Terror EBM and fucking TRAAAANCE!!!
...got that out of my system. Anyway, cut that last post short 'cause the topic of the post walked through the door. Maybe I'll come back to that one. Anyway.
So I've had a Teela Brown, a Juno, a Cheeta, a Marla, borrowed someone's O once, and uhhh...the literary references fail me. There are others. My infatuations and deliriously happy memories folder is a molten menagerie of exaggerated affective gestalt. More importantly, I get why I'm lonely now. Here's what I've come to understand about myself.
All research seems to indicate that the process of romance, sex, and love (geeehhh...) between people is generally uniform and astonishingly predictable. You:
a)gain mutual interest and attract attention
b)posture yourself to display interest
c)exchange superficial interests
d)exchange values
e)integrate peer networks and identity
f)formalize bond
...I think I skip steps. I think my priorities are backwards--not like I have to change them, but like I should probably get used to being, ah...fundamentally different.
Familiarity doesn't really precede integration for me. Physical and psychical don't really have that much declensive deviation for me. I follow obsessively thorough patterns for establishing trust, but I like to accelerate the process as much as possible. I like to play in trust, not with it. And I don't think I react as strongly to loss as I'm supposed to. It's like my values are constructed, not so biologically driven as I would prefer to suppose. I get the deepest fulfillment out of the shallowest things. I'm obsessed with novelty. I'm obsessed with power. The responsibility inherent to games of control is more thrilling than the whole act combined--this is only the surface, I'm sure. Because I've become nothing but more sexualized the entire time I've been moved out. Is this a natural state, or have I become a Howard Beal creation? Is all of this pure rationalization, and the objective reality as prurient, vulgar, and crass as one might suppose from simply observing my behaviour? Am I losing respect for others, or refining my understanding? Is my behaviour pathological? Is it morbid? Am I unwell?
So I've had a Teela Brown, a Juno, a Cheeta, a Marla, borrowed someone's O once, and uhhh...the literary references fail me. There are others. My infatuations and deliriously happy memories folder is a molten menagerie of exaggerated affective gestalt. More importantly, I get why I'm lonely now. Here's what I've come to understand about myself.
All research seems to indicate that the process of romance, sex, and love (geeehhh...) between people is generally uniform and astonishingly predictable. You:
a)gain mutual interest and attract attention
b)posture yourself to display interest
c)exchange superficial interests
d)exchange values
e)integrate peer networks and identity
f)formalize bond
...I think I skip steps. I think my priorities are backwards--not like I have to change them, but like I should probably get used to being, ah...fundamentally different.
Familiarity doesn't really precede integration for me. Physical and psychical don't really have that much declensive deviation for me. I follow obsessively thorough patterns for establishing trust, but I like to accelerate the process as much as possible. I like to play in trust, not with it. And I don't think I react as strongly to loss as I'm supposed to. It's like my values are constructed, not so biologically driven as I would prefer to suppose. I get the deepest fulfillment out of the shallowest things. I'm obsessed with novelty. I'm obsessed with power. The responsibility inherent to games of control is more thrilling than the whole act combined--this is only the surface, I'm sure. Because I've become nothing but more sexualized the entire time I've been moved out. Is this a natural state, or have I become a Howard Beal creation? Is all of this pure rationalization, and the objective reality as prurient, vulgar, and crass as one might suppose from simply observing my behaviour? Am I losing respect for others, or refining my understanding? Is my behaviour pathological? Is it morbid? Am I unwell?