Well, there are very few people in my address book without web pages of some kind. Most of them are old diaries or LiveJournals. As a result, there is a long list of long-gone friends who still write in their blogs. I spent the better half of this hour randomly jumping from one contact’s page to another, just to see what they looked like.
My ex-girlfriend hasn’t written on her LiveJournal for at least 6 months. Another girl I knew who used to go to college with her has, but sporadically. A friend of mine who I never talk to anymore (she became a mother) hasn’t written in over a year. Yet another friend, a fellow bipolar whom I used to speak to for hours at a time over the phone late at night hasn’t either. Most people haven’t. Some folks have decided to keep their journals “friends only” which effectively means I can’t see them. Strange since, at one point in time, I was considered a friend.
Bedroom Full of Restless Nights
Earlier tonight, Danica and I were cuddling. I kissed her, and she seemed like she was getting into it. Before long, however, she just told me to stop for some reason which she mumbled under her breath and I couldn’t discern. I couldn’t get her to repeat it either, so I left her be. I’m probably getting tired now, but I can’t bring myself to climb into bed with her and fall asleep. Restless, I guess. No, actually, I feel rejected.
I don’t know how long its been since we’ve been truly, closely intimate. The last time we tried was more than a week ago on Monday night. I had planned to go out to Columbia University to see now-ancient acquaintences. She had initiated sex not long before I needed to get ready to go. By the time I should have been out of the house, it was over because things turned sour for some inexplicable reason and she had curtly asked me to leave her alone. I felt so hurt that I got extremely angry, and we fought for a while that night.
She has become increasingly enamored with a male co-worker, a shy and dorky musician who’s a freshman at NYU. I don’t know if it’s even been a week, but it seems as if she can’t stop talking about him. This isn’t new. There have been at least 3 others, over the course of our relationship, whom she has talked to with such fervor and frequency.
I feel more like the gay friend than the bi boyfriend these days. While there are short moments every other day or so of closeness, when I feel like her partner again, much of the time I feel as though I’m back to being a roommate, which is the term she had used to describe me to a guy she met via Friendster. That pissed me off back then, too. Though my moods may be making me biased, right now I’m having trouble remembering the last time I recieved an unsolicited “I love you” from her. I feel like the nights these days do not belong to me and her anymore. They belong to her and her fantasies about her infatuations.
The other day she made clear to me for the first time that she is most interested in having a relationship with another person together with us. That is, not just a relationship involving herself and another guy, but have that relationship involve me as well in a triad of sorts. That was something I was happy to hear about becuase of the implications of involvement and of consideration that dynamic necessitates. I don’t know how realistic a situation like that really is, but I do believe her when she says that’s her ideal and I know it would be a situation I would be infinitely more comfortable with than a situation where she has an external relationship which doesn’t involve me at all.
However, I have this gnawing concern that what she really means to do is meet someone else who she really likes and, regardless of how I feel about it, get involved with that guy. Like I said, I do believe she’d like me to like him too, and for him to like me so that there is mutually shared affection. In a way, I feel like the girl who’s boyfriend says, “Wouldn’t it be great if we met another girl and you two liked each other and the three of us could all be together?” Well, yes, I suppose it would, but my fear is that should she actually find someone she likes and the situation is one where a love connection can be made (they live nearby, there’s no age gap, there’s mutul attraction—these are the things that have been missing from the previous men she’s become infatuated with)…that if a love connection could be made, consideration for me and my feelings will be easily disregarded in favor of whimsical and lusty impulse.
During a moment of anger (or sadness? Frustration?) Danica asked me today what I have to offer her in this relationship. It was the fourth time I can recall such a direct question assessing my worth. My answer: “I do not need to sell myself to you. You will be with me if you want to be, and you will not—rather, you should not—be with me if you don’t want to. That’s not for me to decide. It’s you’re choice. It’s always been your choice. I love you, and I want to be with you.”
I guess in short my fear can be summed up in the following sentences. I am afraid that she will enter into a relationship that is not for the benefit of everyone. At Saints’ Alp Teahouse earlier, Danica finished reading one of the polyamory links I wrote about the other day. She pointed out this passage to me:
Another good way not to make a poly relationship work is to browbeat your partner, or coerce your partner into accepting it. Poly relationships don’t work if one of the people involved only grudgingly accepts it; it has to be for the benefit of everyone.
I am thinking about printing that out and gluing it to the wall.
I am also considering making this entry private, viewable only by me. I want to tell Danica all these things, but I am afraid that she will not hear them as merely concerns, but as some form of “sword of Damacles” and unfair judgements. There is probably a point where too much honesty and directness is not a good thing—and I am notoriously direct.
It’s winter now. It’s getting cold out there. Even though I’ve closed the window and no matter how deeply I bury myself in the covers, right now I’m still cold in here, too.
I guess if you can read this, then the entry is public.