Hurt

Olek and I have been together close to two and a half years now. We've been through a lot in that time. I would even venture to say, if there were a way to graph our satisfaction with our relationship over time, it would be mostly positive.

But no meaningful long-term relationship is going to be entirely positive (yes I'm hand-waving here). There are things I do that bring him grief; and things he does that bring me grief. One in particular is especially troublesome.

Sometimes, he purposely tries to guilt me, make me feel bad about something.

Now, in most of my other relationships--probably all of them--this isn't a big deal. If someone's trying to hurt me, either there's been a misunderstanding, or that person is no longer worth my time. But when Olek says something like that, it hurts deep.

My first impulse is to ignore it. Because I know, academically, he doesn't really mean to hurt me, that he was just thoughtless and lashed out unthinkingly. But because I can't let any problem between us go unanalysed (for fear there is a worse problem), I'll keep thinking about it. I'll keep digging. And the amount of energy I put into it amplifies the hurt.

Then, I'll start self-berating. "Holy shit Charlie, you're so fragile, how are you even still alive?!"

That usually subsides quickly, but is replaced with wanting to hurt him back. Not to actually hurt him back, but thinking about it. "Well fuck you, maybe I'll just go have sex with Petro!"

I have to mention something here, because I don't think I've ever mentioned it before on this blog. I've come to believe that I am polyamorous by nature. By this, I mean: I can love more than one person at the same time. I don't believe that there is a "best" person out there for me. I don't believe that I ought to love someone intensely forever; the fact I love someone now is enough, and though I may not love them as much in the future, that does not diminish my love for them now.

However, Olek is pretty strictly monogamous. We've talked semi-seriously about having threesomes with another woman, but Olek says such an arrangement would have to be either so casual as to be dismissive of the third person, or she would have to be a paid escort.

I've mentioned Petro before, but I don't think I've ever named him until now. Petro is a suitable name, I think; I used to think he was made of stone. And one day I will have to post about our encounters.

Back to the story at hand...

So I'll think to myself how I should hurt Olek back for hurting me. There are many reasons why I wouldn't actually go and have sex with Petro, but the one that's important to this story is: I would absolutely hate to hurt Olek.

Then, the fear of hurting him begins to set in.

For me, the greatest hurt typically comes from being lied to, being tricked. And so I would hate, for example, to trick Olek into thinking I'm monogamous. I would absolutely hate for him to go about thinking I could be satisfied with monogamy if the fact were that I just couldn't. I am deathly afraid that I will be fundamentally unsatisfied with monogamy, and that I won't find out until Olek and I are married (or something), and that it will crush him.

I've been hurt by someone who didn't know enough about himself to know what he wanted. Actually, that's a little unfair to say. JM both actively withheld truth from me (and told lies), as well as told me untrue things simply because he didn't know the truth. But imagine asking your partner, "Why do you love me?" and getting back, "Oh, probably for these reasons."  I'd have preferred, "This question caught me by surprise and I'd like to take the time to find you an answer that respects the depth of your question rather than say the first thing that comes to mind" but hey maybe I'm weird that way.  (I'm being facetious; I think that is a good preference to have, though it may be unlikely to happen!)


...post abandonned

Andre - Part One

I promised before that I'd write about Andre. It's a bit of a long story, and there's no definite end other than the fact I haven't seen him since this past summer.

A lot of this is stitched together from fragments of memories and what I recorded in my journals. Some of the timeline is confused. Some details are added in retrospect, some details have been forgotten. This is an exercise I try to perform with myself every year, remembering that summer in all its beauty...


We met in Kingston, ON in July 2009. At that time, I was still "with" JM, a boy I'd met on the bus to university.

Quick summary: About four days before I left for Kingston, JM and I made out in a bathroom, and then decided we liked each other enough to try to keep in touch while I was away for the next four months. We agreed to "keep things open" though, considering how little we knew about each other and how unfair it would be to claim we were "in a relationship". The first weekend into my course, most of our course went out drinking. GK, a man from our course, danced with me, and then started kissing me. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with that, so I stopped. About a month later, I went drinking with some Reg Force guys. CV, a Reg Force line tech, and I shared a cab back to shacks. He walked me to my room to make sure I'd be allright. And somehow we ended up on the bed and he was licking my nipples. He wasn't doing a good job, so I flipped him over and showed him how it's done. By that point I had sobered up a little, and gently convinced him to leave.

This brings us to mid-late July.

My father had taken ill. Mom called me on the weekend to tell me. My roommate saw me shoving my face into a towel, trying not to let Mom know I was crying. It was bad. Dad had some kind of infection and his body was so deep in shock that he lost his vision. The doctors had given him a "50/50" chance after looking him over. They didn't know what was wrong, they suspected a blood infection.

I went home for a week to visit him.

While I was at home, I took the opportunity to visit JM as well. We were both virgins at penetrative sex. (I had touched a penis (sexually) twice in my life and he had received a blowjob once.) We went to his place and I told him I wanted to have penetrative sex. He asked if I was sure, I confirmed, and he went to fetch a condom. When he returned, he was limp, and despite all efforts, we couldn't get him stiff enough to even get the condom on. We shrugged it off. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened (but more on that later).

My father got slightly better, and I returned to Kingston to complete my course.

While I had been away, another course arrived. And on this course was a man named Andre. He looked to be, at least in his thirties. His smile was young, but the lines, the greying hair, and the sadness you could sometimes see on his face or in his eyes, it all contradicted with his seemingly youthful attitude to life. He struck me as a man who had experienced "the finer things of life" and decided he wanted it simple afterall.

As it happened, I wasn't far off. He was thirty-nine that year (as a Gemini, he'd already had his birthday by then), and used to be a salesman. I wouldn't find out until later, but he had been a very successful salesman and had enjoyed wealth and the experiences it availed; staying in luxury hotels and ordering any dish on the merest whim... But he got sick of the lifestyle, quit his job and joined the Army. I'd also find out, he had three children.

But none of this mattered, partly because I didn't know at the time, and partly because it just didn't matter anyway. Well, to be honest, I was curious about his age, so I stole a glance at his military ID.

He introduced himself to me when I returned to Kingston.

"I don't think we've met."
"I'm Charlie."
"Well Charlie, I'm Andre."
"Hi Andre."

It was bewildering to me at the time why someone would introduce himself that way. I was flattered but confused at the structure and....forwardness.

Thinking back now, I can barely remember how we got to know each other in those early days...

One weekend, we went to see the Kingston Symphony Orchestra perform Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at Fort Henry (which I thought was extremely poetic).

Andre drove a European SUV: leather upholstery, sunroof, digitally controlled seats you could move by pushing buttons... I'm not a "car-person", but feeling that engine was one of the most exhilarating+luxurious+empowering things I'd ever felt. Plus, he was a decent driver, though he'd be a jerk sometimes and speed up just so someone couldn't pass him.

We took photos around Fort Henry. I enjoyed making canon-penis poses. At one point, I got dizzy looking down a flight of stairs. Andre offered me his hand.

The orchestra played. It was beautiful. And there were cannons and fireworks, and it was brilliant.

Andre loved it so much, he also went the second night. Back at shacks, I didn't know where he'd gone. I think I might have known he was going again and maybe was under the impression he wanted to take me again. Whatever it was, I wanted to get a hold of him, so I wrote him a note and stuck it to his room door. It had my phone number.

My roommate, since she lived nearby, had gone home for the weekend. Later that night, Andre came by my room.

"I knew you'd write me a note. Well, that's not true--I had hoped. I had really, really hoped you would write me a note today." We talked briefly. I don't remember anymore. Somewhere in there, I may have mentioned I like giving and receiving back rubs, but a lot of people seem to think it's strange to do that with a stranger or even acquaintance, so I have nobody to receive from. Andre said he'd be fine with that.

One night, a bunch of us went to a pub to hang out. We talked and talked and talked. We came back to shacks and talked. Finally, we got sleepy and began leaving. Andre said, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Some nights later, a bunch of us went drinking. It was the night that started everything in motion.

It was a mess trying to find a good place to drink, but we did, and eventually Andre and I cabbed back to shacks. He asked if it was "backrub time", so I obliged and spread a sheet over a spare bed. He lay himself down and I started on his upper back. Somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared and I didn't fight it except to say it would be rough without oil (I didn't have any).

Then he started playing with my feet, giving them a little massage at the same time. Eventually he rolled onto his back and we just started talking, trailing our hands over eachother a little.

He told me he had liked me from the instant he saw me, that it was magnetic, he was drawn to me. I had gained a lot of his respect very quickly, which was very strange because he is often skeptical of people and others often have to do something extraordinary to earn that level of respect from him.

He also wondered why I "chose" him--reminding me of PMK from my BMQ/SQ. What about him made this--snuggling--allowable to me?

Andre said he'd been single for a long time, because he's very picky and doesn't want a girl whom he can just pick up at a bar--he doesn't want sex, and if sex is so easy, there's almost no point. He doesn't think he could sleep with a perfect stranger. I half-agreed, telling him a little about my history...

We continued laying, skimming our hands across eachother and chatting. I mentioned again that in my head is a remnant of the "shy fat girl" personality from earlier years. He then went on to extol my virtues, including that I'm smart and attractive. I laughed only a little. He gave me such praise, it was so painful: "I am so lucky. The luckiest man in the world could not ask for what you are willing to give me",  "You're an angel",  "You're a doll."

I brought up--it was on topic but I can't remember now why--how I thought penises are gross. I lied a little though: my curiosity was beginning to at least equal and perhaps surpass my repulsion, for most things; I exaggerated how much they freaked me out. He posed a question to me: "So if I were to place your hand here on my pants, what would you do?"

Initially, I didn't understand. "I'd probably punch you in the face and throw you out of my room."

He laughed. He meant in a mutually permissive and exploratory way. I told him I didn't want to find out that night. I was thinking about JM.

We snuggled a lot. He took off my bra from under my shirt. I refused at first to let him kiss me, but then allowed him to kiss me so long as he understood I would never kiss him in return. He would try to touch my breasts and I would deny him. "It'd be worth it, breaking my thumbs, for just a touch."

We found a position where we'd support the other's head with the arm closest to the other.

"I'd rather use the strength from lifting my head to instead lift yours."
"I like that," I said.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked. I paused.
"I could become comfortable," I replied.
"You mean it?" He sounded eager.
"Wait, what?" I was confused. "What do you mean?"

Somewhere in that confusion, I explained, "I have someone back home. Now, you and I can either have something entirely physical and that would be the end of it, or continue as close friends." He said he'd much rather take the friends part.

"We're being intimate right now, not necessarily sexual. ... Last night, after I said goodbye, I went back to my room and just lay there, thinking I should go back. But then I thought, if I went back and knocked on your door, you'd ask, 'What do you want?' And I wouldn't know how to reply. 'To spend more time with you'? 'To be in your company'? 'To get to know you better', 'to just hang out with you'? I just didn't have an answer."

We continued until we both drifted off. We slept in the same bed with one sheet and one blanket.

He'd snore, though; and I'd freak out lest someone hear us and suspect a man in my room. I woke a few times: 0600, then 0700, then someone's alarm went off and I started. Around 0730 we both woke up ("I love waking next to you, feeling your warmth, your skin, your muscles") and started touching eachother some more. It got sexual fast, I guess that happens easily in the morning. He made his way to my breasts, my nipples, started sucking on them, using his tongue to circle around them. He tried his teeth a few times, but I'd recoil, and he got the idea. I'd wrapped a leg around him, and he had a thigh between my legs, which I started grinding into. Then he shifted so that he was pressing his crotch into my thigh.

I could feel him getting hard through his pants when he pressed into me. He started moaning, said, "Oh yes" a few times and--I'm not sure if he came. I didn't feel a wet spot, I think, but he was wearing pants... I just remember his hips bucking slightly, his grip tightening, I think I heard him say "Oh god", then he slowed down, then took a few moments to himself and went back to work on my nipples.

I showed him my preferred technique, which unfortunately ended up burning out my left nipple for a while. We cooled off, laying with eachother, calming down and regaining ourselves.

Then he realised he had to take a leak, but it wouldn't make sense for him to come back to my room after--too risky. We parted ways and he called me Sweetheart again.



JM and I fought over this. I found it stupid, considering we agreed to keep things open. Had I been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I didn't like GK or CV and that's why I didn't continue with them. But I liked Andre. He was a gentleman, he didn't take and he was always..... curious, gauging my responses. He made me feel like he was listening to everything.

At the time I was undecided, but now I just hate the way JM would rush in like he knew everything about how I wanted to be touched all the time. I hated it.

I told JM I didn't want to lose him over Andre, but that I needed companionship out here. It's very hard to not have any friends in a strange city. (I would later realise AB had been a friend to me, and we would become better friends... And then I would become angry at her because of just one little trait that pissed me right the fuck off. And then we'd be good again.)

I don't think I can fully explain what it's like. I'm sure someone would be able to explain it, but I think it's extremely difficult, partly because what happens is...your perceptions change, and you begin to take things for granted, and because of that, you don't think it's worth mentioning those details. I don't think I could catalogue for you all the assumptions and biases and expectations I've developed from being on course.

In any case, I told JM I wasn't about to ditch this amazing relationship with Andre just for him. I agreed not to pursue "intimacy" with Andre again. But that would prove impossible...

100

I've had some issues since this is the 100th post--I mean, I was hoping I'd have something brilliant to post, but I don't have anything particularly brilliant, and I've let that stop me for entirely too long now. So!

I've been having these issues with [who I am] and [how that relates to JM]. Because.... He has issues with my short hair and being mistaken as a guy (and thusly, we look like a gay male couple).

"Girlfriend"

I feel myself freaking out again. It's the word "girlfriend" that does it to me, I think. I really don't know why! It's just a word! "Just" a word, huh.

"Boyfriend" bugs me, too. Lover, sweetheart, my boy, my man...

These just have...images associated with them, and I don't enjoy those images. "Girlfriends" have always been this decorative creature hanging about boys' necks who are very dependent and cute but not terribly self-sufficient. And I notice that I tend that way when I think of myself as a "girlfriend". I'll get over it eventually, but in the meanwhile, I just need to get away from becoming that.


Publicity

That's another thing we've got bugging us: publicity.

I have short hair. I look like a guy--I'd guess maybe 90% of people on the street who see me think I'm a guy without a second thought, and 5% think I'm a guy and bother with a second thought. Maaaybe 5% think I'm a girl. Maybe.

So when I'm in public with JM... well, in all honesty, we were only in public for maybe two days in total, but MAN what two days!

A few incidents happened on the bus: people giggling and pointing; an old man who was outright hostile to gays ("Are you gay? You're holding hands... Michael Jackson was gay... he died..."); general snickers and odd looks; a few turned-heads when we walked down the street (IN THE GAY VILLAGE, OF ALL PLACES, but there was an event going on, so maybe there were more "foreigners").

JM has expressed his discomfort at this. It bothers him. Moreso, it bothers him that it bothers him. He doesn't understand why it bothers him so much. He said to me that he wants to get to the level of comfort that he can say, "This is Charlie, I fucking love her and I don't give a shit what anyone thinks."
(dated 5 Jul 09)

Montreal

I went to Montreal this weekend. AB and I stayed in the gay village, there's this fantastic bed and breakfast in the heart of it all; gorgeous. (The only thing that might make it better: JM.)

We went to Unity, which is a huge gay nightclub--two levels indoors (or is it three) and a terrace-type bar/smoke pit on the roof. There were also a lot of men (AB wanted more girls, who could blame her). There were *also* a lot of gay male couples.


Charlie

I've mentioned before, I'm sure, but there's a part of me that's definitely, undeniably masculine, and I'm suspecting there may be part of me that's actually, well, male.

Aside: Coursemates

Two of the girl coursemates think it's so sad that, at the age of 20, I'm confused about who I am. I guess it is sad, but no sadder than anything else, I think. I just wanted to put this out there while it's on my mind, because one of those girls is not worth my time.

I remember when I first came to Kingston and JM and I would chat for hours and we were under the agreement that four months is a LONG time and whatever happens, well, happens. I remember thinking he ought to find a man while I'm gone, because a gay man could give him more pleasure than I could (well, even if I were physically with JM).

And I wonder... What if tomorrow I woke up and I had a penis? What if tomorrow I woke up and my body was male? What would change? Anything? ... Well. JM's already seen me naked, so I guess some things would change. Aside from freaking out and wanting to get medical attention and figure out wtf just happened, if I decided this was a gift from God and wanted to stay in that body... then what? Some things would be different (penetration for one thing) but I'd also be able to practice what I'd do to him, on myself.

Aside from sex, what would change? Image...


JM, again

He's such a sweetie. He's an intellectual--which is awesome!--and he's not shy/introverted--which is so rare, he's definitely a keeper--which balances my social shyness and awkwardness quite well. He has some traditional/classical views, he's chivalrous (he bought me a dozen red roses when I went Home to visit for a week), but he's very, very open and comfortable about his sexuality and can be very forward.


...post abandoned


post from 5 Jul 09
Dream

I had this dream last night, and I've had it at home, too.

I'm walking with a friend (AB last night, and someone else the other time) through downtown at night, and we're trying to find a place or go somewhere. We end up in a building, it's very tall with lots of glass windows, glass automatic doors and escalators. There's also a lot of security: cameras, sensors, that sort of thing, because it's got some classified stuff inside.

My friend asks something like, "Are we there yet?" or "Where is it?" so I take lead and start navigating through the escalators (we're usually going downward) and automatic doors, careful of the security. Suddenly, an alarm goes off, and I book it to the outside, ground level. The dream ends when I'm outdoors.


Interpretations?

I'm not sure! When I hear that alarm, I panic and just bolt. I've always thought it was my friend who accidentally set off the alarm and I just want to get away from him/her and any trouble. Were we not supposed to go through that building? I'm not sure! Maybe.

I'm actually really not sure.


...post abandoned

Tease

Dom and Sub

So now that I've been spending more time with JM, who likes to make known he likes to be in control--also in bed--I've been wondering about "tops and bottoms" or "subs and doms".

I have a general idea in my head of dominatrixes whipping their submissive partners, and both getting off from their respective roles. But I'm wondering more broadly about "tops" and "bottoms". The more I think about it, the more intricate it seems.

Here's my thinking so far: tops need bottoms more than bottoms need tops, and this actually gives the bottom more power overall.

Even from the standpoint of single masturbation while the other's gone... Top can only imagine doing things to Bottom, who isn't there, so Top can't really get off on that. But Bottom can do things to hirself and imagine it's Top doing it--it doesn't really matter WHO is dominating Bottom, even if it's Bottom's imagination.


Me and JM

(Actually, I really should be explaining Me and SW first, but this will work, too)

So JM is SW's friend, but I'd actually met JM before knowing that! We were on the same bus one day and started chatting. It was great.

Now that we know eachother better, we've been hanging out more. He came to my going away party (I'll have to blog about that later) where we all got buzzed at my place later, and we're all flirty drunks so that was interesting (two mostly-straight guys, a bi girl and a gay man... Hoo boy). So JM and I flirted with eachother--a lot. It was a bit funny to see him restrain himself though: he'd start to say something, then stop and tell himself not to. Hehe.

I showed everyone around my house and we hung around in my room because it's in the basement and my folks were sleeping upstairs. Then I brought out my (brothers') complete collection of the original "Transformers" comic books. JM took a moment, blushed and looked away, then said, "I'm sorry--drinking makes me... um..." "Emotional?" MB suggested. "No, um, horny actually," JM finished. Hah! Awesome.

By the end of the night, JM was apparently very horny and trying his best not to make a fool of himself. It was great. And we decided we'd have to see eachother again before I'd left.

We got together last night.

We went to a Burger King and he got me a bacon double cheeseburger (in repayment for the last time, when I paid) and we chatted. For some reason, I ended up blathering on about my first and second boyfriends and how destructive they were to me. I dunno why I started talking about all that.

Somewhere in there, I bought bus tickets, and he saw a Cosmo magazine and decided it was a good way to change the theme of our conversations that night.

"'Fifty dirty-licious fantasies your guy has' [or something]" he quoted. After a moment to size me up, he offered, "Want to know mine?" Then, "Haha, no, I'm just kidding."

I took myself a moment to size him up and said, "Not in public."

So later, when we were out of the store, we chatted/flirted some more. At one point, there was some dog shit on the sidewalk and I walked very deliberately around it, then giggled at how huge/thick it was and how big a dog it must've been to create it.

"Fido's pretty big," JM said.

I looked his pants up and down. "Apparently!" It took him a while, but he laughed.

We got to a bus shelter and waited for the 11.

"So, now that we're out of the public, what are your 'dirty-licious' fantasies?"

"Oh, you're bold," he said somewhat to himself. I guess I like that recognition. He does that a lot--talks about me to me--and I think I like it.

"Well, you offered," I said under my breath.

"Well, I like to be in control. And public places--not getting caught, but the risk of getting caught, like if we were doing in the bush or behind a curtain. ... How about you?"

Now that I think of it, I do have a "fantasy" that would have gotten him stiff/er. But I couldn't think of any at the time.

"But I do have a weird relationship with pain," I conceded, and went to describe it.

After a while, he reflected, "I think I like that--not that I myself would get off on pain, but I think I like the idea of someone else..."

We continued flirting after we got off the bus and waited for our home buses. I think he was starting to get stiff, and I was definitely aroused. We talked about cougars (aka: cradle robbers) and long hair (I told him about how long mine used to be, and that it was very smooth and thick and how I loved the cool feel of it on my skin--"Damn, thanks for that," he said).

"Damn you're a tease," he said, "but it's okay, I like it."

He went on to tell me about this girl who used to tease him so much that one day, in the middle of a shopping mall, he started whispering in her ear for about five minutes, telling her all the things that she made him want to do. Not that it made it awkward, but just, "Damn, now that I'm horny, I want release. You bastard!" Haha!

We spent the next twenty minutes teasing eachother so bad. We're so cruel.


Me

I used to think I'd be a top. In fact, I still think I'm a top at heart. But I think I'd also enjoy being a bottom for things like orgasm control. I love being teased. But I also love teasing. I dunno. It'd be interesting, being with JM.


But right now, this keyboard is really bugging me so I'm gonna stop this post here.

--Charlie

Army Crush and Thoughts

So, Charlie has an "army crush".

He just happens to be two years older than me, too. But I... I don't know what to make of anything, of any of him.

Well I'll start with the superficial first. He's damn hot, and he has an accent, and he's "crazy" (there's some story about how, after having stepped on a nail, he dug it out with a knife rather than go to the hospital) and has at least one eccentric hobby (it involves a wheel).

What's under that? I have no clue. There's something.....strange, or different at least. He did a tour and came back. That in itself is gold. He told me once that he had hoped it would change him, that he would win huge medals or awards or make the news or at least come home in a box. But, no, nothing has changed, except maybe he's a little disappointed now.


We talked a little tonight. He makes idle conversation, and he seems to be aware of chivalry (let the girl win the first game when you're playing pool; open doors for others; let others through first in a narrowing, things like that).

Then he told me something strange: He likes to "mindfuck" with people--to tell them insane batshit crazy stories, because they'll believe them. Like, when he was overseas, all he did was eat Pop Tarts, but people don't want that, they want to hear outrageous war stories, so he'll make them up for them.

He also said I need to drink--at very least, have a drink in my hand to show "support" for those who do drink, or show that I'm one of them, something like that. He said to get a beer next time.

"I don't drink beer, I drink hard--I don't drink, but when I do, I drink whiskey, vodka... Beer is too light, I flare up--I'm Asian..." (I ramble.)

Somewhere in there, he said, "I like to live dangerously," in his thick accent--it gave me shivers. I wanted to seize the moment and say something uninspired and crazy and spontaneously and profoundly... Silence. Too long a silence--too thoughtful or appreciative to be honest. So I put on my "army accent" and asked, "What sort of crazy shit do you do?"

A pause. A hesitation, sizing me up. "Ehhh, that's a not so good question to ask me." There was a suggestion that I ask something different. He went on.

He'd had two beer, and perhaps it was showing. It's hard to say--but social drunkenness and my empathy is another topic for another day.

Twice, he made comments I couldn't hear, and then explained they were jokes, then quickly added that they weren't very good ones so it was okay. Before I left, I told one of my favourites:

"Infinitely many mathematicians walk into a bar. The first orders a beer. The next, a half beer; the next, a quarter; an eighth. Before the next can speak, the bartender says, 'You're all idiots!' and pours two beer."

He laughed--he got it and found if tunny, I was impressed! He'd said he'd taken Calc (and Stats I, Physics, Chem, Linear Algebra, and maybe Comp Sci, because he knew a bit about Java or C and object orientation and functions...).


There's something in me right now that seems to crave companionship. I'm alienating myself and convincing myself there is no one for me and that I should get used to this fact. But instead of motivating me toward independence, it depresses me and right now I just want to scream. Or jack off--but the basement is bug-infested, and jacking off won't solve anything. Does screaming solve anything? Crying?

My own caring undoes me, it seems. If I could either overcome my problems, or not care for them so much, I think I might be happier.

Well, I'm going to get a snack.
--Charlie

Story from Summer of 2008

I feel like writing about this past summer, 2008. I think enough time has passed that:
a) I have a clearer, more "objective" idea of what happened;
b) anyone who cared at one point has stopped caring by now;

This story contains explicit scenes of (hetero) sexuality.

This story takes place at the beginning of my SQ--the end of July or the beginning of August 2008. The fifty-odd of us had just spent a month together as a course, living in the luxury of separate rooms with television sets and lock-able doors.

About a week prior was the BMQ grad party. A bunch of us went to a bar and danced and drank and some guys went to the conveniently-close hotel to stay the night. I had drank a few and was slipping past "tipsy" and into "drunk", and I was dancing very closely with PMK. Annnd he slid his arm around my waist.

Aside: I'd never, NEVER in any of my, well, three relationships, been treated "like a lady". My friends and (past) lovers have always treated me as a respected person, and not like a sexy feminine figure. They might have thought of me sexually, but I wasn't treated this way, which is not a bad thing! All I'm saying is that this feeling was ENTIRELY NEW and felt....well, new and good!

When 0200 rolled around, and the bar closed, we were so close to getting a room together. The only thing that stopped us? No rooms were "available". Whatever.

The story takes place about a week after that party.

We got some time off. I went to see strippers with some guys (and gals). PMK showed up sometime. Then we all went back to the shacks. I'd had a few drinks and was tipsy--not drunk, just tipsy. I and another girl, KH, crashed on PMK's bed. Eventually, KH got up and left, and some guys came around, making some fuss about how I was passed out in his room. Someone said something about waking me up, and when I hear my name and "wake up" in the same sentence, I do. So I got up, made a drowsy exit, all the time asking, "What the hell are you talking about?" and followed the crowd.

Somewhere in there, IM pulled me aside and said that PMK was calling for me, that he wanted me, and that I should go see him. I didn't believe him (he was probably just trying to see what would happen), but somehow he convinced me to go.

The way the rooms are set up, the door opens inward and the first thing you see walking in is a desk-table-thing. To your immediate left (or right, depending) is a sort of door-less closet, and past that, hidden by its walls, is the bed.

I tapped lightly on PMK's door. He stuck his hand off the side of his bed, palm up, and waved me in with a simple bend of the fingers. So I shuffled in shyly and crouched at his bedside. We made idle chatter.

In retrospect, I think he was just chatting to get me into bed--not a bad thing, but at the time, thought he was only talking to make me more at ease, since he was already comfortable and confident about everything.

"There's no way you're comfortable sitting down there," he said.

He has a fascinating voice. He'll sing sometimes, just for the hell of it--he'll take his words and give them notes, any notes, or he'll make sing-songs when addressing others in front of others. He sometimes throws in a chuckle, a rueful or disappointed chuckle. But sometimes his voice takes on a highly sensual quality--it makes me very aware of his body, his physical feelings, and my own.

This time, his voice had a chuckle, not rueful but playful and inviting. It made me nervous and shy.

"I'm quite comfortable here, actually; actually, I can be comfortable almost anywhere--" I started abstracting, I probably started going on about how I could sleep anywhere at any time, but I could wake up at the sound of--

I stopped. I realized my chattering and accepted his invitation.

We chatted some more, idle chatter, time-filling, oppressive chatter, made to imitate closeness, to justify this indulgence.

Silence.

"I'm going to take my shoes off." Off they went, paired neatly together, just out of the way, beside the desk. Good job. I slid back into the bed. He had laid out his arm, and I fitted the bend of my neck into his thick arm. I looked over at my shoes. How orderly, how tidy and neat and--

"I'm going to take my glasses off." I folded them away and tucked them into one of the shoes. Back to his arm. He rolled to his side, drew his other arm around me, drew me close to him, gently pulling my body in.

"I want you to know," he began, "that I'll only go as far as you want to, only as far as you're comfortable with."

Something sparked and stirred in me. Excitement, gratitude, desire? Relief, anticipation, comfort...

We chatted more--or, he talked, and I drank his words.

"I'm a sensitive guy," he said, "not 'sensitive' in--I mean, my nerve-endings are closer to my skin, so I feel more, that's why I'm so touchy-feely." And, "I don't know if it's a matter of pride, but I like to make the girl come, too. I guess it's pride. If I don't, I feel like I failed somehow."

"This is crazy," I remember saying.

"What is?"

"This, all of it--being on base, on course, the whole frat policy..."

He chuckled. "There are worse things to get in trouble for."

We snuggled. He touched my nipples through my shirt. I drew breath, he paused. There was noise outside, and we realised how early it was. We agreed to continue in an hour.

An hour later, I poked my head outside my door and then tiptoed back into his room. He slept with his fire blanket, crazy guy. I slipped into his extended arm and he drew me in, touched my face, my arms, kissed my mouth.

There's something about mouth-kissing someone I don't know very well, it feels strange. I mean, mouths are for communicating--among another things. And mouth-kisses are two "communicating" -type body parts, interacting in very close proximity... They should be communicating! So, I dunno, these kisses make me nervous.

His skin was rough, I think I like it rough; textured, work-worn. He was--not quite "aggressive", but assertive and willing to go after whatever he wanted. He'd grab my ass--repeatedly--tighten his grip around a cheek either just to feel how it felt in his hand, or to turn me on. It gave me such a hard-on.

And he'd switch up our positions, too: he'd take top, he'd concede; take, concede, take, concede... And sometimes I took, and sometimes I would concede.

He lay me on my back and set his mouth to my naked torso; manipulated my nipples between his lips and teeth; and I thrust my hips up into his legs, down into the sheets, up again and grinding my clothed crotch into his clothed member. At some time, I managed to pull him off. "If you keep playing with my nipple, I'll scream from sheer pleasure." He chuckled, but backed off.

I lay him on his back--somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared or rolled up to his neck and shoulders and I pushed his elbows back down beside his head and pinned them there with my arms--and played my mouth on his chest, took his right nipple between my lips. He'd draw breath, move, and moan, and talk a little dirty. I moved to his left, and his hands took me by the shoulders and hefted me up to his face so he could tell me between breaths: bite me, use your teeth, harder. I took my teeth to the blunt of his nipple and he started grinding his hips into mine. Did I mention that he talks dirty? I think I like it.

"Fuck yes."

Eventually he said, "I can't stand it anymore. Take my cock in your hands," and he reached into his army-issue boxers and pulled it out.

Now, I should probably mention, up until that point, I had never seen a penis--I mean, up close and personally, where I could touch it and see it respond. There was this one time, a boyfriend sat in a chair and I undid his jeans and groped around for a while, but that was under silk Sponge-Bob boxers, denim and a sweater, and I didn't have to see it.

When PMK "whipped it out", there was a moment where I seriously thought it was some ridiculous, over-sized silicone imitation--why one earth would it lay so huge and limp on his gut? I think I laughed.

Giggling, I took it in my hand. What do I do with this? I tittered, apologised. "I've never done this before."

"Well, it's always good to try new things."

"How... How do you do it?"

He showed me. He closed his hand around it and moved slowly, pulling up gently, down gently; up slightly tighter, down gently... His fingers guided my timid hand and placed my digits around the limb. I remember my thumb just barely reaching my fingertips on the other side. Up gently, down gently, up tighter, down gently... Now you try. His hand closed around my own, moved us both, then let me continue.

I remember vividly the feeling of loose skin, like an over-sized wrapping for sausage--is that where sausage came from--and it moved with my hand as though gliding along some hidden shaft beneath. But I suppose that makes sense... Why didn't I know more about penises? It bothered me somehow, that this was so alien to me--yet it bothered me equally to take this alien organ and manipulate it in my hands... So much loose skin!

I got into the rhythm, got a feel for the pressure; started trying variations. It was enormously gratifying to feel him harden in my hand, and to have my hand pulled along, closer to him in a growing erection. I pulled down on the skin just by his head, exposing so suddenly a pink tip, and I twisted it in the palm of my hand. He grunted. "Fuck yes. Oh, babe--oh baby..."

At one point he said, "Slow down," and it caught me off guard. I slowed. We snuggled; kissed mouths, petted. He was all breath and sweat.

"This is so unfair," he said.

"Unfair?"

He went on to explain that he likes to give as well as get--so that "the girl" gets some attention, too.

"The reason I asked you to slow down was because I was about to come, and--and I didn't want to 'surprise' you." He kissed my neck. "Do you want..." I was so hot for him. "Do you want me to make you come?"

Some part of me was begging for release, I wanted him so bad, I was so insanely crazy for him, I might have done anything, I might have gone through with anything.

"I'm," I tried to put words together. "Hell no. I scream and I'm huge mess when I come."

He laughed, half with mirth, half with unbelief, as though he couldn't believe his good luck--as though he wanted to ascertain his good luck. What a tease--though he probably thought the same of me. We kissed. There was a suggestion of a chuckle.

"Why do you have to be so damned loud..."

From there, we began to settle down, drift into a calm. We chatted idly--and I was forever wanting to hold onto him past this month, past this course.


And that was my first, and at this date, my only one night stand. We didn't really have "sex" (in my opinion, we had sex), and it wasn't just the one night (it was two, but only one should be remembered), but a one night stand anyhow.

There's something very reassuring about entering that kind of (largely unspoken) agreement: You are you, I am I; you want, I want; we're just going to give into our bodies for this one time, no complications, no strings attached, you and me, fulfilling our bodies, together for this stretch of time.

Anyhow, there's my little story. More to follow, perhaps, some other time.
--Charlie

Opinions

So it turns out I have some weird ideas about my image as a woman, and I never knew I had these ideas! One of them I had mentioned before: Hetero penetrative sex.

Charlie on Pregnancy (personally)

Right now, I can't see myself having children--in the future, even. Sure, aside from being beautiful and wonderful, there's probably a lot of fulfillment and pride and other great things... But me--Charlie--pregnant? I feel that would only propagate the idea that women are factories for creating more humans.

People see pregnant women all the time and--though maybe this is a bit of a stretch--the sight of a pregnant woman causes people to stop and think about pregnancy and creation of new humans. I think it's MUCH more rare for someone to see a non-pregnant woman and think, "Oh look, there's a woman who isn't pregnant!" and think about women and how they could be non-pregnant.

Another thing: in a couple joined in civil union, there's an expectation to have a child--by birth or adoption, or what have you, but there's a cultural expectation, I think. And if a couple goes long enough without children, the norm is to ask, "Are they infertile?" "Don't they want kids?" "What's wrong with them?"

Whenever that question--"What's WRONG with them?"--is asked, there is usually a lot of assumption going on. Here the assumption is: it is normal to have children, it is normal to want to have children. Thus, a couple that has not conceived must have either some physical defect, or some mental defect for not wanting to procreate.

So, by becoming pregnant, I further the image and idea of women as carriers of new humans; and further the normality and expectancy of pregnancy in women. So.... Charlie won't be pregnant--at least, for a LONG time!


Charlie on Hetero Penetrative Sex (HPS)

HPS is gross and unfair. As a woman, there is no sex organ (long enough) I can use to penetrate--invade the internal space of--a man's orifice(s). As a woman, I cannot derive the same physicality of pleasure that a man can derive, by sticking a body part into someone else.

There is an invasion of personal space--even if there is consent, in HPS, I as a woman would be receiving the (repeated) entry of another person into the confines of my body.

I guess I want to "level the playing field". There is this sex toy I've seen, the Feeldoe (http://images.google.ca/images?q=feeldoe), used for girl-on-girl penetrative sex. One end goes into the vagina of the penetrating woman, who holds it in place with her muscles. There are little nubbies that ride along her clit (which is the female analogue to the male's head of the penis). The other end goes into the woman to be penetrated, like a penis would in HPS. I like this idea--especially about stimulating the clit, because it simulates (maybe) the feeling of penetration--ie, the nubbies on the clit imitates the sensation that the head of the penis gets from being inserted and withdrawn repeatedly.

Woots.



Thoughts

I used to be mysterious. I used to be so involved in myself that I didn't care about anyone else--and people were drawn to me! I guess I started taking that for granted, because I'm beginning to lose more of myself to others. Well, I was worried I had, but maybe that worry isn't as justified now as it was then.

I used to be such a Scorpio. I don't mind Scorp--except for the crazy sex drive. It drives me nuts sometimes and I need to keep it in check.

But now? I don't know what's happened. After the Summer of Eric, I deconstructed myself and tried to start anew. I don't know how much I rebuilt after tearing down, but it seems to have held so far. I'm a bit wary right now, though, that perhaps the foundation was less sound than I'd thought. It's always hard to.....remake oneself, since we are continually adding new bits, and perhaps even losing old bits.


So, this guy...

So this guy, he's an interesting fellow, something like Neek, but more...compassionate. Neek is a justified asshole. SW is.... he cares.

Hah, I'd mentioned to SW... There's a scene in Heroes where Peter meets Matt for the first time, and Matt tries to read Peter's mind, but Peter starts mimicking his ability and there's this feedback sound like you get with mics. I imagine that's what SW meeting Neek would be like!


SW

I dunno! I've already told him I like him; and he's said he likes me at least a bit more than as a friend... But he doesn't want to get into a relationship until he sorts some stuff out--which I think is noble and honest of him.

But... I dunno?

I feel very comfortable with him--which is good and bad. I trust him entirely too much for not knowing him. And, I guess this is where the "mysterious Charlie" thoughts come in--like, I used to be him. It's pretty freaky. Had I decided that [things] were important to me and decided to pursue them, I might have turned into SW. Crazy!

But that's another thing, he's young--not much younger, mind, but...maybe young enough. And I think I'm sick of waiting for people to grow up. But I'm waiting for....something anyway, so I may as well wait for another thing? I don't know...

Besides the familiar "me" in SW, there's something else familiar about him--something that reminds me of Eric vaguely. Not that SW is necessarily similar to Eric, but something reminds me of him. Argh.


Relationships?

I've been thinking about polygamy again, and--if I'm honest with myself--I can admit that I'm a jealous person. I also enjoy positions of authority and power--not necessarily for the sake of dominating others, but it feels....good within me. Like, "I am a full human being, I am as I am, I am fully myself, I am wholly myself, I satisfy/sustain/fulfil/enjoy myself..." -sort of thing. But I do also enjoy being in positions of power so I can better care for others, and I suppose, for security...

SW is a giver. I am a giver. But I think SW is more practised in giving and enjoys it more than I, so he would hold that position more easily.

Giving is easy--in some respects, I'm talking very generally in terms of what it requires of character to give. Receiving is less easy. Receiving requires grace and...a knack for making the other feel appreciated. I lack grace, generally. About the most graceful I can get is Milonga del Angel (Astor Piazzolla) on a good day and when my fingers are sufficiently warmed-up.

But that skill of receiving is perhaps more useful? In giving, I make the other feel good. In receiving, I can get AND make the other feel good. ...My old self would take advantage of this. Me, I don't know.


I've been sitting on my arse too long. Time to do something else.
--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

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!

Today

Ugh

So, first off, I'm going for my military driver license. This means I'm on course again, yay!

There's this guy from our unit, whom I'd never seen until the start of Driver. Turns out, he farts a lot, and they stink, seriously stink. Seriously. But, whatever, we all have our quirks and I'm sure he's got virtues, too somewhere.

But something weird's happened.

We're now on the second day of Driver. Today was a lot of standing in front of LSVWs, and this guy, we'll call him Fred, kept touching me. I mean things like using my shoulder as an arm rest, nudging me; and he kept staring at me! It was... unnerving (his eyes are too close together and it makes him look a bit cross eyed).

And, we had a break, and I went to the washroom and when I came back, some guys were in one truck and Fred was in the other. I went to talk to the other guys, and they mentioned with an expectant smirk how "lonely" Fred was "all by himself" in the other LS and that maybe I should go keep him company. "I think I'm gonna...not do that," I said and walked away.

Then, after dismissal today, he just strolled up to my locker, which is at the end of our hall and really, there's nothing else important there so he was definitely coming over to see me. He said Hi or something and I returned it with a very confused tone. I dont' think he said anything else, or else it was unmemorable, but he stared and seemed like he was getting ready to say something, but then he just turned around and left. What the hell?!


That kinda reminds me, though...


Dream

I had a dream this morning. I was a male gymnast and on television, I think. Except, it was live. I did some fancy moves and made commentary on them.

Then I explained stretches and ways to relax to the viewers. I did an impressive handstand and then came down and explained how I usually needed to unwind after handstands. Then, my wife or ex-wife or long-time girlfriend appeared and began to stroke my shoulders and arms, and I just melted. It felt amazing, my body just began to shut down and drift.

"Mm," I said to my audience, "but this works, too."

I sat back upright and did a few more impressive moves, and when I finished them, again, she would stroke my shoulders, back, arms; and again I would instantly relax. I began to lay on the ground--and now it was the carpet in the living room--and she ran her hands down the front of my sculpted chest and back up my shoulders.

"Okay, and that's enough for today, good bye, folks!"

And the show ended, and I kissed and stroked her. She had freckles on her arms that seemed to glitter, like they were flakes of crystalline amber or something! Unreal, but pleasant in my dream. Everything just felt so...right, so good, so destined maybe.

I ended up laying in her lap and she just ran her hands lightly over my upper body. It was amazing.


Then I woke up to my angry clock alarm. Boo.

--Charlie!

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

Bikeathon!

Bikeathon

My best friend goes to a Lutheran church, and they have many programs out at Luther Village. It's a campground out by Kenora; it's beautiful country. Last year, he invited me to the annual bikeathon and I rode 80km to raise money for Luther Village.

Click to visit public photo album.

Last year was amazing. I had trained so much; even though it's mostly flat over here, I found a few hills and bridges for training and was on the road at least twice a week. When I realized it was only 25km, I switched to the 80km ride.

This ride starts at the entrance to Luther Village from Highway 71, goes to Bunny Lake for a pit stop (roughly 20km), then continues to Sioux Narrows (roughly another 20km) for lunch; then back to Bunny Lake for another rest, and finishes back at the entrance to Luther Village.


80km Bike Route

All distances and times are approximate. I'm not even sure if the map is entirely accurate; I guessed where Luther Village and Bunny Lake are.

Where	When	Dist	What
Entrance to Luther Village from Highway 71	08:00	n/a	Start point
Bunny Lake	09:00 - 09:30	20km [map]	Rest stop; wait for everyone to arrive; have snacks and power drinks
Sioux Narrows	11:00 - 12:00	20km [map]	Lunch; wait for the 100km riders to arrive; rest
Bunny Lake	13:00	20km	Rest stop; wait for everyone to arrive; have snacks and power drinks
Entrance to Luther Village	14:00	20km	End point; walk back to Luther Village

For the whole route, see this map.


Luther Village

Luther Village is a fantastic place. Most obviously, it is beautiful country; lakes, hills, trees, wildlife, plants, rocks, waters... Absolutely gorgeous.

But there's more!

When I'm there, I don't feel at all judged. Everything is just--"You are here now, and we love you", as though that's all that matters.

I wish I could write more, but it'd get too personal and these aren't my stories to tell. I'll just mention that my best friend also brought his girlfriend, who is going through a lot of issues (if you pray, please pray also for her, her growth, and that her loved ones will be with her and lend her strength), and we all agree this was so good for her.

And it was good for me, too. I needed that exercise, and the time to clear my head.

Will add more later...
--Charlie!


Some Photos

More...

075: (abandoned)

Work

So it's been a while. I got another job, selling knives this time. I started on 17 May, and already I'm quitting.

Started off okay; they have brilliant marketing and training strategies. And, I mean, sure, it's a great job, for some people. Just not me.

Reasons I am quitting Vector:

• I don't have a cell phone;
  
• I don't have a driving license;
  
• I don't have access to a vehicle;
  
• At some point, it becomes dangerous for a tiny Asian girl to wear business casual and take public transit to the North End to sell knives;
  
• Had I a driving license and access to a vehicle, I am averse paying for fuel
  
• I like office/predictable hours;
  
• I need to be me--I need to be an artist (this job is infringing on my ability to be an artist);
  
• I feel as though I am being manipulated through this job--which I am and will be for most any job, but it also feels wrong in my gut; and
  
• I don't like the way it goes through people I know.

Today was my last day. I hand in my papers tomorrow.


Sexuality

I'm trying to figure out which I prefer: men or women. I mean, women have things most men don't--like a good sense of both personal hygiene and bodily responsibility, and attractive breasts--and men have things women usually don't--like facial hair and work-hardened skin.

I'm wondering. I like Kevin--entirely too much--but there are so many times I think to myself, "If only he were a woman."

I'm wondering about one of my close friends who came out as bisexual recently and is now in several open-relationships.

I guess I'm wondering about monogamy. Is it acceptance of human ability to satisfy, versus human desire? I mean, I think a lot of us want more than we can fulfill.

Someone has said of me, "You never can be just one thing, can you!" I guess it's true.

I'm wondering if polygamy is fair. A lot of people want to be the only person (romantically) in another's life--want to "be everything" to someone. Is that naive, or is it optimistic? I think it's a bit of both.

Is polygamy then cynical, or is it practical? "Not one person can satisfy all my needs, so I'll go with multiple people." Is it an excuse? "It's not you, it's me. I just can't be satisfied this way." Yes, I think it can be an excuse sometimes.

I think "Celibate Polygamy" is my word of the day.


Kevin

I'm thinking maybe I've freaked Kevin out a little.

I'm kind of aggressive--at least, the last few guys I liked, I went after them more aggressively--so maybe my phoning and badgering and running my fingertips up the nape of his neck kinda scared Kevin off. Okay! So Charlie is scary and imposing and aggressive and needs to give Kevin some space. Got it!

On the other hand...

Last time he was over, I was running about, trying to finish up my work. So he made himself comfortable laying on the edge of my bed. And he's started making sex/penis jokes, which is an entirely unexpected first! (For example: while playing Settlers of Catan, he managed to make "wood" jokes.) Welcome? Maybe, maybe.

Maybe I'm just giving meaning to events. Actually, I am definitely giving meaning to events, but perhaps they're wrong or perhaps I believe too strongly in them. Like when he initiated physical contact with me for the second time ever. Is that a sign? Maybe? Probably not! Things only fit so well in retrospect. If we end up going together, that will look as a landmark; if we don't, I will forget it ever happened.


Analysis

Why do I like Kevin? --And I mean that in the best way possible.

He doesn't scan or study or judge me--or if he does, it's not on a conscious level. This alone would probably be enough! I'm not sure if I mentioned before, but the day I got my "very" short haircut, he was the first to see it, and he said nothing. No "I like your hair" or "You got your hair cut!" bullshit, nothing. I loved it.

Something in my gut tells me he's a person who is...changing / moving / not-still inside. Or maybe it's more like waterwheel perfectly balanced and awaiting the one drop that will make it spin forward. I'm a little scared to lead/push him the wrong way. I want him to be his own person and carve his own path, but I want to see where he goes--both out of curiosity and because he means something to me.

I guess, tied to the above, he's new ground to me. I've never met someone like him, and I love that. It's both my...cerebral curiosity and my..."soul" curiosity. He himself said he realized just how young he is and how this is the time to explore and make mistakes.



[post abandoned]

Kevin?

Post abandoned from 5-May-2008
Kevin

Went for a long walk with Kevin today, maybe 10km, outdoors; talked.

Both he and I have realized how young we are--that this, now, is the time to make mistakes and have adventures. There's something....interesting, I dunno, about him.

I dunno if it means anything, but he started quoting The Simpsons: "...an enigma wrapped in a mystery" and I finished, "wrapped in a vest" and he said, "High-five!" This would be the second time he's initiated physical contact--the first time being at a film festival downtown when he hugged me in thanks for coming.

And while I'm mentioning things that are probably meaningless, he also asked me what my plans are for the summer.


I feel weird; I felt weird with Kevin. After walking, we went back to his place for some water and a bit more conversation, then I went home. I still have difficulty looking at people when i talk tot hem. Same with typing, I think. I type faster and better when I'm not looking at the screen--generally.

We have something......strange?


We walked by a park and decided to cut across. "Let's be naughty," Kevin said in a 'proper' British accent, and I said, "Well, when you put it that way...!" He laughed sharply and replied; "Of all the things to be considered naughty, walking through a field is probably the lamest!" I'm not sure why he said that--if it was to play innocent, or if he really meant it.


Saturday 10-May-2008

Went for another jog with Mark; only did about 3 km tonight because his ankle hurt. Then we went for food.

We talked. We also talked about Kevin. Mark recommends I stop speculating and actually "test the waters". I'm inclined to agree.

Mark asked what I even wanted to do "to" Kevin. Mostly, I want to cuddle.

"Do you want to have sex with him?"

My ideas about sex and what it is--they're probably very different from most other people's ideas! I've probably mentioned it before, but to me, "sex" is "sexy things", and by that definition, I've had "sex" with three people--though I kinda don't think one of them should count because it wasn't enjoyable on this side.

Anyway.

Scissoring is probably the greatest / hottest sex act ever, in my humble opinion. I told Mark that's what I'd probably end up wanting to "do to" Kevin.

I'm going to put my finger in the palm of his hand and see what happens. Well, maybe not yet.

I want to tell him he's beautiful; I like his hair and the way it's thick and rough; the way he can turn his smile off and on like a switch; the way he likes politeness and defaults to it all the time; I want to see what he sees; to feel his thoughts and know the reactions that spark within him as I run my fingers down his chest, along his shoulders and up the column of his neck. I want to hear his breathing and feel the heaving of his chest as we lay against eachother in half sleep. I want to take a walk with him in some open field, then race him to the other side, and tackle him to the ground when he wins.

Sigh.

But, at the same time, I'm not sure if I want these things. I mean, even though he's said he's realized how young he is and that this now is the time to be adventurous and make mistakes, I just don't know. I don't know if it's worth it.

I could have a totally awesome, meaningful and long-lasting relationship.
I could have a pretty great relationship and find out that we're just not meant to be, but we get over it and move on, learning from the whole experience.
I could totally botch this up and ruin both our futures.
I could totally botch this up and ruin just one of our futures...

Who knows!

--Charlie!