Life, Love, Sex

Affliction

I keep thinking of my feelings for Jefferson these days as some sort of viral infection- in that I wake up everyday curious as to why I still feel this way, why it hasn’t just worked itself out on it’s own- like a cold, or the flu.

I think about him (in that I crave him) and I’m incredulous that I still feel that way.  Consciously I’m doing everything I can to let go.  My subconscious has got a death grip on his memory.

But only to an extent.

Occasionally (and I’m not underreporting) I look at a picture of us from back when we were really happy together.  And specifically I chose to look at this picture of us, rather than a picture of just him (except for this one picture from Chicago which is astetically just a beautiful picture, and I like to look at it and admire my handy work), because I want to see us together happy.  In the picture.  I want to see the picture of us together happy.

The memories are starting to fade though.  Even the pictures aren’t doing enough to keep a strong hold on them.  Off the top of my head, I don’t remember when this one picture was taken.  I couldn’t even guess what year or what month.  But more so, Jefferson becomes less and less familiar to me.  It’s almost like I don’t recognize him.

Jefferson is a non-issue in my life except for the 30 (cumulative) minutes a day (60 on Tuesdays) when he is.   I think about him sporadically, and I only ever talk about him in therapy.  But it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with oddly enough.

Sometimes I’m sad.  Especially when I think about the fact that the majority of the time we were together it was really good and I was really happy.  I admit I do miss the physicalness of our relationship.  Some moments I feel like I’d give anything for him to touch me again, hold me, kiss me, fuck me.  I often wish I could just hit a reset button on 2008.  Do it all over again, armed with what I know now.

And then there are the other times where I’m angry.  When I think about the times he lied to me- little lies, big lies.  The way he could tell me he loved me and then go on to treat me with such impudence.  Ignoring my feelings because he thought them insignificant and a disruption to his peaceful life.

News flash- feelings aren’t drama.

I don’t know how he could constantly tell me he cared about me and that I could always tell him anything- and I could, as long it wasn’t anything that had to do with him or our relationship, but if I brought up feelings about us then I was shut down and made to feel bad and like I had misbehaved because I wanted to confront and FIX an issue I was having.

And I would always challenge him on this in the beginning, but he’s much better at his own game, and he always had less to lose.  Jefferson never gave a fuck who walked in, or out, of his life.  And I knew this.  I saw this.  I never saw any sadness when he stopped seeing people, and I knew it was no different for me.

So when push came to shove, I let him win.  I dropped the issue.  Or apologized for any perceived misbehavior. Sometimes I’d just break up with him.

So the real fun begins when I’m sad and angry at the same time.  Like I am now after writing this.  It’s odd to miss someone whose lights you want to punch out.  I’m not yet at the point where I feel better having him completely gone from my life.  Especially considering the fact that I still have moments where I miss him and I still have moments where I’m mad at him.  So other than not seeing him, it doesn’t feel all that different.  Ha.  Psh.

Writing this today has made today’s accumulation more than 30 minutes.  Oh well.

I’ve been wanting to write a little on camp, so I’ll try and make that my next post(s).

I’m off to schoolwork, as usual.

Healing

It’s been 3 months now.  And only 3 months.  It feels like an eternity longer.  I spent the month of July not thinking much about it, which was good.  August I spent being angry.  Not so good.  And September I’ve been sad.

It’s not that I want Jefferson back in my life (at least the rational part doesn’t).  Believe you me, I don’t.  It’s just that I’m adjusting to something that was basically a constant in my life for 2 years being gone now.  For good, once and for all.  This isn’t like the other times.  We can’t talk and work things through.  We’re no longer a rock.  (Jefferson once described us as solid as a rock when we were going through a rough patch and I was thinking of leaving.)  We lost our strength a long, long time ago.

Not everything about being with Jefferson sucked.  Obviously, or I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.  I have plenty of blog entries here documenting the good times we shared.  And I think it’s perfectly logical and reasonable that I would miss those times.  Except for at the very end, I would still be excited to see him and spend time with him (and I was still shaving and wearing nice underwear too!).  That same giddy excitement I felt from day 1 lasted 2 years.  I loved how he used to touch me (though I’ve been missing that for longer than 3 months now) and I could never get enough of him.  I felt something for Jefferson that I really never experienced with anyone else.  And I can’t explain the hows or whys.  If I knew, I’d be torn between wanting to protect myself from ever letting it happen again, or searching for that kind of connection with another person.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.  This isn’t what I had planned.

If anything, I should have stayed broken up with him the 1st time and then we wouldn’t be where we are now.  Not friends.  Not speaking.  Not in each other’s life.

The break-up was…awful.  But I was at my wit’s end.  Everything I was doing wasn’t helping to save our relationship (probably because I was the only one doing something).  The lies continued.  The distance between us grew further.

You know I never saw his new place?  He never makes dates, so of course I was never invited to see it.  And then since I was trying to be helpful, I was trying to give him space so he had time to move, unpack, write his book, etc.  But I was so hurt and infuriated when I started reading all these accounts of all these other people spending time with him.  Including new people.  This was days before our trip to Chicago.

It was that moment that I decided I couldn’t be with him anymore.

I think I did a pretty good job of hiding that while in Chicago, if I do say so myself.

I guess I ended it like I did because I didn’t want a repeat of last summer’s break-up to happen (me going back to him).  I didn’t want to be manipulated back into the relationship.  I didn’t want to keep being hurt by his indifference to my feelings and his not taking any responsibility for his actions.

I don’t know what made this year different than last, but whatever I did successfully severed all ties.  Now we’re not even able to be friends.

Part of me wishes we could be.  I do miss just having him be in my life.  For even just the smallest reasons.

Thursday night I used a 4×5 view camera for the 1st time and really, really loved it.  It was so cool and so unlike any other photographic process I’ve done before.  It’s amazing how different cameras can be and how that can alter the photo taking a process.  My fully manual camera is so different from my auto-focus digital.  Using a TLR is different from an SLR.  And now I finally know the charms of a view camera.

I developed the film last night (tray development in complete darkness) and was so pleased with my images!!  I only took 4.  The 1st one was messed up because the camera moved on a shaky tripod, but other than that it was good exposure. The 2nd one I didn’t like because some things were out of focus and I think I may have had a bellow off center.  But the last 2 were really nice.  Great exposure, even density.  And nice pictures too!

Plus I was also shooting at night so I had to use my reciprocity failure chart and make sure I was metering correctly.  I think I might go out again tonight to shoot another building that I liked.  (I’m very into architecture, not sure why I haven’t pursued that more…)  And then Sunday night my classmate and I are going to go set up by the river to get the skyline (I’ll let her discover the hard way it’s cliche and not all that interesting, instead of bursting her excitement prematurely).

And I write all of this because this is what I’d want to be sharing with Jefferson (and I guess I am sharing it with him since I know he’s reading).  He got my excitement (or was really good at patronizing me about all my art geekiness).  I miss having him there to run to excited and wanting to share what cool new thing I learned.

I remember the hurt and frustration, but I also remember the love and happiness.  And the fun, playful times (like the time I got him hogtied at Shibaricon and then tickled him and tortured his nipples, hehe).  And the tender times (like when he’d just hold me and lay with me when I was having a bad week and just needed his warmth to feel better).

Maybe we could be friends.  Maybe we couldn’t.  I don’t know.  It’s probably not all that important.  I don’t even know if being friends is even a good idea.  I just wish I knew what it took to be less sad about everything.  And if all it takes is time, well then hurry the fuck up.

Heartache

Tomorrow I head to camp, and I couldn’t be more excited.  My cabin is going to rock- we’re the Panny FuxXx cabin- a whole bunch of young, pansexual, queer folk (so much so that I already feel so “straight” just in anticipation of cabining with them!).  Way awesome.  I only hope the weather holds out in our favor.  There’s a chance of rain each day, but only a 30% chance each day, so that’s not too bad.

I do get sad thinking about last year.  And not just last year camp (but yeah, sad thinking about last year camp), but last year fall/winter really.  (The time between Floating World and Winter Fire for all intents and purposes.)  I was so unbelievably happy last year- a happiness I didn’t even think was possible for me.  And of course that I’m doubtful I can achieve again.

I just had such amazing experiences, met so many new people, and made so many “great” “friends.”  But my trust has been so shattered, I don’t even want to dip my toe into making new friends.

I call this time of my life right now “Post-Winter Fire.”  After Viviane lashed out at me in a jealous temper tantrum, things haven’ t been the same.  And things have been 1,000 times worse since I spoke out against the FOJ campaign.  Well, it would make sense that the FOJ wouldn’t like me anymore.  Fair enough.  I don’t think Viviane ever liked me, and since she stabbed me in the back, there’s really no loss there.  (She really is just a wretched human being, honestly.)  Tilda and I were once friends, for like an hour.  But she chose to remove me from her blogroll and ignore me at Floating World.  Whatever.  No real sweat off my back.  Lolita and I “were never friends.”  Not thatI actually thought we were…

I haven’t decided yet if it’s worse just being ignored or being told flat out someone wants nothing to do with me anymore.  Because the silence says the same thing, just in a passive aggressive away.  (I’m going to go with being ignored.  Because getting the “courtesy” note often says way too much and includs 100 extraneous (and hurtful) reasons why they’re dumping you (have I written this sentance before because I’m getting serious deja vu).)

This isn’t something I ever really wanted to talk about because I’m human, and don’t always like to admit that I’m a human with feelings and such, but it’s been unbelievably hurtful and heartbreaking watching people that I liked, respected, admired, and cared about leave my life in such unfriendly and saddening ways.

I don’t particuarly like people, in a general sense, and over the years I’ve really tried to avoid letting people into my life and making new friends.   But last year I threw caution to the wind and completely opened my heart up and got completely burned and hurt in the end.  (Just like I always expect to happen.)

I still have a few good friends left, and God am I ever so thankful for them.  Desire especially is a Godsend.  I don’t know what I’d do without her (well, her and my therapist).

Camp was awesome last year.  I refuse to let any bad feelings I may have now tarnish those memories.  And I really do miss that life.  I miss Jefferson.  I miss my friends.  I miss my social life.  I miss being happy.

I anticipate this year’s camp also being awesome.  Just different.  I’m not exactly going into it with an open heart.

I don’t know that it really is better to have loved and lost.  I really don’t want to be hurt anymore (especially so soon after this round).

I don’t have much time for a social life these days anyways, so maybe it’s for the better.  I have a heavy course load, I’m focued on graduating, putting together a portfolio, and soon job huting.  That all there is going to take up a lot of my time and energy for the next 6 months.

And maybe that’s a good amount of time until I’m ready to start letting new people into my life.  Hopefully next time it won’t end in heartache.

This Time Last Year

A year ago I broke up with Jefferson in a very public and very emotionally charged fashion.

I tarnished his name and memory on the blog and cursed him out over e-mail. For a few short weeks I hated him. I hated his guts. I hated his mere existence. I hate the stain of him in my memory.

I was on a serious emotional roller coaster and it was an extremely hard time for me. This was a man I loved and I was torn apart over the pain I endured being with him.

After many weeks of e-mailing and thinking and more e-mailing, we decided to pursue a less intense, but still sexual relationship. I met him one evening late that summer, our first meeting after reconciling. I was nervous as fuck when I got to his door. I wasn’t sure if I was making the right decision. I swore to myself when I broke up with him that it was final. That there was no going back.

I stood outside his door for a few minutes; pacing. Wondering if I shouldn’t just turn around and go home. The deciding factor in why I chose to re-enter his life? The fact we were having company that night. Who am I to disappoint CL guys? Ha. But seriously, if they weren’t part of the schedule, I might be in a very different place right now. I may not have gone back.

And for every good reason. A year later I still question that decision.

Except I know I wouldn’t have the friends I do now if it weren’t for that one moment in time. I don’t think I would’ve gone to Floating World, so I never would have met Jocasta and Zelda or Eileen and Maymay or Tilda. I never would have gone to sex camp and thus I’d never have met Desire, Match, or Prince (et al: all the other wonderful people from camp). I wouldn’t have become friends with Boymeat and Lolita.  All these people I love and care about so much.

I owe all those relationships to the fact that I went back to him.

But it certainly doesn’t mean I have to stay with him. No, thankfully because I made so many wonderful friends, I feel strong enough to go out and explore and live my own adventures. And yay, that’s such a good thing, because I think we can all agree on the fact that being with Jefferson only stunts me. When I’m with him I can’t grow. And I can’t have grown and expect him to be at the same level as me anymore.

I haven’t decided what the appropriate direction is to take this post.  I could be brutally honest (my personal favorite of course), polite (yawn), or just ignore the issues.  But I think I’ll put a to be continued as I need to get to bed as I have a pretty full day tomorrow.

Feel free to start pondering.  (Hint, read my twitters from Tuesday)

The Lyrics

There’s no real music video for this song, but it’s the lyrics I want you to pay attention to anyways.

They Weren’t There, by Missy Higgins

You breathed infinity into my world
And time was lost up in a cloud and in a whirl.
We dug a hole in the cool grey earth and lay there for the night.
Then you said, “wait for me we’ll fly the wind,
We’ll grow old and you’ll be stronger without him” but oh,
Now my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive and now I’ve drowned.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
So they can tell me I was wrong…

But they weren’t there beneath your stare,
And they weren’t stripped ’till they were bare of
Any bindings from the world outside that room.
And they weren’t taken by the hand
And led through fields of naked land
Where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away…
So I couldn’t say “no”.

You sighed and I was lost in you, weeks could’ve past for all I knew.
You were there blanket of the over-world and so I couldn’t say,
I wouldn’t say “no”. But they all said, “you’re too young to even know,
Just don’t let it grow and you’ll be stronger without him”
But oh, now, my world is at your feet. I was lost and I was found,
But I was alive and now I’ve drowned.
So now I will be waiting for the world to hear my song
So they can tell me I was wrong…

But they weren’t there beneath your stare,
And they weren’t stripped ’till they were bare
Of any bindings from the world outside that room.
And they weren’t taken by the hand and led through fields
Of naked land where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away…

But they weren’t there beneath your stare,
And they weren’t stripped ’till they were bare
Of any bindings from the world outside that room.
And they weren’t taken by the hand and led through fields
Of naked land where any pre-conceived ideas were blown away…
So I couldn’t say “no”.

Almost Time!

So I’m chillin’ out maxin’ relaxin’ all cool at Desire’s place while she’s off at work for the moment. (I know, work on Good Friday?? I’m a Jew and I understand the dumbness of that!)

I was up early yesterday and then to bed early and up early again today. I already managed a nice hot shower and some snuggles with the cat. I figure I’ll do my hair at some point and eat my leftovers from last night before heading over to the hotel. It’s nice only being 15 minutes away instead of 4 hours…

Can I talk for a minute about my morning yesterday? It was a rotten, awful morning. First I woke up at 7am because my roommate’s new boyfriend was leaving and I woke up, but I was less cranky about it than usual for some reason. I dunno. That wasn’t the bad part though. The bad part came when I looked in the mirror a little while later and saw my eye was pink. Wait- extra crusties that morning and a hot gooey feeling in my eye? D’oh! Pink eye!

I was annoyed to say the least. Pink eye the day before Winter Fire! Luckily I woke up so early because I was able to hop over to the school health center and get some antibiotic eye drops!

Then shortly after that I got into a nasty tete-a-tete (I wish I knew how to do accents on a Mac- too lazy to find out) with someone that left a nasty taste in my mouth. It was really quite…traumatizing. Let’s just say, it’s the next day (at only 11am) and I really wish I was wasted. Or high. Maybe both.

Because it was the last thing I needed before Winter Fire (as my head has just barely been in the weekend) so the only way to really get on quite quickly was to numb myself to it. It’s the only way I’m able to function (read: leave my bed).

I’m also thinking that maybe there isn’t a Beatles song for everything.

Originally I thought of posting this video (We Can Work it Out), but how I really feel is more along the lines of this:

So seriously- me drunk now please.