"Nothing Lasts" by Bedroom
June 2, 2018 Saturday 2:20 AM
Not sleepy and this is why: had a headache, am still nauseated from that headache, took two migraine pills because I was hanging out with Goose (my roommate now!!! I moved in yesterday and he moved in today) which meant I had to Not Be In Pain so that I could uphold my standards for socialization with friends.
Have been thinking a lot about sex, a lot about sex, a LOT about sex: and how I think about it. As something scary and shameful, as a culmination of anxieties, as that place where memories slide over my eyeyeyyeyeees, then slide to the side, then creep back in again.
I went on another date with Ibn. We saw Solo, which I actually thought was pretty good as far as mainstream movies go (which I think have a tendency to be poorer in quality??? ex: live-action beauty and the beast, lol. what a shitfest). It was entertaining and centered around this question of good and evil and survival, how those three things fit together. I like how it didn't really judge those characters that did wrong; they presented their drives very well. It was easy to understand why they might've betrayed their friends without condemning them for doing so. But then, maybe that's just me. I have a tendency to be very forgiving. At least towards fictional characters. Maybe real people too: I am not sure.
My dad and I got into a big fight. I told him that I hated spending time with him. I did not say I hate him, because actually I love him, but I have the feeling it affected him more: for me to say that I didn't even like to be around him. I wish it wasn't true. I feel very bad that it's true. But I am not sure what to do about it except wonder why I feel that way. I told him, I said, I hate that whenever I'm around you I have to prove myself. You never just trust what I say.
It hurt when after a long silence he said: "For what it's worth, I have fun talking with you. I'm sorry that for you it's unpleasant." More silence. Me crying. Me laughing internally at the absurdity of our situation: a camera affixed to the windshield looking in on the front seat would see my dad, two hands on the wheels, boxes in the backseat stacked to render him blind in the rearview—an image capturing the process of me Moving Into My Sublet. His daughter in the passenger seat, kind of sweaty and covered in tears.
It was just kind of dumb and we didn't talk about it. I tried to be nice to him after that, though.
Ibn was nice. He wanted to go back to his apartment to cuddle, but I wasn't in the mood (probably because of the oncoming headache, but I couldn't have known) so I made an excuse. I wish I had the guts to have just said, "I don't feel like it," but he is a little bit fragile and I worried he'd think it was a reflection on him. It wasn't. I mean, it's probably a reflection of how I feel about him, which is: somewhat indifferent. I like him, but this feels kind of like friendship. Which is not bad. I probably would not mind kissing him, but I'd get bored quickly. God, is this going to be how I feel about sex? I hope not. I just want to have it and have fun. Guess that's what everyone wants, lol.
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