Relationships, Fruits and Poetry

Mutual Agreements

(Note: for brevity, "agree to" means "agree to give best effort to")

If you agree to stay in contact with me, then I agree to respect the time we are away from each other.

Alternate wording:
If you agree to not avoid me, then I agree to not suspect you're avoiding me.

If you agree to not have [what makes our relationship unique] with someone else without my permission, I agree to do this also.


So this person I like...

Sometimes, I can reduce my problems to a simple one: Act or Do Not Act.

Right now, (I think) I have an opportunity to get into a stable relationship. This would be awesome, except that I'm going away for the summer. Also, I don't know this person very well yet. Oh, and as usual, I'm thinking too much further than I am.

So I need to find out if this person:

• would be receptive to beginning a relationship with me;
  
• would rather a long-term relationship than short-term; and
  
• would be willing to go four months without me.

Are relationships really so easy? Is it really just...agreement?

"I agree to pursue a relationship with you. I agree to do this. I agree to do this. I agree not to do this... Allright, so it's settled!"

I mean, there's got to be something else...right? Love? Attraction?

Those aren't mandatory, are they? Familiarity can develop into attraction and perhaps love.


I often define cheating as: to share [whatever makes our relationship unique] with someone else without permission.

But what, realistically, could this [whatever] be?

Sex? Ability to communicate? Allowing eachother access to.... to what? Is like a password? ...

"You hold a piece of me now, and you may do with it as you please. I hold a piece of you, too, and it is similarly mine to do with as I please. The hope here is that we will take these pieces and treat them as we would ourselves--or better. At worst, we do this for fear the other will do something nasty in retaliation to our inattention."

Hmm...


What is it I even think I want?

An open relationship?
To come home to someone after Kingston?... To fool around with girls (or guys) in Kingston and have someone to come home to?

That's pretty selfish...

But if this person also wouldn't mind this... Then it would only benefit us both. Else, we'd just not pursue the relationship. Right? ...Right?


Action

One of my friends said that guys who like a girl will tend to like that girl for a while (if they *truly* like her anyway). So waiting out is a very safe action.

However, if the feeling is mutual (ie: he likes me back), then waiting will be frustrating for the both of us. But not that frustrating, I'd imagine.

My biggest problem, I think, is that I'm too forward and too fast about relationships. I want too fast.


Sadness?

When I'm with someone--or fantasising to imitate reality--I get sad, and suddenly.

Why do I get sad?

I think part of it is a feeling of...ephemeral-ness, that this wonderful moment is fleeting. "Everything is wonderful now, and now is over."

Do I believe I'll ever find...fulfilment in a relationship? I don't think so... Why is that?

I think I've stopped believing in that sort of fulfilment. I think I now believe in "making" the relationship work--that both/all parties have to make concessions, that people don't "just" fit together. I dunno, maybe there is someone I "fit" with, but what are the chances I'll meet this person? Slim. More likely, I'll find a person I want to be with, who wants to be with me, and we're both willing to make effort to be together. I just have to make sure I do make an effort...



In other news!

Food

I've discovered dates--the fruit! Also, figs!


Unrelated

I've also rediscovered D. H. Lawrence's poetry:

Figs
by D. H. Lawrence

The proper way to eat a fig, in society,
Is to split it in four, holding it by the stump,
And open it, so that it is a glittering, rosy, moist, honied, heavy-petalled four-petalled flower.
Then you throw away the skin
Which is just like a four-sepalled calyx,
After you have taken off the blossom with your lips.

But the vulgar way
Is just to put your mouth to the crack, and take out the flesh in one bite.

Every fruit has its secret.

The fig is a very secretive fruit.
As you see it standing growing, you feel at once it is symbolic:
And it seems male.
But when you come to know it better, you agree with the Romans, it is female.

The Italians vulgarly say, it stands for the female part; the fig-fruit:
The fissure, the yoni,
The wonderful moist conductivity towards the centre.

Involved,
Inturned,
The flowering all inward and womb-fibrilled;
And but one orifice.

The fig, the horse-shoe, the squash-blossom.
Symbols.

There was a flower that flowered inward, womb-ward;
Now there is a fruit like a ripe womb.

It was always a secret.
That's how it should be, the female should always be secret.

There never was any standing aloft and unfolded on a bough
Like other flowers, in a revelation of petals;
Silver-pink peach, venetian green glass of medlars and sorb-apples,
Shallow wine-cups on short, bulging stems
Opening pledging heaven:
Here's to the thorn in flower! Here is to Utterance!
The brave, adventurous rosaceae.
Folded upon itself, and secret unutterable,
The milky-sapped, sap that curdles milk and makes ricotta,
Sap that smells strange on your fingers, that even goats won't taste it;
Folded upon itself, enclosed like any Mohammedan woman,
Its nakedness all within-walls, its flowering forever unseen,
One small way of access only, and this close-curtained from the light;
Fig, fruit of the female mystery, covert and inward,
Mediterranean fruit, with your covert nakedness,
Where everything happens invisible, flowering and fertilization, and fruiting
In the inwardness of your you, that eye will never see
Till it's finished, and you're over-ripe, and you burst to give up your ghost.

Till the drop of ripeness exudes,
And the year is over.

And then the fig has kept her secret long enough.
So it explodes, and you see through the fissure the scarlet.
And the fig is finished, the year is over.

That's how the fig dies, showing her crimson through purple slit
Like a wound, the exposure of her secret, on the open day.
Like a prostitute, the bursten fig, making a show of her secret.

That's how women die too.

The year is fallen over-ripe,
The year of our women.
The year of our women is fallen over-ripe.
The secret is laid bare.
The rottenness soon sets in.
The year of our women is fallen over-ripe.

When Eve once knew in her mind that she was naked
She quickly sewed fig-leaves, and sewed the same for the man.
She'd been naked all her days before,
But till then, till that apple of knowledge, she hadn't had the fact on her mind.

She got the fact on her mind, and quickly sewed fig leaves.
And women have been sewing ever since.
But now they stitch to adorn the bursten fig, not to cover it.
They have their nakedness more than ever on their mind,
And they won't let us forget it.

Now, the secret
Becomes an affirmation through moist, scarlet lips
That laugh at the Lord's indignation.

What then, good Lord! cry the women.
We have kept our secret long enough.
We are a ripe fig.
Let us burst into affirmation.

They forget, ripe figs won't keep.
Ripe figs won't keep.
Honey-white figs of the north, black figs with scarlet inside, of the south.
Ripe figs won't keep, won't keep in any clime.
What then, when women the world over have all bursten into self-assurance?
And bursten figs won't keep?


Peach
by D. H. Lawrence

Would you like to throw a stone at me?
Here, take all that's left of my peach.

Bloodred, deep;
Heaven knows how it came to pass.
Somebody's pound of flesh rendered up.

Wrinkled with secrets
And hard with the intention to keep them.

Why, from silvery peach-bloom,
From that shallow-silvery wine-glass on a short stem
This rolling, dropping, heavy glovule?

I am thinking, of course, of the peach before I ate it.

Why so velvety, why so voluptuous heavy?
Why hanging with such inordinate weight?
Why so indented?

Why the groove?
Why the lovely, bivalve roundness?
Why the ripple down the sphere?
Why the suggestion of incision?

Why was not my peach round and finished like a billiard ball?
It would have been if man had made it.
Though I've eaten it now.

But it wasn't round and finished like a billiard ball;
And because I say so, you would like to throw something at me.
Here, you can have my peach stone.

Woots!

--Charlie

Me, myself and hypothetical situations

Me

Today, I slept in, then I procrastinated, was late for first class, then I procrastinated, then skipped Discrete Math, procrastinated more, was late for my Comp Sci lab, murdered time, went to the gym for a little bit, then got started on my homework, took a nap, got a coffee and went to work again.

And I realized something.

I am still myself!

This comforts me SO much. I was afraid I was losing myself again: to the military, to socialising, to my physical drives... But when I sat down and powered through as much of my assignment as I could, it felt.... great! I found myself again!

What does this mean?

That I am most myself when solving problems? That I am most myself when...
...not thinking about myself?
...immersed in something different?

This makes sense. If I'm too busy being myself, then I'm not. If I'm not trying to be myself, then I can (be myself).


Earlier today

Earlier today, I waited for the bus (a later bus, because I slept in and procrastinated with making today's lunch/dinner).

As the bus pulled up, I heard running and shouting coming from the end of the block. There were about five teenagers running for the bus. I already had out my bus pass and was ready to board. They obviously wanted to catch the darn bus, and I was in a position where I could delay the bus long enough for them to get on. At the same time, if this bus were early or fast, I'd make an earlier transfer--earlier by about ten minutes!

I put one foot on the bus, looked up at the driver, looked toward the running teens, and the bus crept forward, bumping me.

"Are you on or not?" he demanded. "The bus is for everyone, not one or two people!"

I got on.

This delayed the bus enough that the driver couldn't ignore the running teens and was obliged to stop for them.

But I wondered why I had paused.

Was it just for the teens? Did I really want to delay the bus for them? Or was I just uncertain what to do? I think that would be the harder to face--that I was just hesitating and froze up.

Or, did I actually realize I had the power to delay the bus for a few seconds? If so, why did I hop on immediately when the driver spoke and nudged the bus forward?

I want to know what happened there.

I thought about this the entire ride to campus...

What if that were a helicopter transport? What if those were my troops--my buddies I shared trenches with? Or if they were under my supervision? If the transport had to leave--if the mission and circumstance made its withdrawal necessarily immediate.... what would I have done?

Would I have stepped off? Hopped on? Demanded they wait?

The most logical might be to get on the darned thing--mission before self...

But if those were my buddies, and I were insignificant, might I have stayed? Whom would that benefit? What if they were hopeless--if staying meant certain death? Would I have done that for them? Doubtful... But if staying weren't hopeless, would I have? Would I have stayed to aid them? ... Is it vanity to think I could make a difference--that my refusal to leave would actually sway Death and save lives?

What if they were two seconds away? Would I demand the transport wait? What about five seconds? Six? Seven? In a firefight, every second counts, I understand that abstractly... And situation will always dictate action... A difference of five seconds might mean a precision artillery strike or a well-aimed snipe at the pilot. Waiting for them might even mean watching them die; might mean I get dumbstruck and freeze and another troop has to haul my dumb ass onto the helicopter.

The worst part? Until I can make these analyses faster, the best plan is to follow the plan: get on the transport, don't wait, don't delay. It's the safest action more frequently than others.

...Wow.

--Charlie

Dreams

Dream

My brother K was giving me a ride somewhere, only he wasn't driving, we were sitting in the back of this mysteriously black-windowed car. He asked me the date. "It's the twenty third of January", I said. He asked if I knew what that meant. I knew it meant something, something sinister that might have to do with EVIL RUSSIANS, and he could tell I was becoming suspicious, so he suddenly tried to put me in a lock. I managed to get out, open the door, roll onto the street and run away to safety.

I remembered my dad's old office building, so I headed there. I needed the fifth floor, but to get the door to open on that floor, you needed a trick. There was someone in a parallel elevator, who was chasing after me and knew I was in the elevator, but didn't know the trick, so I got out while she tried to figure it out.

I ran into the old office, and put special locks on the doors to give me time to find something, anything, to help me and to figure out what was going on.

There was an old car, a special car with crazy technology. I grabbed some supplies and--then the dream switched genres--cast some buffs on myself. I was like a Gangrel in appearance, temper and animal lore, but I had different powers.

The Russian vampire baddies busted in while I was still preparing. I shouted (just like Erik in VTM: Redemption) "No!" and hurled myself out a window, casting a sort of mist-form spell. It turned me into an oily reddish vapour and I streaked away into the dusky sky!

"Damn," on of the baddies said. Let's call him El. He was subordinate to--let's call him--Gat. Gat told El not to worry, they'd have me soon. They just had to light these magical candles that would cause me to switch back to solid form from mist if I came near them.

Needing information, I decided to use a little-known trick to hide the red colour of my mist-form so that I'd be nearly invisible. I stole up to some Russian building where a meeting was happening, and switched back to solid form. On the lawn, I was nearly seen, so I dropped as low to the ground as possible and was about to switch form, when I noticed something in the grass.

Little red sparkles up ahead--I waited for the Russians to move away, then sneaked closer. Each marker, planted in the grass like a reflective marker to denote driveways from the road, had a number on it. Today was the 23rd, so I picked up the one that said 23. On it was written "International Trade Day", which "explained" the presence of the Russian vampires here. There was something magical about the item, that I couldn't figure out right then, so I pocketed it.

Using mist form, I recced the building, but found there were candles everywhere! I'd have to use a different form. Luckily, there were rats around, so I changed my form to mimic a rat, and stole inside.

I don't remember what happened inside, but after I accomplished something, I had to leave because I was getting low on blood and health.

I mist form -ed away.

There were these crazy wooden bridges that looped around and around. They were on the way to some Elder I had to see.

Unfortunately, El and some of his cronies were waiting on the bridge, and I hit one of the candles that burned me and forced me to take solid form. Darn, and I was low enough on blood that I couldn't cast it again.

Well, I still had my guile! As the candle notified guards, I hid on the underside of the wooden bridge, waiting for the first guards arrived. The first guard freaked out, and began talking with the next guards to arrive. While they were distracted, I grabbed the last guard, whose absence nobody noticed; and drank him until he fainted, but was still "alive".

Empowered, but not fully recovered, I began laying plans. I cast a small buff that let me sneak better and increase my senses. Then I hid and cast a shape-shift spell on the unconscious enemy so that he would look like me; then cast a berserker spell and finally a mist-form spell on him. Wild with berserker rage, his oily red mist form began streaking around the bridges, looping around and around them, and all the guards chased wildly after him.

I took this distraction to drain another guard, this time I drank him dry, and kicked his ashes into the water. Now I was at half-full blood.

The guards finally flagged down the berserked guard, and forced him back to solid form. When they saw my figure writing, they called over El. El believed this too easy, and wondered at "my" wild behaviour, since it was unlike my usual cool methodical manner. He spoke a word of command, dispelling any buffs on the guard.

At that moment, I resumed mist form and zipped away across the waters.

I had just discovered: El and Gat weren't the only ones looking for me. Kat and Ban were on me, too.

El cursed, but Kat and Ban looked on my mist form and muttered how I was clever, but would be caught. They also mentioned a property of an Item their Head Vampire (let's call her Val) had: it would allow its bearer access to water--to gain control of water--and had such devious uses as underwater breathing, walking on water, swimming in water without leaving a ripple, calling forth water fountains, etc.

I had overheard just snippets of their conversation when I realized the guard had been flagged down and decided to leave.


Over on the other side of the water, I touched down, weak from the exertion. My health was still low, but I had a bit of blood left. However, dawn was coming, and I'd need a place to rest.

I found an abandoned structure on the sandy beach, and headed for it.

I was so weak from my journey that I could barely stumble into the shadows as the sun began creeping up. I found some old plastic boxes that looked like they could provide shelter if I could just dig a bit of a hole. I fell to my knees and began moving aside the rubble so I could scrape at the sand. Two ravens hopped out of one of the discarded boxes.

I had on a charm that would make me appear as an animal to animals. Some wiser animals could tell I wasn't, and even wiser animals could see right through it. I wasn't thinking about that, though.

The ravens were oracles and shamans. One was visibly older and female, the other was a young male, her apprentice.

They asked me what I was doing. I told them in an off-hand way I was digging a place to rest for the day, after a long and tiring journey. The old raven nodded and told her apprentice to help. He objected, saying it there was no gain in helping a tired badger and they should just eat me and be done with it. The old raven silenced him and commanded him to help, and he obeyed.

I was grateful for the help. As we dug, I hit a black object. Curiosity overcoming my fatigue, I brushed the sand around it away. It was a figurine of a crow. The old raven hopped nearer to see.

"It is old," I said, "and I do not recognize it."

"This is a great portent," she said. She inspected it closer, then nodded deeply.

"It is yours if you want it," I offered.

"No, it is for you. It has told me I am to leave my blessing upon it and it will go with you on--your journey."

I was surprised she knew. I hadn't meant to lie or obscure the truth, just to simplify my story for this stranger. She looked at me understandingly--no need to apologise, it was allright. I thanked her, and we completed my resting hide.

"Will you be here when the sun goes down?" I asked.

"No," she said, "but you have my blessing, and this artefact will aid you."

I was too tired to inquire about the small statuette, so I merely nodded in thanks.

"You will not be able to say our names, nor we yours, so you may call me Pecan and I will call you--"

And that's when I woke up!

I don't know what to make of this...

ALSO, I had another dream prior, which involved my whole Driver course, but we were defending the Armoury--which became a great grey stone castle--from its parapets--which had trenches in them--from some sort of enemy! I and my fireteam partner, RP, blew up a big bunch of baddies, but I hurt my leg in the process, then DW hopped over to see how we were doing, and RP explained what happened. DW said he just blew up some other baddies and was off to blow up more and could've used a hand, but that RP should get me to safety first.

Whaaaa?

Dang! That was a few nights ago. And yesterday, I saw DW at the gym working out. Great guy he is.



Off to see my kids!
--Charlie

Tiny confession

When I was 11 or 12, I had a friend who invited me to join the Terry Fox Run on a cool September morning. We took our bikes downtown, and the route was an unremarkable three kilometres that had us expecting an exciting deviation or hill or dramatic curve in the road--there never was. However, at the end of the event, a tent had been set up for runners and cyclists to have back or leg massages, so we went there.

My friend got a back massage, and I figured I'd get my legs done.

Since I'd thought the route would be longer and I might work up a sweat, I'd worn a scrap of a tank top and embarrassingly short shorts. The masseuse didn't seem to mind.

I lay myself down, face first into the massage table, and she began on my ankles, working herself deliberately up my calves and backs of my knees. She moved both hands to my right leg then, where the thighs join the knee. I remember my 12 year-old self thinking how pleasant and personal--perhaps too personal--this felt--but, I reassured myself, she's a professional.

She worked her way up my thigh, slowly, right up to the bottom lip of my shorts, and by then I was getting hot and bothered. But, no no, I said again, she knows what she's doing; and so she remained working on the muscles just below where my shorts ended.

Then, slowly, she slipped under the fabric.

This caught me off guard and I was in an immediate panic, thinking OH MY GOD IS THIS OKAY TO DO? But progress was slow, careful and at every stroke prepared to cease at my refusal. But no refusal came. So she slid up again, working deeper into the tissue and provoking my senses further.

It got to the point where I had to clench to stop myself from gyring at her touch. I remember wanting to grind my hips into the table for release from all that pressure building up. And, all at once, I was over the edge--not by much, but just far enough--and for an instant, I was hefted up, suspended just high enough my feet caught air--my hips seized, some muscles contracted, and I crashed down as lightly as I'd been lifted. It was a tiny orgasm, and if I'm honest with myself, that was my first.

The masseuse then worked on my left leg, with no such repetition.



Why?!

I'm not entirely sure why I recalled this just now. A few things are on my mind:
1. I'm bisexual--at least, and at most, transgendered;
2. I've only been with men, never with women, even since coming out;
3. a co-worker of mine is terribly nervous, but "Oh god, he melts like chocolate in your hands" when I gave him a shoulder rub once;
4. I'm going for a massage in two hours; and
5. I would dearly love to get drunk and have unplanned make-outs with girls.

I guess that's enough to bring up memories...

Yeah... I wonder how much significance that event had on my life... my first ever orgasm was while getting a massage... from a lady... Huh...

--Charlie

Excited for Summer!!

People and Me

I have a bit of a confession to make.

I have a very bad memory for people. This is not a secret. My confession is this: I keep records of people so that I can remember them.

Yes, it's kinda creepy, but this is how I don't forget that they have a dying grandmother. It's not that I don't care about their dying grandmother, I just... I don't automatically store that away for easy access.

When I had a crush on AHR, I would write down every little interesting thing that happened. "He gelled his hair today" is one of my favourite sketches of him.


Summer!

This summer, if all goes well, I'll be in CFB Kingston doing four months of training! Woots! Let's take a look at the money for a moment... Just doing quick calculations, not using actual numbers (also estimating on the lower bound just in caswe):

120 days * $90 per day = $10800 in four months
120 days * $17 per day not sleeping on own bed = $2040 in four months

$10800 + $2040 = $12,840 made over four months


Estimated breakdown:

$12,840
- 2,000 [student debt]
- 3,000 [one year's tuition]
- 0,800 [one year's textbooks]
- 1,200 [laser eye surgery?]
- 3,000 [save!!]
- 0,540 [misc purchases while on course]
- 0,100 [gym membership and locker]

= 2,200

That's going to be a good $2200...
Just doing the Tuesday nights, I'll make 3 * $45 = $135 a month, which should be good for food. That with the occasional weekend of 2 * (90 + 17) = $214 per weekend.

What would I like...?

• winter boots ($70)
  
• work boots (150)
  
• "walking shoes" (60)
  
• change lighting in my room (80)
  
• change the layout of my room [mirror; new drawers; redo closet; shelving] (200)
  
• fix my room [windows, wall, door] (100)
  

Also:
http://www.whitehouse.gov/agenda/civil_rights/


--Charlie!

More me

Had an MSN conversation with GV tonight...

GV:

so how would you evaluate me?
what kind of person am I if it is possible to categorise me?

CW:

Well, you're very flirty for one
And I mean that in a general sense
You speak often vaguely, but intentionally.
You'll bring up a topic, but won't necessarily go into detail unless prompted, or unless you have a specific point to make--at least, from what I've seen, which isn't all that much"Intentionally" means... with a purpose. I don't think you say useless things, and I haven't noticed you using fillers (eg: like, um, things, stuff...) often
:P And you joke a lot
You also seem to have a broader context? I'm not sure how to explain that one
When people observe stuff, they fit it into a context so that it makes more sense to them
You either notice things that a lot of people wouldn't, or you fit it into a different/broader context
I'd guess you're passionate and sometimes freak people out
...
Am I far off the mark?

GV:

i think that your opinion is valid although not entirely truthful
in the sense that your opinion is just that, your opinion
it is how you perceive me, and everyone's perception of personality is different

CW:

How would *you* evaluate yourself?

GV:

id rather not personally attempt to go into detail about myself

CW:

? Why not?

GV:

too personal

CW:

Too personal for me or for you?
Actually nevermind

GV:

too personal in general for me to go into detail with you

CW:

Allright, withdrawn
But you've got me curious

GV:

ill take that as a good thing

A little later...

CW:

Actually, before I pack it inYou asked my "evaluation" of you, so it seems only fair I ask *your* evaluation of me

GV:

more emotional, spiritual and intellectual than physical
you seem to like to get "lost" in your own thoughts
you dont seem to have made a habit of accepting people who are unorthodox
by accepting them i mean accepting to yourself the fact that they are the way they are, rather than conventional

This interests me, the last part.

Of course, I've never really been great at taking either compliments or criticism (although I love being flattered by attention, so I love hearing what others think of me--especially when I agree), but I didn't think that I appeared as unaccepting (or not-readily-accepting).

What I think he saw was my interest in people's characteristics. I just like to notice things people do (and maybe I'm too obvious about it).

Ah dammit, I'm going to be the grandmother in A Good Man is Hard to Find, who blurts out "You're the Misfit! I recognized you at once!" and gets everybody killed.


So... what is Charlie like? Who do I think I am?

I'm curious, always curious--about how things work, how people work; why things are as they are.

I'm nervous and uncertain. I don't know much about LIFE, just THINGS, and it doesn't seem to help me.

I'm really friggin' horny and don't have much control over it when I've no deadlines.

I'm very self-absorbed. Maybe selfish.

However, I also like taking care of others, and seem to make everything work better when I'm looking after someone other than myself.

I'm awkward socially. Duh.

But I'm bold sometimes.
I think this is because I'm usually no-nonsense when I know what I want--no more fooling around! But in many social situations, I don't know what I want! It's social! What needs to be done in that kind of setting?!

I'm, physically, built as a cyclist. I've got strong legs, good for lifting. I'm kind of stocky. I used to be a fatty, but I've gotten leaner (it's starting to revert, though, oh noes).

I used to be a pianist--a rather good one, too. I stopped when I was 16 or 17, though. I'm a poor sight-reader, but I memorize quickly, which enables me to understand the piece quicker and use it as a form of expression. I also had great muscle memory for piano.

Now? My technique is going downhill (but I've started practising more lately) but I can still remember 75-85% of the old songs and my hands know where to go, roughly. I've been told I'm expressive still.

I want to change.
I've wanted to change for a long time; and in different ways, not just "I want to smarter" all the time, but, for example "I want to have more physical aptitude" and later, "I want to become proficient at matrices"...
Do I always meet my goals? No. Sometimes yes. Sometimes I give up or forget about them. Other times, I keep fighting for it (like "I want to get better at socializing").

I like being outdoors, but don't know very much about being outdoors.
I love that feeling when I'm biking and seemingly "have" all this space to myself. That's a poor description. The space is being shared with me by everything else in it--Nature, I guess. Like, "Here, enjoy this with us!"



oy sleepytime
Charlie

Talking With Myself

Condoms

I had a discussion with a Neek the other day. I had mentioned this strange relationship with EE and slipped the word "fuck-buddy". And then I mentioned this other guy I've been eyeing and how I might seriously consider starting "casual relationships" from now on.

What Neek said next, logically, makes sense, I guess. No matter how I react to it, it still makes sense, and it's what I would've said to just about anyone else in my position.

"If you're going to start having casual relationships, you'd better carry condoms."

Backstory: Me

I've always been able to say No. Every time a guy has asked for something (sexual) that I didn't want, I could always, ALWAYS say No and enforce it. There was my first boyfriend; there was MM; PMK; and, hypothetically (since it was only in the land of instant messaging and not face-to-face) EE.

I mention this so you can understand where I'm coming from.

My response was, essentially: "If you have sex, use a condom. If you don't have a condom, don't have sex."

Neek: "You say that now, but in the moment, you won't be able to say No."

Me: "I've always been able to say No!


But this isn't really what I wanted to talk about. No, of course, I want to talk about me.

Me

What does the fact I'm unwilling to carry condoms--even if I'm sexually involved with a guy--say about me?

It means I'm stubborn, and maybe stupid. Well. Carrying a condom would be smart. Not carrying a condom would be stupid. It's a stupid thing to do. Does that make the decision stupid? ... It *should*. Why can't I see it that way? Just carry the fuckin' condom, dammit!

I must have such strong belief in myself, then.

"Well, just in case" has been one of my most-used arguments for things like going to work early or packing extra kit. ... Extra kit.

My thoughts:

Well, I'm obviously not going to jump a guy tomorrow. Tomorrow, I work anyway. And the day after that.

How about the next day?

I'm going to school to buy books and a bus pass.

Mightn't I meet someone at school?

UNLIKELY as fuck.

Why? Why is that unlikely?

Well, I don't like very many guys...

Yet you're considering trying casual relationships...

Yeah, but I have "standards", there are certain things I'm just not attracted to, or wouldn't compromise for the sake of sex I can give myself.

So, you want to have casual fucking with very specific guys. And because he's so specific, this means you won't ever find him. Therefore, you shouldn't carry condoms.

Right! ... Wait, what?

You want "A", but that would mean doing "B", which you don't want. However, getting "A" would be so unlikely that doing "B" would be unnecessary. So, the real question is how badly do you want "A"?

...Yeah. Well. Not all that badly, really. I mean, there are times when I *really* think I want it--a guy to run my hands over and to snuggle with me--but, when I had that with JT, it wasn't great at all. It was empty and boring. ... BUT, it was also viewed as a long-term relationship! Maybe if we came right out and said it'd be casual, it wouldn't have been so bad.

How do you really think you'd react to that? If you found a guy tomorrow and, supposing all things went well, and you said, "Let's be fuck buddies, and here are all the things I'd consider as 'fucking' and what I would and would not like to do with you. We don't have to become emotionally involved with each other--but it's okay if we do, there's just no expectation." Things would be good--great--at first. Happy body sensations! But you're clingy. You are SO CLINGY. Remember PMK? Yeah. YEAH. That's what it would be like. ALL--OVER--AGAIN.

Yikes.

YEAH.

So... I'm clingy, and I would get emotionally attached and it would only hurt me and not him, in all likelihood.

Bingo.

Sooooo...... What does this all mean...

Well. How badly do you want to change?

Huh?

If you could change so that you don't get all clingy and dependent, then you could have casual relationships that work.

Hm. How would I get them to work?

Well, ideally, you'd have more than one going at the same time.

... What?!

I mean, you LOVE attention. If one guy became busy, you could fall back to the other. Then you'd only have to deal with that clinginess.

Well I've never been (romantically) emotionally involved with more than one guy at a time, historically.

True... Y'know, this is becoming more about how you change / don't change.

In what way?

Well, you're always basing your projections on your past.

Isn't that a good thing?

Yes, but it might also limit your ability to grow in new, unseen ways.

Yeah, but every time I've tried that, it's failed: first year of university, Army... I tried to change to fit the culture. And it only worked superficially and for a short time.

So.. Hypothetically, if you had more than one casual relationship at a time...

And they all worked superficially and only for a short time....

..Maybe it would work?

This is way too hypothetical for me.

Just sayin'!

OKAY I THINK WE'RE OFF TOPIC NOW. PICK A NEW TOPIC OR REEL IT IN, GUYS AND GALS.


(Actually, I just got invited to play chess with GV. More later!)
--Charlie!