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8:29 a.m. - April 07, 2004
Self-pity, per custom
Late last night Spec called and we talked for a while about the activities that fill our lives. He talked to me about his boyfriend and how they recently broke up and I was jealous and spiteful, asked if he hit him as well and I hoped for an affirmative reply if only to make myself feel better that it wasn't just me. Spec said he realizes I'm the only person who loved him unconditionally and that was true, I did, every fault and strength. But I'm no longer the fool I used to be; I know not to fall for his heartstrings even if I want to see him and cuddle. He asked whether I would be in Seattle soon and I said no and he knew I lied. When I said I have moved on and am dating and am happy he replied, I don't believe that in the obstinate way he's always been with me, where what he says is right and I'm secondary, I concede to his rightness. I miss him so much I can't stand it and I feel pathetic admitting this - once again - here.

But you know, all last night I thought about how his facade is tinctured by bitterness and disappointment similar though not, to my own. He is filled with as much uncertainty somewhere below and he knows guys want him for his body and little else, maybe view him as a third tool to bring to a pair of lovers who want to have some extra fun, but he's never had a partner of his own that lasted more than a month or two. I wonder what he's like with other guys and I admit it, I feel a special thrill that I was privy to, or I drew out from him, his secrets and the boy inside, that he has so much difficulty showing others. He says I am special and I half-believe that through my own bitterness that I am not the type that make guys interested; it's only after talking and hanging out do I morph from just being a nice guy to something worth knowing better.

It made me sad to think and talk about all my firsts with him. First kiss, first everything and before he could congratulate himself for being such a great boyfriend I added that he was the first who hit me, who would yell and punch and by the end of that time together had taken every bit of self-assurance I had and flicked it out the window like nothing important.

I am still angry. I don't understand why I just can't be done with it.


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