Friday, July 31, 2009

Give a little love...

Tired, as per usual.

Tuesday, C went out to kareoke with friends. I stayed in. My cousin's baby was born.
Wednesday, we went out to dinner with another set of friends.
Yesterday, I had dinner with VG and drove around a different set of friends, looking for that all-hallowed bar where we would sit and I would not drink.
Tonight, a concert.
Tomorrow, a date, a wedding, and a night spent with GV8.
Sunday, breakfast with GV8, then shacking up somewhere in Hollywood to write and study.

I know I'm forgetting something. I need to talk to my sister.

Let's break this down a little further.

I don't remember much of Tuesday. I was exhausted. I can't remember if what usually happens, happened: a phone call at 1030 from someone I want to talk to. That always happens when I try to go to bed before 9.

I remember lacing up C's corset. I remember being so tired. I remember reading in bed, and C cooking me chicken. That's all I remember. Just flashes of that.

Wednesday, I picked C and her new interest, Redwing, up, before heading out to dinner. I was picking Redwing's brain for writing ideas, for what I write. For how to write, because I've never taken any input or classes, or been to any conferences. I don't know the "official" process. My writing, it's how I talk. Truly, the way I break my paragraphs, the excess of commas, it's where I space things. People are always startled when they meet me after reading my stuff for so long, to find that the voice in their head matches the voice I speak with.

We drove to the place, a little diner-type out in Los Feliz area.

The man I wrote of last week, the one that I was interested in so briefly, but then I realized that there was no point because he's not my kind, well, he was there. I think I'm going to call him Ev.

Prolonged eyecontact, conversations, me making sure that I was engaging everyone, and if I felt excluded from a conversation, I would simply join another one, much to his surprise. It worked out, and I continued to feel his awareness of me.

He asked for my blog, he wanted to read it.

I gave him the information for the other one, the public one.

He emailed me through it, to ask me out.

Well, technically, he did not ask me out on a date. He's polyamorous. I find this nice because poly people tend to be more aware and accepting of not-so-mainstream sexualities. So even though I'm monogamous, my sexuality and how I deal with it, allows me access. So he emailed me to tell me that, while his relationship card was full, he has been craving some variety in his sex life and he found me desirable, and would I like to meet up and become a periodic sex partner?

That's pretty damn perfect for me. An intelligent, attractive man who keeps healthy and honest communication with his established partners, who is dominant in bed and tends to head his social group? Sure, I can work with that.

So we're supposed to be going out this weekend. Tomorrow, in all likelihood.

Anyhow, I've stepped into future plans as opposed to the things that have happened, things I need to mull over.

Crosser showed up to dinner as well. C wanted to talk to him, so they left early, leaving me with Redwing. That was cool with me, because I wanted to pick his brain. I was looking forward to the drive back, comparing notes and ideas with this man.

That's totally not what happened.

It was sex. Sex sex sex sex. And I don't mind that, really. I'm used to it. What drove me absolutely up the wall is that he would ask me a question (after prefacing it with whatever he felt needed to be said) and as I started answering it, he would cut me off mid-sentence and start talking about himself.

The entire freaking drive.

It was... insane. Because he talks so fast. And it was constantly, "Well, how do you feel about..?" and I would go, "Well, in my experience, I [insert something here] and-" and suddenly he'd swoop in, "Oh, I know! This one time...!"

So I stopped answering his questions and just let him talk. And talk. And we hit construction, so this drive turned into a forty-minute hell-fest of me going, "Holy shit, this kid cannot read my body language to save his life."

I even stopped listening. I rarely do that. But it was just this full-bore, all-engines-go verbal barrage of "me me me me me" which wouldn't bother me at all, except for the occasional "and you? oh, wait, nevermind, me me me me". Don't engage me and ask me my opinion on something if you aren't going to bother listening. I mean, I actually like listening to people tell me about their sexlife, but he made it this nightmareish chore that I hope to never experience again.

And then we get off the freeway and he says to me, "So, how do you see me?"

...Jesus Christ. WAI OH GOD WAI?!

I tried to put it off. I did. I tried to distract him into talking about himself again. It worked. Unfortunately, C lives ten minutes off the freeway, so by the time we pulled up to her house, he was worrying me like a dog worries a bone.

So I told him I thought he was young. I told him he carried himself and spoke like he had missed a crucial element in socialization. That he was years behind where he should be, for his age, for dealing with people, and that he continually made unnatural affectations when he spoke that were all too obvious and he seemed altogether uncomfortable with how he presented himself and how he felt about himself in general.

And he totally agreed with me. And seemed a bit shocked.

...but he continued the conversation into the house, while I gathered my night clothing pre-shower, and then I shoved him onto C and told her to back me up.

Which she did, while I showered.

Writing about that all is actually starting to give me a headache. Geesh.

Thursday night was not that interesting. I had dinner with VG, then walked in on C gluing feather's to some guy's back with latex. I had forgotten she was doing this. But he's an art model and, for whatever reason, the artist wanted little black wings on him, and C volunteered to apply them. I left them as I found them, went out to meet up with some other people.

The first bar we went to was closed.
The second was dead. Wow it was dead.

So I left.

But C mentioned that she had been planning on sleeping with Redwing that night, so I texted her to let her know I was on my way back early.

Actually, what happened was, when I got back to C's place and she was gluing on this guy's wings, I asked her if she was coming out with me and the others.

She said no, that she wanted to bone.
So I pointed at the guy with my cellphone and said, "Him?"
And she said no, "Redwing."
And I said, "If I walk in on you two having sex, I will slap the ass of whoever is on top, I tell you now."

So I politely texted her I was coming back, to which I received:

"go away"

I told her to wait five minutes and I would crash on the couch in the livingroom.

I did not, however, tell her to be clothed. So I walked in on her and Redwing naked and entwined in bed, both asses in places where I could not smack them.

We talked while I changed, and then I dragged myself to the livingroom and passed out.

Actually, while I was driving to C's last night, GV8 texted me.

I have this rule, where I keep an even text-exchange going. So if I'm the last to text a man I'm interested in or sleeping with, I will not initiate again unless I need to relay information to him. This works with GV8 very well, I have to say. I know he finds it odd when I don't message him often.

So he texted me, checking on me, seeing what I was up to, telling me about how construction is going on the loft (glass walls were put up yesterday, apparently). His birthday is on Saturday, so I asked him if he had made plans. No, he hadn't. Too busy. Did he want me to come over and help him relax on Saturday night?

Yes, he very much would.

And, apparently, I'm wonderful.

I'm beginning to wonder if he hasn't gotten as far from me as I thought.

I don't push boundaries. If someone says they don't want to be with me, I say "okay" and I leave. I don't argue. I don't try to convince them otherwise. I don't flaunt new lovers in front of them. If they've made up their mind, I'll respect it... even if I feel that they secretly wanted me to fight for them.

I'm not going to.

That's not my style.

And I also assume that everyone that has casual sex, like I do, has my robot-like tendencies when it comes to emotion and design. I did not expect GV8 to continue to have feelings for me... but he might.

Which means I can sit him down and talk to him, talk to him about what doug1 said in some comments, which I think might be more accurate than he's willing to admit.

But I don't want a relationship.

GV8 is great. He is. He makes me feel completely safe, which is something that no man, including Rick, has ever been able to do. And maybe I'll never find that again. He's a wonderful guy, a great lover, someone who shapes reality into what he wants it to be. And I admire that. He has his own beasts, though they're not like mine.

But... no. I can't. I shouldn't. I'm not ready to give this life up.

And this might all be pointless anyway.

I'm reading him off of texts, and while words... words are what makes me... I won't know until I see him in person. We haven't seen each other in weeks because he's been so busy with his business and construction.

And I'm not so sure I can be with a guy that doesn't know himself when it comes to relationships. He's happy and willing to communicate, and he's honest, but he's not completely aware of where he is, of what he's doing, when it comes to me. He's certainly better than most, don't get me wrong.

...he is better than most.

I'm not going to do this to myself. I cannot give up my focus. I am not going to actively attempt to change his mind, nor am I going to read him and subtly engineer my actions to keep him.

I think.

God, I'm too tired to be thinking about this stuff.

As amazing as he is, we don't resonate. We don't sync. I did not see him and absolutely know him, like I've done with others. He could take care of me. He could protect me. I could be his princess, his toy.

And I'd be happy.

I'm only experiencing this doubt because I'm tired. If I wasn't so ready to pass out, I'd be fine and not even considering it.

Not to mention, I could easily be reading into him.

I'm not going to plan ahead. I'm not going to daydream and make up stories.

I'm going to focus on me, on my writing, on school. I'm going to enjoy him, as well as my other partners and future partners. I'm not going to get distracted again. I've been single for one year, and I plan on being single for another.

I'm not going to let my heart get tangled up in this.

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