Why I'm always right (except this one time): a reasonable approach to the Harpy-Alcohol problem
I've been thinking about the alcohol problem again. It's been dormant for a while, basically since I abandoned my love for Petra. I thought it had gone entirely, because I thought I'd isolated the necessary conditions for my own self destruction. That is, it's not that it bothers me that people drink, it only when there is an element of love. Only when I've invested part of myself in that person do I experience the consequences of that action. Well, I had something invested in Carolyn, and her drinking did not bother me. In fact, I called her once while she was drunk, and used it for my own gain. I'm not happy about it, and I would like to think that I could have learned the same information from her if she were sober, but I was okay with it. Not happy, but okay.
I read something a whole back, an entry that Ilara and Noelle had posted after drinking lots of vodka. I was horrendously pissed off at that at the time. Now, I just roll my eyes. Not that I approve, not remotely, but I was foolish to condemn them for it. I guess the love condition is no longer satisfied. I sort of have her is a different column, though. I should call her....
Even so, I still have a vested piece of myself in her, or with her. So, by my previous hypothesis, I should still be suffering from it. But I am not. I have a vested piece of myself in Carolyn, so I should be suffering from that. But I am not. I saw a picture of Rosie with a half empty bottle of whiskey, and my heart beat so fiercely that it made the bed squeak, and I can't say that I had invested myself in her. Moreso than, say, Keith, but certainly less than Carolyn, or anyone else I've listed. By my hypothesis, I should have brushed it off. But I did not.
experiment failed.
The reason this is on my mind again is because of Courtney. She innocently had a glass of wine last week while she was at home and it really put me off. I kind of wanted to jently push her off the couch, roll over, and talk to her the next day. Instead, maybe out of fear of complete romantic loss, or fear of again being hollowed out again, I went after her. Mentally, I took a step back, so to compensate, my body took one too many steps forward. It was not far off from my misshapen physical relationship with Petra, inwhich I had sex for my own gain. "Because I earned it." Horrible, horrible reasoning, but I refused to acknowledge the resentment that fueled the emotional retreat, so I could not reconcile it this way. It wasn't like that the whole time, but it... I don't know. I ended up cursing myself for it all. Not that she did not consent to everything that happened between us, because she was more enthusiastic about it than I was. Who can imagine why...
On second though, don't imagine it.
Maybe I'm just physically incapable of having sex with someone I genuinely love.
I've diverged from my point. What was that again? Jumping all over Courtney, right...
I didn't want her to know about my retreat. I didn't want to admit I still had this problem. Surely, in the interest of truth, I should tell her about it, but I'm certainly not going to persue the conversation. Fuck it- I'm posting it on the internet. Consider the world notified.
My conclusion, which I'm happy to say has nothing to do with love, is that it is not a reaction to alcohol, rather it is a reaction to deceit. The fact that alcohol is involved certainly plays its part, but it is when people who claim to abstain from alcohol imbibe the stuff that I turn into a monster. Love can remain pure, alcohol is not the evil, and truth is once again the ruling force in my life.
Courtney and I aren't *technically* dating, but it seems silly to try to make a distinction at this point. Particularly after taking the physical liberties I did with her... She really wants to make it *official* but I don't know... I think I've forgotten what love is like. I mean, I like her, for sure. I miss her when she's gone, which is something I can't even say for my own mother. But love? No. Not yet at least. I probably would have gone in for the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing if I hadn't been put off, as mentioned above. I feel like a douche bag for saying it, but I didn't want to enter into a real relationship until this was resolved. Not resolved between she and me, that sort of thing has proven utterly useless in the past. Besides, there's nothing to resolve. I had already invited her to abuse me, which I guess I stand by. It is a problem. In me. I thought perhaps she was as firmly against alcohol I am, but I should have known better. I have found one person in the world who is of similar constitution, and that's Darren Bedford of Bedford Unicycles in Toronto. Even Kara has had more to drink than I have.
Courtney is in love with me, which means a year from now, I'll have hurt her badly, and perhaps she likewise, and she'll be wishing that she hadn't gotten involved with such a zealot as me. I already have everything I could possibly demand from the relationship- she's in love with me. So, what's the point?
The ambiguity seems to be frustrating her. She doesn't believe me when I say I like her. Even after laying in bed together for a few hours absentmindedly finding little bits of each other's exposed skin to brush with our finger tips, it takes status to prove my word.
I'm only a little adverse to getting "involved." All I can see it bringing is a greater obligation and more oppertunities to cause harm. I want to make her happy. I want to know her. This weekend, I guess I'll have to further explore the extent and nature of my attraction to her.
I read something a whole back, an entry that Ilara and Noelle had posted after drinking lots of vodka. I was horrendously pissed off at that at the time. Now, I just roll my eyes. Not that I approve, not remotely, but I was foolish to condemn them for it. I guess the love condition is no longer satisfied. I sort of have her is a different column, though. I should call her....
Even so, I still have a vested piece of myself in her, or with her. So, by my previous hypothesis, I should still be suffering from it. But I am not. I have a vested piece of myself in Carolyn, so I should be suffering from that. But I am not. I saw a picture of Rosie with a half empty bottle of whiskey, and my heart beat so fiercely that it made the bed squeak, and I can't say that I had invested myself in her. Moreso than, say, Keith, but certainly less than Carolyn, or anyone else I've listed. By my hypothesis, I should have brushed it off. But I did not.
experiment failed.
The reason this is on my mind again is because of Courtney. She innocently had a glass of wine last week while she was at home and it really put me off. I kind of wanted to jently push her off the couch, roll over, and talk to her the next day. Instead, maybe out of fear of complete romantic loss, or fear of again being hollowed out again, I went after her. Mentally, I took a step back, so to compensate, my body took one too many steps forward. It was not far off from my misshapen physical relationship with Petra, inwhich I had sex for my own gain. "Because I earned it." Horrible, horrible reasoning, but I refused to acknowledge the resentment that fueled the emotional retreat, so I could not reconcile it this way. It wasn't like that the whole time, but it... I don't know. I ended up cursing myself for it all. Not that she did not consent to everything that happened between us, because she was more enthusiastic about it than I was. Who can imagine why...
On second though, don't imagine it.
Maybe I'm just physically incapable of having sex with someone I genuinely love.
I've diverged from my point. What was that again? Jumping all over Courtney, right...
I didn't want her to know about my retreat. I didn't want to admit I still had this problem. Surely, in the interest of truth, I should tell her about it, but I'm certainly not going to persue the conversation. Fuck it- I'm posting it on the internet. Consider the world notified.
My conclusion, which I'm happy to say has nothing to do with love, is that it is not a reaction to alcohol, rather it is a reaction to deceit. The fact that alcohol is involved certainly plays its part, but it is when people who claim to abstain from alcohol imbibe the stuff that I turn into a monster. Love can remain pure, alcohol is not the evil, and truth is once again the ruling force in my life.
Courtney and I aren't *technically* dating, but it seems silly to try to make a distinction at this point. Particularly after taking the physical liberties I did with her... She really wants to make it *official* but I don't know... I think I've forgotten what love is like. I mean, I like her, for sure. I miss her when she's gone, which is something I can't even say for my own mother. But love? No. Not yet at least. I probably would have gone in for the whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing if I hadn't been put off, as mentioned above. I feel like a douche bag for saying it, but I didn't want to enter into a real relationship until this was resolved. Not resolved between she and me, that sort of thing has proven utterly useless in the past. Besides, there's nothing to resolve. I had already invited her to abuse me, which I guess I stand by. It is a problem. In me. I thought perhaps she was as firmly against alcohol I am, but I should have known better. I have found one person in the world who is of similar constitution, and that's Darren Bedford of Bedford Unicycles in Toronto. Even Kara has had more to drink than I have.
Courtney is in love with me, which means a year from now, I'll have hurt her badly, and perhaps she likewise, and she'll be wishing that she hadn't gotten involved with such a zealot as me. I already have everything I could possibly demand from the relationship- she's in love with me. So, what's the point?
The ambiguity seems to be frustrating her. She doesn't believe me when I say I like her. Even after laying in bed together for a few hours absentmindedly finding little bits of each other's exposed skin to brush with our finger tips, it takes status to prove my word.
I'm only a little adverse to getting "involved." All I can see it bringing is a greater obligation and more oppertunities to cause harm. I want to make her happy. I want to know her. This weekend, I guess I'll have to further explore the extent and nature of my attraction to her.