Margo Freaks Herself Out II

   Sorry about that…where was I…? 

    Oh yes…I’d just finished lying to the Mathematician about the date of the start of the Spring semester at the (fake) school at which I was hired. 

    I lied to him, and I saw his face change…but he didn’t say anything.  I tried to switch the conversation to a different topic, which he followed. 

    But in my mind, I kept seeing his face change when I lied.  

   I thought to myself: he looked up the fake lie school online to read about it, and he knows that the semester start date that I gave him is WRONG.  You’ve been caught!  Caught!  CAUGHT! 

      I tortured myself all weekend. Friday night.  Saturday.  Sunday.

      You lied and he knows that you lied and the relationship has not even really started yet and now he knows you’re a no-good liar! I thought.   

        He sent me text messages, which I interpreted as cold and unfriendly, such as: Hi.  Sorry, was busy tonight.  I’ll be in touch tomorrow after my game. 
      
      In my mind, I was asking: WHAT, no joke?  No ‘miss you?’ OMG I am IN TROUBLE!  I fucked it up already! 

      I was so upset that I spent last Sunday night scouring the grout in between the tiles in the bathroom with bleach and a hard bristle brush.  I scoured and scoured till my elbow and shoulder were sore. All the grout had to be the same color.  People called me and I didn’t answer the phone.  I was afraid and angry at myself.  I didn’t even answer the phone when the Surgeon called, and I almost always take his calls, because he gets pissed when I don’t. 

     I was supposed to see the Mathematician Monday night, and when I woke up Monday morning, I felt like I was going to a funeral. 

     I’d decided that the best, most honorable thing I could do was cop to the lie I’d told, explain why I’d lied, and apologize.  Nothing else to do as far as damage-control was concerned.  I was exposed.  

     I was worried and depressed all day.  

     I came to his place early and sat in a chair, waiting for him to arrive.  I was wearing nice clothes and earrings and my hair was pulled back.  I felt like I was waiting for my parole officer.  

      He arrived, saw me, and came over.  He gave me a quick peck on the lips.

     Was that kiss cold? I thought.  Was that kiss markedly different from earlier kisses?  

      It seemed to me that it was. 

      We went to his room.  On the way there, his tone seemed superficial and unnaturally cheerful.  I looked at my feet. 

    When we got there, he sat on the bed and I sat in a chair by the bed.  

     Time to get it over with, I thought. 

     “So,” I said.  “Do you want to talk about it now, or do you want to talk about it after dinner?  I’d just as soon talk about it now.”

       He cocked his head.  “Talk about what?” 

       “Talk about what’s been going on between us the last few days.”

       “Uh…what’s that?”

        I leaned back in my chair.  “You can be honest with me.  I detect a change in you.”

        He froze and I saw him doing decision-making calculus in his brain.  “What change?”

       I saw that he was being crafty.  He wanted to see what I would admit to!  Well, I’d just admit the truth.

       “You’re upset with me,” I said.

       “No I’m not.”

       I narrowed my eyes at him.

      “Come here,” he said, and opened his arms.  

     I went over to him and he hugged me and we hugged and lay on the bed for a minute.  

      “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” I asked.

      “Talk about what?” 

      “You’re upset with me because you caught me in a lie,” I said.

       His face went blank.  

       Then: “What lie?”

      “You’re upset with me because I lied to you about what school I was teaching at!  I said it was (fake school) when it was (real school)!” 

       “Oh.”

       “I lied because I wasn’t thinking and I’ve felt terribly about it ever since and it was a stupid lie and I want you to know that I trust you and I’m very very sorry that I lied and you didn’t deserve that!” I blurted.

       He took it in.  Then: “I really had no idea that you lied.” 

      Yes, gentle reader, I psyched myself out. I guilt-tripped myself.  He had no idea what I was lying!  For real!  I thought that he was being cold and distant when he wasn’t!  I made it all up in my mind!  

      You have no idea how much I was torturing myself!  No idea!  

      For what it’s worth, it seemed to make him modestly happy that I was so vexed.  I mean, I guess there are worse things than knowing that someone you might care about feels so guilty about lying to you that they fess up in short order.  

        So everything was okay between us.

       I told my analyst this story and it cracked her up.

        “I psyched myself out!” I wailed.

         She said that it was some sort of transference.  Identity transference, or something like that…I need to ask her next time. 

         Talk about guilty conscience! 

               *                           *                                *                     * 

         The Mathematician brought over his nice HUGE parrot so that I could meet the Parrot and help groom him.  

       My heart melted.  Mathematician’s Parrot was so lovable.  I petted him all over–on his wings, on his beautiful face, under the crest on his head.  The feathers were so soft.  Even silkier than my Parrot.

     We bundled Mathematician’s Parrot up in a towel and Mathematician held him, and I took out his little Jurassic Park dinosaur foot and clipped his nails and filed the sharp points off with an emery board.  

      He didn’t scream or resist very much.  The Mathematician said that he was amazed.  Usually, his bird freaks out whenever anyone touches his feet.  

      I seduced him because I was tender and gentle.  Animals know when you mean well by them.  They want to trust you.  

      I made love with the Mathematician and then we went to eat. Then he took his Parrot home.

      I think I’m falling in love with this one.  Look at all the emotions he provokes within me.  These flashes of fear and insecurity, which I never experience with men.  

      But God, I’m in trouble with the Surgeon. 


2 thoughts on “Margo Freaks Herself Out II”

  1. Thé moment you think it might be serious with the mathematician, you have to dump the surgeon. The very moment. Otherwise, the relationship is doomed. This happened a few times in the past. The experiment ran its course. If you do not, in a few months, the mathematician will be out of your life. The surgeon will still be there. I used to like the later. After what he did to you, I think he is a cinder block for your progress.

    Take care.

  2. Boy o boy…I am positive you are right.

    No self-respecting man is going to put up with some shady bullshit like having the Surgeon around. It’s hard enough that he has to come to terms with the fact that he met me…how he met me.

    The Surgeon is going to flip, though, and I’m anxious about it. He’s sneaky and he doesn’t have very good boundaries. The last time I left him, he gave me grief for months.

    Ugh you are right

    Thanks for reading. Please come back and comment any time.

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