So, I've been meaning to blog, and I happen to find myself with a few spare moments of being disconnected from any other distractions. So, despite being disconnected from the internet, a very unusual circumstance in my everyday life, I nonetheless have access to a word processor, and so, I type.
I have been dating this guy for... see now I'm actually doing the math. Almost exactly three weeks. And I don't know if by this time I had already given up on the marine biologist... I had this distinct feeling the first time I met Mr Mar-Bio that it was not meant to be. And even though I've only been dating this man for a short period, I have a very good feeling about this one. Not that that will actually mean anything in the prediction of the future, but its a nice feeling to have.
I was reading the book I checked out from the philosophy library (two weeks ago) today, and I'm glad I did. I knew why I checked out that book and it seems to be having the intended effect. Sex: A Philosophical Primer is some guy's 100 page summary of "if someone were going to make a philosophical study of sex, these are some things they should probably look at." I'm reading it in order to get a handle on my own feelings, to take control without strangling myself. To allow for the pleasant to occur without being led on into a painful recourse. I guess my real goal is to avoid becoming so attached that I get very hurt, but not be so distant if the connection really is good for me. So far, my instincts are leaning in the direction of "let go, have faith," but, I want to say I know better. In truth I know very little, but my experiences do not lend themselves to closing my eyes and falling backwards.
Although, I have to be honest. I, to my knowledge, have never been betrayed, not in any explicit sense. I have been emotionally manipulated within an inch of my being, at least it felt that way at the time, but if I were to be honest with myself, I have done all of the betraying in my romantic relationships. Not in all of them, but I know what I did, and I am sorry, not out of any romantic regret but simple human to human respect.
It's getting cold out here. Where is my boy? Light of my life, I await you. You'll already know that I'm here because my motorcycle is parked at your curb. Nonetheless I await you.
For the past many weeks I have had a secret hope that he would find my blog. I want him to know me, to know the things that I will not say, at least, would not vocally describe in such emotional detail, but I don't want to know that he knows. I have a crippling self-awareness, and so would be ever second-guessing what he thought about me in light of these facts, these musings, but nonetheless I do want him to understand me, as an emotional being. I do not flatter myself that my life has been so hard as to merit the poetic attention I give it, but, the pain is real to me, and if someone is to be intimately integrated into my life, they must be aware of that. Xero, I don't deserve the attention I seek, and it takes a lot of empowerment and selfishness for me to say that I want it anyway. I listen to you. I sit quietly, and you will just keep talking. You wear your heart on your sleeve. But I play close to the chest. This is how I communicate. I've gotten to good at keeping my mouth closed, and in truth, it is still important for me to maintain that state of discipline around many people. To break that habit for you, and to keep it up around others, is too hard. There's a term for it in cognitive neuroscience I'm sure, and if not it is definitely a well-described phenomenon. And besides, I will flatter myself on this, I am a good writer. Whatever it is, an intimate understanding of how others understand language, and ability to articulate abstract thoughts in ways that others can absorb, I have it. Usually, anyway. Some topics are harder than others. I'm just going to use that as my gett out of bluff free card.
Where are you, my sweet?! Your bane is here! To suck your life, to steal your soul, to poison the well of your well-being with concern for a person who will take and take and take and give until I die.
I am far too serious about this relationship. It is a little scary. I think mostly I'm scared of others finding out how serious I feel. Love at first sight is something you only get away with in fiction. Out here people look at you with a lot of... what is it? Suspicion? Worry? Doubt? Criticism. Disdain.
So many things to write about but they've all fled me now. Its getting very cold, of course by southern coastal standards which really isn't cold at all but my skin is prickling so stfu.
I have so much to do and I'm not doing any of it. I'm following my emotional self, to the death of objective, accomplishing self. But I'm growing, and with that I am attempting to find balance in my life. Of course what I really want to do is devote myself heart and soul and mind and body to my philanthropic cause, but the unfortunate fact is, I am human. If I ignore my other needs, love, friendship, comfort, intellectual stimulation outside the narrow range of my specific goals, then my accomplishment in that one direction will stagnate anyway. At least this is what I like to tell myself. If I cater to my human needs, then overall I will actually do better in my life's work than if I shunned them completely. This is my attempt to justify watching television and relentlessly (if a little shamefully) pursuing a gratifying sexual and romantic relationship. I will take care of him, and he will take care of me.
There is something that you can trust about senseless love. The way that oxytocin binds you into another person's mind. No matter how stupid, how sacrificial, how bizarre and inadvantageous to self an action might be, they will do it for you. If you are truly bound into a person's mind like that, you know that even when it is in their best interest, they will never hurt you. It's a trust beyond all other trust because you know that this devotion is beyond reason, self-serving motives, or sense. That even if this person went mad, they would tear down the house and destroy everything in their path and somehow, somehow, cut a circle around you, an island of peace and protection. In the rage of their mind you are suspended in a bubble, clear and beautiful and perfect, and you are the reason they live and die. Because that's what oxytocin does. And if you're lucky, your Bruce Banner won't have to turn into the Incredible Hulk to prove it to you.
And that's the thing. How do you know? How can you be sure that you are so securely bound into someone's mind like that, short of being the one person spared in their destructive rampage? By the way, this is not to say that love turns all people into rage-monsters. This is just an extreme and colorful example of what oxytocin is capable of.
I guess my question is, Xero, how will you know the extent to which I am devoted to you? People lie. And you don't want to think that I am lying but you've been lied to by people who said that they loved you, and so the thought is in your mind. I understand. And yes, I don't want to mislead you, I do have my doubts. Which is probably the only normal/acceptable emotion I'm having for a week 3 relationship. Would I move in with you? I don't know. Would I cosign a lease with you? At this point, probably not. Would I have your baby? Oh my god too much to think about. See, my friends would be proud. But this is all besides the point. I do feel very strongly for you. The fact that these questions don't already have answers is kind of a big deal.
Okay it is now 1:10 AM. I want to keep waiting for you, but... jeez man. This is getting a little ridiculous. Borrow someone's phone. Text me. Tell me wtf is going on. Conceptualize that I may not have checked my email and may just be sitting here at your front porch, being an idiot... Because, and I'm pretty sure this is true of other people too, I'm an idiot when I'm in love and there's the opportunity for emotional wholeness at the other end. I charge ahead reckless and foolish.
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