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Posts Tagged ‘lover’

  1. No such thing as loving in vain

    March 22, 2006 by A.

    Talked about the nature of Vanity in his car on the way to his house. It was fueled by this topic being discussed on the radio, about flirting while in a relationship, whether it was okay or not. As always, our conversation began with our disparate views on the topic, (me thinking it was normal and him saying it wasn’t), and eventually leading us to isms and other related things like perspective, religion, upbringing, then dichotomies, then strangely, patriarchy, colonization, and oppression.
    Our conversation outlasted the radio show.

    Then he asked me if I wanted to drink, in spite of the fact that we were both already very sleepy as we had only slept for two hours the night before because of… well, personal needs.
    Anyway, we were as heavy-eyed as we were light-hearted. Finished two pitchers of beer and spent the entire night sprawled on the carpet, holding each other with tipsy arms, laughing away to F.R.I.E.N.D.S. on DVD, and taking turns going to the restroom. I had always wanted this, to drink with him as if in celebration of our quotidian love, and letting him hold me as if I were the smallest tipsy creature crying over Joey and Chandler when they fought over a woman.

    We woke up at around 5 in the afternoon already. I am filled with the vanity of giving love.

    “And not a vanity is given in vain.” -Alexander Pope

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  2. The edge as horizon

    March 19, 2006 by A.

    Rarely is the artist capable of going both ways on two journeys, into the self and into the world […]. It is a combination of the Romantic I and the Classical they . It is subjective and it is objective. It navigates between the real and the imagined […].

    -Deena Metzger on Anais Nin

     

    I’ve always felt my place in the liminal space. As if I were constantly hanging in suspension, finding myself afloat just when I have alighted on ground. There is always a distance that intimates nearness as if constantly postponing pleasure. Please: both a command and a plea. I oscillate between its two connotations like a tidal wave. The deluge of desiring. And I have always been afraid of deep water.
    The true nature of a person is best discovered in bed. I have discovered much about other people — often hurtful revelations, but very suitable material for my writing. As for me, I’ve grown to love the edge of the bed, the way it poses the danger of falling off and perhaps hitting my head on the floor. It is an exaggeration, but sometimes I imagine it, its worst scenario, perhaps a landing that would make my head bleed. And it arouses me. Some might think me sick. But there really are times in the night, in the morning, when I feel a coldness in my chest that cannot be allayed by the one next to me. And so I turn away, find myself drawn to that which is beyond the bed, beyond the space of true nature, half-dreaming in my wake. This is how to desire what is close to you, knowing you cannot hold it any closer. You must move away.

     

    Pardon me for the incoherence of this entry, for I just woke up.

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  3. Penguin for your thoughts?

    March 12, 2006 by A.

    Another long, insightful conversation with him at Penguin Bar, Malate. As a matter of fact, we seemed to have created a world of our own again, where everone and everything around us seemed to have receded in the background (my apologies to Jenny, who celebrated her birthday, and the rest of the lit barkada). It makes me so happy to see him open himself to me, like watching a lion unfurl its glorious mass after an afternoon slumber. Talked about the nuances in initiation and response, gestures and passivity, love and fondness. He admitted things that were quite surprising to me as they were relieving. Like the real subtexts behind his responses to certain people if only for them not to get hurt, the inability to reject in the name of courtesy. Then he asked me about my honest take on such things. I answered, even with the risk of momentarily breaking him with stories of genuine generosity, the things I’ve done in the light of my I-want-to-make-love-to-the-world philosophy. And I fall in love over and over again with the fragility of his strength.

    He accuses me of being too understanding. That such an attitude makes me susceptible to others’ abuse, men and women alike.

    Perhaps I am. But it is what keeps me from thinking ill of others.

    Besides, without my understanding, I would have left long before we could have reached this state of pleasant transparency.

    I am happy now. He makes me so happy.

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  4. “Heaven help me for the way I am…” -Criminal, Fiona

    March 10, 2006 by A.

    “I’ve been a bad, bad girl. I’ve been careless with a delicate man. And it’s a sad, sad world…”

    Oh, Intellectual Vanity, Curiosity — the things you make me do!
    Am nearly done dissecting and thus completely understanding the nature of jealousy. It’s been a productive (painful) 4 years of exploring, experiencing, and ruminating.

    “And I need to be redeemed to the one I’ve sinned against because he was all I ever knew of love…”

    But I’m giving this one, the one I’m with now, a chance. Despite everything.
    I owe him, for having made me realize the last and final thread of my discovery through our conversation the other night about past lovers and present selves, a conversation that robbed us of our sleep and of our eyes (mine were quite puffy in the morning).

    I would like to believe everything he told me, despite my acquired pessimism about him, about our relationship over the past months. And so I shall stay.

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  5. The erotic vandal writes—-

    March 8, 2006 by A.

    I touch myself in his room when he is away, imagining us, recreating the scene of our lovemaking, modifying it, if only to be able to say I have come here, in this space, with him. This is how I’ve been in love: Feigning pleasure when all I feel is dissatisfaction; feeling my self, my presence, when I know I am secondary; so that I can say yes, I have a meaningful relationship. And so I often wonder how long I could keep up with this performance. I was born a performer this way, and I never forget to perform my sadness with style—it is only when I find myself losing it that I question myself and my place here with him. Sometimes I see myself in another place, a place of tenderness, kindness. Otherwise, I lose myself to his treatment and oftentimes, believe it to be tender. I am very good at believing in things. I enjoy being his, if only for a good performance’s sake. Yes, enjoy. Because joy, from the Greek word juoy, means to come. And I never come with him when we make love. I only know to come to him.

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