Peniscapism

I'm at Abar (not its real name) with My Little Vidipookikins for our regular Sunday, Monday or Tuesday night blogging session, aka "You sunk my Battleship!" dueling computers. I actually really needed this tonight; I didn't want to be at home blogging alone, but I also didn't want to attempt to be all that social either. I'm feeling very fragile and everything is pretty surreal right now. I know this landscape well...it's the fog. The fog is good territory though; it blankets everything in a dreamlike stoned kind of other world reality that is wholly secure and protective. Being as lost and small as I feel at present, the fog is a comforting disconnect that I hide in. It's stoned without the munchies.

I have a confession to make. I spent the night with Mr. Emotionally Unavailable last night. Lest you think I have descended into truly self destructive depths, let me say that he was exactly what I needed last night. Despite being emotionally unavailable in the long run, he's actually wonderful when the shit hits the fan. We were also in the thick of round 2 when I first found out from The Martyr about the suicide note he was evilly hoarding; he knew the backstory and was wonderful about it then, so naturally I gravitated in that direction for the nonthreatening balance of comfort and escapism I was seeking.

I have to also mention at this point that Mr. Mama's Tatoo of All Trades just came over and sat down and read the preceeding 2 paragraphs over my shoulder. Mr. Mama's Tatoo of All Trades and I had a lovely beginning, which seemed to totally stall out, prompting this post. He seems quite happy to see me whenever I see him at Abar, but I evidently gave him some sort of impression somehow that I wanted a relationship because he has felt the need to repeatedly tell me that he wasn't ready for one despite my assertion that we were totally on the same page there. I must have accidentally worn my "desperate for a relationship" hat (packed god knows where from select college days) when I meant to wear my "let's enjoy the moment" hat. He also, as Mr. Artsy Hotpants reminds me every time he is mentioned, picked my nose. Yeah, I know. Where do I find them, right?

So back to the comfort/booty call. (Would that be a Cootie Call?)

I'm not sure if it was more helpful or harmful in the long run, because Mr. Emotionally Unavailable gave me exactly what I needed last night...he was so caring and tender and well, emotionally available. Go figure. It made me remember exactly why I tried so hard round after round. The second I got there, before even telling him what had happened, he took one look at me and lifted me up in a huge bear hug that I clung to for dear life. He also reminded me to laugh while never belittling what I'm feeling. He was the perfect mixture of humor and compassion without ever traversing anywhere near the path of pity. This morning he ran the shower for me and took me to breakfast and we talked about how heartbreaking the last time we tried a reunion was. I asked him where we go from here and he said we continue to give eachother advice about the men and women in our lives, get together for coffee and soup once in a while, and hold eachother up as impossibly high standards for anyone else to meet....meaning no new round is beginning.

I didn't expect it to when I decided that was what I wanted to do. I went there for comfort and connection, and that is what I got.

Still, it was sad. Sad because when we do connect, we dance so beautifully together. It makes me wish we could find that on somewhat of a regular basis; that we could make it work.

He loved my Superman adult underoos as much as I do.

While I'm on the subject of sad stories, I finally spoke with Captain Resistance Friday night, after an unfair but badly needed distancing silence of several weeks. I always need distance to find perspective; when I had a car, I used to run away on spontaneous road trips when I needed to think things through. I had arrived at a place where I felt that what was supposed to be a casual thing had become far more serious than I ever intended and I felt trapped and panicked. We were never supposed to have a relationship; I stated so from the get-go. What it turned into was far more like a relationship than I was comfortable with, and I had guilt over the inequity of feelings involved. He introduced the L word into the equation, and whether or not we had different definitions and whether or not he believes in unconditional love, it was an introduction that I was wholly uncomfortable with.

I explained all of this to his very respectful ear, which did not begrudge me any of my feelings or the right to have them no matter how alien or nonsensical they seemed to him. The whole conversation was incredibly sad, because I realized that I missed talking to him and that we do relate well. Still, it became something that was not a good thing for me and at this point I don't trust that we could rediscover that ease without it inevitably veering off course again.

Funny how I have been switching roles in the same play. With Captain Resistance, I am the emotionally unavailable one. The universe seems to love irony, especially with those slow to catch on to it.

Funny how I can make these adventures into man territory of such vital importance.

Penis escapism. It's healthier than drug abuse.