• Dammit…TLDR

    by  • February 13, 2012 • * Safe for Work *, Confusion • 0 Comments

    I just want to get this down and out so I can start thinking about something productive. At least, that’s a part of it. I had to use your computer for something today. I turned on the monitor and sat down, but instead of taking care of what I needed to do, I found myself sifting through photos of nudes. I am sitting and sifting and thinking of so many things. I don’t think I can put them into a coherent order-I have always found that difficult. There are always too many things racing around up in my head. So I’ll just keep going forward.

    Your computer has never been off-limits to me. Whenever I ask if I can hop on it for a second you always tell me that’s a silly thing to ask permission for-that I don’t need to, and I can use it whenever I want. But as I sit and sift through all your nudes, I still feel like I’m invading your privacy. More than anything, I’m having trouble coming to terms with the conflicting emotions inside of me. I don’t have a problem with porn. I believe in people being able to acknowledge desire. I believe in people being able to use their bodies as they see fit, and to have sexual freedom. But I look at these images, and I feel like never letting anyone see me naked again. Mostly, I feel like never letting YOU see me naked again. Thought I don’t resemble these people I see myself in these images, strangely. And I feel disgusting. After sifting, I got up and took a shower. We had taken one together just last night. Usually, I’d wait for you to come home before bathing today, save it for the evening, as is our normal routine. But I don’t feel like being seen or touched. I feel replaceable, and unloved, and sad. I feel like my individuality has been washed away-that it’s irrelevant-that the last five years we have spent together are more a matter of convenience or coincidence. I know I don’t need to feel these things. By brain knows I shouldn’t believe these things- it’s unfair to you, and I’m drawing conclusions with insufficient evidence. But I do feel this way. I don’t know how to feel differently.

    I’m so distracted I just lost the spare keys. I’m sorry.

    I once tried to tell you that I feel jealous when I see porn on your computer. You thought I was jealous because other people are getting laid. I think you thought I was mostly joking. I can understand why. We joke a lot, and it’s no secret I love sex. I love sex much more than you do, and I have a hard time containing myself, not pressuring you into fucking when you don’t feel like it. I never want to do that to anyone. But it makes me feel undesired. I see you have desire-I see the evidence on your computer rather often. And when I see that, and then I think of how you just don’t want to have sex with me that often, it’s hard for me not to think that I’m just not doing it for you.

    I found the spare keys-I had put them away for once…but I did accidentally wash my stress ball. I’m surprised it survived. I also walked by Sandra without saying hello, and now I feel like an asshole. But I don’t feel like talking. I wonder if these scattered moments of mine, my strange mental states, are something you love about me or just deal with. I guess it’s moments like this I wonder what has kept us together. I know what I love about you-I don’t know what you love about me. Maybe that’s why the porn bothers me, among other things. When I ask about these things, you say you wouldn’t stay around if you didn’t like being with me. You say you wouldn’t have stayed around if you didn’t like having sex with me. I know I should believe these things. But somehow, sifting through nudes on your computer has just thrown up this wall inside me. I feel so distant from you right now. I’m glad you aren’t home. I hate that I feel this way. I wonder if you think about me during sex, or if I’m just a body. I wonder if you run your own personal highlight reel. I feel like just a body, looking at all these pictures.

    I know you would say I’m overthinking this. But that’s the thing-I think about things differently than you do. You seem to like things neat, precise, simple, for the most part. I cannot think that way. I can only think deeply. I can only think about things in a convoluted, complex tangle. When I get into an argument with a stranger, I find myself wishing I could just talk to this person, figure out who they are, and make them see me as human, too. Not just as that obnoxious ass they squabbled with at the grocery store over something minor and stupid, but that person who loves the color purple, can’t put down a good book, and hates moving sleeping cats. I find myself breaking my heart over what could have hurt that person to set them off on me over a cart in the aisle of the store, or whatever. Even when I know some people are just different, some people just snap at others, some people just want to impose their views on others, I can’t help it. I think about these things from about 5,000 different angles and I devils-advocate everything. But I’m getting off topic. The point is-my mind, like so many other minds out there, is very strange, and I don’t know how to come to terms with the massive conflict I feel over something like porn. I want to feel comfortable, but I don’t want to be that puritanical person who clutches pearls over sexuality.

    Honestly, I just don’t know what to do. We’re going to have to talk about this. I’m hoping sorting through my thoughts now means a better conversation later. But I think I’m going to make sure I’m out on a walk when you get home. I just need to breathe for a bit

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