12:45 p.m. - June 28, 2002
What the fuck is wrong with me
It's not supposed to be this way.
I'm supposed to walk away without guilt, my swagger claiming I need to look out for myself, my tongue saying See ya later and not mean it, and forget that this--everything--was. Something's wrong and not going according to plan.
Sitting here in this perfectly climate controlled office with its view of historic buildings and students scurrying across the quad and determining driving routes, I'm distracted by thinking how much I'd like to cuddle with Spec, how I want to draw him against me and place my head on his shoulder. Why the pull/push? One day I want him close, the other, far. One day, I want him gone for good, the other, I want him.
What I want is control.
I push him away because he knows me inside and out, because I trust/ed him. Do you know each time we had sex we never used condoms? I don't know if I mentioned that before. That's how much I wasn't in control; that's how much I trust/ed him. Do you see what I realize, that control = distrust, and trust = a loss of control, and when I'm not in control--who knows what happens. This, I guess. So I rush to fill the egress, to reassert the control, which means cutting off the trust, pushing him away. Yet I yearn for Spec.
I guess it's that I'm not allowing myself to pursue the unknown Want. It's a cop out to say it's unknown; I know Spec intimately and he knows me intimately and without the emotional there could never have been the physical and the physical could never be fulfilling if it wasn't emotionally satisfying concurrently. It was never sex. It was trust in physical form. It was never lust. It was joy at opening the gates. It was never I don't know.
There's a reader of this journal who maintains a one-sided discussion on what I should and shouldn't do (no, it's not you, Bathsheba) and says I'm as queer as the poster child, but don't know it yet. I can admit this bothers me, but I am sincere in my puzzlement over the situation, as is that reader. Yeah, I've had sex with a man, but I don't look at other guys on the street and fantasize about sex with them. Yeah, I love getting head from a guy but it doesn't mean I'm going to look for that specifically. Yeah, I've fucked and been fucked but it doesn't mean I want to pursue that avenue.
This thing with Spec was more psychological than emotional, perhaps. No, I don't buy that.
It's hard to explain, to put into words the things I've thought about in fragments.
Partially, I recreated what happened with that guy when I was a kid. It was reasserting control, control of allowing it to happen now instead of when I was unable to exert enough control to stop it from happening. Does that make any sense?
I'm going in circles and am confused. Maybe I'm just horny. I want to taste his jizz and for him to plow my ass, and then I want to do the same to him.
In other words, I want to undo what I've done.
See, I admit that; but the control mechanism already shifted gears and there is no reverse.
Confused
Confused
Fucked up
eh?
