Post-Exam Ramblings

I just wrote my history test, comparative reconstruction of languages. It was awful. I need to study for tomorrows phonetics test. But in the interim I thought I might write a little, post on here again. I think I’ll start a new blog soon, one I identify with more. I feel like I’ve grown up lots and changed and so on – as always, as life is. And not that I intend to get rid of this or anything, but rather to save it as a relic, a reflection of my past. I’d like to start something new and fresh, optimistic. I lack the words to adequately express myself.

But for now I’m compelled to talk about ‘coming out’.

I resent the concept whole heartedly. The notion that by not openly declaring your sexuality you’re closeted seems absurd. And what does the closet imply? An actual hiding? I was (am?) relatively comfortable in this closet. It didn’t involve a denial. I understood myself as a sexual being, one with feelings and desires and all the rest. The fact that I was, am a male attracted to men was something I understood to have social implications. But I have always lacked the desire to tell people of my sexuality. As if it means something on its own, has a value, a relevance. Most people I meet don’t tell me about their sexuality. And it only has a relevance if sexual interest is at play. So why make otherwise un-sexual encounters sexual?

The part I resent is the pressure. The expectation that all gay people have some sense of common experience in the coming out process – i.e. the expectation that all gay people ‘come out’, that there is a need to ‘come out’, something to ‘come out’ of. With the increasing acceptance (incidence?) of homosexuality, perhaps the casualness of sexuality will be realized. There won’t be hiding?

It’s the parallel I don’t understand. At what point do straight people stop hiding their sexuality? Why don’t heterosexuals have something to ‘come out’ of? Presumably adolescence is this process; why doesn’t it apply equally to straights and gays?

And I am well aware of the potential social implications of homosexuality. But perhaps that’s even more of the reason that I resent the pressure to come out. As though telling people – the very people that will judge you – will in some way help. And I wouldn’t advocate hiding. I don’t think secrecy is remotely the solution. But nor is a declaration – one that has no relevance to people, especially people you have no intention of sleeping with.

Perhaps I live in a world of optimism, beyond our times or something. Presumably gay men can’t just ask out straight men without consequence…

–

So I’m in the midst of exams, have no time for anything but studying. Tell Charles this. Go to visit charles at work, he asks me to make dinner and clean the house – I tell him I can’t I need to study, was just visiting him as a break. He says he’ll grab dinner on the way home. The store is closed when he gets there – he texts angry things demanding that I make dinner. I am so beyond irritated, have no idea how to react, what to say.

Which is just another ineffably dull story in my life, my relationship. It’s become little more than a commitment, one we’re both keeping for some godforsaken reason. I struggle to feel like I gain anything from it anymore but don’t feel inclined to end it.

I don’t like Charles. I love him in the way I always have, appreciate certain qualities. But our core values are so separate, the way we view the world so wholly incompatible that I’m at a bit of a loss. I don’t like feeling that I in any way validate these aspects of his self that I don’t approve of, appreciate – things that I think are actually ‘bad’, have the potential to hurt people, me, himself.

I yearn as always for more. More boys, mainly. But in the most absurd way. It isn’t sex I want, it’s this indescribable level of closeness… I want Danny. I like him, think he’s cute. I don’t think we’d have an intellectual relationship. And frankly I don’t see it being that sexual either. But I just like him – I realize more and more that that’s… the best I can do. I like people. I find them cute and endearing. And in the ‘sexual’ spectrum rather than having an intellectual loving relationship (as I do with my female-friends), I want to sleep with him, hold him close, kiss him, etc. But not really fuck, or be fucked. And not really anything else… It doesn’t need to be much more than the random casual night together, fun, loving… Casual.

Anyhow. That’s all. It’s hard because structuring such relationships is somewhat of a possibility when I’m with Charles. But I don’t feel like it’s incompatible. I don’t know. I feel a bit like I’ll be forever longing, searching for something… Never content with what I have. And maybe that’s valid. I’m not sure… That, to some degree, is life… There always has to be purpose, continuation, moving forward towards something… But I don’t know what things are healthier, preferable to have as goals….

At any rate, my new blog: http://empnefsi.wordpress.com/

(Me and Charles stop for icecream, somewhere in the middle of nowhere)

So I finally feel in a state where there is nothing I feel like doing more than updating this. It has been too long. But living is a priority. And I haven’t felt like doing this so I haven’t.

I suppose I’ve let my relationship take over my life. I haven’t asserted an identity at all, but I haven’t felt the need to. I haven’t been compelled to assert myself, to do what I usually do, to update this, etc.. I’ve largely maintained my social life and the like. And there is no animosity or resentment. But as always I struggle with conceptions of identity, sense of self. What am I? What defines me? And I hesitate to let any of the arbitrariness that defines our worlds to actually be associated with me in any way… Nothing seems positive, everything seems to conform to notions of exclusivity, subscript-ive – all with the most arbitrary criteria, things I hesitate to remotely endorse.

I struggle. As much as ever I suppose, but in different ways. Charles has challenged me, my notions of just about everything. Conceptions of settling, what a relationship is, what day-to-day life looks like. How youth impacts you. Coming to terms with my own repressions, heart-aches, issues… I’ve developed a kind of self-awareness that I never realized was lacking.

I suppose I’m in love. But I feel more inclined to say that I’m satisfied with settling into this relationship, a routine, until I leave Calgary, an expiry date of next May let’s say. It’s comfortable and easy, problems are easily negotiated and dealt with. The real struggles I have are internal – things I can’t handle or deal with appropriately.

As much as anything, I’m beginning to realize that I have no idea what I want from life. The way most people live doesn’t remotely appeal to me. Even Charles – someone I can like on some level – offers me nothing in that regard. But I struggle to conclude that hermitage is the answer, that my own form of social exclusivity is what I yearn for. But I think separation is ultimately the answer – but I don’t know how to structure that in a world that relies, inevitably, on social connections. I struggle to see myself in any way, shape, form at age 45.

I’ve seriously abused drugs twice in the last week. On Sunday me and Charles made an agreement not to use anything – after my debauchery on Saturday. I made him agree not to even smoke pot if he wanted me to feel inclined to quit. And he hasn’t smoked since. But in a rage of internal turmoil, irritation, I used last night. I’ve never had highs like these – if it’s fair to call them that. It’s as though every moment in my life is being lived here and now. Time doesn’t exist outside of this moment. I become an incoherent mess attempting to talk to whoever is in front of me with the expectation that they know exactly what is in my head, as though they are whomever I desire to talk to. Charles came home last night to me drugged out of my mind – I don’t think he caught on, I just kept quiet. But the few comments I did make were so wholly incoherent that I felt embarrassed for myself. It’s a level of drug use I don’t understand and can’t justify. I suppose I yearn for escape from my life, my reality? But even that reeks of such transparent juvenility that I feel I should be above it. Who knows? I suppose that ultimately I’m unhappy. And I don’t know what I can change to make that better. I conclude that it’s the result of intelligence, the cost one must pay for actually having the ability to think. Surely it’s not worth it.

I moved in with Charles which is likely the biggest development and change in my life. It’s been a bit dramatic. And it’s a hard adjustment. But I think it’s ultimately for the best.

I feel needier than ever. I don’t think I could live alone again. I struggle to even conceptualize single-life, in fact. Perhaps I’ll just become a serial monogamist. But I struggle to think of the future in any context, whatsoever.

Father sold his company and, I suppose, is actually retired now. It’s been an odd transition, I think he struggles with it. His constant financial anxieties are beyond tiresome, I hate that I’ve remotely inherited them. My parents struggle to embrace life, to enjoy themselves. And I can’t help but have a level of animosity, blame them in some way for the fact that I feel similarly.

Okay I’m done with this for now. But I feel like I’ll update again soon. The yearning and inclination is coming back. And with school, work, schedule… It seems likely…

Also it’s charles’ birthday this week. Which is somewhat exciting, an excuse for excitement I suppose. I want it to be ordinary because I think he’s been deprived of that, because I don’t want it to be extraordinary. Out for dinner. Go to a park and sit. I bought these sky lantern things made of bamboo and paper – you light them and they fly into the sky and burn up, essentially, all lit up as they go… Which seems pleasant and romantic. And I bought him a camera as a gift which he’ll appreciate, I’m sure. But that should be nice, I’m looking forward to it… Even just an evening alone seems desirable…

(me and Charles on a suspension bridge)

So my life is busier than ever and I feel inclined to update you all. Not that anything eventful in of itself actually happens. But I’m compelled to remember regardless of how good it makes for reading.

I have school Monday through Wednesdays so they are thus largely uneventful, full of work and busyness and glumness and wishing it were over.  I should get on top of some of it. It’s all easy and straightforward, I’m just so disinterested at the moment. I’d rather be in the sunshine, with Charles, adventuring, etc.

On Thursday… Charles had the day off. We lay in bed forever, which is entirely irregular in our relationship. Sleep in till 1 or so, interrupted only by sex. Which is getting consistently better. I make some comment about how I don’t want to waste the whole day, have things to do. But it all comes out wrong and highly offends Charles. I feel cold and indifferent, careless even, he storms off and I go accomplish things, mainly cleaning my house for the rest of the afternoon. I apologize, whole-heartedly; ask him to come over in some convoluted fashion that was completely misinterpreted. We exist separately till dinner time – we had plans with my friend Laura and her new boyfriend Kent. Charles is livid when he finds out I’ve been home most of the day, not spending it with him on his only day off. And I feel bad. But equally am happy to have had time off, alone, independent. But I don’t say that; it wasn’t my intention even. So it’s not excusable it’s just silly. But he gets over it, is fairly understanding.

We go out to dinner with Laura and Kent. Have a good time, drink too much. I enjoy myself at least, we go back to Tyler’s house. Smoke, drink more, order pizza, play Nintendo and watch bad movies. Fall asleep on the couch, make our way home at 4:30 in the morning and go back to bed.

Friday I go to body worlds, some exhibit of bodies at the science center. It’s fun but it confuses me. It’s neither educational nor exhibitionist, hasn’t quite made up it’s mind of what it’s trying to do. Bodies posed in weird positions; an obese person, a woman mid-pregnancy. But clearly still adhering to some arbitrary social standard – no fetuses are posed in bizarre positions, for instance.

Go home and have lunch, meet up with more friends briefly and really just say hello. Go home and make dinner; have friends around – Jackie and her friend Annie who I’d met a few days previously, Charles, Tyler. We eat and drink, go to Tyler’s to do laundry, go home and go to bed.

Saturday… I see my brother, go out for lunch. He seems healthier than ever, but I still completely disapprove of his relationship, as silly as that may be. He goes to Charles’ store and buys some clothes. Which strikes me as odd, really… As though he’s doing it to gain acceptance. But I’m happy with that.

I go home. Pack quickly and have a beer. Go and see Ben, the boy I used to have a crush on. He’s broken up with his boyfriend but it’s for the best. He is silly and dysfunctional, I can’t imagine even sleeping with him now. I’m not at all interested, and for the first time I sense that he is. I find him annoying and irritating, broken without an excuse, without even, really, hope of getting better. I don’t stay long, go home and get ready for Charles to come home. He comes, packs quickly and we leave for my parents cabin.

We drive, stop to get groceries and liquor. We’re in small town Alberta. People stare, presumably because we are gay, perhaps just because we’re from out of town. As we’re leaving a group of guys yells “fags” and drive off. For the first time, really, I find it intensely hurtful. I couldn’t care less what these people think, know better than to let it bother me. But it bothers me… That people care, that people opt to do something that could only ever be harmful, for which they don’t benefit. That… for no real reason… I am subjected to the ‘bad’ side of that equation, the one I’d rather not be on. I have to deal with the bullshit, have people yell at me and hassle me and stare. So that sucks. Charles notices, I make some comment. And Charles will almost never discuss things like that and this case is no exception; he says something like “I’d rather count ponies than talk about injustice” which has become one of my favourite things that he’s said.

Get to cabin, father is there. Mother arrives soon after. We talk, make smores, toast marshmallows over the fire. I don’t know what they think of Charles but I don’t really care; I feel like our heads are in the same place – though they’re surely less thrilled by the relationship than I am. They are accepting, polite. But I don’t think they like him, think too much of him really. But that’s okay. He’s what he is, has a sense of self, is the same with everyone. And I don’t really care what they think… And I say that, but I think I really just mean my mother. My father is accepting and happy; I think he’s supportive of whatever makes me happy. So that’s nice.

I get fairly drunk. We go to bed eventually, I can’t remember. Apparently we have sex, according to Charles I’m embarrassingly loud, my parents surely heard.

Get up the next morning well before Charles, finish my homework, make breakfast with my mom. Wake Charles and eat. My parents and civil and its by no means awkward. Me and Charles go to the aboriginal museum for a while, walk to a teepee and have sex. Walk around, feed gophers. Go back to cabin and have lunch with my parents, far too much food, I do some more homework and Charles watches a movie. We drive to drumheller, go on a swinging bridge and climb hills, smoke, sit and admire beauty. Go to the dinosaur museum and adventure. Buy some groceries; again regulating our PDAs and ‘gayness’ to fit, remotely, into a small town. Go home, Charles cooks me dinner while I do more work. Eat steak and bag salad. Light a fire, watch a movie, have smores again. Fall into bed, have good sex, sleep. Get up this morning. Have sex which delays us lots, drive home. I feel disgusting sick, we stop and get some food, get home and I go straight to class. Finish assignment between classes, go to my next class  – so boring, I write the majority of this. Decide to leave halfway through, come home to Charles – he’s in the midst of cooking me a quiche and a pie…

And that’s all. I’m with Charles now, Tyler left to go buy pudding. The end. That’s the last week of my life. I have so much work to do in the next week… I need to garner some actual self-control and get work done, study for exams, get a start on term-projects…

(me in Vancouver at the playground…)

As always – I wrote this weeks (and now likely months) ago and failed to post it:

So I haven’t updated this in forever.

And now really isn’t the time, I have papers to finish and exams to study for. But apparently I’m a fan of poor decisions.

I went to a drag show on Saturday and had a really nice time. It was completely uneventful, really, a normal night essentially. But super interesting, it filled me with questions: who does this? Why do they see ‘x’ aspect as feminine? Why do all the couples consist of one drag girl and a boy? Etc. etc.. There is just an entirely defined, interesting social dynamic, one that you need to learn, one that I know nothing about. So interesting. So so interesting.
And half-way through the night, among other sexualizations, interestingness, this girl comes over and says to me “My friend over there (pointing vaguely) wanted me to tell you that he thinks you’re cute”. We attempt to identify the boy to little avail; in drag, etc. judgment seems impossible. The boy we (I?) decide on walks to the other side of the room, I’m lost in what is considered socially acceptable, would like to talk to this boy, see what happens.

I go to the washroom. Go to the sink to wash my hands and there he is. I know him from somewhere but can’t place him, surely the drag aspect doesn’t help. We talk awkwardly, he asks me a few questions. Where I work, what I study. He’s mad confident, but doesn’t even allow for me to be. He has a sense of what he wants (me), but seems to embrace this perceived awkwardness, my anxiety or something. I ask questions but he has no interest in answering. He gives me a napkin with his number, advises me to text, not call – it’ll be less awkward that way. I get the impression that he wants to… break me out of my shell or something. He wants to be the one to liberate me. I sense he isn’t just into me sexually – though surely he is. He wants to take some responsibility with it, introduce me to a world, a life, a way of living that… well, that’s intensely foreign.

I open the napkin, it says: “I think you’re cute, I want you”. Flattering, direct. I appreciate it. I text him (though I use the wrong number at first). He responds almost immediately: “Chris from last night I hope!”

And in every interaction he’s been so eager, enthused. I find it so amazing, it makes me feel so much more valid in… how I feel I should pursue people, but haven’t, not wholly, not really. And is, of course, validating in of itself.

As much as anything, I guess it’s flattering to be pursued rather than pursuing for once.

Anyhow, we’re going on some sort of date on Thursday. I don’t really know what that will entail. It seems fairly, exclusively, mutually sexual. I can’t see either of us really looking for anything other than that. But I don’t know how eager I am to just sleep with him. But why not?

It’s just this odd level of sex, of relationship. We aren’t going to date, I’m sure of it. We are in different intellectual leagues, etc.. But that doesn’t invalidate something else – we can still love each other, lust for each other, enjoy one another’s company. Sleep together, have sex together when it’s convenient. All of these things that I’ve been yearning for, that I assume most of us yearn for.

I guess my only real anxiety is what he’s looking for. Again, just because it’s this odd level of interaction. Not a one night stand, but not really something serious. But going out together, on something resembling a date… It just makes me wonder.

But I needn’t be worried. I’m just going to be happy. Embrace it, look forward to it. See what happens. I guess, as much as anything, I’m not sure how I’m really ‘supposed’ to behave come Thursday, what to expect, what he’s looking for. But I think those are just the healthy pre-date type thoughts, in this case slightly different merely because this is essentially the first time that I’ve really dated someone that I’ve met before, a real-life interaction, knowing each other in some ‘real’ way. Not online, not completely unknown to one another, not a one-night stand. I know this boy is interested, if nothing else. We don’t need to establish mutual interest, which is what every date I’ve otherwise been on has consisted of. So it’ll be interesting to see where it goes.

And Thursday is also the day I finish school. For the most part, anyways. So it all seems like nice timing, I’ll finish my test, go to the doctor, and then off to see boy-face….
I’ll let you know how it goes.

-

So it’s Friday morning. I went on my date with Charles. I’m legitimately glad I did.

I go over, feeling fairly awkward at first at least. He tells me to come over anytime, whenever’s convenient and such. So I do, but those initial nervousnesses are there, I drink gin and take codeine, alleviate my anxiety.

I walk over, he comes and lets me in. His apartment is cute, “sea-foam” walls, half-modern half-antique, shabby-chique type. His living room doubles as a room for ‘gem’, his drag identity. His bedroom is plain but more boyish.

We talk a little, awkwardly, leave right away to go fly a kite. We climb up the largest hill both out of breath, he says things like “If this works out, I’d love for us to come here and make out in the rain.” He’s cute and endearing, but I’m left at a bit of a loss as to what he’s looking for. I don’t know that it matters. He exists in the moment. We fly the kite, it’s fun and perfectly childish and boyish.

It starts raining as we walk home, we’re both wet and freezing and beautiful. We talk, I’m surprised that he’s actually somewhat learned and intellectual. I say that with a grain of salt – he hasn’t completed high school, grew up between foster homes, alcoholic mother, broken father. But we talk about books he’s reading at the moment, I’m shocked at his knowledge of intricate details of Madonna, Kylie Minogue, etc. and their music videos. He clearly has the ability and potential to be intelligent, one that was never really embraced.

We get home, change into (his) dry clothes – it’s a bit of an excuse to check each other out, a bit transparent and juvenile. We bake cookies, make tea, pizza, salad. We sit across from one another for a while, then suddenly he’s beside me. Which leads into making out for hours and hours, interrupted only by cookie baking. We shed clothes gradually, everything feels highly normal, healthy, regular.

A friend comes over, the girl who had approached me at the coronation on Charles’ behalf. She’s fun and interesting and exciting, they’ve only known each other a week. We talk and drink orangina.

After she leaves we make our way to bed. More and more touching, feeling, Charles says he wants to fuck me, but not yet. There’s something I find endearing about that – maybe he’s just sensitive to what I want. But I’d rather wait, it seems more fun. I feel his penis, he feels mine. Im shocked at how big he is, that he’s able to pull off dresses and skirts and so on with no appearance of a [sizeable] package.

We fall asleep together, interrupted only by caresses, kissing.

I say and do all the wrong things. But there’s no self-consciousness. It’s Charles.

He shows me his wardrobes, beautiful clothing. Expensive beside cheap, thousand dollar pants he’s decided to put neon paint all over and the like. I love his house – he collects pineapples and unicorns, crosses and giraffes. His crockery is all antique, mismatched. Beautiful teacups.

We get up, shower, go for breakfast. I walk him to work. And I’m left a little bit in love with him, entirely unsure of what’s next, of where this will go, of where I want this to go.

A day or so later:
So I went to my friend Katie’s to drink wine etc. while Charles was at bar.

I was telling her about Charles and as I was talking about our date and said something like “we flew a kite and then we walked home in the rain and then we baked cookies” and she was just like “no fucking way” – SO: it turns out she was in line behind him at the coffee shop that is attached/co-owned to/by the cheese shop she works at, and he brought them all “gay love cookies” and updated them of his kite-flying date of which they were all completely and totally aware. Which I think is just ridiculously coincidental and eerie. this whole thing is full of that – like the fact he lives across the street and such. craziness.

anyhow – then katie was telling me that she knows charles – in that frivolous way you know any customer – but that he used to come into the shop specifically to check out colin (the straight boy I obsessed over for forever and got myself invited to their work party in order to be around him more etc. etc.). So this all just makes me laugh inside. the end.

And there are these snippets which make me smile and represent Charles quite well:

we met up and he was wondering what kind of pants i was wearing. so he undid them, pulled them open, and searched through the labels to figure it out.

my fly was undone. he just grabbed my crotch and did it up…
I have another wonderful night with Charles and we slept lots and lots and still didn’t have sex (anal, to be explicit, we’ve done everything else I can think of. Other than rimming, but I’m assuming neither of us is too into that) and then we showered together etc. etc.

I like him lots. I really like that he’s into drag and does these things, I feel so nonjudgmental. He’s performing on Saturday. I’m excited. I don’t know what my point is.
I’m so wholly content with my life for once which is nice. A satisfying change… I like Charles and the summer and the warmth, the fact that I have no [real] job, endless days of sunshine, tea, wine. Luxuriating. The fact that I’m busy but it’s the right type of busyness, all of my commitments are completely about me in the most self-satisfying way – people want me, desire me to be there, but don’t care if I’m not. With volunteering which is a large part of my life, with my job (at a decent clothing store with friend who is manager, but I needn’t ever work)… It’s all idyllic and perfect and happy.
I think I have more grasp on… life in general, of what I want, of where I see myself going. I lacked that so completely before that I struggled; confused conceptions about inability to fit in, abnormalcy, the loss of confidence in self, lack of faith in my own ability to have a relationship etc. All subsided, all gone. Validated in some way by Charles.

Our relationship confuses me and I don’t know what I want from it. It scares me in that it could be really very serious if I wanted it to, the fact that I have that power and control is daunting. I could do better and I know that, and I hate that… I have that feeling in any way, that what I really mean by that is someone more intellectual, someone who would earn more or something. Some of it is valid, surely. Someone that… I’d rather have kids with. But for now I’m living in the moment, enjoying it all, having sex, enjoying life, being young.

I am almost certainly moving to Vancouver in a year. It feels like a great option – close, but not too close. Realistic. Property values etc. make sense, I can easily buy and live happily. With roommate, or Charles, or who knows what.

The territory of relationship frightens me. Charles is renewing his lease – he was going to move to Vancouver or Toronto essentially but… is staying for me I guess? Which is scary. Changing life plans and the like, putting things on hold. So tentatively I will sell my house here, we will move to Vancouver next May-ish and live there forever? Who knows…

I find my attitudes have changed. That’s an exaggeration, I just have a sense of them now. Before I felt lost in conceptions of career and existence, where I would find satisfaction and the like. I never saw myself working with children or something, not really. But for once I have that, on some level at least. I can easily see myself being an elementary school teacher, gaining some level of genuine satisfaction out of it, teaching children, being around them, doing silly art projects. Not working too hard, enjoying myself, living somewhere beautiful and making ends meet. Having a partner of some sort, living together in a fantasy world of delicious food and sex and busyness, beaches and sunsets, copious amounts of wine, friends, children. Vacations. Enough but not too much, never left wanting, not really anyways. This kind of satisfying mediocrity I never saw before, never seemed available to me. The knowledge that just by acting, being a gay person, a citizen, a teacher… Doing these normal things, having a partner, a family fundamentally challenges, in a positive and mature way, so many ingrained attitudes seems significant.

Like volunteering I feel that way. I work at a Catholic school, my sexuality would surely be contentious, not something acceptable. Or the everyday ridiculousness me and Charles deal with, being hassled on the street and such, offhand bigoted comments like “faggots” or “fucking gays”. Suddenly I’m aware that just living my life the way I do, the way I want to, actually has some weight – it challenges assumptions, makes people look twice. And while that’s not wholly positive, and I don’t know how to adequately explain that… It feels healthy, as though there is point to it, a worth. That this level of mediocrity is enough for me in of itself.

And finally what I’m actually writing today. Which likely won’t be much.

I’ve become absurdly busy. It varies radically on a day-to-day basis. Today is Monday and thus is hellish. I have class from 11 am – 9:15 pm. It’s horrific. But I do this… three more times and then I am done. Until next year. So it seems worthwhile. I just struggle to get through it. Especially when the classes themselves are so boring.

My life is wholly fantastic. I’m really happy with it. I’ve established routines where I didn’t expect them and it’s nice. Me and Charles essentially live together, this relationship has become so serious involved so fast and I don’t fear that anymore. We sleep together every night. We’re thinking of getting a dog (we decided that if we’re still together three months from now we will…). My practical side urges me to structure living together – I know better than to rush into something so silly, but it seems absurd to live across the street from one another, to pay for two places when we may as well be in one.

It’s all interesting and challenging. It makes me wonder, further consider what I actually want from this, from life in general I suppose. It’s forced me to validate so many of my opinions, and challenges me all over all the time. How important is an intellectual aspect to a relationship? Is that something I can actually satisfy elsewhere? Do I want a partner who has more money, earning potential? And the more generic things: is this really love? And while I’m whole-heartedly happy to admit that it is, in the moment at least… Could it be more, better, etc.?

To give more context to some of these points:

We’ve discussed having sex outside of our relationship. Essentially we’re both good with that, polyamory, so long as it’s open and discussed and known. At this point there wouldn’t be time for either of us, surely. But the option, long-term and such, is definitely there. We’re on the same page.

So then Charles asked for permission to sleep with this guy. He’s good looking, just broke up with his wife. Charles’ phone is broken and this man will fix it, for free, in exchange for sex, essentially.

So this just pushed me to my limits, justifying, analyzing theory and thoughts that I’ve always had. In what contexts is extra-relationship sex alright? (and by that I mean for me, not some objective standard)

But there is something that I found irksome about it. I feel that if Charles were to have sex with someone because, say, they offered him something I didn’t I would understand. If it were just sexual curiosity, a desire for variety and such I think I’d be understanding. But… it’s blatant prostitution. And for a small price, like really very cheap. I think I’d charge more than what it costs to fix a cell phone.

So I told him not to essentially. I’m glad that we discussed it, are open to it, to communicating and so on. And I definitely wasn’t offended – my theory is in line with practice. So I found it validating in a way. I was glad that there wasn’t a breakdown in that regard. People kept suggesting that once I was in a relationship there would be this change of opinion – my openness to polyamory would subside or something. And it hasn’t, and I’m glad for that.

Anyhow, that’s all. I don’t have much else to say. My life is routine and uneventful, I feel less compelled to work and earn money than ever before. But I should be coming in to some money so that’s good.

We’re going away this weekend, staying with my parents at their ‘cabin’. We plan on going camping, Charles really wants to go white water rafting. Which would just be a hilarious joke. But we’ll see…

Okay. Well class is starting. I’m glad that I’ve finally updated this. I’ll try harder to at least sporadically update…