Wearing Das Gift for Ossimori

I’m boxed inside my office near the Statuto in Florence. The room, well actually the apartment, smells like Ferret piss. My nine week old puppy is sleeping on my feet exhausted from his long morning of trying to cover up Ferret piss with puppy piss. I feel saturated and tainted though he has only peed on me once (my foot during sex). There is a cloud of uncertainty surrounding me, new area (just moved out of the center), new room-mates, a puppy, and a boyfriend who now shares my room. Too fast. Too slow. The pace is never right.

If I were to rate my fears, commitment would come directly after death, which comes directly after fear of heights, and tokophobia- the fear of child birth. I’m actually surprised more woman are not tokophobic, given the enormous stress, and stretching put on our bodies, coupled with the sudden burst of fear that must come when the head arrives and you think, “this thing is going to outlive me”. My poodle will live for fifteen years and that gives me heart palpitations. Hello, fear of commitment, there you are again! My smaller fears involve fear of failure, and fear of losing myself. In my new situation I am facing all of my fears (except for death and tokophobia, if he gets me pregnant I will A-B-O-R-T-in case he reads this).

Facing my fears is causing an array of strange things to happen to my body. My vagina ever so suddenly dislikes sex. I’m a huge pervert and I find it an unacceptable way to deal with stress. I’m also getting a strange rash on my chest which Jessica, my friend and room-mate has decided is the “water in Italy” but I have decided is, “i’m losing my freedom” spots which I think are surfacing to either A) ward off my relationship, or B) disguise me so I can disappear. I’m also sleeping all the time, but I think that might be the depression from being so far from my close friends at home. My friends who have a dark, witty, sense about them, and who are royal cunts. The girls here seem to be all victims of whatever man is involved in their lives. My boyfriend says “Men are the most stupid creatures on earth, and their easy domination of women proves how stupid women are”. I shoot him a, “go jump off the balcony” look and he says, “no not you, if women were like you we would be slaves, and women would be ruling the world” which translates into, “please don’t make me sleep on the floor, or remove sex from my life”.

I like my boyfriend, I just don’t like having a boyfriend. I’m one of those weird creatures who prefers to be single. It’s the selfishness really. ME, ME, ME. Though, he’s been raised in the odd matriarch of Italy, so he’s tolerable, as long as I’m not too much of a cunt. Yesterday while laying in bed I kicked him and demanded he make me coffee, instead he dragged me to the shower across the apartment and hosed me down with cold water. I like him slightly more after this because Exchange Theory states he tipped the power back in his direction, momentarily. We respect, and value, whoever holds the power, whoever is difficult because difficult things are of value in our culture. Total shit really, but it proves true often in relationships. Ladies, being too accommodating is boring, and will get you thrown onto the street. Remember that.

Getting and keeping men has never been difficult for me, the difficult part is wanting it and making myself okay with sharing, caring, and all of that strange shit. I’m terrified of what is happening in my life right now. I’m nearly 30, and all I want to do is design, and write. Instead, I’m becoming all “domestic” with this damn puppy, and my idiot boyfriend. Lucky for me I learned some techniques yesterday in the studio, “to show your dog who is boss, you just have to pee on it once”, said a friend of mine who is a bag designer here in Italy. I stared at him waiting for the punch-line. “You’re serious?” I asked. He nodded that he was. At the end of the day it really just comes down to urine? I do feel peed on, I feel marked, and owned, and peed on.

Maybe it’s all new, and it’s only the adjustment period. Maybe I need a baking soda rub to wash away the golden shower. Maybe I need to get this line of designs out, and finish my book. Maybe then, I can breathe without inhaling ammonia.


2 thoughts on “Fears.

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