Noodling

What to do? What to do?

The relationship with "the guys" continues to be a

crazy experience. I so enjoy their company, but at some point I am going to wake up to the obvious realization that I am putting WAY too much energy into a sinking ship here.

I can see the pattern for myself: they sort of do what they please, on their schedule, and I take what I can get. Now I don't mean this in a mean way. They are not malicious, at least not purposefully.

But the pattern is clea

r: I love the time I get with them. I love every minute. I find myself counting down days and hours and minutes until we have some time together. It's right next to insane. And here's the really crazy part: I suspect they do the very same thing.

And yet, our actions toward each other don't support the anticipation. For example, they recently took a vacation of their own, without me. Any time their schedule presents a conflict for us, I lose out on the time together. We get to be one group of 3 people sharing life when we are in private, another group when trusted friends are around, and another group altogether when others are around. It's not fair; someday my mind and heart will BOTH accept that.

These are guys who routinely move heaven and earth to remove obstacles. They rarely let circumstances get the best of them; it just does not happen. I watched us back when we began to fall in love; on a whim, they called to say they missed me and would travel back to my town the very next weekend to see me.

I had a huge event last fall for which I had been preparing for months, and it all culminated in a big event several states over. I found out two weeks ahead that they had made preparations to be there, and to support not only me but many of my friends too.

But circumstances got the best of us; barriers exist that prevent us from ever being a polyamorous triad. I do not happen to understand those barriers because I view them as rather selfish, especially given the promises we all made to one another to journey together. But we won't be a family, and that breaks my heart over...

and over...

and over...

and over...

and over.

So I have been noodling on what I do next. What is best for the Journeyman?

I have no fucking idea.

On one side of the aisle is my conviction that I stick with this in the incredibly slim hopes this could come back together. But months after "the breakup," I am best served by giving up those hopes. So then what?

Be friends, or part ways altogether?

I realize that I absolutely love them, singly and together. I realize that I love myself when I am with them. I realize that I am having an awful time making plans for a life without them as partners.

Being friends sounds so nice and sanitary. Yet I cringed this week when I visited them and I spent the night in a guest bedroom. I hated it. And not because I needed wild rock-star sex. I just wanted to be close--or closer--than I was allowed to be.

I want more than this relationship can sustain, and being near them is so much harder than I expected. I keep seeing myself as part of their world, and I am almost certain they do not see it that way. They are moving on; I am not.

So what's best? Moving on completely? Breaking all ties? It brings me almost to tears just to consider it.

Yet how will my heart learn that those two aren't family unless I kill the relationship completely?

Steadfast

Major breakthrough for me this week...

I have a hard time moving on from things and adapting to change. I can do it, but only after some kicking and screaming. With this last relationship, there has been a lot of kicking, screaming, digging in heels and doing whatever it takes to keep it alive.

That could be tough because perhaps I should learn to on more quickly. But, what a gift, to remain so steadfast that my point of view and my goals did not change throughout this unorthodox relationship. Even now, I am still maintaining my original position, that I want to put our relationship back together. *That* should be admirable, and lend stability to an otherwise tough situation where some of the others made promises that were later broken and changed rules midstream without much consideration for how those would fully play out.

I never miss an opportunity to feel bad about myself; it seems I self-flog my own self repeatedly. For once, I found a reason to like myself, and I sort of like this new approach to find even small positivity in myself. Good for me, to be steadfast. Seems a lot like how God would want it.

"I wish I knew how to quit you"

(I have maintained quite a bit of anonymity here, though I suspect what I write about next will tip a few folks off as to who I am. So if this rings a bell, I just respectfully ask you allow me to remain anonymous.)

How do you quit somebody? Or somebodies?

In my last post, I lamented losing a boyfriend. However, that's not quite what I lost. Instead, it was two boyfriends.

Somehow, someway, without notice and without seeking it, I fell in love with a gay couple. And they with me. And it was good.

So good that I got lost in love all over again, and this time twice as bad because there were two guys. I wouldn't have gone seeking this, but I cannot help who I love, and I was willing to explore it. Unfortunately, we did not all see eye-to-eye on the future and on sacrifices and on supporting one another. And it was over.

On the breakup alone I could write and write and write, which I have in my journal.

My thoughts today revolve around a complete inability to move on. I still want them. I suspect one of the two guys also wants to continue, but dude #3 has closed the door in his mind. He has moved on. So the two guys are back together, but I am out there on my own.

We continue to communicate regularly because once I commit to something (and in this

case, I committed some extraordinary energy to making this relationship work), I stick with it. My word is everything. In my head, I continue to hope that we will come back together. I continue to dream about this great future in which the 3 of us tackle life, just like we said we would. I continue to honor the promise we made that we would not leave each other alone, that there would be no distance between us.

Yet on this very day, I am alone and without them. And they are on a vacation, without me.

"I wish I knew how to quit you."

I want to shout it from the top of my lungs. I want to cut off all ties and communications and scream aloud how wrong this is that I am alone again. I want to be angry, and then in the very next moment, I melt with memories of the triad we were and the tenderness that existed between us.

They brought some amazing things out of me, and I rose up out of a depression during our relationship. People who barely knew me asked why I was so bubbly and positive. Life decisions that had confounded me for years were starting to come together. A chance for a new career, a chance for a new place to live, a chance to receive love, a chance to shower my love onto two other people. Amazing stuff.

The affection, the fun, the exploration, the positivity, the companionship...ah, the companionship. It was more than I ever thought I deserved. So perhaps I fulfilled my own prophecy.

I cannot give up hope that we can get back together. Yet there is no evidence that we can ever be together. Dude #3 is not in favor of getting back together, and this is not a majority rules situation. We need 3 YES votes to continue forward.

Bad as the situation looks, I keep thinking about how great things could have been, and how crappy they have been since. And although there is so little hope for us to be together--to be a true Modern Family--I keep clinging to that virtually non-existent sliver of a promise of a chance that we can reconcile. I knew who I was when that relationship was great, and I loved me then. I know who I am now, and I like it a lot less.

So we keep talking, and I keep looking for clues that we can get back together. I hope we can experience a miracle of rekindling that great relationship. Yet it's not going to happen. In my head I know it; in my heart I refuse to admit defeat.

And so I torture myself. Continuing to stay in touch, hoping we can make it happen. I get a little hope up, then it goes away again. It's like tearing a bandage off my skin slowly, repeatedly, and experiencing the pain over and over. My friends all way, "Haven't you broken up with these guys 4 times by now?" In my mind, I have, because I catch a glimmer of hope and then I am crushed all over again when it doesn't happen.

I had dinner with them last week. I counted the hours and minutes until I could see them. Now they are on vacation for a week, and we have no way to communicate. It's crushing me; I wonder if they even remember me.

I wish I knew how to quit them.

When a break feels like failure

Crashing right into stuff after a two year absense...

I'm almost certain my current relationship is over, with a hard break taking up the month of July (at minimum) with little or no contact. Things really escalated around here when I shared my feelings, and that pains me greatly. I explained that I was feeling like an outsider and not always feeling safe because the rules kept changing and I was always at the receiving end of the changes (you can sleep here this night, but not that night; we'll introduce you like this when these people are present, and like that when those people are listening, etc.)

I was very careful to be factual with my feelings and not angry. The response was, "How dare you be so ungrateful, especially when work is so busy." About my personality: I need to have that environment in which I can explain myself safely, where someone is willing to inquire gently when I seize up (which I did over the weekend). I think this current relationship cannot provide that for me right now. That's not necessarily a bad thing, but it is bad for me. It's not an indictment of the boyfriend; it is rather a realization that unless some things change, the current format is not a good situation.

So my loneliness kicks in, and I feel like I am being excluded. This is probably the healthiest thing which could happen, but still....

I want to visit a nice, comfortable homes. (Actually, I want to come home to him; I'll never forget walking into this very room in which I am sitting for the first time and hearing the words, "Welcome Home".) I want to go to the Mediterranean on a cruise. I want to hang out with on a Saturday. I want to cuddle up at night. I want to walk around a warm and finely decorated home in an awesome area with two awesome dogs to play with. I want the backing of partnership as I go through a job/career change. Yet, I cannot have it. And honestly, I'm not overly angry about this...more like disappointed. I didn't make the cut. I failed the interview. I wasn't worth the hassle.

I know friends who met 18 years ago, and they lived on different coasts at the time. Within 6 months, they were living together in Philly and have obviously made it work since then. Of the longevity of that relationship, I am truly jealous. I had hoped to have a similar tale, and for a time I saw it happening. But it isn't happening. And it won't be happening.

So this feels like a failure. I feel like a failure. I couldn't keep up and I still feel terribly lonely with all my feelings and doubts I just had lunch with the former boyfriend, and damn it all if I didn't want to grab his hand and kiss him right there in the restaurant and listen to his friendly drawl for as long as he would talk. But it can't happen. And I feel like a failure.

So that's Square One....talk with you a bit later.

I'm back

I'm back...and I need to talk some more. If there is anyone, I mean anyone, still out there, stay tuned.

Hold, Please

As anyone who still stops by here has figured out, I am not blogging so much just now. I feel as if I am facing some fairly monumental changes right now: career changes, personal growth, and now, even a relationship (and for those wondering, it is with a guy.)

These all require my attention, and in some cases I have been avoiding the confrontation within myself by blogging, surfing porn, or just going to bed. No more: I have to face the fear within myself and press forward.....somehow.

The blog stays up for now, though I may not update the blog for quite some time. It is time for me to update my life.

Baggage

Prepare yourselves. You are about to head toward territory that I have taken you to before. I ask for your patience.

I remember finding the underwear sections of the Sears catalog hot.

I remember vacationing in Phoenix when I was in junior high. At the hotel pool, this Adonis of a man arrived and soon stripped down to a white speedo to catch some rays. I was awestruck.

I remember the first time I rented gay porn--which was a trick because I had to find the right store to rent from.

I remember spending the last 60 minutes surfing porn. It literally just happened. Like literally in the hour. What a waste.

All these memories become baggage. They become heavy items which I lug around, perhaps as some self-imposed penance for my attraction to the male body. The load, however, becomes too much at times.

I can be quite agnostic about many things, resisting the idea that I can know things for absolute certain. There is always some doubt. Always. So for me to arrive at the "I'm gay" conclusion and then just get on with my life is a very very large piece of baggage. I find myself asking, "How can I be sure I am gay?" Pinning my sexuality on which photos I liked (ie, Chippendales) and which I was ambivalent about (ie, Playboy) seems like a lousy way to arrive at conclusions about my sexuality.

But it gets worse...I know one of the reasons I struggle so much with accepting about myself what is often so clear to others is that I find so much of the gay culture disheartening. I am not a party boy. I am not a social activist. I am not a social butterfly with the hippest clothes. I do not want another Craig's List hookup, because I have done that, and then been just sick about it. I just find guys more attractive than girls.

There were not lots of guys in high school and college that I crushed on. Sure, Ian the tennis player was so cute, and Mark the pre-med student was built. But I never thought to myself, "Hmmm...I would like to date him" or "I think about him day and night" or "I wonder what he would be like naked in my bed." (Ahem!) Instead I just surfed porn in the corner of the library, usually finding my way to male underwear models.

And then sometimes I am just not sure. I saw the movie Milk last night, and I wondered if I was supposed to be attracted to the guys in the movie or turned on by the gay intimacy therein, but I was not. But when I saw the movie Marley & Me on Christmas Day, I also wondered if I was supposed to be excited when Jennifer Aniston got naked. Which I also was not.

The burden of being gay is too much for me knowing that (1) it's sometimes not all that clear and (2) what is out there does not hold much appeal. Many of the stories I hear about gay people is that they just could not hold back any more. Being gay was such a part of them that they had to go public. I don't feel that way. I feel like I could just go on being single and alone for a long time, because then at least I wouldn't have to feel the brand of society, especially in my part of the country.

But then again, I have to consider the couple times in my life where there was close intimacy with another guy. And it was wonderful. To just hang out with someone, to make dinner with them, to cozy up on the sofa to watch TV, to plant butterfly kisses on his head, to buy small inexpensive gifts which actually held much sentimental meaning, to go on a date. It was all pretty great. Like really great. Like, wow, holding a man that I really care about or having him hold me is amazing. And falling asleep with a guy....sign me up.

My words are failing me today, I can tell. Sorry gang. Perhaps this is what happens when one trudges over the same territory day after week after month after year. Perhaps my assumption is this: The weight of being gay and dealing with the stigma and pondering if God finds it acceptable and wondering if I will find someone to love is so heavy, that I occasionally wonder if I should just go try the ex-gay thing and see what happens. It has to be easier than this life of mine now.