The Anti-Climax... (hee!)

So after all that, we didn't actually have sex.

The gig was awesome, The Dukes of Windsor are hot, you should check them out! Great music, good looking boys... and the audience was super hot too- so if you are already a fan of the Dukes, you can rest assured that I probably think you are hot. It was almost painful, looking at all the beautiful indie boys and wondering why I had invited AFL. Indie boys are the best kind.

AFL and I danced a bit, my body pressed back against his. It was lovely, he was tall and warm and solid, his head occasionally bending to kiss or nuzzle my hair. We aren't casual or relaxed in our touching yet, so touching him, and having him touch me, is still fraught with nerves and excitement. Which is actually lovely. The heady rush of touching and being touched is still there- after all there's never touching better than the first few times you do it. He is lovely to touch...some quality in his skin and muscles, some nameless thing that I don't find with everybody... chemistry, I guess you'd call it- I still tingle when I touch him. Perhaps that's why I invited him, rather than trying to pick up some beautiful indie boy.

We went home after the concert ended and started to watch The Grudge with a couple of mates but I just wasn't in the moment. It was nice to be cuddled up on the couch, but the movie wasn't scaring me at all. Perhaps the first sign that I was a bit worn out- I couldn't suspend my mental chattering long enough to be afraid of the movie, like I usually can.

Got to bed, both of us torn- the possibility of sex was hanging in the air, mingling with our mutual tiredness, making everything a bit cloudy and confused. We half-heartedly started fooling around, even though I for one would have been content to just press myself naked against the length of him, and doze. He was kissing his way down my belly, with me watching him, but I wasn't responding how I should. It was almost mechanical, and he sensed it. He kissed my hipbone, and then looked up at me.

"Something just doesn't feel quite right tonight." I smiled inwardly, pleased that he'd seen it, pleased that he agreed.
"I was thinking exactly the same thing." I said something inane about how we shouldn't have sex just because we can, but wait until we want to. He nodded. Everything was lovely and relaxed, I wasn't stressed, and it took at least twenty minutes for the thought 'Maybe he just doesn't want to have sex with me?" to cross my mind, and I supressed it. So we slept.

I am also being crazy possessive about him, with no right to be so- some chicks (hot chicks!) he met at some function ran into us in the Valley last night, and literally begged him to go out drinking with them, while I stood and waited for him to finish chatting, I got all freaky and weird about it. Grrr! Also stalking chicks he knows on Myspace. Yes, I'm sad, my little adventures into creepy-stalker-girl-ness make me wonder if this thing is more trouble than it's worth. Or perhaps I just crave more from him than I'm currently getting.

I am honest to goodness not sure- I don't know if I would want to date him, if that was an option. I had considered discussing it with him last night but the topic never came up, and for the moment I am happy to let it rest. Go figure, letting thing happen as they will, maybe I have grown up a little bit lately?

So after all that musing, I've hit low again. I'm sure it will pass and it's only very mild, but you know it's never nice. I was reading a blog post over at pretty dumb things about how much she loves anal (I share this love) and it made me miss the ex a lot- despite all the problems, we had a lot of similar likes in bed, and there was the comfort of being always, always wanted, no matter what. Which I've never really had before. Got a bit frightened of never finding someone I love, even though I know that's ridiculous- and I didn't love the ex anyway. Unpleasant, but true.

As you may have seen in the last post, I am a little afraid that maybe I -can't- fall in love. Or perhaps, more specifically, that I can't fall in love with someone who is actually available to me. I have fallen in love, but that one, the one who got away, despite our brief 'interaction' was pretty much always un-available to me. Mope mope, angst, etc. *ahem*


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Songs That Are Worth Pausing When You Sneak Off to the Loo

(Which takes like, two seconds anyway.)

Damien Rice - 9 Crimes
Horropops - What's Under My Bed?
The Audreys - Banjo and Violin
The Audreys - A Little More
James Blunt - Out of My Mind
Dresden Dolls - Coin Operated Boy
Amelie Poulain Soundtrack - Comptine D'un Autre Été: L'après Midi


In other news- The One That Got Away (dunno if I've mentioned him, ever?) offered me a free ticket to Sarah Blasko tommorrow. Gah! I am going to a different gig with a friend and AFL, and now I am all torn and confused! (Although, my libido, which is resting today, assures me that AFL is the better choice.) Anyway, I was second choice for the Sarah Blasko ticket- 'Do you want to go if this other person I invited doesn't?' That's crap.

The next month will be an awesome one for gigs- there's this one tommorrow, The Infadels next week, TZU the week after, and Dubdoubt and The Vasco Era. Woohoo live music.

I need to take some more pictures.

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So I'm still up...

....and, surprise surprise, blogging!

Hello world!

Things are good, I'm just bored and not tired. Give it twenty minutes for the meds to kick in and I will feel absolutely exhausted, but still be manic, so unable to sleep. (Yes, it's really as fantastic as it sounds.)

I am totally, completely, irretrievably in love with Damien Rice's new single, 9 Crimes... you guys should check it out- album releases on November 6 in the UK, not sure when here.

"Leave me out with the waste,
This is not what I do,
It's the wrong kind of place
To be thinking of you,
It's the wrong time
For somebody new,
It's a small crime,
And I've got no excuse...
And is that alright, yeah?"

Beautiful... there's more of course, but I won't bug you with my obsession with good lyrics. This song is more about the sound of the vocals and the melody anyway.

I get lots of medical tests tommorrow, yay! I'm getting a sexual health test (just to make sure everything's okay downstairs) and also a test for a UTI (urinary tract infection) and another test to make sure the medication I just started, Epilim, isn't trashing my liver. That means I get to pee into TWO tiny little cups. Awesome kiddies, I tells ya.

Anyway, I shall take myself off to bed now, the meds are starting to hit.

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PS. The new boy messaged, yay! Girl's gonna get some!

'Love is not a victory march, it's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah...'

Today I've been thinking a lot. (I know, you guys are like, so totally shocked!) About all sorts of things, many of them not solid or cohesive enough to turn into their own blog post. At least, not just yet. Musings on my relationship and all that. You all know how fucked up you get after you break up with someone- in some ways I think it's worse being the dumper, because then there's always the tempting and torturous possibility of changing your mind.

As though changing my mind would fix something, as though just the act of breaking up could have somehow changed our relationship, changed all the problems- erased all those times when I spoke to him, needing something, and not getting it, whatever it was. I don't really understand it myself. Things just weren't there. It feels horrible- I've never had someone try so hard for me, give everything they had just to please me like that. For it still to not be enough makes me hurt so much.

I don't know if I could go back, go to him and say 'I'm sorry, I've changed my mind- can we go back to the way things were?' and hope that he would take me back. Mostly because while I want him back, I don't want to go back to the way things were- things were difficult, and I spent most of my time, especially when I wasn't with him, torturing myself for not feeling the way I wanted to- about our relationship, about him. And it was horrible. As much as he was the sweetest boy, and caring and giving...god, he gave so much to me, it just wasn't enough. I don't know why... all that time I spent trying to make myself love him. I know, it seems so stupid now- you can't make yourself love someone, no matter how much you want to, no matter how much they might deserve it. I guess you especially can't love someone just because they love you. How different would the world be if you could?

To think all this musing started from some boy's smile on TV. His smile reminded me of the boy somehow, in some way, and I started thinking about how my early relationships have shaped (and are shaping) the kind of boy I'm attracted to. That little smile he had...I don't know what it was about it, just something. Some feeling, some association I made- that little smile makes me think of the good things- when he was giving, and sweet and forgiving and a soft place to fall. I still want that quality in someone else, and I've pegged it to the visual of that little, slyly subtle mousey smile. Crazy, I know.


I've been trying to reclaim my music today, too- some songs that I sort of associated with the boy, listening to them and ignoring the pain, trying to make them -mine- again. They were mine once, and I want them back. Some really sweet powerful songs- like Matis Yahu's "King Without a Crown" and other sillier ones like Wiseacre's "Girl With a Hole In Her Pants"... actually probably neither of those songs were ever just mine, since I discovered them while I was with the boy. But I want them to be mine now. It's hard though, King Without a Crown, while it dragged me out of some (of the many) deep holes I'd gotten into, making me hopeful and optimistic, is still mostly associated with the times I listened to it with the boy- in front of the computer, turned up loud, my back pressed against his chest, his arms around my waist- swaying gently and singing along. Him in that silly whispery little voice of his.

Wiseacre's memories are a bit less silly, even though the songs aren't- it was the first gig we went to together (while we were together, anyway, we both went to The Herd separately before we were going out, and met up with mutual friends there) and even though I was expecting to have a miserable time (because I was miserable) it was fantastic- we danced and cuddled and it filled me with hope and optimism for us- the belief that yes, I could feel the way I wanted, if I really wanted.

I think one of the scariest things at the moment is the possibility that the only reason I didn't love him was because of my anxiety/depression, rather than him just being someone I couldn't love. I am really scared of that, because if it's true then it means I might never fall in love with someone I can actually have. It might sound ridiculous, but it seems very real to me- was it just 'not right' or did I just cut myself off from my feelings somehow, unconciously, because I was too scared?

At first, the first night we met, and our first date (non-official) things were fantastic, the feelings were all there and right and stuff- it wasn't til I had the freak out on that weekend that I stopped having feelings for him. At least I think so- but it's a chicken/egg question, really- did I stop having the feelings cause I freaked out, or did I freak out because I stopped having the feelings? I always felt like it was the second one, but shrinks and friends all reckon that maybe the anxiety and the depression started first, and made me not feel, I tried very hard to believe them- thinking that once I got done being depressed/anxious I would like/love him again.

I don't know. I know that getting to know someone better, and maybe deciding they aren't who you thought they were is just part of the process. But it all seemed so sudden- although I got a bit stressed out at him (while drunk) on the friday night before our date, about some Suicidegirls thing (I stressed that I wasn't 'alternative' enough for him) things were okay then, and then suddenly saturday WHAMMO while talking to him, I start feeling like I'm humouring him, and I don't want to be humouring him- I want to find him interesting and fascinating, especially on our second bloody date, so I freak out. He's really sweet about it. And seven (nearly eight) months later, here I am, trying to figure out the same problem that plagued me from the start. I don't want this relationship to be something that I will always not quite understand, you know? Was he just 'not right' for me? Was it just that I didn't like him? Or did I really feel for him, and somehow un-conciously drive those feelings away?

I'm so lost and scared right now, and rambling, so that's it.

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