Idle Musings of Various Natures...

[bubo]

This particular piece I wrote almost a year ago about a girl who left me shortly afterwards. While it was not written for her specifically, it was written about her. So far, this has been my best received piece. The original title was "Idle Musings of a Romantic Nature".

Joy shared is joy doubled. Pain shared is pain halved. - Spider Robinson
Love shared is always joyful for the sharer. - Allen Call

I can't sleep. It's something that affects me quite often... Some people talk about how they have insomnia because they don't like to go to sleep. Me, I categorize it. There's the popular "I don't want to stop what I'm doing so I won't go to sleep" insomnia. The common "I've got too much energy to go to sleep" insomnia. One that I'm not familiar with is "I'm so high/buzzed/dosed that I can't sleep" insomnia. However, the one that I am very familiar with, and which has me in its clutches right now is the "I'm so tired that I can't sleep" insomnia. I know this one quite well, it has been my bed partner for many years now. It is a very unique creature. Unlike many of the more common forms of insomnia, it's not a matter of not wanting to sleep. It is an inability to sleep. I can't sleep, and so my mind starts to wander down strange and varied pathways.

One thought that keeps coming back to my head is something that my girlfriend has said a few times to me recently. It is a simple phrase, and one that I understand. However, I have yet to be able to tell her my answer to it. I can see this wonderful Arcadia before me, rich and powerful with heady beauties, but I cannot describe it. My love tells me that she wishes she could love me as much as I love her. She gives me the impression that she is disappointed in herself because she feels that she is cheating me from love. I'm left trying to remember how to cry because I can't explain to her how much she has given me, just by being herself.

Like most of the population of the modern world, I did not have a happy childhood. Like most of the population of the modern world, my parents fought and my younger years were miserable. So be it, it seems to happen to everyone nowadays. What I feel makes me unique is that I can face the fact that I made my childhood miserable. Sure, parents fight and make kids feel awful. Sure, some of the punishments handed to me were horrible. But I did things to myself that would bring shivers to most mental doctors. I played with my own head. I did things to myself through the shear strength of my imagination. Forget flogging, I tortured myself nightly for the wrongs that I did that day. I still do. I cannot let myself go unpunished for what I have done, and maybe someday I can remember how to forgive myself. I have given myself illnesses, I have given myself phobias, I have given myself scars. And one night, many years ago, I turned off my emotions.

Can you imagine living a life of cold, hard facts without the ability to laugh or cry or scream? Moving through each day with the precision of a chess game, but locked in a stalemate just waiting for someone to make the call. Of looking at school activities and think of it, not in terms of fun, but in terms of advancement. Will this help me get ahead? Is this worth the time involved? Many of these questions pass through our minds each day, as we progress through school or work. Most of these questions leave us in the still of night as we lay to sleep, either alone or with loved ones, and allow our minds to wander off into eldritch worlds full of happy dream stuff, sad catharsis, scary boogie monsters. I know this drifting. One night, in a fit of punishment, I denied it to myself. I turned it off. And then I couldn't find the switch again.

I felt like I did not deserve to be loved. After all, I am a bad person. Bad people do not deserve kindness, or love.... or sadness. I thought that if I turned off all of the good things, the bad would go with it. Well, I was right. Horror of horrors, was I right. I lay there with those questions going through my head and no way to drift off. I remember looking at my family and thinking to myself, do I love them? What is love? And realizing that I was internally barren. No sense of loss, no sense of sadness.... no happiness.

To say the least, the time immediately after that was very confusing. I was 10 when I did this. I did not understand what friendship truly was. I couldn't comprehend what pride was. Everything was objectives, and the accomplishment of objectives. Bare, cold facts with no padding to cushion the hard edges.

It was a little over a year later that I even understood that I lost something. Books, those were the key. Reading a book for class, and realizing that I didn't understand what motivated the characters. Reading about loyalty, and love, and anger. They were abstract terms, and I could talk about them at length. They meant nothing to me, though. Empty facts with no basis. It struck me while reading Anne Frank that I had lost something, somewhere along the line. An emptiness filled me, a sense of loss. And then the horror set in.

I finally understood the nature of my loss, and how hollow my life was. It took a couple more years after that before I finally realized what was supposed to be behind a smile. I have unlocked many of my emotions now, but sometimes, late at night, I wonder if I have all of them back. I remember that I still can't remember how to cry. I think I've cried less than ten times since I graduated high school, and most of that ten was because of great pain from nasty injuries. I cried the night I ended a two year long engagement. I cried the night I betrayed a dangerous confidence that was given to me, to remain true to my friend.

Yes, I screwed myself up good when I was younger. It is because of the scars I gave myself that I appreciate certain things that I have now. Such as love. I revel in the fact that I can love. What I can't find the words to tell my girlfriend is that I am not losing anything by loving her. In loving her, I am filled with the joy of being in love. The wonder of looking at her and knowing that I accept her, with her flaws and merits both. The bliss of being able to love her, all of her, from that fairy smile to the sleepy crankiness, and everything in between. The surety that I do not need to look for anyone "better", because perfection cannot match the tiny, wonderful details that are her. The knowledge that I can love her as much as I do.

The love that she feels for me complements what I feel. She finds a physical beauty in me that I do not see. She sees the kindness in me that I cannot acknowledge. She tries to understand the twisted, knotted thing that is my soul. I love her for that... for the simple truth that she can love me.

I hear a lot of complaints about not being able to find someone to love you. I hear them alot, and know them well, because I made most of them. A simple thing tends to slip my mind when these types of complaints come out, and would help me feel so much better if I could remember it at those times. If you can find someone to love, then it is not so lonely. Love does not have to be returned to be experienced. It simply must exist within to be enjoyed.

I throw myself into love easily. I've lost a great many chances because she "doesn't want to hurt" me. I've watched these women walk away from the love that I offered, and never regretted loving them. Yes, it hurts. However, it is a bearable pain, and is better than to feel nothing at all. I know, I've been there. It's not true, it never hurts less with time. The ache never gets better no matter how often it is felt. However, it becomes bearable with each repetition, as the realization arrives that there will be another love, and another chance to experience that joy rise within myself. I risk it all, because I keep the joy and memories regardless of the outcome. And I'll be damned if I lose that one special one because I was scared of win-win odds.

My girlfriend feels bad because she doesn't think she loves me as much as I love her. I cannot find the words to tell her why it doesn't hurt me... until now. A couple in love... share their love. It's not a matter of I love you more, you love me more. It's a matter of we love, and we share that love between us. I love you, my Butterfly, and it fills me with as much joy as it gives you. You love me, my Butterfly, and it gives me as much joy as it fills you. We love each other, and that is how it should be. No matter what comes or what goes... No matter if we remain together or go our separate ways, we have this. We have loved, and been loved. That will be shared with us until the end of days.

 

[bubo]

Idle Musings on Sleeping with Strange Men

I happen to fall into the category that stereo-types non-heterosexual people. Yes, I do know that 99% of the people out there do not fit my stereo-type, but it helps me when I first meet them. My stereo-typing is actually pretty simple:

Homosexual women are the best people to go out and have fun on the town with. I have rarely regretted spending time in the company of lesbians, whether it's showing exactly how badly I dance to sitting down and watching the nightlife pass by on the sidewalks. As an added benefit, I find lesbians to be much better conversationalists when it comes time to discuss what we are looking for in women. At the very least, more lesbians than men understand why I value a girl's smile so much.

Bisexual women are the best conversationalists I have ever met. To this day, I have never had a bad conversation with a bisexual woman. Sure, a lot of times they have turned me on my ear and shown me exactly why I'm wrong. However, they have always done so with the right amount of tact and humor. On the very rare occassion, I have had the joy of doing the same to them.

Homosexual men are by far the best cooks and fashion consultants I have ever known. I'm certain that there are those out there who could burn water and are complete eyesores, but I have yet to meet them. I've gotten some wonderful recipes from homosexual men, and on the occassion where fashion is important I have one friend who always finds time to come over and moan over my clothing selection.

Sadly, I do not believe that I have met a truly bisexual man. Most of the men I've met who've claimed bisexuality seem to have done so strictly because it doubles their chances of finding a bed partner. Until I meet a few who seems sincere in his choice, I'm reserving judgement on bisexual men.

As for myself, to this date I've been strictly heterosexual. However, I have no problem showing emotions towards or about men. In fact, at any given point in time there are long lists of people who consider me homosexual because of the fact that I enjoy giving hugs to men as much as women, and have no problem with holding, hugging, or doing any number of non-sexual activities with men that most men will only do with women. The way I look at it, if I am indeed homosexual or bisexual, then I have yet to meet a man who is man enough for me. Somehow, I doubt that I ever will. Besides, the look on the faces of the people who think I'm gay is priceless whenever I show up with whatever girl I'm dating at the time.

Which brings me to the point of this entire post. Recently, I gave a rather amusing anecdote about my past that I decided to share with you. Here is the reason why I no longer will sleep in a bed with strange men.

A few years back, the apartment I shared with a friend was a frequent place for various friends to fall asleep, especially if they had been drinking. Both my roommate and I preferred our friends imposing on us rather than drive home while drunk. On this particular night, quite a few of our friends had been having a good time, and so our entire living room was full of people sleeping it off.

I had pulled a graveyard shift that night, and came home around 6 in the morning. When I went to my room to go to sleep, I found that one of our guests had fallen asleep in my bed. The sleeper was a male that I did not recognized, which was not that uncommon. My roommate and I were still introducing each other to our friends. Falling asleep with a man has never been a problem for me, so I just shrugged, climbed into bed, and fell asleep.

The rest I had to piece together on my own, since I never saw this particular gentleman again. I did learn from my roommate that his name was David.

I happen to be blessed with hair that I rather enjoy, and have chosen to grow it out to just above my waist. I believe that David woke up sometime around 8AM, and in his half awake state had the following train of thought go through his head:

"Hmm, there's someone else in bed with me."

"Hey, they have long hair. They must be a girl."

"Wow, there's a girl in bed with me. This is odd."

"Hurm, maybe if she wakes up aroused, then I'll get some early morning fun."

Regardless of the actual train of thought, I was woken up at around 8:30 by him screaming "What the ****!?!" in my ear and his hand in a very inappropriate spot.



And that is why I always make sure that the guy knows I'm sleeping in the same bed before I crawl into bed with him.

 

[bubo]

Idle Musings on Faithfulness

There are many things about the way I live my life that my friends have trouble understanding. I don't drink, but I have no problem going to bars with my friends and playing designated driver afterwards. I cannot smoke because of lung damage from my parents second hand smoke when I was younger, but the majority of my friends smoke and I have no problem hanging out with them while they are smoking. I have never taken drugs, but when I was in high school my best friend during sophomore year was a dealer. All sorts of crazy contradictions exist in my life, but they are all subjects for later musings.

Recently, I've had to take a long hard look at one of the more puzzling of these. Whenever I have been in a relationship, I have only had eyes for my girl, but it has never bothered me if she wanted to see or sleep with other people. Most of the guys I know don't understand why I don't go out looking for other girls if she's dating other guys. Most of the girls I know don't understand why I don't get upset that she's seeing other guys.

To understand how I arrived at my view requires going back several years to when I became engaged to a wonderful girl. I met G while I was a senior in high school. She was a freshman who just happened to take the same debate class that I was in. While I was working with our competitive team, she was starting her career in competitive debate. I first noticed her when she "accidentally" dropped an erotic story she had written in front of me, an odd piece involving a Victorian woman and a horse. What followed was some gentle teasing from me about how she could know so many details about the mechanics of a tryst with a horse, and a rather joking, teasing friendship between us. It was one of those friendships marked by games of "how far will you go". I still remember that crazy strip poker game in the middle of the classroom where the two of us faced off and flat out refused to be outdone by the other. The teacher put a stop to it before more than shoes and jackets had come off, but I still remember how the air crackled between us. Our wardrobes were matters of odd pride to us. I specialized in clothing that I could crawl to my closet at 5:30 AM, grab a shirt and pants, put them on, and be assured that they matched without me turning on the light. Some days, it didn't quite work right and I would be a complete eyesore. G's wardrobe, on the other hand, would turn your head and leave you wondering where the train wreck happened. I remember shirts made entirely of patches, some of the gaudiest pants in existence, and a homecoming dress that she made out of a single sheet that she affectionately called Binky.

Years later, I would learn that she had written that story and dropped it in front of me that day because she learned my Chinese Zodiac sign was the horse.

After graduation, I would not see G again for two years. During that time, I had one girlfriend while I lived in Austin who did something horrible to me, and left me a very broken individual. Those events are a subject for another idle musing. I returned home afterwards, and one day looked up from my work to see G coming into the store I was working in with her father.

She had changed very little in those two years. She was a little bit taller, but she had already been tall when I first met her. Her clothes were no longer the eclectic mismatch that she used to wear, although they still drew the eye. None of those details really meant much to me, what mattered was two things. As she looked up and saw me sitting there with my jaw dropped open, that smile returned to her face and that old twinkle came to her eyes.

She had not heard that I was back in town, primarily because I had gone to great lengths to hide from everyone and everything after what happened with the girl in Austin. She was rather upset that I had not contacted her to at least say hello. G poked and prodded at me until she managed to get my phone number from me.

Over the next few months, G put me back together. As our friendship grew, she managed to pry out of me exactly what happened in Austin. She spent months working with me to overcome the nightmares and demons that haunted me from those events. As she helped me heal the fractures in my mind, I grew to love her. After some misadventures including the two of us showing up for a dance with the exact same hairstyle and a "Dear John" letter she wrote to me, we ended up dating. As time went on, I proposed to her and she accepted.

Before the dating and the proposal could happen, however, there was one very large obstacle that we had to overcome in regards to each other. I was extremely monogamous in a relationship, but G believed in polyamorous relationships. In a nutshell: I was a one woman man, but G believed that it is possible to have multiple true loves at the same time. It caused quite a bit of tension between us for a while.

We started to look at why I was bothered by the thought of G seeing other guys besides me. What we found was that I was scared. I was frightened that she would find someone else who was better than me. I have no illusions about my looks, or my personality, or how boring my life is. At best, I could describe myself as blah, and at worst the adjectives became obscene.

We delved even further, and what we found was a lack of trust. I did not trust her to remain by my side through thick and thin. So we built up and worked on our trust in each other. After weeks of soul searching and heart to heart talks between us, we finally arrived where I am today. I trust the girl I'm with to always come back to me. This simple knowledge gives me the strength to fend off the fear that threatens me every time she is out with another person. Furthermore, on the few occasions where my girlfriend does find someone better than me, I love her so much that all I care about is that she is happy. To this day, I still hold no illusions about who I am, and where I stand. Just about anyone else out there is a better choice than I am.

As for myself, I am still monogamous on my side of the relationship. I still only have a tenuous grip on some of my emotions, and I don't want to make things more complicated. Besides, there are times when I find having just one girlfriend keeps my hands full, how would I handle multiple girlfriends?

G and I were engaged for two years before we split up. To be honest, I caused the reasons for the break up. I drove G to the point where she did something that we both regret to this day, and it killed my trust in her. It wasn't her fault, though. I pushed her to it, and I accept the blame for all of the events that transpired.

With the girlfriends since then, I have only had three who wanted a similar arrangement. The worst I've ever felt during these relationships was sort of awkward whenever I spend time with the other guys, or when she wants to talk about them. How exactly do you respond to a description of your girlfriend sleeping with another guy? Do you tell her you hope she had fun? Do you ask for more descriptions to learn new tricks and ways to delight her? Do you just pretend it isn't happening? For different girlfriends, I've had to do different things in these situations, and it takes time to learn what she is expecting.

Recently, however, I have found that the old fear is starting to return to me. Yet again, recent events have left a scar on me, and it would appear that one of the after effects is a return of the fear and a shaking of the trust I once held. Some of my friends tell me I'm finally growing up. Some tell me that I'm starting to actually get serious about relationships.

I don't know if they are right. All I know is that I find myself growing more fearful, and less certain of myself. Who knows where this will lead me?



P.S. G. I've told you this many times, and I will always tell you this. I love you. I regret to the bottom of my heart that I drove you to that. I regret that I can never share with you what I once shared with you. I regret that I can never go back to you. However, never doubt that I still love you.

 

[bubo]

Idle Musings on Mismatched Couples

Whenever my friends or I complain about being lonely, the most common question that I hear is "Why are all of the nice ones in a relationship with the mean/stupid/evil ones?" Everyone has heard some variation on this, and I've seen it in a couple of the journals on here. I have rarely heard anyone even attempt to answer this question, aside from something along the lines of "Tell me about it."

I have a confession to make. Every girl I have dated has been a nice girl. I have only left a girlfriend twice in my life, and every time a girl has left me, I can point out every single one of my failures and mistakes that drove that girl from me. In short, I have been the "mean/stupid/evil" one of the question.

Take the fiancee that I have mentioned in my previous Musing. Despite everything that has happened since then, the relationship and engagement that I had with G is still at the top of my list of best relationships. G did so much for me that I still kick myself regularly for the mistakes I made. Boy, did I ever make mistakes. I was still young at the time, but my youth was no excuse for the things I did to G. My worst crime must be taking G for granted. I had opened a business at the suggestion of G's father, and was spending a lot of time learning that I am in fact a lousy businessman. I'm good at what I do, but I just don't do business. The business was making just enough money to pay the bills for the business, but not enough to pay me anything so I could pay my own bills. G started working to provide us with an income, and we ended up living with her parents. I was stressing out over the business, and I started to ignore G. At first, it was little things like forgetting important dates or things we were going to do together. Then I started going to bed later and later, some nights not joining G in bed at all. After a few months, I started to relieve some of my stress by playing video games, and my list of crimes against G grew. I was forsaking her company so I could play more video games. There were some times that she would just come up and stand next to me, watching me play, and I would not even acknowledge that she was there. G and I used to enjoy looking at pornography together, because we shared some of the same attractions. However, after awhile I started to prefer the pornography to G herself. I made these mistakes, and I deeply regret the pains I inflicted on G.

With G, I was definitely the mean one of our pair. I was not always such a jerk to her, but rather evolved into that person over the course of two years with G. That is one of the reasons you will see nice people with such awful people; the awful people were not always awful. Once upon a time, they were just as nice, and as they changed their significant other remained by their side with the dream and hope that they will change back. Don't take me wrong. G was not without her shortcomings herself, but I was responsible for most of the things that drove us apart. Looking back on them now, I can understand why she started to wonder if I really meant it when I told her that I love her. I'm thankful that I have grown since then, and strive to never repeat the mistakes that I made with her.

I used to beret myself and make myself miserable over the things that I did to G to drive her away. It wasn't until much later that I realized I had indeed changed for the better. I couldn't see myself changing, but I was shown that I had changed when someone asked me a question that just flabbergasted me. "Why is such a nice guy as you doing with such a horrible girl like her?"

Somewhere between leaving G and that girl asking me that, I had moved from one side of the eternal question to the other. I am now the nice guy, and people are absolutely puzzled by why I seem to end up with such mean girls. This has given me a rare insight into the question; I have seen both sides.

As the nice one, let me explain why I have remained with girls who have cheated on me, lied to me, belittled me, and used me. As I said earlier, a few of the girls I have remained loyal to because they were not always so bad, and I hoped that we would find our way back to where we used to be.

There have been other reasons, however. Often, I find myself dating a girl who acts one way in public, but is entirely different in private. There was one girl, Br, I dated who acted like a stuck up flirt in public, all but completely ignoring me when we went out. It was an entirely different story when we were home together. She was devoted, kind, and attentive. I'm not that demanding, my most annoying characteristic is that I am a cuddle-slut and love just holding the girl I'm with in my lap. Br always did more than that for me, just because she wanted to. Often, we would have friendly arguments over who was going to cook dinner for the other. I was a registered massage therapist at the time, but Br would not allow me to massage any of her aches or pains unless I promised to let her do the same to me. Friends use to ask me why I put up with Br because all they saw was her treating me like some kind of pet in public. It was our private time that made it worthwhile for me, and the love and attention we showed each other.

Another reason why I've dated and stayed with unusual matches is because I can see potential in them. I recall another girl I dated, named M. M was always quiet in the class we shared, and quickly got the reputation as a brainiac. She also was the subject of rumors that she was depressing, arrogant, and cruel because she was so quiet and reserved. I still remember the first day I saw her, the very first day of class. I was looking around the classroom and studying my new classmates as I waited for the teacher to show up. M sat in the chair directly behind me, so she was one of the last ones I looked at. When I did, I found that she was also looking at me with an odd expression on her face. She had seen me studying the class, and was trying to figure out what I was doing and why I was doing it. When I saw her expression, I waggled my eyebrows and made a funny face at her, trying to break her concentration. It worked, she cracked a smile and giggled. It was that smile that drew me to her. She rarely smiled in class because she was always concentrating on the work and lessons. A couple of weeks into the class, I finally worked up the nerve to say something to her. After class ended, I found myself walking a little bit ahead of her in the hallway. I spun around and crouched so that my face was level with her face. I scared her when I did this, but I was lucky and caught her curiosity when she saw that I had a look of intense concentration as I studied her face. My eyes scanned her face, never pausing as I studied. Finally, when the curiosity was well written on her face and I thought her eyes were fixing to bug out, I nodded curtly and told her, "You should smile more often." At my words, her face melted into confusion for a few seconds, and then she smiled at me again. When that smile graced her face again, I smiled back and explained, "See, it changes you. Now, you are not just beautiful, you are absolutely gorgeous."

M and I were only together for three months. When we first started dating, I found that my suspicions were correct. M was incredibly shy, and dealt with her shyness by throwing herself into her schoolwork. My female friends use to ask me why I was dating such a boring girl who spent more time on her studies than on me. I dated M, and stayed with M, because inside of her I could see a wonderful, caring girl who was just scared to come out. With M, my suspicions proved correct. After she got over her shyness, she became the person I suspected she was that first day in class. She was incredibly loving and caring. I would still be with her today, if it was not for the work of a third person that drove us apart. But that is a subject for another idle musing.

In all three of the reasons I have given for a nice person to be with a not so nice person, there is a common theme. The question "Why are all of the nice ones in a relationship with the mean/stupid/evil ones?" is actually a very shallow question that only looks at how couples and people are in public. Let me tell you, the way I act in public is completely different from how I act in private. I do my best to be a carefree spot of happiness whenever I'm out with friends, because I don't want to burden them with my problems. I don't deal with my problems until I'm in private, and the only people who are privy to those problems are my best friend, my family, and whoever my girlfriend is at the time. A lot of what you see in public that fall into the mean/stupid/evil category are actually defense mechanisms. Usually, if you can see how the couple are behind all of the defenses and masks, you'll find that all of these couples tend to be very loving pairs. That is why the nice ones are with them.

Now that you have an answer to the eternal question, it's time to do something about it. Instead of looking at all of these odd matches, look at the people around you. Try to see past their appearances, and find who they are in private, find who they might become, find if they are the one you are looking for. You may find that you are not as alone as you thought you were, and you might even be lucky and find the one who is right for you.