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I Lose Again I'm in rehearsal, and I should really be focusing on playing for the girls as they're doing choreography, but I really need to work through this, for some reason, and this seems like a pretty alright forum in which to do it. For someone who has as much sex as I do, I'm awfully hung-up about how and when and where and with whom other people do it. Despite the bewildering number of people who are inclined to believe otherwise, Patrick is NOT my boyfriend. In crossing the Green while New Haven Pride was happening on Saturday afternoon, I was accosted by a parishioner who said, "Oh, I saw your boyfriend -- I mean, he IS your boyfriend, isn't he?" to which I replied, "No, actually, he isn't." "Um, why isn't he?" was the predictable response, and I had to say, "No, we're just very good friends." And usually, no, honestly, I'm happy with that. I don't think of him in sexual terms. We've been there, we've done that, and yes, it was nice, but I don't really feel the need to revisit it just now. Yes, I'd like to at some point, but typically, I'd really rather just snuggle with him. Not that we do that, either, as he's quite reserved when it comes to physical contact. He's quite reserved, in general, actually. There is always, and we never ever address it, a tension between us on parting, though. It's a feeling like there's something being actively unspoken, undone -- no kiss, no hug, no "I love you." He calls me every day. He buys me huge packets of decongestants. He buys me books on resume-writing. He held my hand in my car on the way home from an orgy. He tries to convice me not to leave town. And yes, I love him. He's gorgeous, he's wonderful company, he's quite smart, he's obviously very sweet, he's good in bed, he's financially stable, he's gainfully employed, he's responsible and disinclined towards rampant partying, alcoholism, drug abuse, and all the other things I hate about many gay men. So what's the problem? 1) I'm leaving this town if it kills me; I know that my life is not here. He, however, owns a house here, likes his new job, and will be staying for awhile. 2) He has issues with physical intimacy, and I like to demonstrate my affection for people I love, at least in private. 3) I like sex, and a lot of it; it's not that important to him. 4) Regardless of point 3, when in relationships, I am mostly inclined to monogamy. Despite his frequent periods of celibacy, he doesn't want to be tied down to one person. (That doesn't really bother me as, much as I like the IDEA of monogamy, I definitely have a roving eye, and I think were it properly negotiated, this would not need to be an issue.) 5) He doesn't bottom, and I have no desire to date an exclusive top, particularly one whom I'd really like to fuck. 6) He wants to father a child around the time he's 35, which is next year; I'm not quite ready to be a part of that just yet. 7) He's just not interested. But he persists in trying to convince me to stay here, as though he were. And I can't talk to him now, 'cause I don't need the fucking confusion. And I was SO TOTALLY OVER THIS! But his cute 21-year-old blond blue-eyed Italian bottom-boy ex is in town. Has been since Thursday. He's staying with him. Doubtless in the same bed and bedroom. Patrick paid for his airfare out for the week-plus-long visit. I am enraged, because no one has ever cared enough about me to do that. Also, I resent the age difference. I've been present (but pretending not to be there) while he was having a webcam + sound conversation with the boy and his friends, and Patrick's description of him as "a bit childish" seems spot-on. He's 21. He was 19 when they were dating. Thirteen years. Fucking ridiculous when those are the ages, in my opinion. On Friday night, I was tied up in rehearsal 'til 9.30, after which I went back to the office 'til about half past midnight. Saturday, he called while I was in rehearsal. I attempted to meet them, but they'd already gone, or we just didn't cross paths. Last night, he asked if I wanted to come watchQueer as Folk, but I, partly out of spite for the failed meeting the day before, said no, I was going to watch with Mitch and others. (I DID need to make a social gesture after my nearly month-long boycott. Do not piss me off, yo; it will become as though you never existed in my world, and it won't require much effort from me.) So he IM'ed me this morning to ask how it was. I answered. I asked how his night in with boy was. He said more than night, entire day, which I'd known, because he wasn't at mass in the morning, though since the services have been switched to 10 a.m. from 11, I've ceased even looking for him in the congregation. It did not, however, occur to me that they'd be spending the day together in bed. And I don't know that they did, but Patrick frequently has told me the boy just couldn't get enough sex, and he did say that they spent the day and night lying around and confirmed when I asked if he was still "resisting" that indeed, he was not. I don't know what they've done, but I'm sure it's nothing they haven't done before, and probably nothing I haven't done with him before, and I don't know why it bothers me. I knew it was going to happen. It was only a matter of time. It's not the sex; it's once again the perception that I'm being denied something. The familiarity. I resent it. Perhaps I'm threatened by it. But you know what? It really comes down to the same thing as always. Say what you mean; do what you say. Don't go clinging to some absurd ideal of celibacy and refusing to open yourself up and really get involved with someone (or anyone) and then insinuate all the time that you wish I wouldn't go, but refuse to give me any reason to stay and go fuck your supposedly infantile ex while refusing to so much as hug me most of the time! You HAD your chance, motherfucker, and you fucking blew it. You WERE the last chance. Don't fuck with me. Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You Fuck You!!!!! I fucking deserve better. Okay, so yeah, I thought I was over it, and no, it doesn't feel the same as it did when we first met back in October, but yeah, I do love you, and you love me, too, and since you don't want to deal with it, I can't deal with it, so I want nothing to do with you for awhile. That's all. And I feel really immature and stupid, but I'm fucking tired of hurting. r
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