Yesterday, Papa came for a visit. He’s maturing nicely…very nicely. His figure’s still a bit petite, but wirey, and he’s definitely stronger than I remember. He moves with an even more cat-like ease than he had when I first met him.
We spent a good part of the day together. Although I still have a problem with direct light, the fact that it was daytime didn’t cause the usual anxiety. It confirms a suspicion that I had about most of that not being the what, but the who. Like I’ve said, this is a guy who could walk me on a tightrope over a shark tank.
Skull and I have decided to go platonic. We still care for each other, but we’re not really compatible in some crucial ways. Don’t worry, I didn’t break his heart. It’s just one of those things, and we decided that mutually.
Feng Shui came for a short visit the day before yesterday. I managed to maintain a kind of “professional” demeanor until he was about to leave. Then I felt my eyes betraying me before I was able to stop it. I know it’s just leftover affection, so I haven’t convinced myself to go back into pursuit mode. I don’t have the energy for cat and mouse.
I think Allball is gone. Awhile back, since he was pestering me about experiences I couldn’t pull like a rabbit out of a hat, I referred him to someone who could meet those needs. Problem is that this person is someone I consider highly unsafe, and I told him that. He went there anyway, and now he’s calling me again for more than platonic purposes. I’ve politely declined.
I know that he knows how to take care of himself physically, but there’s more to this than that. This other woman lives in a different mentality than I do…one that needs sex with ALOT of people to sustain her ego. I look for different things in sex…physical expression of a pre-existing psychological connection. My ego is sustained by other things, and even those things are negotiable. When I’ve lost my intellect to Alzheimer’s, plain old senility, or a head injury, I’ll likely be happy to make it through the day without doing poop art on the walls.
The part of me that enjoys being desired enjoys it, but doesn’t need it. I understand that beauty is both relative and fragile. It’s not something to bank on for a sense of self worth. I don’t need to shag alot of people to feel good about myself, and I feel sorry for people who do need that. Allball knows this, and yet has joined the pity party of a sex addict.
Maybe he’s calling me again because he’s realized that sex just for its own sake isn’t exactly sex just for its own sake, and doesn’t want to be a part of the ego boosting brigade anymore…or maybe he’s just in need of some variety, and I’m the representative for whatever fetish category tickles his fancy at the moment. Until I know which it is, I’m standing down. Besides, it takes three months to sero convert…
So, strange as it may seem, Papa is the only one left consistently holding his place. The question is really only whether it will last, and that well…nobody knows. It’s better to take things day by day and let the future take care of itself. One thing’s for sure though, if he ever does get tired of me, I’ll be the first to know. I don’t see myself getting tired of him anytime this century though.
Recently:
- The Countdown Begins
- More Truth Roissy Can’t Handle
- No Going Back
- Do Cyborgs Dream of Electric Meat?
- The 80′s Return
- Reasons Not to Screw Up
- The Edge of the Cliff
- Former Fatty Syndrome
- Damaged Goods vs. Classic
- First Audience and Student
