Love's Naloxone Or Taking the Anti-love pill. Part Twenty Three: Don't You Want Somebody to Love

This year marks a decade since I've been celibate.

HA.....I wonder if my High School English teacher would be proud knowing I can finally figure out a topic sentence. Sorry, I'm not in my cups and I have to find the ways to cut to the bone and get to what I want to say. Therapy works and I am a lot more open, but I still find it difficult to talk about heavy topics in our small little gathering. Ok, more like I need to sort out some thoughts to function tomorrow and I haven't been stretching my literary mind as much as I would have liked.

So I'm doing this. Or at least trying. Please have mercy and patience with me, I don't have my old defenses and its hard talking about this. So back to this.

It's now a decade. To say that I don't miss sex would be a lie since this is the most popular question on I get when people outside of WHY. As much as I hate to admit it I am not made of steel and I have the same biological urges that most humans have. And yet as loaded as the question is, I never had an issue with sex. Fucking is not that complicated and its almost easy by the numbers if you can find the willingness to take part in whatever engagement you want. I mean, it's almost as simple as filling out a form and stating what you want, how you want it and how you want it to end.

Sex was never an issue, but contrary to popular belief, I don't like feeling empty. And in my time I come to learn that empty sex is kind of like a protein shake satisfying and has a purpose, but it doesn't fill you up as having something that makes you happy. In truth its never been the function that got me, but how I usually felt afterward. I am a softy. Or old-fashioned. Or to be blunt not lust driven. I learned that when in my young days I've come up with a composite of who I am attracted to and I can state that I have never met her. Everyone who I have had any relations with does not fit the bill enough to say without outliers that I am someone who is more attracted to who you are than what you look like.

I like people. No, I will be honest, I love people. I honestly do, but much like soy, grapes, and milk no matter how much I would adore them, they have a way of making me feel miserable even to the point of death. I tried. Some would say that I was really an optimist who has been torn asunder into a pessimist. An overt attention seeker who has become introverted due to a woman ripping me apart.

Partly true.

I'm kind of tired so I'll just cut to the fucking bone and get on with it.

I don't have the best track record with women. Whoever's theory it is there is much substance there, although the stories are never straight. I'm not gay, bi or poly. If truth be told, I'm rather old-fashioned and like to be committed. I never cheated or played with the hearts of others and I was never down with opp. *Ha....I am old!*

And yet, if I told people what my main issue is, its trust. I don't trust anyone and with my time on with Crazy Doc, I have to say that I am open to being defenseless if I finally know that people can not hurt me. I can be open if I know I won't be torn apart and used. In my time I can say that I have gotten my life out of the jaws of depression and actually discover my life IS livable. A huge change from survival and fighting the Big Black Dog. Crazy Doc even thinks I can deal with being intimate with others and right there and then, I hit the brakes and say no.

But why......why no to that idea...why not be open to being loved and loving back without fear of being .....I don't know....hurt....miserably hurt. Well, I'm kind of there at the crossroads and I wonder why I would or would not. Why I would try and why I would cringe once more and make it a solid twenty years. I mean why would I have an issue with being touched. Why would I have to pull back and not flirt with others or simply take the offers of sex from the happy willing?

.....

If I have to say, I have been the fucking block. I am the block and you all go around me. I may not be as sexually adventurous as most would think, but I don't have much reason anymore. If I can state what my life was all those years ago, it would have to be chaotic. Ever meet those people that are just pure train wreck. I mean, I'm not going to say I traveled the easy path of life, but I will say that I have never been scared of a challenge. It's just now that I am learning that life shouldn't be so hard. That it's not always filled with pain, drive, and adrenaline. I once told a friend that I would never have the white picket fence in my life and its not because I never wanted it. I like the idea of monogamy with joy and happiness and no hint of wretched agony. I would love the idea of sharing the bed with someone who I don't have to worry about hurting me while I sleep. I think that would be nifty.

Just not real. Or at least for me.

Mind you I have done a lot of cleaning house with my mind and I am healthier than before, but some survival actions cannot be undone no matter how I would want them to. To survive as a single father struggling along with so much opposition and miserably few sanctuaries to rest my head I had to give up alot. I am not allowed chaos in my life in the form of a relationship when I have volatile people who need me most. I am not that selfish. That and I learned that just to prevent my children to go without I had to make choices to ensure their happiness and not mine. Is it right? No. But no matter how I want something, they always came first and dad had to be on it even if it means not touching another human being outside of aid and kindness.

Few people have comforted me and usually against why wishes when I was too numb to feel. Nothing more than a tight hug and a whisper that I matter. Never believed it then, but I am trying to believe it now. Either way, it still chokes me up knowing that someone saw how hard it was and understood. Yet, anything more is just.....phantom. I say phantom because it hints that its there, but I know it isn't. There are moments where biology betrays me. I will even say its kind of a welcomed sigh of relief knowing that I am not dead down there and few individuals have aroused me in ways that remind me of my early twenties. I mean that's nice, but a fast heartbeat, flustered speech and a hard-on of steel are not enough.

I met amazing people, but I know that whatever I locked away is still there and even if I feel attracted to someone it doesn't mean anything. I never had an issue getting aroused. I have issues with trust. Much like a tourniquet wound, it doesn't mean that everything is going to be alright. Most of you have tried. You either reached out, set me up *as if I am too stupid to notice*, and even cut to the fucking bone. Yet I can say out of the train wrecks of relationships I have been in, only a miserable few on a hand with spare fingers can count the functional relationships I have had. I'm going on a limb here and say that's not enough.

If anything I have made women despise me in one way or another. Maybe it was them. I'm going to say a lot of it was me, now knowing what I just created boundaries. And yet, can old dogs learn new things and make things better or perhaps my issues are not enough. I am not a believer in the Disney happy ending. That shit is not real and I will go to my grave telling people no one is that loving to work with another persons crazy. Fucking period.

And yet, I have sad haunting moments that happen and all I can do is know they happened and move on. Can Crazy Doc help me here......who knows....can I get things fixed to be functional enough to be happy....*shrugs*.....will I be ok.....I don't know. I honestly don't know. I just know I'm having a hard enough time not dying and trying to rebuild what most of you take for granted.

I'm trying, but even I don't believe I can be happy. Sorry, my track record is just that crappy. My outliers are the best moments of my life and they are hard and bitter still. Hope is too expensive for me and being told people love me is like telling slugs there was life on Mars. Its lost on me and all I will do is not believe and recoil away. I don't even have an idea what I look like or how I am worth attention.
I'm wrestling with the concept of not being in pain and living rather than existing. If anything my curse is living past the age where my legend would be sung and my memory not disparaged by reality.

I would love to be loved, but I don't know what that is without pain. It's nice, but I can not afford fairy tales. Life has taken too much. My body is intuned to numbness or quick reaction to when shit hits fans.

....

I don't have any way ending this to make you feel good.

Sorry.

Why Explain when you can have Squid? or What are you, a reporter?

Been some time since I've sat down and written. Its often time a difficult thing starting again. Sometimes the investment in getting things running is just as exhaustive as simply drowning in your thoughts. That and the strong compelling desire to share all the things is often a daunting task that I'd rather not take.

It's almost like building a sandcastle on the beach and not knowing where to stop. There's always something to add and more to go into. And yet I do have the urge to at least attempt to share something I've been chewing on for the past three or four months, but having to catch you up is much time as loaded as just saying that everything is fine. It's all fine. If you know me well, its just fine is my sad attempt at lying.

So yea. Already into my third paragraph and I still have to focus on a topic or at least a train of thought to steer this piece towards. And once more I'm overwhelmed in a where do I start moment that has me almost loading infinite thoughts in my head causing me to lag at where to start and where to elaborate. So I sneak into it as I am doing now and simply saunter by hoping that you do not question me on anything deeper than me just showing up at your doorstep with no idea where I've been with plenty of squid under each arm. I mean you can question why is this a thing or you can just prep the butter and wine sauce as I slice thick steaks of magnificence.

I mean, come on.... its me. Chances are after this point I may not be back for a long time. I mean, why complicate and make it harder by for me to come back. And with some time.....a long and long time, I can get comfortable enough on how returning a muffin got me on into the much epicness that caused me to think of you and wine butter sauce.

I mean, I did bring squid. Isn't that enough?

And see, somehow I created a false sense of normalcy and we are all still friends here while we enjoy our squid that I can sigh enough and relax and take off my slicker....did I mention I had one on....uh huh.....I did....and you can see the several eels attached to my back. See, I can explain this. And you are more than welcome to ask why I have them there and simply stating that they were mad at something or another and they simply refuse to let it go and on the good side, we have eel. Eels make dragon rolls. I mean, who doesn't like dragon rolls.

And you have your answers, just not the ones you were hoping for and yet you know that they will come. And why I have to keep moving at times since greenpeace honestly frown upon punching dolphins even though they fucking deserve it. And yet, we are having squid and we are enjoying our time together and I am not burdened with the task of having to explain everything. And I can work on the hardest part which is simply returning and sharing on a consistent schedule once again without letting the world take me away from you. Because sometimes its difficult just trying to get back. Harder with even explaining where I've been.

So yea.....hi. I'm backish.

579 words.