8:31 p.m. - January 26, 2004
Misanthropic sob fest. Spare yourself this one
Tonight driving home from the group session, realized I'm quite tired of Non-Descript. Unsure of what this means.
Discussed intimacy, not allowing people to get close. *Big Gay Whore talks about being embarrassed when tricks from a few days ago approach him and say hello and he doesn't remember their names. *Mini Gay Whore talks about bathhouses and gee, why can't he feel personal connections? And the therapists turn to me, What are your thoughts, Jason? and what can I say? Save your protests, ye ambassadors of the Great Gay P.R. Committee.
If I spew bile it's because I'm jealous and am angry I find it manifestly difficult to be intimate with a man. Reaching in, I find it difficult to be intimate, period, regardless of gender. During the session I looked back and could only find one - one - instance where I recall being there and enjoying sex and not worrying about duty, obligation, bad thoughts that hang like a specter. It was years ago, early spring, and Dana and I had sex on the couch in her living room and the sunlight was warm and I kicked back and she rode me and I watched the light in her hair and it was fantastic. That sound she�d make when she opened up always made me feel like a stud, like a real man. If I were to die tonight in my sleep, I�d be glad for that one time there were no barriers, no wariness or feeling like there was a piece missing.
Easy enough to discern Sunday night didn�t go well.
I panicked. Got sick and didn�t make it to the bathroom. Nothing like the fresh scent of wine vomit. I started to cry seeing everything fall apart and I don�t mind crying in private (that�s a lie) but never in front of somebody else and the cycle spun and today I�m telling myself it�s best to back away and nobody makes me feel bad about myself when I�m alone. Ryan II thought it was food poisoning. Maybe it was in my / our best interest to tell him a bit about why that type of intimacy does this to me but talking about it cheapens it especially when he�s on his way out the door. I can kid about being fucked, laugh and brush it away, offer a great blowjob instead. I can avoid the topic, offer a great handjob. I�ll lick a guy�s asshole, anything to divert attention or want and still it always comes down to that. It becomes top-shelf candy, becomes comments like you have a cute hole, I want to be inside, becomes frustrating for me and for him. Avoid it, want it, want to be close that way, give him reason to like me more.
I feel robbed and cheated and frustrated and alone and pathetic and angry. And I feel stupid saying this far from eloquently, much less articulately.
Better quit now. Drivel forthcoming.
It�s like I�m good for nothing. And I know this isn�t true but what is true is that I don�t have much to offer. No funny stories or a great heart or a body to lust after. I�m quiet and shy and afraid of people at my core and I hate with fire every bit of me. How have I become this? And that well-meaning saying then get up and do something about it makes me spit because it�s the doing something that makes it worse and the questions stack up � maybe it�s the way I do things, maybe it�s one of a million controllable factors and I feel good when I see myself taking it slow with a guy who�s interested in me and I�m open to him, feel really happy when I am comfortable kissing him, think I�m in control and hope forms a world when I can be intimate, exposed and not be afraid and then it�s all gone an instant later.
