Chasing Demons

The Roller Coaster

2007-06-26T20:31:00.001-07:00

An exchange of fantasies has turned into a further catastrophe. She tells me she fucked him. He, the one who is such an unbelievable shitbag. Arrogant, can't-do-his-job-if-someone-did-it-for-him, shitbag. He can't keep up with her intellectually, but he's arrogant enough and someone not paying attention might believe he could. Two mutual friends told me once they went out with him (with others) socially, before he started seeing her, and were appalled at his arrogance an lack of knowledge, in spite of telling everyone there how much he did know. People were embarrassed for him. People are always embarrassed by him, but he doesn't know it, and apparently she doesn't either, or doesn't care. Astoundingly, this doesn't matter to her. She says he makes her ache. What clearer message do I need, because I clearly don't do that to her. Everything I've gone through with this, every awakening, every image, has been trashed. I'm monumentally stupid. I have had dreams, bad ones, about him and her, while she was still seeing him. Those dreams made me want to get as far away from her as possible, because there was a train headed right for her, and you can't make someone see the train in their tracks. They have to be hit, and all you can do is comfort them when they're recovering. The same could be said about my friends with me.
And yet...
I still want the door open, but I want it with conditions. I want her to follow through and actually give a shit about herself and find out why she's still doing this, like she said at one time she was going to.
But really, what it comes down to, is I want her to want me. "Let us know how that works out for you, eh."

Patterns

2007-06-24T06:30:00.000-07:00

Killing off the sexual side of me has been awful. It's so emotional, it's stupid. I can't look at anything sexual, because I don't want to be turned on. She sent me something yesterday that made me so turned on, and I couldn't help myself. That's only the third time since the fuckbuddy dance that I've allowed that. I'm trying to make it go away, and it just won't.

I made plans to go to Pride with a few friends, and won't be going after all. All those people will have a similar effect on me and I just can't risk it. I hate that I'm hiding again, I hid for so many years, but for different reasons. But the reasons don't really matter when you hide, the result of isolation is still the same. I'm focusing on things like cleaning, logistics, work. I notice though, that my heart feels heavy with the idea that I have to give up one thing in order to have another. At my age, I want more. Once I kill this off, and hide it away, I don't know that I can let it out of its cage again. This is too hard. So to speak.

Demons

2007-06-22T18:41:00.000-07:00

We talked for an hour.
Your cell phone started to cut out, so I had to call you back.
You told me you were going to the concert with her.
We talked about the venue.
We talked about the band.
You told me that you don't expect me to wait for you, but you will figure this out.
I told you I wouldn't wait, but the next day I wanted to add to that: but I'm here right now, so let's enjoy the time we have to explore now.
You told me that you pour out your soul and I don't tell you anything.
So I told you about my demons.
That this particular demon belongs to you.
I told you that this thing has been sparked in me.
All dressed up and no place to go.
You asked me, sounding astonished, if I'd never had fantasies before.
I tried to explain that it wasn't like that, but I did a poor job. The next day, I wanted to explain it more.
You said yes, you'd like to come over Saturday.
That whatever happens on Saturday it will be nice.
You said something about possibly not remembering the call, and I told you that I would use that to my advantage, and tell you that you promised me cuffs and a collar.
You laughed.
The next day was busy, and I had to call you. You had to call me back.
All of this erased proof that we'd spoken so intimately the night before.

You didn't remember any of it.
I'm the only witness to one of the best conversations I've ever had.

As I drove to work that following morning, I made mental plans to send you flowers.

Why It Matters

2007-06-18T18:28:00.000-07:00

Driving in to work this morning, I thought about this journal blog. I thought about a lot of things. I also had a fantasy about her that caused a flood. I thought also about why this issue matters to me so much, why can't I just push this part of me aside and ignore it.

I've never experienced this. In relationships, whether they were a weekend-stand or longer term, I've never experienced my sexuality as something outside of me, with its own life support system. I'm single, and you'd think, if you happened upon this, that being single could mean going from person to person and experience whatever the hell you wanted to. I could, if this wasn't so powerful and personal for me.

Some of the things rolling in my head are intensely personal. For me, that requires that I trust the person I'm exploring this with. And I trust her with this side of me. During the fuckbuddy dance, we left our mutual body issues outside the door, and just let loose with each other. We allowed ourselves to just experience each other without judgment, without baggage. That may be something the rest of the planet does with abandon, but I've never experienced sex like that before. It's either been mine or my partner's issues in bed with us. And since I trust her, I feel safe exploring this side of myself with her.

If she doesn't wish to open the door, she would be justified. I wasn't fair to her, and it makes me crazy that I was so stupid. If she doesn't, there are alternatives, but they're bothersome. There's the part about only wanting to have sex, which wouldn't be fair to someone else if they wanted a relationship, but there's the trust. I think it's possible that once this settles some, that I could do that. But this matters so much because it's happening now, and I don't want to wait for it to settle. I've spent a fourth of my life running from people, and now that I've opened this floodgate I can't close it so easily.

Those are the highly emotional sides of this. Then there's the reality. The reality that the door is closed because of my stupidity. It makes me deeply sad that I've created a situation that is double-sided: the freeing feeling of finding something new and amazing about myself, and the reality that I need to crush it down until it stops breathing, so that I can continue to breathe.

Unringing the Bell

2007-06-16T17:37:00.000-07:00

I don't want a relationship. I don't want someone moving into my house, taking over the remote and my life. I don't want to do someone else's laundry. I can only make cereal for dinner some nights. I want my life to remain separate from someone else.

You can't unring a bell that's been rung. I stayed away from all forms of human relationships for years, and hid away my sexuality under solid concrete. Occasional forays into masturbation were vanilla and uninspiring, mostly for physical release. I needed to stay away from people, lest I be crushed under the weight of their expectations.

Then things with her became different.

We shape-shift the contacts we have with each other, sometimes for necessary reasons. We are different things to each other at different times. Not long ago we became fuckbuddies.

Fuckbuddy is a crude but accurate word. It means, in this part of the world, someone to have sex with as opposed to masturbating in the shower. We have been on the same page, in spite of my flip-out about her wanting to pursue him. I think she believes I flipped out about that part, but I didn't. I flipped out because I thought she took my choice from me. She was honest, and I didn't believe she was completely honest, and said really stupid things. I want those words back. You can't unring a bell that's been rung.

I'm not the same person as the last time we danced, which is why this feels so much healthier. We've been honest about this thing, exploring sexual needs. That's all the good part. That's not the demon. The demon is what's been planted in me, causing an existential catastrophe. You can't unring a bell that's been rung, and it's making me crazy.

There's been no place to put these things that tumble out of my imagination. Fantasies, specific ideas of what I want to do to please her, and what I'd like to have for myself. I can't lock them away, and I don't have the courage to ask her to open the door again. They have no place to go.

Which brings me further into the existential catastrophe. I'm faced with asking, vulnerable, for that door to be opened again and face it closing, or asking someone else to open that door. That involves two things: I don't trust anyone else with this; besides, she knows me. It also means feeling dishonest with someone else because of what this need is. This isn't a need for a relationship, this is a need for exploring sex.

I feel stuck in that I can't take those ideas to someone else without risking hurting them, which I cannot do, or putting up with the pain of sucking it up in the hope that my sexuality gets sealed up again. I'm out of my comfort zone with this, because I don't know if I have the courage ask her to open the door again. I also don't know if there is enough cement in the world to re-seal these things in me, either. You can't unring a bell that's been rung.

Chasing Demons

2007-06-16T16:50:00.000-07:00

I titled this blog Chasing Demons because I chase demons on occasion. I don't PMS anymore but I have times when I can't process things thoroughly. I don't journal, so this is my journal of sorts. I am pretty good at keeping demons away, usually. I feel wholly unable to do that right now. I'm writing it from my own perspective, for my own benefit. I'm going to sometimes speak to the people in my life. If someone happens upon it and doesn't like it, go find something else to read. More later.