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8:33 a.m. - November 28, 2003
Sometimes it's easier to be habitual than adventurous
Ryan II calls me his renaissance man, thinks I'm cute, likes my eyes especially when they're green and always when they're brown, loves my smile and laugh, telephones twice a day to say hello - see what I'm doing, and I want space to breathe.

In other words: The sex was great, the personality less so. Incredulous, I know. His pursuit (?) unsettles me; I distrust his eagerness, his compliments. A compliment or two does not induce me to put my legs in the air, but it is sufficient to cuddle and kiss.

I am dismayed by my reaction towards him and I don't refer to personality or character but my own motivation instead. I can see the allure of recreational sex as purely that - a little sucking, a little thrusting, and voila! time to go home - and for me this physical intimacy seems to keep loneliness at bay with a nearly-camouflaged attempt at feeling connected with somebody, anybody, for however much time the encounter lasts. Is one consequence of being gay being starved of intimacy so one makes hay while the sun shines even though afterwards one realizes the hay has disappeared with the closing of the door?

Or perhaps intimacy with one is replaced by a multi-longitudinal involvement where the agent invests himself into everything with passion and thus feels whole and complete and proclaims, I don't need _____ because I'm happy, with sexual intimacy - fleeting or not - is purely extracurricular. Uncomplicated, like dancing with strangers at a club; it doesn't matter who, as long as there's somebody to be with.

As for Ryan II, I'm keeping an open mind, am trying to see past his initial reaction to coming inside my house: You have so many books! Ugh. I hate to read.


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