Pen Pals

So, I met a lady on OKCupid, who wants to be pen pals. I agreed, after noticing she's incredibly attractive, and a professional poet. We started writing.

I told her some of my recent thoughts, about relationships. She responded by telling me to journal more, that I share unfinished thoughts, or that they will seem unfinished to a generic audience. I've been told this before, by a dear local friend, who finds my "pastische of words" off-putting at times.

My life of email-writing, stream-of-consciousness, and, well, rants, I can see that maybe, maybe I could think twice, write once.

That said, I'll do a little journaling here, away from livejournal, away from most prying eyes:

I met a nice person. We went on a couple of pretty amazing dates. I thought I had a lock-down on being grounded, being self-aware, and not falling head-over-heels for someone just because we get along famously well.

Email is becoming a true obsession. It doesn't help that I'm suddenly, after two years of taking continuous-use hormonal contraceptives, having my first true menstrual bleed.

Everything feels more tender and exaggerated. I'm tired. I'm sore. My uterus aches. My dreams feel debilitating.

Lately I find myself thinking of my ex from last fall, whose wife is due next month with a first child. I've cut off communication with him, after a series of emails leading me to understand he still doesn't get my notion of self, and doesn't respect my values. *blink* Meanwhile, my sister-in-law is due end of August, in rural Pennsylvania. She'll deliver in Manhattan, where her mom lives.

I thought I honestly didn't care about partnership. I thought it was a weakness, a crutch people lean on to prevent themselves from going out into the world and -living-, fully, passionately, unto themselves.

This weekend I spent Saturday and Sunday involved in exploring wilderness for my earth medicine group, or meeting with folks to discuss a quest I'm going on in August, and an intensive workshop on ancestral guidance. *blink* This work has basically taken over what therapy used to do for me, but it feels much more participatory, and directly helps me communicate with my inner path.

The new boy I met (OK, there were actually two new boys, but one's only available on a very part-time basis) brings up some inner conflicts: I am an independent person. I am not dependent on my relationship to define me. I have avoided being in relationship, or identifying by my relationship, for decades, now!

But, golly, this is a shiny new thing. I have to palpably resist the urge to check my email 10 times a day, awaiting new input.

Instead, I need to remember my old skills, which I get better at with time (and with separation from tempting date-prospects): sublimate sexual desire into art, into academic pursuit, into work. Express, but do not regurgitate on those near me!

I remember a man living in Gainesville, across the hall from an apartment I stayed in for a month or so, while a friend was on art therapy sabbatical. He pointed out that he used to be like me, until he started chanelling his energies into music, and antiques collecting.

I was too manic at that point of my life to even recognize if he was flirting with me. I pursued a man who was basically an intellectual asshole; we competed at local performance art dives. We got into a white-people fight, and he tripped me, and I hit the ground with my face. He drove off, and crushed my glasses, inadvertantly, I believe. I nursed my wounds in the gay dive bar where we'd just performed, and wound up getting solace from a sweet bisexual boy, Tom. Tom knew enough to identify as straight or gay, depending on the circumstances. He was a good person to me. I think he had stinky breath, or I'd have been much more into him. :) Or maybe I was just...overwhelmed. That was an intense summer!

I have things to focus on: making approximately 600 more prayer ties before 8/7; finishing and submitting my application for an expressive arts therapy program, which I may or may not pursue; advertising more for my favorite new project, gender-free Scottish country dance...

He's a really sweet boy. I can tell I like him a lot. I just can't lose myself in him, or in the thought, of whatever potential might exist there. I cannot afford to lose myself in anyone. For all the sweetness, I need my own personal rock, or I am asea forever.