Between Sleeping and Waking Lies Heartache

Sex has become boring. Or maybe I’ve become a bad lay. Or maybe I’m hooking up with people that just aren’t doing it for me. It all seems labored and empty.

I think it’s in his kiss.

The lack of kissing is probably the problem. I know it’s better when there is kissing involved. I also need to knock off this wearing a blindfold shit. I think I might be an intimacy junkie.

I had a recent revelation. I used to do a lot of theatre, moving from show to show to show as quickly as possible. As soon as I was cast in one, I was looking for my next fix. I’ve come to the conclusion that I behaved this way because to stop or have a pause, I might have to examine some of my behaviors and failures. I have stopped. I no longer do theatre. Now, in the wee hours of the morning, between waking and sleeping, or just as I am about to drop off to sleep at night – I am pestered by those failures of yesterday. Situations where I failed to make good choices, behaved badly or was subject to bad behavior on the part of others. I beat myself up with these moments from the past. They now haunt me because I have nothing to distract me from them. It’s like pausing while running from wolves – you stop and they seize upon you.

I don’t revel in my past successes. I celebrated them when they happened, but they haven’t retained their power; not the way my failures have.

So, am I moving from sexual situation to sexual for the same reason? Is there something that I don’t want to look at too closely.

Possibly.

I can think of several impending responsibilities – inevitabilities built into my future that I don’t want to think about to much in the present. I get overwhelmed by them. I’m much better dealing with a crisis in the moment. The anticipation of potential crisis? Waste of my time and energy. And it eats me up.

And… I miss my best friend. I hate that I even have to write that. I shouldn’t miss him. I think he’s being a dink - but that is his choice.

My best friend of 20 years stopped talking to me five years ago. No explanation. He just stopped answering emails.

Prior to his silence, I had visited him at his new digs in a new city. We had a good time. And we fought. We always fight – like Martha and George in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf?. This time it had to do with his former meth addiction and how I felt he was not taking responsibility for his past behavior. I criticized a friend of his, because he was a meth head and put my friend in all sorts of dangerous situations. My friend was in a relationship with a meth head – this meth head via the relationship introduced my friend to meth and that became the basis of their relationship. I may have said something about that not being something to base a relationship on and perhaps that this man was not the love of his life. I accused him of pissing away his parent’s hard earned money, money he had inherited. I might of called him self-absorbed and selfish. I may have also called his years and years and years of therapy as a waste of time and money and another example of how self-absorbed and wasteful he was. It is in a therapists financial interest to keep you coming back for more. So, subconsciously or consciously, they will do what they need to do to keep you coming to their office.

I also may have fucked this guy he had the hots for. My friend had the hots for lots of guys, but rarely acted on it. So it was with this guy. So, during my visit, when this guy hit on me, I asked my friend if it was okay if I fucked around with him. My friend said sure. I think it was a set-up. I think he said yes, but meant no – so that he then had an excuse not to talk to me. He could cast me as the villain. He likes to do that.

So it’s my fault. I was too honest. I said things I shouldn’t have said. I fucked that guy when I should have known better. My friend dumped his last best friend for fucking around with a guy my friend told his former friend that he liked. Any time we talked about his previous best friend, I heard the story. So, subconsciously, did I want to piss my friend off so that he would end our friendship?

Possibly.

I think I’m changing – again. My personality goes through these periods of gestation and then birth some new version of me. This latest version is a lot more grounded, and less likely to make really bad choices. Some would say this latest version is boring and not much fun. Maybe it is age. Maybe it is due to circumstances. Maybe I’m just tired.

I’m in the best shape. Seriously, people comment on my arms and body. Someone told me I was ripped (I’m not, but I am in great shape). I work very hard at it. For various reasons, not the least of which is my overall longevity and health.

But in the meantime… sex is boring me.

Maybe I need a new hobby.