genderjumper: cartoon giraffe, chewing greens, wearing cap & bells (Default)
I realized tonight that the reason I feel such a strong urge to expand my expression of sexuality is not directly because of the isolation of remaining COVID-cautious, but because I was incomplete when I had the chance. I want a redo, because those days when I could be flirty and hyperverbal and got a lot of attention, most of those folks didn't actually know what to do with me. Even those partnerships that, for a time, seemed ideal were only partnered with an incomplete self, and I struggled for a long time to get people who fawned over me to see me as I really was, not just what they wanted to project on me.

Which, yeah, being dehumanized sucks, even if it's in a positive light, but I don't really take it personally now. I just miss the timing of it all. I'm not lonely because I'm getting older and less attractive, I'm lonely because this is the most me I've ever been and people are really fucking missing out.

I suppose it's a cliché of aging that we never know what we could do with a playground until we've already outgrown it, but in my case I can also lob blame on the capitalization of the Internet. Yeah, sure, if there weren't an ongoing pandemic there could be hookups or sex parties or whatever, but if it weren't for monopolizing sites like Facebook and FetLife, there could still be confessional blogging and erotica-swapping; if it weren't for photo-centric dating apps, I could write and browse intricate profiles and bask in the humanity and reflexivity of it all like I used to; if the community I tried to build all those years ago had half taken hold, we could hole up in a little corner of the internet and continue building those beautiful spaces as we once did... But none of these things are true.

And while I did alright with my partially formed self (most importantly, I managed to avoid regrets and protect others' feelings in most circumstances), I just wish something equivalent existed now that I understand my intuitions, my privileges, and why so many relationships rub against my sense of justice. And maybe we could have fun.
genderjumper: cartoon giraffe, chewing greens, wearing cap & bells (Default)
Today, I heard a song on college radio called "The Virus", released by Shaina Shepherd last summer. It is frenetic and timeless, familiar and in-your-face. I haven't looked over the lyrics or origin other than the one listen, but it really filled out a mood for me today:

Holding back is exhausting.

Now as someone whose entire success in life can be traced back to the decision to embrace sobriety back when I was a preteen, thus setting me on a path of experimentalism and life-hacks so constant that even my close friends are sometimes surprised/put off, restraint is kind of my thing.

Not all restraint. Strategic restraint. Like things intense and have a family history of addiction? Swear off substances before you ever try them. Similar concerns about penetrative sex? Wait for someone special (even if you're not very good at knowing what constitutes "special" at 18). Feel like someone who's into you is a little too into you? Slow things down until you know more. That kind of stuff.

I often say that relationships and communication might be my "special interests", but the tool through which I develop them are perpetual analysis and adaptive restraint. My feelings about a situation don't matter until I know what's at stake, what the risks are, and where my room to maneuver lies. But the goal behind it all is that I like to get to a point where I can relax and just FEEL things, unconstrained. That's how I like my communication, my friendships, my sex, my music... And I have more than once noticed that I could invert depression if I just let myself express grief as celebration of what was had rather than mourning what was lost.

18 months into the pandemic, this song helped me realize I'm tired of holding it all in. I'm ready for music that conveys the devastation with captivating humor and intensity. I'm ready for news that doesn't balance, research that doesn't prevaricate, conversations that move each other, and criticisms that matter. I'm especially ready for these things to take the place of all the touch I've lost over the course of this summer and the realities of pandemic life.

Obviously, I can't be out-and-proud all the time and about every subject, but I think I'm going to find ways to invert the grief of these apocalyptic events. Because if I don't find something to celebrate I just might fall apart.

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