows how to take the piss. He knows how to cheer me up when I’m down. Everyday he creates beautiful sunsets and cloud formations for me, and some days when I cry out with pleasure at his latest creation, he says, well yeah, yesterday I made another awesome one, but you were too busy with Click Funnels. He knows how to put things into perspective. I also know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for these random conversations with God. I would be there. 

On the pavement, dead, from jumping over the rails of the hostel in Elephant and Castle. I distracted myself from thoughts of suicide back then, by learning to drive and going to acting classes. Distracting myself with a lover who was partially into me, which meant I could escape from the hostel a few nights a week. He was so tight!

He used to scrape the mould off his cheese. And I mean thick mould, not like the 5 second brush off rule when you drop something on the floor. I mean, that the cheese is now mould. And he would scrape and scrape and scrape just to get this one tiny scrap of untouched cheese. He probably isn’t aware that simply cutting off the mould does not render the food safe to eat.

It’s 19;52 now, and I am reading over what I wrote here a few hours earlier today. Dave sent me some kiss emojis. I haven’t replied. I need to let the dust settle and keep this day for myself. I have no one to take care of me but myself, and I need to practise self caring. The sadness has mostly passed. It was important to feel it and process it. It felt empowering to tell no one and deal with it myself. My meeting went fantastically well. I feel inspired by my new creative projects in the works at least..

I’m going to lie down any second now, after walking down to the kiosk to treat myself to a burger for dinner on my last €5 of cash. Marvin is already showing me the way. He has no shame at sleeping all the hours God sends him, none whatsoever! I feel bad that I haven’t replied to Dave, I kind of want to, but it would take energy to be positive, and I don’t think I could fake that right now and I don’t want to pretend I'm fine. It’s time to be more authentic and stop grinning and bearing it. I’m happy for him. He must be excited to see Mandy again, and he has something to look forward to. I look forward to growing my business, and maybe someday there will be a man waiting just for me, who feels the same way about me, that Dave feels about Mandy. Even if my annoying hopefulness is childish, I will not give up hope. Dreaming keeps me alive.

Goodnight x