Or, knowing us, good afternoon.
I don’t know why I’m writing this. It’s like you said: I’m just not that good at going to bed earlier, like we’ve been saying. Of course, I could say the same for you. Sometimes we do that to each other—we reinforce each other’s negative habits. I think I’ve been noticing that lately, like how when I get caught up in the computer and I’ll be gone away in my own world for a good long hour and I’ll snap outta it and turn around to check up on you, but you’re off in your own world too. We’re both computer nerds, so here we are at our computers. Mostly I think we help each other, but it’s easy to get jaded about what our existing limitations are. I don’t think we push each other enough because we know each other’s comfort zones so well, and comfort sure is nice.
It’s like… I hate it when you say things about when I’m getting a job (not that you’ve really done that, hardly at all). And then I find myself thinking “doesn’t she care? doesn’t she worry I’ll never make something of myself and that I’ll just get another half-bad job that I’ll be ‘ok’ with?” Then I remember just the other night when my girlfriend asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up, and how she sentimentally gave me $7 toward the bus-movie-night-ticket that I bought her :-). I do remember those things, and then I realize that it’s all up to me anyways, like it always has been. I just forget cause often we act as a single entity.
I never liked seeing some relationships, like those of a few girls I knew in high school, that were just based on comfort. The logic goes: well, it’s nice having someone around to talk to, and breaking up can be messy and feels sad—I’ll just stay with this person until I absolutely CAN’T anymore. And that’s not how I feel with you. I feel like you do push me to complete my goals, and I feel like I might attain a lot of my life’s ambitions with you there with me. Sometimes… sometimes feel like our philosophies are too different. I doubt you, or I doubt how I’d be able to fit in with your family for the next 40 years or so, or even doubt how feasible traveling around the world for two would be. I wanna do that, too.
Once again, I dunno why I am writing this. I was sort of feeling sappy and sort of feeling sorry—I felt like I kept you up longer than you wanted. I feel like sometimes I could be a better boyfriend to you. I could get your website done, and be done with it. I get lazy though, and I don’t give 100%. I become a slave to my moods, I ride long sequences of exploratory online whims and pleasure-surf for hours. Sometimes I disparagingly think “this is who I am, this is how I’ve been for years. I’m an addict. I’m addicted to the internet.” Then a sublimely piteous fantasy enters my head, 10 to 20 chairs circled round, a ring of nerdy, anxious-looking men huddled about shamefully, free coffee and donuts in the corner.
“Hey, gang. Let’s get started. Welcome to our group. Can I ask, why are you here tonight?”
“Hi, my name’s Orin. Orin Optiglot on Flickr. Website homepie.org. I’m a, uh, an internet addict. I spend long hours working on my ‘digital identity,’ my blog, my social networking pages, finding more of whatever else is new. I read a lot of blogs cause I want to have things to say to my friends. Mostly I talk to them online, too, of course. Once, I got fired for using a keyboard, a keyboard to write even more on my computer. And then I stay up late writing emails to my girlfriend, who happens to in fact live with me.”
“Yeah, I think we’ve all been there, Warren. Right gang?”
This is pure silliness, of course. I’m not an addict, I just don’t put forth enough mental effort to realizing the time, analyzing my own patterns, asking what I actually really want to be doing right now. Man, I know that I could do so much in this world and I feel like I’m wasting all my chances while I’m learning more ABOUT the world. I feel like you and I could be so much more… cool. Why aren’t we more amazing? Why don’t we have more friends and lovers? It seems sometimes like our problems are so petty and small (cleaning our room!?) and the reason we get tripped up by them is that we have nothing more to blame them on than our own shortcomings, and that’s painful.
I want more from life, and the only way to get that is to take it. But that means I wouldn’t have the fantasy anymore, and the fantasy is so nice… are people who are polyamorous happier? Not that I’ve seen. They just have more sex. So why even bother? It’s another recurring pipe dream that I could get over, like being a musician. And that would be that, it’s over, no more silly fantasies, no more getting hopes up to be let down, no more grasping for wants. But I want it! And so I have to take it, and for it to work, you do too, and that means learning to work together, but that’s so HARD, and the dynamic we have now is so FAMILIAR and easy! But if we want something, I shouldn’t rely on you, I need to push, and once I start pushing you might push me, and we’d get there together. That’d be nice.
I mean, I LOVE you SOOO MUCH, sometimes it’s just unnerving. If there’s anything that makes me like my parents, it’s having the relationship that I have. It’s stable, it’s loving and affectionate, but it’s also separate jobs and shared living space, with domestic responsibilities and common (almost suburban) dreams.
So, again, I don’t know why I stated writing. I guess I just wanted to reflect, and you happened to be asleep—with plenty of reason, to be fair. I didn’t get too sappy, but I’m happier anyways. It’s really good to have you. You know we can be more awesome, though. You know we can. I love em a lot. I’ll be there with you. You, Girls.