the solipsist in love

Memories encased in glass

I had another dream about Travis last night. This one was a little more intimate: we spent time together, we were lying in bed. He had lost all that weight he was obsessing over last time I saw him, and I was thoroughly enjoying wrapping my hands around his fit little waist. Yum yum yum. There was still the sense of distance – he remained wary of me, and I was awkward because of it, knowing that I couldn’t get him to warm up to me any faster than he would on his own. Still, again today I miss him. The urge to reconnect is becoming hard to resist. It’s not like I think it would be a good idea to get back together, if he would even buy that. I’m pretty sure he’s shown me that he is too much for me to handle.

But what I discovered is that because of him, and a couple of other exes or “almosts,” I feel more comfortable with the prospect of moving back to the East Coast for grad school than I would feel about moving to, say, Chicago or Austin or even Santa Fe. (Why did I say “even” Santa Fe? Not sure… New Mexico just seems a lot less foreign to a San Franciscan like me than Austin does.) When I think of the Northeast I get warm fuzzy feelings. Maybe it’s simply because I’ve spent time there, I’ve even lived there for a few years, so it’s more familiar. But I can’t help thinking it has something to do with these boys, as well. Boys who drove me crazy with desire or rage or both, boys who withheld vital things from me when I was desperate for them.

Why should I feel fond of them? Why would their presence make me feel safe? On a practical level they have each proven themselves to be unreliable. I realized it’s because, despite whatever awful things we said or did to each other, I also shared with each of them a bond that grew from vulnerability, tenderness, a profound understanding and acceptance of each other. I got to see the parts of them that made me able to love them at all – the human parts – and it seems that no amount of pain, betrayal or disappointment is able to erase that fundamental fondness I feel for each of them. It explains why I still associate them, first individually and now collectively, with being home.

It’s comforting to discover that even the simple knowledge of those connections once made and nurtured is enough to continue feeding me. To know, at the very least, that I once upon a time felt at home with someone, is sufficient to strengthen me in the face of embarking on another grand adventure, completely alone.

… ha. That sounded pretty good, right? Maybe a little cheesy. But it’s a lie. I don’t feel stronger. I feel terrified of being alone, of removing myself once again from an already sparse support network. (The internet can only do so much, folks.) I feel myself drawn to the East Coast precisely because then, I tell myself, I wouldn’t be alone. Maybe one of these boys would come through for me, give me love and affection and comfort and encouragement when I need them, tell me I am worth something because I still don’t really, really believe it. But jesus, if I am really counting on that, even if I don’t want to admit it to myself, I am only going to be setting myself up for devastation. I’ve already said these people aren’t trustworthy, not on that level. They’re good people, don’t get me wrong. But they’re not prepared to step into any kind of primary role in my life. Not to mention that they almost certainly have no desire to do so: I’m a fucking handful. Yet again I try to get away with deluding myself. Can’t I do a single goddamn thing alone, without looking around frantically for someone I can collapse on if I need to? Not that we don’t all need that sometimes. But I am probably just looking for an excuse to collapse again.

I hope I’m only freaking out because my two good friends in this city happen to be simultaneously out of town for more than a week. Otherwise I’ll have to revisit this soon.