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7:57 p.m. - February 27, 2003
Ruminations on a telephone call from Spec and ensuing thoughts
Viewed the property; am not buying. Far too much of a fixer-upper and costs would likely exceed what I have budgeted. So I'm not a slum-lord yet; it is eventual since I have to get rid of the money before my goal of June, so I'll keep you posted. I know you worry.

Spec called and we argued and why, how, why! is it he can pull the strings the way he does? And I despise myself for this weakness, for responding to the tug. He brought up counseling again and I kept reminding him we now live in different states, are not dating, are not in a relationship and he said that's because I've chosen to try to throw it - and him - away; notice the phrase chosen to try. What kills me is that he is partially right - yes, I ended things when I didn't move to Seattle but what happened when he was here last week? I was as vulnerable and weak as always and I know that sends conflicting signals, but what else have I failed to do? I don't understand what's going on.

Brought up the hitting thing and he was defensive and again he put it back on me - I exasperate him, I frustrate him, sometimes I need help focusing - and fuck that. Yeah, so I have intimacy problems but I didn't hit him unless it was in self defense and he doesn't see it that way, he stops seeing period. You know what kills me? That if we were in the same geographic location I would run back to him, I know I would. I'm tired of these head games - where the fuck is the magic wand? And what hurts is that it is my fault - if I was more comfortable with the gay thing, if I didn't freak out during sex, if I would yield. He can be so gentle, you know? When it's just us he's a different guy, he's not worried about being macho and tough and straight, and his voice changes and it's that part, his vulnerable, guard-down part, that attracts me but you know, it's also that part that repels. With me, once I let you in, what you see is what you get; when I let him in, I didn't care about what he'd see and I would cuddle, I'd open up and talk endlessly, it seemed, I'd let go of my worries and let him take care of me. I wanted that without knowing I did and when he provided it, I felt safe - then contrast this with the times he'd become angry and he'd punch me over and over on the arms and shoulder and yell at me, furious over whatever I did wrong.

There was always an element of violence in our relationship, the type that starts fun but ends un-fun. This worries me, I wonder why I liked it. Because he was bigger and stronger he'd do the hickey thing or the finger thing and I admit, I liked the struggle, I liked that raw masculinity he's so proud of. But at the same time, I'd be a little scared, and those times when he wanted sex and I didn't, those times just sucked. So what does that say about me? I think I confuse/d him, maybe he didn't know limits because I didn't delineate them. Last spring when we camped at Pismo Beach he wanted me to do something for him that I flat out refused to do and maybe he thought I was flirting, playing hard to get, and the more I refused the angrier he became and eventually I gave in when he used his strength against me and hated every minute of it. I should have been more aware of things like that.

And when I bring these things up he plays Male and says that was long ago or you obsess on every detail only to throw them in my face, things I used to say to women myself.

I'm becoming more angry. I need to stop.

You know why I'm really angry? Because today I redid the dedication/acknowledgments and I took Spec out. And that hurts really bad. A long time ago he said something that made me cry, he said I love how you work hard to be the best in your field and that makes me proud and nobody had ever said anything like that to me before. And he smiled and said I cried too much but he loved that, too. I'd listen to those words when I needed to and Spec was one of the people I named outright, I gave him Dana's position. And today I took him out and I feel like a fraud, I feel alone of all things, I feel like I've done something wrong.

I wrote this book for me - how untrue, how untrue. I wrote it for my parents, I wrote it for those who loved me. And I let him love me once, but not any longer. And that's hard because I don't understand why he has to be the way he is and why I have to be the way I am.


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