I have a lot to say, and this is the easiest way for me to say it and make sure it all gets out. Please bear with me … I hope it’s not too much trouble.
I really really like you a lot – you’re smart, kind, funny, sexy, cocky, competent, admirable, intense, endearing, and exasperating. Sometimes I think you like me too, maybe for similar reasons. Then again, sometimes I’m pretty sure I just piss you off.
I don’t understand you at all. Can’t read you (never could), can’t predict you, can’t explain you. It’s part of what makes you so appealing and frustrating at the same time. I feel like I’m an open book to you; but the minute I start thinking I might know what’s going on with you it becomes very clear that I’m totally wrong. You don’t make sense to me. Not that that is necessarily a bad thing, but it does mean I feel off balance around you, which is disconcerting.
I’m overwhelmed by your generosity – both tangible and emotional – and I’m feeling like you’ve given more to me than you wanted; like I’m an obligation or an albatross. I don’t want to be an obligation (does anyone?), and I’m scared of albatrosses.
I’m sorry if ask for too much from you. I feel like I must come across as ridiculously needy, energy-sapping, whiny, unpleasant, and creepy. That’s not what I intend. I intend to do whatever it takes to have you in my life in a healthy, respectful, maybe even (dare I say it?) loving way
[1]. Apparently I’m not very good at getting what I intend, since right now, I don’t feel like I have it. Maybe that’s because I haven’t been able to articulate exactly what I want, or maybe it’s because you can’t/don’t want to give me what I want. Or maybe something else entirely. I’ll get back to this part.
Right now, I am not sure where I stand with you– how often I can call before you shut me out entirely again (this time for good), when it’s okay for me to see you (just you), when / where you are comfortable being seen with me, if I can ask for sex or if the initiation has to come from you, what I can and cannot say to the other folk(s) you’re seeing, what kinds of interaction aren’t going to send you packing… That’s a long complicated way to say I’m scared and confused. Scared of having fallen for you (again or perhaps still), and confused about what I’m supposed to be doing in all this.
I was floored when you told me out loud that I was “more than a fuck”, and ever since I’ve been trying to figure out exactly what that means. Does it mean I’m a fuck and a friend? Does it mean that I’m a significant fuck in a certain undefined way? Does it mean that I’m someone with whom you are occasionally able to be emotionally available?
[2] Your reaction to me thinking I was “just a fuck” was also more than a little surprising. I honestly had no idea that you thought of me as significant like that. I certainly do now (you made it abundantly clear), and maybe that’s what’s making this so weird. The last few days have made me question that feeling of significance… Like I said in one of my phone messages, I think I’m over-reacting and being stupid, I’m sorry to put all this on you and you should probably stop reading if this isn’t making sense. This entire letter is probably going to make everything that much worse, now that I think of it, but hell – I’m almost two pages into it already so I may as well keep going.
If I’m significant to you (and for the vast majority of the time you’ve been acting like I am), then where is the common courtesy? I really don’t want all of your time/energy/attention, despite how much I ask for. When I do ask for your attention at an inconvenient time, I’d much rather be told “no” flat out than put off or ignored. I’d rather hear “I’m really busy for the next few days – I’ll give you a call after Wednesday” than “I’ll call you later. ”
[3] Written down, the difference doesn’t seem like much, but when you say it out loud the difference is huge. When I see you out with HB (of whom I really am quite fond), the same common courtesy would dictate that you would say both “hello” and “goodbye” to me. When you don’t do that, I feel insignificant and rejected. “Look, there’s Trevor” followed by “You ready? … I have to go” doesn’t cut it.
[4] Insignificant- and rejected-feeling Trevor does not equal happy productive Trevor. And yes, occasionally I am hypersensitive. And yes, you should call me out on it. And no, I really don’t carry grudges, despite popular opinion. But please, at least be polite.
So I thought about everything for a few (or 6 or 8) hours today, and came up with a hypothesis about why you might prefer spending time with just about anyone else to spending time with me. I mean really, if I’m coming across as fucked up and needy and annoying as I think I am
[5], of course you would rather spend what little time you have to spare with someone who isn’t those things, and is cute, and low-key, and doesn’t ask for anything from you that you don’t want to give, and explicitly isn’t looking for a relationship, and is just out to have a good time in pretty much the same way you are
[6]. Why would any sane person bother herself with the basket case that is me when she can have a relaxing (relatively) stress-free weekend with someone like that? I don’t have a good answer for that, though I do think it captures a little of why I felt threatened by HB initially. Please don’t get defensive: I recognize that this hypothesis is all about my insecurities and my shit that I need to deal with. It’s nothing targeted at HB (or at you, for that matter.) You asked me to tell you what’s in my head and now I’m trying.
The part that doesn’t make sense for me is the combination of the things you do that make me feel like I am significant in your life with my hypothesis above. I can’t reconcile feeling special / important/ cared for with feeling like an unpleasant chore; it makes me wonder if I’m completely misinterpreting everything that has happened (in either go-round) between us that’s made me feel like I have value to you, or if I’m completely off my rocker regarding why you want to spend time with me. That sort of self-doubt is neither helpful nor productive, except insofar as it leads to long drawn-out letters like this one.
Once, we talked about what we both wanted out of this… at that point, if memory serves, you said (among other things) you wanted to have a good time, and weren’t looking for a relationship. I said I didn’t want to get married, and wanted respect. Has anything changed for you? On my end, what I said still holds true, though it needs to be amended and elaborated upon. I do want to be respected, and I’m not looking to settle down with one person who sees only me and live happily ever after with my 2.5 kids and my station wagon and my picket fence of whatever color. At least not now, and maybe not ever.
What has changed, though, is that I want not-getting-married to mean more than just casually dating you. Partly that’s because I don’t know if we could successfully just casually date – I for one have far too much emotional involvement with you already – and partly because I want some more specific boundaries on expectations and behavior. To be clear: I’m explicitly not asking for monogamy, nor do I want us to move in together (I quite like having my own space, thank-you-very-much), and I’m certainly not asking you to call me your girlfriend; that would be weird. I think what I want is to be, in some way, a ‘primary’ person in your life
[7]. I can’t say exactly what that looks like, and I don’t know if you’re even interested in exploring the concept with me. I do know that something needs to change between us for me to be okay. I don’t want things to keep going this way with me feeling shitty and you acting grouchy. That’s not even a friendship, much less a non-relationship.
So, yeah. I don’t know what you want – I’m getting mixed signals – and up until now, you couldn’t know what I want since even I didn’t know. If after reading this you’re still interested in talking to me, I’d really like to sit down and figure out where we’re going, regardless of whether or not that leads to me getting what I want. At this point, I’d rather have you in my life in whatever capacity you can be there than not have you in my life at all again. If this is enough for you – if in fact I have pushed you too far yet again, and you’re done, and you would rather this just be over, I’d appreciate it if you’d tell me that right away so I can send you a check and your stuff and then quietly go away without leaving any loose ends to worry about. Hmmm… This is coming out as a sort of ultimatum, which wasn’t at all my intention when I started writing… shit. I don’t know if it’s possible for you to read it this way, but I was trying to construct this as the beginning of a conversation, not an end.
[8]
I’m going to repeat that first part I wrote one more time ‘cause I think it’s important that you hear it again… though chances are good it will just push you farther away. I’m really inordinately fond of you. You’ve gotten into my head and my heart and my pants and I can’t sleep without dreaming of you and I can’t work because I’m thinking about you and I wonder and I worry and I daydream – damn you – I can’t even let myself fall in love with you even though that’s right where I’m headed. Do you have any idea how frustrating and soul-consuming and wonderful and terrifying and dizzying that is? You are irreplaceable, and I want you in my life so badly I can taste it. You make my heart race and my palms sweat and my blood pressure skyrocket, and all you have to do is walk into the room.
I don’t know if that clears anything up or just makes it worse, but it feels a little better to get it all down on paper. If that’s not opening myself up, I don’t know how.
Your very own charming basket case,
Trevor
[1] If that last phrase doesn’t send you running away, I don’t know what will. Too bad. I’ve fallen hard for you, and as much as you might detest the word, at this particular moment that comes out as love. Don’t worry; I’m sure it’ll pass. Like a kidney stone. But that’s really why I’m writing all this – because I want you around.
[2] I have a feeling that the answer to all of the above might be yes, but then again, most every time I think I might know your answer I’m wrong.
[3] To be completely honest, either of these is preferable to simply not answering your phone.
[4] Especially when earlier in the week you had mentioned spending time with me in bed this weekend; to anticipate that and then not hear from you all weekend (except when I bumped into you two together at the coffee shop) hurt my feelings. My immediate response was along the lines of “fuck that – she’s too busy to call me back, but she can make time to take HB’s dog to the park? Is dog park time really better than fucking (or sleeping with or having sex with) Trevor time??” Don’t worry, I got over the initial response fairly quickly, but it did get me thinking. Thus the essay you’re reading.
[5] For an example, see the immediately preceding paragraph.
[6] I don’t know any of these things about HB for sure; I’m inferring them from what little I do know. And just so you know, HB and I didn’t spend the whole night we were out talking about you or even about our respective dealings with you. We did a little, sure, but the majority of our conversation was about family stuff and our histories of drug use and how we both feel about fighting. I like HB, and bear her absolutely no ill will. This isn’t about her – it’s about you and me.
[7] That’s a terrifying thing for me to ask from you. Terrifying enough that while I write this I’m convinced that after you read it you won’t talk to me ever ever again. I mean, you have commitment issues and I have abandonment issues… doomed from the start, eh? Though, if I’m right about this being ‘it’’, it’s really a shame for you – I’m pretty neat, and you’d be missing out. If I’m wrong, maybe there is a benevolent deity and the world isn’t doomed after all. There was a point, a couple of weeks ago – when you were shaving me, marking me (over my heart of all places), and really talking to me (through those cracks in your wall) - when I felt like something approaching primary was a real possibility; that was actually the point that the idea came into my head for the first time. I didn’t figure out how to really say it until tonight, and I’m still not sure if I’m explaining myself clearly. Maybe I misunderstood the whole thing. Could you let me know?
[8] This is why I was never good at this sort of writing… give me 19th century German phenomenology or a project doing exegesis on colonization of the body, or anything but trying to explain my emotions and ask for what I want.
