guest post 10

More from Kep:

The Ocean bloggerette herself (nlc) suggested that I tell you something about relationships. Specifically: my relationships. I think she thinks they are totally weird and therefore good posting material.

Fine. But let me say this first: however you read this post, I do not think that I am a mean kind of guy. I’m not demanding either. The women in my life have left me because they did not understand the complicated way I function under emotional pressure. (Did I already say how awesome it is to write anonymously?)

I do get prickly when people, okay women-type people, claim they understand my little quirks and then six months into the relationship – whammo! – it’s suddenly an issue that I like my toes rubbed in a certain way. Six months they rub and tickle and pinch and then suddenly it’s ew, you’re gross and too demanding and don’t ever ask me to do it again! But you knew this about me! It’s not like I was going to change something so major! I’m speaking metaphorically here. I don’t really like having my toes rubbed.

My current love interest is different. Let’s call her Jill the Pill. Jill and I, we have been damn mean to each other from like day two. So it’s the sex that keeps it alive, you say. Bullshit. I mean, sure, sex is sex. But the real reason we keep at each other is that there is this Magnetic Force coming from Mother Earth herself and it does weird things to your insides. I’ll be damned if I know how else to explain it. I know that I do not have the strength to resist The Force. When Jill’s there again, vibrating the cell in my pocket, I crumble faster than overcooked bacon. At least until we turn all mean again. This has been going on for a long long time.

How does this post relate to the Ocean author? Nina and I have talked about this and she told me how she had to jump an ocean to avoid repeatedly going back to a certain dude who, I am told, tortured her inside and out for like five or six years straight (I don’t know how she was to him; women never give you that kind of info about themselves – they’re all honest and full of revelations about how the other person is to them, but about their own behavior? Zippo. For all I know, she kicked his ass hard).

Jumping an ocean. That’s kind of drastic. I couldn’t do it. For one, I don’t think I’d fit in with the French, even though I love ‘em all to pieces. And the Italian women would drive me insane. I heard they really scream during sex. Ever see that Italian movie, was it by Lina Wertmuller? Like maybe the Seduction of Mimi? Man, that woman could not keep quiet!

But I admire Nina for ditching the Polish dude in the end. Just as I know that any year now, Jill and I will split for good. Hell, you have got to keep the cruel stuff way suppressed, at least until the waning years of life when you can let it loose, knowing that no woman’s going to dump you at a time when you are still capable of taking her to the hospital for her hip replacement surgery or something.