Diary / I Was a Lover

Hotels, Identity Creation and Beautiful Women

“You make me feel good, come on to me, come on to me now.”

It’s Friday night and I haven’t seen or spoken to anyone all day except a scientist.

When I was a kid, staying in a hotel was the ultimate treat, since my parents weren’t into air-conditioning and modern furniture. I loved everything about them; when I was much younger I loved the chocolates in the fridge and the spring mattresses. When I got a bit older it was the cable television (which my parents also weren’t into). Later still, it was more the connotations of hotel rooms than the actual hotel rooms that excited me: the trysts that must have taken place there, the people who were so wealthy that they could pay thousands just to have somewhere to sleep on their way to someplace better. I loved the anonymity I had in the bars and the pools, among the people who moved loosely and dreamlike around and towards each other, quite unlike the tight-knit groups and individuals that are invisible to each other in the daytime. The slight taste of danger, of daring, of dipping my toe into a world that I knew I was much too young to be a part of.

Perhaps it’s not just the simple reason of convenience and luxury that I’ve selected the place where I live now. It very much reminds me of a hotel room, or at least it would look like one without the knickknacks I’ve put up all over. Still, I’ve tried to keep it as elegant as I could given the general kitchsiness of my personal style.

Sometimes this place reminds me of that feeling I had when I was younger – except then I felt like a trespasser, a pretender (men started approaching me when I was around 13, when I was thin and had long hair), and now I feel like I’m beginning to make my legitimate entry into that world.

I cooked in the little kitchenette and ate on the granite laminate. (One ex of mine detested laminate for its fakeness. I love laminate for its affordability. This place is full of beautiful wood laminate.)

I lay in bed and masturbated from morning to evening in between messages, writing and reading. I finished The Terminal Man by Michael Crichton today.

I’m listening to music on a speaker instead of the usual earphones or phone speaker, and I’m discovering new dimensions to my favorite songs. They’re so beautiful.

A beautiful, peaceful melancholy. Drums like heartbeats, steady and measured.

I’m cooking for [redacted] today. I was thinking today of how much I love him, and wondering how our relationship has survived, lone among the many romantic relationships and friendships I’ve had. Strange as it sounds, I think the answer is that we’ve both been absolutely furious at one another many, many times. And after the fury was gone we discovered that underneath any possible feeling we could have for each other, there is a love that is as matter-of-fact and devoid of sentimentality as the simple existence of a table.

Another reason is that we don’t see each other very often. It’s hard for anyone to love me, and it becomes even harder when they have to see me often.

* * * * * *

ON IDENTITY AS CREATED BY DECISION

If you tell me you are unhappy, if you tell me you are all mixed up about the life you are leading, then expect a critique of the life you are leading, not just the pathology you are projecting it all onto. You picked your life. You may not think you picked it, you may think you were forced into it and inescapably tied to it – but every moment is a choice, right up to and including blowing your brains out.

Saying, “I had no choice,” is itself a choice. Your choices may be stupid, but they’re still choices. And as all choices in life are ultimately binary, you really have no one else to blame for them but yourself. Flipping a coin should win you happiness 50% of the time. If you’re running less than that, consider doing the opposite of every natural impulse you have. – Shame, TLP 

Addiction may be biological, but no one ever claims that getting clean is biological. No one ever says, “When I hit 45, my testosterone levels fell which also lowered the dopaminergic activity in the reinforcement pathways of the brain, so I was able to get off dope”? Changing isn’t an inevitable consequence of circumstance. It’s a decision, made at that time in those circumstances.  I know it’s a hard decision, but like every other decision in life it is ultimately a binary one.  Biology is pulling you towards 0, learning pulls you towards 1. – Amy Schumer, TLP 

There’s a battle inside you between the part that feels bad for not changing and the part that’s convinced of the impossibility of change. The trick is to realize that both are desires. Realize that you have two different, incompatible desires, choose, and stand by your decision without regret. If you’re going to resist change, realize that you’re festering because you want to, and stop regretting it. – Guy Fox, commenter on TLP’s Amy Schumer

I think I’ve finally come to a secure peace about the end of my relationship with [redacted]. I was lying in the school clinic the other day and mulling over how happy we had been, I’d been a fool to let it all go.

Then I reminded myself that she’d told me her decision, which was a firm no.

The thing is, I can’t say that I fully trusted her to be sure about her decision, to be sure that she knows with complete certainty that she can’t be happy with me – and that was the thing that was holding me back from letting go – if there was the slightest chance that she wasn’t sure, could I not change her mind again, could I not try to show her that she was wrong?

In the end I decided that I feel I’ve given so much of my time and effort these past few months and that I felt like it would never be fair between us, for numerous reasons.

I still don’t know what could have happened if I had still tried. All I can do is make a decision and stand by it.

I choose to trust her judgment. And to be happy. And flirt with beautiful women.

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