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solstice: He Doesn't Love YOU | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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›comments[0] ›all comments ›post #722 ›bio: kristen ›perma-link ›9/18/2025 ›15:53 ›archives ›first post ›that week
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She put the guitar down in the rainbow room that only got sunlight for twenty minutes in the autumn. It was slightly out of tune, but it did in a pinch when she wanted to try. Besides, she now knew how to tune it. She was going to have a lot of time on her hands, and she already had so much she didn''t know what to do with it. She wasn''t much of a cleaner when bored or an organizer. She should be of course, but alas. Perhaps she would write a mystery finally: Macon Murder "It practically writes itself. There could be a bumbling British detective, and I could be the victim - a blisteringly intelligent fuck-up madwoman who used to be kind of hot." "well, you already murder yourself, so may as well make some dough off of it." "exactly. Thank you for your support." She looked away hoping he was complimenting her. It''s not like she''d really ever sing a song she wrote or publish a book. Her feet were still blistered from walking in shoes she thought looked cool in order to see an Indian festival where she didn''t really even pay attention to the OGs. She was distracted. It felt like she had been distracted for months, and wasn''t that what love might be? Who knew. Today, she was kind of tired of it and was going to stuff her face with some Mexican food she probably shouldn''t splurge on, but alas. She was in buck-up/survival mode. It was easy except for the droning monotony. Florida had been her most recent happiest memory - even though there was no amusement parks or fireworks. "We should go jet-skiing" "Oh, if you drive. I''m terrible at risky things with motors - that''s why I have a manual lawn mower." He looked disappointed, but that was no longer her cross to bear. She had wanted to go to Busch gardens, and the most adventurous couple on jet skis she had have seen - one was dead at 38 and the other was in jail for dealing fentanayl. Life was a freakshow. The car ride down was fine. She tried not to talk too much and also was aware that the silences were too heavy. He didn''t give her much to work with, but he was fine stopping at Arby''s. He ordered the wrong thing, but her''s was delish. She of course tried not to talk about nor mention the cows, but she failed. "I don''t do this very often. I try to imagine myself having to kill everything I eat. Cows have this superpower of being able to transmit emotion. It''s good for the herd''s survival I guess. Now, they''re just in individual pens and it breaks my heart, but this is so good with Arby sauce." He smirked, "I was that guy in college that made fun of vegetarians and asked them to think of the feelings of the farm workers." "I don''t understand." "It was stupid." He was not, and he had such an unreadable face, but it always seemed to express vague disappointment. It made her dance like someone was shooting at her soles. They hopped back in the car and headed south on the superhighway. They had stopped half way. Upon entering the city they were destined for, he started to get slightly more animated. "ah, that was the Marriott I was going to pick. I''m glad I didn''t." The rejected hotel was located in a strangled assortment of multiple tattoos parlors and liquor stores. "I thought a lot about which one to pick. I hope this one is good. I thought about doing the J.W., but didn''t want to pull that trigger." She was content. She didn''t care, and she realized this was all free for him anyway. He was going to net gain, and she was going to be a pleasant, distracting companion. She asked him again, "if you want to jet ski, I''d try, but I''m definitely not going to be some fun hot shot. I once snowmobiled with my fam in Yellowstone. I loved the serene beauty and wasn''t into racing. I don''t even like speeding on the road unless I''m channeling my rage." "It doesn''t matter. Look, this is it." He pointed to an aqua lined former vacation rental apartments now with a Marriott sign. She would eventually treasure every morsel of this vision. Once there, he wanted to nap and do his crosswords. She actually did kind of think it was hot that he was a triple titanium member or whatever. After they had drinks and fish sandwiches at the bar - name Kokomo''s of course, she declared, "I''m going to go swimming in the pool." "OK, I''m still going go to the room." "That''s fine." She changed into her black - not yellow - swimsuit. He looked at her she guesses because he said "wow, that bathing suit leaves nothing to the imagination." She kind of blushed and pulled the ruffled chest tighter. "I was more worried about this sex bruise on my hip, but I have another bathing suit." "no, it''s fine. whatever." Whatever indeed. She self-consciously made her way down to the pool with the fake volcano and fountain in the bend. It was huge and cute and overlooked the inlet. It was salt water which she loved, and she got the luxury of floating and thinking. When she returned to the hotel room to the kind of stranger, she was soft as a petal, but he hadn''t yet fallen asleep. He never made love to her unless it was bedtime or morning. She took her green leather journal and went on the balcony to give him space. She got bored after a while and came in. "we should go somewhere for dinner. There''s this cuban place." He texted her. "it looks great." They walked to it. He was in front of her as they could only go single file, and she mentioned she thought it was like Saudi Arabia. He might not have heard. They ordered mojitos and exotic yummy dishes in the historic place overlooking the water. Afterwards, he wanted to go out on the town. They never held hands. They never kissed. She was now the one who wanted what someone else wouldn''t give. "I''ve got to get more of my zyn''s. Let''s drive to the store." "OK." He looked at a place near the store they bought their beer and nicotine at, "that looks like a good spot - we should go there tomorrow. It looks like where the locals go." If, by that, he meant that it was kind of tucked away and boring. She, of course answered, "sure." They headed back and went to bed early. He probably fucked her. She was startled by the variance in their lovemaking, sometimes somewhat passionate, sometimes like what she imagined a whore would do. The next morning, he was headed to do the transaction regarding his mother who was in scientology and now dead. He didn''t like to talk about it, but he vented. She said she''d see him later. After he left, she saw his sunglasses and texted, "want me to bring your sunglasses to the lobby." He texted back "no thanks". She wouldn''t have gone anywhere in Florida without hers, and she assumed he was focused. Of course she chose the other bathing suit - the yellow one that had been purchased twice to get right. This trip had been a lot of preparation for her. She had bought new flip flops too. She was ready. Downstairs, she asked the doormen how to walk to the beach. They pointed it out. She was confused when she got there as it seemed like she was in a hotel parking lot, but she made her way onto the beach. The old familiar communion of water and waves and her happened. She rested and went into the water four times. He had been interested in exploring the park nearby. When she got her fill of semi-paradise, she walked towards it, but turned around when it looked like it was for cars only. Eventually, they got drunk on Pina coladas and tequila and beer. She liked it because he was so much looser. "you know. It will sound strange, but I like you better than I liked my ex-husband. The thing I learned was to not fake love." "oh." "Do you remember the time we first met? I crossed my legs and you gave me a look, and for some reason I thought I liked you for it. I''m sure you don''t recall it." He had no expression but said, "I remember". That night, she wept in the bed and texted her first love from when she was 19 "am I lovable? am I worthy of love." He texted back "might as well face it you''re addicted to love." She wanted to shove the phone in his sanctimonious 24-year married face. Instead, she did the Siberia thing with the bed. She tried to touch him, and it was met like ice. He gave her nothing. She retreated, and she wept and castigated herself like a fool who dared hope something foolish. The next morning, she knew he was awake and said "will you forgive me for all the stupid things I said last night." He replied, "I don''t even remember anything." He was eager to get breakfast which he said he never ate, but grew impatient. It was Labor Day Sunday or Saturday. "Like I told you, we have to go back to the weird lady''s place. I''m going to give her $1000 even though she wants $3000, and I told her you were my girlfriend." Narcissi lit up like a frog. They got there early. The weird lady with the Make America Great porch curtain wasn''t there. She arrived shortly and the transaction was done awkwardly. "Let''s take the backroads to Valdosta. It only adds an hour." "OK, I''ll get a hotel for us. One with a tub." The song in her head played now, "he doesn''t love you. You''re trying too hard. He doesn''t love you. Just look at the card." It was a song she was writing. When they arrived in Valdosta, she almost panicked when she thought she couldn''t get in the place. This was her lead, and she was sprung. He went around to the side and found another open entrance. The bathtub was adequate, and he again napped and played his crossword. "Ask the owner where we should go." She texted the proprietor and was told where to go. It was a freezing wine bar. The town was dead and rain threatened and she hadn''t brought an umbrella. There was an old couple and them in the bar. He was surprisingly vocal. She was relieved. She definitely wanted the looseness that alcohol would bring as the top was wound up. "Why are there no people here when there are such nice things." "Oh, they''re all at the FSU game." They went to another bar. This was the first time that he paid for everything. She let him. He was flush with neglectful dead mother money. They put the Clemson game on. She found it so exotic to watch football. She said so. They fucked and then fucked again when they woke up and then headed back to her home. He was kind and talked a lot about politics. She wept almost when he told her there was going to now be a "department of war." "you know, I can''t care about politics as much anymore. I know where I stand, and the only vote I have is with my dollar." He didn''t care. He often talked over things she said as if he didn''t give a shit. They arrived in Macon, and she barely gave a shit. She was so annoyed at all of it. Why couldn''t they just be real and love each other - why this fucking tension and frippery. They ate an extravagant bagel with mocha slushies. She was back to paying. He dropped her off at her house and peed and downloaded his podcasts. He was giddy. They parted with a no-tongue kiss like almost always. "see ya soon."
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