Hack, Cricket and Me

Things are going  well with Hack. Or at least they appear to be one the surface. In short, I have become his confidant, his best friend, his soul mate - all rolled in to one. We spend a lot of time talking and when we're not talking we're in touch in one way or another. But to be honest I wouldn't mind if we weren't. Although I enjoy it I think I'd like some distance, but I don't think he feels the same. While talking yesterday he said he stops himself texting me 'excessively' which made me think that his definition of excess is somewhat different to mine, because he does that already. He has also been extremely tender and sweet and has even surprised me with a recording of him reciting a chapter from my favourite book. A very thoughtful and beautiful gesture, for sure but I feel like he's overdoing things. It may perhaps have something to do with the fact that he hasn't felt anything for anyone before and is now overcompensating. Funny thing is, instead of being flattered I feel overwhelmed and discouraged.
I am so predictable, I can already foresee what's going to happen. I don't want to do this, but a part of me is already premeditating the best way to hurt him. The idea of breaking his heart fills me with a very fucked up sense of  excitement and anticipation. I already know that the only reason I'm in this relationship is so that I can draw it out for as long as possible before delivering a really big blow on my way out and the more emotionally involved he is, the bigger the impact will be.
I felt an urge to tell him today, but I couldn't. How can you tell someone you're going to hurt them? I wanted to speak up, desperately but he intervened: 'If you ever feel like straying you have to tell me'  I said I would, because that's not what I feel like doing. What I actually feel like doing is worse. I feel like I'm in a constant battle with myself, and on one hand I really don't want to do this because I could easily love this man but on the other hand I'm already contemplating my exit. Is it my place to warn him about getting hurt, when he knows what I'm like? I don't know anymore. I suppose he expects me to be different with him, I suppose that's what I expected myself but I don't feel I can be. His tenderness and affection is driving me away, that's what drove me away from all my previous lovers. I need someone who won't let me have the upper hand and for a while Hack had me believing he wouldn't but now that his feelings are taking over I can see myself falling in to the same old routine and taking on the role of a saboteur once again.
What's more I haven't managed to rid myself of Cricket who shows no signs of giving up. Last time he phoned, which was about an hour ago, I demanded: 'Why are you doing this?' He offered; 'Because I love you.' I am beginning to consider that maybe he's a psychopath. I don't understand how he's become this raving lunatic. I don't. Maybe it's not as bad as I think? Then again thirty two phone calls in one day seems a little excessive.
I'm tired, mostly of myself. I once had dreams and in them I was someone else altogether.

1 Comment 17.6.07 19:30, comment

Worries

I was texting back and forth with Hack last night when suddenly in between texts another text arrived and I swear my heart skipped a beat. I knew who the sender was before checking it. I was right. New York boy: 'So...how's life?'
After getting all the niceties out of the way, I finally sent him a text saying I don't understand why he feels compelled to get in touch with me every few months when he has a 'wonderful girlfriend' and is 'deliriously happy', He replied by saying: 'Because I often think about you. I wonder what could of been and I want to see you.' which is fine and dandy except he has a girlfriend who he's been with for about a year. I almost feel sorry for her, but of course her ignorance  protects her from being hurt. Still, New York boy is a cunt for playing 'happy house' when really he can't leave me alone. It's almost been three years and he always, always does this - comes back in to my life tries to convince me 'we have a future' and then sulks away with his tail in between his legs only to come back for more a few months down the line. Clearly, he can't help himself but to be honest I don't really care anymore I've got Hack on my mind. I feel completely at a loss after out conversation just a few hours ago during which he proceeded to tell me about his past relationships, except they weren't really relationships but what you'd call 'encounters'. Basically, to his mind women are disposable - good for sexual gratification and not much else. I knew this. I also knew that he is the way he is because he is incapable of intimacy, and because he has never been 'in love'. So why the hell did I feel so disheartened when he reiterated all those things? I suspect because I have feelings for him. Mid way through the conversation I said: 'What makes me different from all the other girls?' I needed him to assure me, to tell me that i am different; that he sees a future with me, that he's willing to let me if I'm willing to do the same. I needed to hear it because despite having feelings for him, I am still unsure about having a relationship with someone who is exactly like me. He said: 'You're different because I open up to you. I tell you my inner most thoughts, my fears, my secrets and even when we have disagreements I still want to talk to you and see you.'
And it may sound like a feeble argument, but he is, by nature, a loner and private and detached, like he said: 'I've even closed myself off from my family' who by the way are lovely people. So I suppose I should feel confident that he's making an effort and yet  I wonder if he's merely making an effort because he sees me as a challenge or as some passing intrigue. His fears are somewhat different, more practical I guess. He says he's afraid he might fall and then be 'dumped' or worse 'cheated on'. He knows I'm capable of both. So, apprehension on both sides.
But I can't help worrying that although he's making an effort when it comes to it he'll retreat in to himself. And if those worries increase I know that I'm going to do the same and that will be the end of that.

3 Comments 7.6.07 19:40, comment

Dream And Cricket

I had a really vivid dream last night. My maternal grandparents were there. We were staying in an unfamiliar house reminiscent of a seaside hotel. I was sitting on a deckchair outside when a man appeared – early forties, medium height, with a hatch of blond hair and something of a sociopath about him, perhaps his unctuous manner which made me very wary. He insisted I go and get changed for there was someone who wanted to meet me. I remained sat in my chair until he came closer and with a menacing  look in his eye suggested I do as I was told, then disappeared.  I went inside and started rummaging through rows and rows of wardrobes – all white with inbuilt shelves, and great big heavy doors. Unable to find what I was looking for I started panicking  at which time my grandparents appeared. The two of them stood in the middle of the room while I was scurrying about in a frenzy, going from one wardrobe to the next and shouting: ‘My mother’s been at my things again, that’s why I can’t find it!’ I don’t remember what it was I was looking for but I remember I couldn’t find it. I felt the rage towards my mother intensify as I went from one wardrobe to the next. My grandparent's tried to calm me down, but my anger wouldn’t subside. I then began to pick up various garments and reject them without trying, convinced they were too small. Then came the thought: ‘I need to stop eating, again. I need to stop eating.’ Completely overwhelmed I threw myself on the bed and started sobbing, but soon remembered I had to get changed so I did;  in to a skirt of some kind and a pair of opaque black tights. Dressed and ready to leave I realised it was Thursday and that I hadn’t been to work thus pleaded with my grandmother to ring my mother and tell her I had been unwell. My grandmother was about to make the phone call when I woke up. I’m not entirely sure why I felt the need to justify my missing work to my mother, but I felt her omnipresence throughout the dream. I don’t quite know what the dream meant, if anything at all, but I realise that even in my subconscious my mother is someone who I associate with  mental anguish.

I had a number of unpleasant conversations with Cricket on Wednesday. He rang and rang until I finally picked up. ‘Why haven’t you been answering my calls?’ He demanded. ‘Because I didn’t fell like it’ I replied. ‘Are you coming to the gig?’ He said. ‘No’ I replied He slammed the phone down. I was glad because it meant I didn’t have to endure anymore of his tiresome whining. Two minutes later he rang back. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to get so upset.’ I took a sigh and said ‘Whatever’. The conversation took a turn for the worse when he started going on about how ‘let down’ he feels and how much he misses me. I told him to get a grip and get over it, and also that I didn’t want to talk. ‘What, ever?’ He said, in a panic. ‘Ever’ I replied and put the phone down. He phoned again and left a voicemail, something about ‘caring’ and ‘being worried’. I didn’t even listen all the way through. I didn’t hear from him yesterday which I thought was a really good sign, but he got in touch again today. ‘I missed you’ he cried. ‘It’s only been a bloody day!’ I snapped back. ‘But I still missed you’ he assured me, and then went on reassuring for a good ten minutes. Worst of all, he started apologising for putting pressure on me, and for putting the phone down and for being too intense and too impatient. I told him I've had enough as I was becoming increasingly exasperated with his apologies and furthermore with his pathetic attempts to ‘get back in to my good books’. I told him I didn’t want any further contact, I said we were not ‘meant to be’, I also reminded him yet again that I’d appreciate if he fucked off. He didn’t seem to take any of it on board, but I guess time will tell.

1 Comment 2.6.07 00:55, comment

Absurd Battle

Last night, after much tossing and turning I finally gave up on sleep and resorted to watching T.V. I normally read, but I didn’t feel up to it so I opted for ‘light entertainment’ instead which, ironically, turned out to be anything but light. I have never been a huge fan of Ingmar Bergman, mostly because his films can be unbearably protracted and self-righteous, but last night’s offering, though typically Bergman-esque, had me glued to my t.v screen.
Scenes from a Marriage opens with a couple - Marianne (Liv Ullmann) and Johan (Erland Josephson) - being interviewed for a society magazine. Every moment, during the interview, seems to waver on a brink of some rupture and just as they start to look relaxed, the interviewer has them freeze for a photograph, urged by ‘Try to look as if you’re fond of each other.’  Throughout the course of the interview we learn that Marianne and Johan are a well-to-do professional couple, with two children, who have found contentment in material wealth and domesticity. And yet watching the two of them together develops in to a painfully candid expose of a marriage in trouble. While Johan rambles on about his accomplishments; all Marianne can say is that she is married and has two children. After much talk about the intricacies of mundane realism the two of them agree that theirs is a model marriage. Only, it isn’t. It is a marriage of convenience; devoid of any sort of passion or spiritual fulfilment. Somewhat inevitably, then the husband ‘falls in love’. Upon his confession of adultery – a revelation that comes as a complete surprise—Marianne's initial reaction is so perfectly detached it's unsettling. The subsequent discussion of the affair and its consequences is bizarre and yet quite realistic while Ullman exudes a firmly controlled hysteria of a spouse in shock, Josephson's unwavering honesty is being wielded as a weapon against his wife.
In short, Scenes from a Marriage chronicles a domestic life which comes unraveling with excruciating rapidity. Watching the film, I couldn’t help but think how masterfully Bergman captured the couple's turmoil, their increasing aversion toward one another, and their hapless attempts to end their relationship altogether. It all seemed so familiar. I have lived in that house with an emotionally crippled mother and a philandering bastard for a father who didn’t much mind making me a conspirator in his adultery. I have no doubt my mother knew of my father’s indiscretions and if she didn’t I tried to tell her, on more than one occasion, but for whatever reason she chose to believe him. Needless to say, I hated my father for his affairs and for putting me in that position but as time went on I began to grow increasingly disillusioned with mother for choosing stay with him. I would of understood her decision if my father had been a good man; a good husband, but he wasn’t. He was a pig-headed tyrant who took delight in humiliating my mother with incredible cruelty. Still, she stayed with him and did everything possible to make him stay – funnily enough he was the one that always threatened to leave. The situation was almost farcical. While my mother was completely disarmed by my father’s manipulations I grew resilient to them until I finally began to disregard my father altogether. Infuriated by my ‘lack of respect’ he often complained to my mother: ‘That little lunatic needs to be taught a lesson’. My mother’s pathetic attempts to reconcile the two of us would always end up in rows. It was useless. My father’s frustrations were mounting because he realised he couldn’t control me like he did my mother who had become a pathetic, blathering mess unable to utter a word without his approval. In retrospect I think my father’s hatred towards me was spurred by the fact that I rebelled and also by the fact that even then he realised, that one day I would be the cause of his downfall. As a result there was always a struggle for power between us – while my mother watched on the sidelines as an inconsequential spectator. She even failed to intervene when my father, in a fit of rage, slapped me across the face. I remember I looked at my mother for help, I was twelve. She didn’t even blink. From that day onwards, I realised I was alone – abandoned, frightened and desperate to escape. In the end I did, only to find myself back in the midst of this nightmare again. After years of almost no contact with either of one my parents, I came across some proof of my father’s double life. It fell in to my lap and without thinking I got in touch with my mother. I had to show her. I had to try and expose him for what he is and always had been. I saw my mother’s life crumbling in front of her. It was humbling. After all the years in denial she finally began to acknowledge what was real. I don’t know if she’ll ever recover, but I know that I feel an obligation to help her recoup what's rightfully hers - my father avowed to leave her with nothing, which doesn’t surprise me at all. Nothing about my father surprises me, except maybe his folly in underestimating his opponent. After years without a single exchange my father’s first words to me were: 'So you’ve finally got what you wanted, you little bitch’. I smile and retorted ‘ And you’ll get what you deserve’. I remember he then grabbed my arm and said: ‘You’ll see me in my grave before I let your mother have anything’ I pulled myself free and said: ‘And you’ll see me dancing on it, when she walks away with everything.’
Whatever happens, I promised myself to see this through because I need to, to get closure. And in some, halfhearted, small way I want my mother to move on, maybe even be happy. Of course the other reason is so that I can see my father crushed and to ensure that I have found my mother every legal help there is. My relationship with my mother will never be restored, our issues never resolved because she doesn’t fully understand how much damage the two of them have done. And I don’t think she wants to. I have no doubt she wants me out of her life almost as much as I want her out of mine, but for the moment we’re stuck with each other. And her eternal ‘ I need you’ keeps me firmly at the forefront of this absurd battle. It’s funny, but when I ask her ‘Where were you when I needed you?’ she struggles to find words.

6 Comments 29.5.07 15:56, comment