A Beginning. I think.

Jan 24, 2006 16:20

So, someone convinced me I should start writing again. Not that she came out and said, "Damn you, write again!" More of a mental push by myself, spurred on by talking to her. So, thank you, Sam.

You know, I've gotten really sick of people telling me things to try and save me from hurt feelings. Some people walk around on eggshells around me, afraid that I'm going to blow up or something. The only person I really blow up at is my mother, and that's because she just knows how to push my buttons to get me to do something she wants. She just has to put up with the explosion before I lamely concede.

I look around my apartment and wonder what I've become. Jack's Playstation is still here, as are some of his clothes. The trash needs to be taken out but the walk isn't so short and it's cold and windy outside. If I told Jack what's been happening the last couple of days, he'd probably just shake his head and say, "What the hell are you doing?"

What am I doing? Stuck in third gear, not able to kick it over and take off into the sunset. I almost feel right at the cusp, right at the threshold of making it, finally. Then something drags me back. A song, a movie, something. It's always an outside stimulis that makes me just... think. Am I happy here? Am I where I want to be?

Ever since moving back to Iowa, I've had this feeling like it was a mistake. Something just hasn't set right with me, like a piece of food lodged between my teeth... a nausea I haven't been able to get rid of. It just seems out of place, like I'm somewhere else. There's an episode of Family Guy where the family forms their own country, apart from the United States. That's how I feel. Disconnected. Just not able to put things together in the right order. But, then I ask, do I want to?

Do I want to change? Do I want to get better or would I rather just stand here and admire the sun setting in the far off distance? The coldness is behind me, the anger abated. I've realized more of who I am, and I'm not shocked anymore, nor am I disgusted with what I find. I'm a nurturer, a cuddler. Just once I'd like to fall asleep holding someone. The dim memories of those times are fading, and only with long reveries am I able to generate a picture and emotion in my head of what it was like. And gods, how good those memories are.

They are the only real good memories I have left of Nicole and Yenia. I don't think I'd mind being in a relationship where there was no sex. Sex isn't important to me, I've come to realize. It's not that I don't like it. Who doesn't? But is it that important? It's important to make a deep connection with someone, something that transcends all physical being, and sex is a way to help that connection, strengthen it, make it grow, but it's not absolutely necessary. People have lived together without sex before. But there's something else I don't think I can live without.

It's becoming difficult, to ride off into the sunset, and I think I know finally understand why that is. I sit upon a saddled horse, the dust kicked up from the animal's hooves, obscuring what is behind me just slightly. My clothes are old, worn, and have seen many better days. The hair on top ot my head flows about freely, tickling my skin and reminding me what it's like to really be alive. I breathe deeply, take in the fresh air, soaking up the sun's rays. I turn in my saddle and look to the horse next to me, and the rider on it.

But there is no rider. The saddle of the other horse rides empty, bereft of any markings now. Not even the previous riders leg-marks can be seen above the stirrups. It takes me a while to even remember who sat in that saddle last, when we tried riding off into the setting sun. The emptiness lifts out of the saddle, and like a shadow, slides unheard over the hardpan, and envelopes me. There's nothing really I can do at this point. What's behind me is too far away to be of any consequence. Even though I am called back, asked to turn around, or just to wait, I cannot.

My eyes strain into the sunlight as I search for someone I will find along the way, someone that can ride the horse beside me. Someone that will laugh with me, cry with me, and for heaven's sake, wake up with me in the morning.

I guess I'm just hoping for too much. I've already resigned myself to living alone for the rest of my life. I've heard the stories so many times before. "I like you as a friend, and I don't want to risk losing that." Bullshit. Stop trying to keep my feelings from getting hurt. You already did. Just tell me the fucking truth. If you can't even do that, then our 'frienship' is based on nothing but the lies between us, and I don't need a friendship like that.

Women, listen to me while I say this. Listen closely. Unless the guy is gay, if he is being a good friend to you, that means he wants to eventually move to the next level. It's part of the reason we become friends with women in the first place. People say that the best relationships start as friendships, and we know that. We may seem stupid, but we know that. We have to get you to smile before we can take the next step. If we didn't want to be with you, we wouldn't be friends with you. Harsh, yes, but it's the truth in almost every case.

Now, that doesn't mean that every guy is the same and wants exactly the same thing. Like I said before, I'm not hugely interested in sex. Yes, it's good, but if a woman I was friends with (read: I wanted to be with) told me that she wanted to be with me but didn't want to have sex, I'd say, "Great, let's hang out, cuddle, talk, and watch a movie together."

I just want someone to fill that saddle riding next to me. Someone that fits snug, so that I know she will be comfortable with our ride together, and I know she fits perfectly with me.

Is that too much to hope for?
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