Posted Decision Made, and within an hour the phone rings. Amazing.
Posted Decision Made, and within an hour the phone rings. Amazing.
I shall simply stop. No more emails, no more calls. If he emails me or calls me, I will cheerfully respond, but I will not initiate. I will send hm the copy of my novel that he asked for, and then that’s it. If space is what he needs, he can have it. No anger, no guilt trips, no bullshit. No breaking up, either. When winter comes and it’s time for my visit, I’m going. I love him, and I miss him. But I have spent most of my life being understanding and putting myself second. I’m done. I need someone to be close to.
So I’m trying to work this out.
My boyfriend lives far away. In our relationship, he generally calls me. Of course, I call him, too, but usually, he initiates. I like it like that. He used to call me almost every day. Now he almost never calls. When I call him, his phone is usually off. I fucking hate that. Sometimes he calls back. When I do get him, he is always pleased to hear from me.
We also email a lot. Or we used to. I still email a couple times a week. Occasionally I get a spate of emails in return.
The last time I heard from him was 10 days ago. We had a lovely conversation, talked for an hour. Unfortunately, this call was in response to the email I sent him saying that I felt like I didn’t have a boyfriend.
The facts: I have asked, begged, and threatened for more consistent communication. He is genuinely surprised when he hears we haven’t spoken for two weeks. But it doesn’t improve.
The facts: he is broke (like, odd jobs, no rent broke). The local free wifi connection has become unstable. His cell phone costs 10¢ a minute, and his credit cards are long gone. So communication is genuinely difficult for him. But still…
I am pretty sure he doesn’t have anyone else. I am pretty sure he is still interested in me, though I could be wrong about that. I know he loves me, but that doesn’t always equal interest, if you know what I mean. One can drop on the scale from hot lover to cherished old friend and never see it coming.
I do believe he is deeply bound up in his own world. The question is, What the fuck problem of that is mine?
When you are in a relationship, you have to think of more people than just yourself, right? Not that you subordinate your life to theirs, not at all. But especially when you are in a long-distance relationship, you have to keep the smoke gathered, as Walter Mosley would say, lest it go cold and drift away from inattention.
I am going cold and drifting away.
Are my expectations too high for guy who is currently way down on his luck and hitting his second Saturn return? Has he decided I’ll probably leave him anyway and this is the easy way out?
The facts: I have been over-helpful in the past and have pulled way back. I want a man, not a baby. He wants a lover, not a mother.
Is my wanting him to call just more manipulation? Do what I say? Show me you need me? Or am I just a woman who is lonely for her lover?
Is his refusal a way of gaining space and autonomy? Or is he just too self-involved to bother?
I have this idea that the problem is in me, in some way that I see, or refuse to see, this situation. I just don’t know what that is. Yet.
It’s like, if you want to keep me, I need more attention. On the other hand, why debase myself? Why put up with a man who can’t be there for me? Maybe I need to just let go, quietly and without fanfare. At what point am I breaking up with the guy, and at what point am I just giving him space (a whole lotta space)?
I don’t want to break up with the guy. He is delicious. His hands are magic. His voice melts me. His skin is smooth and silky, and he’s easy to be around. But he’s thousands of miles away. I haven’t seen him in months, and as far as I can see, I won’t be seeing him for another half a year, b/c he’s too broke to visit.
But I’m lonely. I want a lover. And the pickings are fucking slim, let me tell you, b/c there just aren’t that many people around whom I find attractive. So any casual sexual encounter runs the risk of turning into something not so casual.
I love flirting. I love the beginnings of relationships, when it’s all rosy and hot. I love feeling beautiful and desirable. I’ve been in my share of long-term things. I’m not the love ’em and leave ’em type. But maybe I could be more relaxed about the whole thing.
I want my love life to be easy and delicious. I am way past drama. But something in me is paranoid, hiding, anxious that there will be some. That fear of exposure, so recently activated, is not gone. Where does it originate? How do I get rid of it?
She is indeed his confidante. How totally random is that? And she’s completely trustworthy. So it’s all good.
What’s better is that I got to deal with the fear, coming to the Oh Well stage all on my own: Oh well, whatever he said, it can’t really hurt me, and if he really is a jerk, I never have to speak to him again. But it’s nice to know the guy is okay after all.
And that is this: I told one person what I did–someone I knew could keep their mouth shut, who lives far away, and was not going to judge me. Maybe the friend who FBed me was his one person. Because frankly, if he is involved with someone, he’d have to be an idiot to go around advertising the fact that he got this proposition. So I will sit tight until I hear from her again and sort this out.
So I get a wall post on FB today, from someone who lives far enough away I never see her: “I hear you met my friend …” and a ❤ heart at the end.
And I am, like, shit. Too bad your friend is a total blabbermouth. What did he do, go to a July 4th party and tell everyone there I hit on him, showing my card the whole while? How else would this totally random connection occur?
What the hell is wrong with people? Why do I even try? Silence is the best policy. This whole state is one small town. No wonder I don’t have any friends.
On the other hand, at least I know the guy’s name now. Oh, and he’s a musician–hence the flash. But he’s not on my happy list at the moment.
I have a crush on a guy.
He wears beads in his hair. He’s skinny, smart, funny, and hot. He a flashy dresser in an offbeat artistic kind of way, Hawaiian shirt and a long black skirt. He works at the health food store. So he has no money. It finally occurred to me that no straight guy has that much fashion sense, either. We have almost never spoken. I don’t know his name. He is my no-anxiety sex fantasy, someone I can imagine happily with no reality, no real-life drama of disappointments and complicated emotional trauma.
The other day I said, “If you are ever straight and single, call me.” And I gave him my card. He beamed. I left. I hope I haven’t ruined my one reliable fantasy.
I don’t meet many people with whom I have the slightest chemistry. Like, few. So this is important. But I don’t know what I want. Technically, someone to hang out with and have sex, a fuck-buddy, if you will. I am rotting here, going to waste. It causes me acute pain to waste my last few years of sexual desirability in virtual celibacy. What is the point of having a boyfriend if you never even get to cuddle, much less get laid? We have this “don’t ask, don’t tell” clause for the time we are apart. But the question is, can I maintain multiple relationships without becoming a pool of anxious guilt? Can I have a straight-up casual sex relationship? Maybe several?
Good questions. We’ll see what happens.
Between us, who is innocent?
We orbit endlessly, twin suns, resenting each the other’s gravity,
Yet drawn, despite our best intentions, to the fire.
What bliss, to hurtle, finally, unencumbered, into the heart of flame.
Alas, it brings destruction.
From the safety of our distance, we cajole, advance, retreat,
Tease and threaten, snipe, attack, defend, and lick our wounds.