It’s pretty obvious I’m excited to see Dan tonight.
• • •
What else can I say about Margaret Elizabeth Whitley-Spooner? Oh, yeah. She gives me brakes all day. Whenever Cole is napping or feeding I can do whatever I want. Some nannies have to tidy up and do the laundry but the Spooners have a Jordanian housekeeper named Aziza who comes three mornings a week for four hours. Margaret says she refuses to hire a Mexican, because as warm and friendly as they are, they are not meticulous. She says it’s “alien to their culture.” I don’t think she is being racist when she says this, just honest. At lunchtime I can either go out or eat in, taking whatever healthy food I want from the humongous fridge. Even though Margaret despises smoking, she gave me my own personal sterling silver ashtray to use on the patio. I think it’s impressive that she doesn’t let her own dislike of the habit get in her way of being a good hostess.
What else about my job? Oh, yes, Paul. I saw him a little bit on Monday and he was very nice, but then he left to go to San Francisco all week on business. He didn’t return home until this morning. He is not a stockbroker as I thought. He manages some sort of fund. He must be very good at it, because he is filthy rich. Margaret is sad that he travels so much. I also think she gets insecure that she is home changing diapers all the time while he is out in the world meeting exciting, beautiful women. I don’t blame her. I am sure there are a lot of sneaky bitches out there who would love to steal Paul away from her. Even though she is so good at being a mother and loves Cole to death, I know she misses being a fancy decorator.
She shows her insecurities in the form of jokes. Once she called herself “a boring housewife” and another time “a fat zombie.” She also said “Don’t make Cole love you too much or I might get jealous.” And then once while I was swaddling Cole she said “You’re getting so good at this, Paul’s going to hire you to replace me!” And then this afternoon when I walked to the door after Paul paid me she whispered “Remember when my ass looked like that?” Paul did not reply which I thought was the smartest choice.
It’s time for me to jump in the shower and drive to Dan’s. I will blog every single dirty detail. I promise. Wish me luck!
XOXOXO3.
Katie Kampenfelt
Saturday, December 8, 2007
Driving home from Dan’s last night I tried to figure out why things are suddenly so much better between us. Is it because distance makes the heart grow fonder? Or is it because I have a car now which makes me seem more independent and exciting? Or is it because in one week I will be legal? (For sex with older guys, not for alcohol.) Whatever it is, we weren’t older guy and younger girl last night. We were just equals.
Let me start at the beginning. Where else? Ha!
I dressed extra cute: dark green corduroys, red rubber boots, a white shirt, a red wool reindeer-pattern sweater, a white ski jacket, and green mittens. It was perfect because Christmas lights are up all over the place and I embodied the holiday spirit. When I got to his street I didn’t even need to read the house numbers because I could tell which of the cheesy new town houses was his by the massive book and DVD collection in the front window.
When he opened the door he looked so different I was shocked. He has a beard now. No, not a bushy ugly one, thank god. A short one with sexy gray in it.
I said “Look at you!”
“What about me?”
“The beard.”
“Oh, right. I always grow one when I’m working too hard. You like it?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Good. Come in.”
He was wearing a black cashmere sweater over a white T-shirt and his usual faded jeans. No shoes. His socks were thick gray. He looked strong and broad-shouldered. I get so used to being with Rory who is cute, skinny and practically pubeless that it’s easy to forget what a real man looks like. I was carrying a bottle of red wine that I stole from my mom. Dan took it out of my hands and quickly shut the door behind me. He was scared the neighbors would see!
Except for being bigger, the new place looks a lot like the old one. There is only a little new furniture. Some of it is more modern than I would expect him to like.
He smiled at my holiday outfit and said “You’re awfully festive.”
“You like it?”
“Are you kidding? You’re an adorable snow elf.”
“Christmas is my favorite holiday.”
“You could make a Muslim convert.”
“That’s my goal.”
Usually we don’t kiss until at least a half hour after I get there and I always make the first move, but not this time. He reached out and took both ends of my scarf and pulled me until our lips touched. Then he kept kissing me all the way to the couch. We fell down on it. Man, did he miss me! It was crazy hot! “Major grindage,” as Rory would say, and then he started ripping my clothes off until all I was wearing were my socks and he was performing his oral specialty. I didn’t explode but I got as close as I’ve ever gotten with another person in the room.
Afterwards he was lying there breathing hard with his cheek resting on my hip bone. He was smiling up at me all proud because he thought he had succeeded. No way was I going to tell him the truth. Whenever I tell guys I only cum when I am alone in the bathtub with my trusty shower hose, they go crazy wanting to be my first. But the harder they work at it the more I think and the more I think the more impossible it is for it to happen.
I really wanted to give Dan another box job but I didn’t want it to seem like I was doing it just because I felt obligated. Anyway I didn’t even have to decide, because Dad jumped up and handed me my clothes. All I put back on was my T-shirt. Not even my underwear. Usually I’m pretty modest once we stop fooling around but I thought it would be fun hanging out like this. I was right. I felt grown up, sexy and European.
This would normally be the time when we would raid the fridge for junk food and he would start hinting that it was time for me to go. Not last night! Instead he called a restaurant and ordered lasagna and Greek salad, lit some candles and opened the wine I brought. I was sort of in shock but I didn’t say anything. We ate on the counter in his brand-new kitchen. Everything was so clean it was almost scary, like eating in a chem lab. He told me how insane and depressing everything has been with Martine lately. He said that one night she screamed at him so loud he came close to hitting her. The next day he passed his neighbor on the way to the car and was too embarrassed to even look at him.
“You ought to dump her,” I said very casually, chewing a garlic ball like it didn’t matter to me one way or the other.
He said he would love to except that once before they met she tried to kill herself by cutting her wrists the wrong way and he was scared she might try it again. He said he could not live with the guilt. I understood that. The good thing about Rory is that when I dump him, no way he’ll kill himself. He’ll just kill me. Hahaha!
Later Dan said that the one thing he has learned from his mostly terrible relationships is “never to try to save anyone.” He said every single one of his girlfriends was “a wounded bird.” He said trying to fix their broken wings was futile. First of all it hardly ever works, so most of the time you end up stuck with this needy, depressed, one-winged person, who you eventually dump, which makes you feel incredibly guilty. But on the tiny chance that it does work and the person starts to become less insane and damaged, then they hate you for knowing them when they were a disaster. They can’t wait to fly away on their two working wings and find a new boyfriend who has no clue what a mess they were before. Either way you end up alone and unhappy. Dan says he knows Martine’s never going to get better and that it’s just a matter of time before he dumps her, but he would like to find a gentle, kind way to do it so that she doesn’t reach for a razor blade again.
“You really think she’d do that?” I asked. “You’re positive she’s that into you?”
He laughed. “I guess I could be wrong. Maybe I’m just flattering myself. Maybe she’d move on like I
never existed. Man, would that be sweet.”
Back on the couch, finishing off the bottle of wine, I told him some details about me and Rory. I used my favorite line, how the thing I love most about Rory is that he loves me. How I’m not in love with him at all but that I’m afraid to dump him because I’m scared of being alone. How since I was 11 years old, I have had a boyfriend every single minute except for about three months.
“So you’re just staying with him to satisfy your own selfish needs?”
“You got it, pal.”
“I guess we’re both narcissists then.”
“No way! I hate my stomach way too much!”
“Shut up. You have a beautiful body.”
I pinched my pooch and told him I was going to get liposuction.
He howled with laughter.
“It’s as tight as a snare drum!”
He’s wrong.
We discussed narcissism for a long time. He said it doesn’t mean being in love with yourself, the way most people think. He said that Narcissus in Greek mythology was in love with his own reflection in a pool of water. An image of himself. Which is different. In other words narcissists fall in love with how they think the world sees them. I didn’t really get it, so Dan used me and Rory as an example. He said I go out with Rory because I like seeing myself the way he sees me. I use him like a pond of water or a big living mirror. Rory’s idea of me feeds my starving ego. If I truly loved myself I wouldn’t need him for this.
Normally I would have been offended, because what he said was pretty insulting, but I could tell he wasn’t judging me. How could he? He suffers from the same condition. I told him he was right. I basically only see Rory when I feel like shit because I know he’ll tell me how beautiful and sexy I am. And in bed what turns me on is not that he’s a good lover. It’s that he gets so turned on! I love that my body drives him insane. I feel like a porn star or something. My bad mood goes away.
“But not for very long, right?”
“Maybe an hour.”
“There you go.”
We smiled at each other.
This was the first time we’d ever had a really serious conversation about our lives. Usually he just teaches me about film and I ask insightful questions. I crawled over and kissed him. When it started to get hot again, he got scared and pushed me onto my side. We spooned for a while not talking.
Finally I said, pretty much to myself, not really expecting an answer “I wonder why my self-esteem is so shitty.”
“Considering your relationship with your dad, it would be a miracle if it weren’t.”
I rolled over and looked him in the eye, because this was important. “There’s something I’ve never told you. Besides being a stingy asshole, my dad’s also the world’s worst alcoholic. He has cirrhosis. He’s going to die from it soon and he’s only fifty-four.”
What a stare he gave me.
I laughed and said “I know what that look means. It means you’re going to tell me to stop drinking again.”
He didn’t deny it. I pretended to slap him. He caught my hand and kissed my fingers. Then we made out some more. Then he tucked a piece of my hair behind my ear. The way he gazed at me you’d swear he was madly in love.
“If I’d met you when I was in college,” he said, “I would have worshiped you just like Rory does. I would have been a jealous maniac too.”
“You mean you don’t worship me now?”
“I cherish you. It’s different.”
“Better?”
“Much. The thing about being put on a pedestal is you take one step and you fall face-first in the mud.”
God, I love brains.
Compared to Dan, Rory is a full-fledged dunce.
After we washed the dishes, Dan filled the bong and put on a French film called The Grand Highway. It was absolutely enchanting. Every action in the movie, even the simplest things like fishing, meant so much more than the obvious. (The symbol for Jesus Christ is the fish.) But then as usual the pot kicked in and the whole room started spinning. I thought “What the hell, I might never see him again.” So I crawled off the couch, knelt down, unbuttoned his jeans and gave him the longest, most amazing blow job in the history of French cinema. He laid there afterwards smiling at the ceiling and said “This might be the greatest date ever.”
Yay! I agree!
When I got home, my mom and Mark Aubichon had just gotten back from a party. They looked at me funny, probably because of my beard-burned face and stoned happy eyes. I ran upstairs, laughing. Mark thinks I’m a slut but I don’t give a shit. Hahaha!
I’ve wasted half the day writing this. Why? Because I promised you I would and I’m a slut who keeps her word. My weekend’s half over. What shall I do tonight? Know what I want to do? Nothing. Yup, you heard me. Just lie in bed and dream about last night, playing it over and over again in my head. A gyrl is only happy to stay home alone on a Saturday night when she’s truly in love.
My PMS will be starting any second now. So unfair. I’m sick of being sad. I want to stay smiling forever.
Sunday, December 9, 2007
Last night after I blogged, instead of doing nothing, Jade and Rory convinced me to go out. Normally I would never hang out with them together. They hate each other’s guts. But last night they were both so desperate to see me I made an exception. Jade needed to see me because she dumped her new boyfriend. Turns out he has herpes and didn’t tell her until after about the 20th time they boned without a condom. Oops! Sorry! And Rory needed to see me because his balls were deep, deep blue. He’d never say that, of course. He says he misses my pretty face.
I made sure I drove so that if they started fighting I could escape. I warned them both that if they didn’t play nice I’d strand them on the side of the road like red-haired foster kids. Ha! To balance things out Rory invited Willy Schmidt to come with. He’s the only one of Rory’s roommates I like and the only one who’s not in the band. He’s stocky but kind of soft like he’s never worked out a day in his life. He has a big smile and a blondish Afro and wears football jerseys with his jeans. (It’s forgivable because he wants to be a sports agent someday.) Willy is one of the sweetest, smartest, funniest guys you’ll ever meet, and if I wasn’t so superficial I’d marry him.
We went to a movie called Awake which Jade heard was amazing. When it was over, Rory and Jade were so busy drooling over Jessica Alba’s ass they didn’t bother to mention that the movie was dreadful. The epitome of everything Dan and I despise about Hollywood. Thank god Willy agreed with me or I would have had to drive all of us into a tree. Next time I see Dan I will give him my vicious review. He jokes that he counts on me to keep him current on pop culture. He says I save him a fortune in movie tickets.
Rory wanted to go to this cool new strip club where he knows the bouncer, but Jade’s mom was out on one of her rare dates, so we decided to take advantage and hang out at her big tacky house instead. Jade’s dad moved out when Jade was in about the fifth grade. He had a sick love of mirrors and marble. You have never seen so much of both. The house looks like a giant bathroom. You can’t even eat at their dining room table because the whole time you’re seeing nine of yourself.
We got extremely high in the den which is still filled with her dad’s gold-painted furniture and books in Persian. Almost as soon as we turned on the T V, Jade and Willy got lost so Rory could maul me. We boned right there on the leather couch which stuck to my ass and made weird farting sounds whenever he pumped. It made me laugh, which pissed Rory off, because he said if I were really into it I would not even hear the sound. Oops, sorry. Guess I’m not that into it then.
Jade didn’t inform me of this until later, but while Rory and I were in the den, she and Willy were in the kitchen. She leaned back against the fridge, grabbed his head, tongue-kissed him then pushed him down to his knees. And he did it! He lifted her denim skirt and ate her like a poodle! With all the lights on. And mirrors everywhere. The last thing I would want to look at during sex is a h
undred copies of my own bright thighs.
“But you don’t even like him!” I said.
Jade replied “I don’t need to like a guy to let him give me head. I can even hate him. Just as long as he knows what he’s doing.”
Her eyes looked shiny and evil for a second. It really kind of scared me. But maybe I just imagined it because I feel so protective about Willy.
So that was my night. I should have just stayed home, right? Why is it so hard to stay home on a Saturday night? Why do we always think something exciting and new is going to happen when it never does?
A psycho opened fire today at a church in Colorado, killing four people before a security guard shot him dead. I’ve seen many news stories like this before, but watching this one I cried like a little bitch. Why? Because I am a deep person? Because my heart is full of compassion? Because I love my fellow man? For a second I thought it was all three. Then I realized it was none of the above. Hormones, baby!
I just called my dad to inform him that my big birthday is less than a week away. Since he is off the hook about the car, I’m hoping maybe he’ll be so relieved he’ll give me something really good. He wasn’t home. I left a hinting message.
Wendola95 wrote to me, laughing her ass off that when I was describing my big date with Dan, I wrote “Dad” instead of “Dan.” Thank you so much. If you were not 13 years old I would hunt you down and kick your teeny-weeny ass.
Monday, December 10, 2007
Undiscovered Gyrl: The novel that inspired the movie ASK ME ANYTHING (Vintage Contemporaries) Page 6