When I Need A Pick Me Up, by my friend Ryan King

Wednesday, November 12, 2008

Okay, So Let's Talk

I didn't want to taint the news of Fringes & Q with my emo gushations, but I just have to give a likkle lyric at this particular moment. I guess I should start by acknowleging how rare it is that a couple meet through internet blogs, and fall in love, and turn it into a life together. Being that it's rare, most of the credit has to go to Q, no doubt. He's the guy who made the first moves through comments, then made the commitment to travel 650 miles every week to see Fringes. He's the one who stayed through after meeting two kids. He's the one who ignored whatever anyone might have said about him doing all this for a black girl. And for her credit, she's the one who trusted that his intentions where true. That his love was true. So this is completely and madly special.

Having said that, I want one! Wahhhh!

In wanting to identify with Dexter, the novel protagonist-cum-TV serial-killer-for-good, I wanted an out from this bizarre condition I have found myself in. Alone, not always lonely, and untapped in my forties. I wanted to be able to say, "I'm not bizarre, I was born this way. I'm autistic!" Then Karma, who also works in mental health, postulated that my condition may me due to PTSD, which is Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Which I can also accept, but in a "I'd really rather it be just pnuemonia, but if it's lung cancer then ok let's deal with it" kind of way.

Because PTSD means that it's a result of the man who molested me. And it makes sense that what I am and what I do would have resulted from a molestation. And whereas I can't remember everything he did to me, I do know it wasn't just once, and I do know that I liked it, but that I couldn't have been older than 6 and so what he did was a crime against me (and God, really). And that I was violated. And that it wasn't my fault any more than autism would be.

But yeah, my symptoms have always been fear-based. A little panicky, really. PTSD does fit in there. Fear of getting close, getting naked, letting her and/or him turn me on. Fear of bodily fluids (I admit it, I sometimes snap my head away from porn when mouths open up and tongues go in places, and liquids start to flow and get on people's faces and other parts. Sometimes. Not all times, but most times). When it became a reality that sex was going to be required of me by my peers in high school, I went running to a strict little church in Mahwah where I wasn't even supposed to hold hands too long with a date. Perfecto. Escape from the fears! Religious pious excuse to avoid, avoid, avoid!

And yes, my fear could have come from actually being gay and not really wanting to be with a chick, but I can't be successfully gay with the hang-ups I've got! EUCCHH! No way!! And I can never dismiss the strong possibility that I only have an attraction to guys because it was a guy who introduced me to sexual stimulation before puberty; not because I was born gay.

And I want to understand!! I want to know WTF?!! Do I go and earn Ned's comforting and craved-for pride in me and take on a gay identity? Do I defeat the effects of a criminal pervert son of a bitch who diddled with me, and resist same-sex urges? Do I just go with what I've got, disregard how I got it, and go find me a muscular stud? Do I stay nice and safe inside my bubble, and trust only myself as a lover? Or do I find a girl who will understand and who will be patient, and who will let me experiment sexually with her until I get it right and also allow me my hang-ups (like I don't think I'll be able to **zz on her face or in her mouth if she wants me to. Sorry. ICK).

I don't know. And I hate not knowing. But I might never have the answer. But I can't just stay here, can I? What a waste that would be. I'm a good-looking guy with a lot of love to give. I'm about to come correct with my finances and enter into a full time (equivalent) counseling career in New York City. And I'm a good guy. I mean no one any harm. Only good things. I only want to use my powers for good. I want to make someone's life better for loving me.

I don't want to die alone.

So where's my fringes?

Where's my Q?

Just asking.

You know?


Cyber D said...

Dude, you are a good guy. You do deserve happiness. Is it marraige? That's debatable. I love my wife, I love my life... but it aint always happy.

P.S. Even the well adjusted men with everything going for them have women that want to change them.

Alan said...

I appreciate and believe that, Cyber D. When said lady enters my life, I'll be knocking on your cyberdoor for tips, hints, and coping mechs. :-)

Kathleen said...

Wow. I'm impressed with the way you open up in your blog. Too many people I actually know read mine and I would never say the things you said. They don't need to know about my sexual dysfunctions. I have a hard enough time talking about sex with my therapist, there's no way it'll happen on my blog, even my old locked on at diaryland.

If I didn't already know you were a therapist, I'd ask if you had gotten therapy re: the man who molested you, because I'm assuming you have.

I could have written part of this entry... *hugs*

Alan said...

Thanks for giving it a read, Kathleen, and for the hug. For me, not a lot of people I come into contact with face-to-face read my blog. People that I've met, but live in other states read it, and I work with them in audio production, and I might see them again in this life, but I'm not worried. They read because they care, and they haven't done anything destructive with the information.

For me, it's a matter of dealing. I hadn't blogged about it when I first started because I didn't even realize that I was a victim of molestation. All I knew was that I had a lot of secrets and shame, and it felt like I'd never be a normal functioning adult. It's a liberation to be able to talk about it. Because in this way, I know that I'm not ashamed anymore. I never had to be. It wasn't something I chose to do, it was a crime against me. I'm not the criminal and I have nothing to be ashamed of, you know what I mean?

Also, I learn by example. I read other blogs to find out what alternatives there are for me. I get inspired by men like Scott, who had battles of a different nature and managed to marry and become a great father to his sons.

So Step One for me was to "come out of the closet" and put the shame behind me. Where I never used to talk about sex at all, and it was frightning and a complete embarassment, now I can talk about anything with anybody. I surely have to as a therapist! But I mean, it was just total shame that kept me so closeted and afraid to even say the words, let alone do the do. Now I don't blame myself anymore. I'm not ashamed anymore. I didn't do anything wrong. I did what any 6-yr old would do. I enjoyed the company and attention of an adult. Unfortunately, that adult was a perverted criminal and I learned the wrong things about sex from him. (And lets throw my mother into that mix of adults who taught me the wrong things about sex with all the pornographic material that she left in the house with me on the weekends and summers while she went to work).

Now it's time for me to learn the right things.

Kathleen said...

The funny thing (peculiar funny, not ha ha funny) is that I think I'd be more comfortable having complete strangers read about my issues, because I think they're less judgemental than certain of my friends. So, I keep it light (mostly) and deal with my problem (or try to) in therapy.

Can I just tell you that I object strenuously to spelling "judgmental" with the "e" between the g and the m? Makes me crazy.

The only thing I can really blame my parents for is being repressed sexually, as I was raised very CATHOLIC and knew that if I ever got pregnant that the Former Father would KILL me. And at my age (44), is it even possible to get past that? Or am I better off alone than inflicting my issues on some poor unsuspecting man? And ending up disappointed (and disappointing) yet again and dealing with that rejection all over again and feeling less than a woman?

Alan said...

I'm the same age, and I choose to believe that it is possible to get past. In your case it seems like you'd do well with a man you trusted. Someone who was with you because of all the virtues you have outside of the bedroom. And someone who can be patient with you until you were ready. And won't judge you when you aren't ready. It seems like getting married to them first would go a long way towards helping you trust them for that physical intimacy part. Because then you could get as pregnant as you want. :-)

Kathleen said...

Oh, I most definitely don't want to get pregnant! ;-) And yes, you're right about the patience part and the waiting part. Hmmm, have you been talking to my therapist? ;-)

I know all that, but to a certain degree I have so many freaking issues, it's not even funny. I can't even express them well.

Your last paragraph expresses things perfectly for me (except for maybe the finances part - although I'm okay as long as I don't lose my automotive job). Except that you stay positive and I get negative - What is wrong with me that nobody wants me? I haven't been this bad lately, but I used to say that my song was Unlovable by The Smiths.

It's hard being single in this society at our age. There are so many judgements. I have a friend who won't date anybody who isn't divorced, because she figures there something wrong with a guy who hasn't committed. And I ask her how is that different than me? She has no explanation, just says, "That's not the same thing?" Why not? Why is it okay for a woman not to have been married before, but it's not okay for a man? Just seems wrong to me.

I hope you have a great weekend. I have to bundle up - it's bloody freezing here and the radiator won't heat up for a while. ;-)

Alan said...

Oh but I don't always stay positive. I'm asserting positivity. I do that because it pisses me off to beat up on myself. Even after I've done it. I feel like I've already been beat up on enough. If I don't defend myself, who will? If I don't stay on my own side, who'll be there for me? Who's the only one I can depend on for 24 hour, 7 days a week, 365 days a year comrauderie?


Me, that's who. :-)