(no subject)
Basak is leaving for Turkey tomorrow. I am in New Orleans. I said goodbye to her on Sunday, and cried in public, which is something I hate doing, but seem to do fairly often anyway.
I wish I'd been able to transmute this crush into an actual friendship. Or maybe on a more secret level, I still wish it could have been something more than friendship. I had a conversation with Vica a few weeks ago, where she told me a couple of crucial pieces of information; that Basak lost her cell phone that night two years ago when I gave her my number, and that was why she never called. And that after I drunk-dialed her, and was so mortified whenever I ran into her, she was hoping for a sober follow-up call. "She waited a really long time," is what Vica said. But I was nervous and intimidated, and now it's too late. I'm left with an odd feeling of emptiness; not from losing someone I cared about, but losing the chance to learn to know someone I cared about.
And it shouldn't matter, obviously. I have a spouse, and when I go home crying to him, he hugs me and we share ice cream. But even with him, I'm still wanting something more. I really do believe that it's unfair to marry someone and expect them to change, but I can't stop wishing sex was a part of our life. There's a quote from Andy Warhol that laughingwoman is fond of, that keeps playing in my mind. It goes:
Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, "So what." That's one of my favorite things to say. "So what."
"My mother didn't love me." So what.
"My husband won't ball me." So what.
"I'm a success but I'm still alone." So what.
I don't know how I made it through all the years before I learned how to do that trick. It took a long time for me to learn it, but once you do, you never forget.
Well, it's definitely not something I've figured out yet.
I wish I'd been able to transmute this crush into an actual friendship. Or maybe on a more secret level, I still wish it could have been something more than friendship. I had a conversation with Vica a few weeks ago, where she told me a couple of crucial pieces of information; that Basak lost her cell phone that night two years ago when I gave her my number, and that was why she never called. And that after I drunk-dialed her, and was so mortified whenever I ran into her, she was hoping for a sober follow-up call. "She waited a really long time," is what Vica said. But I was nervous and intimidated, and now it's too late. I'm left with an odd feeling of emptiness; not from losing someone I cared about, but losing the chance to learn to know someone I cared about.
And it shouldn't matter, obviously. I have a spouse, and when I go home crying to him, he hugs me and we share ice cream. But even with him, I'm still wanting something more. I really do believe that it's unfair to marry someone and expect them to change, but I can't stop wishing sex was a part of our life. There's a quote from Andy Warhol that laughingwoman is fond of, that keeps playing in my mind. It goes:
Sometimes people let the same problem make them miserable for years when they could just say, "So what." That's one of my favorite things to say. "So what."
"My mother didn't love me." So what.
"My husband won't ball me." So what.
"I'm a success but I'm still alone." So what.
I don't know how I made it through all the years before I learned how to do that trick. It took a long time for me to learn it, but once you do, you never forget.
Well, it's definitely not something I've figured out yet.