Saturday, April 16, 2011

Rocky Promontories

You're always sleeping with the guy he wished he'd been for the girlfriend before you. You try to please him as he is in reality and you fail because what he thinks he wants is quite separate. What he's decided to become after the most recent blows.

You want me to want to when you want to. But when I want to, I'd just better understand that you can't be bothered.

I can not solve the problem of your life. I can set out the equation in simplified terms.

He tells his colleagues at work how wise he thinks I am and one of them says, Dude, she's not in the room. You don't have to say that here. He reports this to me. We laugh.

I can explain his behavior to you; what I can't do is make him be the person you want him to be, the one who loves you more than his own life. Not in my power.

For about a month there, I had the naturally occurring cleavage of Anna Magnani. It was nice. Then I got more heavily pregnant and the cleavage was trumped by belly. Again. Back to normal.

We have to treat each other like humans, because what is the alternative? Treating each other like animals? Like furniture? Like rocky promontories we can have no impact upon so we may as well kick at their bases as hard as we can?