Anticlimax

21:34, 08 May 2003

I'm done. I took my last exam today. I think I did very well on it: a policy class in Criminal Law, dealing with topics like California's Three Strikes Law, the pitfalls of eyewitness ID and false confessions, racism, racial profiling, drug prohibition, etc. Really interesting class that has affected my view of the world. But wait, why am I still talking about classes? Why are my words not spitting exclamation-points of joy all over the page?

I stood on the steps outside the law school after the exam. My hands looked thin and bluish against the cream-coloured sleeve of my sweater. Against the warm brown of Piyush's hand. My fingers shook a little where they held the cigarette. We stood, in different states of blankness. His mind in standby mode during his break from frenetic studying; mine slowing down after a marathon three-hour purge of knowledge onto paper.

I should have been happy, I suppose. Happy to skip off to my car, flee the campus, the library, the soda machine perpetually sold out of Pepsi One, the cramped study rooms with uncomfortable chairs. We finished our cigarettes and I realised I wanted to go up to the library with him. I found myself wishing I had more to study.

"What is your plan for the rest of the day?" he asked, skewering the question that had been flopping desperately around in my head like a fish on the deck of a boat. I had no plan. Early evening and the time stretched, as it always does for me, far and waste and empty. He is all I have right now, in the least Wordsworth of ways, and he had other priorities. What was my plan for the rest of the day? The blankness perpetuated in my mind.

On my way home I called everyone I know here in LA. That means I called Angie, Limes and Lee-Ann. Lee-Ann is going to dinner and a movie with Greg. I begged Angie to take me out with her and she invited me to go with a whole bunch of her friends that I don't know to this birthday party of someone I don't know. I accepted, taking what I could get. Commenced champagne IV drip.

Piyush called. Bored. Going home. "What is your plan for the evening?" and "Call me if you're not doing anything with your friends; I'll be here for a drink, yeah?"

I think you can fill in my thought process from here, like the most elemental of connect-the-dots. In an effort to pretend I'm not as desperate and pathetic as I really am, I told him I was having dinner with a friend and would call him when I finished. What this means is that I have an excuse to:
a) take a taxi to his place (claiming, of course, to be dropped off by said imaginary friend), meaning that I can drink w/o DUI concerns and maybe, just maybe, he'll ask me to stay over (although that is such a long-shot that the bookie won't even put odds on it),
b) wear a cute outfit and makeup and generally look hotter than I did when I came out of my exam today.

OK, I am now wearing low-rise burgundy pants, a simple black sleeveless top, simple yet elegant makeup, Clinique Happy perfume (honestly, fuck his comments! I got it free during Bonus Days and I'm gonna wear it!)... Now, Hippo, don't get disappointed if he just wants to have one rum & diet Coke and watch TV. Don't get these fucked up expectations... you know he has exams and all that. Just enjoy the unexpected pleasure of getting to hang out with him on a night that you thought you'd be alone and lonely.

Quick lie check: I went to Locanda del Lago in Santa Monica with Angie, where I shared caprese with her and ate roasted lamb with rosemary for my main. We shared a bottle of Pinot Noir. No dessert. She picked me up and hence dropped me off at Piyush's on the way back to her house in Hollywood. (Is it frightening to you that I have absolutely no qualms with my constant and total manipulation of the truth? Or maybe it doesn't surprise you, since I'm (almost) a lawyer. Truth is malleable.)

FYI

18:38, 08 May 2003

A - Act your age?
No. Sometimes act older (professional situations, etc.), often act younger (social situations).

B - Born on what day of the week?
Thursday

C - Chore you hate?
As opposed to the ones I like? OK, fine. Vacuuming is second only to "wet" chores: any that involve water. Since that covers basically every chore there is, I have a cleaning lady.

D - Dad's name?
Peter

E - Essential makeup item?
Concealer

F - Favorite actor?
Edward Norton

G - Gold or silver?
Platinum

H - Hometown?
Small, rich and WASPy.

I - Instruments you play?
Piano, barely. Violin, apparently. Flute for 4 years, under protest. Recorder, just like every other American schoolchild.

J - Job?
Incurring debt.

K - Kids?
The voices in my head.

L - Living arrangements?
One-bedroom apartment on the 10th floor overlooking a garden. No balcony, though.

M - Mom's name?
Siw

N - Name what you've eaten so far today:
1/4 c. cottage cheese topped with a packet of ketchup. 1 c. corn soup. 10 almonds.

O - Overnight hospital stays?

Two. "More morphine please!"

P - Phobia?
Social situations, rejection, smalltalk.

Q - Quote you like?
I must plough my furrow alone. That is my fate, agreeable or the reverse; but before I get to the end of that furrow it is possible that I may find myself not alone. (Lord Rosebery)

R - Religious affiliation?
Lutheran.

S - Siblings?
None.

T - Time you wake up?
Never after 7, try as I might.

U - Unique habit?
If I tell you, you'll do it too, and then it won't be unique, will it?

V - Vegetable you refuse to eat?
Beets. Celery. Fennel. Potatoes. Brussels sprouts.

W - Worst habit?
Needless anxiety.

X - X-rays you've had?
Besides teeth, two: once ankle for lacrosse injury, once shoulder for car accident injury.

Y - Yummy food you make?
Pretty much everything I make is yummy, since I'm an awesome cook. But I'd have to say my carrot cake.

Z - Zodiac Sign?
Virgo

Litterae Mortuae

09:59, 08 May 2003

I suppose an explanation is in order, since all my Diaryland buddies are now burning Piyush in effigy for his "fat legs" comment. I seem to be the only one laughing about it; truly, it didn't bother me that much, since I have come to some realisations about him.

First, as I've mentioned before, I have few body issues when it comes to concern that men will like/be turned-on by my body. This, I realise, is an odd sort of twist for someone with more general body-image issues and self-esteem issues. I spent most of college proving to myself that guys find me attractive. From a guy's perspective, I know (on a good day) that I have a hot body, by FHM magazine standards. I'm 5'11", blonde, blue eyes and I dress in a classy, yet sexy way that hides the flaws in my figure. I see the way they look at me; I hear their drunken compliments as their hands slide lewdly across my body.

Of course, no one wants to have their stomach flab pinched, no matter how minimal it may be. No one wants their boyfriend to tell them they have fat legs. But one has to see some hypocrisy in these words, when the actions are screaming "I want you! You are so hot!" He cannot keep his hands off me: off that supposedly flabby stomach and fat legs. He actually says incongrous things like, "I love your stomach," when we're hooking up.

Perhaps I intimidate him, which would explain the dearth of compliments and the "kidding" negative comments that are so inconsistent with his nonverbal attitude towards my body. I don't think of myself as intimidating, but many guys have told me as much before, including Piyush, the night he kissed me. I was going to say here that I think he's not that sexually experienced, either, given how it takes a bit of wine to get him to really kiss me in a make-out sort of way (although I could say that is because it takes some wine for him to be able to get over the disgust of kissing me... but that would be a little self-depreciating, eh?). His bra-removal skills are average, so that tells me little. I did some research last night at dinner, plumbing him for info on any previous relationships he may have had. It turns out he had a two-year relationship with a British girl at Cardiff, which makes me say, "Hmm..."

Anyway, I suppose my theory is weaker on paper than it once seemed in my head. Suffice it to say that the "fat legs" comment didn't really bother me. I was giving him shit about it last night on IM, telling him I would not stand for evil comments unless they were complemented by positive comments. He said my hair looked nice today, which it did, thanks to new highlights and a blow-out. Thank you.

Finally, I should like to post the lyrics to a song which I find apropos to my newfound power in my relationship with Piyush:

Surprised you to find that I'm laughing?
You thought that you'd find me in tears
You thought I'd be crawling the walls
Like a tiny mosquito and trembling in fear

Well you may be king for the moment
But I am a queen, understand?
And I've got your pawns and your bishops and castles
All inside the palm of my hand

Chorus:
While you were looking the other way
While you had your eyes closed
While you were licking your lips
'Cause I was miserable;
While you were selling your soul
While you were tearing a hole in me

I was taking control

Now I have taken control
Now I have taken control...

This is beginning to feel good
Watching you squirm in your shoes
A small bead of sweat on your brow
And a growl in your belly your scared to let through

You thought you could keep me from loving
You thought you could feed on my soul
But while you were busy destroying my life
What was half in me has become whole

(Chorus)

So this is how it feels
To breathe in the summer air
The feel the sand between my toes
And love inside my ear.
All those things that you taught me to fear
I've got them in my garden now
And you're not welcome here

Come a little bit closer
Let me look at you
I gave you the benefit
Of the doubt it's true
But keep in mind, my darling
Not every saint is a fool...