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4:06 p.m. - August 06, 2003
I do nothing right!
The singer's delivering a different tune now, but what's done is irrevocable despite how badly the desire to change history may be. Damn dangling particles and copulas and other mechanics that a good linguist ought to have internalized already. Let's see if I can butcher that sentence again, eh? Maybe later, when I'm in the mood.

I think I let the gay slut play last night because - because why? It was flattering? An ego boost? Good to see that despite my unattractiveness there was somebody attracted to me? And trust me folks, I'm not looking my best or half- or even quater-best. I don't know why I did it other than I wanted to and of course I'm damning myself on numerous points. I wonder if I have a problem with sex itself (don't laugh, please. I'm earnest); I liked last night for all the wrong reasons. I felt powerful, manly even, and I was too agressive at times, angry yet eager and desiring not him for him, but him for me. Does that make any sense?

So am I screwed either way? I mean, is it I'm too fucked up to be a bottom because I haven't dealt with issues, and I can't be a top because there's other, (latent?) issues waiting to appear? It's sex in general, isn't it? I can see that it's intimacy, trusting people, letting down barriers - that's what I struggle with. It's not a matter of am-I-gay-or-straight, it's about not wondering if I like a particular act because of Because or it's just something I like, devoid of external influences (is that even possible?).

I'm not making any sense.

Take II?

I'm not upset because I had sex with a guy. I'm upset that (a) I had sex; (b) I feel guilty being in a dominant position; (c) I used him; (d) It was gratifying enough that I could run with it and not look back, and I don't want to be one of those guys; (e) I worry I was a little too much like Spec; (f) and isn't (e) dangerous? Wrong? And lastly, the leitmotif, the design on the arras: I don't want sex, I want the whole rose bush.

Is that any clearer?

I suppose I could talk about the real issue, eh? I mean, you people who read this journal know my shit already and it's unlikely I'll meet any of you in person, so who cares, right? Lately - for a long lately - I've held back, uncertain. I don't know why. What's really bothering me is that I feel guilty and dirty yet nonchalant, and there's a part of me that refuses to enjoy gay sex, a final - and intransigent - rebuff against those actions of my childhood. If I don't enjoy (gay) sex, then I'm still ahead, I'm not fully possessed by the bogey man. Somehow, I'm still in control. But that's only part of it. Ah, I keep erasing. Briefly - just a second or two - last night I wondered if how I was feeling at that moment was the same as how he may have felt with me and I thought, What if I'm like him?. There, I said it.

See, not so difficult to talk about it sometimes.

Damn. Most people write about their pets or their colleagues. I throw it out there like manure.


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