So I have a date with UIW1. Inevitable, I suppose. Why? I think it's an auto-de-fe' of sorts, a proof to myself that I still can do this. She is, after all, UI. And it's not like I'm quite so easily over my past relationship. To the contrary, I wonder how my ex is doing nearly every day. I hope she's OK, but engaging with her doesn't seem like it does anything but piss her off, so I've ceased all communication with her for over a month now. I'm surprised at my self-discipline, actually - I haven't looked at her blog even once, not in two months. There simply can't be anything I need or want to see there, so what would be the point? Have I at long last learned to stop damaging myself unnecessarily? Probably not; it's probably just powerfully buttressed by the chemical assistance I'm getting from all the meds.
So I'm back up to full strength on this one drug I'd stopped taking a few years ago and it seems to be working pretty well...and it's making me feel like an idiot. Why? Well, what if going off this one drug was what set in motion all of the events that lead to the growing depression, getting fired and the end of the relationship? What if I'd stayed on it? What if I'd started taking it again along with this other one I started taking a year ago or so? What if, what if....crazy-making hypotheticals.
Back to the date with UIW1. This is distraction, I guess, a way of tossing a stone into what looks like a bottomless, black pool of empty days or years of loneliness stretching ahead. What are we going to talk about? Probably how very inappropriate we are for each other, our various meds, the fine contours of our illnesses... Very romantic.
At the same time, there's another woman (friend of a friend) who is clearly interested in some sort of hanky-panky when she's in the area (she lives in another state). I'm just not into it. She's funny and smart, but this isn't my thing. What would be the point? Besides, as previously noted, she's married (poly marriage).
What else...the weird, borderline-addictive porn & masturbation behavior has just....stopped. It's not like I've made a conscious decision to stop it; it's just kind of stopped. I'm not sure what that means. I think it's good, though it too is probably the result of much medication. I feel stirrings of libido here and there that require satisfaction, to be sure, but not in the self-abnegating, mechanical way that started back around September of last year and really just got worse and worse. Once I'm working again I'll be in therapy and see if I can chase down what the hell this is/was about.
So much uneasiness, so much loss, so much regret, so much uncertainty. Surely I'm ready for dating.
Thursday, May 31, 2007
Thursday, May 03, 2007
Occasional Confession IV
Post-relationship flirting invariably leads to either nothing or trouble. So the current roundup:
#1 UIW1* - flirting continues, but this can only be trouble
#2 New flirtation with married woman who lives far away and already has another lover, so this is merely to keep oneself occupied and in practice; still, she is brilliant and very good at the on-line flirtation thing, so its not time wasted.
#3 UIW2 - flirtation died away when depth of psychological troubles became clear. Could only have been trouble anyway.
Are these all possible signs of common sense rearing its head?
Please.
************************
UIW - Utterly Inappropriate Woman
#1 UIW1* - flirting continues, but this can only be trouble
#2 New flirtation with married woman who lives far away and already has another lover, so this is merely to keep oneself occupied and in practice; still, she is brilliant and very good at the on-line flirtation thing, so its not time wasted.
#3 UIW2 - flirtation died away when depth of psychological troubles became clear. Could only have been trouble anyway.
Are these all possible signs of common sense rearing its head?
Please.
************************
UIW - Utterly Inappropriate Woman
On the Childhood Origin of Perverts
I think my proclivities were mostly the result of lurid covers of mystery books owned by my father (I remember in particular a frisson created at age 8 by one of a large-breasted woman with a look of desperation on her face being pulled/held below the surface of the ocean by a man's hand. Something about the look on her face just affected me powerfully in ways I couldn't then specify; I knew there was something 'dirty' about it, and that I'd get in trouble if I was caught staring at it, but I didn't even know what sex was yet, much less what this was about.
In the same period when I was gazing at these hard-boiled mystery book covers (and at some salacious record covers of my dad's - thank you Les Baxter, Martin Denny, and Herb Alpert!), there was a series of plastic model kits being sold by the Aurora company that featured lurid tableaux that you could glue together and paint. One was "The Victim" - a woman about to be raped, or ravished, or harmed in some way. I seem to recall a dungeon tableaux as well, equipped with a busty attendant or victim. I wanted these, though I couldn't have said why at the time. They are evidently now highly prized collector's items; I'd buy them if I had the scratch.
At about the same time, I was a big fan of the Batman TV show, which always featured our heroes being tied up by one villain or another. My favorite episodes were when Catwoman was the villainess - that lead to a fetish for spandex & catsuits that is now 35 years old. There were other moments too: an episode of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. that had one of the protagonists tied to a chair being tortured by sonic waves or something like that.
Also at this time, there was a slightly older girl in the neighborhood, the American-born daughter of Filipino immigrants attached to the same Navy base my father was stationed at. She must have been 10 and she liked to play a variant of chase/doctor/victim-and-rescuer in which I'd chase her, catch her, 'inspect' her (never all that explicitly), at which point she'd dramatically escape and pin me down, always careful to position her crotch right over my face. This was enormously exciting in ways that I didn't understand at the time. This may have been the origin of my attraction for more darkly-complected women, come to think of it. I can still picture her dark brown legs holding down my arms while her rainbow-patterned bathing suit hovered over me.
All of this was in the early 1970s. Polymorphously perverse little creatures, children. Now from all this you might assume that I ended up a submissive or at least a bottom. Nope; confirmed dominant/top. That switch didn't occur until adolescence, though, a topic for another time.
In the same period when I was gazing at these hard-boiled mystery book covers (and at some salacious record covers of my dad's - thank you Les Baxter, Martin Denny, and Herb Alpert!), there was a series of plastic model kits being sold by the Aurora company that featured lurid tableaux that you could glue together and paint. One was "The Victim" - a woman about to be raped, or ravished, or harmed in some way. I seem to recall a dungeon tableaux as well, equipped with a busty attendant or victim. I wanted these, though I couldn't have said why at the time. They are evidently now highly prized collector's items; I'd buy them if I had the scratch.
At about the same time, I was a big fan of the Batman TV show, which always featured our heroes being tied up by one villain or another. My favorite episodes were when Catwoman was the villainess - that lead to a fetish for spandex & catsuits that is now 35 years old. There were other moments too: an episode of The Man From U.N.C.L.E. that had one of the protagonists tied to a chair being tortured by sonic waves or something like that.
Also at this time, there was a slightly older girl in the neighborhood, the American-born daughter of Filipino immigrants attached to the same Navy base my father was stationed at. She must have been 10 and she liked to play a variant of chase/doctor/victim-and-rescuer in which I'd chase her, catch her, 'inspect' her (never all that explicitly), at which point she'd dramatically escape and pin me down, always careful to position her crotch right over my face. This was enormously exciting in ways that I didn't understand at the time. This may have been the origin of my attraction for more darkly-complected women, come to think of it. I can still picture her dark brown legs holding down my arms while her rainbow-patterned bathing suit hovered over me.
All of this was in the early 1970s. Polymorphously perverse little creatures, children. Now from all this you might assume that I ended up a submissive or at least a bottom. Nope; confirmed dominant/top. That switch didn't occur until adolescence, though, a topic for another time.
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