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Will you still love me, tomorrow?

You Don’t Have a Soulmate
and Neither Do I

by Chris Reed
[A guest post]

Put the kleenex down and stop freaking out. This isn’t about Mr. or Ms. Right versus Mr. or Ms. Right-Now. This isn’t about being in a relationship or being single, neither is it about polygamy or monogamy, nor anything so tightly defined. This is about how there is no “The One” for me or you, and about how that is okay.

I live in New York, the most populous city in North America, I’m straight, and I’m 25. That leaves less than 0.5% of the world’s population to sample when looking for my soulmate, who – if she exists – is probably in India or China, and we will most likely never meet.

Kleenex down! This is a good thing! Free from the pressure of finding a perfect mate who fulfills your every desire and never fucks it up ever, you can seek alternatives to the old models that breed resentment and result in failure.

Entering a relationship knowing that it’ll eventually end doesn’t mean I don’t get lost in my partner. It doesn’t mean that we don’t have a great time. It doesn’t mean that we don’t have great sex; that we don’t make each other better people; that it doesn’t hurt when it ends. What it means is that there is no one experience worth forfeiting all other experiences. It is an admission that as we grow and change as people, our desires grow and change and that drifting apart is as natural as coming together.

Love no longer has to be Kerouac’s “long sad tale ending in graves” but a series of informed encounters that are structured to be conducive to you and your partner(s) needs. Remember this as you spend the rest of your life with The Only One – yourself.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on July 11, 2012 at 10:02 am, filed under Chris Reed, Love, New York, Photos, Writing and tagged , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Ain’t no sunshine when

This is precisely how I feel about being in Los Angeles right now.

I’ve always felt like home was a person and not a place.
I feel so homesick. Homeless, rather, more than ever.

I want to say that I’m trapped, here, in my transience.
I want to say many more things, to explain. I don’t have the wherewithal.

Bianca wrote me this morning. The subject was simply “<3". Another reminder that everyone who cares for me lives in New York, or Berlin, or Toronto. A few days ago, her company, Small Girls PR, had sent me a pair of Tortoise & Blonde sunglasses.

They arrived precisely on a day when I had been crying steadily. I needed these glasses. Thank you.

She suggested that I elaborate on the motto inscribed in the case “ONE Today. ANOTHER Tomorrow.” I think I’m supposed to write about babes and adventures and how life goes on. How I could have one of each of the aforementioned today, and another tomorrow.

But I can’t. I haven’t decided what it is I could say that would make things better or whether they’d be worse.
I’m afraid that I may have already said enough of the wrong things, rendering irreparable.
I’ll let my new Sunset shades tell you how I feel –

black and blue.

For now, I just want to take each day as it comes. One today, another tomorrow.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on May 25, 2012 at 1:19 pm, filed under Fashion, Friends, Joey Ng, Los Angeles, Love, Photos, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Young hearts

You can basically measure how much I love you by:

1) how tall above 6 feet you stand and
2) how many photos I take of you

Sam is/has plenty of both – through virtually no contribution of her own except being born’d this way – so I must really love her.

Here she is being forced to stand tall in front of things while I take photos of her.

Here she is being forced to stand tall in front of things with me while photos are taken of her.

I love you a lot, Spock.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on May 18, 2012 at 2:21 pm, filed under Babes, Friends, Joey Ng, Los Angeles, Love, Photos and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Things I’ve learned from the death of a loved one

I’ve had this post in my drafts folder for about a month. I guess it’s never going to feel right, so I’ll post it now.
———-

Let’s be honest here. And by ‘let’s’, I can only mean me. I am sad. It comes and goes, and it comes less often than it did but when it does, it’s no less heartbreaking.

I want to talk about our last conversation.
I want to talk about every single memory.
But not quite, in its entirety. At least not yet.

I took a shower this morning, I cried in the shower. I started making a list of things I felt I had learned from feeling pretty fucked up in the past few weeks.

P.S. It’s for me, mostly.

1. Fall in love. A lot.

I don’t have a lot of time. With people. In one place.
It comes with the territory of not having had a home address in years. So people often wonder how much you can possibly love a person in mere months or weeks or days.

Have you ever had a moment?
When your world started to shift
revolve around a person.

I probably fell in love with Richard by the third night I had spent any time with him. We were on his red velvet couch. He lay a mass of ginger curls on my chest. Just for a second, maybe seventeen of them. And I knew I’d always have an immensely, intensely, emotional reaction to whatever it was that he would ever do did. We didn’t have a lot of time. I couldn’t have loved him any later or less. I would not have forsaken it for anything.

So fall in love. Whole-heartedly and as often as you’d like. Even just for the 20 minutes it takes to lie on the driveway in front of a McDonald’s to make out with someone you’ve just met. I have. And it was great.

2. Write it down. Especially if it’s important, even when it’s difficult.

A few weeks before Richard died, I found out he had written me a letter. He said it was probably best that it was at the bottom of his car getting wetter by the day. I don’t have that letter. I wish I did, and if there is any way I could read what he had wanted to say to me regardless of its contents and sentiments, I would.

I read his journals when we last played house. I tell people this was an asshole thing I did but really it’s the kind of thing I would do unapologetically. If I can learn something –anything– more about a person I care about, I will.

Some of it was unsettling, but mostly amusing. It was all important. It was important for me to know his thoughts – whether mundane, dark, or genius alike. It’s important to me that I knew him.

I also wrote a lot about him. I adored him at times and hated him at others. The way we related, he called it ‘tumultuous’. And in these whiskey encouraged extremes, I wrote. I’ve read them over and over. To remember.

Write it all down – one day you may want to remember it, too.

3. Know what you want. Deliver others what they want.

In my last hour with Richard, I had ordered a cup of tomato soup, a side of potato salad, and a side of arugula salad with shaved parmesan. Then the server asked if I wanted to get a combo of 3 sides. The list of permitted options in his proposed combo contained none of the things I had originally ordered so I said “No, thank you” with a look. A look that said “No, thank you. You idiot.”

Dick laughed. “This guy obviously doesn’t know you. You of all people know exactly what you want.”

He was right. I’m not very compromising. I know what I want, and I fight to get it. Sometimes that didn’t help our cause, but it was what I wanted. Y’see Richard dumped me years ago because I had to travel with my job and he wanted a stable, local girlfriend. I’m very grateful and happy with where I am even if it meant letting go of potentially wonderful relationships because that’s what felt right at the time.

I love my job, the city, and the people I surround myself with. He fell in love the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and they made art and love and a home while it lasted.

I think we both found what we needed, afterall.

4. Keep the ones you love in your life.

It was months before we spoke again. Richard had ended things with me over BBM and I had the drunkest night of my life. I deleted him out of my phone, and blocked him on facebook. Four months had passed. He called. Ever the sweetheart, of course he’d be the first to reach out.

We became friends again and infrequently lovers. We kept each other updated, but mostly each other in check. I was dismissive a lot of the time. I’m sorry, Richard. I hope you know I care.

I found out that he had died through a friend of a friend’s facebook status.

It sounds so fucking stupid but I hated myself for blocking him on facebook. Over the years, he thought it was funny and we made a pact not to pry in each other’s social media profiles. But it seemed so overwhelmingly important to be able to see photos of him. All the hilariously ridiculous updates that I had missed. Every heartfelt message left from our grieving friends.

But then I remembered that’s what he had wanted. For us to share what we had to share between us when we could – in person, by phone, or text. A personal connection. At least I had that. All of our memories. And I can’t imagine how much worse I would feel if he’d never been a part of my life again.

It may be hard at times, nor the best idea at others but eventually, reach out and keep the ones you love in your life. Don’t be cruel. You don’t want to regret losing someone for good.

Richard, you said you had a dream that I’d told you I wished I’d never have met you. That couldn’t be further from the truth. Every day I wish you were still here. At bus stops, in elevators, every street corner of downtown LA, I think of you. I miss you. You are loved so dearly.

Later, Ginger.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on March 4, 2012 at 9:26 pm, filed under Friends, Los Angeles, Love, Writing and tagged , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Cheesy Valentine’s Stuff

My babe is the fucking best.

I know, let’s all barf rainbows and puppies.

xxx

This entry was written by Joey, posted on February 15, 2012 at 1:53 pm, filed under Babes, Los Angeles, Love, New York, Photos and tagged , , , , , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

FOR
RICHARD GIMBEL

I will love you always.
Downtown LA has lost its sweetheart.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I miss you so devastatingly.
I love you, Richard.

Be better, wee ginger.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on January 16, 2012 at 2:07 am, filed under Friends, Los Angeles, Love and tagged , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Darling you
Part 2

“I was afraid. I reached out and touched her long hair. The hair was magic. I pulled my hand away. “Is all that hair really yours?” I asked. I knew it was. “Yes,” she said, “it is.” I put my hand under her chin and very awkwardly I tried to turn her head toward mine. I was not confident in these situations. I kissed her lightly.”

Women, Charles Bukowski

I think I’ve settled on a name for this series. I’m going to call it

Darling you

And that’s all I have to say about this photo.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on November 22, 2011 at 5:11 am, filed under Babes, Darling you, Friends, Los Angeles, Love, Photos and tagged , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

“I loved you like a man loves a woman he never touches,
only writes to,
keeps little photographs of.”

– Charles Bukowski

I have all these little photos
of men
darling men
beautiful men.
Men I love for more reasons than not.
I wanted to start a series, but I just can’t decide what to call it.
Help?

Anyway, this is Sean.
And I love him.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on October 19, 2011 at 2:23 am, filed under Babes, Darling you, Friends, Los Angeles, Love, Photos and tagged , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

He said it was the one honest thing he read all day.

Quite frankly, I haven’t been quite honest with you, blog. I don’t even know what I’m trying to protect nor whether I even care anymore.

I suppose I was far too reckless with my honesty, before.
Complete disregard for other people’s, well, emotions and ongoing narratives.

And now I fear that I’m too afraid. A dichotomy of embarrassment and under-potentialising. I feel the need to ‘mature’. To protect the private lives of private people, to hush and class up my act. If this be the public face, the result of search Googled, then what can I bear to let you see and assume and project and personify?

And to what extent do I hide behind Born-again tact, scoffing at girls blogging about snogging my ex, twitpicing their dates and raising my heart rate. How much do I silence my rage, and low lows, or newfound excitement through an ever present melancholy at the cost of exercising my writing. I used to tell you everything.

I still have much to say.

This entry was written by Joey, posted on December 24, 2010 at 4:17 am, filed under Love, Self-diagnoses, Writing. Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

Bye Bye Big Birdie

When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child
but when I became a man, I put away childish things.

For now we see through a glass, darkly
but then face to face…

1 Corinthians 13

This entry was written by Joey, posted on December 18, 2010 at 2:04 am, filed under Love, New York, Self-diagnoses and tagged , , , . Leave a comment or view the discussion at the permalink.

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