Wednesday, September 5, 2012

Like bunnies.

You will be happy, as I am, to know that I do not have HIV.

I am also cleared, as much as anyone can be, of genital herpes and genital warts.  I didn't get the blood test for syphilis because if I have it, I got it two years ago, and I would know.  On the other hand, if I got it recently, it wouldn't necessarily show immediately.  I'm vaccinated against Hepatitis B.  In a week I will have my results on chlamydia, gonorrhea, and HPV.


The last person I dated with any seriousness was Mike, and we started dating more than ten years ago.  Even then, by the time we started dating, we were already best friends.  I had no secrets left, no boundaries for him to cross except for the physical ones that I had be hoping for a year for him to approach.  Out of the four serious boyfriends I have had, only one of them was not already a good friend before anything romantic occurred.

I'm not saying that this, now, is serious.  But for the first time in four years, I'm not unwilling to entertain the possibility.  Satanist Dan was the recipient of a kind of desperate, needy, affection, and I had to fight my growing emotional attachment.  But I knew I needed to fight it.  I knew that there wasn't really anything there between us.  I was excited about H— once, but I don't remember any of it.  I don't think it lasted more than a week.  I tried to find a record of him on this blog, but all I could find was:

H: Boyfriend. But not unequivocally so. He might not be that into me. I might not be that into him. That second part might be because of the first, or it might not.

So this is the first time, really, that I've been able to observe things like, which intimacies do I guard closer than others?  The answer surprises me a little.

Because the last bastion of trust seems to be my bedroom.  He can't come in.

This is partly because I haven't cleaned, (despite his own messy apartment, I still dislike him being witness to mine), and partly because I am very self-conscious about other people being aware of the sex while I'm having it.  But those are only the superficial reasons.   I don't want him in my bed because I want it to still be my bed after he's gone.  I don't want a memory of us in that place. 

And, I dunno.  That seems kind of interesting.

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