I'm having one of those horrible self-absorbed days.
I've been inside my head all day. This is an assinine example, but one thing I've been dwelling on is the fact that I really don't like guys with too many tattoos. Now I'm not against tattoos themselves, I even have one, plus I want to get one or two more. And on top of that I'm pretty damn liberal, so I'm very into the concept of "do your own thing, just don't fuck w/ me". The problem lies in a gray area.
I think that when a guy tattoos up his entire arm/chest region he looks like an asshole. This is not a new thought. I can remember standing in line at the grocery store as a small child and thinking the same thing. At the time it had nothing to do with sex, but the thought was "What an ugly man, I wonder why he colored so badly all over himself".
Of course, JC thinks this looks great. He's been planning on becoming that person for as long as I've disliked that person. So what the fuck do I do now? It's his body, I can't tell him not to do it without comprimising my own ideals and being a major fucking douche bag. But, it just makes him uglier to me, because thats one of the ways I've defined unpleasant to see. I don't want to think my boyfriend is ugly, and I'm going to, and I can't do anything about it, without making him be someone he doesn't want to be. Plus, he begged me to not stop liking him when he did it, which of course I promised not to do.
This is why I stand behind the fact that there should have been a questionaire. On that day long ago instead of talking about music and what not, I should have spent my time quizing him on the essentials. Good questions like: What's your mom like? or Do you have any strange sexual ideas? or What kind of body modification are you into, with pictures and details. Of course, I had no idea this would ever *be* anything anyway, I was just happy that someone wanted to talk to me, because if not I would have just been second hand trash.
Also, I know it shouldn't matter. Looks in the long run don't really mean much. But I already have a low enough sex drive as is, how much better will it get when I look at my partner and see his mass of unpleasant tattoos, which because of whichever chemicals in my head are against me, I find unattractive?
So all day I've run around how I can not tell him what to do, and not live with what he wants to do unless I learn to live a lie which I've always been *really* shitty at. I have no poker face. I have a great mad face, but it's usually there if I'm mad, and not when I'm not. I make a shitty actor because of that as well.
As the great Peter Steele is saying as I write this:
"I don't want to be me anymore"
If a rock god with a huge penis can not want to be himself, then I guess I can too.
If i weren't so afraid of the ghosts I think I'd go for a walk.
Times like this, you'd call a friend I guess. I have one real friend that I can actually talk to. Other than that, friendship always felt like work. Putting out that jovial face, playing hostess, including everyone, and convincing the room that you really are that way. The way I really am is much more dark, much angrier, and *much* less fun at parties. I'm bad at casual friendships.
I think if maybe I wasn't, if maybe spending my Saturday night with JC's friend and his vapid toothless girlfriend didn't seem like a slow trip through hell, then I wouldn't always feel so alone. But I can't, so even if I do spend time with them I'll be sitting there nursing a drink and hogging my bong, feeling just as alone out there around a fire with them as I do here huddled in the light of the computer.
Jesus, I've really rattled on today, sorry about that. I've been busier than usualy with school shit, so I've been simmering the entries in the back of my head. I should by rights have just done more than one, but it all just kind of flowed out. Eek!
