I take your advice and the results are in…

9 Apr

Upon the advice of a friend, I have been changing up my wardrobe a little bit lately.
Artists should wear black.

I tend to gravitate towards color in my real life wardrobe, but for the purpose of selling myself as an artist, I have been advised by people who are art gurus that I should wear black as it is a better reflection of my work.

This resulted in me buying two black shirts a couple of days ago.
They called my name.

This weekend I had a big art show that was put on by one of the well established gallery owners of the bay area arts scene. Typically the gallery owner does is transform a warehouse of sorts into an art gallery for the evening. My favorite was probably the one at this house in Treasure island, but this time they rented out a house in Richmond….its sort of a model home that is up for sale so its very empty and there was plenty of room for artists and DJs.

There’s all these random people at this place that I’ve never met before. It’s really packed. Genevieve is there handling drinks. She asks me where my guy is.

That guy.
The same guy.
I say we aren’t really dating, so he isn’t there. Sigh.

People who’s faces I’ve seen before come up to me and are like “You’re Bambi!” and I’m embarrassed because I’ve seen their faces before around for years but I’ve been through so much bullshit in the last two years than I can’t manage to remember this one person’s name.

One thing about being out of the industry a couple months now is that the dark cloud has lifted, but the need for sexual energy in my daily life has not.

As I was showcasing my work to somebody, I got approached by a guy and a girl who I didn’t know who asked if I was a lesbian.

I was dumbfounded by this.
The pointed across the way to an acquaintance of mine, who was a girl.
They said she had been staring so longingly at me for the last 20 minutes, they assumed that she was my girlfriend, and they all thought it was completely, totally adorable.

All I could do was laugh, since I’m so very far from lesbian.
“What do you think it is?” I asked.

They said that the whole black wardrobe combined with the strength of my work….most people don’t see that kind of strength in regular chicks. They see that strength in lesbians. There you have it.

Then the next surprise: Those same two people (a guy and a girl) proceeded to proposition me for a threesome. It was this girl with long straight hair and exotic blue eyes. She was gorgeous and it made me slightly uncomfortable. Her guy friend…who wanted to help her out because this girl was just out of a five year relationship (with a guy.)

I declined the threesome, but I was flattered nonetheless.
The guy friend of the threesome trio and I got into conversation.
The kind of intense conversation where neither of us could be stopped.

This guy was doling out the compliments and I have to say, it filled the void of leaving work just a little.

I explained a little bit about how I am also a writer, people think I’m a whore for a living but really I’m studying the culture of sex and how people perceive it and I have interviewed lots of prostitutes, blahblahblah.

I make no mention of whether or not I am actually a whore. Or was.
He was interested.

Hovering around the bar area was this delightful artist named William whose work I really liked….who I could tell wanted to talk to me but was too sweet and shy to say anything. He looked my way and I enthusiastically waved as if to say, “It’s ok artist, I will not bite your head off. I’m nice.”

Two minutes later he approached me and said they were all going to run over to this late night Thai place to grab some food. So here I was in psuedo-deep conversation with this cocky bastard named Ryan, when this other side of me is saying “I should really work on meeting nicer sweeter people and start distancing myself from cocky assholes. Maybe being at a table with this William guy would be good for me.”

So instead of ditching Ryan, I say, “hey, they’re going to eat here, lets go!” and I take him with me.

That’s right, some random dude I’ve never met, loading up in my car.
He went to high school with a mutual friend of ours (the Virgin!) so I deemed that if he hung out with my Virgin friend at some point in time, it must be okay.

Sadly we get there and William has not made it to the restaurant…and neither have any of his friends. Odds are when he was giving me the cross streets in the super loud party zone, I misheard him, and so they were down the street at the restaurants other location. Whatever.

It ends up being me and Ryan, who is drinking beer only, preferring to be drunk, and I’m drinking water and eating while we chat. He tells me about how inappropriate he likes to be at times, how it offends people. Somehow we get into this conversation about penis size and the scale of race vs. dick size. I insist that white dudes have bigger penises than most Mexican men, and he exclaimed, “well, what if the walls of your vagina are really wide?” and right at this moment, this random girl walks up to the drink fountain and overhears the conversation and shoots me a “I can’t believe he just made a comment about your Vag.”

I explain that I’m not like a regular girl.
I don’t like dates.
They tend to feel empty.

He spouts off a number of imaginary scenarios trying to figure out if I’d fuck him or not.
He wants to know if I like movies.
I say I like netflix.
He says, “So say we are watching The Fighter at my house. and I try to go down on you, would you turn me down?”

He listed at least 3 or four different scenarios like this prior to that.
So by the 4th one I say,

“Look Ryan, here’s the problem. The problem is I’m in love with somebody who doesn’t love me back. I’m not really interested in dating anyone right now.”

I sort of explain the “stuff happens but we are not officially an item” type of situation.

He asks, “Well what’s so great about this guy that you’re in love with him? It sounds like an empty situation.”

I say, “Well he’s intelligent, we have great conversation….”

He says, “It’s probably his dick too right.”

“Ok you got me there but it’s really not all about that.”

I explain my typical scenario:
“Usually what happens is some guy that I’m fucking all the time ends up my boyfriend…its based on sex. Once the high from the sex wears off, I realize that the guy is boring…isn’t what I want for a long term thing, and then I end it.”

I say, “This guy is different though. We’ve spent more time NOT having sex…just talking, and I realized I’m having more fun doing that and I still find him interesting minus the sex…which is something that is a new thing for me.”

He tells me I should give up.
I should fuck other people anyway.
Have fun.

I tell him no.
I tell him sex feels empty.
Being empty feels empty.

I break it down.
“Everybody in my social circle thinks that I’m running off and having wild sexual escapades, but really, I need love. I need to love somebody and have somebody who loves me back.”

There you have it.
I guess if I don’t want people to think I’m having wild sexual escapades with people I don’t know, I shouldn’t run off with them in my car.

I drove Ryan to his house and he said, “I’ll probably text you, and you’ll avoid me, and I’ll never see you again, but either way, this night was still fun.”


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