Life is alright.
This blog probably reads like I spend my days obsessing over lost love. Maybe because I always write about it when I get in those moods. Also, I think that’s pretty much all I’ve posted on here.
I’ve spent the last five years or so waking up with my mind screaming her name. I would really like that to stop.
Also, when very young, I would have dreams about this girl that I understood to be my girlfriend. KAE matched her every detail. They even had the same name. This resulted in speculation that I simply dreamed her into existence. That leads to all sorts of philosophical musing/fears of schizophrenia/ identity crises.
That is all.
There was a time when I was having a lot of sex, then, against my wishes, no sex at all. That lasted a few years, and then I had sex with a few people. These encounters largely felt debasing and wrong, so I stopped them and made a conscious decision to stay away from dating and sex until I was in a place where I really wanted to find a partner. I’m not sure that’s ever going to happen. I’m often lonely, but I’m still far too bitter about the past. It’s been more than five years and I still can’t comprehend the idea of being in a committed relationship. I think it’s a sham.
But I would really like to have sex already.
That brings to mind something else. It is so rare that I meet someone that I find attractive. I find myself thinking, “Oh, she’s pretty/gorgeous/plain/odd looking,” but no attraction forms. When I do, I get very weird and can’t talk to the other person. I’ve grown incapable of conscious flirting. I do it on accident (and realize it later) very often, though. Just never with a woman I’m interested in.
I have to go to work, but yeah. Relationships seem stupid. I can’t see myself having casual sex. There are women I could see myself have an ongoing thing with, but it wouldn’t really fit either of those categories. It would be weird. I am weird.
I was explaining to a coworker that I don’t believe in gender as a concrete thing. The conversation began when she said something I found offensive and I explained that to her.
What I’m pretty sure they heard (based on their reaction and how they started treating me”:
“Hi, I’m Bryan, and I’m a homosexual.”
She wasn’t mean or anything, she just clearly thinks that I am into guys.
My sexual identity is not something that I generally discuss with any but a select few people. It isn’t that I’m shy about it; if asked a direct question, I’ll answer truthfully. I just don’t think it’s something of consequence. Whether I’m attracted to women, men, any combination thereof or in-between, has no bearing on my humanity or my ability to function as a member of society.
Anyhow (for the most part) I’ve been celibate for five years. It’s probably a good thing.
I didn’t start this blog to rant about my problems or the realizations I’ve been having about where the problems came from.
I’ve been feeling better than I have in a long time. Yeah, I’m sad sometimes, and I am in a ridiculous amount of pain whenever the weather shifts or I’m on my feet for too long, but it’s all getting better.
I’m working on some silly little drawings that I hope to sell for a few bucks each. I’ll try and post a few of them in the coming days.
I haven’t been doing a lot of thinking lately. It’s been nice, but it has to end. I’m not at my best when I’m not making a point to reflect regularly. I get crazy spacey.
I sort of know what I’m doing for the first time in a while. It’s still going to take time, but at least there’s an attainable goal on the table.
I was sixteen and my feelings for two girls were the most confusing things I had ever had to approach.
The first I have mentioned before and will undoubtedly mention again. She was gorgeous, and talented, and we had bonded over children’s literature and crappy upbringings. I had known her for several years, and for the first time in my life, I loved someone that I felt loved me in return. It terrified me. Alien emotions will do that.
That second girl is what made things confusing. Again, she was gorgeous, and talented, loved to read. She was smart. Like, really smart. The first girl wasn’t stupid-don’t get me wrong-she just wasn’t spectacularly intelligent. We weren’t especially close at the time, but I fell a little bit in love with her. The way I felt about her was unique. The love wasn’t really romantic, or platonic, or familial. I confused it for romance, though, and called things off with One due to guilt. A mutual friend informed Two of my feelings because I was young, and timid, and a bit of a coward. She did not feel the same and told me so with a long hug after school. We remained (and do remain) good friends.
It was Two that convinced me, some months later, to resume my relationship with One. Neither of us knew that One would eventually undo me. How could we?
Anyhow, I’m writing this because of a realization I had recently concerning my interactions with people. Sometime after it became clear that Two and I were not meant to have a romantic relationship, she wrote a note in a sketchbook I had. She wondered why my hugs felt different, if it depended on the situation.
I didn’t feel any differently towards her. I still thought she was one of the greatest people on the planet. I still do, but apparently something had changed.
The point is, I used to hug people. A lot. Close friends would get lingering hugs and maybe a kiss on the cheek. I don’t do that anymore.
I spent a great deal of time trying to recall when that shifted, and it kept coming down to when One left. I just stopped that kind of contact. My primary form of physical contact with other people is a high five.
High fives are awesome, but It concerns me that I shifted because I don’t really know why. Was it painful for me to have any prolonged contact with another person? Was it just that I only wanted that from one person?
I won’t ever know. The ‘why?’ doesn’t really matter. It has been a long time since I held any body but a child in my arms for more that two seconds. No embraces of friendship or romance.
Even my few sexual encounters were incredibly impersonal. There was no kissing. There was no holding, before or after. It was fuck and run. Which makes me feel dirty to think about.
Today, I don’t need that person to hold. I think it would be nice to find someone to share those strong, romantic feelings with, but I don’t need it. I’m not even sure I want it.