Adrift, afloat, ashore.
written: 11:54 p.m. on Saturday, Feb. 21, 2009

I'm feeling strangely vulnerable, and restless, but mostly vulnerable. I'm annoyed at myself for doing literally nothing the whole day, annoyed at the weather for pouring just as I was about to head out and play tennis, and annoyed at myself for dragging up the past with some obscure agenda that even I don't quite understand.

I spent some time clearing my Gmail inbox and I was reminded of all these people that I've not thought about lately. This guy I went out with, this other guy I went out with, some guy that emailed me, this guy I dated - this guy I loved.

Memories, history, the past - who really cares? Except we're defined by our mistakes, by our histories; our experiences shape who we are, for better or for worse.

I don't know what I'm doing, what I'm writing, why I did the things that I did, why I can't do the things that I wish I could do, why I seemingly am prepared to settle for less when it comes to the opposite sex despite my declarations to the contrary. The way I constantly fall for (and I'm using this phrase very loosely) guys despite knowing they're not my type, then regretting it when it's already too late, when the heart's laid on the table and he looks at it and shakes his head, hands it back to me. I don't know what I hate more: his false pretentious display of overblown concern in rejecting it, or the fact that I offered it in the first place.

It's always the same bullshit: the head says one thing firmly, and the heart goes off and does something else. What the fuck, right? I'm so tired of all this, and even at times when I knew I shouldn't do what I impulsively wanted to do, I gave in to impulsion and did it anyway.

I feel deracinated - a word I haven't used in a while. Set adrift on no man's land, and all of a sudden I haven't the slightest idea, the mildest clue, the most vague, most minute, of a conception, of who I am.


On another note, I get really defensive and creeped out when strange guys demonstrate, to varying degrees, an attraction to me, or an interest in me. The thing is, sometimes I wonder if I'm just being paranoid and unreasonably defensive, if the strange guy isn't just, well, just looking I guess. There's no harm in looking, is there? Even when you're standing next to a woman who looks as old as you and therefore can be reasonably presumed to be your wife?

I get really creeped out when husbands look at me a few seconds longer than normal when I'm out shopping or whatever. I'm not merely afraid for my bodily integrity; I'm also disgusted that a married man can have eyes that stray even when his wife is right next to him - and for fuck's sake, it's not as if I'm anywhere near his age.

But is there really any harm in looking? I seem to think there is. Maybe I haven't been in a meaningful relationship long enough to know how it feels like to be a little bored of the person you're with even when you still him/her and in such instances looking at someone else is perfectly normal; but until I experience that, I find it pretty unacceptable. I can't imagine looking at another guy when I've made a commitment to someone.

Of course, chalk this down to a lack of a meaningful experience if you must. I think it perhaps stems from that, too. Still, my point remains: I'm grossed out all the same.

There are also times when I wonder if I'm not just being unreasonably hostile, operating on the rebuttable presumption that every guy just wants to get into my pants, and therefore coming across as a lot more unfriendly and unapproachable than I really am. Okay, to be honest, I am significantly unfriendly and to some extent, unapproachable; but I wonder if this isn't unreasonably due to my paranoia and inherent distrust in the dubious intentions of the opposite sex. Furthermore, I wonder where this inherent distrust stems from. I haven't been lied to, haven't been cheated on, haven't had anyone force himself on me, and I hardly ever club or drink; and yet, I can't help but view men with suspicion anyway. I guess I just don't want to ever find out that the only reason a guy wants to go out with me is because he wants a cheap, easy lay.

On the flip side, I get incredibly offended when a guy I'm seeing genuinely doesn't find me attractive. If I'm so worried about guys wanting me for my physical appearance, I should be looking for guys that want me despite not finding me attractive, right? Well, that sort of obvious logic doesn't apply to me (ergo, I'm not a logical person? The ex would heartily attest to this, /cheap jab). I can't stand going out with a guy that doesn't think I'm pretty; in such a situation, I can't help but wonder what the hell is the point and why I'm wasting my time with this douchebag when I can go out with someone that does find me attractive.

That probably didn't make any sense.

Also, I discovered this recently: Toss-up between a smoking hot guy whom I don't know, and a decent-looking guy whom I do know, I'd choose to go out with the latter. Even if the former is what all fantasies, sexual or romantic or something else, are made of, and the latter...not even close.

before sunrise // before sunset

- - Tuesday, Aug. 29, 2017
I'm moving. - Sunday, Jul. 11, 2010
In all honesty - Tuesday, Jul. 06, 2010
What I want for my birthday... - Sunday, Jul. 04, 2010
On Roger's behalf. - Friday, Jul. 02, 2010