2001-11-20 - 1:10 p.m.

Some Wounds Take a While to Heal

It is pretty sad that somebody I haven't really talked to in two months is still haunting me. The bottom line is she hurt me, and really won't ever understand just how deeply wounded I feel. I felt misled, but both her and myself.

The truly sad thing about this is I've been very cautious and reluctant to establish relationships with other women after her. I politely pushed Crimson out of my life, and I've been keeping a good distance from Shells (both of whom I'm convinced like me). Part of the reason I've been avoiding them both, is they both are young, like Spring is. While Crimson and Shells both have lived on their own, and thus are a bit more independent, (which is a trait I have learned to admire in a woman), I'm still afraid of younger women. Funny, isn't it, that a nearly 30 year old man would find 20-something women more intimidating than anything else on the surface of the Earth.

Hiding

The real reason I didn't go down to the Bay Area last weekend is I was afraid of running into Spring. She goes to every event in the Bay Area that I'd like to be at. Guess that is why we originally started seeing each other. What is worse, she is always hanging around mostly naked with my play group (BDSM talk for people you fool around with). It makes sense, but she just simply doesn't respect my feelings enough.

Of course I'll have to eventually get used to the fact that she'll be running around naked at these parties. But why can't there be just one party that I'm invited to that she won't go to. She has two boyfriends; neither of whom are prevs or into play parties. In fact, her boyfriends only make out with her at these events. So why can't she just take them home and let me play?

Realistically this is a lot to ask for. I'm asking for something I felt I never got while dating her: respect. Why should anybody expect respect afterwards.

Return to SeVen

So last night I went with Redwood to the Monday night g/i club in Sacto with DJ CrackerJackBox again spinning. His set was remarkably bad. The music was fine, for radio or to be played at home. But he has no concept of dancing, and this is a dance club.

A frat daddy threw a glass of beer on some guy I was standing next to while waiting for some water. I was partially splashed. Fortunately I was dressed in my uber rivet-kid bounce gear (this would basically mean I was wearing stuff I've raided from military surplus stores). No damage to me or my pride.

LISTENING TO: David Bowie Changesbowie

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