Relationships and worries

I used to be afraid of the dark, even until my later teen years. I would stumble home on a Friday or Saturday night and head downstairs to my bedroom. The whole time I would think about the monsters lurking in the dark, some unknown presence that could jump out and grab me and pull me away to its dark lair.

As I have gotten older, I no longer fear the demons in the dark but I want to be clear about this: I do have demons. I think they prevent me from getting close to people. They are my guards. They are the reason why I am so adamant about not falling in love or being in a relationship. They tell me I am better off alone.

I am fighting my demons so I can still be with Brad. It is a difficult struggle and I am constantly fighting my mind to rid myself of the doubt, or the strength I accumulated after my last devastating break up. Regardless, it’s happening, although I can’t measure it; I am in a different place right now and the future will only tell where it will lead me.

As I head out this weekend and enjoy St. Paddy’s Day. I can’t help but notice all the men – the majority straight – guys who are around. They are clad in the usual dress, and once or twice I manage to strike up some conversation.

One guy in particular approaches me at a small pub Brad and I went to. He tells me he’s bi and would love to fool around with myself and a girl. I flirt a little; he flirts back, and then behold, Brad steps forward to end our fun.

He tells me it’s because he thought the guy was being rude. The funny thing is, I really don’t mind. When he stepped in between us and had a talk with the other guy I was smiling. Normally I would be profoundly upset, but this act actually made me like him more. He was jealous although he didn’t admit it.

The past few weeks have been a trip. I have been very open to spending my time with one guy. We have cooked dinners together, went for hikes, watched movies, and even smoked a little pot.

He makes me laugh. He makes me a little jealous. He turns me on to no degree. I am asking myself why I don’t love him. Why I can’t – after 6 weeks – be totally and utterly smitten with this dude. Victoria’s number one bachelor and still nothing…well, there is something, but it’s not the unbridled passion I seek.

It’s for the best, I guess. I don’t want to be one of those people. I don’t want to fall into the trap of being head over hills. I like still having my wits about me. But oh, how I miss that romance; how I miss the gripping, uncontrolled, tumultuous passion I once had.

There is only one thing left to do. Play it out. Maybe I will find this same passion but in a different way. Maybe I’ll never find that passion again? Maybe I’m getting old and I really can’t be as picky as I once was. I still have my looks, and I have so much more, but how long will it last?

I see so many old and haggard gay men who troll it up at the gym. They walk through the bushes at parks, and they pick up hitchers, hang out in hot tubs and hot springs, and walk the local hiking trails.

They are everywhere. It’s so strange, you know. How five years ago I could go to these places and be oblivious to it all; now, it’s all I can see. I can smell them, sense their eyes raping my body, and, their desperation.

I don’t want to be an old troll and if it means finding something that is close to passion, which never equals what I once had, so be it. Besides, I don’t even like hot tubs.