Saturday, December 10, 2011
Thin Ice
Well, Bobby and I have agreed to exchange writing. Once a month. I think this actually could be great. I can't be his friend, and I have to be careful, but if we could both support the other in or writing, that would be great. I might actually get my romance novel published if a guy is willing to read it! And Bobby write beautifully. (I suppose it is no surprise that I tend to be attracted to men who write beautifully.) He hasn't followed through on his projects (I think he is as bad, or worse, than I am. At least when I distract and numb myself out, it is at my computer so I get a tiny bit done. He distracts and numbs in far more interesting ways, but perchance less productive.)
I was talking with Dotty last night about her decision to move. I could have kept her from going; but it would have meant betraying our friendship by lying to her. She's scared. She doesn't want to move. Not as scared as I am to face life without her. And being Dotty, she could tell I'm down and was trying to be helpful--what did I need: A vacation? Yes, but I gave up my chance for a vacation before Easter to help her move. I couldn't tell her that.
I told her that my talent was smaller than my ambition. And she said "that isn't true--what do you want to do?" And I told her "be president of the United States or star in a Broadway show, of fall madly in love and get married and have kids" and she said "is that really the best match for your talents." It's funny--I had to tell a kid at a place I volunteer that he couldn't be president when he grew up, because he wasn't born in this country. And here is my best friend telling me I can't be president, which I already knew. But if I could start getting some of my stuff published, it might fill the chasm. In addition to the romance novel, I have several boring industry pieces I want to write. And maybe an autobiography (although not about the stuff here--I've actually fantasized about a publisher approaching me to put this into book form, but I doubt that will happen). And sometimes I think that John and my correspondence would make a really compelling book. I don't know if that is hubris on my part. But I think it is pretty interesting stuff. That would, of course, have to be anonymous.
So, exchanging writing with Bobby would be really good. That said, I have to be careful. I can't allow myself to fall for Bobby more than the residual falling that is already there. I think Bobby likes to be liked. (Who doesn't?) He can't try to pull me in. We have to keep a healthy, professional distance.
I was talking with Dotty last night about her decision to move. I could have kept her from going; but it would have meant betraying our friendship by lying to her. She's scared. She doesn't want to move. Not as scared as I am to face life without her. And being Dotty, she could tell I'm down and was trying to be helpful--what did I need: A vacation? Yes, but I gave up my chance for a vacation before Easter to help her move. I couldn't tell her that.
I told her that my talent was smaller than my ambition. And she said "that isn't true--what do you want to do?" And I told her "be president of the United States or star in a Broadway show, of fall madly in love and get married and have kids" and she said "is that really the best match for your talents." It's funny--I had to tell a kid at a place I volunteer that he couldn't be president when he grew up, because he wasn't born in this country. And here is my best friend telling me I can't be president, which I already knew. But if I could start getting some of my stuff published, it might fill the chasm. In addition to the romance novel, I have several boring industry pieces I want to write. And maybe an autobiography (although not about the stuff here--I've actually fantasized about a publisher approaching me to put this into book form, but I doubt that will happen). And sometimes I think that John and my correspondence would make a really compelling book. I don't know if that is hubris on my part. But I think it is pretty interesting stuff. That would, of course, have to be anonymous.
So, exchanging writing with Bobby would be really good. That said, I have to be careful. I can't allow myself to fall for Bobby more than the residual falling that is already there. I think Bobby likes to be liked. (Who doesn't?) He can't try to pull me in. We have to keep a healthy, professional distance.
Thursday, December 8, 2011
"Let's be friends...."
So I was talking with a guy who doesn't live nearby (and doesn't live commuting distance like Bobby) and I told him I couldn't move because of my work. He started talking nonsense and I said something like "why would you assume that I would quit my job--why couldn't you move here" and he said "you're right--if we hit it off,...." so I talked to him on the phone and within 10 minutes he wants me to say if we hit it off, I'd quit my job and move to Florida! To top it all off, he's unemployed! He wants me to quit my job, and my health insurance and my pension, after I told him why it was unlikely I'd get another, similar paying job, because he'd take care of me, when he can't take care of himself! He is studying to get a real estate licence in Florida, because he's sure the market will pick up. Seriously! I got really annoyed, really quickly and basically told him if he couldn't respect what I'm interested in enough to not talk casually about me giving it up, we weren't right. And he was like "Let's be friends" and I said no, told him not to waste my time, and got off the phone.
Why does every man I meet on CM want to be friends?
And why am I so resistant to it? With Dotty leaving (and it is official that Dotty is leaving), I could use a really good friend. But not someone I want to date.
For one thing, being friends, for me, is a lifelong commitment. There is only one friend I've ever broken up with, and that was because, for years, we were 'best friends' and used each other to fill the space that could have been a romantic relationship. He would talk to me, for hours, about how no woman found him attractive, when he knew I did. The funny thing is, when we first met, after about 6 months, I wished that I could fall for him, because I was never attracted to men like that, and I wanted to be. He is the only man I've ever grown to be romantically interested in. I've don't know that I'll ever be able to pull of the trick of falling for a man that I'm not initially attracted to. (I should mention, we were totally incompatible; he spoke disparagingly of kink on several occasions, but I was willing to give that up and have an erotic life in my head. That may have been impossible, but I figured I could.)
But if I agree to be someone's friend, that is a major commitment on my part. That is a "I will always be there for you no matter what and if things are hard, I will work through our relationship."
With Bobby, I can't be his friend because I would always want him to change. I wouldn't be happy being his platonic friend. I would hope he would fall for me, the way he had for his ex. (He told me about his ex when we met and I took it to mean "I did the long-distance thing once, and I could do it again." He didn't mean it that way, but I didn't realize it until later. It actually felt like he was addressing my concerns (he had said he would have had a family with her, which was also important to me). Every time he talked about his ex, I thought like he was telling me that he was ready for a relationship.) And his rejection of me, no matter the grounds, would eat away at my self-esteem. I would give him little parts of me and then there wouldn't be anything left for a romantic relationship.
Furthermore, there were a couple of brief windows when friendship might have been a possibility, but the first time he totally seduced me and the second time he kept flirting. And, of course, I wanted him to flirt.
At the moment, I'm scared I'll never have a romantic relationship again. And if I'm going to die a lonely old maid, I should at least have Bobby as a friend. But, I just can't accept I'll never find what I want. There is still a chance. Hell, Nate is too busy at the moment (for very good reason), but he hasn't blown me off. I can't give up on the possibility of a partner. And being Bobby's friend would be giving up on that.
It's funny. I know Bobby reads this. And I could never say any of this to his face. My grandma once told me "a lady always laughs at a gentleman's jokes" and in direct communication, I'm just naturally conciliatory and I try to be gracious. But this is my space, and here, well, honesty is the only currency I have. Bobby wouldn't read this if he wasn't curious. He chooses to. And somehow, I couldn't imagine not being open here. I would like to imagine not being so conciliatory with people to their faces. I could be very brusque with the Florida guy because I felt like he had been very dismissive of me, and because I'd never allowed him past my initial defenses. I think maybe if I were a little better at standing up for myself, I wouldn't have to be so careful with who I allow into my life.
Why does every man I meet on CM want to be friends?
And why am I so resistant to it? With Dotty leaving (and it is official that Dotty is leaving), I could use a really good friend. But not someone I want to date.
For one thing, being friends, for me, is a lifelong commitment. There is only one friend I've ever broken up with, and that was because, for years, we were 'best friends' and used each other to fill the space that could have been a romantic relationship. He would talk to me, for hours, about how no woman found him attractive, when he knew I did. The funny thing is, when we first met, after about 6 months, I wished that I could fall for him, because I was never attracted to men like that, and I wanted to be. He is the only man I've ever grown to be romantically interested in. I've don't know that I'll ever be able to pull of the trick of falling for a man that I'm not initially attracted to. (I should mention, we were totally incompatible; he spoke disparagingly of kink on several occasions, but I was willing to give that up and have an erotic life in my head. That may have been impossible, but I figured I could.)
But if I agree to be someone's friend, that is a major commitment on my part. That is a "I will always be there for you no matter what and if things are hard, I will work through our relationship."
With Bobby, I can't be his friend because I would always want him to change. I wouldn't be happy being his platonic friend. I would hope he would fall for me, the way he had for his ex. (He told me about his ex when we met and I took it to mean "I did the long-distance thing once, and I could do it again." He didn't mean it that way, but I didn't realize it until later. It actually felt like he was addressing my concerns (he had said he would have had a family with her, which was also important to me). Every time he talked about his ex, I thought like he was telling me that he was ready for a relationship.) And his rejection of me, no matter the grounds, would eat away at my self-esteem. I would give him little parts of me and then there wouldn't be anything left for a romantic relationship.
Furthermore, there were a couple of brief windows when friendship might have been a possibility, but the first time he totally seduced me and the second time he kept flirting. And, of course, I wanted him to flirt.
At the moment, I'm scared I'll never have a romantic relationship again. And if I'm going to die a lonely old maid, I should at least have Bobby as a friend. But, I just can't accept I'll never find what I want. There is still a chance. Hell, Nate is too busy at the moment (for very good reason), but he hasn't blown me off. I can't give up on the possibility of a partner. And being Bobby's friend would be giving up on that.
It's funny. I know Bobby reads this. And I could never say any of this to his face. My grandma once told me "a lady always laughs at a gentleman's jokes" and in direct communication, I'm just naturally conciliatory and I try to be gracious. But this is my space, and here, well, honesty is the only currency I have. Bobby wouldn't read this if he wasn't curious. He chooses to. And somehow, I couldn't imagine not being open here. I would like to imagine not being so conciliatory with people to their faces. I could be very brusque with the Florida guy because I felt like he had been very dismissive of me, and because I'd never allowed him past my initial defenses. I think maybe if I were a little better at standing up for myself, I wouldn't have to be so careful with who I allow into my life.
Moon Change
I had one of those crying fits today that I used to have all the time. The kind where I have to turn on my brain and tell myself to breathe because I'm crying so hard I start to hyperventilate. I was in the shower at the gym and got shampoo in my mouth and my eyes.
I was listening to Caroline or Change (which I do often--all of the songs on my 'most played list of my iPod, except for "Bad Romance," are from Caroline or Change or Passing Strange), but I don't usually listen at the gym, and all of the sudden I realized I envied Caroline, which of course is the most ridiculous thing. I have so much privilege, such an easier life. I don't have to deal with constant racism and I don't have to work as a maid for a condescending white family. Only a white girl who hasn't dealt with all that could overlook all that.
But Caroline has people that care about her. When the show came out in 2004, I was at probably the worst point in my life since being a teenager. And when Dotty sings:
I haven't spoken to my dad for nearly a month, and he hasn't even noticed. And honestly, if I died tomorrow, there aren't that many people that would care. My cats. My mom. That's about it. I mean, sure, my neighbors would notice. And they'd use it as a good lesson for their kids about death. It would be a good lesson because the kids wouldn't actually care.
I think of my emotions as being very on the surface. I expect someone at the gym realized I was crying in the shower. Maybe. And maybe people were just being nice and giving me my space. One time, last year, I was on the bus and just lost it about John and started sobbing, but completely quietly, but racking sobs, with my whole body shaking, and I was trapped--I couldn't get off the bus. And almost no one noticed. And then a nice lady brought me a tissue. She gave me my space, but gave me a tissue. It was actually nicer than a tissue--like a nice, thick, high-quality disposable napkin--the kind rich people put in their bathrooms for their guests. I kept it for months, because it was one of the nicest things someone had done for me in months. Isn't that pathetic?
But while I feel my emotions are very on the surface, I think they aren't. Aside from this blog, I'm pretty self-contained. I don't know what to make of the dichotomy. I desperately want someone that I could share that part of me, and also romantically. But maybe that is just asking for too much.
I was listening to Caroline or Change (which I do often--all of the songs on my 'most played list of my iPod, except for "Bad Romance," are from Caroline or Change or Passing Strange), but I don't usually listen at the gym, and all of the sudden I realized I envied Caroline, which of course is the most ridiculous thing. I have so much privilege, such an easier life. I don't have to deal with constant racism and I don't have to work as a maid for a condescending white family. Only a white girl who hasn't dealt with all that could overlook all that.
But Caroline has people that care about her. When the show came out in 2004, I was at probably the worst point in my life since being a teenager. And when Dotty sings:
I just wanted one person in my life to notice that I'd lost my light at that point. Someone to care enough to notice. Somehow or other, I've managed to get back some of that light. But my best friend, my Dotty, the only person that notices little things in my life, is leaving for 2 years, and lets be honest, she may not come back.Once you were quick
And once you were bright
Now it seems you've come to some confusion
You're losing courage
You're losing light
Lost your shine.
Lost Caroline.
I haven't spoken to my dad for nearly a month, and he hasn't even noticed. And honestly, if I died tomorrow, there aren't that many people that would care. My cats. My mom. That's about it. I mean, sure, my neighbors would notice. And they'd use it as a good lesson for their kids about death. It would be a good lesson because the kids wouldn't actually care.
I think of my emotions as being very on the surface. I expect someone at the gym realized I was crying in the shower. Maybe. And maybe people were just being nice and giving me my space. One time, last year, I was on the bus and just lost it about John and started sobbing, but completely quietly, but racking sobs, with my whole body shaking, and I was trapped--I couldn't get off the bus. And almost no one noticed. And then a nice lady brought me a tissue. She gave me my space, but gave me a tissue. It was actually nicer than a tissue--like a nice, thick, high-quality disposable napkin--the kind rich people put in their bathrooms for their guests. I kept it for months, because it was one of the nicest things someone had done for me in months. Isn't that pathetic?
But while I feel my emotions are very on the surface, I think they aren't. Aside from this blog, I'm pretty self-contained. I don't know what to make of the dichotomy. I desperately want someone that I could share that part of me, and also romantically. But maybe that is just asking for too much.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
A Boy Like That (updated)
Well, regular readers will probably know I've been wanting to get over Bobby. I could, intellectually, say all the reasons. But "I hear those words And in my head I know they're smart, But my heart."
Bobby saw the parts of me that I thought were unique. The parts I cared about. There was an intellectual connection and he also really understood how I ticked erotically.
And today, we were texting and I realized that he was getting a blow job from someone else while he was texting me. (He is quite the multi-tasker--he was also texting someone else about the blow job.)
Truly impressive.
So I cried and felt shitty, and then, I think, that's that. Let him go, Connie. Let him go. Clearly, Bobby never saw me as unique and cherishable. He liked my intellect, but that's that. He never liked me enough to actually want to try and make something work.
I want to figure out how to both protect myself and not be bitter or hard. That is the hard one.
Update: I've been informed that I misread the situation and while Bobby was multi-tasking when we were talking, none of the other activities involved sex.
Tuesday, December 6, 2011
The ugly duckling
Originally, I had intended to title this blog The Ugly Duckling (and I have the URL for that here--but I haven't posted on it).
Bobby said something like "you could have been married 10 years ago" and I was floored that he thought that.
I go back and forth, wondering if my life is something that belongs in a Chekhov play or a Jane Austen novel. If it is Jane Austen, then I can handle anything. But if I'm just waiting to die alone in an empty house, like a broken string, well, I guess I'll be dead. But the fear of that makes me cry.
Men didn't really have any interest in me at all until about 6 years ago. In 2001, men were interested in me for about 3 months, and then I didn't handle 9-11 well, and that came crashing down, and then finally in 2005, I quit a prestigious job I thought I wanted and moved back to the Puget Sound and wham--men became interested in me. I've dated pretty steadily since then. Part of it was losing quite a bit of weight, and part of it was quitting a job where I was always trying to prove myself. I do sometimes feel like I wasted my youth on an education. I do date steadily but I started very, very late.
I'm not proud of this, but I police my face for any sign of wrinkles. I know they are coming. I moisturize and use sun screen like it was a religion. I don't quite understand why men became interested in me so instantly in August of 2005, and I feel like it could disappear
Looking at it, I don't understand what is wrong with me. Why is it so hard for me to find what so many others find so effortlessly. Maybe it isn't effortless, but they find it. And there's always something that keeps me from having a partner. I've tried and tried to figure out what is wrong with me. But right now, I sort of think there isn't anything wrong with me. I'm too picky, but I've also had bad luck. I haven't met the right person. Maybe I'll find it. My best friend is so amazing and she's single too. In fact, all of my female friends who have doctorates of any kind or published books are single (and that defines all my female friends but one). I can't believe they'll all end up alone. And, for the most part, they dated more than me before 2005, but I date more than them now. Who knows.
I just ache for a soul mate. My whole body cleaves to the absence. If I ever did fall in love with someone who was in love with me, I would fight for that so hard. I mean, I think John was in love with me, but the whole ask-if-this-is-for-keeps-and-borrow-my-ring-and-forget-about-it was a mind fuck. And getting my ring back at his funeral, and his family clearly thought we were engaged. Another mind fuck.
Bobby and I talked a little today. I don't know why I allowed him to get so close to me. He said he thought I understood that geography was an "intransigent mistress" which sounds like something I probably said. But then he seduced me. And I kept trying to give him outs. I said something like "if we get involved, you'd need to train me gently" and said "I already am." And we had these great phone conversations every night. And, of course, he told me to think of him every time I played with myself, which I worked hard to do--my mind tends to flit around from image to image, mostly from the Beauty books and Safe Word. (Anne Rice's Beauty Books and Molly Weatherfield's Safe Word are my favorite naughty books.)
And all of a sudden, my soul oriented towards how we could make it work. I assumed that I'd be doing most of the travelling. I work from home on Sundays, so I could come up Friday afternoon and leave Tuesday morning. I didn't mind if I was the one on Greyhound, as long as he gave me projects (linked to my work and my goals, but things I'd procrastinate on) for the bus rides.
I can only imagine how hard I would have fought for an 'us' if there had been an 'us' to fight for.
I'm a Scorpio, Scorpio rising. 5 planets in fire and none in earth. (And yes, I believe in that stuff.) I am so loyal to the people I love. No matter what they do, I love them so much. I've never cheated on anyone, and I can't imagine cheating on someone I could fall in love with.
Bobby wants me to be friends, and I keep trying to stop comparing Nate to Bobby. And keep trying to figure out how the fuck I could compare Nate to Bobby and not have that make Nate look fabulous. But I can't seem to fall for Nate. I wish I could make myself, but I can't. Bobby is one of the only 2 men I've met that I could seem myself falling in love with. And that is so fucking stupid. So fucking stupid. Of course, Nate and I haven't had sex yet. Maybe that will make me fall in love. But right now, being with Nate is fine. My body enjoys it. But my soul is unengaged.
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Constance or Change
This American Life last week, Nobody's Family is Going To Change, looked at how, basically, families don't change. And when they do change, it is for the worse.
My family had, no my family has a religion of change. Personal growth. Relationship counseling. Hell, when I have a fight with a parent, I have the family shrink on speed dial.
And I want everyone to change. I want Barack Obama to stand up to the Republicans. Oprah should do a show again (not that I ever watched it, but I have clients that miss it). Hell, Santa Claus, well Santa should have better control over his image and not allow people to use him to sell everything from soda to binge drinking.
Most of my family (except my mom) should stop criticizing me. But my dad should chill on the reasons I'm wanting to criticize him (even though I keep my mouth shut). Nate should be a little more dominant with me, and start to make me a priority. And be emotionally open. Or Bobby should decide he wants a romantic partner within the parameters of what I can live with. Oh, and that partner should be me. My ex should join 2 12-step programs (and sometimes I think Bobby should as well). My best friend, well she's perfect. But she should stay here. Maine is so very, very far away. My cats should whine and shed less and snuggle more, but not when I'm in nice clothes. And John, well, John should exist in some, what, parallel universe? Afterlife? That's it. An afterlife. I want John to be in some spirit form in an afterlife. And I want him to be really, truly loved. And I want him to feel that in his bones. And sometimes I pray for that. I pray to my dead grandma to watch over him. I pray to John to be open and loving to my grandma. I pray to the God that I don't believe in. I want John to feel unconditional love. I can't even leave the dead alone.
And me. Well, there's many ways I'm working on changing me. I don't always succeed, but I seem to make improvements. And the striving seems, to me, to help me stay alive and vital.
I assume also that I'll change for the person I'm with. Of course. Being a submissive just means that. But I also assume that I have rough edges and I'll do my best to soften for someone I love. That, of course, is predicated on him having the willingness to help me soften those edges. And that he will do the same for me. But, unlike Caroline, Connie can change.
My family had, no my family has a religion of change. Personal growth. Relationship counseling. Hell, when I have a fight with a parent, I have the family shrink on speed dial.
And I want everyone to change. I want Barack Obama to stand up to the Republicans. Oprah should do a show again (not that I ever watched it, but I have clients that miss it). Hell, Santa Claus, well Santa should have better control over his image and not allow people to use him to sell everything from soda to binge drinking.
Most of my family (except my mom) should stop criticizing me. But my dad should chill on the reasons I'm wanting to criticize him (even though I keep my mouth shut). Nate should be a little more dominant with me, and start to make me a priority. And be emotionally open. Or Bobby should decide he wants a romantic partner within the parameters of what I can live with. Oh, and that partner should be me. My ex should join 2 12-step programs (and sometimes I think Bobby should as well). My best friend, well she's perfect. But she should stay here. Maine is so very, very far away. My cats should whine and shed less and snuggle more, but not when I'm in nice clothes. And John, well, John should exist in some, what, parallel universe? Afterlife? That's it. An afterlife. I want John to be in some spirit form in an afterlife. And I want him to be really, truly loved. And I want him to feel that in his bones. And sometimes I pray for that. I pray to my dead grandma to watch over him. I pray to John to be open and loving to my grandma. I pray to the God that I don't believe in. I want John to feel unconditional love. I can't even leave the dead alone.
And me. Well, there's many ways I'm working on changing me. I don't always succeed, but I seem to make improvements. And the striving seems, to me, to help me stay alive and vital.
I assume also that I'll change for the person I'm with. Of course. Being a submissive just means that. But I also assume that I have rough edges and I'll do my best to soften for someone I love. That, of course, is predicated on him having the willingness to help me soften those edges. And that he will do the same for me. But, unlike Caroline, Connie can change.
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