Friday, May 22, 2015

What Happens in Oregon Stays in Oregon

On a mission to find a new place to call home, I drove to Bend, Oregon last weekend and picked up Crazy Chinatown Man along the way.  He had been off of opiates for over two weeks and warned me that he might be quiet and/or strange.  If High-On-Opiates was his baseline, I was curious to see Sober.

I didn't find him any odder than usual until it was time to go to sleep and we undressed, got into bed, cuddled, and didn't kiss.  He a naked man and I a naked woman, yet we lay there with virtually no contact.  I tried a bit, but he didn't seem interested.  We went to sleep.

My neuroses flared up as I fired off all the reasons in my mind that he wasn't interested in sex, with the following being the most logical:

He thinks I'm fat. 

-Closely followed by He doesn't think I'm pretty.
 
The next morning we woke up- still not touching- got dressed, and decided to spend some time hiking for the day.  It was about 4 in the afternoon when we returned after grabbing something to eat, and I'd resigned myself to the fact that we were probably just going to hang out as friends.  We'd spent over 24 hours together by that point with minimal physical intimacy, and I decided he just wasn't feeling it.  I was disappointed but not upset with the change of pace, and I realized that I liked spending time with him- sexual or not- which is more than I can say for most men I've slept with.  I would have preferred to have sex, yet I was still enjoying his company without it.

Then fresh out of the shower with a towel around his waist, he pulled me toward him and kissed me suddenly.  "I want to have sex with you,"  he said, and pinned me against the wall.  The sex was great, as it always has been- so good that I didn't notice he'd bit my shoulder hard enough to cause a bruise until I saw myself in the mirror.

We went back to not touching, and the neuroses set in again.  All I wanted to do was ask him lots of questions that I'm certain he didn't want to answer:  Why didn't you want to have sex with me last night?  How can you seem completely uninterested and then have sex with the intensity that causes black and blue contusions?  Do you just see me as a friend who you fuck?  Will you ever see me as anything more?  Do you like me?  On a scale of 1-10, how much do you like me?  Did you only like me because you were high on approximately 20-40 mg of oxycodone a day?  Remember when you said we should have kids together and we named them?  Was that because you were high on approximately 20-40 mg of oxycodone a day?  Because I WASN'T AND YOU SHOULDN'T FUCK WITH A 32 YEAR OLD WOMAN'S BIOLOGIC CLOCK LIKE THAT!!!!!!  Do you think I'm fat?  Do you think I'm pretty?

There are some questions in dating that are so pointless they should never be said out loud, and all of the above fall into that category.  At a future juncture I may need to ask some of them- or all of them- but the moment is not now, when we live in different states, when our individual trajectories are uncertain, when all there is to do is hang out and enjoy each other's company if the opportunity arises. 

I've historically formed my best relationships with men when we both know it can't go anywhere, and I can't help thinking that's why Crazy Chinatown Man and I get along so well.

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