Holy shit I remembered my password and everything!

Whoa! Depression returns after several years on sabbatical. I did not miss it, not even a little. Oh Seebo and you're paralyzing perfectionalistic procrastination and almost crippling tendency to use emotion over reason... the whole while expecting rational people to be able to make sense of your ramblings. Good times. Welcome back. I have missed these defects of character most of all.

I'm an osteoarchaeologist now. So I have that going for me. Like for reals - its what I do and I do it well. Also, allora parlo italiano - ma non parlo bene.

I'm rethinking my rethinking of removing the baser sex from my life as it only serves as a constant source of pain and/or unwanted distraction. Since aprile I've acquired a Spaniard, who may be on his way out because my ability to want to be with him whilst not asking for anything from him (read: committment and/or monogomy) other than a lil bit of security and validation of my vulnerability (just let yourself like me you douche. You've been telling me for months now that you like me "too much" - so, um, yeah... go for it) might just be "too much to handle."

And now, if I may - and I may - wtf? Too much for you to handle? Oh you poor darling. There is nothing for him to handle. I'm the one that has to handle it. And will have to handle it when he decides that my loyalty and affection are super downers. Honestly. You like this Seebo girl too much, she submits to your sexual will 99.3% of the time, she doesn't care if you fuck other girls, and this is too much to handle. That's retarded. Is what that is. Re. Tard. Ded. I can't give him everything, unless he's willing to accept it. And I cannot stress enough how much I'm only asking for simple acknowledgement in return.

Believe you me I understand the difference between sex and intimacy. And what we've been doing for months now is hardcore intimacy. That's hard. Intimacy and vulnerability and all that - scary.

It boils down to this. You don't want to see me, cause you like me too much to use me for sex. However, if you'd just let yourself like me, and allow me a miniscule amount of security, you'd be free to have me and I don't care what happens when I'm not around. Cause it really has nothing to do with me. I don't want a boyfriend, I was happy with my lover. What I need is a PhD. And someone who can appreciate me.

An hour before I tried to tell him I wanted to belong to him, please and thank you, he was telling me about how our relationship was like that one movie... you know, whatsitcalled? Oh yeah... Twilight! I shit you not. Perhaps he meant in the "theatrical" sense, regarding the "theatrics" that is god only knows what. The D/s play? Or does it also include his telling me that he likes me too much to use me.

Okay. Clearly a lot of stuff to work though here. Its going to be a tear-filled, head-achy weekend. When you write it out and read it back, I sound like the retard.

Como se dice "I wish I knew how to quit you" en espanol?

There is the Russian. Who is a super sexy model. Who speaks Russian. Need I say more? Okay, I say more - he's a bit young. Sex. No intimacy. Fine with that. Couldn't care either way with this one. And that's easy and I can handle it.

I'm a trooper - I can handle anything.

Then there was Pretend Irish Boyfriend. Who was a real man, but only a "pretend" boyfriend. Irish men and their confusing of sex with intimacy and the cultural Catholicism baggage... Premature ejaculater. Gave excellent head. Was what it was.

Then there were the four guys over the last five days. I'm on a bit of a slutty kick. Fun, no hassle, its all good.

There seems to be a unifying theme of intimacy: full on hard core he can talk about it but I can't intimacy. Misdirected sex is intimacy and therefore wrong and weird. And Russia somewhere in between. Oh, the tall good-looking not so much for talking to as for fucking.

I have no idea. The Spaniard said he'd call. I believe that he believed it when he said it. I also think he might be a coward-cum-emotionally-bereft-wanker. Who is incredibly awesome, and is totally gonna break my heart, isn't he?

This made me feel better. Somewhat.

First of all, love is a joint experience between two persons — but the fact that it is a joint experience does not mean that it is a similar experience to the two people involved. There are the lover and the beloved, but these two come from different countries. Often the beloved is only a stimulus for all the stored-up love which had lain quiet within the lover for a long time hitherto. And somehow every lover knows this. He feels in his soul that his love is a solitary thing. He comes to know a new, strange loneliness and it is this knowledge which makes him suffer. So there is only one thing for the lover to do. He must house his love within himself as best he can; he must create for himself a whole new inward world — a world intense and strange, complete in himself. Let it be added here that this lover about whom we speak need not necessarily be a young man saving for a wedding ring — this lover can be man, woman, child, or indeed any human creature on this earth.

Now, the beloved can also be of any description. The most outlandish people can be the stimulus for love. A man may be a doddering great-grandfather and still love only a strange girl he saw in the streets of Cheehaw one afternoon two decades past. The preacher may love a fallen woman. The beloved may be treacherous, greasy-headed, and given to evil habits. Yes, and the lover may see this as clearly as anyone else — but that does not affect the evolution of his love one whit. A most mediocre person can be the object of a love which is wild, extravagant, and beautiful as the poison lilies of the swamp. A good man may be the stimulus for a love both violent and debased, or a jabbering madman may bring about in the soul of someone a tender and simple idyll. Therefore, the value and quality of any love is determined solely by the lover himself.

It is for this reason that most of us would rather love than be loved. Almost everyone wants to be the lover. And the curt truth is that, in a deep secret way, the state of being beloved is intolerable to many. The beloved fears and hates the lover, and with the best of reasons. For the lover is forever trying to strip bare his beloved. The lover craves any possible relation with the beloved, even if this experience can cause him only pain.”

-Carson McCullers

Yep.