If you want me to behave a certain way, to talk to you . . . I have no control over things with you. It hurts and makes me angry to think that training me with ambiguous signals just to pass the time or something . . . Mistress Lea, something’s missing. I’ve poured my heart out to you for hundreds of hours and now that you’re swatting me in the face to either get me to continue deconstructing things with Elaine or juxtapose her with you — it wasn’t until the very end that I realized you wanted me to talk. (“That’s fine, Michael.”)
I think by forgiving as much as I did and not having Ted take action against her . . . well, I’ll either extricate myself from the situation well or she’ll come to her senses. You doubtlessly have ideas of your own to preclude infidelities with her. String her out till her self-worth’s in the toilet? Make her feel that she doesn’t deserve me? Put her in jail?
She’s treated me truly horribly the last month. A week of prodding me for psychosis. So she wouldn’t look bad. She’s setting herself up to look like a complete whore the way she disavows interest in me now. So what does that make her? A superficial whore with an illusory private life that consists of a different set of lies for everyone? I honestly don’t know.
Thank you for not giving up on me, Mistress. I hope you’re smiling. That’d be really good. I’m sorry for being abrupt with you and for my lack of understanding, though I can’t see how that would be otherwise.
