1:05 p.m. - December 18, 2002
I still don't understand things
And as quickly as I enjoy this general contentment I feel bad, this time after looking out the window and watching crisp white clouds pass and thinking there must be a better name for this blue other than sky blue, listening to my music playing loudly in the background, enjoying a day off and deciding not to run errands (bank, check mail box) but wear flannels and thick socks, I begin to think about what it is I want and do not have. And after thinking for a few minutes, the clouds seem dirty, the sky less impressive, I remember I'm a slacker and must get to work.
I am tired of being alone, you know. Why and how is it that I desire people yet hide away and do my best to keep those interested in me at bay, outlasting their patience until they're gone? It's almost like a game and the players have no chance because the rules are in constant flux and I'm the referee. Last night A[deleted]a called and implored me to go out with her, to laugh some, and I said no, another time maybe and she knows not to come to my doorstep. And she is my closest friend. I do not understand.
I keep thinking about something Bathsheba and I talked about when I visited her in Seattle, about her conviction that there is a woman for me who would accept and understand the what and why of Spec. She was so earnest but come on, show me a woman who would not be abhorred and disgusted. Yes, perhaps I could find an open-minded woman somewhere in San Francisco who may even think it's kinky and fun, but that is not my type. I want a Christian woman and I also don't want to keep secrets from her. Pride is a sin but I do not repent my experience with Spec. I am not sorry for what I did with him and I'm convicted it was something I needed to do. I don't feel dirty for having had a relationship with another man, though I wonder how I could tell a woman about all of it and move on. How do these things work? Moments such as the one in front of the window make me think there is so much for me to learn about myself that thinking of others is impractical and there again is Practical Jason, so wherever I turn I have an answer and may as well give up.
I'm terrified of being alone like Conrad-the-neighbor and I feel insipid to worry about this during the holidays; if this is not a living cliche then I do not understand cliches at all. Well, that's a given already, but you understand my point. I want a family with more children than the house can hold, a wife with a sense of humor to make me laugh and who will feel as strongly about adoption as I do and find ways to make it all work. You know, I say this and to be honest I could go either way with a woman or a man, but I don't think it's possible for guys to be like that. I want to surround myself with people and hold them close and laugh and laugh and slay the demons that scare me with my laughter, to be okay with myself and not worry about imperfections or things I could have done differently, better, more efficiently. I want to feel secure within my body and open up and be vulnerable.
And that secret call that only Bathsheba knows is almost unbearable and I scoff, How is this possible, but it is unyielding, a test of wills. It just cannot be, though the pressure mounts daily. It's my secret dream, the hush-hush want that I don't understand. I go for walks in the rain and think about God and faith and what everything means, the faith that catches you up and whose call you obey because to do otherwise is like swimming in a round pool. I think maybe that's why things are the way they are, and that it's time for me to look past my hurts and fears and learn to swim after dog-paddling for so long. But I don't understand.
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It is now 2:01 and I've been invited to a party this Saturday. I said yes. You call it coincidence, I call it something else.
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It is now 2:13 and I'm going out. I'm going to go to a mall. This is a combat-the-fear thing for me. This is good.
