The Eyes of Medusa in The Stuff That's Not Interesting But Is The Most Interesting Stuff I'll Write

Richard went home early that morning and I drove him to his father’s house. They all remembered me and forced me to eat another breakfast even though I’d eaten one at my mother’s just minutes earlier. I decided to excuse myself from the situation because I knew Richard needed to find his footing and do it without me.

When you have a revelation like that, there’s nothing that can be done. I mean, Richard and I have known each other for so long, but that’s not where things are going to head. At least not now. I think Richard just thinks of me as someone who is randomly adjacent to his life, I don’t think he believes me to be as integral to his as I feel about him to mine.

But that’s because I’m very estranged from relationships in general. I know many, many people but I spend time with almost no one. If there was an emergency, I wouldn’t know who to call because there’s no one that I’m close to that way. So as much as I would like to entertain the idea that maybe one day Richard will want to marry me, it’s completely ridiculous… like I was still feeling the effects of the Christmas Acid.

I can’t help but think that something truly is ending.

I went on a date a few days ago. An honest to God, no sex, we’re going to get to know each other date. It was ridiculous. It was so short, it was very odd. People in my life seemed to have piqued interests about it, and when I asked one of my co-workers, she said it was because they couldn’t imagine me doing something so normal.

Apparently people don’t associate me with the word normal. Which I guess is fine. That word is so bizarre it even looks weird when I type it out. Ironically, the word “weird” looks normal to me. Go figure....

I have spent so much time trying to behave as though I was carved out of stone, don’t have the needs that others have or am unbothered by little things. That’s a nice way to think of things, but it doesn’t exactly leave myself open to other relationships. I used to call my friends in my phone that lived in other cities every other week. It was a ritual, and I remember one day being really irritated by the fact that I always had to call them. When I asked my friend about it, she said, “They don’t have to call you because they know you’ll call them in about ten days.”

So I stopped, and the people who actually cared, called me after a period of time. That’s what thinned out my social circle fairly quickly. Out of those that used to be part of that ritual, there’s only about three of them that I still talk to…

I think the reason these thing worry me is because these were all behaviors associated with my grandfather in the later years of his life when he became a hermit. He didn’t have any people to pull him out of his spiraling hole and he sunk so deeply that it eventually killed him. Ugh

I talked to Richard last night, and he said that some guy he fucked the day after I fucked him told him that someone bigger had been inside him recently, and he proudly told him that he had. I think that statement shows clearly the difference between the way we thought about that situation and the dissonance between our perspectives.

At least I have a bigger dick than that guy.