“Tell me you don’t have that much empathy”, Dirty exclaimed. I said, “Nah, I know who number one is, who are you?” Dirty replied with, “I am glad I taught you well.” I could do nothing but smile. I had to leave to pick up a friend who had almost lost her life the night before. I had been listening to a lot of Elliott Smith and I noticed that my heart had grown as the Grinch’s heart had at the climax of How he stole Christmas. It was dark and I had no stereo in my car. I imagined getting into the driver seat and having someone stab me from behind like in Goodfellas; however, I highly doubt I had crossed so many people, as they did, in my lifetime, as of yet at least…
The night before I went out only to get almost drunk, ditched, and called upon to do a favor, or meet up. I agreed. She said she looked rough and I didn’t know what to expect. I expected nothing I should have expected the worst. Poor little ole me thinking that everything is all right all the time. It mostly is. My ex girlfriends will tell you different, or not speak at all. Chris was in fact an adult entertainer now, not to mention one of the only girls I have ever dated that was actually on the same level as me. I took this asking of a favor as a sign that we were on the same level we have always been on. I am always, and will always be there. There is such a thing as being too available. Ah, fuck it.
I figure I could write for hours on the topic of my ex relationships, but I have learned most recently that I am more interesting than all of my ex girlfriends combined, which is a large amount, and the reason I am interested in them is because I am interested in someone that is as interesting as I am, or interested in me. Mickey Rourke told me that it is extremely narcissistic to write about others and to assume that you have no flaws. I told him that I didn’t write like that, that I merely mirrored people. He told me to grow up. I don’t know how I talk to so many Hollywood Celebs, but I do, mostly because of sending them links to my blog in fan mail. Its clever, try it. I love getting hits, and not just green. It works, and if it works its got to be right, right?
Whenever I think of Chris I recall the time the first time we hung out when I told her I was going to take her into the woods and rape her. She reacted with a smile and a laugh. I was only joking and she knew it, I loved this. I knew at that moment she was the right girl for me. I dated her for 2-4 years, maybe still. I also recall the time when her father came back home from work early and caught us in bed. He told me to get the hell out and I ran. It was snowing out and I remember my feet getting wet, and thinking the whole day through that I would be getting arrested later that night, or killed. I found myself calling her father that very night and trying to persuade him that I meant her no harm and that I was really in love with her. He seemed to believe me. The relationship was and is interesting.
When she told me that she had a gun pressed to her head and that her boyfriend, or ex-boyfriend now, had tried to kill her I was pretty shocked. I wasn’t so much shocked that this really happened, because it did, I was shocked that she had taken in like a champ. I might not get over that. Some male of 6 ft something had put his hands on this beautiful girl and destroyed her enough to bring her to tears, not to mention the emergency room, not to mention to an apathetic state.
I spent the night nursing her back to good spirits and sharing candy, and stories, and watching movies. I felt like a part of the family again. I just could not imagine this girl in a situation like this. I imagined how this situation had come to pass. As other situations I could not imagine the details enough o make them happen.
I feel like all night and all day today I was handcuffed to a steering wheel while driving drunk. I felt like I was in a dirty haze of reality. I didn’t feel as bad as she felt.
We spoke; it was enjoyable at times and unbearable at others. We spoke of life and focus. We spoke of the past and of the future. We spoke of death.