Augh

Kevin

Went to see a play Kevin was in, last night.

Sigh. I keep forgetting that about Theatre Kids. I absolutely love Theatre Kids--but I'm not entirely sure why. I mean it's partly because they're analytic and observant--generally--and cerebral. I love cerebral...ness.

In this play, Kevin's character gets to cuss and be an angry/angsty gay teenager who cusses and gets into an ideological fight with his parents. I wuv it!

What really confuses me is why this turns me on. I mean, I know I have a little soft spot for that "brooding man" idea, and I love Theatre kids... Maybe it's the idea of duality. Heh. "You never could be just one thing!"... That he could be both such a Virgo and a brooding, angsty teenager--complicated...

Neek says it's probably/mostly "misinterpretation of arousal", where I associate my general liking of Kevin to specific things he does. For example, if I'm already nervous/anxious and happen to talk to someone bald, I might think that bald people make me nervous. More specifically, I already like Kevin, and being aroused by his portrayal of someone angsty makes me think brooding people turn me on.

I'm going to back up a bit, because I forget if I mentioned this earlier.

Backstory

Mark and I went to see a play with Kevin, and afterward, we went over to Mark's place and watched Van Helsing. I sat next to Kevin, and as the movie went on, leaned on him and snuggled up against him. At one point, the cat came to sit on his lap, so we both petted it, and sometimes our hands would connect and we'd momentarily be stroking the other's hand, and he never pulled away or put effort into preventing this.

So when the cat left, my libido was all, "TOUCH HIM NOW!" so I made a show of saying, "Oh, the cat's gone now. Hmmm," and petted his forearm. And then I brushed the back of my index along up his arm just above the elbow. And he pulled away and crossed his arms over his chest, inhaling a little frustratedly.

I cocked my head at him. "Are you ticklish, or offended?"

"Not either, really, just..."

"Are you going to finish that sentence?"

... So, I know I wrote earlier that I was going to be less aggressive and back off Kevin for a while, but this was incredibly aggressive of me.

"Well," he began, "I'm just uncomfortable."

So I didn't explicitly touch him again. However, the cat came back and situated herself on his lap once more, and we began petting her, and again, our hands would connect. So, either he didn't care, or he didn't mind. In the back of my mind, I hope it's the latter.

This was the night before I left for the bikeathon. The following morning, I wrote up an e-mail, basically explaining that I like spending time with him, as a friend, but that I'm also physically attracted to him, "and that, combined with cyclical hormones, proximity and an ambiguous relationship can make me, well, aggressive. So I hope I didn't freak you out too much."

He wrote me back a few days later and explained that he liked me, too, but only on the level of friendship, so, hey, let's be friends.

I'm not sure this has lessened my attraction to him. It has, though, made me very aware of it. It's even challenged me and, being of a competitive spirit, I have to now damp down the urge to fight for him.

Sometimes I'll ponder him and think: "Kevin, I want to give you so much; and yet to take so much from you."

And then I wonder what I could possibly offer. Really, until I think a little deeper, the only thing I can come up with is "I want to give him the physical pleasure with my body", which is pretty shallow.

What could I possibly offer? I cook, I'm good with my hands, I'm intelligent...

I'm trying to focus now, but in my mind, I'm on the phone with Kevin, asking him if he wants to go biking, because it's a beautiful weekend, and he's saying yes, and I've secretly got a picnic all planned out

And then, in my mind, we're biking out to a beautiful stretch of land, no traffic for several kilometres around, shade, a slight breeze, fresh, springy grass; and I say, "Let's stop here," so we dismount; and after locking our bikes, we walk over near the tree line, under a dappling of shadow, and I say, "I brought a blanket," and unfold a large red and white checkerboard blanket and spread it around and invite him to sit with me, which he does; and he starts to think to himself, and I catch him and look him in the eye and smirk as I say, "I also brought a picnic," and produce a box of strawberries and cherries and raspberries and small slices of cake and chocolates.

He's uncomfortable now, and hesitates. He starts to ask me if I'm courting him, but he's not aggressive enough, so I interrupt him and tell him to try the strawberries--I picked them myself--so he tries one, and indeed, it's delicious, but wasn't there something he wanted to ask--so I smile at him and say, "Kevin, I must be a horribly selfish person, because I'm courting you even though you've already told me you're not particularly interested in me that way, yet here I am. Ever since I sent you that terribly awkward, but honest, e-mail, I'd been thinking hard why I like you, so I was, perhaps unprepared when I read your reply; and, being possessed of a competitive spirit, took it as a challenge.

"I used to think that romance didn't take effort--that, hey, if I loved someone who loved me back equally, then everything would be perfect. Turns out, it doesn't happen this way; most relationships demand effort. And, Kevin, I am willing to work at this and even fight for this, if you'd let me. I can give you my enthusiasm and pledge to you my honesty--there is so much I want to give you, and at the same time, to take from you; I'm kinda crazy for you that way. ... So! Unless you are very and unchangeably intent on not liking me (which, I suppose I could be convinced of if you were to put it very bluntly and directly), or if you have very good, logical reasons not to, I'd ask, Kevin, please, would you least give me a chance at this?"

Immediately, I'm scared shitless that he's, I dunno, terminally ill, or has a crush on someone else, or finds me or women to be physically repulsive. It's got to be the longest and worst five seconds of my life: I'm entirely helpless; everything is totally out of my control, I can say nothing, I can take nothing back, I'm completely exposed, vulnerable.

...

And I don't know how this story ends.

Change of subject!

I speak differently than I used to. I think I realized it when my friend said, "Sheesh, not everybody is as open-minded as you!"

I'm less articulate these days. I'm not sure if that's from lack of writing. I think I'm scared to commit. Yes, yes, and I know it's better to have a record than to not have one; but the thought of a record still makes me... too self-conscious? I don't know! I say things like, "Well, if [something], then maybe it's not such a good idea to [something else]."

... I've lost where I was going with this; something about how I tone myself down or something. I need to sleep.

--Charlie