Yelling "Stop it!" in my dreams

I wrote Debbie today to tell her how I woke myself up abruptly this morning.

My dearest darling, 

... I woke myself up this morning a little after 4:30 by shouting in my sleep. I was dreaming that I was at some kind of family get-together and my father was following me around to talk to me. I was feeling a lot of aversion and moved from room to room, but he finally positioned himself in a way that it was awkward to get past him so that he could keep talking to me. As I tried to shift around him he put out his hand and caught my arm a couple times to stay me. Finally I asked him to let go and he did; but then when I started to move he caught my arm again and I shouted “Stop it!” … thus waking myself up. It took me a little bit to come to myself and remember where I was; I still felt a little hot, burning knot somewhere between my heart and my throat, and I could still feel the spot on my arm where he had held me. So I got up and found some paper to write it all down (which is why I remember so much detail now), thinking as I wrote “So I wonder if that’s where the old family story came from that says ‘Hosea loves solitude’ … if it was just an excuse to get away from that?” ....

Till then, loving you now and ever,Hosea

She replied with this.

Dear Hosea, my love,

What a powerful dream to wake up to...! I actually think this strong energy yelling "Stop it!" is a wonderful thing and very healthy. From what you have told me, you have lived your entire life, until you moved into your apartment earlier this year, in close relationship with someone who has no idea what healthy personal boundaries are... first your father and then Wife. So it is cause to celebrate that you are finding your voice! And it reminds me how important this time living alone is for you. Helps me be patient. Getting solidly grounded in your solitude and aloneness (defined by my professor as our relationship with ourselves) is hugely valuable and beneficial. At least that is my experience over the past 4-5 years. It is life changing to surround oneself with people who understand or are at least working towards healthy relationship boundaries and to minimize time spent with people who don't. Again, my experience....

all my love,Debbie

      

Happy Halloween

 

I want a drink

I mentioned that Debbie stayed with me over the weekend.  I should add that for three days I didn’t drink. 

Mind you, Debbie doesn’t drink.  She’s a Buddhist, and she decided somewhere along the line that alcohol really didn’t make her feel all that good.  Besides, the Buddhist teaching is that if you use alcohol to make yourself feel better (and really, isn’t that the whole point?) then you’d be better off keeping your full mental faculties undimmed so you can figure out why you don’t feel good in the first place.  Once you’ve figured it out you can fix THAT (whatever it is) and feel good permanently rather than having to mask your unhappiness with booze.  It even makes a kind of sense.

Debbie’s never asked me not to drink around her, but I just don’t.  And when she’s with me, I don’t feel like I need to.  We cook, we clean up, we talk, we kiss, we hold each other, we fall into bed … not once in all this time does my mind feel like it wants a drink.  I’m perfectly happy just spending time with her.

But tonight, after she’s driven back home, it’s all different.  I don’t know why.  I can tell that I’m feeling anxiety about the evening, because my throat and my chest are just a teeny bit more constricted than they were last night.  It’s not fear or terror; it’s not a huge reaction.  It’s subtle.  But it’s there.  And it makes my mind whisper to me, “We wants a drink, precious. Be a love and pour us something.”

Am I afraid of spending the evening alone?  It’s hard for me to understand or imagine that.  As far as I know I LIKE being alone: that is to say, I love Debbie and it’s a delight to spend time with her; but there is something deeply restful and relaxing when she leaves and I know I’ll have the apartment all to myself for a few nights.  I’ve always felt that way, since I was very young.  I’ve always needed to get away from other people from time to time, to get the kind of peace and quiet that come only from deep solitude.  It’s part of what makes me wish I had discovered meditation thirty or forty years ago.  Naturally there are times that it’s useful to have someone else around, but only sometimes.  I’m not expecting some kind of natural disaster between now and tomorrow morning, where I’m going to need the second set of hands.  I’m not expecting anything but the peace and quiet that I know I’ll have.

Only, … in that case why the subtle, almost-too-faint-to-notice-but-nonetheless-very-real tightness in my throat and chest?  In that case why do I need a drink?  I don’t know.  Logically it makes no sense.  I shouldn’t have to have a drink, and knowing that I feel like this worries me just a little.  Maybe I’ll ignore the feeling.  Maybe if I go to bed early I’ll fall asleep before drinking anything, and I know that every night I don’t drink makes the next night easier.  That sounds like a good plan, actually.

Oh hell, let’s see if any of my glasses are clean, or if I have to wash one of them first ….

Old man

Debbie was in town over the weekend, and stayed with me all three nights (Friday through Sunday).  She spent the days working while I went to a meditation retreat (more about that in the next couple of posts), but we spent the nights together.  And in her own way Debbie is every bit as sexual as D used to be.  She’s not as overt about it: she can find other things to talk about, she doesn’t work sex into all of her musings about spirituality, she doesn’t give off the same vibe of single-minded obsession that D used to.  But all it takes is one long, lingering kiss and she’s ready.  Since I’m fond of holding her and kissing her, this means she spends a lot of time around me in various states of arousal.

And every time we are together it seems like I can do less and less about it.  Oh, we kiss and cuddle; we strip off our clothes and frolic; I do everything I can with fingers and lips and tongue, although Debbie is more sensitive than D used to be so I have found that I have to be a lot slower and more delicate or I risk hurting her with too much too soon.  Still, I’m figuring out the right touch, and I do everything I can in that direction.

What I don’t do is to get hard.  It pisses me off.  It embarrasses me.  It makes Debbie say concerned things like, “Maybe this is about trust: do we need to talk?”  And the answer is No, we don’t bloody well need to talk.  All we need to do is fuck.  It’s not about trust.  It’s not even about passion: if my desire had its way I would fuck her hard in every direction and devour her whole.  But I can’t.  I don’t know why not.

I suppose it is something physiological.  I suppose it’s related to being in my fifties.  I suppose I ought to ask my doctor for a prescription for Pfizer’s little blue pills.  Or maybe it’s caused by one of a dozen other ailments that bedevil old men.  I have no idea.

But Debbie is uncomfortable with the idea of a Viagra-induced artificial sexuality.  She says she is more comfortable with whatever I can do for her naturally, even if it is less.  I don’t know, we only had the discussion once.  Maybe I should raise it again.  But I understand her sentiment that prefers what is natural to what is artificial, other things being equal at any rate.  It’s the same sentiment that makes me subtly uncomfortable with women shaving off their body hair, and Debbie – bless her! – actually agrees with me on that point.  When we first got together she was shaving just because she had gotten into the habit of it somewhere along the line.  And she still figures that as long as she has to wear hose professionally she has to shave her legs.  But once she knew that I was content for her to quit the rest of it, she did.

Maybe this means by the same token that I’ll have to remain un-Pfizered.  But that in turn means that my hard-ons are soft and flabby and unreliable.  It means that the only time I get truly, intensely stiff is when I wake up first thing in the morning and have a column of piss pushing my dick into shape.  It means there is only so much I can do to satisfy a woman seven years older than I am who nonetheless puts my sexual performance to shame.

Getting old is no fun.  Who knew it was going to happen so soon?

Busy, busy month

It's been a busy, busy month, and doesn't look to be letting up.  But it's all good.

Two weekends ago, Hogwarts and Durmstrang each held Parents' Weekend (yes, the same weekend).  Wife went to Durmstrang but couldn't work out the drive to Hogwarts.  I went to both, but on a schedule that meant I didn't cross paths with Wife for more than about half an hour.  Both boys seem to be doing well.  Son 1 is a Senior and is applying to colleges.  Son 2 is a Sophomore.  I asked their respective advisors if they have seen any indication of bitterness or resentment about the split, or about our giving up the house they grew up in.  Both said No.  Son 1's advisor said "He's pretty much a 'What you see is what you get' kind of kid, and he hasn't expressed anything of the kind."  Son 2's advisor said, "If anything I think he's relieved that it's over."  Son 1 did ask me (as I was driving him to my place for a short break) to drive past the old house so we could see what the new owners are doing with it.  But that's all.

Last weekend my cousin got married in another state, so I drove ten hours to the town where he lives -- he and his wife, his sister (another cousin) and her partner, their parents (my aunt and uncle), another aunt, ... lots of family, come to think of it.  It was great to see them all.  I found myself telling the story of my separation with Wife several times, along with why I had hung in there so long.  Everyone was supportive; my aunt summed up the general attitude when she said, "I guess I'm not supposed to say this kind of thing, but I was so glad when I heard that you and Wife were splitting up, because I thought 'Now he can get on with his life!'"  And I told everybody about Debbie.  They want to meet her.  Oh, and one more cousin was there just for the wedding ... she invited me to come and visit her and her family (husband and son) in Peru, next time I get a chance.  I'm hoping to find one.

After a couple days visiting everyone I drove to yet another city well out of my way, where Debbie was at a Buddhist retreat where she was being ordained into a lay order associated with the spiritual path she is on.  I couldn't join her for the whole retreat, but I could be there for the ceremony ... which I enjoyed and which meant a lot to her.

I guess I actually showed up to work for a couple days after that, remarkably enough.

This weekend I am taking Son 1 to visit the college at the top of his list.  They are having an Open House, and so he spent the day talking to professors and students and having a wonderful time.  He was already pre-sold on the place and now he is even farther sold.  I'm looking at the price tag and having dark and gloomy thoughts (it's a very expensive school) but Son 1 is thrilled beyond belief.

Oh, and there's been a film festival going on in town every Wednesday.  And I've started going to another meditation class every Thursday.  And there's something else coming up again next weekend ... I think Debbie will be in town for a couple of days.  Next month I'll spend a week travelling for work, and then Son 1 has a week off for Thanksgiving and wants to spend the time camping.  And then it will be December, ....

Busy, busy, busy.

Some of this (like the college trip) would have happened anyway.  But most of this I would never have found myself doing as long as I was still with Wife.  I suppose it can't go on at this pace (or I'll wear out, for one thing).  But it is giddy and fun and I love it.

Paying your bills on time (a dialog of text messages)

Hosea:  AT&T just sent me an email that the mobile phone bill is overdue.

Wife:  I haven't paid bills this week getting ready for the weekend. [Son 2 has a week-long break from school, all of it with Wife. Also I guess she has other things going on too.]  Will pay them all Sunday.  My service is so bad I think I should get a 50 percent discount.  Hopefully this will be the last full month.  [She wants to cancel this plan and get a new one.]

Hosea:  Unfortunately it still counts as late despite all that.  Don't you keep track of when your bills are due, to avoid this???

Wife:  No.  I'm still trying to unpack the study and just unearthed the vertical file in which I kept all those things.  [You will recall that she moved over a month ago; how long does this take?]  All mail requiring my attention is currently in a big pile, apart from the big pile of filing and the other one of information.  This week I haven't done any paperwork and only just looked for the e-mails you sent me.  I'm just moving in and spent today cleaning so Son 2 won't be absolutely ill when I pick him up in the morning.  Still didn't finish, so will get up at 5:00am to try some more before I get him at 8:00.  Other stuff budgeted this weekend, though, include my nephew bringing a rocker back, so not till Sunday or Monday morning and then there's other stuff on the schedule too, so I have to squeeze in business including sending a budget to you AFTER I call City Hall again, into the mix ASAP.

Hosea:  Whatever.  Just remember that none of what you have said stops you from getting in trouble when your bills are late, so I would have thought you'd want to prevent that from happening.  But you're a big girl so you get to make your own decisions.