Now That I'm Forty...

Wednesday, November 17, 2004

Feeling A Little Better Now

I just took a three hour nap. I'll have to leave for work at 4:00am, so I'm going to try to go back to sleep, but I wanted to blog again.

This is sooooo therapeutic!

The below post about my sexuality is still totally legit, but after having written it, I feel so much less oppressed by the issue. Having typed it out/worked it through/read it back, I can figure out what I would say if that blogger had shared all that with me in a session.

First, this same-sex attention the blogger is describing does not sound erotic. By daily observation, he is not experiencing anything unusual. In fact, females experience a more liberated attitude toward their sexuality and sexual bonding with other females than do males. The blogger sounds as if he is unaware of that. His sexual imaging of attractive males is part of the common experience all genders partake in. However, the socialization of males cause us to label such process as homosexual or homoerotic. In the female socialization, such labels are not given. For an example, it isn't considered unusual for women to walk arm in arm, leaning against one another out of simple affection. A friendly greeting kiss is shared by hetereosexual women across the entire planet. No matter what emotional questioning or attraction women have for one another, they rarely agonize about it if they are heterosexual. They openly comment on other women's physical attribtes, and whether they like or dislike another woman's features. Yet the blogger feels as if he might have homosexual underpinnings for doing the exact same thing.

Secondly, I know something of this blogger's history. He was never brought into the sexual process in any healthy manner. Upon puberty, his only parent and educator was a single mother who had severe emotional impairment. The topic of sexuality was never discussed openly. In fact, the parent in question once struck the blogger as they were watching a love scene in a certain movie. She thought she was dispensing a casual cautionary warning. Its resonance did not play out that way, however (obviously). It set up a Pavlovian response to sex, in fact. (Urrrgh!! That STUPID freaking WOMAN!!!!) By the time he had begun experimenting with sex, he was already secretive and ashamed of it. He never began to share his curiosities or questions with other males. Then he joined a strict religious sect at 16 and begun the indoctrination of sex-as-sin. He could not discuss sex with his fellow parishoners as freely as he needed to because of this stigma. To speak of it, and the experimentation of it, was to entertain lust, which was sin. Marriage was the only answer to sex, but the blogger lacked emotional maturity and could not bring himself to marriage. So the sexual immaturity continued, and continues to this day.

That's as far as I got. I imagine that if I were a hetereosexual woman, I'd be an affectionate one. I'd love to cuddle with my girlfriends and talk about sex. I'd be the Samantha of the group, I'm sure of it. In fact, I now realize that I freaking ENVY women their freedom.

You know how males are socialized to be friendly with one another? Through competition. We are trained that a good handball session where I beat the snot out of my buddy is BONDING. That in order to touch him in a friendly manner, I have to be smacking him or punching him. (LITERALLY. I've seen adolescent boys doing this. Out of the blue, they begin shadow-boxing each other or wrestling. This isn't latent homosexuality. This is the reaching out for human contact, but being forced by society not to do it effeminantly.) The most neutral contact we males can manage is the handshake, which historically, arose from two warriors making a gesture to ensure that they weren't going to eviscerate each other with their swords.

Do men SUCK, or WHAT???????

(Oh, by the way, after searching out the Sex In The City reference, I realized I never told you the following; This guy is a regular in my Starbucks. I've chatted with him in quite the buddy-buddy fashion, but so far I've only managed to discuss coffee-related stuff. Then I noticed that he's much more friendly with another co-worker who has been on hiatus and stopped by the other day, and everything IN me wants to replace That Guy. Am I a shameless groupie or what?)

Anyway, I've just jotted off an e-mail to Valentine's Day Girl based on the last lunch we had together. She fed me when I was broke and money'd up my subway card so I could get home. Unfortunately, during the lunch/dinner she tried to guilt me into going to her place for Thanksgiving instead of just asking me. So I didn't change my Thanksgiving plans because I'm worried about her methods. I don't want to be cajoled, pressured, blackmailed, kittened, or teased into stuff. So, even moreso, I don't want to pursue a relationship with her. I still get the impression that she's immature, no matter how much I like her flirtatious, spicy ways. And I DO like them. Very much. It even turns me on, which I didn't think they did (hehe, back when I thought I might be a closeted homosexual).

HAHAHAHA!! IT'S SO GOOD TO COME OUT OF THE CLOSET AND DISCOVER THAT I'M A HETEROSEXUAL!!!!!!!!! (It's just that I'm not your average hetero. I gots issues.)

So, here's the e-mail I planned on sending her;

--- "<(Edited: "Valentine's Day Girl")> wrote:

> "Alan (AKA Dr.Jeckyl /Mr. Hyde),
>
> "Did I ...do something to make you mad AGAIN??????

"First, I have to say how sorry I am that you got mugged. That's THE experience no one wants, and I'm glad you are okay and safe now.

"Secondly, I'm not mad about anything you've done. I'm not mad about anything at all in fact. Unless we're working with the definition of "mad" in the Elizabethan sense of mental illness. Because I am that.

"Third, you don't seem to really get it about what my problems are. I tried to be as honest with you as I could, but you seem to think I can change. I also seem to think I can change, so you haven't done anything wrong. But the fact is that I cannot change. I'm forty years old and it's time I face the truth that I can't change.

"I really don't know what God wants to do with me anymore and I'm trying to find out. In the meanwhile, I'm no good to anyone as a serious friend. The only thing I can pursue with any amount of energy is escapism. :-) Do your best to believe this so you can save yourself a bunch of frustration. Cool?

"Meanwhile, all my attempts at getting public assistance has failed and so now I have to pursue/restart my career in NJ again. I'm lookng into getting office space in Jersey City so I can start giving my name to insurance companies. I've been to court about the rent that I owe and I'll have to reappear in December and explain what I'm trying to do to get income again. Hopefully I won't be kicked out as a result.

"I may still be able to sell my car if I can easily commute to the Jersey City location. Otherwise, I'm not sure at all ho I'm going to get the money to start a counseling practice if I can't even pay my own rent.

"On the bright side, thanks for reaching out to me--it's been one of the few salvageable things in what has turned out to be the absolute, hands down, WORST year of my life."

Except, now I realize that I didn't write the truth. I CAN change. Always, people can change. I know what I want, and it isn't her, that's all.

I'M GLAD I DIDN'T SEND THIS LETTER YET!!!

Lemme go edit...

Okay.

Now that whole third part reads as follows;

"Third, I really don't know what God wants to do with me anymore and I'm trying to find out. The only thing I can pursue with any amount of energy is escapism.
:-) "

Is my life exciting or what?

Not quite so afraid anymore.

Me at 11/17/2004 09:38:00 PM

The Worst Year of My Life

And that is to say, I'm actually suicidal at this moment. Not actively, mind you. But I wish my heart would just stop.

I found out that I was rejected for rental assistance.

Also found out that I am supposed to be getting a 'determination letter' from NJ Unemployment which was sent to an incorrect address. It was supposed to be either a determination letter or checks. So I'm assuming I was rejected for that too and will know better when they finally send it to the correct address.

My friend (the soon-to-be-doctor) suggested that I should get back into NJ for employment because there's no guarantee that when the NY application process goes live, I would become a licensed counselor in NY within any relative amount of time. I agreed with him, and continue to do so.

So I have to find some energy from somewhere to try to get back into the job market of NJ. Dig and search for counseling practices willing to let me rent a suite from them, or just a real estate person with an office to lease me, and find out how much money I don't have to start that ball rolling.

Couple this with the obvious elephant in my room.

I don't have enough natural desire for females to get me to stay in a relationship with one. Raw lust should have had me at least married and divorced by now. If I was like other men, I'd have made the jump in the name of poonani.

But I think my mental illness has become a much more powerful force in my life than sexual desire.

I've been forced to consider my sexuality lately. There are gay males that I work with in Starbucks to whom I find myself totally unattracted. Effeminate males are usually pretty gross to me. But I have to ask if it's because I'm a typical homophobic insecure hetero male, or am I a closeted effeminate queer my own self? I do everything I can to prevent acting effeminate, but why would it ever even be a concern if there were no possibility of it?

And what do I think of men anyway?

Attractive men are great, that's what.

But so are attractive women. I love the wide hips and flat stomachs of women. The area for which I'd love to get on my knees, wrap my arms around the thighs, and nuzzle my face against the side of. And I love breasts. Love 'em.

I don't want sexual contact with men in the same way, but I find myself very admirous of a good strong set of shoulders, a six pack, or stout biceps. When I see a fella who's athletic, my first reaction is to want to clap him on the back with idolatrous admiration. I want instantly to be his best friend. I want to engage him in conversation just to gain his good regards and an approval of ME. Then if I dwell long enough, I begin to want to use him as my sexual avatar. That is, as a stand in for my sexual fantasies. I want to see him "make love to these women, languid and bittersweet" Of course with that comes watching HIS reactions to sex as well as her reactions. The sounds HE makes as well as her sounds. He becomes my hero.

Is that being a homosexual? Am I a homosexual?

I can tell you, I don't want to be touched by him. I don't want to do any staring into the eyes thing--that's just disgusting to me. And again, I'm not into kissing. So a man kissing a man is right out . No thank you. Don't even wanna see it. I'm into the chemistry of woman + man. The sheer yin/yang of it. It's so right, to me. The hero and the maiden. The protector and the beloved.

Yet I don't have enough drive to pursue the role of the hero. I only ever idolize OTHER men, but never seem to become that man myself. I have always started out with the greatest of intentions and enthusiasm. I would hunt for the slightest cue from my woman on how to be her Knight, so that I could fulfill this archetype. Through my transformation as "Her Man" I would build in confidence and passion until--POW!! We lay together sweating and panting, hearts triphammering, wondering what the heck just happened, and how soon can we do it again?

Yeah, by the way, I'm still a virgin. At Forty.

So in this, I know I'm not gay. But the confusion that remains leaves me clammy with despair. I have no desire to be gay. I don't want to fight that fight. I have struggled all my life to be accepted. My whole personality has lead me towards seeking approval and avoiding fights. I don't care how many Emmys "Will and Grace" wins, or how many mainstream films show a full-on man/man smooch, homosexuality will never be considered as the legitimate "third gender". There will always be a stigma because there will ALWAYS be the expectation of seeing a man and a woman in romantic contact on a given streetcorner, as opposed to the opposite. Putting aside all my religious convictions and beliefs and interpretations, I just think that the same way you'd expect to see a ball fall downward to the ground when you release it, you'd expect to see heterosexuality between the sexes. Anything else you'd have to adjust to and cope with. For some the effort is impossible and for some the leap is made without a backward glance.

But I don't WANT to go through that struggle. I want to be accepted. I want to have confidence in myself and in them, if ever I let my walls down and let myself get that vulnerable. In fact, I HAVE to. I can't perform anything emotional or sexual unless I have that confidence and acceptance.

This is how my last relationship died. Even though she said she wanted me, I let her down too many times on the sexual exploration. I wouldn't kiss her the way she wanted me to. I wouldn't discuss our sexuality enough to make her confident that I'd be able to 'handle my business' with her. She lost confidence in my ability to be that Hero for her. And so consequently did I. So no matter what she said from that point on, I knew it would all be a farce. I'd just be a pretender, never really a Hero, but just a Jimmy Olsen, hiding in the Hero's shadow, terrified of being found out. Eventually belittled and rejected by her.

And this situation makes me wish I were dead. Peace at last. Abdication of all this financial and emotional responsibility. An end to all these horrible reminders of my inadequacies and these daily reminders of my lack of ability to function as a sexually mature adult male. I want to finally cross this marathon finish line. In this race, I'm not only trying to catch up to the successful male avatar, but I'm trying to outrun the spectres that tell me I'm not even in the correct race. That I'm competing with the wrong opponents. They tell me I'm not even qualified because I don't have the same equipment.

You see, deep down I'm afraid that if I haven't gotten the right equipment by Forty, I'm never going to get it. I'm afraid that despite all the religious pursuit and beliefs that keep what's left of my sanity together, that actually I'm a dodo trying to join eagles.

I'm afraid that one day I'll die alone and unloved.

I'm afraid that I have no control in this matter.

I'm afraid.

Me at 11/17/2004 01:04:00 PM