Taming the beast

I wish to reach my arms out and grab him, pull him between my fingers, mold him, sculpt him, smooth out all the roughness he embodies. I wish to transform him. Perhaps I even wish to break him. It cannot be foretold at this time, because our relationship is so inconsistent. Some days I cannot imagine life without him involved. Other days I hope to never speak to him again. He terrorizes me.

I know his birthday is coming up, although he won’t tell me the exact day. It is making me nervous. Of course I would like to see him, but I don’t want to appear like I have my heart set on it. He seems to be one of those people who don’t care about birthdays. Just another year, you know the type. Probably the kind of person who threw his own surprise party back in high school, and decides now in the later (and more sophisticated) years of his life that such a day doesn’t matter.

But then sometimes I think he just doesn’t want me to know what day it falls on so he can lie to me, tell me it is his birthday and spend that day with me and his real birthday with someone else, or even worse (yes, it would be worse)—alone. Occasionally I find myself just wishing for him to be happy, because although I believe he has the capacity for happiness, and can make others laugh until their sides ache, joy seems to be something he lacks. Though it is true that it is I who wish to wield this joy upon him, my involvement is not necessary.

He needs to be saved. I think he knows that and avoids it anyway. Maybe there is a myriad of me, women who fall and secretly obsess, hoping he chooses them over the others to let them change his life, open him up, allow him to become vulnerable. My stomach sinks at that thought.

At times, I abhor myself for being such a typical woman, the one thing I strive not to become. I’m not sure if I would be so wrapped up with Drew if I wasn’t so attracted to him, if he gave me the things that I wanted instead of teasing me with pleasant possibilities. I often find myself romanticizing people and situations, and I fear that I fell into quite such the routine with him. Or perhaps I am just more masochistic than I give myself credit for. I do so enjoy the calm aftermath of the neurotic episodes I have from time to time. And I think he finds humor in them as well.

He never answers the phone past eight. I always wonder why but never ask. Though he claims to bed early (and when I stay over during the week, that is true due to his work schedule), but who knows. I probably don’t really want to.

I imagine a slender young woman with red lipstick charming him, the way I charmed him, laughing, drinking, talking about nothing. Sometimes it makes me jealous. Sometimes I am relieved by the thought.

Today, however, is not one of those days. We have a date tonight that he’s tried to drunkenly cancel twice, last night and the night before. And each day after, he calls me and blames dumb drunkenness; that he still wants to see me; that he has to see me. It is apparent that to him, our concert experience together on Friday brought us closer together. It would be nice to think that way. But in my view, I have felt closer to him in general this entire time, and the concert, to me, was just another day. More of the same. Another reminder that one can feel alone even without being so.

Perhaps at night, after a few more drinks than necessary, his feelings scare him. It is possible that I scare him also, but I do my best to keep my feelings under wraps. It is the better thing for both of us.

On a cheerier note, Vincent and I have a sushi date on Thursday. He’s really been amazing the past few weeks, totally being around more than he used to be. Not to mention the fact that he seems genuinely happy with Camille, and he doesn’t even rub it in. He actually primarily mentions the things that happen to be wrong with her, and even if there aren’t many, it makes me feel better. Plus, now, he always has a bottle of really nice wine to bring over and share.

Work has been pretty busy lately, thank God; busy enough that I actually have the money to take days off when something comes up. I’ve started wondering about Christmas presents. I’m generally not the person that does the Christmas-mall-shopping experience; I usually buy things for people when I see something that makes me think of them, regardless what time of year it is, and I try not to break the bank around holiday time because of that. It just seems silly to me, to agonize over gift giving for people who are going to love you regardless how much you spend or what trendy store you perused.

But I really don’t know what I am going to do about Drew. Not only is his birthday around the corner, but so is Christmas. I absolutely refuse to do the gift card type of thing, but I’m at a loss when it comes to something such as this. It can’t be too intimate or it will scare him off, but I don’t want it to be a gag gift either. I honestly detest the mall, so perhaps I will browse online today. Challenge of the week: what to get an aging punk rocker?

Any suggestions are certainly welcome.


2 Responses to “Taming the beast”

  1. 1 nope
    November 14, 2007 at 1:30 am

    buy him an antique straight razor. you can get them at william’s cutlery off camden, they are pretty, sharp, unique and a fun thing to have around. he wont use it, but he will think of you anytime he sees it or any other straight razor. its kinda the perfect gift in your given situation.

    oh gifts and metaphors…

    what fun.

  2. November 14, 2007 at 6:17 pm

    I was the recipient of a straight razor as a gift one year, about four years ago. I’ve never used it, but I think of her anytime I see it or any other straight razor.

    It really was a good gift. But i’m not an aging punk rocker, i’m an aging writer.

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