Home > Life or something like it > Entry 10/20/2006 09:07:50 PM – Mentat 300

Entry 10/20/2006 09:07:50 PM – Mentat 300

     How does one find hero among a people without heroes?  How does one find someone pure of heart among a people of average hearts?  How does one find someone living, among a people simply existing? 

     These weren’t the kind of questions that I had been asking myself last night — as I was sitting here going through something that had bothered me from a conversation I had with Joey, shortly after I had finished up and posted my last journal entry.  In fact, the kind of questions and the issues that it entailed dealt with me realizing just how much of a chicken-shit I had become because I simply didn’t want to deal with the word "no" when trying to proposition someone for a date.  Just how much I’m afraid of wanting to fall in love again for fear of dealing with more damage, more hurt, more heartache, and more abuse. 
     Yeah, Joey had propositioned me the other night, asking why it was that I usually totally ignored his flirting.  At first I had explained to him that I don’t flirt — and while that is mostly true — I had to further refine it into the plain and simple fact that I haven’t flirted since the time that Will had broken up with me since my birthday because I had been too heartbroken to want to try the attempt, and slowly working myself through depression and obsession for wanting to get Will back into my life.  Since then though… 
     Since then though, after seeing Will, and trying desperately to resolve the issues that didn’t get wholly resolved…  About finally learning the truth from Will’s mouth that it was time for me to move on, get my affairs in order, get over the obsession of wanting him back in my life in anything more than just friendship and something platonic, and moving on with my life.  I really haven’t had much desire to wanting to date, to flirt, to be happy-go-lucky or casual about dating and meeting men.  While it’s been no issue meeting people whom I’ve had positively no attraction or want/interest in getting to know intimately.  Sure there have been one or two people that I’ve found attractive and the thoughts of love, infatuation, lust, have crossed my mind following familiar patterns of warmth and heat — I’ve done positively nothing to pursue anyone since the disaster that happened this birthday. 

     As I had explained to Joey the other night when it came to wanting him back, or wanting to date has been out of my mind for some time now…  That I’ve been truly fortunate in that in my lifetime I’ve been truly blessed to have fallen in love truly, madly, deeply three times in my life and that in my selfishness, I really shouldn’t think that a fourth time is possible in my life…  The truth of the matter is that I’ve given up in my mind.  While my unconscious and ultimately my heart may not have given up quite yet — as I continue to have dreams of love, relationships, and of dating — the thinking portion of me wants to most of the time. 
     Then of course, as I sit here sort of bored and tired of listening to the folk online blathering on endlessly trying to get themselves hooked up or trying to see if they can get a cheap thrill out of someone nameless, a faceless wonder…  I decide to shut off most forms of online chat, pop in a movie like Hero into the DVD player, and quite surprisingly I’m left watching in wonder the tragic complexities of love, duty, honor, betrayal, a higher sense beyond the little self and wonder to myself as I watch the end credits — "Can I find something of the sort in my life?  Can I find people of such unparalleled simplicity and complexity that will leave me walking away for days at a time trying to fathom the depths of what they try to communicate to me?  And if so, can I do so without it being totally destroyed by the dysfunctions and damages that we’ve all experienced by living and counting ourselves fortunate because we continue to survive in a world that can damage the heart, and ultimately the mind?"

     I get moments of respite from my imprisonment in this purgatory between love and loneliness.  They’re strange little pauses which leave me feeling someplace between frustrated, longing, fighting the storms of desire to wanting to express myself in all my passionate glory, and simply trying to desperately understand what is going on underneath the veneer of shyness, quiet, and analytical observances.  It’s not as though I’m truly set free of a prison of my own construction, but instead like Hannibal Lecter staring at a male version Clarice Starling as he tries to figure out all the things I know, and incorporate them into the things he knows. 
     I sit here in utter amazement and wonder, talking to a man whom I had only met a month and a half ago, and only living 17 miles away from me I will speak more through AIM than getting together for a coffee, a bagel, and some chat in real time — entranced at the manner for which he sometimes goes out of his way to give me his itinerary as to what he’s going to be doing on the weekend, or what he’s struggling through in school at the moment — wondering whether my instincts on him being a virgin are on the mark.  On how can at his age, and being on the threshold of being truly independent as an adult, he can call himself "bachelor" without the desire of wanting a relationship like so many of us wanted when we were his age.  Or what it would be like for me not to have experienced love or the longing of a lost former boyfriend/lover…   That in itself is a quite a grey world — far greyer than the world that I currently experience. 
     Sometimes the temptation to admission about feeling attraction to Nick is overwhelming.  Sometimes it’s the desire to be rid of the weight and the yoke of feeling as though I’m holding some deep, dark secret that only I can see, feel and experience.  Sometimes it’s simply the desire to getting through the rejection so I can either move on, or return to the purgatory that is all too familiar to me.  Sometimes it’s even the slight glimmer of hope that it won’t be a no, but perhaps a maybe or even a yes.  But I don’t risk the change.  I stick to what is known because it’s a familiar road, with familiar scenery, and lacks the twists, the turns, the loops, and the dips that come from the unknown. 
     It’s no lie that I do my damndest to thoroughly torture myself in this purgatory.  The kind of torture that reminds me that I’m still a human being that has human needs.  The kind that tries it’s best to grant me the courage to work myself into saying something to the man, but instead leaves me either too afraid that I’m setting myself up for the fall, or reminded all too well, there’s another adult’s age creating a gap between myself and him. 

     *Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes*  The vision that tortures me sometimes starts with me at a coffee house in Providence.  Sitting there and writing something into my notebook about this or that.  Something I’ve observed, or something that just plain strikes me odd.  Nick comes up and lingers about the table, unsure whether he should sit down, or simply stand there nearby, asking a question about computers and websites, or about something that’s got him bothered from school.  Never something personal in public, least of all in an environment that he doesn’t know the variables, or of the people that might be listening in on the conversation.
      Wearing a pair of jeans…  Wearing some Red Sox hat that seems to cover his eyes and perhaps hide something that he can’t hide within his eyes…  Wearing one of his Yankee Racer shirt that always strikes me more as a badge of something he’s proud of, rather than an advertisement for the website that he owns and runs.  Five o’clock stubble at three in the afternoon…  Holding his lips someplace between a smile, and a contemplative grin.
     Sometimes the silence between questions and answers, and random sidetrack comments becomes that uncomfortable that comes from not sure which direction to go, whether there is a next direction to go, or simply to call it a day and head off in our own separate directions. 
     I smile one of my knowing smiles, and look at Nick in a way that makes any human being fidgety…  It’s the kind of look that I make that means I’m trying to screw my courage up, while giving people the impression that I’m looking through them and seeing something that they think is well hidden.  I stand up and give him a brief peck on the lips.  Nothing more than a hint and a promise of something more intimate someplace else. 
     The look on Nick’s face when I open my eyes after kissing him, one between boyish naïveté, and the surprise of something pleasantly anticipated.  And in that smile, within that vision, I forget for one moment, all the pain and hardship I went through the last six years. 
     Fast forward…  It’s a hotel room…  Where I’m currently living prevents me from bringing Nick to my place…  Nick’s living condition prevents the same.  I choose someplace I can afford, that’s moderately tasteful and has amenities in case of distraction…  Our clothes strewn in a direct path from the doorway to the bed…  Covers a mess, and just the sheet covering us.  The passion spanning several hours and ending a streak of several years of abstinence abated and satiated.  I could go into detail, but that’s not always my style.  Imagination works well, and I like using it and only sharing it with someone I’m intimate with. 
     It’s summer…  While not hot enough for me to have the air conditioning on, it’s warm enough for Nick to want it on.  So I oblige given that I know I’m naturally warmer than average.  It’s still sunlight out, as it’s later into the afternoon, and with it being summer, the sun setting more towards nine o’clock. 
     I feel Nick against me.  Warm.  Comforting.  There scent of the fabric softener that his clothes fading and the scent of his masculinity intoxicating.  His fingers intertwined with mine, as he lays beside me resting his head against my shoulder.  I smile a half-smile in response to the unrestrained grin he has on his face. 
     I move a little of his thick, black hair out of his eyes to take a look into his eyes.  I kiss him on his forehead and wish to myself for one moment things won’t change and that this moment could last a little bit longer.  I try not to ruin the moment with any over-analysis, bizarre deep thoughts of self-inspection or self-reflection, or unrealistic expectations.  I hope that Nick in this moment opens up a little more, realizing with that one smile that he has. 
     I close my eyes carefully listening to him breathing next to me, and for one moment, I feel as though his pulse and my pulse match up and synchronize before I doze and visit the other muses that oftentimes come to visit in my sleep… 

     Well…  it’s time for me to return to my purgatory and the torment of dreams that my heart’s telling me that I shouldn’t give up.  Until the next time… 
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