I asked a graduate student out to lunch in my department a week ago. I was rather nervous about the whole process because I was interested in potentially more than benign conversation. I ended up making the issue somewhat complicated because I had never asked someone out on a potential date with no real idea if they were even remotely interested. This was my first cold-attempt in my life.
So nervous was I that I actually stuttered while I asked him. It wasn't the most suave moment of my life. He responded by asking I meant 'like friends," to which I responded, "um, sure!" My face was beet red at that point. I may not have been able to see it, but I certainly felt it.
Great, I'm an idiot. And I'm a bumbling one to boot.
He did accept though, and we made plans for the next Tuesday. I still had no idea if he is gay. I strongly suspected, but there are the rare moments when suspicions can be wrong and one's gaydar goes completely bling-bling awry. It's happened before.
The next day we ran into each other in the hallway, and he piped up, "I'm sorry if I assumed..." I looked at him, trying to carry a poker face, but instead I probably ended up looking like a deer in the headlights. "I didn't mean to infer anything," he continued, "I know you didn't mean to..."
"No worries. Nothing to infer, " I lied. "Still on for Tuesday?"
"I don't see why not," he said.
And we parted ways again. I got back to class and he walked back to his office.
Tuesday came by and we went to lunch. It was nice, laid back, and uneventful. I learned about his family and his past, where he came from and why he's in grad school. I also learned how old he is - 24. Damn.
I didn't learn however, if he is gay or not. Which tells me a lot. Either he's not interested or he's not gay. Pretty simple.
I felt less bumbling afterwards, but it didn't lessen the overall projected awkwardness that I felt. I did try. I put myself out on a limb, and nothing happened. I did start a connection for a potential friend, and perhaps that is all it may be - or it may not even make it to that level. I don't know. But I feel like I learned something; I learned that it doesn't kill me to ask, even if it still scares the shit out of me.
But I'm not dead.
I have to invest some energy in risk. The potential payoff is big, if only I can play the game in a way that doesn't show all my cards up front. This will be a long learning process, I'm sure. I've just started, I have to get the inertia going. It's going to take some energy to get this mass into motion. I've got thirty years of previous inertia to thwart to get me moving in another direction. Sure this might blow up in my face, but I had better get focused and transfer this energy more efficiently or it's going to be a very, very long ride.
And not in the good sense. But I already knew that. I just needed to take the first step. I have. Hopefully it gets easier from here.
I talked to Mr. Wonderful about seeing other people. He's in a relationship, and I know that I can't expect him to settle with me, so I shouldn't settle either. I've decided to stay in Reno, and now that I have, I've also realized that I want more out of life than being second best.
What that means for me at this point though, I have no idea.
I still have to synthesize what I want out of my immediate life. I'm not looking for immediate gratification, but I am looking for something satisfying. I'm tired of the fluff.
Mr. Wonderful was pretty understanding about it. He said he understood that I wasn't going to simply focus on him because of where he is in life. He also said that he considers me more than a 'quick fuck' and I've become an important fixture over the past couple of months. He teased mildly that he'd put his jealous feelings aside and let me do what I needed to do.
I say that he teased mildly because it was clear from his face that he wasn't really teasing even though he meant what he said. Complication has crept in, and I'm secretly gratified that it's not just me who feels something. It's not that I'm pleased to have complicated my life any more than it already is, but it is nice to imagine that I'm somewhat important in his life. He called me his emotional rock, and that was nice to hear. I do, however, remind myself constantly that I should not and will not take this quasi-relationship to another level, in order to prevent me from compromising my own morality. Not only that, I realize that such intentions or behavior would drive a wedge between the relationship that we currently have. What we share now is fine. Sharing more would lend to self-depreciation and loathing because I wouldn't forgive myself later.
I will not be a home-wrecker.
That is not my goal, nor my intention.
I keep telling myself this. Does this mean that I have something subliminal going on? Am I trying to convince myself of something? Why do I keep repeating this to myself?
Regardless of my subconscious intentions (or lack thereof) I was honest with Mr. Wonderful about what I was considering. I told him straight-up that I wasn't sure what the protocols were, but I did want to be straight-forward with him. I wasn't fishing for a change of behavior from him, but I was trying to make sure that the air was clear. I don't enjoy furtive. I try to avoid behaving in such behavior.
At least my conscious stays clear on that point.
I still don't want to be second best. And I don't want to be single. I've been told that perhaps I should enjoy being single, experience life by myself. Run with it. I'm doing that. I've been doing it now involuntarily since October of '06. I'm done with that now. I admit that I've been done with it about as soon as I started.
So now I'm branching out. I've decided that I'm staying in Reno, and now that I have, I'm no longer in a venue flux. The uncertainty of where I will be in the next six months has greatly decreased and now I can meet people who I might get to know better, and get to know for a while. I'm not going to be up and leaving the area at any time. As I'm making this paradigm shift, I find that my eye is drawn to a wider selection of men. I've always had pretty wide taste in men in terms of general attractiveness (within the narrow field of Caucasian stock), but this tunnel vision is beginning to expand somewhat of late. I'm finding more men attractive, across a wider age and ethnic range. It's very strange.
I'm actually rather discomforted by it. Especially so when I find myself attracted to 24 year olds.
That one kills me. I apparently haven't learned my lesson.
I just started watching the tv series "Pushing Daisies" and I have to say that it is one of the most original shows that I've seen in a long time. It is quirky, and sadly, I relate to it a bit.
Friday night was a busy night. I started out at a shabbat gathering with friends from Hillel, and that was a lot of fun. There were some new faces and we were missing some faces, but that's in the spirit of a student group event. I had a chance to catch up with some people I haven't seen in a while, and just for simply that, I had a great time.
Afterwards, I convinced a couple of my friends to go out dancing, and we started at the Five Star. The crowd there was all right, but not spectacular. The music was also okay, but again, nothing was spectacular. We hung out there for a couple of hours, but we then decided to go to Tronix to see if we could find anything better. It wasn't, the music was horrible and the place was dead. It was pretty much a total bust in the music venue.
Just as we were leaving though, a tall blond young man in his early twenties reached out for me. I wouldn't have noticed, but my friend Joel stopped me and physically turned me around and pushed me into him. "Hi," I said lamely.
"Hi," he said back. "Do I know you"
"No, I don't think so," I said after thinking about it for a moment.
"Oh. Were you here last week?"
"Yeah, I was here for about a half an hour, but the music sucked, so I left"
"Yeah, it's not so great tonight."
"No, it's been pretty terrible lately." I looked at him, but it was dark and I was a bit overwhelmed by all the smoke, so I didn't get a good look at him. "My friends and I were just leaving though."
"Oh," he paused, "can I have your number?"
"Um, sure." I gave it to him. He gave me his.
"Do mind if I call you sometime?" he asked.
"No, please do!" I said, and then exchanged goodbyes.
As we were leaving I turned to Joel and told him that I hadn't noticed that he was interested in the first place.
"No," he said, "and you wouldn't have noticed that he was trying to get your attention unless I intervened. So I did."
"Thank you." I smiled at him. "I really am clueless."
"I know," he grinned. "I know."
We went back to the Five Star where at least the music was marginally better. The DJ there is generally a bitch, but she has some taste - even if it is sometimes questionable. We made it back and the first thing I needed to do with my little bladder was use the restroom, so I headed in that direction. Low and behold, back there at the pool table was FM, beer in his hand and noticably drunk. I put my head down and scoot on by while he talking to somebody hoping that he didn't see me. I finished my business and then had to walk by him again, trying to make myself invisible.
I know, I know. It doesn't work. I tried it anyway.
I made way back to the front of the bar and told my friends that he was in the back there. I had immediately forgotten the boy at Tronix as soon as I saw FM. They asked if I wanted to leave, and I told them no. I may have felt like a five year old at the moment, but I wasn't going to be run off as if I had done something wrong. The music had palled a bit, but it wasn't because my mind was suddenly spinning because of FM. True, my stomach suddenly hurt, I felt nauseous and suddenly very tired, but I refused to be run off.
So I ignored him. It wasn't one of my prouder moments. I started dancing again, and I was having fun, but I was still thinking of FM. I tried to think of other things, I chatted with my friends, I danced faster. It wasn't working. I looked his direction every so often just to catch glimpses of him, hoping I wouldn't and I did, and he was as cute as ever - even though he was obviously intoxicated.
Damn it!
I bring on my own drama. This is my fault.
I wanted so much to talk to him, but I know better. There were several ways that could go, and all of them led to bad consequences. I could have been an honorable man and tried to say hi, but I had done that before, and the last time I tried that with him, he expressed disdain - only to beg that I give him another chance later that night. I wasn't going to go through that again. I could have been the honorable man and said hello, and then perhaps have him hit me. That was a slim chance, but one that I really am not interested in risking. He hasn't given any reason to think that he'd hit me, and I went through that the last night we talked, but I still have this visceral fear of alcoholism and physical violence. (I blame my step-father, but that's another story altogether.) I could have said hello and then not known how to say goodbye again.
This last bit is my real fear. I fear it most because it is where I am weakest. I have very little confidence in myself. I want him back. I think about him all the time. He's horrible for me. He's a really bad choice. But I can't get him out of my head. If I started talking to him again, I might say yes if he asked me to try again. If I stood in front of him and looked into his eyes, I would let him back into my life. I can't let that happen.
Secretly, I'm still taken by him. It's almost appropriate to say that I love him, although it's not the healthy type of love in any sense. It's not the right kind of love. I want him to change. I want him to be something that I want him to be. I don't want him to be an alcoholic. He can be anything, but I don't want him to be an alcoholic. That is what he wants to be right now, and I can't change him, nor should I want him to change for me. He has to do it himself. I can't be his counselor.
That's why I can't talk to him. I would fall for him again. I already have. I can't let him know that.
I was like a scared little puppy, and I fretted so much that my kidneys were working in overdrive. I had to pee again. It was time for another trek to the bathroom. I didn't want to do that because it would look like I was trying to be coy when I really wasn't. I just needed to pee. If I didn't have to walk to that side of the bar, I'd be more than happy to avoid it. It was unfortunately unavoidable, my bladder was full.
So I had to make the walk of shame again. This time, I didn't have to do it alone. My friend Caesar walked with me, and was kind enough to put his arm around my shoulder. It made me feel better, but I was also obvious. I wasn't invisible, and I wasn't hiding. I was just being a stupid prick.
He obviously saw me, but he didn't say anything. But he looked. I didn't look back. I did my business and when I had to make the trek back, he has placed himself in a place where we couldn't pretend I didn't see him. I wanted nothing of it, I walked right past him and didn't say anything.
I acted like a child. From then on, the game was up. He knew I was in the bar. We looked at each other a lot, but pretended we weren't. He didn't come my way, and I didn't go back to that side. In a half hour, I had to use the restroom again, but this time I left the bar, walked to a casino, and used the restroom there. I was not going to walk past him yet again. I refused to be an even bigger ass by making it seem like I wanted to be seen.
After another hour or so after it was obvious that we were looking at each other, the music died down and people left the dance floor. I didn't want to cross the invisible line in the sand, and it seemed as he didn't either. It was for the best, but it was sure painful. I should have left hours ago, but this is a small town. I can't run whenever we randomly bump into each other. I'd have nowhere to go.
Yet still, it was 3 o'clock in the morning. It was time to leave.
He texted me as I was leaving the building.
Y R U ignoring me?
Damn it. I sighed to myself. I didn't tell my friends at first because they all dislike him. They know how much I tore myself up over him. They know how bad he is for me. They know that I would be stupid enough to go back, and they are trying to protect me.
Damn it.
Because, I texted back, it still hurts. Besides, I didn't think that you wanted to talk to me anyway.
I was the designated driver, and I had to drive everyone home. We made it to my car and I put away my phone but I was distracted. My friends noticed. They insisted that I explain. So I sighed and then shared.
Joel piped up, "Well, he did try to head your direction, but I gave him really dirty looks, so he backed off."
I smiled wanly. Thanks. I wasn't really thankful. I would have liked to talk to him. I can still hear his voice so strongly in my head. I really would have liked to hear it again, which is part of my problem. I should be thankful, but I wasn't.
I started the car and we started heading home. Suddenly flashing lights popped up behind me. I was being pulled over. I looked at my friends, "Did I do something wrong?"
They all shrugged, "No, don't think so. You stopped at the stop sign, you used your signal. Don't know," they said. The police officer came to my window, which I had already rolled down. I had my license and registration in my hand.
"Do you know why I pulled you over?" he asked in a moderately Southern accent. He was a blond man in his mid-40s who was mildly balding. Not unattractive, but I too scared to think about that at the time.
"No sir."
"Your lights aren't on."
"Oh." I hadn't noticed, I looked at my friends, and they all shrugged. Neither had they. "Sorry sir, it's pretty bright out here, I didn't realize..." And I lamely turned them on. We were still downtown. It was a bright as daylight. None of us had noticed.
"Where are you coming from?" he asked.
I thought for a quick second, and then told him the truth. "We where just at the Five Star."
"How much have you had to drink?"
"I had a half of a Smirnoff ice 5 hours ago."
"What did you have?"
"A half of a Smirnoff."
"How long ago?"
"Five hours ago."
"Have you had anything to drink since then?"
"A bottle of water."
"I'm going to have to ask you to get out of the car. You can turn your lights off now."
"Yes sir." I was nervous at that point. I know I hadn't done anything really wrong, except for the forgetting about my lights part. Other than that, I was alright and I knew it, but still, I had never been asked to get out of the car in my life. I handed Joel my keys and followed the officer.
"Why are you shaking?" he asked after he direct me to stand on the sidewalk.
"Because I'm nervous and I'm cold," I said.
"Well, I'm going to ask you to do a couple of things. But first, I'm going to ask you. What did you have to drink again?"
I told him again what I had.
He asked me again how long ago. I told him. "Are you on any prescription drugs?"
"No."
"Have you taken any other drugs?"
"I haven't used any illegal drugs in my life," I said meekly.
"Ok," he said, "I want you to stand in front of me and follow my finger as I move it."
"Do you want me to follow with just my eyes, or move my head?" I asked.
"Just follow with your eyes." He shined his flashlight into my face and had me track his finger back and forth about 12 times.
"Ok," he said. "I normally would have you walk, but if it's pretty slippery out here." I looked down as he gestured at the ice on the sidewalk.
"Do you want me to walk in the street?" I asked.
"No, but I need to stand here for a moment." He took my license and handed it to another officer who had pulled up behind him. He came back with a little black device with a straw, obviously a Breathalyzer. "I need you to blow into this, and only stop when I tell you to."
He held it to my mouth and said blow. I blew into it as he told me to keep going over and over again. Finally he said stop, and he looked at the reading.
"Wow. You're not drunk."
"I know." I said.
"Well, at least you're honest." He grinned at me. I looked at the reading. It was 0.00.
"What happened?" he asked.
"I ran into my ex." I explained sheepishly. I shrugged a little bit.
"Oh, I see." He paused. "Well, let me give you a bit of advice..."
"Yes sir?"
"The next time you are stopped by a police officer, take off the wrist band. That is an automatic 'get out of the car'."
"I promise. I'm sorry sir."
"It's okay," he laughed, "I'm not going to give you a ticket, this was obviously an accident. And you were very honest with me. Just be careful."
"Yes sir. I'm sorry. It won't happen again."
"Okay, you can go."
I got back into my car. "I can't believe that happened!" I said out loud. Everybody in the car was understanding. They really hadn't noticed the lights either, and they all knew I was sober, so they weren't worried.
I drove them home, which was only two or so miles away, and as I was pulling out, FM called.
I debated whether or not to answer it. The weak side won and I picked it up.
"Why did you ignore me?" he asked.
"Because of what I told you in the text. It does still hurt to see you and I wasn't sure if you wanted to talk to me."
"Well, it hurt to be ignored. That wasn't cool."
"It's a two way street. You could have talked to me too."
"Yeah, well," he sighed, "it didn't seem like you wanted to talk to me - so I didn't."
He paused, "I really liked you, you know."
"I know. I liked you too, but it wasn't working."
"You could have made it work if you tried harder. We could have made it work."
"No. You're an alcoholic and I'm a control freak. That doesn't work so well."
"I would stop drinking for you."
"You've had time to do that, you haven't. I can't wait. It hurts too much."
"You just need to ask."
"I already did. I don't want you to be something for me, I want you to be something for yourself."
"So do I."
"I know," I said. "But it's not right, right now. This wasn't working. It's going to take a couple of years." As soon as I said that, I regretted it. That was a statement that could be interpreted as stringing him along. I didn't want to do that.
"Well, I really did like you."
"I liked you too."
"You broke up with me!" he laughed derisively, "How can you say that?"
"Because it's true. But that's the problem."
"What's the problem? That you're not willing to try again?"
"Exactly."
"It really hurt when you ignored me. That was a shitty thing to do."
"I know. We seem to hurt each other a lot." I told him sadly.
"Yeah."
Silence.
"I guess I should let you go," he said.
"You have a good night."
"Are you kidding? How am I supposed to have a good night?" Then he hung up.
And I started crying. I was emotionally and physically overwhelmed. This night had so much going on. I just couldn't keep up.
I finally took a Seroquel that I had gotten from a psychiatrist when I broke up with my ex in June. It forces me to sleep for 25 to 30 hours, and I was at wits end. It was 7 o'clock in the morning, and I ached from exhaustion, but I couldn't sleep. I decided that I didn't care and took the pill and slept the next two days away.
I survived my first two days of instruction, but yesterday was a bit of a trip. I felt a bit loopy and while giving lecture, I was admittedly generally giddy. The students probably either thought I was dynamically fun or deranged. I'm not sure which. Probably both.
My doctor told me to stop the drug I was taking, and to take a week's rest from it. He then told me to start a prescription of Zoloft after the week has passed. I haven't had the time to research the Zoloft yet, but I was going to do so tonight. I certainly hope the side effects aren't as marked as my last experience.
In other news, a professor stopped by because she had apparently heard the rumblings through the grapevine of me wanting to leave. She stopped by to tell me that she was shocked that the department wasn't doing more to keep me and that replacing me would be a near impossibility. She expressed frustration that the department had driven away other good people because of issues of ego (the professors' not caring for competition from non-tenured staff), and it was happening again. She then told me that she would keep an eye out for potential positions at the community colleges in the area for me if I was interested.
Boy am I ever!
I've also made a big step forward, doing something that I had never in my life done before. It scared the shit out of me, and I didn't do everything that I needed to do, but I did take the big leap off the bridge. I didn't get cold water splashed in my face, but that's because I really don't know the outcome just yet. But more on that later.
I'm not liking the Effexor very much. I feel drunk, unsteady, and lightheaded.
It's taking all of my energy to write this. I can't remember words for the life of me. This will be a problem tomorrow when I have to give lecture.
I'm not taking the pills tonight, hopefully this stuff wears off before the morning. I've already written my doctor an e-mail letting him know what I'm doing, and asking for his advisement.
I have to shake the grogginess and the stupification before tomorrow. Please let it wear off by morning.
I made an excursion out to the Black Rock Playa today with Mr. Wonderful. He had never been out there and wanted to see the area, and I was happy to show him around the desert.
There was snow falling in the distance all around us, although the Playa had blue skies. I looked out across the moist salt, remembering where Burning Man was last year. I thought of my time with Bit, and of the things in my past that I let go there.
I uncovered a lot of hidden strength on that lake bed.
I found who I could be if I allowed myself the opportunity.
I remember what it was in myself that I discovered there.
I've been reminded to reach in and rediscover him again.
I'm holding on your rope, Got me ten feet off the ground. I'm hearin what you say but I just can't make a sound. You tell me that you need me Then you go and cut me down, but wait... You tell me that you're sorry Didn't think I'd turn around, said hey,
It's too late to apologize, it's too late. I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late.
I'd take another chance, take a fall Take a shot for you. And I need you like a heart needs a beat But it's nothin new. I loved you with a fire red- Now it's turning blue, and you say "Sorry" like the angel heaven let me think was you. But I'm afraid...
It's too late to apologize, it's too late. I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late.
It's too late to apologize, it's too late. I said it's too late to apologize, it's too late. It's too late to apologize, yeah - I said it's too late to apologize, yeah... I'm holdin' on your rope, got me ten feet off the ground.
There is an age old problem that I can't figure out. No matter how much t.v. I watch, how many books or magazines I read, or how I watch others do it - I can't seem to do it for myself.
It's very odd. I'm considered a quick study. I'm told that I have really good social skills. I've been told that I'm relatively attractive. But still, I just can't seem to get the hang of it.
So I don't even try.
The art of saying hello. How the hell do people do it? Now I'm not looking for a relationship, but I am looking at refining some skills, meeting new people, and making new friends. When I'm at work, I'm fine. When I'm advising a student group, I'm fine. When I'm in front of a classroom, I'm fine. When I'm out at the grocery store, I'm fine. I just plunk down, say howdy, and go from there. But as soon as I think someone is cute, I shut down.
I'll look. They'll look back. But I always wait for them to make the first move. They often don't.
I miss out on meeting new people.
So how do I prevent the heart from racing and the paralyzing fear of being attacked or humiliated if I'm wrong? No clue. It really all distills down to insecurity, and I know that. What's weird is that I can be very effective in some venues, but in this particular one, I've never been able to figure it out. Even with FM, I asked for his number, but he really had made the first move many years before. I have to be certain before I try, I have to be know the answer before I ask the question. I have to read the last few pages of the book before I start at the beginning.
Well, I do that often in real life when reading fiction, but not always.
So what significance is there in treating attractive people like books of fiction, besides the obvious Jungian archetypal jib-jab? I don't know. Haven't been able to figure it out myself, and never had somebody walk me through the art of starting a conversation, I seem to think of myself as quite nerdy and introverted. That limits me. Others realize this after they get to know me, but in the modern day of adulthood, those I just meet (in the situations where I do plunk down and start a conversation) almost always have me pegged as a extroverted leader.
Strange how I can cover it up so well at first. Strange how I can't keep it covered.
So what will it take for me to go out there and talk to attractive people who, might, just might be single and interested in dating me themselves? Not necessarily with a relationship in mind, but the potential of that happening sometime down the road if the stars align correctly would be nice. The problem of meeting them has been solved, I go out more and I see lots of interesting people. Well, a few. Kinda. But it's a start!
Damn, I'm clueless.
I tend to gravitate to people already in relationships, thereby reinforcing my self-image as a secondary character. It was appropriate when I was in a relationship (as appropriate as these things go notwithstanding the heterosexual normative bias toward distaste for such things). I need to stop it now though, because I want more than they can give. Playing is one thing, but I'm not able to play like that right now without taking it personally.
Someone's getting hurt.
I have other things on my mind and my feelings are chaotic.
It's a hell of a lot less convenient when you can't read the ending of the story first. And ya, I'd want to know just so I could see if it made sense as it was unfolding.
Today I took the plunge and talked to my doctor about the issues I've been having for the past several months.
He recommended Effexor and wrote me a prescription.
I'm a bit worried about it, especially after researching the drug because of various issues including the well known and general: suicidal ideation and sexual side effects. This drug specifically affects orgasm in men, and I already have this issue - being able to last far too long sometimes.
Hmmm. That's troubling.
Still, some sacrifice may be needed. So I'll try it for a while and see what happens. Hopefully I don't turn into a zombie. If I come to a point where I don't like the cost-benefit ratio analysis result, then I'll go have another chat with my doctor. Until then, I could use some luck.
After waiting in line behind 6000 other people for four hours (virtually, of course), I now have my ticket to Burning Man this year.
Woo Hoo!
It was expensive, but I know that Pershing County raised the usage fees for the event, so the costs were passed on. Can't blame the committee for that, although the theme of "The American Dream" is rather lame.
We've got a lot of international burners, what are they going to dream? That America wakes up and actually becomes a responsible party on the global playing field?
I went on a short walk yesterday with my friend before heading out to the airport for my flight back to Reno. While out, she and I had a conversation about our lives and potential futures, sharing the uncertainty of it all. We’ve known each other for ever so long, but even now they amaze me as I know I surprise them. Even with that surprise though, comes the comfort of knowing who they are and having some predictive value for them anyway.
I love them as much as they love me. Our lives have changed, but we are still connected. We are family, and sometimes we piss each other off, but we also bring much comfort and joy into each others’ lives.
I was uncertain about what was going to happen when I came across the continent to visit them. I’ve changed so much and have become so uncertain about my life, my goals and my present that I wasn’t sure what I was going to do – either with my life in general or with them. Did I need a break from them for a while? How long was that going to be? Months? Years? Did they need a break from me?
After what happened this summer when they dropped so much to pick me up out of the abyss I had fallen into, we had needed some time apart, we just didn’t know how long that was going to be.
Six months have passed, and we tested the waters. I flew to North Carolina to spend 11 days with them and see where we were. At first I was hesitant. I was uncertain and wasn’t sure what was going to happen. I wasn’t even sure what I wanted. I wasn’t sure about what I was even feeling.
There was so much that seemed to be in the balance, and I was very frustrated with myself for that. How could I even consider a life without them in it? How could I still be so co-dependant to not consider it? What was important to me? I had no idea. All I knew was that I was going to make it or break it. This was my problem. The issues were in my head.
Do I run or do I stay?
I feel horrible about it because I was actually debating a life where I had cut everybody off. I have already done that to a large extent, and am now making great effort to try to slowly (one person at a time) begin again. I am re-establishing old relationships and re-forging old friendships. I’ve been doing that more slowly in the past couple of months though, and I’ve let some of the newly forged ties relapse yet again. I get overwhelmed and then I retreat. My friendship with these two though, they are the foundational pivot-point of all my friendships. They are beyond friendship, they are family.
If I cut them off, then I would be cutting off everybody, because it would be the transition and signal for me to wind down and then stop. I would have faded into the black, accepted defeat, and given up. I may not have done that overnight, but it would have ultimately happened. It still might, but hopefully, with my own will and their help (consciously and not) I won’t be allowed to sink that far.
This past week has reinforced the fact that they are extremely important to me and my life and that I am very lucky to have them. They care about me a great deal, and I care about them immensely too. I can’t imagine a life without them. I have disappeared from most of my friends’ lives, unless they make a point to keep in contact with me. That is not really fair to any of them, and it makes me an emotional black hole. I don’t really want to be that, and I have avoided making it worse by disappearing. Better to say nothing at all than actively drive people away, I thought. But that’s not really a constructive attitude. The world isn’t binary. If I drive some away, then I don’t really need them in the first place. If some stick around as I try to figure it out, then I know that they’re valuable and important.
As long as I don’t wallow too long and be constantly negative, then it’s okay to live and learn without becoming a hermit. I've chosen hermit for a long time now. It was inappropriate. I felt as if I was in the way and full of baggage. That might be true, but it doesn’t make me any less of a person. It makes me real. I’m not a Stepford wife.
I realized that I was considering a very stupid thing. I was considering a slow and lonely life. I was considering a life similar to that of my father, and although it was without all the anger, it was just as destructive. I am so much better than that, and my friends are worth so much more than that. They are fantastic, irreplaceable, unique, and loving people. I would be stupendously foolish to walk away from them.
My brother told me that a couple of weeks ago during Christmas. I should listen to him more often. And then again, perhaps not.
It’s a crapshoot with him, but I love him anyway.
One of the things that my friend and I talked about yesterday was the fact that perhaps I should be talking to a doctor. These past seven months have ravaged my body and my mind. I’ve lost 30 pounds. I stopped sleeping. Even with medication I still don’t sleep well. My memory, both long and short-term, have gone to hell, and I’ve been having mood swings. The mood swings aren’t acute, but they are noticeable to me and I don’t appreciate them very much. This is especially because they tend towards depression, and that just isn’t very conducive to making a better life for myself. I have trouble concentrating and am easily distracted. I can’t seem to get anything done. Even writing has been a chore lately.
That is particularly frustrating.
I’m loathe to attempt further medication than the sleeping medication that I’m currently prescribed because of my pride and because I fear, of all things, weight gain. That’s probably a pretty vain reason, especially considering the fact that I’ve lost so much weight when I didn’t have it to lose in the first place. Regardless, I’m rather happy with my 118 lbs on my small frame, and since I’m still well within a healthy weight range, according to my doctor, then I am generally fine. (I wouldn’t mind gaining up to 125, but I’d want it to stop there – and it damned well better be muscle!)
My friend advocated that I do talk to my doctor about these things and see if there is something that can be done about all of these symptoms. She had something in particular in mind, but I honestly, already forgot the name of it. That in itself tells me that I have to do something, my memory is supposed to be relatively legendary across my group of friends. I made an appointment with my primary care physician for this next Thursday. I’m going to be honest with him and tell him what I’m going through. If he suggests something, then I’m going to have a reasoned discussion with him about why, the options, and how it will help. If he’s certain, then I will follow his advice.
These are big things. I’ve re-found my center in terms of my closest friends. It now time to really begin to re-establish my relationships with others. Several have reached out, but I’ve not been particularly open or available to take them up on their offers or their efforts. It doesn’t mean that I don’t value them, I’m just embarrassed and too socially mortified to deal with the expectations or the pressure. What makes it all the worse is that I’m generally socially awkward to begin with, so reaching out and apologizing (or ignoring the fact that I was distant in the first place) is not something that I’m really capable of doing right now.
Maybe medication will help. Maybe not.
Regardless, I have to reconsider the path that I’ve currently been walking. It has been pretty lonely, and while I am an intrinsically introverted person, it’s been even more lonely than even I know is good for me. I may feel most comfortable hiding in my hole, but it’s not a healthy place to be.
It’s time to retrace some of my steps because the universe isn't so opaque anymore. I can see some of what is up ahead, and it's time to take note. It is time to take some different turns and walk another path. It’s going to be uphill for a while because lately I’ve been taking the path of least resistance, but it’s time.
During the night after going to Flex, I woke up in tears while dreaming about my ex. It must have been a mixture of extreme tiredness, alcohol, and sleeping pills that did it, but I’m actually rather glad that I had the particular dream I did.
I had dreamt that we were at some unidentified hotel. It was bright, and there was a lot of people and activity surrounding us. I don't remember anyone's faces, other than the faces of my accompanying group.
We were at the hotel to have lunch with his mother, my mother, and my mother's husband. I was rather embarrassed about my mother's husband being present, as I generally am. He is uncouth and without merits of civilization and decency and this fact was juxtaposed my ex-mother-in-law, who is a woman of poise, grace, and Parisian respectability. I was also uncomfortable about having my mother at this luncheon, because I knew she was going to be emotional and try and talk my ex into reconsidering his relationship with me, and to perhaps try to take another go at it. I didn't want her to say anything of the sort, but I wasn't sure what to say to her without generating an emotional outburst from her, so I didn't say anything at all.
We made it to the restaurant in the hotel, and it was a brightly lit place with cream yellow booths and white tables. The middle of the restaurant had a large buffet, the type that are commonly found in Nevada casinos. It wasn't like any of the casinos I could recall, and the whole place had a casino/diner feel about it - which was really confusing because the unspecified hotel that we were in was supposed to be a rather nice place.
We were ushered to our seats by a hostess, and we all took our seats. As soon as we did and my ex was assured that his mother was settled, he stood up and asked me to follow him. I looked up and nodded, pushed back my chair and stood up. I smiled at my mother and then his, and followed him out of the restaurant and into the carpeted hallway of the hotel.
Once we were out of eyesight, he took me aside and told me that he was no longer seeing the person he had left me for. I asked him why he told me that. He looked pained and said that he had made a mistake and that he wanted try again. He asked me to come back to him. I told him that I really wasn't sure why I had agreed to this lunch in the first place, but that in all honesty I really didn't want to be friends with him. I told him I was being nice, that I enjoyed his mother's company, and although she had her moments, I respected her. I agreed to this lunch for her, and not for him. He begged me to reconsider and when I continued to refuse, he then physically pulled me into a sitting room down the hallway. He let me go in front of huge picture windows that were framed with flowing drapes of white sheer material. In front of these windows were long pew-like benches arranged in an outdoor theater-style and allowed a view into the courtyard garden below. As he repeated that he had made a huge mistake and wanted to come back to the United States to live with me, I looked out these windows at the greenery, because I couldn't look at his face or into his pleading eyes.
When he paused, I turned an looked at him. I stared at him silently for a moment, thousands of thoughts were whirling in my head. I was conflicted. I desperately didn't want to hurt his feelings and push him away, but simultaneously my anger and hurt were renewed. Out of the many things I wanted to say, both hurtful and amiable, I told him that he had made his bed and that he has to live with the consequences of what he had done. I told him that I used to love him, and some part of me still does. But I am too hurt by how he had left me to ever take him back. I never want to feel again the way I felt when he left me. I told him that I would never disrespect myself that way again.
Behind us while we were talking was a random unidentified brown curly-haired woman with shoulder length hair. She was wearing a professionally tailored rust colored jacket with a matching skirt and a little girl in little white dress with a flower pattern who was about 4 or five years old was holding her hand. It became apparent that she was listening to our conversation, and she tried to nonchalantly sit down behind us while pretending to attend to the little girl beside her. The little girl was in her own little world, but as we talked the woman became less and less concerned with being discrete and was more obviously interested in our conversation. She was leaning in, trying to hear what we were saying as we talked. I didn't care if she was actively listening to us or not and while I wasn't talking loud enough for her to purposely overhear, I wasn't going to acknowledge her or be chased off by her. My ex, on the other hand, was more and more obviously annoyed by her and he wanted privacy. As she became more obvious about listening to our conversation about why I wouldn't reconsider attempting our relationship, I too became frustrated by her lack of discretion. My ex began to glare at her, listening less to me and more paying attention to his frustration about her. They wouldn't leave though and so he started being obnoxious in his very french way by being rude and telling them to go away. I was overtly reminded about the things I didn't appreciate in him while we were together.
He couldn't just ignore things and had to have everything exactly as he wanted it when he wanted it. He had no patience for strangers. He exhibited little understanding for others. Sometimes it seemed as if his life was all about his needs.
The woman finally stood up and left with the little girl. When she did, his attention came back to me and he began to ask me again to come back to him, to give him another chance. I dug my heels into the ground. This wasn't about pride, this was about my health and future well-being. I kept saying no. He didn't listen to me though, he kept asking (just as I did when he left me). None of my answers were good enough for him, so I tried to change the subject. I didn't know what else to say so I asked about our lunch party, reminding him that they must miss us at this point. He said he didn't care and he just wanted to repair the relationship and try to make it work again.
He was becoming more and more desperate and when he realized that I wasn't going to budge and acquiesce, he stood up and dragged me to the plush chairs seated in front of the draped picture windows on the other side of the room. I resisted him as he pulled me, angry and shocked that he grabbed me, demanding to know what right he had to physically yank me. He ignored me as he struggled to pull me all the way to the chairs and once there, he then let go and collapsed, crying.
As he sobbed, he told me how much he loved me and how confused he was. He explained that he hadn't meant the things he had said when he left me. He had said them in order to make himself feel better and to do what he thought was best, to help me let go of him easier. At that point, I started crying too, and told him that I could never forget the things he had said. I couldn't forgive those things because he had said them the way he did, and because he left me in the way he did. In tears, I told him that I could never go back to him. Doing so would disrespect myself. Doing so would legitimize what had happened, and I could not do that. I took a moment that felt like forever and I watched the tears stream down his face and as they fell down mine, and after those seconds of forever, I took a deep breath. I looked into his eyes and told him that I would never forgive him. I could not go back. He reached for me and cried harder and begged me to forgive him, and I quietly and sadly simply whispered no as I pulled away.
And I woke up sobbing. And I cried for a half hour before I fell asleep again.
But strangely, I feel better. After waking up again and still remembering this dream, I know that I am strong enough to know what is right in terms of that relationship. It is over. I am done. We are done. If somehow the world was to turn upside down and he was to ask me back, I know now that I could and would say no. And I know now that I would stick to it and not capitulate. I really can say no, no matter how painful it is. I know that I have let him go. I may dream about him, I may still hold a part of him in my heart, but he is really a chapter of the past, and I have closed that book entirely.
I feel so much better.
As I was thinking about this dream this morning, my mind wandered in the hour or so I sat in bed pondering the thoughts that floated about my head. In one of those thought tangents, I was struck by the oddness of my ex's name. It sounds so foreign now, it seems as if I was never associated with his name in the first place. And, somehow, that distances my association with him. When I say or hear our names together in my head, or now when I say it out loud, or even when I remember hearing others saying our names together when we were a couple, the word no longer resonates. It seems distant, odd, and even wrong now. Did I ever have a relationship with somebody with that name? Yes, obviously. How did that happen? Who was he? Did I ever really know him? For five years we were together, but now, it seems so far away that it doesn't seem like it happened at all.
My feelings, our experiences together, and our lives all still have very strong impressions in my head, but his name is starting to fade. The memory of him isn’t diminishing, but the memory of how his name is and was associated with me is getting dimmer. It’s slipping away. It no longer resonates in my head and mind. The notes are out of sync, and they will probably never be tuned again, the melodic chord has gone flat. It is broken. And now time is starting to wipe it away.
And I am glad. I am letting go. I feel stronger. I feel more confident. The weight on my shoulders is slackening up a bit. I feel like I am finally starting to heal. It's just a little bit, but it's another step forward. This dream was a sign of my inner strength and acceptance. I don't need him, I don't need his legacy of questioning my worth and value. I don't need to continuously feel as ugly as he told me I was. I have learned from him, I have grown from this experience. And now I know I can say that I am heading in a different direction. I am no longer attached to him. Regarding him, I have not and will not be second guessing myself anymore. I have let him go, this dream indicated that. In retrospect, I haven't pining after him for months, and it seems that I already have let him go.
I am done. And yes, there might still be times when the memories will come. There will be times when those memories will be painful or even happy - but they are just memories. I need not cling to them and hope for parallel universes. These memories will not determine or direct my life or my self-esteem. They are flotsam and jetsam, and I have to keep on sailing. I gotta move forward. It's a big, big sea - and I have a lot of distance to cover in the time I have left on this world. I won't live forever, and I have to stop being stuck in the past if I want to live life now.
The only way I will find port is to pull up that anchor, shake off the rubbish - pry off the barnacles, and set up the sail and go. Skiffing takes too long, and makes me reminisce about what had been. I might even have to turn on the engines for this one. But even still, moving on is the key. At least I got that part started. I need to start focusing on what could be because I make it, not what could have been through somebody else. The only way to do that is to make my own journey.
My friends and I went to Flex last night. Apparently there are three gay bars in Raleigh.
In the past year, I've been to the other two, but I had never been to this particular one. While on a meandering downtown Raleigh visit with my friend from Atlanta, we decided to go to a bookstore, but didn't know where anything was. I had my Garmin GPS with me and we plugged in the work book into shopping options and the map displayed various bookstores in the immediate area. I was reading out the names of these stores as my friend drove, and one name caught his attention.
White Rabbit Bookstore.
He stopped me, exclaiming, 'Let's go there!'
So we followed the map directions, and as we turned the last corner, we saw a rainbow flag flapping above the windows.
‘Huh,’ I said, “how did you know that?”
“I didn’t” he said, “but I had a hunch it would be interesting.”
“Alice in Wonderland, eh?” I asked.
“Something like that, but honestly, I was thinking more bohemian.”
We both laughed and stepped inside. It was empty except for an African-American man browsing the pornography and a bubbly African-American female clerk. After doing some price checking, where I found that my favorite lube is over twice the price in North Carolina than that in San Francisco ($62 versus $28 for a 500 mL bottle), we perused the cards for a while. We finally made it to the porn and laughed at some of the selections that they had, there was a bargain bin full of porn from the 80’s that we rifled through, laughing at the mullets and the full flowing rock star hair. We compared movie titles we owned and otherwise had a great time.
As we were looking through the books, my friend found a comic book that would be an amusing, if stinging gift for his current boyfriend. Rather tongue in cheek, we giggled as we flipped through the pages. He said he might actually get it as a gag gift, but he wanted to think about it.
We had to get going after not too long though because we had a dinner party at my friend’s place, and it was a 40 minute drive back to their home from downtown Raleigh. As we were leaving, I noticed that there was literature about the gay scene in one corner (as there should be in any respectable queer bookstore), but didn’t pick up a paper as I should have.
Two days later we were driving back in the bookstore. My friend was leaving to head back home to Atlanta and he had decided to get the comic. When we showed up, the clerk, this time a very young blonde tall boy, was smoking outside seemed happy to have customers. He quickly put out his cigarette as we walked in the store. We picked up the comic and went to the counter. My friend asked if it there were other gay establishments in town and the clerk grinned.
“It all depends on what you’re looking for,” he said.
“I just know about one gay bar,” my friend said.
“We have three in Raleigh,” said the clerk defensively.
My friend ignored the defensive tone and I piped up, “Well, neither of us are from here,” I grinned at him and added “obviously.”
He grinned back, asked where we were from, and then began to explain all the gay sights that Raleigh has to offer.
Twenty minutes, a listing of gay coffee shops, a map, and a daily schedule of gay events later, we were on our way to meet up with my friends at the Museum of Natural Sciences. As we got into the car and my hands were full of literature, my friend from Atlanta said, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for that to take so long.”
“Why are you apologizing?” I responded, all that information benefited me. You’re leaving this afternoon.
“I know, but I just couldn’t just leave him while he was talking. He seemed so happy just to be able to talk to somebody.”
I rolled my eyes, but I smiled. “Yeah, he seemed pretty lonely.”
My friend let out a pitiful laugh. “I just didn’t think he would go on that long. Sorry about that.”
“You’re as apologetic as I am.”
Later, as I was going over the weekly itinerary given to me by the clerk, we saw that there was a drag show at a bar called Flex on Thursday nights. We had other plans for every other day, but our Thursday was open and my North Carolina friends were pretty excited about going. ‘We had so much fun at that drag show at Legends the last time we went,’ they said. That was when I was in Raleigh during Thanksgiving a year before. That was an event show, and well performed and executed. This one on this Thursday was themed Trailer Park Thursday and I wasn’t expecting something quite as glossy. I kept my mouth shut though because while my friends have been closer than family since our freshman year of college, they don’t often volunteer to go to queer activities with me.
That Thursday, we dressed up for a night out and headed out to the show which was scheduled for 12:30 at night. As we got closer, I started thinking about the late hour of the show and the potential clientele, especially when taking the website into consideration because it's "Raleigh's Bar for Men.”
I thought out loud on the drive over, ‘I’m not sure if there will be many women at this place,” I was quiet for a second, “If you’re uncomfortable, stick close to me.” I wasn’t so worried about her husband. He often fits in better than I generally do, and in any event, he’s a hell of a lot more social than I am.
We parked and as we walked down the steps into the basement level of this building where the bar is, my trepidation grew. I’m not sure about this, I thought. But I smiled, and confidently paid the cover charge and stepped in, then waited to see if they’d let her in with her husband. They showed up just a moment later.
“I can’t believe they let you in!” I blurted, half-joking, half not. She looked around, saw only men. And smiled really big (in a ‘Oh my god, where the hell am I?’ way) and said, “I can’t believe they did either!”
I asked them both if they wanted a drink. She nodded emphatically, “Yep!”
So I asked them what they wanted, got in line as they shadowed me, and bought the first round of drinks. While we were waiting I leaned over and whispered to them, as well as one could in a loud crowded bar, “This place kind of reminds me of a bathhouse!” And it did. No one was dancing even though the music was fine. Everyone was just talking to each other or otherwise standing off by themselves. The meat market was ripe and just a tad bit stale. I needed a shot, and I asked my friends what they wanted. I got myself a shot of jagermeister and handed them their drinks. Cheers, I said loudly and then swallowed my shot.
I needed the shot even more when I found out what alcohol costs in North Carolina
My friend looked at me, her eyes got even wider and she leaned over to her husband, and said, “Did you just see that? He just downed that!”
I smiled and started walking to the next room. It opened up a bit and I saw a couple of women. I turned to my friend, “See, you aren’t the only one!”
The crowd was starting to get a bit thicker. It was 12:15 or so and the show was going to start soon. About then two men walked into the part of the bar where we were in. I saw them, but didn’t pay too much attention because they were both in their late 40s or early 50s. One of them however, quickly began to stare. He wasn’t subtle, and it was pretty uncomfortable in a very short period of time. He started getting closer, and I began to back up into my friends. He kept staring and I tried to make it clear I wasn’t interested. I purposely looked away from him, but I had to be careful because when I wasn’t watching him, he stepped all that much further closer to me.
At one point he got right in front of me and I moved to the side next to my best friend, hoping that his size would deter this other guy. Nope, it didn’t. He moved in front of me again and tried to back into me. I sidestepped him and stood next to my other friend. He sidestepped again and turned around, almost hitting her in order to put a hand around me.
I stepped a large step back and put my hand up. “No, I’m not interested!” I said emphatically while my friend simultaneously tried to avoid him and also tell him to back off. He turned around again, tried feebly to back into me, but I moved as far away from him as I could next to my friend and still see the stage. He slowly moved away and then slipped into the crowd.
The show itself was much ado about nothing. It rivaled Reno’s pathetic drag, and then some. The white trash theme was rather appropriate. Keeping that in mind, we had a great time. My friends bought me another jager shot and they shared one more smirnoff. After that, the white elephant prizes and poorly practiced lip-syncing seemed a lot more fun.
When the show was over, the crowd cleared out fast. So fast you could almost hear the sucking sound of the resultant vacuum. More good music, and still no one danced – except for me. I was the only one. And I kept it mild. That lasted about 15 to 20 minutes as they watched me without joining in that I gave up and said I was ready to go home.
Next time I’m in Raleigh, we’re going back to Legends. My friends were in full agreement.
The text messages from Mr. Wonderful have been rather interesting of late. There is a rapid expansion of intensity and feeling in them, and he is becoming more and more cozy. In this past month, we’ve both texted rather generic things to each other, and although we’ve both done a fair amount of flirting through them, there has been this unspoken expectation of distance. We’ve kept each other at arm’s length, due to the fact that this is new and we neither of us want to seem too eager (especially me) and the fact that he is in a relationship. I still want to keep him a bit at arm’s length, and simultaneously I want to be friends as well as fuck buddies. I don’t want to become emotionally attached to him because of the relationship issue and because I’m still quite sure that I’m not ready right now for anything more with him than I’m already doing.
He however, seems to be letting some of the walls drop. The reserved demeanor is weakening, and his texting is becoming suggestive of further interest. But as soon as that happens, he pulls back and so do I.
We're both reticent to move forward to any direction that could create an emotional predicament. Still, there is the inevitable push, and that shows by the fact that we're both opening up to each other both in person and in print. The evolution of things are rather interesting, and that worries me just a bit. I am having fun though. I feel more confident in myself, and I'm not worried or obsessed over and about him. I like him, but I'm not torn like I was with FM. He likes me too, that is apparent enough, but he's got other things on his plate. That's fine. I'm not going to analyze any of this too much because I'll inevitably complicate things for myself, and I'm not in a place where I need to do that right now.
Things are expanding rapidly. My life is opening up. The universe isn't so opaque anymore. I can see well ahead of me, even if I still don't yet know my goals. I have ideas, and they are coalescing and taking shape, one fragment at a time. There is no big picture, there is no purpose, life just is right now. It is this moment. I have lots of opportunities before me, and living in these moments allows me to see them for the first time in a long time. As I become more confident, as I gather up more pieces, I will become stronger. When it's time to make a decision, I will then have to settle on a direction and begin to move. As I move, I'll collect more pieces to fill in the gaps and my goals will grow and evolve, as will my choices.
Things will begin to take shape again. Order out of chaos.
Mr. Wonderful is a part of my current experience. Who knows what will happen with him and how long this is going to keep. My relationship with him is expanding, as these things tend to do over time when there is regular contact. What that means, I don't know. Where I want it to go ultimately, I don't know. I know right now isn't the right time though for any hopes of futures with him. Right now is the satisfaction of living in the moment. I have that and I like what I have. I don't feel like I need any more. I'm not wanting.
I certainly don't know the future, but I do know that I'm gaining confidence and coming to a place where I feel strong again. I have some big changes to make, I have some hard choices to make, and I have some tough times ahead. My life will constantly be dynamic because the universe continues to pick up speed and expand as I age. It isn't getting smaller, there is no steady-state. For a while I wanted to give up, because I couldn't see beyond the horizon. I'm sure those feelings will continue to come and go, but I can't surrender. I have to grow with it and it's time to get moving.
I have to go back to work next Monday. I’m not looking forward to it. I am looking forward to meeting new students and teaching, but if only that were independent of my department.
But it’s not, and in order to be able to do what I do now, I have to deal with them too. That part sucks, my 5 year old self laments.
I need to call a professional contact of mine. He has asked be to do a bit of consulting work for the state these past couple of years, and the past couple of projects have been really big reviews of state grants and proposals. He seems to like my work enough to keep asking me back, so perhaps I should use him as a potential springboard into another career.
Being a consultant for a bigwig in the State Department of Education has to provide some job opportunities, right? We’ll see. I’ve never asked, and perhaps now is the time to do so. The state just began a hiring freeze this month, so it may be a while before something opens up, but that may give me time to shore up some of the things that I need to be competitive. Unfortunately, for most of the things I am interested in doing and can do require that I have three years of public teaching experience. I’ve got the Master’s, but don’t have the public experience. I have 8 years of experience in teaching higher ed, but unfortunately that doesn’t translate into public secondary education experience for the State. So I’ve bit of finagling to accomplish. That is why I need to talk to this contact. He might have some ideas of where I might fit, without the need for the public ed experience or he may have ideas on how I can make myself look better on paper in the next six months or so. My years of teaching higher ed coupled with countless invitational courses that I’ve taught on campus in addition to all the consulting work that I’ve done for him and the State in general, there’s got to be something out there for me that pays well (or at least, marginally better than what I make now).
We’ll see. The only way to know is to ask. Doing nothing gets me nowhere so I might as well stop complaining and start acting. Time to slap that 5 year old around (in a very figurative sense!), and get on the ball. I’m going to e-mail him next week and inquire.
Mr. Wonderful texted me tonight and was apparently in a very emotional and contemplative mood. I haven't known him long, but in the little more than a month that I have known him, he rarely opens up and this was a rare peek inside.
I was surprised at this unexpected emotional gush and a little suspicious that he might have been a little drunk. The last (and only other) time he opened up emotionally he had a bit too much to drink. I’m not really too worried about his drinking on one level. He’s not an alcoholic from what I can tell, and his drinking is social and appropriate. He’s nothing like FM, and I’m not tempted to compare the two in such a way. However, when Mr. Wonderful has become a little more than buzzed, he drops the walls and lets me inside. He shows me someone who is as insecure as me. He worries that he isn’t good enough, smart enough, successful enough or happy enough. He wants more than he has, but doesn’t know how to get it. He feels that there should be more to life, but isn’t sure what that is, or where he is supposed to find it.
It drives him to tears.
I know how he feels. I’ve been feeling the same helplessness and impotence for months (and even years) now. I want to do something else, to be something better, but I’m so afraid of failing that I do nothing. I’m stuck in the mire of my own limitations, and it’s my own fault. It doesn’t make me a bad or lesser person, it just prevents me from pursuing what I really want. It prevents me from attempting my own dreams.
He seems similarly stuck. He doesn’t show any of this internal emotional muck normally. Indirectly perhaps he does because of relationship complications that I participating in with him, but generally he is pretty emotionally unavailable. I’ve been analogously accused of such foibles, and it drives me to tears too because I know what I’m doing wrong, I just seem incapable of changing my own path.
He is wracked by indecision about his career. He wants to leave his business because he is unhappy, but he doesn’t want the shackles of regular employment. He enjoys the freedoms of self-employment, but isn’t fulfilled by his work nor is he happy with his business partner. Along with that indecision about his career follows uncertainty about his feelings of self-worth, independence, happiness and security. I have to say that I empathize with him in the general sense, if not specifically in some categories.
I replied that the eve of any proposed transition is unsettling, and regardless of what is going on, he needs to talk with somebody. Talking out ideas helps to crystallize perspective in a way that is generally healthy. He has more strength than he gives himself credit, and he has more resources than he realizes.
While extrinsically generic, it's true. We all know these things about ourselves. The trick is believing in them - believing in ourselves.
I've lost inspiration and I'm drifting a bit. I know that the drama I've been living in is my own, and I know that I make my own future. I'm having difficulty focusing - on writing, on talking, on my friends, and my future. I go through the motions, but I'm pretty numb. I don't feel much of anything. I'm as emotionally unavailable as the people I'm bonding with. I bond with emotionally unavailable people.
I am frightened of dynamicism.
I want to shake this off. I know I am supposed to just be able to stand up and shrug off these feelings. But for some reason I can't. For some reason I stay stuck in the mire that I've constructed for myself. For some reason every step I take towards solid ground, I find myself caught even deeper than before. As I move forward, the spongy dank mire grows ever wider, and I find myself forced to consider what has trapped me.
Myself.
My own choices are the root of my insecurity. My own choices are the reasons for my loneliness. I want to run, to disappear. I want to be safe, to get lost, to be an unknown.
I want to be happy, to find myself, to be loved by others.
I want to believe in what others tell me. I want to believe in myself. I don't believe anyone.
Since traveling back East, my circadian rhythm has been pushed off kilter and I've stopped sleeping yet again. I'm trying to get myself back into a schedule, so that I can sleep in sync with the rest of the humans around me, but it's not the easiest thing to do.
Last night was worse night of insomnia that I've had since I left home. By the time 4 o'clock in the morning rolled by, I gave in and took an extra dose of sleeping medication to force myself into unconsciousness. As I stared at the ceiling, at least another half-hour rolled by before I drifted off.
I woke up several times in the night even under the influence of the double dose of the Lunesta. Every time I opened my eyes, I found myself surrounded in the sights and the smell of FM. I was hallucinating in my sleep and in the shallow skiff of brief unconsciousness, I dreamt of FM. These dreams last night felt so real, and I woke up several times in the night hyperventilating and sweating.
I had this same dream over and over again.
In each of these dreams last night, I asked FM to stop drinking and his roommate was making excuses for him. He simultaneously wanted me to simplify - to calm down, to stop wearing my intelligence on my sleeves. He said he knew he was destroying himself, but at least he was willing to admit it.
And he's right.
He pushed because I pushed. He said he loved though I couldn't. He was distant and so was I.
The worst thing is that I still care what he thinks. The guy is a jerk... and I still let him have power over me. He doesn't even know his legacy on my psyche.
There is a part of me that wants to contact him a couple of years to see where he is. There is a part of me that doesn't want to let him go, and I haven't - at least emotionally. In the fairytale land of movies and happy endings, I'm supposed to write a song and make everything better. I'm supposed to figure out how to reach in and help him, and simultaneously help myself. I'm supposed to be special. To lead. To take charge and take care of others.
I'm supposed to do what I think is right. I'm supposed to be brave.
And I am not any of those things. I am sapped of strength. I have been for a long time.
So why did I not wait? Why couldn't I wait? Why was I not strong enough? Can I be stronger if I just will it? And does it really matter anymore? There are appropriate times, and this no longer is that time. It isn't because I am not right for him, nor he for me. He isn't because he couldn't clean himself up. It isn't because I couldn't fix myself or be patient.
It isn't because the universe didn't sync up correctly.
I didn't want to be there to aide him through his transition - both because he wasn't ready and because he wasn't interested in adding more complication to my life. I threw him away.
I feel shallow and limited. I feel like a horrible person. I'm still beating myself up. I'm still second-guessing myself.
I'm still obsessing - silently. Privately. Regrettably.
This is the crux of my regret. I don't know what to say. I don't know what to feel besides emptiness and sadness. What do I fear? What might aide me through this besides just sucking up my leaking heart and trudging on? How do I set my fears aside?
We're on the long drive back to Eastern North Carolina from Asheville. I been along for this ride, and haven't paid much attention to where I was, other than being in a place in a moment. In my last two relationships, I was the one who spent a lot of time planning what we'd be doing and where... and now, I just don't care that much. It's nice to just let go and be somewhere, anywhere - without really having to make the plans or be responsible for what and where I'm going. Just send me the bill, I'll figure out what I'm doing as it happens. I don't want to make the plans.
So it came as a complete surprise to me when I realized that Asheville is less than two hours from where my biological father lives. There is a part of me that wants to go see him, just so that I can tell him that I turned out all right without him. That's it. No other agenda. I just want to tell him that his refusing to have contact with me these past 14 years is his loss, his fault - and that I'm not going to change for him or because of him. There is nothing that I owe him.
But, in that vein, I don't need to talk to him either. I don't owe him this little thing, this bit of either. I don't need to tell him anything. He took away so much, and then just disappeared from my life. For that I don't need to offer him, give him, or ask him anything.
He gave me nothing as a child other than fear and self-loathing. After I was fourteen, I never saw him again. I grew into adulthood without him. I went to college without him. I've been married without him in my life, and then I've been divorced without him. I've changed my life, attempted suicide twice, survived almost two decades of abuse and abandonment, came out of the closet, started a career, and am about ready to start over - all without him.
He wants nothing of me and he pretends as if I don't exist. The only thing that I have of his legacy is his insecurity. I however, self-depreciate while he rips and tears others around him. He is a hateful, spiteful, pitiful man. He is cruel and angry. He's driven his wife to drink and his 17 year old daughter to anti-psychotic drugs and a severe motivational disability. He has tossed his son aside.
Why do I want to say to him directly that I am doing all right? It's because I want to exorcise him from my life. I want to put the past behind me. I want to tell him that he's been an ass. I want him to feel some guilt. I want to stop feeling guilty, believing that I must have done something wrong to have driven him to this. I know intellectually that I did nothing wrong, but emotionally, I'm still jumbled - even after all of these years.
So why am I driven to talk to this man for whom I have so little regard? I pity him, and I'm angry at him. He has the ability to do such good in the world, and through all this time and even now he's so damned selfish. He's stomped on and shit on the people who loved him, and soon he's going to be a lonely, lonely old man who is bereft of any warmth and companionship. He's so close to being left completely alone.
And why do I care?
Because he's my father.
And even though he's tossed me aside like yesterday's newspaper, I don't need to do the same. I keep some small hope that perhaps maybe there is a glimmer of humanity left in him. Is there a shred of remorse? Are there still feelings that exist in his heart? How can I ever know unless I sit down with him one day and look into his eyes and say that I forgive him? Saying that will at the very least give me some closure and at the best, open the door to a whole new relationship. These scars can't be healed overnight, but they can heal. Even now they can heal. I am the son, but I am no longer a child. I can take the initiative and go force a meeting.
But I didn't and I won't any time soon. Why not? Because he is my father, and that really is his responsibility. I don't have to be the one in charge or the one fixing all the problems, perceived or real. I can learn to go with the flow, let the water in the stream putter as it may, and not try to forge new paths on my own. Perhaps later when I'm more confident, more put together. Not now though. The risk of not doing this now is that I may never get the chance. Who knows what may happen in the future, and who knows if I or he will ever get the chance to make things right. I have waited almost two decades, and I can wait awhile longer. There is no real hurry because I am not ready. He obviously isn't either. Until at least one of is inclined to take a step forward, we'll both be trapped in our mutual past.
The past two days I've been in Asheville, NC. Basically I got off the plane, my friends picked me up, and we picked up an additional friend (and I took a quick shower) then we drove across the state to the beautiful Grove Park Inn.
The grounds are beautiful and the Inn is remarkable. It really is a gorgeous building. Generally valued at over $400 to $700 a night, the enterprising friend found a discount for $99 at this five star hotel. Not bad. And with three out of four of us being educators, it's astounding.
Unfortunately though, it's not spectacular, and the reason is due to the fact that we toured the Biltmore Estate today. (I'd upload a picture but the ticket stubs I purchased [and doing so apparently signed my life away] to gain access to tour the estate expressly forbid using any picture for any purpose other than for solely personal. Sadly, this means that I can't show the pictures I took with my camera to others ever - but I can jack off on them. That, happily, wasn't directly expressly forbidden. Not that I'd do that, of course. Do click on the website or google it if you've never heard of the place. The pictures don't do it justice, it's awesome.) This place is beyond spectacular it's the summation of the American Dream, the American Corporate Enterprise, the American Delusion of Self-Grandeur (which in this case wasn't so deluded), the American Desire for Historical Relevance, and American Pompous Grandiosity all wrapped into one 3000 acre package.
It's that big.
And I'm no size queen. Seriously. It's huge.
Wow.
I don't usually blow smoke about such things because I'm only a mild amateurish architectural fan and a personal decor dunce. This place, however was richly designed and decorated in multiple styles and themes that can probably speak to just about anybody who has a passing interest in historical value, especially turn of the century American aristocratic culture. At this point, I have to pause and say that when describing the latter, I have no such qualifications.
In other news Reno has just been issued a blizzard warning, and there hasn't been such a weather advisory there for years. While I'm truly saddened that I'll miss the potential opportunity to miss out on a blackout in sub-zero temperature for untold hours, I have to say that North Carolina isn't all that much warmer right now. It's downright frigid here!
A woeful message, but this is apparently the crux of my problem.
It's been a long night, I've not slept for 23 hours, and I was browsing the web randomly searching desperately for entertainment as I tried to stay awake. This is one of the things I found. Sadly, it spoke to me.
I'm stuck at Chicago's O'Hare airport. I sat on a plane for eight hours (four hours overdue)and watched the New Year ring in from inside a plane on the tarmac after landing while being forced to sit. Now it's three in the morning (central time) and I'm wide awake and sitting on the floor in the airport overnight waiting for a flight out to Raleigh tomorrow at 7 o'clock in the morning.
Please don't let this be an omen symbolizing how this year will go!
I'm a gay man from Reno, Nevada who now lives in the Bay Area (hopefully soon to be San Francisco). I've been blogging for a couple of years but had taken a break from writing to clear my head. I've been in two relationships lasting over the past ten years, and I'm still trying to find my own way. I'm continuously on the path towards figuring out who I really am, what I want from life, and where I'm going. It has been a tough road, but the light is getting brighter.
This blog is a work in progress. For me, the work is to continuously find the productive parts of my life and my behavior, incorporate positive changes permanently into my life, and slough off the stuff that isn't so great. I've left a career path and the city I've lived in my entire adult life for love, and now am struggling to find work and a place to settle (a victim of the economy, as so many others are). Even so, I found that I'm generally quite capable on my own, but I am still human and fallable.
This blog is about gaining my confidence and owning my own life. It's about a small town gay man learning about himself in an urban city. It's about me.
This little corner is my personal space. Here I can chronicle my behavior, share my thoughts, and engage in my own conversation. Through this
medium, I can share what it is that I'm thinking as life unfolds before me. I do this so that I can look
back - and ultimately assess how I am really living.
WARNING: This collection of random thoughts can be explicit! Please be warned. Do not read the contents of this blog if it will offend you.
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