11:28 p.m. - January 17, 2004
Ryan II called this morning and I was short with him, feeling uncomfortable still about what happened the night he slept over and looking back over the conversation, I was being obstinate. When I convince myself itís for my own good and that of others to detach and get away from people, I pursue the conviction with the zeal and passion of the Mormon trekkers seeking their paradise: Nothing short of scorched earth. Conversation ended and I got back in bed and about a half hour later, Ryan II is in my backyard knocking on the window because I didnít get up to answer the door. We talk and I feel silly, itís being near people that encourages weakness Ė err, openness Ė and how easy to be cold and aloof when not sitting next to someone who keeps wanting to hug you. I donít understand it, I donít see what others see in me to tolerate the baggage that weighs me down other than to view those who are interested as predatory and malicious, possessing motives for their gain and my loss. We talked about what had transpired that night and I was surprised Ė chagrined, embarrassed Ė to learn that it wasnít the first time I had talked in my sleep while he was next to me, though I hadnít woken up then. He woke me up because he didnít know what to do and he was worried Ė scared for me Ė and I tried to explain what itís like and why I become scared, how itís like being stuck in a dream even after your eyes are open and your brain knows youíre awake but itís similar to having blood rush into your limbs: Youíre cognizant of being aware yet powerless and not in control until the process is completed and youíre free to go.
There is no evading things when someone wants to knows whys and how comes, is there? Barebones version to head off pity Ė thatís what I despise most of all, even the hint of it Ė and frequently he interrupted to ask why I hadnít told him earlier, you make more sense now.
We went out to eat and then drove to his parentís house, watched a movie and cuddled. Weíve established a safe word so to speak and afterwards Ė gloss right over the intimacy that was fulfilling and I was so happy Ė we talked and before I knew it, we were intimate again, a languid and sweet experience.
I would say made love but I donít believe two men can do that.
You know, I write about how much I distrust people yet yearn to be close to them, to achieve intimacy, and itís like a pep talk Ė posturing, idealism, be all you can be Ė and underneath it all I doubt the very thing I aspire towards. People in relationships donít have to talk about the things that bother them, donít have to talk about baggage and issues; it is so much easier to feign intimacy and camaraderie like going to a restaurant with friends and emulating Seinfeld Ė a lot of talk about nothing. And maybe one or both partners in the relationship put on a show or manifest effort to keep things going and it works for a while before petering out, yet both can keep to themselves a great deal. This is what I donít have, because anybody I sleep next to may become privy to my secrets and my baggage, the dark things in my head and past that intrudes on the present when Iím both ambulatory and asleep, though itís in sleep that I become an open book. The fundamental option to disclose or keep private those things that I seek most to hide is not an option if I wish to sleep next to somebody, though the flip side is creating a false intimacy or an early unloading of baggage before somebody truly desires to stand near and bear it with you.
I donít trust the things he says; Ryan II will become Ryan Who and it pains me to think this as Iím watching him across the room right now, after he encouraged me to write in my journal Ė and he even admitted he tried Googling it Ė and he still wants to be in my life as much as Iíll allow.
And this despite finding out his downtime love Ė Legos! Ė and realizing heís a keeper. I laughed and said I am too old to play with Legos but before long I was on the floor with him. A step back and a pause, a thought: If I didnít feel comfortable with him deep down, I would never have let the kid out and played alongside him.
And I have permission to post this photo as long as I also post the one of us both. What he doesnít know wonít kill him. He is too cute, too nice, too beautiful for me, an alluring mixture of man on the outside, kid on the inside, an enticing and wary formula:
And Oz, Iíll share with you certain other photos, per our conversation.
Hoping for hope is too much; I aspire for a glimmer.