Hey look, he’s blogging again!

Well, Ross just left on his epic journey back to his home in Silly Con Valley, and I already miss him. For a week and change, I didn’t have to sleep alone, and I had someone in my life to care about who cared about me.

I am not convinced we are entirely compatible yet. I am certainly a lot more comfortable expressing emotions than he is. I wanto to tell him how much I love him and give him all my overflowing affection, but he does not seem comfortable with that kind of thing.

So we had a lot of really good intellectual conversation, but not a lot of emotional connection. That could turn out to be a problem.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the visit. And wow was he generous with the gifts. Because of him, I have a new synthesizer(that’s one fancy new toy) , new headphones (yay a ,  and $100 sitting on my Steam account,. waiting for me to finish Darksiders 2 (I’m close), whereupon I will consult some gaming friends of mine and see what’s awesome and current and stuff.

Imagine that. Playing a game that people are also playing right now. I am a-tizzy with excitement at the prospect.

But mostly, Ross and I hung out and talked. We talked here in bed, we talked at various restaurants around Richmond, we talked hanging out with La Gang (Julian, Joe, and Felicity) at dinner, and we talked in his car going to these places.

It was all very high quality intellectual conversation, on which I thrive. But what is haunting me is that I didn’t get a chance to express all the things I wanted to express to him. Instead, it all stayed very intellectual.

My side of that is that I am shy and sensitive and I could tell that Real Talk made him very nervous and uncomfortable, so I went with my worser instincts and let everything be how he wanted it instead of asserting my own need to be heard and understand on my own terms. And for me, those terms are very deeply emotional.

I wanted to tell him how I loved him, how I have always loved him, that nothing would please me more than being his life mate, and that I would dote on him if he would spoil me. I had a speech worked out and everything.

But I couldn’t spit it out. These last few days, when his departure was looming, I tried to get some of it out, with mixed results. I at least got out how much I loved him, and got his assurance that he cared for me as well.

So that offered some relief from my mounting anxiety.

I suppose that with some, that is the problem with love on vacation. People who are on vacation from their hectic day-to-day lives do not want to think about big subjects like love and relationships and the future. They just want to relax, have fun, catch up on rest, and in general just chill the fuck out.

But I am going to need significant emotional inputs and outlets in any relationship in order to keep myself from going completely crazy as my neuroses eat my brain like termites in an antique furniture store.

That’s a good thing to know about myself. I am going to need someone who can take my big messy wet emotions without getting spooked or waterlogged, and said person will also need to be able to give me the kind of love and assurance and stability that I need.

It’s ironic…. I used to think that intellectual compatibility would be the precious commodity I would have to kiss a thousand frogs to find. But now that I have had a little more experience, I am starting to think that the emotional stuff is far, far more important.

Talk is cheap. Love is rare.

Not that I am giving up on Ross, of course. I am just examining my own needs.

Predictably, I feel like I made huge, glaring, unforgivable mistakes the whole time he was visiting. For one thing, the sex thing really didn’t happen, and I should have been more prepared for that.

But when everything was theoretical, it was way too easy to pretend that I didn’t have huge problems in that area and that weird shit can crop up in my mind when I try to do the sex thing with other people, as well as the problems caused by my antidepressants.

The worst problem I have is that when someone is stimulating me, I have a strong tendency to just kind of space out and go extremely passive. This probably would not be a problem if I got more sex in my life, but it’s kind of a big deal when someone is trying to please you and you space out like you are tripping balls.

Not making a balls joke. Moving on.

That’s a big part of why, in the past, my most “successful” sexual encounters have been the ones in which I concentrated entirely on pleasing my partner. I enjoy that – taking someone to the Happy Horny Place is a lot of fun and very gratifying – but I can’t say that I exactly get off on it. It’s just easier.

It occurs to me that those people who want to be treated like a sex doll might not be merely kinky. They might have problems like mine.

And it’s not like I feel like I don’t deserve pleasure. Trust me, if I start earning well, I will be buying myself a lot of pleasure. I want all the sexual gratification money can buy, and it won’t matter if I space out because I will have hired capable professionals to do the job.

And they will be, of course, forewarned.

But I still feel like I failed Ross. That I disappointed him. That he was looking for more. That might just be my neurotic and damaged psyche singing its usual song, but it might not be.

I wanted to give him so much more.

Instead, I just took the path of least resistance. AGAIN.

When will I finally learn how to paddle upstream?

I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.