4:08 a.m. - August 07, 2003
Couldn't sleep or read, so I went for a walk and like always in these situations, I wish I had brought my camera along. Thought about Spec and his arrival later today, about picking him up at the airport, bringing him to the townhouse. I'm having second, third, many more, thoughts on being near him, enough to make me wonder, What was I thinking?. I'm like a buoy, up and down on whichever swell comes my way, whether named Spec or Jarrod or anybody else. It isn't love or lust but something far more basic, similar to an oxygen molecule's drive to bond with helium not for the sake of something bigger, but simply because it must. And that's completely out of whack because I would never admit I'm needy, especially to a man, but that's what it seems like. I want, need, someone to - what's the phrase, Twids, - have my back, not hold my hand. Is there a difference?
Why not Jarrod, for instance? Because he's not man enough in a sense I cannot explain. He cannot make me do things, he cannot make me want to do things, he cannot make me enjoy something. That's fucked up and it seems like what I'm really looking for is somebody who makes me feel like a child taken advantage of. Whoa. Maybe I've hit on something there; is this about recreating the past? No, that isn't logical.
I don't want sex, I want communion with people. It just seems that communion, sex, finding a place and belonging, creating a nexus of Me, boils down to, QED, playing the game by the rules already established. You know, I'll never be happy until I'm happy with myself.
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