I’VE GROWN UP in front of a television and I’ve received a ton of messages like I need to buy a Mercedes, go to the gym and fall in love.  My therapist and I have arrived at a moment where I’m understanding that the television has mediated my way of life so much so that I think I need to be in a relationship with someone to be happy.  I’ve never been in a relationship.  Could love with someone else be overrated?  Can I be just fine being in a relationship with myself?  I do all the laundry, I do all the cooking and cleaning, I buy me gifts, I snuggle and pleasure myself…  Who needs someone else??

As a rising star in the art world, I’m glad to join the lineage of self-portrait artists before me and proudly assert my claim that the most dramatic and ridiculous relationship I will ever have is with myself. So until I can marry myself like Sue did on Glee and live happily ever after, I’ve got a raison d’être: to perform and document this crazy thing called <3.

I’m kind of a total mess when it comes to crushes. After I first locked eyes on myself, there was no turning back. I got my name, my digits, and attacked with full force – Googling and Facebook stalking commenced. Experts in the game of love say that putting your crush on a pedestal is the worst possible move ever. Yeah, I play a totally different game.

Wooing myself on dates wasn’t working so I did what any traditional man would do: divide and conquer.

I heard that in isolated hostage situations, a strange and affectionate bond could develop between the two parties. I also watch a lot of television where this cliché narrative is always performed by really hot actors that make the captivity a metaphor for foreplay. #protip

Following a year of captivity, I mean dating, we did the typical stuff – sexting, vid cam, and other random digital ways to archive our horniness. Damn you, Internet!

This one day after a huge fight, me and me sat down and really tried to figure out what the fuck our relationship was about. We’d been together for two years and it was seriously time to discuss our past, our present, and our future.

Two-and-a-half years ago when we first met, I would have never guessed that it would have lasted this long. I’m a sucker for daydreaming, but omg, moving-in together in a huge studio in Bushwick? What??

Our singular life together felt like a ridiculous reality show with terrible production values. I’m a sucker for the throwbacks of early reality programming where nothing is expected, but sigh, for some reason, our relationship became so typical: the sex, the fights, the dinners in front of the TV, the grooming texts during the day…

A few months later at a fancy dinner party, my skeleton fell out of the closet when I told me about my membership in a very secret organization. I was speechless. We didn’t talk for days. What else was I hiding? I needed some time alone. I packed a suitcase and stayed with my friend for a week or so, which turned into a month, which turned into me moving to San Francisco.

I was alone. I was angry. I was sad. I was humiliated.

A year later, after an awkward reunion, a laziness to move on, and an addiction to drama, we settled back into our reality-based programming. I moved to San Francisco to be with me. That’s where we stand now.

I’m alright, I guess. I’m happy for the most part, but I’m still confused about everything. We go out and have fun with friends, we get wasted and party it up, and life is grand. I’m a confident champ when I’m workin’ on my art or after a great meal, but when the sun goes down, I turn into a messy ball of mush. Maybe I just can’t believe that this is real. For once, I’m the guy in a great relationship no matter how fucked up it is.

You can learn more about each of these works at Jeffrey’s online portfolio.