I have a friend who shares a lot of my psychological profile. We are remarkably similar in a number of ways even though we are definitely separate individuals. He and I have decided that those moments of insane insecurity that consume our brains when we’re dealing with boys are The Crazy. We have both taken to saying “I understand where you’re coming from, but you need to reign in the crazy.” or “Your crazy is out of control.” It acknowledges the basis of the insanity and also says “Please stop before you ruin this.”

Crazy Moment #647 was after World Class Cuddles had left and we texted a bit the next day and then he stopped responding. For three (four?) days I have slowly gotten more depressed and angry and hurt, thinking of ways to force him to reply to me. The worst part was that he left some things at my apartment so I knew eventually he’d have to get back to me. What it comes down to is I had no idea why he wasn’t responding, and my Crazy came out to tell me all the ways I wasn’t smart enough, wasn’t hot enough, was too weird, too awkward, wasn’t tidy enough, that I wasn’t good enough and that I had scared a human being SO BAD that he would abandon PJ pants and DS games at my apartment.

All of which is patently ridiculous, if you objectively review World Class Cuddles’ behaviour. All of which is ridiculous if you objectively look at me. Total nonsense.

But The Crazy? It knows none of this. It just knows the fear.

Cold linoleum floors are awful, but I usually jump right in the shower so it’s no big worry. Last week as I took off my robe and glanced in the mirror I felt an extra chill of..insecurity? Anxiety? A feeling of  being unsafe, unguarded. Vulnerable. It was so hard to pin down because I so rarely feel that way. I haven’t felt that way in a long time, since high school.

The night before this I got home late, about 2 AM from a date. A date that hadn’t gone very well, in my opinion. Particularly after we’d gone back to his place where conversation and making out took place. Good kisser, decent conversation, no particular inspiration to see him again. I have this a lot. Perfectly nice guys, smart, funny, I don’t want them. I have a very specific idea of the kind of treatment I want to receive, and the kinds of thought patterns I want to see evidence for. 

As we were kissing I felt his fingers run through my hair and abruptly my head was pulled back and his hand was curled up, pulling my hair and my head. I was so surprised and stunned that I don’t think I even recognized the fear I felt when he kissed me again.

Standing in my shower stall, clumps of my hair falling from the buzzing blades of my clippers. All I could think about was how I never wanted anyone to grab my head that way again.

Later when I stood up to grab my things he rose and kissed me. And shoved me onto his bed. And lay on top of me. All I could think was “Please stop. Please stop or I’ll hurt you.” When he leaned in to kiss me, I planted my palms on his shoulders and pushed up with all the force I could muster and said “I’m going home now.“

After I got out of the shower and put on my clothes, I realized how close I had come to dismissing it as a bad date. As a mistmatch, poor chemistry. But the hair swirling down the drain and through the pipes, the warm clippers in their case, my cold ears all tell me that it was more. I was scared. I felt threatened. Boundaries had been crossed, boundaries I didn’t even realize the importance of until I clipped a 5/8ths inch comb onto some metal blades and ran the buzzing machine through my hair.

If I want to love you, I’ll never seduce you.

I’ll never feel comfortable wearing my sexy underwear for you, moaning your name, feeling your hard on, being naked in front of you. I won’t want you to see me that way, because I’m afraid you won’t see me any other way. That you won’t really love me. That you’ll use me.

If I want to seduce you, I’ll never love you.

I’ll never feel comfortable wearing my baggy sweats around you, or talking when I first wake up with my voice rough and raspy, feeling you hug me, wearing anything less than my sexiest clothes. I won’t want you to see me that way because I’m afraid you won’t want me anymore. That you’ll have used me.

I don’t want to be fetishized, I don’t want to be idolized. I don’t want you to look at me with awe. I don’t want to feel like your pet, your wife, your baby, your everything.

I want your respect and trust. I want it to be uncomplicated. I want us to be sweet like honey – not like refined sugar. I want to fight about what’s important, and sometimes about what’s not. I want honesty and straightforward, awkward reassurances. I don’t need to be seduced, I just need to know what you’re feeling. I want you to want me wanting you – want to want to want to need it.

I want to hold you and I want to be near you and I want to feel comfortable around you no matter what I wear, or what I say. I want to be deeper than friends, love stronger than lovers, more faithful than nuns, more sexual than whores, all in comfort. Comfort and trust and respect. Can you earn my trust? Can you get that deep inside me? I’m ready to be convinced that you won’t leave. Teach me how to fold my love and lust together.

I just spent the evening with my best friend. We hadn’t talked since before Christmas, maybe the end of October, and he called me up to go out to Thai food. This is how we generally reconcile after fights or long-periods of not-talking. It’s familiar, and it’s our favorite restaurant, and we love going together.

One of the things I learned while we were spending time apart was that I hold on to him so tightly that sometimes I ruin our friendship for us. I learned that I have to let go and be just a teensy bit more zen about what he does with his life, because being his best friend doesn’t mean being his keeper.

We talked about what we’re doing, we’re both seeing people. I’d just had my 4th date with the man, he has had a girlfriend for two months. He wants to break up with her already, and I surprised myself by laughing and saying “You have to stop doing this.” I explained my disinterest in his girlfriends like this, “I never know how long you’re gonna keep them around, so until I see a hint that she’ll be a part of our life together I don’t feel much need to get to know these people.” To which he did not have much of a response.

Afterwards we came back to my apartment and lay in my bed together, which is not unusual. We’re affectionate a great deal of the time, to the point where I have to point out to crestfallen-looking girls that he’s actually straight and not my boyfriend. We cuddle, hug, stand close, even sometimes dance around. My point being, it’s not unusual for us to be in a bed together.

Once, about a year ago, he asked me if I would ever want to blow him. I told him that if he sincerely wanted me to give him a blowjob, I would. We almost got there one night, as he stood in his boxers and I started to get on my knees he got nervous and pulled his pants up.

Tonight he brought it up again, as he has a few times since then. Usually to tease me. I think he finds it interesting that I would offer to suck his dick, and that I find him sexually attractive, but that I don’t actively pursue him. I let him know that if he wanted to do anything, I’m open to it and would want to do it safely and give him all the possible knowledge of any potential consequences. I think that it’s important, as his friend, to offer that kind of outlet and safety. I’d much rather have him get a blowjob from me than from a stranger at a party, or at an anonymous gloryhole. First of all, who knows if he’d catch anything. Secondly, to assure quality of experience. I know that I give amazing head, and if my best friend is going to be getting a blowjob from a guy I want it to be the best and safest he can get.

As we were cuddling in my bed we were talking about it, and I answered his questions the same way I always have.

“Can I get up and leave afterwards?”
 Isn’t that how you usually leave anyway?

“What if I don’t like it?”

You can ask me to stop. 

“I don’t want it to make things awkward for us.”

I’ve already decided that it wouldn’t be awkward for me. I love you, you are my best friend and we have already fought about most of our differences and still we love each other and want to spend time together. If it would be awkward for you, that is something you have to decide for yourself.

“I think I want you to.”

Yeah?

“Yeah. Would you blow me?”

If you really want me to.

“I want you to blow me.”

So I did.

I don’t feel bad about it. I want to do it again. I’ve decided this is something he has to control, since its his feelings that I think are going to be most affected. Afterwards, he said that he felt perfectly fine except for the plus of having just had the best blowjob of his life.

I don’t feel guilty about his girlfriend. I don’t feel guilty about the boy I’ve been seeing. I don’t feel guilty about playing out the gay-guy-loving-straight-cock stereotype. I feel almost like because of our friendship, it’s not the same. It’s not cheating. It’s not dishonest. It’s not anybody’s business what two friends make of their friendship.

P.S. His cum was delicious.

I loathe that in dating  people quickly, and I am guilty of this as well, dismiss people for superficial reasons. I like to believe that human beings are complex, give or take a few layers between any given individual, and that we cannot be dissected or understood completely in the course of an awkward two hour dinner. Or worse, by sitting silently through a movie surrounded by strangers.

So it is with great fear that I ever meet a boy or man that I develop a serious interest in. I do not want to be tossed out on my ass before I’ve even had a chance to show my best qualities. This is in direct opposition of my other fear – that once somebody knows me well enough, they will leave out of horror. Both are totally ridiculous fears, since people who would do either of these things are not likely to be the sort of people that I would personally feel any strong attatchment too.

This fear, of somebody not seeing the best of me, is what generally drives any urge I have to dress nicely or do my hair, and on some days even to brush my teeth. I am at least confident enough in my personality that I feel free to flirt in my own clumsy way should somebody seem worthwhile. Which is an opinion I am always hard-pressed to form, I usually ask mutual friends if possible. I typically find that I am constantly uncertain of what a guy is thinking or feeling towards me unless he’s making direct sexual advances, or doing/saying something explicitly romantic. I am, in this respect, a bit dense due to a combination of unwilling to believe the best and always hoping for it anyway. I hope that a guy likes me if he smiles at my jokes and I have a good time, but I am never expecting things to be as they appeared to me.