11:16 p.m. - April 28, 2003
Much better tonight
Today�s session with Dr. Indy did not go well. Even in ideal, non-threatening and non-disclosing circumstances I don�t open up well or easily; in an anesthetic setting where the view out the window is a parking lot and the building hums with activity and I�m defensive, ashamed, and hostile, I retreat. But she knows how desperate I am for resolution and a grip � how often already have I said so � and she conveys her clinical brio with steely determination, not by throwing a life preserver but by grabbing me by the hair and saying Oh no you don�t. We talked about sex in generalities and she brought up the idea of a safe word, a term negotiated with an intimate partner used as a direct communication channel that enough�s enough, time out, raise the alert of Boundary issue! Boundary issue! without panicking. I had never thought about that, likely because sex with women, well, you know. I had no issues of boundaries or flashbacks during vagina sex, except for that time Dana thought she�d stimulate the heart of darkness and I didn�t realize she wasn�t simply intending to grab onto my ass cheeks. No need to delve into the prurient, but spelunking was a no-no.
So as we�re talking about the safe word concept I couldn�t help but laugh some when I considered the fact that there is a discernable lack of sexual activity going on. A safe word would be apropos were I having sex, and relying on this mental referee whistle doesn�t make it any easier to go out and get me some. We didn�t talk about that, which seems to me like ignoring the obvious in favor of the petits poids; must I use that despicable clich� about the elephant? If vagina sex were proffered on the right and man sex on the left, I�d have no trenchant cue for one or the other. That�s inaccurate; one seems easier and less of a hassle and do-able and to me, it�s self-evident. But.
It would be easy for me to hate that part of me � as if I don�t already � and to turn away, to be angry and scornful and attain the picket fence and minivan, be Regular. It�s in me to go to extremes and I would be the type that betrays insecurities via unequivocal hate. Like Aaron, my old once-upon-a-time friend who has a problem with gay guys. I have the same problem in many ways. I didn�t say so in that entry, but Aaron didn�t beat up the guy in high school alone; we both beat the girly-guy. I�ve always felt guilty about that and I don�t think about it often though it forms a salient sub-text to everything else, doesn�t it? I wonder about the origins of this kind of hate, that ingestion of venom that breeds acrimony and choler. I feel partly responsible for Aaron�s problem the same way I feel responsible for my problem with gay men. When we were younger � 11, 12 � we�d jack off together, get off via frottage, compare size. Later, when we were sophomores in high school, he gave me a blowjob. I don�t recall doing the same for him and I�m certain I�d remember it, but it was shortly after that we beat up the blonde guy who walked like a girl, held his books like a girl, and was all too girly as he walked home in front of us. Maybe there�s a connection, maybe not.
Looking back, I suspect I had a crush on him of some sort. He was the bad boy, I wasn�t. You know how it goes. I think about these experiences and I wonder how or why am I having a tough time now with the issue, especially in light of my determination not to fall into it again. But to get back to the point, I understand where Aaron may be coming from � from my own vantage point, obviously � because I feel that same anger and hostility; is his in response to what we did? I wonder about these connections. Tenuous suppositions, all.
I am disappointed that I can�t reverse course and be the way I was before. Cheated, stymied, punished.
I don�t want to get my hopes up but there�s something on the horizon far off, something I�m going to pursue. They want a current curriculum vita quickly; I haven�t updated mine for well over a year and a half. There isn�t much to add since I�ve accomplished little since. Enough flagellation; it doesn�t matter what I haven�t done, or what I�ve done half-heartedly, but what I will do, right?
Just say that over and over like a Tibetan prayer wheel. That�s the ticket. [Note to Twids: Bloody hell. It�s everywhere!]
