Memories of touch

Sometimes I think humans forget how important it is to actually touch another person, to hold and be held by them.  I think we take it for granted until it is not there and then it aches when we realize how much we miss it.  Touch is important.  Without it, babies die.  Children fail to thrive, and adults develop a loneliness that is indescribable.

As I was walking this morning, I felt enveloped in the dense fog that hung under the grey sky up here in the hills.  I thought about my job and my private life...and then I felt sadness.  I realized I had not been hugged or held since I was on the East Coast with Sir back in early Fall.  Three months with no physical contact, save a brief hug at the airport and shaking hands with coworkers.

This mornings fog reminded me fondly of mornings where my roommate would come into my room, pull back the covers and slide in.  He'd spoon up against me and wrap his muscled arms around me and just hold me against him...and like an excited child I'd lay there...my breath quick for a while, afraid to move or disturb him. Eventually I'd fall asleep, occasionally pushing back against him in bed.

I craved these moments.  Not because there was romance there (we both knew it was nothing of the sort), and not even because it was sexual (as we have never had sex).  But sometimes he would grind against me, or he'd wrestle me down on the bed and pin me on my back or my stomach and bite me, not hard...but just enough of a nip to make my loins ache.  Despite that ache, I knew it would not go further, so I ignored the ache and just simply enjoyed it.  On days when my ex was gone, I'd sometimes sneak into my roommate's room and perch on the edge of the bed...waiting for permission to come in.  I was so anxious he'd say no (and he sometimes did)...but sometimes he'd pull the covers back, I'd slide in not touching him...and wait for him to pull me to him.  It was intoxicating.

I still remember the scent of his skin in those mornings, that natural scent that smells like your skin was kissed by the sun and he'd squeeze me and for brief periods I felt energized and safe.  Sometimes after a bad day, or a horrible family encounter I'd hug him and he'd hug me back.  Not that hug random guys give each other with a slap on the back or even a church "side hug".  These were embraces that made me feel like everything would be okay.

Those days are gone now, but I miss them.  I feel a distance between us now, something I cannot put my finger on.  But some mornings I wake up and wish he would knock and come in for early morning snuggles.  He closes his door now, so I know his bed is off limits to me, a fragment of a fleeting moment in time when he felt comfortable sharing that need between two men.  Sometime it feels like a dream, like it was never real...but then I remember that feeling of connection and warmth without expectations or assumptions.  Just two men holding each other, holding the outside world back.

Pathetic puppies are not desired puppies

This was going to be a post on Daddy/boy dynamics, but my heart isn't in it right now.  I have the draft saved on my HD, so maybe I'll edit it tomorrow and post it in a few days.

I went to bed last night depressed and lonely.  Honestly, it was a depression I hadn't felt in a long time and I still feel it today.  I watch people I know post about crazy sex parties and leather events they go to and I feel a sort of worthlessness around all of it.  Because I know if I was at that con, I'd be sitting alone in my hotel room, feeling too self-conscious about my body to actually go get the thing I really want.

My roommate doesn't understand it, but that is because people throw themselves at him sexually.  I don't know what thats like to be honest.  People who tell me its about quality, not quantity...are also people who get a lot more quantity than I do.  I sat alone last night thinking about how the sexual prime of my 20's has been spent doing graduate school work and hating myself...which hasn't really changed and my 20s are almost over.

Sometimes I feel too pathetic for my own good.  I'm going to crawl back in bed for the day.

I'm back for 2013

I haven't updated this in a long time.  It is not for a lack of want, or even time for that matter.  More that I have been lazy and forgot. 

I'm currently cruising at 37k feet while I'm writing this, tho it will be posted when I reach my hotel in the midwest.  What a year 2012 was.  It was not a good year to be sure.  I lost my dog, my grandmother, failed to match on my initial residency and suffered at times crippling anxiety that hurt me to my core.  But 2012, for all of it's negatives, also offered some positive experiences.  

I was able to go to my grandmothers funeral and obtain some closure over the abuse I suffered at her hands.  I was able to be there for Sir's 40th birthday and present him with a beautiful cake that I worked really hard to pay for and a party that I mostly planned.  I also engaged in therapy in 2012 for assistance with dealing with some past traumas, an experience which while not complete by any means, was fruitful.  I am looking to continue that into 2013.  

I also hope to match this year, something that would propel me one step closer to being a doctor and would place me in a new city, living on my own.  This is an exciting premise, as I have not ever truly lived on my own.  I've always had roommates or partners to answer to, and this will afford me the ability to truly set up a space that is mine and allows me to explore myself, my sexuality, and my nature to a degree I have never known.  I look forward to the experience, as well as the possibility of being more free to do assignments and be available for Sir whenever he wishes.

Growth is hard.  Trauma is painful.  But both create new buds and flowers that shape who we are.  I hope 2013 is a fruitful year.

(Also, I can say that so far in 2013 I have clocked over 5k miles, and will have clocked almost 20k air miles when I'm finished before the end of this mouth.  Not bad for a guy who used to be so terrified of flying he had to be unconscious for most of it.