Meet market...

I'm already a little more than frustrated with being thrust back onto the singles market.

Even though I'm only 24, only very nearly dead in they eyes of the most cutting queers, I feel like I've really outgrown the whole online thing. First it felt like I was practically alone out here. Now I just feel alone.

The internet is a beautiful thing for gays and lesbians. It allows us to freely meet and mingle in a community that does not threaten us. At least, it doesn't threaten us with reproach from the straights, more threatens us with reproach from one another.

I just really feel at a loss, I'm sorry if this post is a bit rambling. I'm not usually overly-emotional about things, but I just feel really crappy tonight.

After unsuccessfully trying to meet some guys in the area, just for the sake of making some new friends, I canvassed Google and found a few more sites that I haven't hit up yet. I did the typical sign-up thing, wrote my little blurb and finally got to work checking out the local population.

And again and again, the population lets me down.

I don't feel like my standards are too high. I just feel like I have standards.

The internet has degenerated into a sex shopping mall. Literally every profile I read was geared towards finding the next fuck. Even the ones with a few interesting words to say ended their profiles with the typical, "But I'm on here to have fun too." Ugh.

Is it so incredibly hard to fathom that we might use the internet to actually make some friends with gays in our neighborhoods? I understand that it allows us the freedom to seek out sex without the scary consequences of bigotry, but why does it have to be used exclusively for the physical purpose?

I guess when I was a few years younger, I didn't notice it as much. I was content with meeting people on the physical level and not really getting stimulated on the mental one. But at this moment in my life I would really treasure meeting some guys 'like me'. I know my tastes are quite outside the norm (not that they're weird, just unpopular) but it feels like I am literally a one-of-a-kind person. Why is there nobody out there that actually wants to have meaningful conversations? Or that isn't a totally self-absorbed asshole? (Of course, writing this makes me a totally self absorbed asshole, but this is a blog, not a conversation.)

I just feel very frustrated and very down about the state of gay affairs. Are we all just meant to fuck one another and then bitch about it to our girlfriends? Is there nobody out there that just wants to make a more meaningful connection with the people around them? Am I destined to be sitting here on a Friday night, surrounded with my books, music and blog to keep me company?

Really, I just want to feel like I have a chance at standing out 'out there'. Because after reviewing the local postings, I just don't see much of anything in common with my fellow homos. I would say I feel sorry for them, but then again, I'm the one in the minority here, and they probably feel sorry for me.

I guess I just haven't yet found the right market to meet the type of person that I'd like to.

Peeking at the outside world...

I forgot how much fuckwittage there is in the cesspool of the online world.

I'm not trying to sound cynical. It's been so long since I've even really looked at any online-profile websites that I'd forgotten how ridiculous and traumatizing it is. Silly old me even thought that - maybe - the world would have gotten nicer during my online absence. Oh brother...

In an attempt to actually meet some people in my general vicinity as well as (possibly) start moving forward and putting some distance between myself and my previous relationship, I re-created a profile on one of the more modest sites. My expectations have been set pretty low both due to geography and 'the nature of the beast' but admittedly I've been surprised at my general lack of success and the dent it leaves in one's ego.

First off, it seems that people come in three groups. One, the smattering of guys that come across as having serious socialization problems. Not exactly great material for friendship. The next are arrogant, cocky and generally sex crazed. It always reads like these guys are just looking for the next lay and basically can't stop talking about how wonderful they are. Again, not the type of guy that I'm really interested in hanging out with.

The final group is the one that exasperates me the most. They're the ones that have the perfect hair, perfect teeth, a killer body, a coverboy that holds a doctorate in neurobiology who also find time to build houses for destitute Guatemalans and volunteer at their local animal shelter.

Yes, yes, yes, I can already hear a certain someone's sage advice: "People bullshit profiles all the time and everybody lies." Don't worry,  I'm not sucked in completely, but damn if I haven't read some appealing profiles. But, of course, I shudder to even think of talking to, let alone meeting, these saints.

On one such occasion I read the profile of a guy in his mid-20's who was a short blond with the most amazing smile I've seen. He's a student, working towards his doctorate, seeking genuine and intelligent conversation with similar guys. His photos paint a picture of a very attractive man with a fabulous social life (and deadly smile). His profile described him as having impeccable taste. His favourite music closely resembles mine, something that barely, barely ever happens. In short, he would be the ideal on-paper friend.

So on a whim I messaged him. I politely asked what he was studying and congratulated him on pursuing his education so far. No innuendo, no sly wording, just a few straight-up friendly lines.

Of course I was thrilled when I got a reply a mere 20 minutes later.

The thrill lasted around two seconds when I realized it was 10 words long. An answer to my question. That was it. No further discussion, no questions pointed back at me. Nothing of any substantial meaning.

I don't really know what I'm doing wrong. I didn't send him five pages of personal info, explaining point by point how much we have in common and how awesome and rare that is. I just sent a friendly note. I think I would have preferred silence instead of the one-line reply.

Over the course of about a month I have never been spontaneously sent a message from anyone. Roughly 20 people have viewed my profile. And it makes me feel pretty worthless and unappealing.

I know I shouldn't let it bother me. I mean, it's the fucking internet, it's pretty much all bullshit, lies and half-truths. But it does play into my (insane) want to be wanted. Nobody is more aware than me that my tastes and interests lie outside the 'norm' of a gay 20-something. I'm not expecting people to be banging down the doors wanting to get to know me. But dammit, I would really like if a couple people showed a vague interest!

Sadly, at this point in my life, there really isn't any other way to meet people except online. Now living in a homophobic community, it's even less likely that I'll run into guys around my age and strike up a friendship. And my one experience with a local boy, as you've already seen, was pretty much a disaster. I have little choice but to put myself on the interweb and hope for the best.

I just wish I didn't feel so damn worthless over something so utterly stupid.

Cats and dogs...

The rain just started falling and ruined my pathetic evening plans.

Really, in some ways, it's best the rain fell. It saved me from myself. When I pulled my jacket on, plugged myself into my iPod and reached for my umbrella, he sky opened. I could see people on the street below running for cover from the rain.

My big plan tonight was to go to Starbucks. And maybe read.

How sad is that?

Here I am, back in Toronto, surrounded by thousands of people...limitless things to do. But nobody to do them with.

My day went really rather well. I've been stressed, already, about school and getting some early assignments in. But today everything went really well. I came home, with the vague desire to do something fun tonight. After all, things went much better than expected, and I wasn't nearly as tired or stressed as I had anticipated.

After eating dinner with Laura, I tried to think of something to do. The first thing that popped into my mind was a pint at one of our local jazz establishments. I haven't gone yet, and it's always a fun time. You get a great mix of music with time for talking, plus I like the beer one particular place serves.

But as I drew up my plans, I drew a blank on who to go with. There's Christine, a friend I haven't even seen on campus yet. Or what about Joe? Maybe his roommate Andrew. Oh, how about Jayne, the girl from France?

As I spoke out names to myself, I couldn't seem to find someone who fit. It started to scare me, and I felt like I did at points last year; disconnected, out of the loop...unsocial.

I never ended up calling anyone, because in truth, there is nobody on my list of people I feel comfortable enough in just calling up and saying, "Hey! Lets meet up at (blank)."

I got to fool myself this summer. Told myself, "Look at your last few weeks of school, you were busy! You were out! You were in some demand!" The thankful excuse was that I was out of town, had no reason or way to get in touch with people. There was no need to worry, things would be different when I got back.

Now, here I am. Back. It's not even been two weeks yet and I'm already worrying myself over the fact I haven't made any big plans yet, haven't hit the bar with friends, haven't gone to a movie with someone...

The truth is, I don't know what kind of a creature I am. Before, I swore up and down I didn't need lots of interaction to be happy. I despised people who could not be alone for an evening, or an hour, without feeling the need to call someone or make some plan.

Now tonight I'm doubting myself. I'm here, almost by myself (my roommate off studying), and I'm feeling vulnerable and alone. Jesus, I'm not a first year, how is it that I'm struggling to come up with someone to go for a quick beer with?

Ultimately I've slipped into a very bad mood tonight. I don't even know why anymore, just one of those frustrated, tired evenings. I wonder if all the party boys have these moments too. Do they cover them up by diving face-first into 'fun', or are they blissfully unaware of their own misgivings and shortcomings?

Do party boys have shortcomings?

An astute psychologist may interpret my problem as age-related angst. For, you see, Steve has recently (and quietly) turned 21. So what exactly is my problem? Here I thought I was growing up, becoming more comfortable with myself. Mature enough not to worry about petty things like a social life. Happy to curl up after a nine-hour day with a plate of Thai food and Sex and the City.

I quickly fall back on the 'if-there-was-a-boyfriend' idea. Well, if there was one, I wouldn't feel out of place doing nothing on a Tuesday night. Maybe we'd read together, or have a late dinner, or watch a movie...some small distraction. But doing these things by one's self seems to outline your separation from other people, more than doing this with a significant other outlines your dependence on one person.

Ultimately, I just don't know. I kept telling myself that when I was a little older, things like this just wouldn't matter anymore. I'd be happy doing my own thing, in my own way. But I just haven't quite got there yet.

Sonofabitch...

It is Monday, July 23.

This is the third day the new Harry Potter book has been available.

My copy was ordered June 15.

It has still not arrived.

Shitty.

I'm now faced with the ever-growing threat of finding out what happens before I actually get to read it. Several friends have already finished it, or are well on their way to doing so. And I haven't even gotten my copy yet.

Now I curse Indigo Books, the Canadian version of Barnes & Noble, because they have failed me. The reasoning for my anger is twofold. I ordered two books, both of which had not been 'published' when I placed the order. The other title was 'Lean, Mean Thirteen' by the hilarious Janet Evanovich. Shocking even to me, it arrived in my mailbox on the day of release, having been mailed a few days before. I was very pleased, and expected similar results with Harry Potter.

So this morning I waited patiently for the mailman to drive by the house. I bounded down the driveway, dizzy with anticipation. Ripping open the mailbox door, I stared in at a few bills and the local paper. No book.

Instantly I went online to check my order's status. Indigo's web page says the order is 'awaiting processing'. Whhhaaat? This was supposed to be boxed up and mailed by now!!!

The ultimate piss-off (and second reason) is the fact that I interrupted tradition by purchasing it online. For the last two books, it has been a bizarre circumstance that I was always at a friend's party on the evening of the release. One year, I mentioned that the book was going on sale, and that it'd be funny for a bunch of tipsy teens to crash the local bookstore's midnight release party to get our copies.

Even funnier, I ended up loading the car full of people to head to the bookstore. We all got our copies, but didn't start reading until the next afternoon thanks to a blinding hangover (ahh youthful indiscretion...).

So it happened that on Friday night I was at a friend's house party, with some of the very same people who picked up the other books in past years. I didn't bother saying anything since my copy was supposedly tucked into Friday's mail and would arrive this morning for my reading pleasure.

But no book has arrived.

Now I've got to censor everything from conversations with friends to my Internet surfing for fear of another "Snape kills Dumbledore!" fiasco.

Sonofabitch. I want my book!

Vulnerable...

After much internal debate, I've decided to upload the unedited version of my diary entry marked 15 May 2007. It aroused debate because I didn't really feel comfortable with some of the language in it (guess which parts!), but I was drunk when I wrote, rather scrawled, those letters...and we all know what alcohol does...give you that little ouce of truth telling that you lack when you're sober. Plus, I never intended to upload my thoughts to the blog, but that brings up an entirely other point.

The only way this thing works is if I unashamedly put my feelings and thoughts into my entries...no matter how embarassing they may seem to me. I couldn't believe myself as I revied my journal from the trip and thought, "I shouldn't add that. What if someone scoffs!?" But isn't that why I'm here? I mean, I have the great privilidge to call some of my readers friends, but the greater population still holds me at arms length.

So without further adeau, my entry marked 10:20 p.m., as written, drunken on my balcony:

"Out of light for sure, but I'll keep writing.

Am I depressed? I don't even know anymore. What was supposed to be enjoying a quiet night alone has turned into yet another introspective evening. This time (blank) brought it on. He pulled out a club guide for Nice, which happened to have his friend's brother's photo in it. But what I found out was it was a gay club guide.

Now, this is boring. But then I started to realize yet again how out of touch with the gay world I am. How badly I want acceptance, how I want what the boys in the photos have. But I feel like I'll never get that, besides, how could I ever be that popular? Popularity must transcend sexuality, therefore I'm doomed.

The whole point of this is I'm possibly a depresive case, but if I was to be asked what depresive, it's the fact I'm not gay enough. And the whole acceptance thing, the reality is however bullshit it is, to want to be accepted , it's whats the best, and it seems no matter what scenario I'm thrust into, I always wind up the same.

I miss Brian. Maybe I loved him after all. But more than likely, I liked being loved."

Wow, that was painful to type. In the sober hours, I don't think I'm depressive. Even tonight, I was looking forward to September and trying to actually find someone again. But in the dark moments, when you feel alone...and you've got a pen in your hand...well, you either get brilliant songs/poetry, or really crappy journal entries.

Oh grow up...

I realize that I've been acting childishly about the whole recent situation. To the point where I'm embarassed at how immature I am, when usually I'm the one that's keeping people calm.

Not that I've been kicking the crap out of garbadge cans, or downing pails of iced cream, or anything drastic (or interesting). It's all been very internal. But I refuse to be that stupid child and have now decided to no longer whine and pine over the fact that things out of my contol happen.

So I, Steve, hereby swear that I will be a mature man of substance, and will not allow myself to worry needlessly or to act irrationally because of things that are in the past.

Of course I realize that since I haven't been around the block enough times yet, I legitimately am operating with the relationship skills of a 16-year-old. So that's gotta count for something. But at the same time, when I'm calling Lisa 3 times in a row after discovering the MySpace page of the new bf, then the MySpace page with the blog...definately going to be more mature next time.

And when will the next time be? I've recieved some advise that says I'm not ready for a long term thing. But am I allowed something short term? I mean, maybe I'm being immature again, but if I do meet someone, I'm sorry, but I want to be happy with that part of life again. I spent all of high school playing the 'I don't need anyone to be happy'/'some day soon, I'll meet someone, don't worry, it'll happen' roles. I don't want to simply have someone for the sake of having a body on the couch next to me, but I know I'm just happier when there's someone around that I actually like.

Inner poise...inner poise...

Snowy days in March...

I've definately hit a new phase in the 'move on with life' thing.

Not like I was super-invested in my relationship, but it was my first in a very long while and it made me happy to have someone. Not that I 'need someone' or am turning into the person who can't be alone for 5 minutes...but everything's nicer when there's someone around.

Since I got up Sunday morning I've been working on an essay. Thankfully I'm almost finished, I've written the damn thing, now I just have to source it. But I'm majorly distracted, like every good student.

Only my distractions aren't typical 'what's on TV' things...I must say I'm the most down about what happened last week right now that I was then. It's the whole alone-ness, and the lack of sex, and the same old self-doubt that was bothering me before.

As I scrolled the dating sites, looking for guys who might be interested in dating, I realized how scary it is again to go out and find someone. I don't even know what happened those weeks ago when I had lined up like 3 dates with guys...I seemed to be on a roll, everything was looking up, and I had a good time. Things went further, and I wound up with Brian, and I guess I just forgot how being single is scary at times.

I could be looking at it as a blessing. I get to run around and have sex with whomever and enjoy life. (Incidentally, this probably won't be happening). But like I was realizing before, my enjoyment is multiplied when I get the satisfaction of being with someone and snuggling afterwards, not just pulling on clothes and going home alone.

And now I think I'm more scared than ever that I won't be able to replicate the results I had before. I want to know that I'll be able to find someone again, and be as happy as so many others seem to be right now. On the same hand, I have to aknowledge that I'm insane if I start asking guys out right now, with me leaving town in a few weeks. But I'm lonely, and I'll admit it.

All the things I promised myself that I, the rock-steady, stoic, mature 20-year-old that I am, wouldn't let bother me.

Plus this weather is just plain shit. I want spring sunshine, and no more snow. And I've got deadlines that I'm about to burn an ulcer into my stomach over. And life right now is just a pain in the ass.

I think I'm going to do a Starbucks run, then more work...even though I have no drive to do it. But I guess it beats sitting around worrying that I'll never get a date again...

This can't be healthy...

Brian finally messaged me back.

He'd gone out, without his phone, and left himself logged into MSN. And he's going out again now with his roommate. And he's maybe going to buy a phone, because his battery isn't charging.

Fuck.

At first, I was relieved. Like I had maybe suspected, he'd gone out. But to not have your phone...and then he's now going out with his roommate again, and said he'd be free around 9. All plausable stuff.

But we'd made some very flimsy plans for this afternoon anyway, and whats this going out with roommate and be back at 9 crap?

I can't even believe I'm thinking/writing that.

See, this is me being stupid. Ever since 'the fight' I'm looking for hidden meaning in everything, and feeling generally confused. He says he wants to spend more time with me, and I tell him I'm free today, and he goes out anyway and won't be home until tonight!? This after telling me last night his plans were nothing and more nothing, and that he'd be free.

I'm being stupid. But the other half of me says I'm allowed to be worried.

Fuck.

Oh, the humanity (part two)...

I laughed and told Lisa, who then said:

"I'm a little worried about you. Not about the fact you're going online, but the fact you're sleeping with guys when you don't even know what you want."

I then got to feeling even worse than before. She didn't look down at me when I told her about my 'guys on the side' before, but tonight she seemed to be getting worried about what I was doing. I questioned her about what exactly she was 'worried' about, considering we'd had the safe-sex discussion, and the fact that I was actually enjoying some sexual activity.

"It's just, you don't know what you want with Jamie, and you visited that other guy more than once, does he mean anything to you?..."

I started wondering if the reason she was 'worried' is because I'm not being monogamous with any specific person. Sure, I got a few under my belt, but now she must think that I should settle for sex with one guy, regardless of if we're going out or not.

Now, I'm not entirely sure, because we never finished that part of the discussion. So I'll just have to wait and see what she says face to face.

I ended up telling Nate (the guy who messaged me, the one who I've hung out with twice) that I wasn't up for anything tonight, since I've got studying to do and have to be in bed at a decent hour. After that, I collapsed into my chair, and felt awful. Just a sick feeling, eminating from the pit of my stomach, totally distracting me from doing much of anything. I just felt so swallowed up in the immenseness of it all...not that I expect my change in life to be as simple as clicking my heels...but I've already worked through a lot of what I thought was bothering me in December. Now, I've got a fresh weight hanging over me.

I just want so desperately to be embraced by a boy, someone who wants to spend time curled up in bed with me, watching tv or reading, having a home-made dinner together, hitting the town for an afternoon of culture or an evening of drinking...

See, I missed the whole relationship-jumping in highschool. I had my fun with a few girls, but somehow stayed single for the senior years. I never got any of the fun, dopey, corny 'together time' with anyone special, since I was never really going out with anyone. And it's not like I think it's dopey or corny to want to snuggle with a guy my age while watching Boston Legal tomorrow night, or having dinner on Thursday evening...I know I don't want an infatuation, an obsession with one person where I can't spend a moment without them. I just want a little love and attention through the week. Unfortunately the only love and attention I can get right now begins with a conversation online and ends with cum drying on my body.

So I trudged out in the freezing cold once more to find some food for my single dinner. I went to the grocery store, found some good-looking frozen home-cooked-style dinners, but decided against waiting for the oven to blast the package for an hour. In January I promised myself not to go to McDonalds anymore, but tonight there seemed no other place to go, so I started walking to find one.

After getting very cold because I forgot my mits, I landed into a Micky-Dee's and hurried up to the counter. I just wanted my poison, and then wanted to get the hell out of there. But naturally there was a lineup (after 8pm on a Monday night...), so I waited paitently.

And who was ordering before me? Hot college-aged gay guys.

And how do I know they were gay? Other than the beautiful tans, the cleverly torn jeans, the overly put-together hairstyles and the all-telling fur-lined jackets, they were loudly making plans with each other (and other guys on the phone) about which gay bar to go out to tonight.

Fuck. I'm buying McDonalds on a Monday night feeling depressed and alone, and four rediculiously hot gay guys are making plans to go out to one of the gay clubs in the city, meeting more rediculiously hot friends there.

It's not that I necessairliy want to go out with the clubber-boi posse, but they make it all look so easy. No doubt they've got a huge number of personal issues, and they probably are all sleeping with each other's boyfriends...but fuck, they make life look so easy and fun.

I placed my order and paced the floor, wanting desperately to get out of the sight of these guys, and put the evening out of it's misery. Finally my food was ready, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door. But as I started walking, I skidded on the slick tile and slipped right into a table. Thank God I didn't fall over, because I would have died right there in McDonalds. I mean, I was reaching the point of crawling into a corner and crying myself to sleep, until the nice men with butterfly nets came and took me away. I recovered and without looking back stepped back into the frigid night, returning to my empty home, empty couch, and empty bed.

Oh, the humanity (part one)...

My night ended with me leaving McDonalds more depressed than when I went in. No, not because of the massive amounts of calories I'd had bagged up, hell, the reason I was there was to get some comfort food.

The day started promisingly enough, with me enjoying my last hours at home before making the journey back into the city. I even went underwear shopping at another store (sadly I didn't find anything that caught my eye). With a skip in my step, I was on my way to meet Dave, another CraigsList friend who I'd been chatting with lately. He had a free place this afternoon, and welcomed me over for some fun.

When I finally met him, I was relieved at how cute he actually was. It's such a treat to meet someone and not recoil in horror at their appearence, if you had some pre-conceived notions about their looks. It happened to me a few times when I first started chatting with guys online, thankfully I hadn't made any plans to sleep with those ones, so I didn't have to make any bad scenes.

We got to his house, and pulled off our coats. He wandered inside, and I followed him to the stairs. He turned on his heel, leaned back against the door frame, and smiled.

I love the look a guy gives you when it's "time". His whole face changed, eyes penetrating mine, mouth firm but with relaxed lips, the slightest curve of a smile in the corners. Suddenly the boy who was cute and slightly shy a few minutes ago was sending me all sorts of signals. Two seconds later, our lips locked, and he was dragging me into the bedroom.

His hands moved all over my body as we kissed deeply, sliding under my shirt, into my pants, then popping my fly open. When he finally had my pants open, he dropped to his knees and pulled down my (sexy new 2xist blue) briefs (without even getting to appriciate me in them...) and was instantly sucking my cock. I was on cloud nine, and very turned on by the fact thtat he was so into what was going on. His entire attention was on me, and he held nothing back as he bobbed up and down.

By that time, I'd pulled off my shirt, and was completely naked, with him fully clothed. He stopped, pulled off his shirt and pants, and resumed sucking me off. It was pretty great, all in all, and when he stood up I held his naked body and kissed him. I'm starting to realize I'm much more into intimate sex than suck-you-off-and-blow-my-load type sex. We had a pretty good rythem going, between sucking each other and exploring each other's bodies.

Finally, we each blew our loads, and collapsed for a few seconds. I'll never understand why some guys immediately start getting dressed, I personally love to just lay there for a bit and catch my breath, and of course cuddle...sadly Dave seemed less than interested in making out while our cum dried on our bodies.

We went downstairs for a drink, and sat awkwardly at the kitchen table. I'm not really great at making post-sex conversation in this type of situation, so he did most of the talking, with me nodding along and asking a few questions about him. First, I asked if he was gay/bi, because he'd never said before. His answer surprised me a little, simply saying, "I've slept with more girls than guys."

"Ok, so how many guys?"

"Well, you. And one other one."

Ahhh...now things make more sense. As he started to tell me about his first experience, he could never maintain eye contact with me, much less look at me. Not that he was ignoring me, but he just didn't pay me any attention. This is the thing I'm beginning to understand that gay guys dislike about bi guys: once the sex is over, there's no more kissing, cuddling, or interest in the other guy. It's just over, and lets all pretend this didn't happen.

We finished our drinks, and he looked at me. I suggested one of two things, that he could either send me on my way, or that we could go back upstairs and get naked between the sheets again.

He hesitated. "Well...it's getting later, I mean nobody's home for another two hours, but..."

More hesitation. He looked to me, then the fridge, then the clock. "I guess we'd better call it a day."

I sighed inwardly. I felt a little disappointed. And that's what's been on my mind since leaving his place.

I understand the 'rules' of NSA sex, not to expect anything else to come of it, after the fluids are exchanged it's over and you should be on your way. But I can't help from hoping each time that the next guy I hook up with will want me to stick around after we're done, to cuddle, have dinner, watch TV...hang out...get to know each other...I mean I'm not shacking up with 35-year-olds, the guys I've spent time with are my age, so one would think they too might be interested in more than just sex.

So as I made my way home, I got more and more depressed about my situation. I came to the conclusion that I must want a boyfriend, because I don't seem to be getting the fufilment I'm looking for with the guy's I've been with so far. What's bothering me, I don't know (which in itself drives me crazy). But once I hit my doorstep, I just felt awful inside. Nothing seemed to be making any sense. I want to be with someone, but I can't find anyone because I'm not out, but I can get boys online, but they don't want to hold my hand after I've taken their load on my chest, but maybe I'll finally find someone I'm compatible with who wants the same thing I do, but that seems to break the 'rules' of NSA...

Then I called Lisa, because I didn't want to wind up alone for the evening. She told me about her weekend, and then about how much work she has to do for the rest of the week...and then she asked me what was wrong. I told her I didn't even know myself, but hoped we could talk soon about stuff. As I was talking to her, another guy invited me over to his place for the evening...