Sometimes, I hate being a guy.
Don't get me wrong, I'm not harbouring any secret desires to be a woman or anything, but there are some parts of the male existence where I seriously feel like we got shafted.
I like being able to pee standing up. I like that if I get pissed off with my hair I can shave it all off and it doesn't matter. I'll be eternally grateful that I'm never going to know the horrors of PMS or childbirth as anything but a spectator and that I don't have to rearrange anything around monthly happenings which I can't cancel. I like that the only time I ever have to wear make up is for photo shoots because it makes your skin tone come out right on camera - I'd prefer it if I never had to touch the stuff ever, but I can live with that. I like that I'm tall enough without having to walk around in murderous shoes and that I don't have to worry about whether my jeans are going to make my hips look too fat or whatever.
I really fucking hate the part where I'm expected to walk around, be a 'man' and pretend I'm cool when I feel like my heart dropped out through my stomach.
I can't STAND it when I'm expected to walk around acting like it's any other day in my adult life and I'm just fine when actually I really want to throw some shit.
They're all fucking sitting here right now looking at me and expecting me to be the perfect host. They only even come over to my house because I'm the fucking millionaire and I'm the one with all the top of the range shit, yet they expect me to always be happy and funny and entertain them like I'm a performing animal. I get enough of that from the damn media and the fans (not damn fans though, 'cause I'm grateful). I don't need it from my friends too. Even Trace has started spouting the 'you'll be fine, you'll get over it' crap and it really bugs me because I thought if there was one person I could rely on not to bring out the clichés it was him.
Like ten minutes ago I'm in the kitchen bringing out the beers like a dutiful host and he follows me in there and without warning just launches into this big spiel about how me sulking isn't going to change anything and the guys are starting to ask what's up and why I'm being such a bitch. The way he fucking talks it's like I'm not allowed to be in a bad mood; well if you'll beg my damn pardon, after what I came home to today I think I'm damn well entitled.
Please don't misunderstand - it's not like Alex has totally ripped out my heart and stomped on it, she wouldn't do that. I'm not melodramatic enough to think that I'll never get over it or I'll never love again.
It's just fucking depressing. This house is too male, I've decided. I was so determined not to let my mother have free reign over the decorating I think my pig headed self failed to take into account the fact that it needed some softer touches and that a female influence was the best way to get them. It's all sharp angles and leather and chrome and dark wood - it's a good job I'm still a bachelor because child proofing this place would be a nightmare, if I had a kid I'd pretty much need to gut the house and totally re-furnish. But I'm sitting here and the rooms are too pale and there aren't enough rounded surfaces or splashes of colour and the walls look bare without any photographs on them.
But then I guess that's my fault for taking all of them down.
As much as I don't like how I'm feeling and that I'm mentally bitching about my entire life right now, I like it even less that I can't express that to my friends. I need some fucking comfort, but there's no way in hell I can turn and ask Nick if I can cry into his shirt. If I even start talking about Alex they start shifting in their seats and looking uncomfortable and like they're trying to be sympathetic and they don't know what to say. It's definitely times like this I miss being with the group.
When you spend that long with the same four guys and you're so hounded and preyed upon you know all you've got is each other and that your circle of trust ends with them, you get past the whole machismo thing. I know I could sit there and cry on Joey's shoulder and he wouldn't sit there being all silent and awkward and feeding me bullshit lines of sympathy like it's all magically going to get better. Joey's the biggest 'man's man' I know, but he'd still get it.
I know the people in this room right now will always have my back whatever happens, but it seriously pisses me off. If I became homeless and destitute they'd be all over it, but a hurting Justin and none of them can come up with anything better than "give it time."
***
It's amazing that I even managed to pull anything out of the mess of thoughts I was having after I walked back into the house. It was like my brain had been put in a blender; still, given a little time I think I now remember it I the most coherent way I'm ever going to. It was weird, I had a very unlike me ten minutes where I just immediately went straight up to the bedroom and started looking around, seeing what had been taken. Normally when shit like this happens I have to distance myself from the initial reaction, give myself ten minutes to work up to facing the nasty, but I just steamed straight on up those stairs.
I remember thinking how odd it looked, which was odd in itself. It wasn't even like Alex kept much of her stuff at my place. She never officially moved into the house - not because I was adverse to the idea or that we weren't serious enough, it just never seemed like the right time. I mean, I wanted her to, I didn't see the point in her paying rent when she was always at my place anyway, and it made perfect sense… but it never felt like a natural progression, for some reason. It always felt like I'd be pushing her into it. Whatever though, it all ended up with there being not much for her to remove from my house, so it was stupid to be looking at my bedroom like it was alien, all things considered. I couldn't help it.
The navy curtains and the off white walls were the same. My stereo and TV set up were the same, strategically hidden. My electric fireplace was still sitting there quietly, waiting for me to decide I wanted the warmth or the ambiance the fire gives me. My stuff looked the same in the dresser. My bathroom looked the same, everything arranged neatly on the marble counter. It's not even like Alex used to bring over lots of her cosmetics to fill my bathroom up with, and what little was there was kept out of sight. Her clothes were so mixed with mine in the drawers that you couldn't tell the difference with the naked eye, she only kept enough of her clothes here to cover herself for sporting, formal and casual occasions anyway, and apart from anything else the vast majority of her stuff left with her a few weeks ago.
Yet somehow it seemed like there were way too many empty hangers in the closet and not enough shoes - which is dumb considering how many fucking pairs of shoes I own. She always used to rib me about that.
The room doesn't smell like her any more either. I'm not pathetic enough to not wash sheets to keep her perfume lingering on the pillows and comforter, so the scent of her is long gone. Apart from anything else the ripe stench on unwashed linen would probably have masked it anyway. There's no way in hell I could sleep on dirty sheets, even if I do miss my girlfriend - ex girlfriend. I like to be clean.
Sometimes I feel stupid missing her so much. It's not like we ended badly or like the break up hadn't been on the cards for a while. It's not like she's cheated on me, or done some hugely bitchy things to break my heart. It just didn't work. It's not like I'm crying all the time or I feel like my world has ended or that I'm not looking forward to anything without her. I'm not hysterical, I just… it's weird. I can't get used to her not being around. She's not there to talk to, she's not calling me to tell me when she'll be showing up, she's not asking me what groceries we need (man, it really was like she lived here, why did that never become official again?), for the first time in two years I'm not regularly having sex…
It's just strange and unreal.
I suppose maybe it's hypocritical of me to complain about my friends not knowing how to handle me when I don't know how to handle me right now. She packed the last of her stuff today and I met her on her way out and we actually had a civil parting. I even hugged her. Any other time an ex of mine has come over the most I've done is snarl at her to pack her shit up as fast as humanly possible and leave my property. I'm not used to feeling like this - but then I guess I'm not used to a relationship just fizzling out of its own accord because things just weren't meant to be; my break ups are usually a hell of a lot more dramatic. I'm endlessly grateful that Alex and I ended on a better note, but it's just difficult because I've never done this before and I don't know how it goes.
Maybe I ought to have cancelled the guys coming over this afternoon because I really wasn't expecting Alex to come get her stuff today - I talked to her on the phone a couple of times about when she would but we never fixed a date and I almost thought it wouldn't happen because we were both so unspecific. She just threw me. Maybe I'd have felt better if she'd managed to come and go without bumping into me, I don't know. It was just hard walking back into the house knowing all her shit was gone. It's entirely possible that if uninformed I would have been oblivious to the fact it was gone until something particularly jumped out at me, like if I'd noticed her key was back hanging with the spares.
It was hardest I think seeing what she'd left in the 'us' box I put together for her to go through. She left more than I thought she would, which kind of hurt because even though we've broken up I still want part of her to carry me around in her thoughts. Maybe that's horrifically selfish, but I don't want her just forgetting about me or me becoming just 'the ex' to her. I purposely left a note with it telling her to take it and dispose of whatever she didn't want, make it her call; I guess she missed the part where this was a transparent ploy by me to maintain the mental possibility that she kept all of it. If I can't see that she didn't keep it, then I can continue hoping she did. But she left the rest of me to get rid of, which lets me know she's discarded it, and that hurts.
I don't think I'm going to be able to get rid of it actually, at least for a while. Trace insisted I be ruthless when it came to taking down stuff that reminded me of her; he told me I wasn't allowed photos on the wall. I could put them in one of the many photo albums I rarely look at, but I wasn't allowed to display them in plain view, he said. The same went for stuff she'd bought me and crap like that; he wasn't a complete Nazi about it, though. He was just very practical about what would be dumb to put away purely because she bought it and what would only be out there to aid me in my wallowing self pity.
The stuff that went in the box for Alex was either stuff that I thought she would want and should have or stuff I just couldn't bear to keep, though she only got about half the pictures I had around of her. She's a picture taking fiend anyway but I've always been a guy who likes to have pictures of his girlfriend everywhere. I guess what Trace did was good for me, much as I resent it.
I guess the break up is probably good for me in the end too, much as I resent it.
I mean, after all, I was the one who suggested time apart. I still maintain that she dumped me though - technically it was mutual but I had no intentions of ending the relationship, I just thought maybe we were spending too much time together and we needed to go away to take some space, remember who we were separately so we could remember why we were together. She just kind of jumped on the idea of freedom a little too readily and as we talked about it I had pretty much nothing to do but nod and pretend like I agreed. What was I supposed to do when my girlfriend obviously wants to break up? I have some manly pride.
That whole conversation just kind of snowballed. One minute I'm suggesting some personal time for both of us, the next the idea of breaking up is being discussed without me even being aware which of us had brought it up - I presume her because I don't remember saying it. I knew she hadn't been completely happy; I know I hadn't been either, hence why I started the whole thing. It was like we both started going through the motions and the whole thing just kind of ground to a halt, momentum wise. We were both comfortable but the relationship wasn't going anywhere; it was like somebody was starving it of oxygen and the spark was starting to die out without it.
I seriously fucking miss our sex life, but even that was starting to show cracks. It was like we both ran out of ideas, which is crazy because we were a good match, physically, and we'd always had chemistry. It wasn't like the sex ever got bad, it just got kind of… unoriginal. Alex isn't like supermodel beautiful but she never had any problems turning me on - she's just a little thick, gives you a little something to grab onto and some real curves. I used to love tracing out the contours of her body with my index finger. She's got this great dark hair, chocolate eyes and a cute button nose - even if it is a little crooked. She's pretty, not in a Hollywood glamour obvious type way, in that way where a guy would seriously have to take a second or third look if he saw her walking by, just so he could take her in properly (and as a Hollywood veteran, I can tell you that's better).
Having said that… physically speaking, you can have good sex with anybody who's got the skills. And much as I hate to say it, I think towards the end of the relationship it was like Alex could have been anybody. Not because I didn't care for her, because I really did and do, but just because our minds weren't on the same wavelength any more. I have a feeling that if you asked her, she'd say the same about me. I guess over the past year the romantic spark kind of evaporated slowly and by the end we wound up being good friends who had good sex.
That wouldn't be a bad thing, except I am not now nor have I ever been a fuck buddy kind of guy - especially not when the girl in question started out as somebody I was really crazy about. That's like being fucking downgraded; there's no way in hell I'm staying in a relationship where I've been fucking held back a grade, you know?
I miss… actually, I sometimes wonder if I miss Alex or I just miss having a girlfriend.
I miss having regular sex. I'm a guy, and I'm horny, but I don't have the luxury of going out and being a playboy. I tried that between relationships before and not only does it fail to make me feel better, it usually winds up in me becoming inadvertently involved with psycho bitches. It's a hazard of being famous, and it's made worse by the fact that I only have to be within ten feet of a woman for the press to link me to her - you can imagine how much worse it gets if I actually am playing the field. I mean… sometimes I felt like we weren't quite communicating or mixing it up enough and that it could be better, but then there's always room for improvement no matter how great things are going, it's not like I had any complaints.
It's just weird how you feel the absence. There's definitely a comfort zone in knowing that you're pretty much guaranteed to get laid unless you severely manage to fuck up. It's not just sex, though, it's everything. I miss being tactile with somebody. I miss having somebody to cuddle - I don't care how macho any guy acts, men need the affection just as much (not that I'd admit it). I miss having a little kiss before I leave in the morning and I miss having a guaranteed somebody to stay up half the night talking about random shit with or who I can just turn around and ask if they want to go out or go to a basketball game or whatever. I suppose in that respect it really wouldn't matter if it was Alex or not, so long as it was somebody… but then Alex always worked good enough, until recently.
I think that is what's making getting over this so hard for me. It's not like I haven't made progress or I'm about to go throw myself at her door begging her to take me back, but I think I'm having a harder time of this than she is. Maybe that's presumptuous or unfair of me, but it sounds like she's really doing okay from what I've heard filtering back through our various mutual friends. Don't get me wrong, I want her to be okay. I want her to be happy, she deserves that. I just wish she wasn't getting over it quite so much faster than me. I fucking know that makes me a selfish bastard but I don't care because half of this bitch mood I'm in right now is down to the serious salt in the wound feeling I get from knowing that this isn't bothering her as much as it's bothering me and she's not wondering if it was the right thing like I am.
I guess… I just can't tell right now whether the way I'm feeling is just your standard sadness because something good is over or it's my gut telling me that I need Alex.
I guess… considering that I brought it up first, that before she mentioned an actual split we were both agreeing to every word of that conversation… it probably is the right thing for us. It has to be better we stopped before any bitterness set in. Maybe Alex is just doing a better job of facing up to the truth than I am.
I guess… I'm just naturally feeling a little sore and it'll pass in time, much as I hate it when my pals tell me that.
It's just hard to believe that something which was going so well could for no discernible reason just cease to work out. I loved her, she loved me, and everybody I know said we were a great couple. Well, except for a few jealous fans, but then I've learned that fans who don't like a girlfriend of mine fall into two categories: the first genuinely don't like that particular girl, the second just don't like her because she's my girlfriend and they will dislike every girlfriend I ever have. The former is annoying but fair enough, the latter just pisses me off. But Alex even managed to cope with the fans and media crap just fine - hence why I don't get it.
She could deal with all the hassle of dating 'Justin Timberlake, superstar.' She could deal with my annoying habits and I could deal with hers. We weren't perfect and we fought occasionally but most of the time we got on really well and when we did fight we managed to deal with it fairly maturely, apart from the obligatory name calling. I suppose it's entirely possible I'm idealising things or forgetting the not so good parts of our relationship, but I still don't see where the problem arose. Our sex life was good, we had fun together, we cared about each other, any way you look it at we should have added up to a fantastic relationship that had real potential to go somewhere, so how the fuck does it just grind to a halt for no reason?
I just don't get it. How does that work?
***
I'd just parked the Escalade when she came out of the house. My stomach had started doing somersaults as soon as I'd even spotted the car; it didn't matter how far up the drive it was, I knew without seeing the plates that it was hers. It was just strange to see her that way - she looked so calm. Alex is a person who has always had a lot of energy. It's not like she's always fidgeting or she looks high on caffeine, she's just always had bounce to her step and a quick pace. But as she walked out and shut my carved oak door behind her, she had this incredible air of tranquillity around her. She looked positively serene - which kind of sucked for me. She could have at least looked a little more affected by it.
I still felt a familiar hum in my skin when I looked at her. She'd curled her hair, which I always wished she'd do more often because it was seriously sexy. She was all effortlessly chic and sophisticated in jeans and heels (heels for packing?), and in this little black number which bared her shoulders and this great expanse of skin. I have to tell you, I was this close to asking if she wanted one more for the road. Like I say, our sex life never got bad.
"Hey." It was the best I could manage once I'd got out of the car and walked over to her where she was hovering on the step.
"Hey." It wasn't too bright or perky when she said it, just kind of neutral, but I think that was easiest for us both.
"Did, uh, you just get here?"
I felt so stupid standing there. It wasn't like it was painful or I was tempted to throw myself at her feet and beg for a reconciliation but I was just nervous and the fact that she seemed so okay with it made me real itchy. It must have looked like I had fleas or something.
"No, I just finished boxing up. I left your key on the hook with the other spares." She fidgeted a lot just then, shuffled her feet around. I'm not sure whether it was because of me or she just had another appointment or something, but I prefer to think the former.
"Right. Okay, thank you."
It was only a little smile she gave me, just the barest glimpse of teeth, but there was something soft about her eyes. My insides felt like they liquidised just a little, but it wasn't bad. Come to think of it though, it wasn't exactly melting beneath her gaze either - maybe that's more ammunition for the 'break up was the right thing and I'm in denial' theory.
"So, uhh…" She seemed like she didn't quite know what to say. "I guess we're done here, unless there's anything else I need to pick up or give back or whatever."
"Can't think of anything - I'll call if I do."
I hate it when you start having those inane conversations with somebody who all of a few weeks earlier you were seriously involved with - and that doesn't just go for romantic relationships. It just doesn't do your history justice and it SUCKS ASS.
"Fuck this is awkward."
That surprised me and I unexpectedly flashed a peek of my pearly whites. It just amused me a little, how she just came out with that. "Damn fucking straight."
"I just… in the unlikely event you need anything, you can always call." It's incredible how much it made me feel better when she said that. It seemed kind of awkward and a little out of nowhere but then I know standing there wasn't exactly a picnic for her either. "I know we're ex but it's not like I hate you now."
"Well, it's, uh, not like I hate you either so you know you can do the same."
Okay, so I was a tiny bit sarcastic when I said that, but come on. Her wording wasn't the greatest in the world. I know it's difficult to know what to say and I knew what she meant, and I will always love her for that. But when I was already a little bruised, "it's not like I hate you" could have been phrased a bit better… not that I could hold it against her, hence I only made fun just a little.
"See you round Timberlake."
She smiled and it just felt like there was nothing I could do but just give her a hug. It was goodbye and I knew it was, much as my throat was burning a little at the time. It felt off, somehow, wrong to be doing that. I couldn't hold her the same - my arms went around her looser than usual, like she was contagious if the contact was too close. She didn't seem as relaxed as usual either, but then I guess that's natural. It felt weird without her pushing her face into my neck like she normally did.
And I may not be pathetic enough to leave dirty sheets on the bed because they smell of her, but I am just pathetic enough to smell her hair when I'm getting my last hug. Oh well.
***
Being a celebrity is a weird thing. Just when you think you're used to it and you know how to deal with it all, something new happens to throw you. Just when you think they're not paying attention to you, you find yourself in the middle of some new piece of hot gossip or scandal. It's like trying to find somewhere quieter and out of the way in a club and then they put the strobe lights on - in one split second it's dark and then light again, dark and then light again. Just when you think it's one way, it's another, and just when you think it's over it starts again. It distorts your vision and it makes it a hell of a lot harder to look where you're going.
That's kind of the way I feel without Alex right now - like somebody's shining a strobe light in my face and I can't see what I'm doing properly. One second I think we did the right thing and that painful as it is, I can push ahead with my life knowing that it just wasn't meant to be and without assigning any blame. Then the next I think I need Alex and we could still have worked it out - and then comes resentment because if that's true then she just wasn't prepared to fight hard enough.
Trace, God love him because nobody else will, did put it to me earlier that it was the confusion that was making me hurt rather than any attitude I might imagine Alex has or had towards our now defunct relationship. He's probably right - I can be a bit of a control freak and get a little uptight if I don't know what direction I'm going in. I guess I just feel like I'm under a shadow right now. It'll pass, one way or the other… and if I'm honest with myself I expect what I'll be seeing is Alex and I better off apart.
We'll see soon enough.
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