What happened that July, Installment 1

I never had much interest in details, I preferred to paint in broad strokes. This went for my art as well as for my life. Whenever I moved into a new place, I would set my things up a certain way, and that’s how they would stay. Clothes in black garbage bags would sit in the kitchen for months. Stacks of boxes with books and notebooks in the living room. I got used to things being a certain way, whether it was a good way or not. I just arranged myself into a place. In the mornings, it was coffee that got me out of bed. At night, I returned to my dwelling, and watched movies or read escapist fiction and ate chocolate, cookies, or icecream. I liked icecream, because it took a while to eat, having to melt in your mouth. I got so used to being by myself I stopped being available for relationships. Intimacy meant letting someone get close to you that you basically didn’t like, and then having a hard time getting rid of them because you liked having sex. When I was a child, I couldn’t wait to grow up and become an adult. I was looking forward to being autonomous, buying exactly the brand of washing powder the commercials assured me was the only one that worked. I could never understand my mother, buying a different one. And when I became old enough to set out on my own, it was not at all what I had expected.
So when I met Jim, I had basically given up on the whole human relationship thing. I saw enough people at work, and didn’t have to surround myself with them in my free time. To my surprise, he was like a force that could not be stopped. He came into the store one day, and asked for a pair of scissors to cut off the pricetag on the shirt he was buying. I handed them to him, and he took one look at me and said, “Are you supposed to be wearing that?”

What happened that July, Installment 1

muzed

Hamburg, Germany

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