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| Why is it that after breaking up with the person you thought (and still think) the most perfect guy you'll ever meet, the best you can hope for is a kind of numb feeling, instead of actually getting over him?
I thought I was doing pretty well--I met a boy and went on a few dates, and we acted like we were dating each other. But he tried too often and hard to kiss me, and he considered me quiet and distant. Although he was handsome, there was no chemisty, and I found myself comparing him to Gregg. It's hard not to, when he's the one that taught you to cook, be handy around the house, and to nestle right into his chest.
This is the second week that I haven't gone to Church. He got me going, and I actually started to like it. The bad thing is that there are two reasons I want to keep going: to see the service, and to let him see that I wasn't being a good Christian boy just for him. Am I getting over him to get over him? Or am I getting over him to be hard to get?
And then I see that he's online, and my heart stops. | | |
| So...I got sick of being a "friend with semi-benefits" while around him and a wreck while away.
So I told him that I've been waiting.
He told me that I was too into him and that even if he does like me a little, he's not in the right place for a relationship.
I cried for the first time in a while, had a quiet weekend home with the family, and am reapproaching life tomorrow.
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| It's been one of those nights.
I haven't seen him since Wednesday night, because he's been up north with his family. I'm so good at not texting him and acting like we're not in a relationship when we're apart (he is the equivalent of a scared horse, after all), but I've been sad and alone without him. He has consumed my last few weekends, so when he was gone, I stayed home...and did nothing but watch Sex and the City.
I ended up going grocery shopping to avoid going crazy. And, sure enough as such distractions often do, a friend called me to hang out and have some girl talk. She diagnosed me as being "happy" and "in love," which made the situation nothing but worse.
I'm picking him up at the airport tomorrow, because after all, "what are friends for?" | | |
| So, I've realized that if I don't write anything down, nothing will be left of me upon my demise.
Basically, I'm in love with a man who is afraid to love. He has been in three engagements that were broken off for reasons I still don't know, and he has a terrible fear of hurting people. In fact, before I even met him, on AIM he warned me that he is called a heartbreaker, because time after time boys get attached to him, and although he genuinely cares for them, he "does not or cannot reciprocate." He warned me that if we met up, it would NOT be a date, because his goal is to figure me out COMPLETELY before making it a date or adding the romance.
We spent hours discussing this, and it hurt a little because I realized how far on the other side of the spectrum I had been--and I was painfully single. I had never been picky, beyond cute looks and sweet personality. I had been accustomed to going on a date for the first time with someone, and perhaps ending up cuddling with them the same night. It doesn't matter if you have sex or not--he told me that I was opening myself up too early, and not really getting to know them before deciding if they're the right person for you to date or not.
Our first date was to hike a mountain. I got in his car, and we had decent conversation, but nothing amazing. I noticed that he looked a little better than the picture, but as we talked more and more, I realized that one eye was incredibly blue and one was a rich brown that had the potential to morph from green to blue, to brown. He seemed to be the exact kind of guy I needed--he was the walk barefoot, drive a broken down jeep, with your hair flying in the breeze--of course he'd have one blue eye.
The hike went swimmingly. We chatted up and down and before we knew it, the hike was done. I wanted to hike the other side of the mountain, but he said it'd take hours to get back to the car. He told me that we COULD go get a sample of his favorite dessert at my favorite restaurant [see? great conversation], Cracker Barrel. We went to get a quick dessert, and we talked forever...again. He became friends with the waitress and showed me his way to enchant people with mellow, carefree conversation. Unfortunately, we had to head out because he told me of a dinner with his friends that he couldn't get out of.
He got out of it. I didn't realize until I got home. We decided that dinner and a movie at his place would be fun.
What came in the next 2 months was a whirlwind of what you'd expect to hear from a diehard romantic who's in love with a rugged Frenchman. We've made dinner dozens of times, watched dozens of movies, and he shown me how to do dozens of things. Change transmission fluid, change the lights in my car, unblock clogged pipes, COOK ANYTHING, and drive a stickshift. I came from a family that was pretty well-off and never had to do the dirty work, so I had no idea how to do any of these things. Up do date, we've made a big-ass omelette with everything imaginable in it, chicken marsala to die for, and multiple breakfasts. He supports my coffee addiction, and even if we're in a rush, he sneaks downstairs in just enough time to turn on the coffeemaker.
The problem is that since he's afraid of hurting someone, he avoids getting into relationships with them, period. He's always said that he's not "against a relationship, but leery to get into one." He somehow believes that we're just friends, but does everything that a boyfriend would do--lead me up the stairs in the dark, light candles and seat me on the side closer to the warm fireplace, play NPR while we cook because he knows I love it, dig through his garage to lend me a GPS he knows I so blondely need...EVERYTHING he does makes my heart melt.
I've realized that his best friend is a good friend of mine, and he's started telling me the inside story. He really likes me, says that "he hasn't felt this way" since his ex, and likes me but is not trying to. He doesn't know what to do about me because he's afraid he's going to hurt me. His best friend told me that the weird thing about my guy is that he's fanatical about the chase--doing wildly romantic things and being SUPER sweet. He told me that although he is super romantic, it's just his personality, and not necessarily how he feels about me. The best solution is to resist, and to be distant enough that he can continue chasing me until he knows enough about me to make the relationship into something else. DO NOT GET CLOSE TO HIM. HE WILL MAKE THE MOVE. IF IT BECOMES SOMETHING SERIOUS, LET HIM DECIDE TO DO IT.
I became a master of being hard to get. And that's where I am today. He has cut off the "benefits," which shows me that he's even more worthwhile for me to wait for. My current dilemma is that he still thinks of me, or calls me, a friend, and I want to be content being his friend. When we're together, we cook up a storm and dig up our own Christmas trees. And when I'm with him, I'm in a whirlwind of spontaneity and romance that every little gay boy dreams of. When he takes me to bed, he does anything he can to help me sleep, and asks what he can do to help. We've both remarked that our bodies are like puzzle pieces that fit perfectly together. When our chests press together, they make pooting noises, and when we have sex [which is very rare now], we both feel that it's the best sex we have EVER had. When I leave, however, he texts me using words like "Dawg" and says hello maybe two times per week.
Dawg?
How do you force yourself to be content being someone's friend when you know they're your perfect match but don't want to secretly be "waiting" for someone who's afraid to love? | | |
| Is it possible to become so comfortable with women, when your job is to make them look sexy, to be genuinely scared when their boyfriends are standing there in a huddle, looking at you like an alien? Why does that make me feel so much like an outsider? One of my acquaintances once said, "No
one can make you feel inferior without your consent..../ ...Who are you
to judge the life I live... I know I'm not perfect and don't try to be.
But before you start pointing fingers make sure your own hands are
clean."
Because these men do not have permission to make me feel like an alien and to laugh at me like a specimen, I make an effort to treat them just like any other guest into the store and smile. Ask them if they are finding everything ok. Don't be scared.
It just hurts when you are the representative of a brand, just standing in the front of a store, and you see people walk by, look at you, and then look at each other and laugh. Am I an alien? I'm becoming heterophobic, if there is such a fear. I'm fearing what the world around me has to say, so I don't ask. When the straight men come into the store, I inflate my chest a little bit, and lower my voice a little bit, but the decision is a double-edged sword. If I do pretend, I feel like my true personality is less likable, but if I stay true to myself, my guests pick up speed and blow me off.
Earlier this summer, I went out to the clubs every saturday, and at one point, every tuesday, wednesday, AND saturday. As my classes and the "drama" picked up momentum, however, I found reason to stay home and watch "Queer as Folk" all alone in my apartment. Now, my classes are over, and I still haven't been out since around June 25th, and because I'm steering clear of the drama, I'm satisfied, but I'm as lonely as ever.
Is it possible to want what you can't have, and then turn it down when you see that you can finally get it? I've heard someone call this "Green Grass Syndrome," and I'm worried that I may be infected with it. I'm always yearning for candlelit dinners on the hardwood floor, quiet evenings in, but when I get them, I consider the person a sap and brush them away. Is it because I'm afraid to settle with him when I know that something better, greener, may come along? Or is it because I have looked at so much pornography that my expectations of the man who is right for me can never be reached? I've been single for a year now, and I'm finding myself holding onto someone whom I can't appreciate in the light. Only when the lights are off can we cuddle. Should I settle? Or should I tap into my heart and tell myself that if I don't even want to look at him, he's not right for me? Am I shallow, contaminated, or commitment-fearing?
When all of these questions emerge, all I have to do is watch an episode of "Queer as Folk," to get forty-five minutes of faithful friends, an accepting AND same-wavelength mother, and that tingly feeling you get when you don't know if you're going to get a first kiss or not...but once the episode reaches its end, I realize I'm cold and alone...
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