I feel love
05.02.05, 11:23 a.m.

I'm really frustrated with Diaryland. I keep sending them e-mails to ask what's up with my comments, and they don't reply. Not that I think that whining here will make them respond, but this seems to be a part of a long stream of people for whose services or products I've paid not replying back to me. Bastards.

This weekend was absolutely lovely. The couple had one of their infamous parties, and I actually managed to remain outgoing and perky for the large portion of it, and managed to acquire a lovely full-body soreness in the process.

I also have to admit to myself that somehow, somewhere, part of the natural submissiveness that I thought was all-encompassing in my personality has yeilded enough of itself to make room for a playful predisposition towards being more dominant. I felt like a kid in a candy store when I got the opportunity to "stand in" for Jer's favorite top. So it's official: the abject horror I think I experienced initially at the thought of causing someone else pain-- whether they wanted it or not-- has faded (though I can easily draw it to the surface if I dwell on it too long. This is an interesting life I have chosen to lead, often as disquieting as it is fulfilling.)

There were parts of the weekend where I wanted to run away screaming, though, and not because there was a fellow there with a disturbing talent for inserting large, long nails into his head through his nose. I wanted-- no, needed to be alone. I wanted some space that I could say was my space, and then I wanted to sit in my space with my knees pulled to my chest and pretend that no one else existed or expected anything of me, whether those expectations be real or imagined.

There's this guy, the guy I met in Boston, who was there, and he's a moody little music-loving boy, as fragile psychologically as he is physically, and we did this insane dance this weekend wherein we'd occupy the same space and occasionally touch with the desire to do more, and yet we wouldn't. It was weird and awkward when it didn't need to be. I only made it more awkward when, after having left and sat in my car for fifteen minutes, I went back into the couple's house, dragged him away from what he was doing and into a side room, and kissed him.

He reacted like an asshole-- you know, the type of asshole that you don't get angry at because they're not being malicious, but they're clueless and/or behaving under the influence of social anxiety or something similar? Right.

So after having stayed up all night drowsing and singing songs from the mix CD he made me, holding hands and talking about mutual love of music plus other things, his reaction to me kissing him was to kiss me back. Well, and then to sort of stand there awkwardly and chuckle and then say, "Can I go back out there now?"

Being confident enough to know that he likes me and that he has issues (and having some insight into his patterns of behavior), I realize that he was probably beating himself up for being an asshole, and expect an e-mail or letter to that effect.

Which is cool. Next time, the plan is to put aside the awkwardness and make out with him. I don't even want to have sex with him. I just want to kiss him! He's so tragic. I can't help it.

I also met (and made out with) one of Jer's other girlfriends, a woman who I immediately felt a kinship with. While we are both different, it seems more of a difference that happened because we were born to different parents, and were in different surroundings. On some deep and intangible level, I felt like we were the same. It's odd to feel that way about a person, and it could be that we simply have the same mannerisms and preferences. I need to keep in contact with her, as she's a possible source of spiritual kinship as well.

And sometimes, when I think about this weekend, I bury my face in my hands and blush.

0 left an honest verse