Sometimes I wonder how my photos get chosen to accompany some of the things that get written out there. A good example: One of my self portraits was used in the following piece:
Living In Sin: Loud Love
I must look like I'm miserable, like I'm trying to sleep but can't because I'm distracted by the sound of the porno that's being filmed within earshot.
Coincidentally, my former roommate Jen (note the name of the person in the Q & A) apparently used to hear me doing the nasty as well, though I was conscious about not being noisy and asked her on several occasions if I had disturbed her. She adamantly told me "no" every time. I was trying to be a conscientious and thoughtful friend and roommate.
After nearly a year of sweet lovin' ended, she told me one night that she had a confession to make. She had bitched to a friend or two about how I was always having sex and she was tired of hearing it, but she also admitted that it was mainly because she was jealous that she wasn't getting laid.
At first I was embarrassed and felt bad, but then I told her that I wasn't going to apologize. As many times as I had asked her, it was her own fault if she couldn't tell me the truth. I gave her the opportunity more than once to tell me if my bedroom activities were disruptive or if she could even hear us at all.
Then it occured to me: this whole time I had thought I was having private, intimate moments with my lover. As it turns out, they weren't so private after all, and that kinda pissed me off.
Bygones. But people, if I can be honest with you or even broach a subject that could embarrass me, why can't you be honest with me? Is that too much to ask? I mean, really, is it? I just don't get why honesty and communication is so fucking hard.
~ the lady love
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