let's go sexin

There is the urge to go into detail and recount the whole evening, each turn in the conversation, each instance of physical contact - and I am going to resist that urge as best I can because I am not sure who I am trying to convince, if I would be doing so, spinning the narrative just so in order to convince you, or if it would really be to convince myself. And either way, until I can figure out the answer to that, until I can tell myself that I am not trying to convince anyone, a lie surely, for what would be the purpose in this, any of this diarying, I think it is in my best interests in becoming the type of person I want to be and to reign it in just a little. Just the facts, ma'am.

But yes, this narrative starts where I left off yesterday, having run into Matt at the bank, telling him I would see him at Metropolitan. I was giddy, insanely giddy for the rest of the day, in those hours in between then and my arrival at Metropolitan just because I was excited that Matt was nice to me, excited that he was nice to me after having read those messages I sent him, and interpreting this to mean, that surely, he wanted to hook up. In between my two encounters with him, I was watching for the second and the third time A Dirty Shame, watching it two more times before having to return it, just as I used to do younger with John Waters movies, watching them over and over again. I think I know every line of Hairspray, having seen it countless times. This new movie of his gets so much right, mostly Tracy Ullman's sex manias. Obviously, I am not as outrageous as she is, but mentally in those moments where I am sex crazed, I have those same urges and it is so awesome to see her running from house to house looking for a sex partner, screaming, "Somebody finish me off!" I giggle so much because I can sympathize so much and perhaps in a more perfect world I would behave a little more like her, everyone would. This movie, as much as it was panned, has moved me more than anything else I have seen recently - and surely this has a lot to do with my John Waters obsession from high school, and when I ran into Matt at the bar, this was one of the first things I talked to him about, this movie.

And here is Matt in the three comments he made in response. This is him in whole and everything I admire and detest about him:

Oh yeah, I saw that in the theater. The stress being on theater, emphasizing that he saw it earlier, because you know being the first to see something is so hip, and sort of dismissing the practice of watching it on video, of being so behind what is culturally relevant.

It's not as good as his earlier stuff. Because it's always the case that the earlier stuff is better, and I tried probing him more about this, asking exactly which earlier stuff, that his stuff was never good in a cinematic sense but amazing nonetheless, and with furrowed brow, he asked if I'd seen Desperate Living, and I had but he didn't really tell me how that was better in a more significant sense than A Dirty Shame. The only reason it is better, or most of the reason, is because it is not that common, most people haven't seen it and as long as it's obscure and doesn't have wide distribution, it is obviously cool. But Waters is one of the few directors I have seen everything by, including his early shorts when they were shown at New Museum, and so I was well prepared to talk about any of this early stuff. And then number three that encapsulates his snottiness and his appeal:

It's just like Juxtapoz Magazine, that kitschiness, they do it better. And when I said I didn't know that magazine, that was the end of our rallying the ball back and forth, he made this sneer like yeah, you wouldn't know that magazine, happy that he had spiked the ball unable for me to return it. And now, of course, I have to find a copy of this magazine and see if he was not just talking out of his ass. But the confidence required to act as if you are artistically hip and aware of everything, which basically just requires being dismissive of everything, really amazes me and sadly, or not (I can't decide) is why I have always been so attracted to him. Because really, it is not often that I can't return the shot. Normally, I behave a little like Matt, acting as if I know more than most people and sort of laughing off their interests as unhip, uncool, poor taste, or a little behind the curve.

There is that LCD Soundsystem song, "Losing My Edge" that can serve as the soundtrack to these paragraphs because really that's what it is. I have read all the "hip" authors that you are just getting around to thinking about reading. I know who has a show up where and whether it's good or not and what the art critics have said about it. I know the discography of that band, whose song you really liked dancing to at that bar. And yes, it's snotty to say this, but really, this is how I feel when I talk to people sometimes and they express enthusiasms for things I was into a long time ago. I don't roll my eyes like Matt or furrow my brow in exhaustion and for that reason, that is why I like talking to him. Because it is boring to play tennis with someone who is not as good as you and can't return the serves. It is so much more fun to play with someone who can kick your ass, make you jog back and forth across the court, inspires you to play better. And really that is a horrible analogy to apply to cultural snobbery, but that is what it is like, I am impressed that he references things I do not know. There he is in a nutshell. Add to the fact that he is my height, slim, has brown hair and really nice hands and that is why I am attracted to him.

I have already gone back on my word, saying I wouldn't go into details, am here taking multiple paragraphs to analyze three sentences of his. But it was so weird and there were times when it seemed as if he was hitting on me and times where the opposite seemed true and I want to make sense of it, but that is useless, a waste of the day, and really I do want to go see Billy Graham tonight, so I need to move along here if this entry is ever to come to completion.

We talked about me being a sex worker, he guilt tripped me about it in major ways, asking what if I ever wanted a job. I told him that I was never going to be an elected official - that there are already videos of me jacking off floating around - and here is where a bomb was dropped. He said: I know, I saw them.

Uh.

I was so thrown my this, didn't believe him and he named the website and then I knew that he had. I asked him how he had found them and he told me, making it twenty times more embarrassing that Kevin had found them and told him about it. I tried asking him how Kevin had found them. Matt claimed to not know, and I didn't ask the question that was provoking my questioning of the source. I did not ask, "Does Kevin read my diary?" because I did not want Matt or Kevin to know I had a diary if he didn't already know. But the only other person I know who has found this random porn site was Josh, who reads my diary and pieced together a couple clues to find them. I was wondering if Kevin had done something similar. So perhaps, Hi Kevin! Maybe?

Where am I going with this? Eventually I asked him about those messages and if casual sex was an option, he said no, that is was not in either of our interests, said that I was crazy. I was ready to go home at this point and was seriously not upset about it, was looking at Matt and studying how easy it would be to see him as unattractive, as boorish and I was doing well making this how I viewed him. I talked to some other friends, finished my beer and began to leave when I saw Matt still at the bar, whom I thought had left. Sitting there on a barstool in these booty shorts alone, I went and talked to him some more, eventually ended up petting his leg. And he rubbed his knee against my crotch and so I began to assume that hooking up was going to happen. I had another beer, talked to him more, and it seemed like I was definitely going home with him, but you know that did not happen already, and so the story plays out even though the ending, the right ending doesn't occur, or perhaps the right ending does. Done with our beers, leaning against him, my hands on his ass, him being really friendly, I told him I was leaving and that the should come home with me. He told me that that was not right, that it was wrong to go home together. And I was admittedly a little shocked by this after his seemingly flirty behavior, but yes he said no and so I gave up a second time and went home, waking up Niki in my living room to complain to her in detail about my evening.

And really, you've just got to let it all out sometimes in detail, give the full narrative, and so since I did that last night, my desire to go into specific details has already been filled even though you may not think so given the length of this entry, but had I not talked to Niki, not gotten the chance to discuss these things, I would have done so with you and it would have been even longer, way longer, and way more pathetic sounding. Luckily, talking to Niki, I realized things I probably would not have realized just talking to you, because you wouldn't have been able to interrupt the narrative, telling me that I shouldn't do these things, making me realize that yes, you are right, that yes, Matt is right, that it would have been weird and wrong, however fun it may have been, and I need to get a sex partner, man oh man, do I. And last night, I kept thinking to A Dirty Shame and my sympathies with all the sex maniacs in that town - how sometimes you just want that pleasure and don't care about the costs, don't give a damn, just want to get off - and last night, self control (the little I sometimes have) was gone because talking to Matt I had a boner and I just wanted to be rolling around naked with this specific boy and in my mind, I am running through those streets sex crazed as well, asking anyone I encounter. Just lost to your passions, and not caring about anything else.