A conflict still rages within me. After everything, it still plagues me. I need to wait for sex. But I also need it.
Emotionally I hold off. But physically, I pursue it (even though I’m not finding it these days).
When I go out there in the social, or inter-personal, world, I get so scared. I back off. Better safe and protected than hurt.
But… at some point I return to the need. The great need for sexual interaction. Or rather, it returns to me.
I can not throw it off.
It hurts so much. Oh, it hurts so much. What’s wrong with me? How have I gotten so messed up? Why is the world like this?
Why?
The light blue neon outline of a large coffee cup with white neon steam swirling up from it sits, forlorn… or beckoning… in the front window of the café. “Move On Up” plays over the speakers, over the hexagon-tiled floor, white with green-brown snowflakes. A couple walks in, a tall, thin man and shorter, thin woman, but walk out again after she takes out her cell phone. A moment later they’re back, heading over to the counter, where he puts his hand on her neck and shoulder. A moment later, she leads him by the hand across the tiled floor and out the door, where they walk around the corner. An old-style Pac-Man game sits on a squat black, wooden platform by the door— 25 cents still; next to it, a brown Raleigh bike with red-taped drop-down handlebars rests at an angle against a rack of free weekly newspapers and a brown Seeburg Select-o-matic 100 jukebox, which seems to have actual small records within its glass casing. A woman sits at a counter at the front window, another at a tall, but small table next to the wall, and a few more people maybe in their 20 or early 30’s, each in front of a laptop, further down the room. Wooden-slat ceiling fans turn at various speeds, throwing shadows around and around against the upper walls and ceiling. Two of those sitting with laptops, a guy and a girl, get up from their table and walk out the front door, the sky outside fading slowly to a dark blue.
I wonder what it’s like to have a girlfriend.
Do you always have to spend time with the person? What if you just need time to yourself?
How long does it take until you can just be yourself?
Are some people just not wired for a romantic relationship?
Are there any relationships where one person truly listens to the other?
Emotionally I hold off. But physically, I pursue it (even though I’m not finding it these days).
When I go out there in the social, or inter-personal, world, I get so scared. I back off. Better safe and protected than hurt.
But… at some point I return to the need. The great need for sexual interaction. Or rather, it returns to me.
I can not throw it off.
It hurts so much. Oh, it hurts so much. What’s wrong with me? How have I gotten so messed up? Why is the world like this?
Why?
The light blue neon outline of a large coffee cup with white neon steam swirling up from it sits, forlorn… or beckoning… in the front window of the café. “Move On Up” plays over the speakers, over the hexagon-tiled floor, white with green-brown snowflakes. A couple walks in, a tall, thin man and shorter, thin woman, but walk out again after she takes out her cell phone. A moment later they’re back, heading over to the counter, where he puts his hand on her neck and shoulder. A moment later, she leads him by the hand across the tiled floor and out the door, where they walk around the corner. An old-style Pac-Man game sits on a squat black, wooden platform by the door— 25 cents still; next to it, a brown Raleigh bike with red-taped drop-down handlebars rests at an angle against a rack of free weekly newspapers and a brown Seeburg Select-o-matic 100 jukebox, which seems to have actual small records within its glass casing. A woman sits at a counter at the front window, another at a tall, but small table next to the wall, and a few more people maybe in their 20 or early 30’s, each in front of a laptop, further down the room. Wooden-slat ceiling fans turn at various speeds, throwing shadows around and around against the upper walls and ceiling. Two of those sitting with laptops, a guy and a girl, get up from their table and walk out the front door, the sky outside fading slowly to a dark blue.
I wonder what it’s like to have a girlfriend.
Do you always have to spend time with the person? What if you just need time to yourself?
How long does it take until you can just be yourself?
Are some people just not wired for a romantic relationship?
Are there any relationships where one person truly listens to the other?
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