I am in Cincinnati, Ohio. It is just below freezing. I am on the living room couch while C is sleeping in the other room.
C is a woman I have discussed on here before.
I met her when I first moved to Tulsa. A lot of very intense sex at the beginning turned into a lot of intense emotions. I couldn't handle it at the time, so I pulled away. But not completely.
Let's just be friends, I suggested. Like Jerry and Elaine. I felt at the time that I could do emotional intimacy or physical intimacy but couldn't handle both together. Looking back, I don't think I could really handle either. I was buried under the weight of antidepressants and roommate conflict and all the existential dread.
I also hated feeling caught up in the same loop where every sexual relationship I had saw the same problems as the last and ended up the same way. I wanted to break free from that, and so wisely, I think, I took some time to be celibate.
I explored my inner-workings more. Worked through some trauma, learned about my attachment styles, realized that I am neurodivergent and view the world in such a way that it is hard for me to follow the normal scripts for love and dating and really most human interactions. Importantly, I learned that I am not "bad" for being different. That there is nothing to change. That I am beautiful and wonderful as I am. Just often misunderstood.
But still, I have real issues with attachment. Specifically my issue is people becoming attached to me. I don't know why exactly, but it can feel overwhelming. It creates in me a sense of obligation and expectation that is hard to shake. It also messes with the narrative in my mind of how I see myself. It gives me a feeling of power that I don't want.
There is a woman who has written to me almost every day for the last five years. Sometimes several thousand words at a time. She has introduced herself and become friends with my mom and sister-in-law, they talk on the phone and share recipes. My mom suggests I marry her every single time we talk. And every single time I adamantly state that I have zero interest. I told my mom once that "I want a partner, not a geisha" in response to this woman's perfect submissive wife routine.
I have asked her to stop writing so much and have repeatedly told her that I am not interested in dating her, but each time there is this gas-lighting reaction of "what? I'm not interested in you in that way. We're just friends. Friends can't write each other? Friends can't do nice things for each other?" And my mom and sister-in-law defend her saying that she's just being sweet and caring and what's so wrong with that?
So I feel guilty and worn down and keep letting her do things for me even though it makes me uncomfortable.
And I know there are at least a couple of women who tell me they think of me all the time, who possess articles of my clothing that they smell regularly. I don't know how to respond to that. I'm not used to being thought of as sexy or desirable. It is really a new development (or my awareness of it is new, at least). Part of me wants to lean in and enjoy it. But I also feel responsible for these peoples feelings and don't want to hurt them. Don't want to use them or lead them on or allow them to believe that there is more here than there is.
And maybe a lot of this is still purity culture stuff. The things I was raised to believe about sex and desire runs deep and has been very hard to uproot. My body and brain remain embroiled in conflict and tension that has to be at least a part of why I get so overwhelmed with physical connection. I am starting to recognize that I almost always feel shame after sex. And I think I interpret that feeling of shame through my partner's perception of me. Those internal feelings of feeling dirty and sinful and inadequate are seen through my eyes as my partner wanting more of me than I can deliver or that they "like me too much."
Because how could anyone like anyone as dirty and depraved as myself?
All of that to say that this has been the background noise of my relationship with C. Who agreed to no sex with me though it made her feel rejected and unwanted. Who remained my friend even though she would often cry after I left her house because she wanted more.
My first week traveling was with her. We came here to Cincinnati so that she could see if she liked it enough to move here. The first few days were awkward sharing a bed and all of our time together. There was a palpable sexual tension. One that erupted on our third night together. In my van in a pitch black night in a forest. Then again every day for the rest of our ten day trip.
Then three weeks apart before I left my van in Tulsa and drove her moving truck to the apartment where I am now sitting. Where I have spent a week playing the part of boyfriend, assembling Ikea furniture and moving heavy things.
And I know that she is waking up now. I know that she is naked in bed. I know that here in a sentence or two, I am going to join her. And I will run my lips along the curves of her body. And we will delight in the pleasures we create for each other.
And I know I will likely feel shame afterwards. That I will retreat into myself.
I will still not know what to do about any of these feelings. Neither hers nor mine. I do not know how I will feel when soon I am on the road again, seeking out some spiritual quest to the neglect of what physically surrounds me now. I don't know how to be a boyfriend when I am only truly comfortable in solitude.
It's like I feel cold but also can't stand to be anywhere close to the fire.
Is it possible to connect with someone without hurting them or destroying yourself in the process?
Hasn't seemed like it so far, but I return to her bed with hope.
8:31 a.m. - 2021-11-20
Recent entries:
Another day wasted, another day of growth - 2022-01-06
In a Basement on an air mattress, freshly showered - 2021-12-20
A Pattern, A Purpose (so sorry all my entries have been so long lately) - 2021-12-10
Three Weeks a Boyfriend - 2021-12-06
Turkey Day - 2021-11-25
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