12:09 a.m. - Wednesday, Oct. 10, 2012
Story #9
"You know you're not normal, right?" he said.
"No one is normal," I said. "People just like what they like."
"You know you're psychologically damaged, right?" he said.
A lot of shit. That's what this story is about.
"What's up?" he asked me. I was sitting silently on the couch . . .brooding.
"What do you mean?" I asked . . .avoiding the impending doom.
"Don't play that game. Something is obviously going on. Let's just get it over with," he said.
"I'm not happy," I said. "We're in different places. You're always waiting for the next best thing to make you happy, and it never comes."
"And . . .?" he said.
"And we're different people."
"And . . .?" he said.
"And sexually, we want different things."
"What do you want?"
"To not be monogamous."
"Ok," he said - getting up from the chair and fumbling for his keys and his wallet. "I have to get out of here. I can't stand to look at your face right now."
He didn't leave. He stomped around acting like he was going to leave but ultimately sat back down and talked at me. While I "acted like a ten-year-old who just got caught doing something wrong." Meaning I wasn't looking at him, not sitting still . . .not answering his questions.
"You don't have the capacity to love," he said. "Do you even know what that feels like?"
"I don't know," I said.
I don't know.
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