Goodbye Naughtsworthiness, aka “I’ve Risen and I Can’t Fall Down!” (At least not often.)

Excepting the occasional ‘panging’, lasting a minute or three at most, no one is gonna see much posted here after this…

Five years was long enough to pine over the only guy I ever loved for whole and real, which had a lot to do with the fucking death certificate for this thing called Mondeek made from 2 people, me and him, with convenient consonant sounds at the end of my name, and start of his. Grew to no need or fulfilment on his end, it was too exaggerated on mine, thus there was no game, not one challenge in earning love.  If I had only not JUST focused on him.  (But no one else appealed, not with THAT around me!

I still miss the funny words he would make up. Like ‘hypobole’, the opposite of hyperbole (exaggeration) - ergo, ‘hypobole’ would be like saying “It’s a little warm out” when it’s 108 degrees…

I still miss fleeming. So much, man. Means falling into the scent of long hair. (That was one of MY neologisms.)

I’ve found things that helped me - big-deal help that came from friends. Silly help from my own ridiculous yet useful idiosyncrasies.

All this has made it much easier to spend occasional ten-twenty minute stretches with him just as friends…and manage to not freak out while talking to his nowadays-true-love girl of my used-to-be-true-love guy.

Too long and my slowly re-rooting, re-sprouting emotions (I ripped out the old roots and leaves and flowers of feelings five years ago so that instead of feeling constant pain I’d feel constant nothingness—or rather, not feel at all, which turned out to be a huge mistake) would break off leaving dead stems between the ones that were a bit stronger - or else, the system that nurtures them would break or malf in some dumb but thankfully temporary way. But if it’s something like a 5 minute hello, I’m good…

It has been five years since he broke up with me, but those years before 1996, when he was underage and I was a regular poster to his BBS in the days when the net was little more than AOL and Yahoo gave me the context that stuck me in love with him, unfortunately probably forever. 

He built himself, empowered himself, for me.  I watched it happen over a period of about 2 years, half of which we spent as friends who’d not seemed like we could’ve ever gotten together.

Then he did some amazing things that I thought no one, not even a wild-minded eighteen year old! could do. Cute boys are appreciated as ripenesses by females every bit as cute girls are by guys, after all, and yet I was expecting him to act as I did at that age. Clumsy, unable to find things, insecure…but he just erased it all and became powerful almost overnight.

Part of him, of course, missed being able to wild-oat sow and I felt terrible about it since I’d done plenty of that in my youth. So we called ourselves polyamorous and I said you can fuck around, just use the condom, and I’ll not freak out or break up over it.

But something went wrong: a ten year emotionally monogamous polyamory-positive couple is not a couple that is doing what both members want. 

Age difference be damned, though likely responsible in part, he could’ve done those things he wanted to do but my emotional attachment to him made him feel uncomfortable about doing them. So he ended up feeling growing annoyance with me for feeling - as a 37 year old would - less like hanging out at parties, conventions, etc.  with really young adventurous girls I knew were always gonna out-attract me. If he’d just been cute, smart and basically normal, I wouldn’t have been so freaking attached to him, but his home schooling non-Christian upbringing - a REALLY rare thing - made him a very intelligent, energetic person who, in our good times, did things NO other guys I’d ever known could do.  And I began to realise if he met someone more energetic and cute than me, I’d lose him in a flash.

That’s always the death knell.  My options grew fewer, his increased, so instead of a power balance which we had in 1996, I needed him, while he merely enjoyed me but was constantly looking for The True Love.  This is something I began to notice, and at first said nothing about, but my emotional happiness began to become pathologically externalized - and so while I’d tell him “you can”, the things I did and said to people communicated “He’s mine, go away, or please don’t run away with him if you do play…PLEASE!” As time went on, that “please” became pleading and needy.

Oh, the things we would do if we could go back in time.  But I do not think even if I’d managed to balance this behaviour, it would have saved the Us we had.  Because I was in love with him, while he…loved me, cared about me, enjoyed my company, but soon it became clear he was not IN love with me any more.  I was conquered.  No more challenge.  And confusing him with my mixed message of Free/Not Free must have been absolute Hell to deal with.

Unfortunately, he was raised by a mother who avoided confrontation with people she liked at ridiculous cost and trouble.  He came by his silence honestly, but he still never really clued me in that things were as bad as they were for him.  It was not ALL my fault…but I did more damage than him.  If he’d only been less silent and half-truthy.  I trusted him completely because he was a rare example of someone who just did not lie to me about things like all my prior lovers, but he’d passively lie by withholding truth, which I found was even worse than lies.  At least those are easy to yell about.  This was impossible to decipher.

But it was my emotional/sexual neediness, and complete disinterest in other lovers (who never did the wondrous things he alone was capable of, so they were blank stone to me…) that did us in.

I’m sorry I loved you to blarghsville, Deek: and I don’t blame you for anything but not telling me more and sooner.  You thought I was gonna end up suicidal, but think about the shit I priorly survived. 

It was an excuse not to deal with it; you could never deal with things once they were brought up and said.  Then it was me doing all the talking about feelings.

I hate that I became That Person, it does not match the rest of me!  

So I forgive you your crap and your girlfriend’s crap that she needed, I guess, to say and do to make it clear to me, when others were not doing so.

I feel every one of these things with all my head and heart and heat. Most of all and more than each and all of them together, though…I am feeling glad it’s…over. 

That Naughtsworth-on-Fallenzone, a small part of the looped desert fallout-strewn prison/asylum complex I thought of as Nullworld, had a way out and that it got found when I stopped looking all over the damn place for it.

I am hoping you remember this if you ever end up having an emotionectomy and wind up in a place resembling this…it will help, but you have to know and believe in the way through.

First knowing happens, then belief, and only when trying to believe it ends in total, accepting surrender to just doing the best you can while stuck in such a zone of experience do you begin to fade out of there and back to…

……….

              …………

                             …………………… something like life, or half-life, at least, again.

You pass through and end up back here again, no longer in love. But will I ever be able to love anyone else? Unfortunately, owing to my age, and to the total satisfaction I had in him, the chances are slim.  I chose finally to stop telling myself it was obviously impossible all the time, and start at least trying to meet people even if only as friends…However, it’s also vitally important to maintain one ‘negative’ sounding attitude about future love, and that is this:

Bugger-all whether I ever end up being in it again.  It happens? Great.  Keep it casual and fun, keep the emotions to absolute minimum, maybe I’ll have a few laughs as they say, if I can find someone as weird as I am who doesn’t hate women who are not young.

But I have to also keep the attitude of: If it doesn’t happen, BFD.  It will mean no more shit from breakup - or the chance of attaching myself to someone who’s mind is ugly as my body can sometimes be, filled with anger and likely to do things like hit, or at best, grow weary of me quickly. I could do without that forever, thank you VERY much.

Ergo, I have Equanimity. Not total, there’s no such thing…but close enough.

So glad I found it, as it is the ONE state approaching the perfection life shows us is nonexistent; there does have to be a ‘closest to perfect, but possible’ state, and it is called Equanimity

.

It won’t be easy to lose something this hard won and important, so I don’t actually seem to even have a neurosis about losing it,  it would just return when I remembered…what I did not used to know when I’d truly never been there where I’d been.

Now, it’s all navigated. Being lost again’s not impossible, just less probable, and for FAR shorter times, now.

I do have my memories of the gorgeous 18 year old lover with the mind of a person thrice that age and the perfect body and hair to match.  There was a year when it seemed nothing could end the love and the sex, and from now on, if I start hurting, I will turn my mind to 1996, and make it MINE…no one can take that from me, no girl, no grief, not even the curse of female aging.  1996 is mine.

That, I get to keep. If Deek wants to keep it to, I’ll gladly share that, but he seems too busy to care much so I’ll break off a piece and put it in a box, and just call it his…and leave it in my memory palace’s dead letter office.

Maybe one day I’ll look, and he’ll have silently taken it, and you can bet I’ll never speak of it or write of it to anyone - especially him.

Love,

DMT

Three Laibach Songs, Translated to English

Panging

When it happens now it only lasts 5 minutes, is not usually recurring and is cureable by Cat Sitting on me.