Chapter 43

this is just part of the chapter. Honestly I havent had the heart to finish it because I hurt this guy so bad, but this is what I have so far.

Be careful what you wish for.

 

One great dream of mine from an early age was to be a muse for someone who was truly talented and I wanted to inspire something great that was already within then that could manifest within a physical contribution. To create art. I don’t care if it is shallow, but I wanted to be seen as pretty enough for boys to want to write songs about me. I was never the pretty one, but I felt that I had something special inside me that could unlock someone’s potential. Et me go ahead and answer the super feminist questions. Do you think that only men can create art? No, but my certain skills, aka being a girl, allows attention from a certain group of people, straight men. Why do you need a man to create art? Why can’t a woman create the art? If I was a muse for a woman that would be awesome. If I could write poetry, I would. If I could lyrics, I would but they are not forms of expression that I excel in. I love people who can write lyrics and poetry because it does not come easy for me, while simultaneously, it flows from others with no effort. The idea of a muse is romanticized in my head, considering my synical relationship nature, romance is a theme I find in most things. A guy sees you from across the room and is so mesmerized by your enchanting nature becomes overwhelmed with the need to immortalize you within the context of a song, work of art, poem, or even graffiti on the side of a building. I never sought to be a muse, but do my ears perk up when I hear talk of an artist, yes. I know I am meant to inspire, but you have to be careful what you wish for.

I can’t listen to his song anymore. My ego perks at the mention of it because it is my song, and it is about me, but it is nothing like I would have imagined for “my song” or would have wanted. The pain he put into his song makes a reality of our whole time together that I took for granite as a warm relationship or something new to try. I wanted a relationship. I wanted someone to want me and only me, and when I found it, I have assed it and continued to play the field. I haven’t wanted to write this chapter because it is so intertwined with the previous chapter because they happened simultaneously and I am not ready to end Scott’s chapter. I’m hoping closing Cam’s will finally make me shut Scott’s. Plus Cam’s story is more interesting. Starting in January, I was consistently seeing a guy who still to this day has never mentioned me to anyone (including close friends and expanded all the way out to complete strangers. I have also never met anyone who knows him. Obviously I was out looking for someone who did not make me feel like they were embarrassed to be with me. Someone who wanted to show me off and brag about me to his friends and like fate, Cam appeared. He was everything Scott wasn’t, he was kind and caring. He wanted to know what I thought about things and genuinely needed my response.

Grace dragged me along on her date with then boyfriend Max to a bar called “might as well”, the joke being that when someone asked where should we go tonight, the other person would respond “how about there? We might as well.” Cheeky right? Every night besides that one, Might as Well is empty, but on Tuesday’s it becomes college night and is packed with kids (I say kids because most were definitely underage). It was March and somehow still cold, I was wearing a big grey fur vest and a LV bag. I took one look at that drunken mess of teenagers and told Grace we had to leave before I got covered in something sticky that would never come out. Small problem, there was a ten dollar minimum on cards. I thought it would be unexpected to buy two drinks, making my tab over ten, and give my extra drink to a guy. How progressive. A girl buying a drink for a guy at the bar was completely out of character, but I was feeling rebellious to traditional social stigmas. He looked sweet, had a beer, and smoked the same cigarettes I do. He was everything I was looking for that night to flirt with. He thanked me for the drink, but wanted to resipricate the gesture so I gave him my number and we set up a first date. In the six months Scott and I have been sleeping together, we have gone on one date, the first one. I wore the same thing on my first date with Cam as I did with Scott, maybe I connected them and they never had a chance to be separate people. We went to Might as Well and I had to explain that I am not into the young college scene, being a year younger than me, he was still very much entangled in the mess. I listened to his stories about his band and how the toured all over the country where he hussled people in pool to earn a little extra cash. Always the competitor, I decided to challenge him to a game, knowing that in my vast repitoire of things I am good at, pool is not one of them. It is also not one of those games that I get better as I continue to drink. Somehow I actually got worst the more I drank. At the pool hall, Cam and I, both aries and friendly people, began talking to the other people in the bar. Another patron told Cam that we made a great couple, to which we corrected him that is was in fact our fist date. He said he would have guessed like tenth, fifteenth date. I think the conformation from this stranger helped us decide that we were good together. I always had so much fun with him. The guy at the bar asked for a ride home from Cam and a chance to call from me. That takes some balls to ask a girl, who is out on a date, for her telephone number. I gave it to him.

I had not planned to sleep with him on our first date. I had actually planned to be home in bed by twelve, but not being use to dates I gave in and went home with him. I was just having so much fun with him, I did not want it to end. For the past year in Wilmington I had a mental block on my precious hobby of drinking that kept me from experiencing the delights of total drunkenness. I could drink, but I could not get drunk. I didn’t feel safe enough to allow my mind to succumb completely to the wonders of alcohol. The blissful oblivion that comes from one drink too many, but I felt safe with Cam so I let him take me back to his place to see if the sex matched up to his personality.