Mon 30 Jan 78
Jervaze and I were supposed to go out Sat night – I had the day shift and he said he’d pick me up. I waited 20 mins before going to his apt.
There he was with a little blond beard on his chin – lying on the sofa very depressed. Told me to go to the concert without him. By myself?
Wouldn’t that be fun! I was aghast – tried arguing with him – he said he wasn’t leaving the apt. So I said I’d stay with him. Went out and bought fish and chips and beer. We watched Sahara, then Saturday Night Live.
Pitiable. Made love in the shower. In the AM he refused to come out to breakfast with me, and I really had to go home to the dogs. He gave me a good hug when I left but do I want to drag this inert man through all the stages of intimacy?
Called him today, he was very blue. Homesick as
always. Takes alcohol for depression! Can’t figure out whether to go over there or leave him alone. I really need a better invitation – my choice is to stay away.
I don’t think he’s actually SUICIDAL although if he stopped drinking, he might be. And how could I tell? He still has his car so he’s either asking too much for it or he’s doing nothing about his problems. I bet the latter’s the case. Reading The Letters of Charles Dickens in conjunction with the Life. Decorated A’s old room with Dad’s old charts –
– looks pretty good.
Dancing well – I can’t give a bad set. Remembering what Devon said about skiing – the body does the right thing – if you “get out“ of its way. J came in – in a much better mood. (Some new “magic” elixir, no doubt.) He must have called to get my schedule because I didn’t tell him. Asked him if he wanted me to “drop by” after work – he said it was “up to me”. A question of wanting what you get.
I think the traditional male female role thing may be reversed in our case. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was one of those pretty guys who’s always been pursued and as a result he feels like a “thing”. Never developed a self, so to speak. This is what comes of being so hung up on beauty. But when I look at the assemblage of clowns, predators and weirdos soliciting for my hand my heart fails me.
Wrote a difficult letter to Devon in which I answered
(long overdue) his about Gwynne and frankly (but with masterful subtlety) –
went all out to make him jealous of J. Cheap of me, but I have to have some fun. He started it: we are reduced to bragging about our dance cards.
I don’t think you can truly have a “passionate” relationship with a guy who doesn’t want exclusivity because of then of necessity you’re required to hold something back. Dad called, says he’s sending me more stock “for tax reasons” (I.e. it’s really mine and they’re making him.) Then said in a very depressed way, “I suppose you want to sell it.” I wanted to surprise him by saying NO but that would leave me feeling manipulated so I said it depends on my royalty statement (which it does.) Due in 3 weeks.
Mon midnight 6 Feb 78
Fri night J was in the bar getting slowly snockered. Very proud to take me home. We had our most passionate sex session yet –
– 5 hours! Of course he couldn’t come. We finally quit because I was exhausted. I am out of love with Tantric sex. He told me the sexiest thing I do is play with my breasts when we make love! I only do it because he doesn’t! The big lug.
He asked me what I would do if I accidentally got pregnant.
(He knows about IUD.) I said have the baby. Of course I didn’t
tell him that I might not inform him of the fact – depends on him
and the state of our relationship.
Which raises the important question: do I want
an alcoholic baby? Wouldn’t you be watching it throughout childhood to see if it favored rum candy? He said he hoped we’d get married because a child needs a father. I think this might be the way an Alabamian proposes. Surprising how totally un-good it felt. I almost got as depressed as he is. Jervaze, who has the beauty of an angel-god, is no better than a drifter. Even I am shocked by my own taste. His life is guaranteed to go from bad to worse because of his fatal Hamlet-like inability to take charge. Clearly he needs to be the full time project of some managing woman. This is bringing out all my masculine characteristics, some of which, frankly, I was hoping never to see again. I am also bothered by the fact that he can’t have serious conversations. I would say he absolutely does not know me at all, and appears satisfied with that.
I probably also don’t know him, although I am beginning to face the fact that there may be nothing to know.
The drama of my own existence is important to me.
There’s a full cast of characters and A LOT OF PLOT SURPRISES
and he hasn’t even opened the book. It’s frustrating because it makes everything less meaningful. I feel I’m in a bind, though, because he’s definitely the best of the bunch in all the bars I’ve danced. Most attendees are married men looking for fantasy, fun and excitement. They are the dancers’ favorite because they’re established, generous and sometimes they actually leave their wives. This happened with Ryder –
– although he always insisted (and I believed) it wasn’t me, it was him.
(And her, presumably). The best you can do is “catch them on the cusp” of divorce. The “singles” men come in three kinds – total losers who can’t manage a relationship and that’s what they’re doing in a bar like this, guys who need you to quit the minute you start dating them because “no girlfriend of mine” blah blah blah. (More R). The third is guys who are fine with you dancing – in fact they want to be your manager. Several dancers have fallen for these guys and often they marry them. He buys their costumes, drives them to and fro, bargains with the club owner and even looks after the kids.
The good ones don’t just drain her money, date the competition or beat her up.
(Those are rare. But exist. I’ve met them.) Only now she can’t ever quit!
Take Lida for example. Lida’s in her 40’s and can’t be seen in the light of day. Although she has a perfect body, she is real scary in close up –
– gets the worst clubs and shifts – here she is strictly a fill-in. One dancer and her boyfriend live in a van, going from club to club. He sits in the bar for every set and that has to be OK with the management.
This would seem to mean my parents are right that I can’t meet nice men because of my job, and although I don’t want to go all apocalyptic, it is hard to see how this can get better. I could meet someone through my writing –
if I were a different kind of more public person but I just can’t seem to change. (I’m getting happier and happier Being Me.) Probably my best bet is to go back to college –
– I’ve been wanting to – take a class here and there (a lot of dancers do this) and
date guys without letting them know what I do for work until I know them really well. Money is the problem there. More capital expense. I make good money and I should be able to afford it, however it doesn’t combine well with my plans to take time off and travel. I would have to work constantly which so far I have been too spoiled to do. A light schedule keeps dancing fresh for me –
– it’s also good for my writing. So I should probably compromise and
take one class – something nice and cheap like adult ed at the community college. I’ll think about it.
Sat night J was all withdrawn again. I don’t think he wants me to coax out of him what the problem is; I think when he is in that mood he really just wants me to go away. So I do. Avril says I’m being an idiot – that he is clearly in love with me – in her definition, I’ve “arrived”. I could get him to move in with me, structure his time and tell him what to do.
Maybe that’s what he wants but it certainly isn’t what I want.
He’s so depressed about his family — and it is too late to lie to them about what I do because his brother (whom I’ve still never met) “already knows”. Could I change my name and get away with being someone else entirely? Tell me again why should I go to those lengths?
He would just appall my parents. This would confirm every bad thing about me they’ve ever said (and they’ve said a lot). It’s really one of those tragic Victorian love stories (The Tenant of Wildfell Hall) except that maybe its more SCI fi because we’re from different PLANETS. I’m beginning to think he’s actually “cast off” by his family –
– that’s his deep dark secret. His alcoholic behavior “ruined” him in his
hometown somehow. (He did graduate high school. He says.) He’s the horrible albatross from the Coleridge poem (or he’s trying to shift it off onto me.) Under the apparently inexorable rules of sexual attraction, once again he’s a weird mirror image of me. But instead of being a drunk (which my parents would prefer) I’m a poet. Probably in the South it all comes to the same thing. In the North it’s almost the same. Here we’ve got actual mental illness thrown into the mix.)
Can’t say my advice which is he ought to write them off . He totally buys into their rejection and who knows, maybe it will save him in the end. “Dump your family” was my advice to my ex-husband, so possibly it’s me who has the problem.
Mom and Dad asked if Jervaze was an intellectual and I said,
“Well, he’s reading my book.” I didn’t tell them he’s been reading it for the past two months with no end in sight. I don’t dare even comment on it.
It snowed about 20 hours – that’s another thing I like about J –
– he lives right next to the club. It’s hard on my dogs – but so would my death on the roads be.
Ryder called today – 3rd time in a month. He acted very loving and considerate – I don’t believe it for a minute. Now he’s worried about my health – wants to bring me homemade chicken soup, etc. I don’t rise to these flies any more and it feels so good. Any desire I may have had to see the flesh ripped from his bones with red-hot razorblades has ebbed.
I take that as progress. I look forward to seeing him again because I think it would be great to feel nothing.
Alysse Aallyn 
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