Tuesday, December 19, 2006

love is an action, not a feeling

So go ahead and get gone
Call up that chick and see if she's home
I bet you thought that I didn't know
What did you think I was puttin' you out for?
Because you was untrue
Rolling her around in the car that I bought you
Baby, drop them keys
Hurry up, before your taxi leaves
Standin in the front door
Telling me that I'm such a fool
Talkin' bout how I'll never ever find a man like you
You got me to say
You must not know 'bout me, you must not know 'bout me
I could have another you in a minute
Matter fact, he'll be here in a minute
You must not know 'bout me, you must not know 'bout me
I could have another you by tommorow
So don't you ever for a second get to thinkin'
You're irreplacable

I got stood up today. I got all showered, blow-dried, made up and dressed up to see Micheal today (we were gonna meet at the mall, Palm Tran over to a Lake Worth motel, buy some dope and fuck all night) and he never showed up. It wasn't the first time he's done that to me. He will pretty much do anything his mama tells him to do, I'm not into that. I don't even know why I still talk to him, I know I love him but all we got really is love, sex, and heroin. It's a thrilling combination, but it makes for a bummer of a relationship.

So, I waited at the mall for hours until he called me and told me his mom would kick him out of the house if he went to go see me. I heard them fighting on the other end of the phone. I told him that if he couldn't see me, that was that, and there was no use making a big deal of it. Yet I couldn't follow my own advice- the tears began to flow the second I hung the phone up. I felt so pushed aside. He says he loves me, but love is an action, not a feeling. I've sold my ass, gotten robbed and beat up, and been to jail over this man, and to him I'm not worth getting yelled at over. It was a crushing blow. I can't even go into his workplace because his mom works there too (she got him the job). I was in there the other day buying ice cream with my gift card (oh, I gotta explain how I got my gift card!) and his mom made him hide upstairs in the break room. Seriously, what the fuck is that. You'd think the man was in his early teens, but no. He's 22, only a year older than I am, and still a total mama's boy. She has her head firmly lodged up his ass and has no intention of moving or relocating. Why? A: because she's overprotective and fears him returning to his old (heroin- and crack-filled) ways, and B: because he lets her. When we lived together, he let me share his mom's puppet strings, allowing me control over half. I guess whenever he gets close to a woman, he bends over so her whole hand can fit inside and control his every thought, word, and action like a ventriloquist dummy.

It just occured to me, he's probably gonna see this.

I doubt he'll actually read the words, unless he sees his name on it somewhere. I better start a new category... there we go, "Micheal." I really don't mind if he reads this, cause it's honest and he really did hurt me today.

But anyways, I worked and it was actually fun. My first date was this young newly-married guy who took me to his friend's apartment on the Island, that was worth a bill. Then I met up with R, who usually pays a bill also but hooked me up with $200 after a 15-minute session (15 minutes is actually being generous- I think it was quicker than that). Did one last date, a Spanish guy. This was less than a minute long and only worth $40 to me, but every little bit helps. I bought some groceries and some h. Then, about 5 or 6 hours after standing me up, guess who calls. He's at home, his mama stepped out momentarily, and he wants to see me. Of course, he's not going to make an effort to make it happen. He's just gonna sit at the crib while I pay $50 of my escort money to take a taxi over to Royal Palm Beach where he is. Once I get there, he carries my groceries and asks me for a bag. He ends up trading me a $400 IPOD (not his) and a diamond wedding set (engagement ring + wedding ring, also not his) for 5 bags. I accept, knowing that I could have more coming if I called my dealer, who for the sake of confidentiality we will call "45R". If I refer to any of my other dealers, they will be "45B" "Garden" "Jog" and "Lockz". I need a charger cord now for the IPOD, what an awesome Christmas present that was. He told me I could pawn the wedding set if I was short on cash, seeing that it was neither his nor mine. Well... I suppose now it's mine. I payed for it, no?

To enter Micheal's subdivision (La Mancha) on foot, there are 2 ways. The first way is the main neighborhood road, which is the only way you can drive to his house. Then there is a bike trail that cuts between a wooded area and a church. We dubbed it "da path." So as we're walking closer to La Mancha for him to go home and me to call another cab, we decide to go down da path and I start sucking his cock. This, of course, led to me bent over a fucking bulldozer while he banged me from behind. It's the first time I've fucked him for months, and I was hoping it would be terrible so there'd be one less thing to like/love about him. But it was good, pretty much as good as it can get outside bent over a tractor keeping an eye out for headlights and bicyclists. Does this mean we're back together? Argh, I don't know! I should've asked or something, huh? Maybe I don't want to know the answer. That's probably what it is. Anyways, we had finished up and cleaned up and were sitting at the gas station across the street from his subdivision and his mama pulled up in her van. At that point, I knew the date was over. He flew over to the drivers'-side window like an obedient little puppy, and (just as I had suspected) he left with his mama without so much as a hug goodbye. Sure, he walked to the end of his neighborhood and gave me stolen merchandise. But that's not the kind of effort I want to see from him. If he wants to be with me, that asshole better fucking start showing it through his actions. It seems to me like he'll hang with me when "he's got nothing better to do" or "he can sneak out after his mama goes to bed." Why does this shit sound so familiar? Oh, now I remember why. I used to do the same shit- in junior high. Maybe ninth grade too, but not really past then. But it didn't faze me this time because I knew what to expect from him.

Eventually I left Royal Palm, rented a GameCube game called "Paper Mario" which I've never heard of but my brother (the ultimate nerdy, video-game-playing, D&D-obsessed, Magic-card-collecting, anime-watching, computer-worshipping FanBoy, no offense to him) says it's the type of thing I'd enjoy. And that boy knows his video games! The only type of games I like are the Mario-type "running-man" games where you move your guy along through the various enemies and "bosses" and all sorts of obstacles. He said it was less of a running-man and more of an "RPG" whatever the fuck that means. RPG = role playing game, no? How can a video game be an RPG? Something like Dungeons and Dragons, that's an RPG. A video game is a video game. Some people take that shit way too seriously. My brother was one of the ones camped outside the store waiting to buy a Nintendo Wii. I saw a T-shirt that makes me laff hysterically: Mario, with bloodshot eyes, burning a blunt with the caption "Wiid". You can't tell me that's not funny!

Finally, I got home and 45R came out and didn't have change for a Benjamin so I was forced to buy 9 bags of heroin. Poor poor me, huh? The rest of the night was been spent bullshittin' around. It's 2:49am, I really should be going to bed since I have a fucking NA meeting at fucking noon. I hate NA, not as much as I hate AA but it's still a terrible concept. "Here's my idea, let's take a large group of people who love drugs, know where to get drugs, and are trying not to do drugs, and put them all together in a room for an hour and let them talk amongst themselves." How many people you think have scored in or during an NA meeting? I know I have. I didn't even ask either, it was offered to me. What a fucked-up world we live in. I guess I have time to post one Micheal-related poem:

Why did you betray me?
Is there nothing left to say to me?
When I needed you the most, you were a fucking ghost
Where were you when I went to jail?
Why didn’t you at least send me mail?
Why don’t you answer when I call?
Why won’t you answer me at all?
For you, to everyone I lied,
For you, I kept my ass inside,
Because of you I have no friends,
So I’m alone, is this how it ends?
For you, I’ve gotten raped and beat,
For you, I worked the fucking street,
If you asked, I would not say no,
But now what do I have to show?
A broken heart, arms full of tracks,
A worthless tattoo on my back,
A shadow of my ring’s old spot,
Do you love me? Apparently not

Last night, right as I was finishing this post, Connie (Micheal's mama, from here on out "fat ugly whore" or "FUW" came over here yelling and threatening to call the police on me because I had given him dope (which I did). Of course I denied it. It was hilarious. She actually drove over here (pretty far) just to bitch at me in person, but before that she called my HOUSE PHONE at 3 AM, waking up my parents who could give a fuck less about Micheal or his FUW. They were not pleased with the whole new development. Micheal got caught with the dope and the first thing he said was my name. I don't think I wanna see him no more.

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