I gave him a porn star name after his imagined Hollywood doppelgänger, Johnny Depp. He deserves it too because his only prowesses were in bed and he is only skin deep. I don’t know where to start with JD. I ignored him on Okcupid and he surperliked me on Tinder. He didn’t give up.
I am not proud of having been with Deep. I remember an evening at Balthazar, his kitchen basically, where I felt ashamed and like everybody around us was staring at us. I don’t look like a model, I don’t look like an escort. He looks like an old damaged rock star. He is convinced that he looks like a celeb and makes every effort to pretend to be one.
I think boredom is the biggest issue I have. I’m trying to justify JD, somebody I would have never met in my everyday life and somebody I could never fall in love with. But I stayed and somehow got attached to him. He was filling my life with his emptiness.
He’s a modern Narcissus, obsessed with his image. I think the reason why he doesn’t own a bathtub in his Soho loft is because he would fall in love with his own reflection and drown.
I don’t think anyone has sent me so many selfies, shirtless but the best part… live photos. because JD might look like a teenager but he was born in 1966 and he hasn’t noticed that Apple has tricked him into making mini videos whenever he snaps a pic, most often in the restrooms of a bar or Equinox because he coooool.
JD is dressed like a teenager with holes everywhere. Eve-ry-where. In his childhood, in his life, in his brain and in his bed. He scratches and sniffs like a hobo on the subway. In this country, rich people often have the same issues with substance abuse as the poor but the former’s are legally prescribed by MDs. JD is agitated by tics and stutters a lot. One evening when I went to the bathroom, I checked the sink edges for powder… and there, between the tooth brush and the tooth paste, there was a lonely forgotten pill with three letters on it that I googled, afraid of what I would find.
It’s difficult to know what’s real on JD. His long ashy blondish hair, his nose that he got fixed after he smashed his face on the ground because of his brain tumor, his belly button that seems tucked… I’ve seen pictures of him when he was still married, when his face wasn’t emaciated and he had a little daddy belly, when he was a father and a husband, with the body weight of boredom, of the man who has given up on life but fears change.