How does one navigate and negotiate sexual desires and boundaries? If you are mostly compatible with a guy but he is into certain things you don’t enjoy, how do you talk about it without offending him? Condoms are easy to discuss because the topic has become so mainstream and we grew up with it as part of the conversation. Safe sex, barebacking, now PrEP. They are shown in the profile, as up front and public as someone’s gender, race, sexuality in most contexts. But once you go one level deeper, if someone wants to lick their taint (and refers to it as a “taint,” cognate “tainted”), things quickly become more complicated. Now all of a sudden lines are drawn on what you feel comfortable discussing and doing and what you don’t. This is the negotiation now, the risk is that it can break down and you could lose interest in each other, despite all the other things you have in common. The boredom, loneliness, horniness. Appreciation of hairyness. Chill car rides with scruff. Is this a case of not throwing the baby out with the bath water? Or a deal breaker? A friendship not yet formed. Gelling.
Home. I have travelled around the world searching for a home. In certain cities, with certain people, in certain neighborhoods within the same city. As I take concrete steps to change my home once again, I am struck by how much this place has come to feel like home. I came to feel at home quickly here when I moved in six years ago and it has felt like home ever since. It feels uncomfortable to be taking steps to tear myself away, even if reason tells me it is the right decision. It is not easy to wield power over one’s emotions.
I think the reason I feel so conflicted about this set of atoms, an attachment to physical possessions, is I haven’t strengthened and clearly defined my “why.” I’ve certainly defined it, wrote it out, spoke with three separate people about it already. Despite that, I haven’t quite convinced myself or internalized it. The Why is financial independence, retiring early, creating a six figure passive income. Freedom to go anywhere and do anything whenever I want, without having to report to a job. As nice and necessary as these sound, somehow they’re still not strong enough for me to feel passionate about them. More likely candidates are the fact that my parents are only getting older and brother is only getting crazier. I feel I should be “back home” spending time with them. This is probably the strongest argument for why I should pursue my plan. But even that is debatable whether that overcomes the discomfort that comes with uprooting myself and tossing myself out onto the street in the middle of a pandemic. Ugh, how frustrating. It’s like a no win situation.
Written and Directed by Jacques Demy.( Collapse )
All these years later, I still often think of Br. I wonder what has become of him, what he is doing, whether he ever thinks of me. I have dated guys before and after him, but he’s the one I dated the longest. Probably what I miss the most is the togetherness we shared. At his house on those cold LA nights, or studying together at bookstores and coffee shops. We had similar issues about introducing each other to our parents. We came from different cultures and, perhaps, different classes. Maybe it’s more accurate to say we valued different things. Despite our differences, he was probably the most husband material. Surprising. It goes to show, what they say on TV is husband material (loyal, caring, emotionally intelligent) and what actually is husband material (materialistic, vain, but present) is often quite different in surprising ways. I think it has to do with being yourself. I.e. do you both feel comfortable being yourself around each other, including all your faults, and do you excuse each other’s faults.
My parents and I come from such different worlds.( Collapse )
I am looking forward to my trip to LA next week. It has been too long, about nine months since I’ve been back. It feels like longer because these nine months have been action packed. Central Coast, Las Vegas, Montana, Yellowstone, M’s wedding, Cincinnati, Florida, moving offices, returning to hula, moving on from An. LA is a place where nothing ever happens, or at least it feels that way. Things do happen there like people meeting, going to get dinner, the Oscars, trips to Vegas or San Diego, but somehow these come across as low key non-events, unlike the dramatic things that have been happening in my life in San Francisco. At least, they feel dramatic and high-stakes. That is why I moved to San Francisco after all. Sick of monotonous stasis amidst SoCal chaparral, I wanted to feel the passage of time, not have it slip away unnoticed in sunny utopia. I got what I wished for, but it hasn’t exactly left me satisfied.( Collapse )
I saw a boxer dog today that reminded me of my late grandpa. Similar facial features, saggy jowls, obedient eyes, the way the dog stopped at the corner waiting for the light to change, then did window shopping along the street while walking with his owner, sticking his nose into open doorways.
It turns out my fetish is shopping at Sur La Table.( Collapse )