Him.

Oh, Blogger. Never thought you'd be here to know these things. Remember when it was all about that young one who didn't seem to understand what he was doing? Well, because it's been awhile and now he's 'gay married' (his friend's words, not mine) and in an 'open relationship' (again, not my words) I have moved on, too. And as usual, my life does not stop being, as they say on Facebook, complicated. But it's another kind of complicated. I'd say complex, but it does have some level of complication, if we stick to the truth and to the conventional definition of complicated. Yes, it's not what you'd think 'normal', in the sense that you date and you go out, and you decide you want to stick to one guy and you eventually decide if you want to move in with him and all that jazz. This time we still do the dating. As in we go out. And we still decided we wanted to stick to each other, but it's been with our own conditions. Because this is not ordinary romance. It is romantic, though. With butterflies in the stomach, and long walks hand in hand and crazy lunch escapades. And weekends of smiles and laughs and sex. But there's weeks of long texts and short conversations and that desire to see him that makes me understand that he's special. He's special. In many ways. Not only because he makes me feel like there's life in me but because he feels alive in the same way I feel alive. Vibrant, urgent, silly, sexy. It may not lead to Ikea trips and shared bath towels but it does give respite to a living that seemed condemned to suburban despair. And that's where I am now. Sharing a life in quarters. Breathing the air he gives. Living.

So then....

I know. It's been forever. But I've been dedicating most of my time to tumblr and man is he a demanding lover. The thing about tumblr is that instead of reading my -sometimes turbulent- prose, you just get a visualization of my stream of consciousness. But some things do need to be put in black and white. Like the fact that I let a man I'm interested in read this blog and my tumblr. Yep. No stonewalling. No shy, lame attempts to pretend he has to know what I'm thinking. Most of the time, he knows for sure. And I have to say the feeling is liberating. It's like taking off soaking wet clothes. Sometimes with him I feel more naked than nude. He knows my body, but this goes beyond that, beyond the nakedness of the skin. When he looks at me, I feel he sees me. The me who needs him, the me who fears things, the me who's insecure, the me who's silly. All those parts of me that make me whole. And it feels good. Disclosing who you are is more liberating than telling someone you don't like apples or cooking or listening to Black Sabbath. Disclosing who you are has nothing to do with what you do but with what you want and need. And I have come to realize that I want and need him. And he has told me he wants and needs me. So I guess we're a good match. Complications be damned. I'll live in the today. Tomorrow can wait.

and the beat goes on.

Well, another year. Another entry on this blog. And I also know that when we talk about ourselves we tend to be complacent. And blur the facts. But we all do it nonetheless. So this year has been eventful. Not like every one of my years is not eventful. I live in this kind of alternate universe in which everything seems shrouded with fucking drama.
So I had my ups and downs, living in another city, surrounded by putative family and working and staying in constant movement. I have realized that I am always moving. Whether literally or figuratively, I'm always on the move. And then everything stopped. I had to stop working for a few months and then I realized I need to be doing something constantly.
Funny, how you yearn for a snow day, for some down time, for waking up later. And then you have it and you come to understand that you really need to feel useful, to be doing something productive. So I did baby-sitting and small errands. And painted walls, and learned new things. And relaxed a little and tried to stay active.
And now I'm back on track. I have a new job and what I hope is a new attitude. I know my life has not settled, that I still have loose ends an unfinished business and things to do and worry about. Because I have realized that life does not get comfortable, just more ... livable. And that I have to learn to do is to learn how to live that new aspect of life I'm hitting, to work with what I've got.
So even though I don't do New Year lists, I think I'm going to try and worry less, love more and live better. So there. That's about it. So see you soon and hope your New Year is awesome. Because as L'Oreal says, you're worth it.

Love. Learn. Live.

xoxo

not everything that shines...

Ok, so this is how it goes: I lack passion. I'm passionate, but passion does not become me. I basically live a very passionless life. There's affection and love, but no passion. It's like everything about me screams about sexy infatuations and double entendres. But I don't feel it. Or enjoy it. Or share it. Most men my age go through what people usually call 'dry spells' in what concerns sex and relationships. They go from some weeks to some months. The spell has lasted years for me. And I don't know if I actually miss sex. Go figure.

I think I will revise that statement sometime soon. Because those who 'know' me would think 'what the fuck?' if they read this. Maybe an explanation is needed. For them and for myself. Because the problem is that I have not questioned my involvement in all this. Because it takes two to tango. Or not.

xoxox