On Thursday I had my first counselling session of 2009. I really have grown to dislike them and am very seriously thinking of cancelling altogether.
This session involved yet another of those dreadful exercises where, on this occasion, I had to rank the things I seek from causal sexual encounters, and compare that to what I seek from a relationship. This irritated me because of the sub-text that enjoying casual sex – just meeting men for sex, to enjoy new physical experiences and essentially have a stonking great orgasm (or several) - is wrong. Of course I don’t seek a relationship, friendship, security from casual assignations. And the implication I am deficient or defective in my behaviour because of that is, frankly, infuriating.
My counsellor’s concerns, in fairness to him, were founded on the rocky point I have reached with International. He feels that I am much more closed off than I have been before because I feel hurt and my recent assignations are a reversion to past (apparently bad) behaviour.
Nevertheless today International and I met for the first time since his holiday. He wanted to meet because he was feeling pretty low and needed “hugs”. So, somewhat against my better judgement, we met at a gay bar local to my office and, fortunately or unfortunately [take your pick], we were very quickly all over each other and saying how much we love each other. Muches smooches indeed. And so it seems things are, well, something, again.
Now, of course, I’m thoroughly confused. It really has begun to amaze me, the difference between my cold Teutonic intellect and the heart that slowly but surely lays its plans against me.
I adore International, I really do. And in many ways he’s been so good to me. Spain, ice skating… silly though it may read no-one’s done things like that for me before. Yet he has Ouch; Ouch whom he loves and who loves him and they still have sex, and no they really don’t have an open relationship at all… so I’ve become what I didn’t want to be and I get annoyed with my self. And yet, and yet…
On the other hand of course there is Christmas. My counsellor was particularly, almost inordinately some might say, excited by my relationship with Christmas, and for some reason saw the dinner we had between Christmas and New Year as particularly good news. Well, he’s a great guy – not perfect but who wants that?
So the question we have to pose is this: why is it that I am enamoured by someone so manifestly unsuitable in that he will never, can never be ‘mine’; and I am so smitten I am unable to fully seize the opportunity in front of me?
Frumpella's a one man idiot, that's why!