Tuesday, April 03, 2012

Never enough

There's always something displaced or misplaced about cruising for sex on the internet, the way time squeezes out of feeling. Eventually, someone comes over for a few minutes, he just wants to jerk off and I guess he said that beforehand, but I didn't realize that would mean no body contact otherwise. It's kind of hard to jerk off without touching anything out but someone’s dick, not a skill I am cultivating. He doesn't call himself straight, just inexperienced -- he’s hard but nervous and awkward, about to come but he doesn't want to come he wants to get me off and I don't want to come like this so he decides it's not working. He apologizes. A few times. I give him a hug, even though he says he doesn't like hugs.

Trying to hook up, is that the misplacement? Hooking up: displacement. Today is the first sunny day in a while, warm enough to sit outside without a shirt, beckoning the sun to heal me, feel me, and then it's up to Dean's house to have a conversation that makes me feel so much more connected and then I think about walking to the park on my way back, I mean I'm headed in that direction past some lovely orange cats ducking into an alley but I'm at that point where I know that walking to the park will be too far, and this time I decide to go home instead, maybe I need to eat something.

My throat itches and maybe it's allergies but also from sucking cock at Steamworks a few nights ago, when you feel that stretching and yes that’s when I always end up with a sore throat. But now my eyes are burning and that's definitely allergies, the food tastes so good and then immediately more bloating, a stretching in my intestines pulling my skin and organs out in that awful way and yes, now I notice that my jaw hurts too but at least my head feels better, my head feels better from a conversation that means something, a welcome to the neighborhood, a friend new and old and the gorgeous light as the sun is setting on my way home.

Oh, no -- now I'm online looking for sex again. Wasn't I supposed to ban myself from online cruising for a week – that’s what I was thinking earlier, but see how quickly I forget. I mean: I can tell that I'm too tired to go to Steamworks or Volunteer Park, but then the internet beckons. Not because I'm horny now, but because I was horny earlier.

Now my hands are burning -- is that rash coming back? Better put some more oil on, before I wash the dishes and dim the lights to start winding down. Winding down from winding down, maybe that's what happens with internet cruising, you lose track of the day and that's okay but you also lose the possibility of engagement because you're only engaged in this one thing that never or almost never leads to the feeling that you want. And then you want it again, the feeling that you never get. Wanting that feeling, you aren't feeling -- just perched above another profile, an email leading to an email leading to an email. And then you remember: oh, to breathe is to want no to breathe is to feel and that's what I'm not feeling enough in this quest for that certain type of feeling that is never enough.

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