It's been over three months now since I last blogged, a rate of posting that I did not anticipate or prefer when I started this endeavor as a New Year's resolutions of sorts. I'm not sure that will actually change (probably not; possibly self-fulfilling, but also realistic), but after the events from last night/this morning, I figured this was a good time to get an entry in, if only as a means to an end, that end being some kind of awareness or understanding of what the fuck is going on in my Life.
A couple of events have transpired in those three months, although not as many as I would have liked, but I can't afford to disavow progress of any kind. One is that I'm back on Accutane therapy. I was on a regimen of topical retinoids, and both topical and oral antibiotics for months (at least three). Nothing was really working and there were side effects (rash, gastrointestinal issues) to boot. Plus, slathering topical gel all over my upper body each night was adding a good 10 to 15 minutes to my nightly routine, which, when already only getting 4 hours of sleep on an average work night when I exercised, was not acceptable. As of this writing, I've been on 120 mg of isotretinoin for two months now with my next appointment on Monday. The difference is, again like before, night and day. Is it perfect? No. Does it have side effects of its own? Yes (however, they're not as extreme as last time). But, am I reasonably satisfied? Yes, thank God, honestly. It's certainly not the cure-all in terms of my self-confidence, but it has helped immensely. The question is how long my dermatologist will let me stay on it. I'm hoping she'll up my dosage to 160 mg tomorrow and that I can stay on it for at least another two or three months (I was on it for six months last time). As long as I'm on it, my skin is essentially clear, but once I'm off, I have only precedent to guide me in expecting that it will probably all come back again, something that inspires dread in me, literally. However, that is a worry for another day. The basic premise is that this is a pretty good thing, I must admit.
The next major event is that I turned 29. Yes, the last year of the twenties. I had a vague sense of anxiety starting at maybe 27, but prior to that, I never really felt like I would be the sort of person who worries about milestone birthdays. However, as I now accelerate rapidly toward the thirties, I begin to realize how much time I have wasted. Unfortunately, that doesn't seem to be enough to get me to really change anything in any material way. H and I sort of made a pact to make this last year a time to take on new initiatives in the directions we wanted to go, and I believe she has done so to an excellent degree, but I mostly stagnate. There is one step I have taken, which I describe below, but first some more (mostly) happy words about the actual birthday (some details might be slightly off since it's been a while and my memory is highly selective):
I had taken the actual day (a Friday) off, and it was the first day off of my "summer vacation" where I would be off for the next ten or eleven days or so. I had been kind of quiet about the fact that it was my birthday, and I really wasn't expecting much in terms of seeing anybody. I didn't even think FREd was off that Friday, but Thursday he asked what I was doing and if he could spend the day with me. I apparently had been almost too quiet that week for his tastes (I may have been off work IM that week or something), as he expressed concern about almost being shut-out and feeling bad about possibly not being able to be with me on my birthday, which I found very sweet. Naturally, I agreed we should do something and we planned to spend the day at Old Orchard mall.
The day of, I got up pretty early for a day off and got dressed, having informed the Dowager (aka the Mother) that I would be going out with FREd. I had a slight sense of guilt knowing that this was the first time in a while (if ever?) that I had spent a birthday with a friend (let alone somebody like FREd) instead of my parent(s). However, guilt sky-rocketed once she saw what I was wearing: a tight fitted T-shirt and some pretty tight (although not really obscene) white jean shorts I had bought the day before at Macy's after having lunch with Papí's husband (he said they looked good). She was so taken aback that while I called FREd from downstairs, she had locked herself in her room. I was like, "this is *not* the right way to start off a day that is supposed to be really important to me," so instead of being my usual non-confrontational self, I knocked on her door and went in. She had a tissue on her lap and had apparently been crying. I told her that I felt good about how I looked and not objectified or degraded in any way, but that didn't register with her. I didn't know what else to say, and she eventually just said that it wasn't an area we would ever agree on and that I should just go out and have fun. I'm not sure how much she truly meant the "have fun" part, but I wasn't going to let her get me down, so I closed the door behind me and waited for FREd.
Anyway, FREd picked me up and we arrived at Old Orchard on a beautiful day. It wasn't too crowded either. We looked around a bit, went to the new Yankee candle store, and I saw a scent I liked (after commenting on how I would have preferred one that was designed to smell like his pits, which we both found amusing and arousing, as intended). Part of his gift for me was actually a Yankee candle, so he insisted that he buy the one I had found and return the other. He has a thing about people being willing to return gifts they don't like and getting something they really do, which I find kind of cute in a quirky way, so I was happy to indulge him. After looking around a bit more, we settled into a nice booth by a window at the Cheesecake Factory and had a very good meal with equally good conversation. We talked about how the Dowager reacted for quite a while, which helped a bit. Later, he said he had to use the washroom (which maybe he did), but when he came back he had actually gone to the car and brought up my gift (he was a little out of breath, it was quite endearing). I also had gotten him a card thanking him for the relationship we had forged, and most importantly, with a line in it isolated at the bottom of the message that said, "I love you." I also intended to pay for the meal even though it was my birthday. This was inspired by what happened on his birthday back in 2009 where he surprised me with a gift on his own birthday, so I thought that turnabout was fair play. Anyway, we exchanged "gifts", as it were, and he had gotten me two cards, one pornographic, which was of course appreciated, but also a more "serious" one, which he signed with "Love", which was very important to me. I then started opening my gifts, each of which he had chosen with a particular sense in mind, and with both us being very sensual people, I thought that was highly appropriate. They were as follows: sight - season one of Hung, smell - the Yankee candle, taste - a bag of M&Ms, hearing - Now That's What I Call Music! volume 33, and most importantly, touch - cash to buy a Fleshlight (they were all out of stock in stores as that week was the week of Pride or whatever). The best thing about it was that since the Fleshlights were unavailable, it sort of made a follow-up visit the next weekend a certainty so we could go pick them up together (he wanted one, too). He had to go shortly after that, though, and unfortunately the only real physical contact we had was a hug in the car in an empty parking lot on Church street (it was funny how I could tell he was looking for some place to pull over as he was driving me home). Hugs in the car (even with seatbelts off) are never as good since it's so damn awkward and you're only in contact from the waist up, not even, but it was still nice to have that much. I want to say that he kissed me on my neck as he hugged me, but I know I didn't reciprocate since I didn't think we were doing that anymore. Again, I still appreciated and enjoyed it. I got home, and I initially got the cold shoulder from the Dowager, but she eventually brought out my gifts and we had some coffee and cake in the kitchen, so at least things ended on a reasonably OK note with her as well. The maternal drama notwithstanding, though, it was probably the best birthday I had ever had, and I still need to write FREd's thank you card for that and make sure I express that to him.
Now, writing that bloated paragraph (I need to work on proper paragraphing and thought-grouping) took longer than expected by far, and I need to get to the incident of last night/this morning, so I'm gonna have to skip over some other things that deserve attention, like the day we got the Fleshlight and some trips to gay bars with Papí and H, but those are actually all related and correspond to probably the only truly major advance I've made these last three months, namely, my "return" to the gay bar "scene" (although that might be jumping the gun a bit).
So, last night I got a call from FREd around 7:45 PM (unexpected because he doesn't like to call the house; reason: The Dowager, further emphasizing the need for my own cell phone [it's actually getting pathetic at this point]). He wanted to know if I wanted to go to Sidetracks. I kind of hemmed and hawed since this was kind of last minute (which he acknowledged, although he had sent a text to my e-mail earlier, I just hadn't signed on at all yet that day). However, he was very animated on the phone and I could tell that he was bordering on hyper/horny, so that's what probably really pushed me to ultimately say yes. I still had reservations, though, since my last trip to the bar with Papí had issues relating to physical contact, and that was supposed to be taboo with FREd. I said I would get back to him and then told the Dowager that I was going out, retroactively asking if that was OK with her, especially since I had flaked out on going bed shopping with her earlier that Saturday. She more or less said it was fine with her, but I could still sense of a bit of a guilt trip, but maybe that was just me. Anyway, I finally decided that given how infrequently a cute guy asks me out to have fun on a Saturday night, I really should go and see what the night brings.
I hadn't' even had dinner yet and still wanted to get in a set of legs (probably my most intense set out of all of them), so it was basically a rush from when I hung up the phone to when I arrived at the bar. Everything took longer than expected, so what should have been meeting up at 11 became 11:30. I got there by that time, but I *really* had to piss and shit when I arrived (probably TMI, I know, and put more frankly/vulgarly than people would normally expect from me, but I have issues in that arena and have to get over them, and I think being straightforward is best). The most annoying thing was that it's not like I didn't go before I left. Anyway, FREd was nowhere to be seen, so I was basically doing the pee-pee dance in front of the bar for ten to fifteen minutes until he showed up. I had texted him to say between 11:30 and 11:45, but he's almost always on time/early, so I was kind of surprised. What I should have done is at least just pissed in the alley (as I saw somebody do later that night) or gone into the bar and just come back out again, but as usual, I tried to take the "high" road. Unfortunately, that meant when FREd did show up, I was kind of uptight and whatnot from holding everything in that I kind of was snippy when he asked if I had been waiting long. I of course immediately caught my error and profusely apologized, both while waiting in line and after I had evacuated, but still felt bad for the first 10-15 minutes of our stay there despite his saying that he wasn't offended. I really wanted the night to be perfect, I guess, and it just felt like we were starting off on the wrong foot.
As sort of disgusting and seemingly irrelevant as it may appear, I do have to make an aside here about the actual bathroom experience at the bar. The bathroom I chose was the closest one available, and was very dimly lit, which on the surface, is a good thing. However, there was only one stall, as it were, and it barely qualified as one in my mind as it didn't even have a door on it, just a wall that didn't even extend over its entire length. I initially thought I could just pee, but I knew if I really wanted to feel comfortable and enjoy myself, I would have to go all the way. So, surprisingly enough to myself, I went into the stall and started putting down toilet paper on the seat. I awkwardly started doing my business, but I could tell I was exposed as I sat there, but did my damnedest not to focus on that. It didn't help when I overheard one of the many other occupants at the urinals say something to the effect of "I guess when you gotta go, you gotta go," presumably in response to somebody else's comment that there was actually a guy taking a shit in the doorless stall at a gay bar. I tried to hurry, but the aforementioned darkness made it hard to tell when I was sufficiently "clean" (disgusting, I know). In the end though, I was proud of myself for having done something so private in a public place, in particular this activity, which, like I said, I have many issues with. Sorry, just had to get that out there for my own sake/sanity.
Anyway, the evening definitely got better from there. I had my usual array of drinks (chocolate martinis, margaritas, slushies). I had four in total in contrast to my usual five, and although definitely buzzed, I wasn't as much so as in the past. FREd was a little buzzed, too. We critiqued the crowd in our usual semi-bitchy/semi-elitist way. As anticipated, though, our buzzes made us mutually frisky, and although I took the lead (surprisingly, it must really be the alcohol), I was surprised that FREd eventually went for my ass and feeling in my between my legs (from the back, i.e., more like asshole versus cock from the front). This was very different from the times we had gone before (i.e., the events I said I'm skipping over above). I was, of course, happy about that, but also confused. Later, at his behest, we moved to an area of the bar that was actually probably supposed to be closed, but it was quiet and deserted to allow for more serious discourse. He went into his semi-analytic mode where he talked about how fucked up his situation is with his partner and wanting to make sure that he knows that he still cares about me despite the lack of true physicality (as it has been for the last six to eight months, I've kind of lost track). But then he mentioned how he feels freaked out (in a good way) when he touches me and how he "needs" to have that (yes, he used the word need). At that point, he went on to say that he wanted to leave and go somewhere and just hold me for a while, and I was very much thrown for a loop, also in a good way.
So, we left and went to a side street to "hold each other," which is kind of hard to do in a public place standing up, but we did our best. However, I use quotes to indicate that what started out as our usual "platonic" embrace from the elevators at work rapidly became more liberal as I figured I would run with whatever I could until I met with resistance. There were some people around, so we had to start and stop, and eventually we moved to an actual alley where we continued. I started to lick and suck on his neck, but unfortunately, he bruises easily, so I had to cut that out at his request. I had actually already given him a little bit of a hickey, but it wasn't too bad and hopefully his partner didn't notice (I'll find out tomorrow I suppose). Anyway, we eventually did kiss, and I want to say it was actually either initiated by him or at the very least mutually motivated. I had missed kissing him so much, so this was truly exciting for me, but at the same time, there were still limitations. He kept stopping to say, "Slow" or "Slowly". Again, just like with Papí, there is concern about bruising the lips, so I can't suck on them for very long, and the entire exchange was kind of like the very first time we kissed where he was so not used to doing it with any gusto or even any tongue, that it was in truth a bit awkward. Again, the location didn't help either. Don't get me wrong, I was incredibly pleased that it was happening; I just wish there had been fewer strings attached. I was able to get in some good ass grabbing and manipulation, and he even let me massage his balls, but not for long. =(
Eventually it was necessary for FREd to pee, and given that we were still in the alley, I was encouraging him to go right there (preferably with me watching), but he didn't feel comfortable, and of all people I can't blame him for that. Plus we needed to eat "breakfast" (and I still needed my third meal for the day), so went to our usual diner, Nookie's. There we had some heavy, deep conversation about what had just happened, what it meant, how fucked up his situation was, etc. He slipped into some of the rationalization arguments he (or rather, we) used back in the day to justify what we were doing. I didn't think of it at the time, but I do have some issues with that (will defer that analysis for below). I did tell him, in an uncharacteristically assertive fashion, that we were not done for the evening, and he did agree without any further pushing. When we finished, we walked toward his bike and into another alley where we continued what we were doing before. This time I got in some more ass grabs, more under the shirt action on his upper body, including his pits (unfortunately he was scentless, but then again, so was I out of consideration for the other bar-goers). I also went for his dick and balls again (and inner thighs, man do I miss those, they're so soft compared to mine), and I got in a bit more this time, but again nothing like I would have liked, but the environment and timing just wasn't right (at one point a guy walked through the alley toward a dumpster and took a piss, so it wasn't exactly ideal, especially since he wasn't attractive). It was already 3:30 AM by this point anyway, and he had to get home to avoid any suspicion, so we kissed a couple more times, said we loved each other, and then he rode off on his bike in the very opposite direction of me, which I found both literally and symbolically sad.
I haven't heard from him at all today. I don't know what that means, if anything. I am curious to see what his thoughts are on the subject on Monday after some time has passed, but it won't be easy to discuss via work channels. Was he expecting this change in the level of intimacy? Does he want it to continue? For how long? Will he instead need space (because he feels guilty)? Was this just a "weak moment" on his part (even worse, did I lead him on?)?
I don't want to dwell on this incident too much, but at the same time, I can't ignore it either. That becomes more apparent as I've spent almost all of today either writing this entry or talking to myself out loud about it. In fact, even when I got home around 4:30 AM, I must have sat in my car for 15 to 20 minutes talking to myself, going over the evening. I would hate for this to be an isolated event, a mere punctuation point (exclamation mark? question mark?), but at the same time, I absolutely know I can't have any expectations for regular or even isolated future events. That will only lead to disappointment. Besides, as I think I've made clear, I don't' know what this means. I don't even know if he knows what this means. In fact, I would be surprised if he's even thought about it 10% as much as I have, or even will. I suspect I will try to find out, but I must also not come off as obsessive. In the end, it may not even mean anything in the larger scheme of things. I must remain objective as much as possible.
The ultimate summary is that the primary focus for the past three months has been and remains FREd, mostly demonstrated by my efforts to maintain a friendly, yet non-sexual, relationship with him. I have been as vigilant as possible to avoid physical contact so that he can direct his efforts toward enhancing his existing partnership, but last night's events are a source of great confusion (if this four thousand+ word fixation doesn't already attest to that). I can't help wondering if my next blog entry (two to three months from now?) will indicate that this was the beginning of a renaissance period of intimacy and closeness, only to have it ended suddenly again like last time. Could this be some kind of codependent pattern that we're establishing? He gets intimately/sexually frustrated, comes to me for a couple of weeks/months, feels guilty or sees some progress, then terminates that aspect of our relationship, only to be burned again and come back to me, etc.? One sample point hardly points to a pattern, as I should know as an actuary, but I have to consider all possible pathways. My biggest gripe from a conceptual point of view is related to the use of certain arguments/rationalizations only when they serve his (our?) purpose, only to be thrown out the window when they don't anymore. As I said earlier, I can hear some of the same words, phrases, and concepts used to justify what we did late in 2009/early 2010, and I'm just wondering how long they'll hold up before they fall on deaf ears when I utter them to try to save the physicality. <shrugs>
This incident also prompts several other *serious* questions to come to mind that I really don't have time to address if I want to accomplish some other items this evening: when will physical intimacy of this level ever no longer be a "special" thing or a "big deal" to me (or even FREd)? Is that even desirable? Would becoming that way be too much of a taking-for-granted kind of position?
Also, most urgent and important to me: why did I not get an erection when we were being intimate, AGAIN?! I kind of got a little hard at the very, very end, but it was very slight and went away rapidly. Am I really not actually sexually attracted to him? Any men? Do I only find him cute/adorable and not truly sexy? Is that enough for me? For him? For any other partners I may have? Is it a psychological issue with me? A physical one? Did I spend too much time physically/sexually isolated from other humans that I am incapable of sexualizing traditionally sexual situations? Have my fantasies and fetishes been so internalized and reinforced that I cannot have an orgasm with a real person? My biggest fear is that we somehow do become serious in a sexual way and I end up being a letdown to FREd. That would be such a terrible thing to happen to him: for such a sexual person to be burned twice by somebody in that arena, especially if I advertised myself in such a way that I could not fulfill. I love him far too much to let that happen, so I may have to be cautious and practice my own brand of restraint.
Alas, the only real solution to most of the above is additional exposure, either with FREd, or with others, and I'm afraid that's at best very much up in the air right now, or more likely, simply not in the cards at all. As usual, I remain pessimistic in hopes that I am pleasantly surprised. I have a feeling there is a lot I did not address here (and probably many typos, missing words, etc.), but the next week and a half or so will be somewhat taxing at work, so I need to move on.
For now, I will try my best not to overemphasize this latest turn of events, but also not trivialize it either. In other words, I need to look at it as a pleasant surprise and move forward in as realistic a way as possible.
