I've only ever felt that way with John and Bobby. "The pain in your soul was the same as the one in mine." My entire life, John and Bobby are the only men where I just felt like I recognized in each of them a kindred spirit. And, well, neither worked out.
And when Bobby wrote me this week, and it is clear he's fucking women he doesn't love, and it feels like we could truly love each other. We could be ballasts, letting the other dream taller.
I know it isn't about me. But I feel like if I were somehow different, Bobby would want to give it a try. Or maybe it is about me. I don't understand how it is possible to glimpse a kindred soul and not give it a try. But maybe Bobby didn't feel that.
Fuck, I'm crying just thinking about it. And I have a date with Nate this afternoon. And he is seeming more and more sweet. And we'd be sexually compatible, that is quite clear. And we have similar life goals. And I'm comparing him to Bobby. Which is hilarious, because Nate seems to actually want to have a relationship and he lives walking distance from me, and he clearly sees in my both the girl he could fuck until the paint cracked and the woman he could bring home to meet his mother and his daughter. If I compare him to Bobby, it should make Nate look fantastic. And yet, it makes me feel like Nate is great on paper, but he isn't a kindred soul. But maybe he'll become one? Maybe we'll start to talk about the stuff under the surface? He is clearly spiritual, and I'm not (which he knows and didn't disappear).
Or maybe I'm enough of a freak that I'll never meet another one. How do I dream smaller?
It is was funny--Nate asked the last time I fooled around with a man, It was Bobby, of course. But I qualified it as "messed around with clothes on? Or off." Bobby touched me so much more deeply. Fortunately, I gave the dates and Nate did not ask the details.
This all is completely unfair to Nate. Nate seems like a great guy.
Why does recognizing that "the pain in your soul is the same as the pain in mine" so important to me? What about not having that aching pain deep inside. Maybe not being fucked up would be better than articulating the ways I'm fucked up. But I am fucked up. And not being able to go there with someone (or not knowing how) means that I never quite feel real in a relationship until I can go there.
If Nate and I do work out, I think I'll quit blogging for a bit. It seems somehow wrong to blog about him, about how I feel about sex, and keep that from him. And I don't see how I could share something like this with him, which of course means I don't see how I could have this part of me understood and accepted by him. Of course, maybe this part of me could come out through gentle, after-morning-sex conversations. I don't know. But I've never been able to articulate face-to-face as easily as I can in writing.
Maybe if Nate and I fool around in the next couple of weeks, my plan to actually get over Bobby will work. Or maybe Bobby will decide he wants to risk being hurt and have a go. Which seems about as likely as Hugh Jackman leaving his wife and picking me.
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