-  Becky Rovner
    

Response 2021.11.01
I do want to be alone, as far as romantic relationships go. It is not a negative statement. I simply am happier experiencing the world alone right now. Perhaps unaccompanied says it better.
Bereft of even a dyadic friendship, I was forced to be single. Yes, I do have those souls that I love immensely (Sarah, Conor, Kate, Eileen, etc.) but we are not truly dyadic. I do not wish to deviate far from this point, so I will move on. In this imposed singularity, I slowly found comfort. I fell in love with the world rather than a person.
This has been infesting my head with a swarm of Africanized Thought Bees, viciously begging to be attended to in the aviary of my mind. What really catalyzed this reaction, made the Royal Honey necessary for the Thought Bee Queen, was last night with Kate. Before you get ahead of yourself, please refrain from any of your naughty thoughts. Love her, I do. Bed her, I won't.
However, before dismissing me early so that she could "study and sleep" (Because, obviously, that is exactly what wild and crazy college students do. Study and sleep). I was lying on her bed. She too was in a reclined position. And I hugged her back and shoulders because I needed solace from my immensely long day (which will be covered in a journal entry soon. Perhaps tomorrow). It derived an immensely safe and warm sensation from me, which I voiced. Though I know she tries to sometimes push these feelings away so she can be "freer," I think she felt at least a modicum of what I did, as she looked at me softly and sweetly. Her soul shined through before she could remember that it still could. Remarkable girl, that Kate.
This caused me to realize, quite plainly, that I do not get this sensation often, with many. Honestly, I can name the number of people I would be willing to let hold me on one hand. To kiss me? Actually, the same number, though depending on the kissing. More? Have we all been thoroughly acquainted with my psychological programming? Not going to happen, Chester!
So, here I have cancelled out physical want for romantic companionship, which is essential. The past several days have been immensely difficult in that respect, though not directed at any particular person (else you would know about it). To be released from the burden of my own hormones was more liberating than I had imagine.
Clearly, there is quite a bit more to relationships for me than simple physical comfort and touch. What an empty and useless person I would be then! I doubt very much that you should like to read the exploits and thoughts of such a person. If you should like to, you have come to the wrong place, I am not for you.
Emotionally, I am simply not ready for romance. Not again, not the way I love. True, I did try to date not a week ago. That is where the Thought Bee eggs came from. The epiphany of dyads Africanized these eggs. I realized that there isn't the person or situation in the necessary dosage and capacity in my life to create the needed psychic hormones to make me want to give my heart to another. Not right now, though spring and its effects are scheduled this very month. I have Claritin, psychoemotional allergens, do your worst!
Intellectually, I have numerous people who serve roles that fulfill me. I do not need someone else to enjoy my life. It is a very good life. I am not even looking for romance right now, perhaps for the first time in years. To be honest (prepare the hypocrite shields!), I am a trifle frightened of relationships and dating and do not seek to alter this.
I desire to have more friends. If you have actual romantic interest in me (and I know a few do), be my friend. Care for me, support me, hold me if you think I want to be held, but don't push. Do not loudly, publicly profess having fallen madly in love with me when you do not even know my middle name. Do not tell me I am the perfect male as you are setting yourself up for disappointment when I prove myself (and you, purposely) fallible. I am divinely interested in being flawed. Flawed diamonds have the loveliest rainbows trapped within. Do not, especially, touch me when and where I do not want you. I will cringe and hate the touch and resent the toucher. Do not suppose that, merely because I am sweet to you when others are not and have not been for years, that I am interested in you as anything more than an intriguing person I wish to count among friends and share metaphorical grains of rice with.
Do not say I am perfect for you. How do you think it must feel to have someone you think is perfect for you tell you they do not want to be with you or anyone? Spare yourself the pain and spare me having to console you and tritely reassure you that it is not you, it is me. It is me, I made a whole page about it!
Zack and Veronica said Irish Bird was perfect for me. Do understand how my subconscious fought with the idea that the perfect person for me could actually fear me? Granted, she obviously isn't perfect for me.
I am perfect for me. And it has taken me far too long to fully realize that.