I am a goddamn rollercoaster.
I don't know what I am. And I feel like I'm going to fucking burst if I don't have sex with a woman soon.
Also, I'm incredibly cynical about relationships right now. And that kinda sucks.
In these past three months I've been having some great sex dreams about women. Last time, I had a dream that I kissed a 30-some old waitress who had short blonde hair and a child, even. And it was hot. I never fantasize about getting older women, especially ones with children! They've been great, though.
It's time for a quote:
I Kissed a Girl by Jill Sobule
Genny came over and told me about Brad
So the salvaging didn't work. I have been trying to give myself time for my wounds to heal, which means that I've been avoiding some things like talking to mutual friends, going to places where we used to eat together, etc.
It's like I have to pretend that you're dead to help me get through this, which is pretty weird considering that I know you're still around campus somewhere. I just keep hoping that I don't run into you until after our month of winter vacation. It's dead and gone and it's time to move on and fill in that void in my life. It's not easy, but I finally stopped crying every day and can go feel okay for more than just a few hours now. I acredit much healing to my friends.
I think there may be a chance. I want to be prepared for the worst but I can't bring myself to think about it anymore - if I have no hope, I won't be able to even make it through a conversation without wanting to sink into myself and not come back out again.
In my mind, we are telling each other how we feel, and it isn't easy but we shovel through because we both feel like it's worth it. And then you curl up next to me and call me one of your pet names, I take you in my arms, and we tightly embrace. It would be like how it was after we fought that one time in your old room - one of us leans into the other and we don't kiss but softly rub our faces against each other, feel skin lightly touching skin while our hands move to rub each other's backs, arms, legs, whatever. It's not sexual but sensual, and it's amazing. Better than any fuck session.
It's time to write again. Something has happened, and it needs to be released, recorded.
Only, I am still in the process of digesting. I have seen myself grow a few years in these past two weeks. I think I may even decide to call myself in the beginnings of adulthood now. That sort of measurement is so silly, though.
When I can bring myself to it, I will throw away your tooth brush... but not yet. Even making the statement is something that I can barely bring myself to do. I want to delete it. I want to put it off for later. But it's been so long since I've written anything, and that is what first comes to mind.
you know, despite all the angst, frustration, alienation, and all around madness that i've experienced from being bi, i don't think i'd have it any other way. it just seems so fitting that i'd be bi, too. i've always been a weird one.
and i take pride in completely throwing off our fucked up gender dichotomy. :D i feel like i'm somehow doing my job in maintaining universal chaos or something. i mean, ideally, no one would give a fuck, and i still would prefer that to the way things are, but since i have to deal with this shit i might as well extract some pleasure out of the fact that i'm throwing so many people off. (my inner antagonist)
well... it's been awhile. the layout is unfamiliar to me, once again. i'd still call myself a vet though. anyway... just popping my head in to say hi. i lurk around here every now and then still. which vets are still here?
~returning zaney bisexual college kid :)
... life is just sad.
You are Frida Kahlo! You are an artistic,
passionate, vulnerable person, with openly
bisexual tendancies and were the first womyn to
have her own gallery show in Mexico. You slept
with ... Trotsky?
Which Western feminist icon are you?
brought to you by Quizilla
Her hair is soft, a little past her shoulders. I run my fingers through it slowly when the light spills through the window on Sunday afternoons. She drinks tea with she watches leaves dance in playful breezes and can hold my gaze with such tenderness that sometimes I think I will melt into a puddle of skin on the floor, heart throbbing.
She likes writing and exploring cities. We go on Metro adventures and lay in bed listening to the radio for hours, holding each other, starring at the ceiling. She likes the Foo Fighters and Third Eye Blind and can at least appreciate my glorification of Sarah McLachlan. We take midnight walks to the park and shop at thrift stores, and she cares about children and ponders the ethical and pragmatic dimensions of globalization.
She accepts my neurosis and can laugh as much as I can. She's into existentialism, finds beauty in poetry, and doesn't mind when I speak in fragments.
Doing things against my better judgement is what I do best.
Wow. So many new people just joined Oasis in a deluge. It's great - things looked so glum here for awhile. I can't help but feel a slight sadness, though, about the fact that, as a veteran, I feel like a stranger here now. Most of the writers that were here when I joined nearly two years ago (oh my god, where in hell's name did two years go??) have moved on, which is good for them. Some have stayed, and I still enjoy reading what they have to say, and I am looking foward to the newest wave of queerling writers. It's just that, in my phases of denial and confusion, I had made Oasis a mental and emotional haven, and a lot of what that entailed has now evolved into something new and different.
Not to say that new and different isn't good or shouldn't be celebrated, of course. I'm just being an old sappy fart.
In any case, I would like to extend my warmth and queer vibes in the way of all the new members of our community and, in light of the two year anniversary in which I discovered oasismag.com give a whole-hearted thank-you to Jeff and Adrian for making Oasis possible.
Now. Moving onto business: gaydar. All I can say is... grrrrrr. Where is it and how can I get my hands on it?? I used to believe that "gaydar" was silly and just an excuse for gay people to project stereotypes onto others, but now I'm finally starting to understand what people mean when they say they have it. Contrary to popular conceptions, however, it is not something you magically acquire once you realize you like the same sex.
... so attractive about this woman. I have no idea why I am feeling so strongly about this, but I am. I want so much to just be her friend, to not be so nervous and shy around her that I'm paralyzed and can't talk and laugh at silly things, but this attraction is making it so difficult to act normal. Blah. BLAH! I don't remember physical attraction being so hard to deal with. I'm inclined to
Fuck fuckers. I hate feeling like I have to constantly prove myself to lesbians and gay people. I hate feeling like less of a queer.
I hate the angst and isolation.