Why I Committed Suicide (5 page)

Nobody notices us as we slip in, it’s as if we exist in a separate plane of reality not available to the common person, and in a dark hallway, we start to make love. Not the physical sex, but the slow dance of two young lovers oblivious. Jenifer pushes me against a wall and puts my hands around the middle of her waist so that I can feel the muscles of her lower back and the tightness of her stomach muscles as they curve into her thighs. Her dress is so thin that it serves more as a mental boundary or tease than a physical impediment. I caress lower down her body and I know the sensations of my touch feel like static charges on her bare skin in spite of the flimsy barrier. While I am caressing her, she is slowly unbuttoning my shirt and with the fingernail on her index finger she slowly scratches a deep red line down from my neck, to my chest and over my tight stomach. My belt is undone and my pants are unbuttoned by this point, but before they can be unzipped, I spin her around and push her against the wall with one hand behind the back of her neck and the other hand reaching down around the back of her leg, raising the hem of her dress and letting my fingers slide further and further up her thighs until I barely graze her pubic hair with a light caress. As this is happening she is turning and we are locked into a deep kiss. In real life our kisses are phenomenally electric so my dream becomes a mirror echo of reality at this point. I can’t describe what it is like to feel so erotically connected but maybe it will suffice to say our enthusiasm left little time nor desire to stop and breath we were so caught up in each other, our bodies behaving with abandon. We had sex right there up against the wall, with the fluttering ghosts of people trapped in their reality maneuvering around us, unknowing and unseeing, never aware of the glowing light coming from us as we were joined into one.

It was so fucking erotic that I woke up with wet sheets for the first time in years, sad to have my dream end and blearily re-focused on the reality I inhabit everyday with all the other ghosts.

Last night I grew tired of playing it cool and all the loneliness that goes with it so I walked over to the Karma Café to find Jen. She was really happy to see me I think. Or at least she didn’t act like I was a stalker and before I knew what was happening I was listening to the events of her day and then I was babbling like a nervous theater student in his first competition. I was talking about everything and anything, enthralled to have her with me enraptured by my words and when I mentioned that I had dreamt about her she insisted I tell her what it was all about.
“Here goes”
I thought,
“If I tell her this she’ll be looking at me like I collect women’s ears on a necklace or something.”
I did my best to get all the details right, to downplay the sex and focus on the colors and contours of the dream. I even laughed and gave possible explanations about why things that seemed like sex might not have actually been sex, anything to keep what came out of my mouth from sounding like cheap porn.

Amazingly she wasn’t turned off; in fact I think she may have been flattered. Some part of me must have given her a window of understanding into what was going on in my head and she saw it was pure, or she began to glimpse how powerful her presence was to me, even while in a dream state. With a twinkle in her eye she asked what I was so embarrassed about. She basically said “let’s go” and led me by the hand across campus where there were still patches of people flittering about, going home or rushing to put in some late night library time. We spent quite a bit of time trying to find an open building that was mostly empty and when we did find an empty stairwell in the bottom floor of the campus computer building we were both nervous and excited. At one point we could have easily gotten busted by one of the janitors, but he went out the doorway a floor above us. It was great spontaneous sex in a public place. It was cheap and tawdry and nothing like my dream, but it was wonderfully gritty and most of all it was real.

Dreams of fantasy don’t have to deal with locked doors, musty stairs, dust, nosy people and finding places to put your clothes where they can be got at in a hurry in case of problems. For once in my life though, one incredible dream of fantasy actually inspired reality.

Ok. I’ve just been deluding myself and living in a fucking fantasy world where I thought just maybe one day the simplest thoughts about what I want out of life might come true. I’m so fucking wired up that I wish I could just cry or scream or find any way to release this madness inside of me. I can’t believe what a dumbass I am to actually think I was actually okay with having
HIM
be there with her. Out of sight, out of mind my fucking ass! I don’t really want to put any of this on paper but I suppose I should have some historical reference that I can go back and look at and confirm
WHAT A DUMBASS I AM
just in case I ever forget.

Slowly but surely I’ve been building a solid friendship and relationship with Jenifer. She is the woman I love but we are technically not “dating” and I thought I understood about her and this long-term relationship she has with Kristoff. I guess I always thought that I would slowly be able to fill in whatever it is that he provides her, as I got closer and more intimate in her life. But like everything else about girls, I either don’t understand or they don’t make any
fuckING SENSE!

Today, not less than an hour ago, I think I actually felt my heart rip in two. I rode over to her apartment in Cement City after my swim class and her roommates let me into the apartment. They were having band practice and I stumbled past all the amps, mics, cords and other musical crap they have lying around the living room. I’ve been here enough times and listened to enough of their crappy music that I feel comfortable walking around wherever I please in their apartment now. They tell me Jenifer’s sleeping and I’m thinking,
how sweet, I’ll sneak in and curl up with her as she rests.
I get to her door, give a light courtesy knock and then walk in like I’ve done what feels like a thousand times by now. We know each other well enough that this should be cool. STUPID. STUPID! STUPID!

I walk in and what the fuck do I see but Jenifer and Kristoff, naked having sex on her bed. It was one of those moments where everyone just freezes for a second before time can start again. I mumbled a quick apology, shut the door and turned to walk out of the apartment as fast as I could, her roommates giving me this look that tells me they knew what was going on and didn’t even think to stop it from happening. Those dumb fucking assholes! I was feeling like a whore and I was in a stupefied numb daze, which is why Jenifer caught up with me before I could navigate the living room and escape.

She turned me to look at her and asked me if I was alright. Alright?
ALRIGHT?!

She was wrapped in a bed sheet, her gorgeous face flush with sex from another man, her blue eyes deep and glistening as she looked at me with genuine concern. I must have had the hangdog look of the century on my face or a great big flashing neon “worlds biggest dumbass” tattooed right on my forehead. Her concern was sincere but unapologetic, so I just nodded dumbly or said I was okay or something, anything to get the hell out of there. The walls in her apartment that seemed so cozy before were small and cramped all of a sudden. I needed to leave. Right then. I knew Jenifer could see that I was barely holding it in and definitely on the verge of freaking out but she wouldn’t let me go, making me look her in the eyes to see if I was ok before the grip on my shoulders relaxed. I just nodded and I guess the situation had been salvaged as much as it was going to get because I left. I walked right out the door with her standing beautifully naked in her sheet and her roommates watching us like an episode of the fucking “Real World”.

I stopped on the way home and put my hand right into the middle of the biggest pile of fire ants that I could find and just let them crawl over my flesh while I cried, the ants biting and injecting their poison into me until I could finally feel the pain physically. It felt good to feel something again, and it felt good that it was painful. Of course now I realize that was really fucking stupid because my hand has swollen up to twice its size and its full of poison which itches madly, but it was what I needed at the time.

In retrospect I guess I’m flattered that she reacted so quickly to come and talk to me, rushing out of the bedroom in the middle of doing it and all, but what the FUCK! Dammit I feel like such an ass. I know she likes me, probably even loves me because she was scared she had hurt me but even though it’s comforting to know she cares, it hurts a lot more now that I’ve seen them together. I guess I can’t accept her being with him out of casual habit anymore. There has to be more between them that I don’t know about. I’m a fucking fool for thinking a relationship of a month and a half could compete with what they’ve had for so many years. A harsh reality check for me I guess but necessary. I just wish I didn’t love her so fucking much now. Mea Culpa I guess. Fuck it.

You know I’ve always wished I had a widow’s peak. There’s just something about having your hair come to a point on your forehead that says “I am mysterious, I have influential powers of darkness at my disposal.” I think maybe it’s some sort of Dracula complex, I’ve just always been fascinated with somebody’s hair making an independent decision about the best way to frame a face. Oh well, one of life’s mysteries I guess. Maybe the reason I mention the hair thing is because my hair is starting to get long again finally. Last year it was down past my shoulders, a savage blonde mane that I defiantly chopped off half of in one of those spite-my-girlfriend-adolescent-rage-type deals. Most men don’t realize what a pain in the ass it is to grow out your hair really long. All that shampooing and conditioning and combing and constantly preening is ludicrous, no wonder women are all crazy. You can’t turn your head a certain way or your vision gets obstructed, you can’t ride in a convertible or you get knots, you can’t even do anything cool like put it in girly pigtails. If you are a guy there are three options: ponytail, not a ponytail, or stuffed under a hat. Bald men probably would be shocked in disbelief at my heresy (bad pun) but picking hair out of my ass every time I bathe is a constant chore that nobody thinks of until they are in the maw of the beast. My hair is a beast that consumes my head and accumulates smoke, dust and pizza grease juice funk like a wet old smelly mop.

I know I haven’t written much of anything since I found Jenifer and Kristoff together in the sack a few weeks ago, but I guess things have actually gotten more intimate between me and Jenifer since then. Whatever happened that day just happened. We both know there will have to be a choice of some sort soon but we haven’t talked or thought about it at all.

This evening we lit fireworks off the roof of her apartment down in Cement City. Anywhere else in Denton and the bastard police will cut your balls off for shooting fireworks, but they won’t come down to the ghetto. Typical America, but we used it to our advantageous amusement and had a fun time.

Jenifer has a Ford Escort, which she affectionately calls “RedOne” and late in the evening while we were sexing it up in her apartment, someone came by and slashed her tires on the driver’s side. I could tell it kind of spooked her but it just made me really angry with no one to take it out on. It was very strange because we had only been at her apartment for about 30 minutes and she was just about to drive me home when we discovered the damage. She had parked across the street with the passenger side of RedOne facing her apartment, the culprit was probably fucking hiding on the far side of her car and watching her apartment as he cut her tires. Spooky stuff. Neither one of us could think of anyone who was aggravated with her in the slightest, but I am beginning to discover that weird-ness follows this girl.

When Jenifer was at Texas A&M for her first brief year of college, she acquired a stalker. The guy would follow her to her apartment. Once he even cut the power to her apartment, before the police got involved. I guess if I want to psychotically obsess over Jenifer I will have to take a number. Thankfully I’m not that crazy yet, just taking advantage of the time we are together not worrying about the future or pining for my lost innocence and blaming generation X.

What am I saying? Dese Nuts! Time to sleep.

I may not have mentioned this before, but this summer, come hell or high water, I am going to go see the Grateful Dead. This second summer semester is my own time to play with and I AM going to go see the Grateful Dead. Throughout my many acid-filled years living in the dorms here at college and interacting with all the cool people in town, I’ve been hearing tales about how going to a Dead show is one of the ultimate life experiences. I don’t want to go for the drugs, I want to taste a little bit of true “On The Road” freedom. I’m young and I’ve got the stamina and the willpower to complete a cross-country journey, plus I’ve saved a little money to help butter my way across the veins of the U.S. At first I thought it might be romantic to hitchhike, but I’ve never done that before and I’m not sure I would get enough rides fast enough to get up to Oregon and still see the shows.

Sing a song of sixpence, pocket full of rye.

Right now, my worst-case scenario involves me taking my ‘74 VW bug with the flower stickers, the exhaust problem, the funky clutch and flying solo on the trip, but I really don’t want to do that. I could easily get stranded somewhere in the bounty of America’s heartland or the exhaust leak that makes me dizzy when I drive the car too far could cause brain damage by the time I make it to the Pacific Northwest. I explained my intentions to Jenifer and she suggested I put a flier up in the Karma Kafe’ since a lot of people in Denton who hang out there are going to the shows.

So here’s the flier I put up:

I need a ride to the Grateful Dead shows in Oregon

on 8/22-8/23 and/or San Francisco shows 8/25, 26, 27
th
.

I have gas $$ & pot.