Sunday, November 5, 1995


It was good to see Jim and Nancy. They seem to have healed the rift between them, and all was as it was last year before he left her. He left on the blood red road, only to find it led right back to her door. Family. Roots. In his own backyard. 

I was relieved when Nancy was cordial to me, she didn't seem to harbor hostility for she was angry that he came and stayed with me. If only for a short time. Was I to throw him out in order to offer sisterly solidarity? I, who knew him first? I didn't think so. 

I never wanted to live with him, I found his wandering eye drove me crazy. And I felt jealous and I didn't like feeling jealous, so I was done with that. True, he was a loose cannon, but when a man is with me, I expect him to be with me, not just take up physical space. 

But then I pushed him away because I didn't want him. The second man to return to my arms like a boomerang, and I didn't want him for the second time round.

Men whom I have loved but rejected. At least Jim has remained a friend for over 10 years later as does Lee Perron. The others I hear from infrequently: Edwin Drummond, Geoff Davis, who else? 

Who were the man in my life who mattered, who continued in some kind of relationship after the relationship was over? John, Oleg, Jim, Lee. 

Oleg wasn't quite in the same category as John or Lee and Jim, Geoff and Edwin were one to two-year relationships not as deeply felt as my relationships with John and Lee. 

Vince is somewhere in that list too but I never loved him with the same intensity as Lee or John. Where does Bob fit in? Seven years of my life I spent with him and he's not even in the first arcana of men because he so thoroughly disappeared? Did I love him in the way that I loved Lee? Bob is elsewhere on this list.

Where do all the almost lovers fit into this list? There's Jan and Sonny, all that unrequited love at the wrong time for all the wrong reasons, etc. 

I know Jan Bogaerts loved me, at least he was able to admit it. But he fled because something was not quite right in the packaging, but I think it had more to do with his fear of having a real lover, the whole kit and caboodle. 

And I could not chase him. There were two continents and an ocean in the way. I did not believe in throwing everything away for him to be. Besides he had a wild streak of something I did not, and could not ever trust. That place would wound me beyond belief, and after John, no man will ever be given that opportunity to eviscerate me thusly again.

I still think of Vince not so much in Amsterdam, but in Antwerp and Eindhoven, and in Brussels, there was a stripping away of the fear and we were closer together, and we were truly naked before each other. And where did that go? 

I couldn't take Vince's craziness, nor Jan's for that matter. Vince's craziness was scary, something to do with him always manipulating the past to fit the present argument, and I hadn't the tools to survive that. On some level I guess we're all crazy, it comes with the territory. A line I wrote somewhere I'm sure, but it is a matter of what we can live with, can cope with.

Of all the men who have loved and left me, but I have left a few as well. Vince, Oleg, Valera practically at the altar, Edwin, the last two, I left before it got any more riddled with intrigue. 

In a sense, I left Bob by falling in love with Lee, and I was sleeping with him and pregnant, when Bob threw me out, and he never knew. John and Jim and Geoff truly left me in the lurch. John, so much so, I still haven't recovered. 

I harbor this picture of myself as being the one who always gets left behind, but it's simply not true. I'm not always decisively cut and dry. Other circumstances intervene. Oleg left for the Ukraine, but I had long since ceased loving him months before. He became intolerable, it was a love based upon regret for what will never be. He had unfinished business with his wife.

And then there's Sonny, and I don't know where to place him on this particular scheme of things. Certainly I've loved him long enough from afar up close but that must be the most intimate I've ever been with him was a late night steaming kissing scene.

Jan and I fooled around but I wouldn't fuck him though he drag me on top of him several times, we were doing our fair share of rolling around. But I was so afraid of AIDS and of his attraction to the homosexual world, I couldn't, I would not fuck him. 

And right now Pat's fucking Sonny while George and I talk about his cock outside on the porch. I had to come over to George's to borrow some sugar ironically. George relates the scariest moment was when had an oral encounter with a girl eating licorice. That was truly alarming I thought this at the very least what I was bruised.

I told him about the Karma Sutra, how men wrapped their cocks and stinging nettles to make them bigger, and slept on cots with holes in them.

We giggle like schoolgirls when he tells me about the time he fell asleep in the sun and thought he had leprosy when the skin sloughed off. We giggled and I said, Well, George, I'd love to talk about your penis some more, but I'm cold and I'm going home. 

I'm sure Pat overheard most of our ribald conversation as she had open the windows and the blinds. Just the sound of our voices drives her crazy, let alone, my my presence, and I do make my presence known here, as I live here. She is not going to drive me away from my home. 

As for Sonny I think he's waited too long, and the rifts cannot be breached nor healed but then his modus operandi is avoidance. I thought of writing another letter but I'm losing attachment.

Does he plan to avoid me the rest of his life, does she lead him around by a ring in his nose, or in his cock, to the extent that he has no life beyond her specific needs? 

As if to blame me for his need to trust me, or to open up about other women, or to cry on my shoulder, then dismiss it with a third word manipulation. A word that couches the action and explains, intellectualizes it, thus removing it from its primary emotion, invalidating everything.

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