Well, I haven't seen the handsome and virile Kilt Guy since I posted. I have traded looks again with another strapping dude at the 125th St. station while waiting to cross trains, one that had real potential if I knew how to do more than smile.
But I don't think I do. I mean, ol' dude caught my eye as he came off the D train, and I smiled. he headed toward the steps and looked back at me, and I smiled. He headed up the steps and looked back one more time, and me, who kept looking ... smiled. Then he was gone. His expression said, "Really? YOU?" Or maybe that was just what was going on in my own head about myself.
What I've discovered is that my male-enhanced libido helps me flirt, but the awkward socialness that I expirienced as a hetereo is following me into my homoness. I can't open my mouth and say 'Hello.' I can't initiate the conversation that will lead me to, "I'm interested in you, let's go out." When I was hetero, I was petrified of not being enough or having enough. Now "as the village's only gay" I'm terrified of what I do have.
And I'm still brainwashed down to my core. It still doesn't look right for two men walking up the avenue holding hands. Two men pushing a baby carriage. Two men sharing a tender kiss. No. For me it's the rough grunting sweaty porn sex. The stuff that doesn't look anything like love, but more like hunger. The male power.
And in this, I find my disorder. My own trauma. I come back to the abuse. The introduction to sex through perversion and crime. The shame and self-loathing.
And so I think I'm going to leave it there. I think this experiment of The Redeemable Life is a failure, like so many experiements must inevitably become in order for one to succeed.
Facebook is a nice, sanitary place where I don't have to drag through filth the people that I've come to love but chase away. This unsolvable thing about sex ... I'm done. Nothing works. Time to find my joys in other things--the things I've always done. Comic books. Audio dramas. Helping others who possess more potential for success than I ever had. Well, maybe I once had.
It's been nice and it has gotten me through the last six years of depression, eviction, terror. It showed me the hearts of good people. It's been a special place and I miss it every day.
I miss it and I miss you every day.