A conversation that would not occur so here it is

This is what I think about this faux relationship I have with B. I think in the priority list, I ranked near at the bottom for him. He started to behave as if he was treating me like a booty call. He said nice things to calm me down, he used the words "I love you" a lot, in both writing and when speaking to him, because he thinks this is a way to secure his position in my life.

When I asked him to discuss things, he said that we do need to talk. I initially thought that he meant that he wanted to talk about how to spend more time together, and to try to get to know one another like two real people in a real relationship, but I knew deep inside he just wanted to "talk" so that he could calm me down if he sensed that I was feeling anxious or wanted some sort of commitment or progress.

He would never change. He had lived all his life sleeping around, having multiple relationships at the same time, even in the alleged relationship we had, he was out there dating other women. I imagined that he had a few of these faux relationship scattered around the country. Some women wanted relationships with him, some did not, and I'm one of the "some".

Whenever I was feeling confident and secure in the relationship, he would then withdraw. There was no advancement, After two and half years of seeing each other on occasion, our relationship remained like a chapter ripped out of a novel, just the same chapter, never any progression to the story line, never climax, never an arc, never a real thing.

I found the entire situation mildly frustrating, though I have been in this situation for so long that I knew that if I got nervous nothing would come out of it. I couldn't possibly feel that he loved me if he can't make himself available to see me. To introduce him to any of his friends, to make a space in his life that allowed me in. None of that had ever happened, and would never happen. Not even a weekender trip, not even to visit him out of town while he's working would have worked. He had no intention to bring me to the broad day light. It would never even occur to me that he was like this before me, but I suspected he was, and he had always been someone who needed multiple relationships to keep his ego boosted and to keep him from not having access to pussy.

When he first said to me that we should have a talk, my reaction was really the simple. I wanted to tell him that we didn't have to advance our relationship if that's not what he wanted. It was quite alright to keep it status quo. I would eventually leave, because for me the stimulation must come from change, but I would be happy to give this a go, a try, a little longer time. I would need not to love him but I would have fun still when we did manage to get together. I would be happy to move forward the relationship if he wanted to give it an earnest try, but I think given his track record, he had no real incentive to start a real relationship where he would be sharing his life with one person and one person only. I had , on the contrary, a 12.5 years of pure monogamy. While I was okay being in a "dating" mode, I was better at being in a monogamous relationship.  I would like to advance this relationship, as simple as going out on a weekend on a real date, or not have him to flake on me all the time. Have some level of reliance of what he said would become a reality.

But I can't say these things to him. He had no interest in my words. He would only be interested in prolonging our arrangement, or preserving my interest level in this. In that regard, I felt sad and disappointed. I felt utterly sad that I could not make him to love me really. But that was not a surprise, or should not be. But I was not planning to change any of my behavior,, I still felt a strong pull from him, but each time he did things to disappoint me, each time he said no to seeing me, each time he made me feel like that I was at the bottom of his priority list, that pull became weakened.

We all each get with what we put in.

And that was going to be the conversation I would have with him anyway.

Emotional intimacy

For years I watched sad movies so that I could feel. Twelve years of putting my emotions on ice, now they are thawed out and I couldn't figure out how to find a place to park them, these misfits, these unimaginative, raw things called feelings.

This was a story that took place a while back. When the feelings first got thawed out and how I could have and should have done something different about my approach, but instead I ran the other way. Until we discussed it and changed our approach.

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He was telling me that my shirt was showing too much cleavage over dinner. He said that to cover it up. He cut me off when I rambled on things. He didn't want to hear it. Then he kicked me under the table for not wanting to tell him what I thought.

"You are usually very reserved". He'd say.

I was never really that open with him at first. I tried to stay on the surface. He was never really the type for me to open up my emotions with.

He trod carefully. He said the other night when I panicked and screamed, "Don't leave. Don't leave this car." he had never seen so much emotions or pain in my face. "It rarely happened. I only saw it once before. When I told my girlfriend of two years that I was leaving to move here, I saw the pain on her face was real. That night I saw so much on your face. It affected me. I told myself that I have to be more careful with what I say or do. I couldn't bear your pain. I couldn't bear seeing you in pain. It affected me." He said as he flicked some ashes from his cigarette. I smiled. I had regained my composure the next day. I was able to project an air of coolness by then.

But I knew exactly what he meant. I rarely showed emotions. I rarely let people know when I was hurting. I may shed some tears while driving in a car, alone, but I couldn't possibly let people know how I truly felt. I sought revenge to compensate for the hurt I felt. I detachedmyself by going to another person. I distracted myself.  I couldn't articulate how much I was hurt and how angry I was with the person who hurt me, so I shut down. But that night he saw the raw emotions I felt once. And that troubled him.

"Since then I wanted to be careful with what I say to you. I was worried about how I would make you feel. I saw so much emotion that night - I couldn't bear to hurt you again." He told me that evening all the things I didn't want to hear. I rather for him to have forgotten it. Instead he became so polite and so careful. He thanked me for everything I did. He went to places we went together. He became quiet otherwise.

It was not that long ago when we got into such a huge fight that when a small little thing came up, I threatened to break up. I yelled. I said terrible things in return, but I was sad that he did not fight back. He took it all in. And he let me vent, he got angry but he did not fight back. It was the third fight we'd had - I told him that I never fought with anyone. He was the only person I had shared that level of intensity with, not just FELT, but EXPRESSED.

That evening we talked. He didn't say much really. I told him that I knew that I overreacted and he started to feel so emotional. I told him that instead of being so absolute I should have been more rational. I apologized. he brought me close and  hugged me. He and I disagreed on the frequency we talked. I agreed with him on concept but I didn't want him to tell me that. It was more of the fact that he said it first that upset me. I was a brat. I didn't like to be challenged. So I told him that I never wanted to talk or see him again. He was hurt and I was hurt as well. In the end, we did what we could. We stepped aside and continued and pretended everything was okay. We became friends but we were not as intimate as we were once. That night I saw his tears as he drew me closer. Pretty soon our lips were locked and we kissed but I decided it was best to leave as is and not push for it. I didn't want to tip the balance.

Just like that, I apologized for my irrational bratty move. He stopped being so depressed because he thought that I didn't want to be with him any more.

We dated for some time. I loved how he looked. He was beautiful and charismatic. He had those eyes that changed colors from blue to green. On days when he combed his hair forward and dark framed glasses he looked Irish and on days when he wore those silver framed glasses and combed his hair backward, he looked German. When he smiled the world lit up and when we were together people praised us because we looked good together. People liked good looking attractive couples. We fit well together publicly. We did many activities and we laughed together.

Eventually it ran its course. But throughout that relationship I never yelled again. I never reacted poorly to his suggestions again. I stayed calm and I let my guard down. We talked about feelings and we tried to slow down at times to let each other to be heard. We even started to sleep together again. I had an overnight bag in his place. He had one at mine. When it ended we remained friends. Just like he saw the panic on my face, I saw his sad face when he cried. We were two emotional being together. When that relationship ended, I never could let my guards down again. I cried on my own when men hurt me, and I wished that he could be there to hug me when I was sad. Then, life caught on.

I missed that level of emotional intimacy to this date.

Friends are good to have

Had my usual pre-Christmas gathering with E. E and I have been friends for a year and half. We get along well. In a sort of very Scandinavian way. He's a chiller. Someone who is very successful in his professional life but incredibly grounded. And a hard core burning man goer. I always hear good stories from him, and I liked the stories.

We used to see each other lunch once a week, but as work has gotten busy and he's less accessible. But he's probably one of my most prolific friends out there.We have so much mutual understanding it's hard to imagine why in another life we would not have become partners. On the other hand, I think he understands that I have a family, and I understand he has his life and we sort of live our lives like Scandinavians. We are both reserved and emotionally closed off. But we tend to have a good time whenever we go out.

E likes to go dancing late in the evenings on his own. He's quite secure that way. He is one of the smartest guys I know and he's suave. I liked that about him. His middle name is the same as A's middle name and is the same B's first name which makes me wonder if universe tends to send a specific type to me but then again if I knew the real answer would I be happy with it?

We had a good time to catch up. We chatted about our upcoming trips. He's not going out of town but I was. We usually try to do something before New Year but we would have to see. It's always fun to meet up with E because he's one of the best person to chill with. I didn't have to be someone else. We talked about music, politics and books he's been reading. A would probably never be like E. A may be one day be like B. I couldn't imagine that though somehow. I did tell E about this annoying person who's been calling me. I couldn't deal with emotional intimacy on a day to day basis. I found that was perhaps the most painful thing to deal with, to talk about feelings. E knew that. We always just talk about surface like things. But they are fine. They are majority part of our life anyway. I sure hope E and I will continue to be friends. He's the most grounding force in my life.

I like friends. 

Finding our way

D was sending me text message saying that he was late. Whatever. He's always late. I had trouble picturing me with him day in and day out, doing stuff. It made me slightly uncomfortable. When we we were done he wanted to grab coffee. I kept my emotional distance because I couldn't get myself all worked up with him - seeing that he had been so incredibly needy lately, we both needed a break from this friendship we formed.

I took him to my favorite joint. He ordered food and bought me a drink. He saw that they were serving butternut squash soup. I told him yes it was great. He then told me that he went to Bristol Farm and bought butternut squash soup, poki and cheese and crackers on Friday for lunch. He said that it reminded him of me. I used to bring food to him when he was sick, I told him where I fetched the food, and he wanted to return there.

We talked about politics and technology. We talked about his pending move, things happened at work. We talked about things that mattered or not mattered. We talked about life. I started to establish eye contact again. I was hurt. He was hurt. I didn't know how we got there. It was a strange dynamic, because neither one of us wanted anything from each other. It was not even a physical intimacy or any sort of emotional attachment. It was more of a shock, an aftershock. We were so close for a short but intense period of time, and neither one of us wanted that so we stopped being so close and we missed one another. It was painful. I rarely felt pained with people. It was easy to keep that emotional distance. To keep them at bay but occasionally a strange bond developed and I couldn't focus on things. I couldn't focus on a life without D's existence. He loved doing things with me. We were great activity partners. I enjoyed that. I also liked the fact that his life was starting and mine was closing in on me. It brought me hope and joy.

I had been looking for steady companionship. I was not looking for one when D showed up. I was perfectly fine doing my own thing, minding my own business. But then we became close friends. More like girlfriends who shared thoughts than boyfriend girlfriend. It was never about that romance, it was about something fundamentally different, like he was part of me, and I needed his existence to feel whole, Yet it was NEVER sexual.

I didn't tell him about that guy who was chasing me again. That guy whom I've not spoken with for nearly a year, was getting obsessed with me again and started to call. I didn't tell him that another friend was beginning to want to spend more time with me than I could offer, he was just fresh of a relationship and he wanted to be with me more, but I can't stand that. I did not tell him that I was in love with B. He shared B's racial heritage and was half of B's age.  I needed distance, distance from men or women. I could only take them in small dosages. He did not need to hear that. 

He wanted to hear what we had. 

Wanted to go and have lunch at OUR restaurant. I didn't know we had one, but he wanted something that was just ours, and ours alone. So we found a restaurant one evening and we've been going back there ever since.

He was to leave town. I asked him about something more personal. But he said that he needed time. He said that it would be a few weeks to figure it out. I said, try two years.  

From 2000 to 2011,  I was in a very weird, different place, and then something happened, I did not get to where I was without the 11 years of completely different life path, but now that I was here, I couldn't figure me out any more. The problem with remembering the past, was that I had no future that would resemble any sense of the past. Once you have children, you could never be really who you once were. For me at least I finally picked up where I left off in 2000 and that person was still in me, I just didn't know how much of her was still left.

And really it was never going to be that version of me anyway, it was entirely a different person coming out of the shell. I couldn't tell D at all about me. I didn't want to tell him so much so soon. He was a curious case. I sort of feel heart break when we decided to redo the path we were on, though I didn't know why I was feeling so sad.

D wanted to go to this museum event with me. I suggested and he wanted to go before I had suggested. It would be after he returned from home. I said that was fine. 

I couldn't really tell what was what. I sort of drift from one mood to another.

I couldn't figure any of this out because I think he would be someone important. Someone who was different from the rest of the guy friends I had. I had begun to realize perhaps the choice all along was there. He came into my life to assure me that life was meant to be full of different intrigues. I had stopped wanting to sleep around in August. There were quite a few of them, yet I just was not interested in them. D was a different case. He wanted something greater and non physical, but I did't know what that was. I was constantly irritated by him. I wanted lesser of him. I could't handle intimate non physical relationship. I liked space and D wanted just be there, no matter what I did. I couldn't handle that. I wanted my space, and he wanted his space, but then he wanted more of me. 

I had no experience with this. I could turn my back on D and walk out but I couldn't face it. 

I was not exactly the most confident type. I suppose I would have to wait.

D said that we've known each other for a long while now. I told him, try 10 years, try something more than a few months. 

D wanted to be my best friend, until I die. He once told me that he wanted to be there, visiting me in a nursing home, when I was frail. I could only picture my old age with the person I love. Thus my future often had B in it. But in D's world, I was there in his old age, and him in mine too.

It puzzled me. It made me realized perhaps I couldn't know what was that men wanted of me. Perhaps we always chase what we couldn't have.

D and I broke each other's hearts in the process.

We were more than friends. But not sexual friends. We were not sure what that was, now like two blind persons, we must find our way back to each other's lives using every tool we could find along the way. We must stop hurting each other.

We must learn to love one another again.

The Clothesline

From that same window where I had observed sun rising from the sky, I saw two clotheslines hanging from one side of the house to the side of another house. A retractable wheel that allowed one to pull the clothes in and out, after they had been sun dried and kissed. There were four black shirts hanging on one of the two lines, the further out one, and three gray shirts and a pair of white underwear hanging on the line closer to me.

I stood by the window, where I often admired the rising sun over the bay, and I watched the clothes being blown gently by the southern trade wind. This was a beautiful apartment, one that I could get used to. One I had gotten used to, on occasion. The clotheslines reminded me of another house, another house I owned, a similar clothesline hung from the deck. It was installed by the prior owner. If you traced the line, you’d see it ending at the other side of the street on a pole. The backyard ended before the line ended. The clotheslines used the same mechanical component. I was always fascinated by it. I liked how it went on and on. On that deck I could see the bay also, the east bay. At that precise moment, I had a daring thought. I wanted to invite B to see my other house.

B stood next to me, and said, “Isn’t that cool? I wanted to do a photo documentary of the clothes that have been hung on those lines. It’s illegal to have clotheslines in San Francisco, can you believe it?”

"Such a shame." I answered. I liked clotheslines. I liked clothes hanging on the clotheslines. They smelled wonderful, like the sun, like the spring, like the air. They took on the surrounding environment. Whatever and however the world smelled next to them, they smelled like them. It became them. My old house in the hills had a clothesline, though they were not used. It was surrounded by eucalyptus trees. I wished that I had strung some clothes. At my house now, I had built two clotheslines in the backyard. But I rarely did my own laundry, my maid might have done something with the lines, though I was never quite sure. As she came in during the day, before my return.

In my French country home, there were two clotheslines as well. They were strung from the stone walls to the large pine trees all the way to the back of a deep yard. No doubt my previous owner, a middle age Bostonian blue blood woman, used wooden clothespins to clip on her colorful silk dresses she worn in the summer, next to the lilac bushes.

"Often they would have different colored clothes on the lines. There was a pattern." B continued. That day, it was rather monochromatic. B seemed disappointed. I pictured some days there would be a rainbow colored soft silk shirts all lined up. They’d be blown by the gentle wind, and instead of clothes, they would look like the colorful blue and red silk drapes hung just below the translucent plastic ceiling at a typical Southern Indian open market.

Earlier that afternoon, B and I laid quietly next to each other, we had drifted into sleep, after we’d done exploring each other. He asked me about my childhood after I woke up. So I shared some stories.

Once B wrote to me that he wanted to get to know me more, about my childhood, my life back in the motherland, and my background. I found myself telling B about moving to a high school where they had a dormitory and how I ended up in one when I was only 12. I had been out of the house since I was a young girl. B listened and occasionally asked questions. I had gone back to my journals from 1998. I learned that I used to tell him all those stories, or at least somethings about me, as he fed me green tea ice cream after we devoured sushi. In bed he used to say how much he liked me, how I was both fragile and strong. But B had forgotten about our past, our dates and our embraces. We were once close, and then we drifted apart, by the time we came back to each other, we had to start all over again. I knew nothing of him. He knew nothing of me. We were two strangers who were drawn to each other’s scents.

"What are you?" I asked.

"I’m part German. Part English or Irish." He answered as I examined two old photos of his ancestors on the wall. They moved to Nebraska. He said.

Last year while I was sailing in Europe, he visited his relatives in Nebraska with his son. I knew so little about him, yet I remembered everything he told me.

Under the sunlight I saw wrinkles on B’s face. I saw not the young man I first met but this mature man who held my affection.

I asked him what time our Christmas dinner was, he said, “on the early side”.

I laughed. “Yes so that we could take advantage of the early bird special for senior citizens. Like the Sizzler.”

He replied, “Yes, in two years. Then I could.”

In two years B would enter the middle age. I realized that I liked this version of him much more. We needed to both grow apart, to start different lives, before we could meet and be together again.

For his middle age birthday, I had promised B that I would take him to see my homeland, somewhere far and away, somewhere ancient, somewhere clotheslines were strung in every street corner, on which cotton sheets and baby onesies, young woman’s bras and grandma’s handkerchieves were hung.

What's for lunch

Scheduled a lunch. Thought it was a good lunch plan. But he was not in his office, he's working at home. To get some 2014 planning done. He said that he wanted to work on 2014 software. I wanted to see what it looked like but he won't show it to me, because it's not done yet.

I love him. Pure and simple. No other men compared. He was the one and only for me. This is my opportunity to happiness. I can't imagine being with anyone else. That's pretty final. I love him more than I love anyone else. It's just that after two plus years of seeing this man, and realize that all of my passion is tied to him and him only, it's pretty powerful. And liberating. He's the one I choose to be with.

It was the middle of the afternoon when I arrived. I had not read his note about him being sick later, and that I didn't have enough time. I was busy working. But it did not phase him so I went up. I just wanted to kiss him and strip down and lie next to him. We did just that after we had sex. I liked the way the room smelled. It felt warm and toasty. He was in a shirt and jeans. I could see his face. He's nearly 50. Two more years he'll be 50. I love him no matter how old he is. I still remembered him as this young, good looking man who adored me.

When I was on his couch I noticed that there were photos hanging on the wall. He told me that they were his ancestors. He told me that he was half German (I knew that), and half English or Irish (I guessed that much). I liked that combination. I always did. I never asked him much about his background or his family. I suppose if we were to have a future together we would know that about each other - one day.

He was telling me that he was a little under the weather. I wanted to know when we'd get together for this Christmas dinner. I wanted to sleep over but I asked because I was not sure. I wanted to be with him. Pure and simple. I didn't ask him what our lives would be. But I knew that he knew that I wanted to be with him. Leaving my life behind to be with him.

At some point you just knew. I couldn't go back to before. I could only be with him. I wanted him and I wanted to be in a world where he was not just a figment of my imagination. I wanted him to be there, for me, as a man, as my man.

When it was over he put back on his glasses. I liked how his eyes looked under the daylight. They were green. I liked how his hair looked. They were a mixture of blond highlights and gray.

I liked every part of him. It was strange to feel that way about a man I've been with, obsessed with, and in love with, after two plus years.

I wonder if those feelings persist and I wonder if I could be with him, for the rest of my life. 

Declaration

Emotional valve is on when it contains a physical component. It feeds one another and the bond is formed over time. When the emotional valve is on, I'm intense, passionate, caring, funny, giving, generous, sensitive, and I carry you in the forefront of my every thought. When it's off, I'm cool, collected, easy going, carefree, low maintenance, and I place no demand nor expectation of you. 

Usually, I'm off. 

Sometimes, while the emotional valve is on, the bond grows, eventually, a deeper meaning ascends. That's what I would call love. The two sides of me start to blend into one another, and an equilibrium is achieved. 

 

To achieve that equilibrium, it takes patience, the right person, timing, and of course, the passage of time. 

When the emotional valve is on, it makes the day shines brighter and life worth living.

And I now know what's like to blend the two. I love you. 

Leap of Faith

I finished my book. Finally. It's really just something I put together for B. More for me really, considering it's a documentary of my life with his. There were some gaps, Gaps developed when I thought that he no longer wanted me. I still am not convinced that he wants me. I fear that he does not and I feel that this won't end well.

I have managed to never feel this way for anyone for this long time.

I have decided that if one day we must take the leap of faith.

I hope that one day will be not just a matter of speech. I hope one day will be here, in my lifetime.

It is too late

Saw someone I used to date. I had moved on. Eventually. He had not. I could tell.

Spent a little time together. He wanted to offer something of his to me. I did not wan to take anything but I received it anyway. a piece of kevlar, the world strongest thread. I talked to him. I held his hand but I felt absolutely nothing but a slight sadness.

When things were over it was over. It was never meant to be prolonged. It was never meant to be remembered. He had not one but two new girlfriends. He was always very honest with me. He was never honest with them. I knew more about them than they know about him, combined.

I told him about my love for B. I need to be with B. I love him like no other. I need to be B's and B's only. He told me about the theories. I told him that I've never loved someone this long. This consistently. I need him like I need air.

Where do I go from here. I don't know.

But I do know that my ability to forget and to move on is pretty amazing. But when I love someone, it became undying love.

It is too late for him to have a chance with me. I've moved on. I should. I ought to. I have.

Where do we go from here

I set my alarm at 5:45. I don't like to be late to see him. I don't like it because our time was often so limited. I found the entire getting together and then separate thing exhausting because I love to be with him more often. More often than what he allocated to me.

He's funny. I think the more he knows me and knows where I'm at vis-sa-vis this relationship, the more comfortable he is with himself and his natural self is a very funny self.

When he sees me he kisses me he wants to be with me. I like that. I like that I'm his and I'm equally aroused with him. I can't imagine not being with him or being with others. I don't feel sexually charged with anyone else, not for a long time. I don't need to feel anxious around him any more. I just need a definitive ending. Whatever it is, I want it to be one.

He said that he wants to have a talk with me but not today. It sounded like that to my question he seems to have an opinion. He wants to have a talk with me. I said OK. I think at this point he knows where my head is at.

But where do we go from here? I don't want this to be a secret any more. I think this is a road that we are on that is not going to end well if either one of us is not on the same page.

I told him for Christmas I want to string all the stories and give it to him like a book. But I worry about the content because not all of it is flattering. I want to see him as soon as he gets back.

I want him and I need him. That's a fact. And one day I want to be free of secrets. I want to know when I go home I am looking forward to being with the person I've been madly in love with for years. I want to know that when the sun is down I'm with him and when the sun is up I'm with him.

I want to feel loved and I want to love someone.

I want that someone to be him. Perhaps that's what we have been looking for. We want to find that person that makes us feel alive. I have found the person.

But where do we go from here? How should we proceed? What changes one must make? What would he be willing to do?

If you love someone so completely so passionately, how do you go from point A to point B?

Being a mortal

When I was young and living in China, I was told stories of fairies. They descended from the heavens and came down to earth, to be a mortal, so that they could fall in love. I began to think that was not just isolated to fairies in Chinese legends. I began to think that was really how life intended to be.

You must become a mortal, to feel, to love, to cry, to know that your life as you knew it would end soon, and the life you'd start with the loved one, your loved one, would be full of treacheries, and there were so many unknowns ahead of you: 

"Would he love you till the end of the day? Would you love him? Would it be worth all the sacrifices you made? Would you regret it? Would you still love him if you knew more about him than he let on? Would you be willing to forgo your sheltered, bubbled, immortal life for the real one with him? Would he betray you? Grow tired of you? Stop feeling passionate about you? Would he leave you?"  

That was perhaps what love was really about. To take a leap of faith, to know the mirage may one day disappear after a sandstorm, but alas, you could feel, even for that brief moment.

To feel, is a powerful thing. I want to feel, again, sometime, some day.

On Getting Bored Easily

My week was long and difficult. In part I had taken on more than I should and I'm struggling to keep my interest level high. I have lots on my plate and most of the things are semi expected but not exactly.

My enthusiasm runs low. I find myself asking why I was so easily bored. I'm easily bored of people. I'm easily bored of my surroundings. I'm easily bored of a lot of things.

I can't keep up with this. Boy is cute. Boy is sexually not oriented my way. That helps me. But the mere encounters with him is tiring me out. I do not like him that much. I find his conversations boring. There are high notes. There are moments where he would say things that made me realize that I like him. There are other moments where I could not stand the sight of him. I'm bored of him. He wants my attention.

I want disengagement.

A man who I had not seen for months or heard contacted me to want to know if I was doing anything this Saturday night. I suspect it's his company's annual Christmas party and he wanted to take me out.

I had liked him lightly, and I was bored. Then for months and months I did not hear from him. I thought that he was gone for good but then he contacted me. Last year at this time we were seeing each other for some time.

I think he is ending yet another relationship and somehow he wanted to reengage me. I have no interest in him. I find the note funny.

One of my very good friends said to me that I must have some sort of power. Men tend to want to come back to me. They all do. I don't understand it but ever since I was very young men tend to want to be with me. No matter how or who ended it, they all want to see me after a certain period. They wanted me and they wanted to haec me stay in their lives. I got an email from C just the other day. He missed me and he wanted to see me. I no longer care.

I'm bored easily.

I suppose this is what happened when you love someone. No matter what other people do to you, they are just white noises. They do not exist. Your world exists purely with him. He whom you love. I have always loved B. All of the other people come and go and he stays.

I wanted to tell the boy to stop wanting to see me so much. Stop bugging me. Stop being so dependent on me.

I have gotten bored of many, C, D, E. Now this little boy.

I can't deal with them. I find them boring. I find them utterly boring, gay or straight. Sexual or non sexual.

Eventually I get bored of everyone. And I remain faithfully in love with B. No matter what happens. I know that I love him. I find that notion bizarre and undoubtedly strange. I guess that's what we are. We love who we love. That's the end of it all. And at the end of the day, there is only one person matters to us.