Saturday, November 7, 2009

Sitting in my bed at home.

First time I've been here in almost two weeks. Home.

Laundry is running downstairs, thirty minutes to go before I can stagger down and shove it over into another electric metal box.

Body is sore.

Not muscle sore. Gods, I wish it was muscle sore. I wish I had the energy or the health right now to hop on the treadmill or pick a direction and go, but I think that would be the last straw for this sack of flesh and I'd likely down myself for the weekend, if not longer.

Went to see the Elephant Engine High Dive Revival Tour last night. Amazing, amazing poets. Bought three books, got them all signed. Went with the waitress from the restaurant, the red head. She's so wonderful to watch, so social, so confident. I love seeing her engage with people, without fear, without issue, walking up and getting to know them with the thought in her head that everyone has a fascinating story to tell and you just have to get them to smile and share it.

Which I agree with. It's just that my spirit animal is a bookworm.

True story.

I know I do this, but it was still interesting to watch myself switch into the behavior pattern again. When I'm out by myself, or out with someone less outgoing than I can be, I take over. I shift into social butterfly mode, become very extroverted, start working the room, the group, whatever it is, I'm on it. But if someone is naturally more outgoing than I am, I downshift. I become more mellow, more withdrawn.

Insecurity? Yes.
Knowing the principles of rarity and attraction? Yes.
Wondering what would happen if I kept my socializing level as high as my waitress friend did, how the two of us would work together with our blue eyes, her hair red, mine black, and our shared knowledge..? That could be fantastic. Conquering worlds.

But then, last night, the lack of sleep (yes, hello, eleven to twelve hour workdays, how are you?) and the emotional exhaustion from dealing with GV8 left me fried and withdrawn.

On the positive side, Hardwood Floors was at the show as well. Haven't seen him since February. He had put on muscle, let his hair grow out a bit. Still incredibly handsome.

His facial structure, though, stands out more when his head is shaved. Makes him look like a storm is under his skin, waiting to escape from his mouth.

Which it does, in his writing and poetry.

I used to hold him in such high regard as a lover, as a desirable (to sleep with, not to date) partner. He made my breath catch, and his words, his writing that was what continued to hold sway over me... I could simply read over and over again his emails, his poems. Beautiful.

He lost his shine.

He was still attractive. He was still hard and warm as we pressed up against each other in a hug and he sat next to me on the pew, his arm snaking around my shoulders like it has not been nine months since we last rolled around on the mattress on the floor of his apartment.

But... he wasn't... enough... anymore.

His words, his scent, his touch, barely penetrated. His rhythm, our shared motions that synched together, two hearts beating through sex, that was glorious.

But he didn't move me. I was stone, and he was not enough.

Because I had someone to compare him to, someone better. Someone who moved my bar too high, asking the men around me to prepare themselves for the polevault instead of the highjump.

Sex remains sex. Sex remains the route that will lead not to my heart, not to my head, but simply through me, like a tunnel. Without impact, just the echoes of words and winds as I allow access and they pay their toll.

I was talking with the Bassist yesterday, about my concern that I panicked with GV8, that I reacted poorly and that, with enough exposure (and pain), I could learn to have an open relationship.

And he reminded me that I have set goals. And he asked me if I had always had that one-man-one-woman dream.

Yes, yes, I did.

That ultimate partnership.

It's not the romance I seek, though I enjoy it.

It's the working together, becoming better together, striving towards being the best, experiencing the world, building a future, becoming four pairs of hands connected to one mind. Being beautiful and unstoppable, complimentary. Setting goals and knocking them down.


No interruptions, no outside taint or influence.

Having someone to serve without ever making myself less.

I also am coming to realize that the Bassist doesn't make me feel good about myself a good chunk of the time. It's not that he's insulting, it's that he's unacknowledging. We email back and forth during the day and I'll share with him something that I find important, and he'll ignore it. He looks at about half the things I send him (links, music, etc). Last night, I took the waitress to his show, per his request as he has been lusting after her since I introduced them, and once I let him know that she was there, he essentially ignored me for most of the rest of the evening, did not even bother to hug me goodbye.

Which left me sitting there going, "Hey, I just brought this amazing and beautiful chick to your show so you could impress her with your bass-skills and band membership and possibly get her number and ask her out and you can't be bothered to give me a hug before I take off? Did you really just do that??"

I was annoyed and hurt. Also, wondering if I should even bother with having someone in my life that is so unaware and unconcerned. Probably not. If I did not love his band so much, I'd likely just wave goodbye in his general direction and exit stage left.

Unfortunately, doing so would make attending future concerts awkward.

I also spoke with the Waitress (capitalized now) about... her. About how comfortable she is in her own skin, how much men just gravitate towards her, about my recently ended relationship and how incredibly emo I've been.

She told me she is constantly emo. She always says yes when guys ask her out, no matter how disinterested she is, because she does not want to say no, because she's so easygoing. Gets stuck in these relationships with men she has no feelings for, finally has to end it, feels bad. That, since she started dating, she has not been single for more than a month (except once, where she reached two months) because of rebounds and being unable to say no.

It was... grounding for me.

I see these amazing people who are all shiny lights, who seem to be able to do anything, who have no fears or social anxieties, who know all the steps to all the games and drift through crowds without thought.

I look so highly on them, that they don't have to work at it. That they're naturally socially gifted. Wish I was like that. They seem so desirable, so intelligent, so perfect. I end up putting them on this mental pedestal where they end up (in my head) being amazing at everything. No chance of failure.

I cease to see them as human and with flaws.

You think I would learn by now that we all have flaws. We all have weaknesses.

I know, with my other blog, with the mini-fan base, and the emails with people telling me how amazing, strong, beautiful, vibrant, confident, whatever, insert-complimentary-adjective-here-that-I-don't-actually-see-in-myself-and-oh-god-using-the-hyphen-key-is-damn-annoying-and-I'm-going-to-stop-now, and I always email them back that, basically, they need to not idealize me, that I'm human and weak and I've got a shit-ton of issues that I need to work with/through and they're likely way cooler (or other adjective) than I am.

Sometimes I meet up with some of the emailers, the ones that live in this area, to show them that I am human and incredibly flawed... but it takes so much time for me to get them to relax, to calm, to see me that way. And it never really takes hold.

So I forget that others, the people I want to be more like, are human as well. And that they all have these backstories, these histories that effect them, that make them ashamed or regretful, that life isn't always easy and they have the scars we all have.

She reminded me of that.

She also called me amazing, which made my night. Silly, but true.

Went home, passed out, woke up, didn't bother to shower, and drove to help a friend I haven't seen in years pack up her recently passed mother's apartment. She was all kinds of wrecked.

It's hard to do that.

There's so much stuff. Food in the refrigerator that will not be consumed by the person who purchased it. Spices, dishware for holidays, antique cookware, old photos, stacks of books... what are you going to do with the bones of a life has left?

Box it up, load it into a van, the remainders, the reminders. Disperse among your relatives and friends, eating away at the sheer number of items that have amassed. Wondering what you need five ladles for, if you'll ever want that oversized cutting board, and if you can bear to give away the comforter that still smells like her, knowing that if you keep it that, one day, it will no longer smell like her, but like you.

Time to live.


  1. Beautiful ending to this post. Yes, it is time to live. I tell myself that every day when I wake up.

    I have the same problem your Waitress friend does, the inability to say no.

    I quite like your blog.

  2. You may be the primary lover of a man like GV8, but you will never be his only lover. The men you admire and respect will never be monogamous. Would the kings of old have limited themselves to just one woman, no matter how exceptional?

    What you can aspire to is to go through time with someone, to be bonded through more & more shared experiences and memories so that the two of you are together forever, or as close as you can come to that in this world.

  3. Lindsay, wow, thank you. I've been a lurker of yours for a bit now. Saying no seems to be a problem for many of my female friends. I have (long and rambling) theories on that.

    John Galt, the reasons I respect men are not things such as their money, their pedigree, or their woman juggling abilities, but their strength, survivability, and self-control. These things are not related to their sexual philosophy.

    I could go through time with someone who would step away from me when he felt the urge to sleep with another, but I do not wish to do so. If I give all, I want them to give all... to me. Not most to me and the rest to other women. I can share experiences and memories with any person, bonding happens through disclosure and shared activities, which happens when any two people get placed in each other's company for significant lengths of time. It's a matter of picking that person and knowing that our values mesh.

  4. I'll be your Huckleberry.... or your Yogi... or Fred Flintstone and so many other Hanna Barbara characters.... Grape Ape is a better example....

  5. "strength, survivability, and self-control. These things are not related to their sexual philosophy."

    Yes they are. Ask Roissy.

  6. eventful days indeed. would you have it any other way?

  7. I could go through time with somewone who would step away from me when he felt the urge to sleep with another, but I do not wish to do so.

    ..could not want to..

    Not Alpha.

    You can't escape your nature.


  8. Savage,

    I am not up on what company owns what characters, but can you be my Space Ghost instead? I mean, it sounds like you go Coast to Coast...

    Oh, I'm that lame. Yes I am.

    Mr. Galt,

    There's a lot to address in such a simple statement. What Roissy does is amazing. I would feel honored if someone put that much work into messing with my head.

    But strength, survivability, self-control? Hardly. Those are not adjectives I associate with his philosophy and writing. I'm sure the gods of pick-up will come down and smite me for this, but Roissy is a puppy. He's a puppy with a lot of game and a lot of intelligence, better than most, possibly cream of the crop, but he seems stuck in a very narrow worldview that he won't exit. If that's because his followers expect that or if he really is a one-trick pony, I don't know.

    What he does... it doesn't require strength. It does not display strength. It doesn't require survivability, not in the way I value it. As for self-control... that's not a descriptor I associate with PUAs. Not saying they're lacking self-control, just saying that word wouldn't even enter my head when describing the philosophy and the community to another.


    No, I wouldn't. This coming weekend is even shaping up to be fairly intense. I can't wait to see what it brings.


    Elaborate? On the whole comment, if you would. Too vaguely worded for me be to certain as what you mean.

  9. Space Ghost is still Hanna Barbera. I wish I did go coast to coast. For now I just go.. umm coast... If I went to the West Coast I'd have a likelier chance of taking you out for coffee....

  10. "What Roissy does is amazing... But strength, survivability, self-control? "

    I wasn't implying that Roissy exhibits those three qualities. By the way, he is not primarily a pick-up artist, but rather a socially talented, intellectually brilliant individual who enjoys fucking with people by telling them the truth. Here, the truth is that your three S's are closely associated with a fourth: status.

    The king is archetype of a high status man. No matter what term(s) you use to label or define him, judging from your description of the way he lives his life, a man like GV8 is a king among men.

    And every king has a harem.

  11. Okay, I see the status connection.

    But GV8, aside from his lifestyle, is a "king" because he chooses to be one, not because it was bestowed on him. That makes a difference to me. His behavior makes him a king, not the other way around.

    If every king has his harem, that's fine. So I was his top harem girl with potential of being his "queen", as long as I accepted his continued harem-attendance.

    There are some sacrifices I am not willing to make. Sure, I lost a crown. I still have his friendship and his respect.

    What's more important?

  12. It makes sense that you broke it off. I just don't see how you're going to find happiness either way now.

    "...[H]e didn't move me. I was stone, and he was not enough. Because I had someone to compare him to, someone better. Someone who moved my bar too high, asking the men around me to prepare themselves for the polevault instead of the highjump."

    You still have that one-man-one-woman dream, and the men who raise the bar to such extreme heights and leap them in a single bound... have more than one woman.