How hard, how bitter it is to become a man!

It is not a win or lose situation. It is something I have never, ever experienced. I know myself really well. And I know how I like to deal with things, but this does not seem to be following this pattern. I feel (or did feel) like I did what I needed to do. I know I am pretty callous. I do not really feel much… I lack in emotions.

He came over today to talk again. I did not have any answers for him. None. We talked for almost two hours and I just feel like a horrible person all over again. The only thing I really had to say was that I am fucked up. I do not know how to express myself in any way, at least not to people. I can write it all down, and publish it on the internet, but somehow that makes it not real. Something about actually uttering the words from my mouth… I cannot do it. I went balls out though.

I asked him if he had ever read The Stranger by Albert Camus. He looked it over and said no. I told him that it pretty much illustrates how I think and feel (or not feel). I said “the first line, it’s me… and it’s so fucked up.” He read it and could not wrap his head around it. I did not expect him to understand. It does not even make sense. But that is it… that is how I am.

I need to talk to my mom. I need to see what she thinks. She and I had a lot of talks about this relationship when I was out there visiting them. But things are not exactly going like I figured they would. I need her insight. Hopefully she will answer her phone next time I call.

I know that a softer world is pretty well known, but this week… it really makes an impact.

Breathe in deep, let it out slow

I feel so fucking rotten. I feel like I have ruined everything. I know I can fix it all by saying I would take him back, but I do not think it is a good idea. Everything is so fucking confusing. But I cannot do anything but feel guilty. I am so sorry. But I really do think it is for the best. At least now I really cannot do any more damage that I have.

Right?

More tension

I am not an argumentative kind of guy. I let almost everything just go… totally relaxed and take everything with a grain of salt. But there are things about me that people do not understand, and you know what… that is expected. If I were to ever find anyone that actually understood everything about me, I would be quite scared. For the both of us.

While putting the finishing touches on my apartment, I received a text message from the boyfriend:

I can’t help but notice when you don’t seem interested in having sex. Something wrong?

What the hell? Just because you know I like jockstraps and you happen to wear one (or as you called it, “throwing yourself” at me) does not mean that I am going to want to have sex with you. Can we go a night or two without having sex? Do we really need to be having such a heated discussion over text messages? He says he would have never done so many things but he does them with me. I almost felt like he was trying to say he makes so many sacrifices and I do not… so I asked for examples.

Like wearing sexy underwear and jocks and bottoming. I just feel like sex is one of the only ways you show affection.

Ouch. Now that is fucked up. So I said that we need to talk later. I know I have issues with expressing my emotions, but at the same time, it is a choice I make. I do not wear my heart on my sleeve, it is a defense mechanism. But in this situation, it is more of a defensive mechanism on his behalf. I do not want to hurt him, but it seems like I really do not have much of a choice. We shall see.

Grown

I moved the majority of my things last week, and have been waiting ever since for my friend to have some free time to help me move the rest of the things with her car. So everything was well on its way, just at a stand still. So we planned to finish this the other day, which could not come any sooner. The other night, my boyfriend’s roommate and I had a little talk about me being in the house. I know he does not want me here when the boyfriend is not here, but that is not so-much fair. So I explained to him that I am moving my stuff but have to wait for certain outside forces to induce the moving process. Everything seemed fine. However, yesterday when I came home to shower, I was here for all of thirty minutes… if that. While I was in the shower, he realized I was there and slammed the door to his bedroom. This has been something he has been doing for a couple weeks before I left for New Mexico. I guess it is his way to let me know he does not appreciate my being. The first few times I really felt like I was imposing, so I took myself out of the house more and more often. But after his actions of yesterday I feel no need to give him the freedom of being alone in his own house. What kind of immature bastard slams the door? I would expect that kind of behavior from a ten year old, but the boy is in his mid-twenties… grow up.

The greatest of wealths

Today marks the day that I will begin this moving process. I will spend much of today cleaning out the apartment and maybe start moving things. Tomorrow will be a continuation where I will hopefully move the majority, if not all my things over. I am way too excited. I also go back to work this evening. I like my job, it cracks me up–a constant source of entertainment.

I think this whole process of closing down a lot of my life to begin it all over again on my own is what excites me. I enjoy my self-sufficiency . Now lets hope I can do everything I need to do without fucking everything up.