I don’t know how to get what I want.
Last night was a disaster, and not in a fun way. I felt gross. Maybe it’s because this karaoke night sometimes attracts more straight people, and I spent last weekend surrounded by queers.
I appreciate the look but not touching at queer events, the eye contact, and the lead-up to dancing. The silent questions. When very clearly straight men do this, I feel gross. Like a side of meat.
It wasn't sexuality I could own by myself. It wasn’t one I openly consented to and that is something that took away my power. When I talked to my friend earlier this morning, I brought up the clubs I would go to with my sister.
“It’s like, they assume there is some blanket consent once you get on the dance floor. It’s always an approach from behind too, so you’re also being taken by surprise, without the initial way to reject them like avoiding their gaze.”
I didn’t feel empowered, I just felt adrift. Going out wasn’t making me happy, so I tried relaxing instead. I went back to things that made me happy when I was younger, like reading fanfiction. The pairing of Kylo Ren and Rey is obviously toxic (don’t come for me), but it’s one of my favorite tropes: Moody, distant, brooding hot person is actually desperately in love and trying everything not to admit it. Also, a little mean.
The first time I was attacted to a mean person was the actor who played House on the show with the same name. I can’t belive I’m writing this but the idea of a grumpy person with a soft spot was always my thing. I think it’s enjoyable to read about becuse you see that person’s true heart on the page or on the screen. In real life, if someone is mean to me, my hypervigilance kicks in and I want to end their life for them.
I think I am just craving ease. I am stunningly broke while I wait to be paid from a writing gig. I spent over $300 on rideshare last month and realized how ridiculous that is. I could own a car for that, but driving makes me anxious. (and I’ve realized I really really need to go to the optometrist before I get behind the wheel of a car).
Not having money means that the little things that bring me peace, like sitting in a coffee shop for hours while I read or look at potential houses or write, aren’t available to me. When I’m stressed, my shitty approach to money comes to the forefront. I’m happy for a week away in Florida where I won’t be spending too much of my money, but I am also dreading it.
My partner insisted that I still come since it was already paid for. The thought of a week alone with Biscuit seemed like a lot, so I agreed. Once we figured out we would try to make things work long distance or just living apart, my fate was sealed. I feel shitty for dreading this trip, but I don’t want to even be around my own family for a week straight. Even if there is free booze (I hope). It feels hollow and fake. It’s a trip for a family and I am constantly refreshing zillow and craigslist. I don’t know how I am going to protect myself and my energy. I could still say I don’t want to go, ask a friend to spend thanksgiving with them, but I also want us to have one more nice memory.
Maybe I’ll go for long walks after everyone is asleep to recharge. I like the thought of being alone in this way: repsonsibilities removed for a while.
I’m just craving softness and queer company, but I’m exhausted of the idea of meeting anyone new. I want to be left alone but also paid attention to. I think I just want to be held and kissed softly, and to not have to make any decisions.
I just want and want and want.
