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8:55 a.m. - January 21, 2004
It is a credo, a tattoo: No can do
Whatever you consider emotional maturity or readiness to comprise, as if when prompted one can instantly refer to a master list of qualities and characteristics filtering the chaff and wheat or lamb and ewe, I feel like Iím grasping without resolve and earning the straw that is my due. Emotions are a silly, obtrusive maker-of-messes like a coterie of self-indulgent fauns attending a Bacchanalian soirťe and my emotions are neither arriviste nor emerging, simply there like an unformed blob covered with various chevrons left over from previous encounters.

Thinking about emotions incongruously manifests when I think about or engage in, sex. What is wrong with me that the mechanics donít subsume everything else and instead I see things in parallel circuit, or perhaps I overlook the obvious interdependences of sex triggering emotionality in me. Why canít I simply separate the two and be like everybody else? This is a rhetorical question so please, no comments.

It isnít being gay thatís the issue; it is the engagement of physical intimacy with another man that forms an immediate roadblock for each inch of ground I gain. There is no slip-and-slide beyond the curve; no, itís a continuous series of one thing after another that doesnít seem worth the effort. Having sex with a man isnít a matter of falling on the mattress or couch or floor and riding what people call the Wild Thing, a term Iíve never understood with either man or woman, to be honest. Ryan II and I cuddle on the couch after dinner, watching the news or channel surfing, and I can feel his dick pressing into my back and thus far, I donít worry, things are okay but since when do things stay where they are given the natural laws desire and biology? The minute he moves his hands, I freeze and there is no reason for this response; I trust him which is to say I am not afraid of him in that I allow him inside my house and donít mind Ė enjoy, even Ė cuddling with him holding me rather than vice versa. His intentions are innocuous, I understand this, I do, but my reaction is to freeze and worry and instantly lose certainty of purpose and comfort. And this is not normal.

It is difficult enough just to cuddle.

How does one be both gay and afraid of men? If I avoid sexual intimacy with men because I fear them, I might as well as go back to women because I can be normal, e.g. function emotionally and sexually.

I can be intimate and succeed when it is one-way, from me to another, but when I am the recipient I shut down Ė with the confusing exception of The Guy. Pleasing another exclusively can be Ė and is Ė interpreted as submissive yet Iím the one in control, though I struggle to keep that in mind when asked Ė made? Ė to do something I donít want to do, but if thatís the case then it is my fault for being so submissive. See the circle? And as much as I enjoy doing to another fucking makes me feel I-donít-know-the-word because I wonder, in the middle of things, whether my pleasure is the same as his Ė and do I need to spell out which his? Ė and I shut down. The reticence to top combined with the pleasure of (have to say it) serving make me a bottom and yet Ė being fucked just doesnít work.

It didnít work last night.

A 28 year old man shouldnít have to be comforted, urged, cajoled, held by someone who is 22 and simply wants to have a good time. That destructive Ė prescient? Ė call by Spec seeps through my pores: Youíre too much work and it is true. When Iím in control I lose, when I am not in control I lose.

Things Ė intimacy, foreplay Ė went well, very well in fact that I wanted to be fucked, I said yes but the minute he was over me and his cockhead bumped against me, it was all over. The first alarm I ignored, convince myself it is okay, this is pleasurable, I trust him, there is nothing wrong, the second when it was right against me and he was pushing in and I was pushing away, it was simultaneously a desire to stay and run. I shut down and closed my eyes and immediately he moved away even though I didnít say anything; I didnít have to, he said, because I looked wrong. We tried again but I was hyperaware and it was just a mess.

Later tried again. And again.

The difference between Ryan II and Spec, Eli, and Ryan I is that he doesnít force it in or I donít feel compelled to take it, something that makes me feel degenerate when I think about the notion that I respond best to those who closely resemble him. The topic is a recurring theme in therapy.

These are the things I think about when Ryan II wants to be intimate.

If I were emotionally mature, Iíd be in control and could do what my body wants.

And Ryan II says itís okay, he understands, delivers the entire I-sympathize-and-understand-because-Iím-a-nice-guy and perhaps thatís true, but it makes me feel worse when he says it because I know how things are Ė just as I was never satisfied with blowjobs and handjobs and wanted pussy, gay men want ass. You can have everything else but if the sexual element isnít satisfying, you might as well call it over.


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