For the past five minutes, I have sat here, mentally flipping through my rolodex of adjectives in an attempt to find one which suitably describes the past couple of weeks. And I have come up empty-handed - or empty-minded - for that matter. "Interesting" is such bland a word, and "revealing" does not seem entirely appropriate. Perhaps you can attach your own adjective at the end of the entry.
First off, in honour of the bet, I should say that it has been 26 days since my last self-given orgasm, and just about 21 days since I last gave myself direct clitoral stimulation. That I’ve been able to keep my hands away from myself for the past 3 weeks is amazing even without mentioning the fact that I have not had sex for the past 8 months. But now that it’s mentioned, I must say that had I been presented with the possibility that I might be able to withstand 8 months of no sex and 3 weeks of no orgasm, I would have had a hearty laugh. I would have thought that had I ever reached this far, just the mere sight of an even vaguely phallic object would have sent me into a frenzy. You might be regularly seeing both me and the stray dog with one leg over a fire hydrant, if you know what I mean.
Honestly however, like I was telling Raj, if we have these kinds of bets too often, soon I’d lose the urge to masturbate completely. The only reason I get horny these days is when I’m watching porn – and yes fellahs, I am perfectly capable of watching porn without touching myself. Two words, three syllables – self control.
Considering that the bet has a mere 10/11 more days until it is complete, and neither betting party has yet succumbed to his/her nether regions, we decided to add a new dimension to the bet – what should happen in the event of a tie. It was I who came up with the idea.
In the previously thought remote, but now considered inevitable event of a tie, a showdown will occur in the form of a game of strip rummy. Each party will be allowed to remove only 4 predetermined articles of clothing:
Raj – 2 T-shirts, pants, and boxers
Roça – Pants/skirt, top, bra, panties
At the end of the showdown, one party will be completely naked and subsequently fulfill his end of the bet.
I cannot wait.
In other news, when last have I spoken of the Mark of the Penis? It has been quite a while, has it not? Which is why this is the best time for an update.
Now, Mark and I speak online intermittently, and on the phone whenever I need something (someone to bring down my camera for me, help setting up a skybox, anything to do with IT). That’s as honest as it gets.
Two nights ago, while speaking online, something I said upset him – I was being sarcastic to him, he later told me, though he never really specified exactly what – and he called me. Many, many, many things were said. However, because of lack of time, care and memory, I shall only speak of the more interesting and more important portions.
Firstly, he still feels hurt. He felt that I “betrayed” him. And I put the word “betrayed” in inverted commas because that was the word he used. In succinct point form, Mark believes I “betrayed” him because of the following:
1. I left him. (true)
2. I left him for another guy. (false – any interest in other men came several months after leaving him)
3. I only talk to him when I want something from him. (why else would I be speaking to him?)
4. The only reason I… No let me stop. This one I have to quote.
Mark: “I feel like the only reason you started a relationship with me was so that you could lose your virginity and start to fuck other men.”
I swear that is what he said!
Apart from religion, that is the most fucked up logic I ever heard! I suppose it makes sense in a way – I used him to gain sexual experience that I really intended to use meaningfully elsewhere – but geez, that makes me sound like a porn star on training.
Regardless of how it is interpreted however, what he said was never the case. The only reason I can come up with that he would think of something like that is that he completely twisted what I had told him way back – even before we had gotten together. I distinctly remember telling him that I was pursuing a relationship primarily because I was curious about the “older guys thing”. That was it and no more.
Anyway, all of these wrongs that I supposedly wronged him happened a long time ago – over 2 years ago, to be exact. What’s more, it’s not like it was not a two way street. Let us not forget that time he pseudo raped me. He tried to have sex with me against my will a second time that I alluded to but never quite wrote about. It happened in November 2004, I think. And I must pause and appreciate how much time has passed. So many things happened in that month, and the wounds they left behind are still open sores wrapped in bandages as opposed to the fading scars I thought they would have been by now.
Forgetting that now and getting back to the story, I must say that Mark vented quite a bit that night. If I even tried to get a word in edge-wise, he’d stop me dead in my tracks.
“Listen, listen. You don’t say anything. You always talk. This is my time to talk and I want you to listen. Right now, I don’t care about what you have to say.”
It would not matter if I just wanted to clarify what he said, he would tell me that he does not want to explain anything – that I am an intelligent girl and should figure it out. He said he did not care if I understood, he only needed to tell me these things because he had been keeping them in for so long.
Intermittently, he would run out of steam, and there would be a silence. And then he would say:
“Well, talk.”
Me: “But you said you did not want to listen to what I had to say.”
Mark: “No. I want to hear what you have to say, now. You go ahead and talk.”
Me: “But you’re contradicting yourself.”
And then he would admit that it was the emotion.
We spoke for over an hour, which is a national record for Mark. Well, he was the one who did most of the speaking really. And I did most of the listening – or at least, the phone was to my ear while I remained silent.
But why was I even doing that much? Why was I sitting there, watching the spectacle of Mark digging up old bones for my viewing pleasure? They meant little to me before they were buried, and them mean even less to me, now. What was in it for me to listen to a guy I cared little for tell me that he loved me? That he could provide security and stability for me? Why am I even humouring him while he asks me if he stood a chance of getting back into my life (read: getting back into my pants)?
I thought of quite a few reasons – I had a lot of time to think, you see, with all that listening I was doing.
Perhaps it was nice to know that I was still needed, still loved by someone. It was nice to know that I was not the only one who had his/her heart broken and was unable to move on (although the fact that it has been 2 years and Mark still feels this way about me is not particularly reassuring). Maybe it was just the drama. It was just adding some excitement to an otherwise boring life. I think it was a bit of all of those things, really.
I must state though that the conversation occurred in batches. A couple of times I unwittingly said some things to piss him off – I do recall having the uncanny ability to do that when we were together – and he asked to speak to my mother. He loves to speak to my mother you see; he thinks she has such a positive outlook on life, and that talking to her is like a “breath of fresh air”. After he felt better, he would ask to speak to me again. Mom never really questioned it.
Anyways, Mark talking my ear off was worth it in the end. Eventually the conversation moved on to other things and I just happened to mention that I knew a bit of html. Mark, being in the IT business and all, told me that if I knew enough html, he would be able to throw a couple of jobs my way. Jobs that he did not have the time to do. Jobs that were worth between $2,000 and $3,000. US dollars…
My jaw dropped. I would have to work half of a year to make US $3,000! I told him I would give it a shot. Fuck! What do I have to lose?
Mark is a smart mother fucker, though. Keep in mind that he told me that he could provide me with security – this is financial security we’re talking about, and Mark probably has the idea that I’m very shrewd when it comes to cash. I think I give off that money-hungry scent. Or maybe that scent is given off by all vaginas. When he did that whole security bit, this thought appeared in my head…
“Man, would I get with Mark again?”
But another voice immediately answered:
“Sure. If I did not have to have sex with him, and I could see other people.”
Which pretty much settled the issue.
I just hope that him telling me about USD $3,000 jobs was not just a pathetic attempt to give me a more predominant role in his life. But if it were, I hope that at least the part about me getting 3 grand for a few days work is true.
“Now I ain’t saying she’s a gold digger, but she ain’t messing with no broke niggers.” – Kanye West, “Gold Digger”