CHAPTER ONE

KEY TO THE PUZZLE

Doris was happy. She made me cum. As she lay next to me on the bed, looking at me in post-cum “le petite morte” aftermath, she fell in love. She wanted me as her lover, but wouldn't come out with it. She just kept on saying how amazing I was. I enjoyed it, too, but as I turned to look at her wide, starry eyes and face, I just couldn't get myself to be attracted to her at all.

Gus was right. I wasn't a gigolo. I just couldn't do it, this romanticizing part. Doris, of course, kept going on and on in her romantic mood, kept being in awe. It was too much. I began to feel suffocated by her. I got up and went to the bathroom, apologizing for leaving the bed. I came back 15, 20 minutes later, after having taken a dump. I was hoping her romanticism mellowed, but it didn't. Well, if I was to be a gigolo I had to play the part. I spent the night with her, then left in the morning.

The next couple days I had to figure out what I was going to do with Doris. I didn't want to lead her on but I also didn't want to cut myself completely off. Besides the fact I was hoping she'd help me with my career, I actually cared about her, too. She was a kind soul, treated me well, and I liked her as a friend. We had good conversations on literature, film, art, society, politics, and philosophy. There were few people in Los Angeles like her. My dad Jean was the only other one in my life. Still, unlike Jean, there was an aspect of her connecting with me which was slightly phony. This was because of her lust/obsession for me and simply because that was her nature.

So, what to do? I kept pondering. I decided to continue being friendly like before and even have sex with her again, maybe. No, that wouldn't be good. It would only lead her on. What I definitely didn't want is either confront her directly about my lack of feelings, nor pretend to be as enamored as she was. Unfortunately, I had to be wily, slick, slippery, not something I was particularly good at. We continued hanging out, seeing movies, having dinner or coffee, but not as frequently as before.

She e-mailed me the letter of recommendation to the German film fest about “Loveincrazy,” wanting me to know for sure she wasn't full of shit. I appreciated that.

A week later, I got the rejection notice from the German film fest.

It was a nail in my heart. Not only was it the nail after hundreds of other nails, but after all the work I put into this particular application, staying up all night working on it to send off in time to meet their deadline, after all the support Doris gave the film ... it was hard ... the final heartbreak for “Loveincrazy” ...

I became bitter, but continued working on the script for my second feature and thinking of how to be more successful this time. I even considered pushing “Loveincrazy” a bit more, perhaps do another screening. No, it was done, it was dead ... I had to move on, which was hard to do ... After the disappointments of “Loveincrazy,” getting fired at C.W.F.P.S.J for falling in love with Charlotte, the disintegration of my friendships with Bernardo, Gus, Kristianna, Benny, and with the breakdown in my love affairs ... it all added up ... bruise after bruise ...

It became harder for me to hide my feelings around Doris. I just wasn't attracted to her, not only physically, but personally. She had a certain insecure uptightness about her, as if she was wound up. She reminded me again of Cassandra and even my mother at times. Doris wasn't comfortable to be her own self ... she was glued to me, stuck to me in this strange need, almost a violence in it ... sometimes when I looked at her, it gave me a shiver ...

I felt bad, as well, that I had used her. And I did. I intentionally seduced her so she could help my film. I tried to excuse myself by saying I never led her on romantically, that what I put forth was a physical and intellectual connection, not a romantic one. But I knew what I was doing, and I could see her being enamored. I knew what I was playing. Fortunately for me, I was smart enough never to commit myself verbally, never expressed any false feelings of love for her, never put into words things I didn't feel. She couldn't hold me to a love I never expressed.