Archive for April, 2008

When A Man Pulls Out

April 29, 2008

I try, I really fucking do.  I like to imagine myself as this sexually liberal, uninhibited, unemotional, sex addict.  I know…most of those things are desirable personality traits, but remember we’re talking about me, the guy who romanticizes mental illness.  Out of all of those qualities I possess 2.5 of them.  At this point, I’m pretty sure I could get a diagnosis for sexual addiction (not that I’m planning on going to group therapy anytime soon), and sexual liberty and inhibition are no huge hurtles either.  But emotional attachment is kicking my ass.

I’ve known Sea Man for all of a week now, and I’m already getting bothered by how hard it is to see him.  Now, I’m not sure if I said that he was a very recent divorcee and a father.  Being with his kid sucks up a lot of his time.  I don’t hold spending time with his family against him, but when we can’t be together because he’s to terrified to have me be seen entering his hotel room, I feel a little lousy.

I’m 18 and out.  He’s 35.  To me that says something.  He can say he “admires my courage”, but inside I quietly resent him.  How can you work for a government that wouldn’t want you if they knew what you did behind closed doors.  They don’t care if a man wants to give his wife a rimjob, but he better not stick his tongue in a man’s ass.

It’s for this reason (among others) that I no longer (intentionally) sleep with married men.  I don’t like fucking someone I don’t respect.  This should be an open-shut case.  But it’s not.

There was something about the way he held me.  The way he made me feel so secure.  That’s not something I get often, and now I feel like he’s taking that away from me.  I told him from the beginning that I wasn’t looking for a casual sex partner.  I told him I was looking for a friend with benefits, but that the friendship was the more important part.

I know that I have a problem with putting to much in people.  It’s not even Sea Man that I’m so infatuated with; it’s what he represents to me.  He represents that archetype of a the strong, brave, handsome man who is always there when you need him to save the day.  A knight in shining armor.

But now, without seeing him, I feel like I always do when a man pulls out.  Empty.

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Sea Man

April 24, 2008

My greatest fault is my ability to fall in love. On a whim I can conjure all the necessary hormones to create the feelings of euphoria, security, and intimacy. But once the chemical reaction starts, it can’t stop.

I met him Saturday night. We drove up onto a concrete slab where someone’s home used to be. We talked for a while. Coyly and almost unintentionally I would hang my head while listening to his deep, southern inflected voice, only to peer up over the brim of my glasses and tempt him with a smirk.

In these moments I, the seducer, often become the seduced.

Later the heat from the friction of our bodies fogged up the windows, and I felt oh-so-much like Rose DeWitt Bukater. It’s the only time in my memory that I felt honestly secure while having sex. It’s trite, but the notion of being wrapped up in the arms of a strong man has always appealed to me.

I met him again last night, and he sneaked me into his hotel room. After I took my medication we lied there in the bed together and talked. He said he wasn’t out and that it had a lot to do with his recent divorce. I pressured him and eventually he cracked. He’s military.

About the conversation that followed I’ll only say, I still don’t understand how a gay man can support a law that punishes him for something he can’t control under the disguise of protecting him. I take it back, I’ll say two things. For all those who may not realize, being closeted on a job is not the same as being gay on a job.

But I don’t care about his politics.

He told me he would go back to California soon. Back? I didn’t even know he was away. “Don’t get attached,” he said. “Don’t worry we can still have fun,” he said.

“I won’t,” I lied.

I know it’s only a fling, but at the mere suggestion of a time limit, the writer in me awoke. A tale of unrequited love. Two men (well one man and a boy) separated by distance and years. It could have been the oxytocin subsiding, but already I was missing what I haven’t even lost. And admittedly, it turns me on to be in a relationship that won’t work out.