Learning to be Lonely...

Child of the wilderness
Born into emptinessLearn to be lonely
Learn to find your way in darkness
Who will be there for you
Comfort and care for you
Learn to be lonely
Learn to be your one companion
Never dreamed out in the world
There are arms to hold you?
You've always known your heart was on its own
So laugh in your loneliness
Child of the wilderness
Learn to be lonely
Learn how to love life that is lived alone
Learn to be lonely
Life can be lived
Life can be loved
Alone. - "Learn to Be Lonely," Phantom of the Opera

There are two songs going through my head right now... "Learn to Be Lonely" from Phantom of the Opera (yeah, yeah, I know I hate Andrew Lloyd Webber, but I'll give him a break for Phantom) and "Jane Says" from Jane's Addiction.

Just had what I hope is the last convo with Potential Paramour. I called him out. And he had a snit and signed out.

Which is fine with me.

Anyone reading this blog knows that sex is one of my main topics of interest. I love it; always have, from the first time I discovered how to make myself feel really good (it involved my backyard swingset when I was still in single digits). Sex--masturbation, fuck I hate that word--WANKING!--and occasionally, sex with another human--is probably the only time I enjoy being physically incarnate.

I've never been exactly healthy. From the time I was little, there have been a lot of physical ailments--whether allergies, bronchitis, injuries, depression-related crap, and then the weight problems (thyroid, arthritis, whatever)--and the only good things about being alive were being creative and having an orgasm.

Because I'm a curious person (in the sense that I am curious about things--I am curious in terms of being a bit of a curio, true), I want to know more about everything that affects me; I want to understand what makes me tick, and why I react to the world and others the way I do. The way I find out about stuff is to talk about it--directly to people, in this blog these days, whatever. The cool thing about the interwebs is that there are a lot of people out there and more ways to connect with them. I have a number of friends whom I have never met face-to-face, but whom I love dearly because via the wires, they have become key parts of my life. (To be honest, I have met most of them face-to-face; there are still a couple I haven't.) I have a few on-line fuck buddies, too--men who are good friends and occasionally, we get it on via IM or text or whatever because we are of the same mind about things, and for whatever other reason, a face-to-face relationship won't/can't work, but we are on the same groove level sexually, and it provides us with an outlet.

I'm not going to debate the "morality" of it. I'm just not. I can't. We have a connection, and we provide each other with a necessary release. I love these men for what they give me--a very private part of themselves that keeps me from losing all hope. What's passed between us has come from very serious, honest discussions about sex--very open, real and wonderful conversations. Now, I've been accused more than once of thinking too much like a guy (which baffles the shit out of me, but there you have it). Maybe it's true; I have a sense of honor that is much closer to a man's than the way most women operate. Maybe because I'm both a historian and a Shakespearean--my grounding is firmly in the past, in times when your word meant something, when Honor meant something real, rather than just a funny concept in books.

I also find sex hysterical--I find the dance that men and women do, quite frankly, ridiculous. I DON'T GET IT. If I tell a man he's hot, I mean it--I find him hot. What makes him "hot" to me isn't about his looks--well, not STRICTLY about his looks--it's about who he IS and how the whole package fits together. I'm not looking for some stupid storybook romance. I'm looking for a damn good friend I can share my life and my body with, and maybe, just fucking maybe, he and I can make each other's lives a little happier. I don't need perfection, I don't need Prince Charming--please, dear Gods, SPARE ME!--I just need someone with a sense of humor who can deal with my shit and who has the kind of shit that I can deal with. I don't give a damn about hard work--every relationship worth having, whether it's with a partner or a friend--requires hard work to keep it real and keep it working. The thing is, when someone matters to you, the work is WORTH it.

I have a very limited supply of hope left. See, Potential Paramour has been going on and on about us having an emotional and intellectual connection (his words, not mine), as well as a sexual one. *sigh* He's lonely, he wants love, he wants a partner, he wants he wants he wants he wants he wants...

Yeah. What fucking ever. HE wants. And he sporadically gets in touch--there's been a three-month-long IM convo going. I've blogged about it here and there, but I really couldn't take him seriously because well, it's been going on for three months without a phone number or a meeting, and the sporadic nature of his contact told me that I was his "fall back," not his main objective. Which is fine, but he keeps trying to corner me--nail my feet to the floor about a commitment.

Excuse me?

"You are not ready to be a wife."
"You are not ready to be a mother."

EXCUSE ME? The man who starts out a conversation with telling me that he's horny after I haven't heard from him in how long, and who pings me at 1:00 a.m. looking for IM sex, and he's telling me I'm not ready for serious commitment while trying to get to make a serious commitment without having met.

Yeah, right.

Now, I live on the outside of my skin in a lot of ways. There's some stuff I have no problem with people knowing about because hey, I think the whole lace curtain Irish shit is bullshit. Look at the state of the Catholic Church right now, and you KNOW it's bullshit. If you don't talk about the bad stuff, it keeps on happening. I talk about it when people do lovely things for me. I talk about how awesome my friends are (because they are). I don't talk about some stuff because it's private; there's information you need and information you don't, and that's that. When I tell a story, I don't tell people the stuff that I don't think they need to know.

Specific example: the Jim Jefferies review from NYC; there were a few comments, a bit of information, that I just didn't think should be shared. Nothing gossip-worthy, nothing career-impacting, just stuff I don't think anyone else needed to know. Just because he's a public figure doesn't mean every moment in public is for every member of public's consumption. It's like my view on charity--it's a private matter. No one needs to know what I give or how I give it. It's not charity if you're doing it for the laurels. And I'm sure as hell not going to i.d. my internet fuck buddies--what passes between us is a private matter. I don't give a damn what you know about my kinks--theirs, however, are a confidence.

Anyway, I am pretty open about what is going on in my life, particularly the struggle at home. It's difficult; I am dealing with an elderly parent whom I love but who has also taken over my life. Dear friends--GOOD friends, beloved friends, decent human beings--have told me to get the fuck out and leave her and my uncle to their own devices and demise, to take care of myself and forget about it. I cannot do that; I cannot abandon my mother. Whatever emotional abuse and pain she has inflicted on me over the years (and it has been horrible and awful, and there is a part of me that hates her passionately), while she emotionally abandoned me years ago because she was afraid of the child she brought into this world--afraid because I was everything she wanted me to be and so very much like her, yet without the horrible fetters her family put on her, and because she was afraid, she put fear in me... *sigh* In short, because my mother is human and didn't have herself for a parent, she made mistakes. Physically, she never abandoned me. Whenever I have needed something of a tangible nature, she has done her best to provide--a place to live when my ex took off (and when he came back, so she knew I was safe), and stuff... whether an extra $50 to get me through until payday, or paying for my drum kit (my Xmas pressie, Gods love her), she has been there.

That doesn't make any of this process easy. I want my life back. I want to be living on my own, as a functioning, independent adult, responsible only for myself and the things I WANT to do--like writing and performing. I want to be in a relationship, but how the fuck do I get involved with someone when I can't give the relationship 100%?

Now, I have been open with him about what's going on. There has been no information shared on his part. I know nothing about his family, nothing about his job, I know what town he lives in and that he has a roommate. Oh, and that he won't bring a woman back there because the walls are paper thin. *rolls eyes* Please.

So, after all this bullshit--and him saying that we hadn't met because we had no place to go afterwards and he didn't want to fuck me (his term, not mine) in a motel--and him pressuring me to tell him what I wanted and didn't I think we had potential, I threw down. I said, "Maybe. I won't know unless we meet."

And got the run-around and a lot of fucking excuses. He got pissed when I quoted his own words back to him. Made the point that he said he's not looking for a fuck buddy, but is never in regular contact. That he only gets in touch when he's horny. That I knew nothing about him. That I have half a dozen men and a bunch of chubby chasers on POF who want to fuck me.

All of a sudden I was being a bitch and twisting his words.

I'm feeling very, very bitter right now, and I think it's time to give up on the idea of finding a relationship. I know I've said this before, but... *sigh* I think it's time to go to Plan B for having a family, and stick with the IM fuck buddies. At least there are no lies, no illusions, no bullshit, no one trying to manipulate me into being something I'm not. I wish to Hell there was a man out there with whom I could be open and just be me with, and be together. Seriously. It just pisses me off that I accept people--everyone in my life--for WHO THEY ARE. I don't ask anyone to promise me things they can't give, I don't ask for anything I'm not willing to give. Why the hell haven't I found a partner who can give me the same?

So much for dreams. Better to spend my time on my work--at least I can give my characters happiness.

Hugs accepted gratefully.