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Didn't you love hearing about the dismal swamp when you were a kid - like a secret sanctuary from evil if you could get past the snakes, disease, and alligators. The more she watered the peace lily, the more it died. It was an old story. She had tried several times with this particular plant. She couldn't understand because peace lilies were supposed to be easy.
The porch plants were rocking their socks off.
There had been a party yesterday. It was nice to see other people besides just the usual. cats and disembodied voices through a screen. Today was Sunday. she lit the frankincense - the truthful incense.
The truth was she had texted him again last night. She woke up to pee in the middle of the night and just called herself stupid stupid stupid - and ugly with no pride to boot. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror and recoiled in horror.
What hurt hurt though and for her, she was kind of a poking punk. at times, it felt so silly to - so wasteful - to chunk it - the connection.
but he had about fifty million more just like her to stimulate the next day. To her, she just had him and memories.
There was a glimmer of interesting at the party - a fun old lady got to talk about horses. It was an interesting family - lots of female boat captains, budding doctors, dungeons and dragons, an exquisite house.
"it's like lifestyle porn here." she told him as she noticed the exquisite chandelier. She found herself repeating the same thing, "and they make dinners here - from scratch - and with quality ingredients - like every day. That''s astounding."
Everything felt empty though. She couldn't wait to be alone again. She tried to do so in a crowd and hang in the downtown area. It was ok.
It sucked because she still couldn't replace him - erase him. She was trying - not super hard - but somewhat. Last night, after she came home she thought it was so meaningful that they had seen superman as their last film - and it kept cutting out - and she got irritated - even though he told her he would happen - that it shut off and he was asleep.
She had thought she would be ok with it. She wanted to be ok with it, wasn''t it an honor that someone felt so comfortable in your presence they could sleep. She wasn''t though. She had called herself a Placeholder - thrown it on the ground. He let it lay. He didn''t play.
She recalled the first glimmer of "wow, this is VERY different than anything I've ever navigated." They had fucked at the 45 hotel downtown. It had been the first time. He hadn't really asked, but maybe she could assume they had assumed. As she left the hotel, she wondered if she would ever see him again. It felt odd to not know. He texted her he wanted to stay. They then sat around her house and ate barbecue and watched "the trip". She was relieved that she had finally shown him her world: a poor person's car, cats she didn't want, and her tacky sparse charity house. It was something she would have hidden longer if she could have. It always felt good to be accepted, "it's paid for. You have no debt. I admire that. Soon we'll get you into ETFs..." She loved hearing him talk. She loved his confidence. She loved how calm and boss he was. She had already done her instinct assessment - he was quality to her - very much so.
This was day three - sitting in her tv room, they began to do something that wouldn't really ever be repeated but once or twice: they watched tv.
Recall, they had made love - twice even. It had been good - promising.
Sitting on the sofa, for the first time in her entire life, a man whom she had fucked, did not want to touch her.
She wanted to touch him. She wanted to do what mammals do. She sidled up. She waited. She nudged. Finally, she reached for his hand shyly, and dropped it embarrassed after it just felt like a heavy sawdust mannequin.
She did proofs in her head of what that might mean as she performatively laughed at all the - what she hoped - were the right jokes. She noted that she likely wouldn't laugh out loud if she were alone - even though she found it funny.
He was there though. He had to have liked her right? his presence was a compliment. So she thought either super wounded dude, huge wall, he was a control freak, using her for sex but sex he wanted to control, he just thought holding hands and touching and kissing was cheesy. or he didn't like her that much.
It made her laugh. The dude before him - that had been a chief complaint "for fuck's sake, can you stop wanting to make out with me every fucking second - can we watch a fucking movie without me seeing you staring at me? It kind of ruins my moment, although I suppose the intense lust is somewhat flattering as it's what I can suck on in this self-made purgatory desert."
this dismal swamp.
With a bit of distance, she forced herself to remember that Athens boy had never asked her about herself after the first convo - assumed he knew it all or either didn't give a shit - take a toss. She loved touch, and she wouldn't get it with him... unless maybe that's a gift she would earn if she kept performing perfect behavior weekly - proving proving proving. ouch.
She had spoken to her friend and remembered being somewhat horrified by the part of her that said like a religion, "Look Lisa. I know it sounds like what the fuck am I doing. I sound pathetic to myself, but he drives hours to see me - he never skips a Saturday - well almost never and even though I'm always not sure if I can count on it so it's always a pleasant surprise every week, and I'm always available. I know it sounds weird, but know this - I will take whatever he gives me until this is played out. I want him."
Lisa sighed audibly and said in her California lawyer voice, "so, you are ok being with a man you can't communicate with."
"But Lisa! he tells me so much without words. He's met my family. he fucking spent the night with my aunt in the house on our fourth date - that's practically engaged in my family. He drives four hours round trip! He took me to Florida to help out with his dead mother. He has to like me."
"why is it so hard for him to say it to you then?"
Narcissi kicked a rock off the porch as she was talking,
"well, maybe it's because he thinks he's screaming it in other ways, he said it that one time; and I shouldn't be so dramatic and needy and cliche?"
"OK."
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she wonders if it was really that fun in the dismal swamp. probably just like anything - sometimes and sometimes not.
This time last year, she was at her niece''s grand wedding and was doing his very favorite thing: ignoring him.
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