Vulnerability Catharsis

photos courtesy of Theo Jemison

I haven't been completely real with you.
When I sought you out, it was a mixture of embracing inspiration and seduction. Your image seemed so ideal, so complete, and I fell for it bigtime. I was ready for a challenge, something more difficult but worth the effort.

So the night we first hung out, it was surreal. And then it became more surreal as you wanted to come back to my place. And the sex was surreal. Too much, too soon surreal. As in, this isn't what I want right away surreal. Meaningless and fleeting and still surreal. If I could put your hand on my chest when you're near, it would feel like cardiac arrest. Playing it cool was never my strength, I am as emotional as a raging bonfire. And here you are, in my bed, sleeping like a beast curled around his lovedoll. It was so mind-blowing, I can't even remember what it feels like to sleep next to you. And I keep asking myself, is this real? And every time I received messages from you, I was on a high. And when there were no texts or IMs, I was moody. WTF, this never happens. I don't sweat guys.

Then came The Devil card. All those words like tiny pentacles hooked into my heart. I was 14 years old again, being deflowered by my best friend's boyfriend on the sly, bleeding and not knowing what was happening. Is this what love feels like, because I have no idea. Surely it is, but is this all? But in a way, I asked for my demons to come to light so that I can exorcise them. I fear rejection and abandonment. There, I said it. I know I emphasized how important it was to me to have a friendship with you. I still mean it, but this feels like less of a friendship, and more like an ongoing craigslist encounter. I would make excuses for you (pisces, busy, blah blah) when my friends ask about 'the new guy'. No, we're not dating. No, we don't hang out. Is it because I am utterly intimidated and not myself around you? Look at this sprawling mess I've gotten myself in. I don't even know who I am. I am not present, not self-referring. I am a tear in the fabric between old and new. My head is stuck in that bewitching cloud of smoke you leave behind after we have sex. Sex, to me, still feels very much like love, especially with someone I feel an emotional draw to. Is it purely physical to you? It still feels like the only times you seek me out are when you're feeling lascivious. Have I cultivated this position for myself to be the devil's secret concubine? Jeez, I'm so much more than that.

I met your friends (S, J, etc) when I hung out with E one night. He had the impression that I was into him, but honestly, I am more into you than anybody I have ever been into, boyfriends included. So there was concern on my part that unfortunate rumors would sway your mind. I could eat an entire chocolate bunny right now.

When you told me you read my blog, I was definitely interested more in your feelings about what I'd wrote. I'd like to know where I stand in your life, even if it is the lowest rung. It seems that you may still be emotionally attached to your ex, as well as still with her, which kinda makes you emotionally unavailable. Once, you texted that I had you feeling "tres weird", which was inexplicable on your part. Nothing further? Because I'd like to know. Bad. Because I like you. A LOT. And it pains me to feel like I'm covertly chasing a grey cloud of smoke. Somebody barely available or not even tangible in my life. But I'm still giving it up and putting out like some easy sucker-for-love. I made myself vulnerable to you, wore my heart on my sleeve. Never have I even thought of doing that for an unknown stranger. Impulsively stupid. It's ok, I can handle being stupid sometimes, because I know I'm not.

Maybe this is how you move, but I am a hurricane of feelings right now. I just wanted you to know all this. I don't play games very well. This is me and this is how I feel.