advice from a stranger

Last night the best girlfriend and I went out to our favorite Mexican restaurant (after the Texan bailed on me... for the second night in a row!), where we know the waitstaff and the owner. We always have a good time, the vibe is laid-back and fun, and the free shots and margaritas don't hurt either. (I would feel worse about this did the staffers not also drink with us and did we not hang out outside the restaurant as well.. but they do and we do, so I'm OK with it.) The best girlfriend had called a mutual friend and his roommate to come join us - primarily because she liked the mutual friend and he's been flirting with her all semester long. He's a good-hearted, ridiculously handsome guy, and she asked me to make sure she didn't get in too deep with anything, being so fresh from the breakup, but she wanted some attention. Since I know him so well also, I assumed we would all be OK, and I knew I could call him off if need be. He brought his roommate, making it a kind of funny, awkward psuedo-double date. Of course, his roommate (my "date") has a girlfriend, so we were basically the wingmen... wing-people... Whatever.

Anyway, while my girl and our friend were talking and flirting, I started talking with his roommate, who I don't think I've ever said a word to before, but who struck me as a genuinely nice guy. We were talking about our mutual dislike for giant discotecas here, and I mentioned my particular experience the night before. I had gone out with basically the entire program (some hundred of us) to an overpriced, overcrowded disco. I was sober, and not particularly in the mood to be there, but I was, in fact, making an effort to have a good time. Crush was there, along with a fellow program-mate who has been, of late, hooking up (I've seen them making out, but I hear there is more that goes on as well) with the boy I kind of liked when I first got to Spain. Anyway... This girl and Crush were just all. over. each. other.

Generally, this wouldn't bother me so much, but combined with the shitty situation of the night, I just cracked. I don't even particularly think anything will happen with Crush, nor does it need to, but it's still less than fun to watch someone you're attracted to all over someone you don't like. I left shortly after and went home alone.

So I was telling my fellow wingman about this (including the girl's name, who we had been discussing, but omitting Crush's name intentionally), and he asked me who Crush was. I wouldn't tell him. He insisted. I told him it doesn't matter, since nothing is going to happen, and I leave in a week anyway. He persisted, and shared a secret of his own, and I caved and told him Crush's name. (On a side note, why is it that sharing secrets makes us feel more bonded and trustworthy? I suppose that's mostly rhetorical, as it's pretty obvious, but still...) That sparked a conversation about what a nice guy Crush is, and I mentioned my concern that he's basically out to get everyone to like him. Which there's nothing inherently wrong with, I just as of late have been questioning how genuine he's been with me. (That isn't out of the blue... other things have transpired that I haven't written about.)
Wingman: Well, have you told him?
Me: Who? Crush? That I like him? Of course not.
Wingman: Well, maybe you should.
Me: Yeah, thanks. I think I'll pass. There isn't really a point anyway.
Wingman: But if you don't tell him, then he can't do anything about it. And then you'll go home always wondering what if.
Me: But... but.. I mean... *whimper*
Wingman: He's a really nice guy. He's not going to shoot you down. And you'll be angry at yourself if you don't take the chance.
Me: OK. Hypothetically, were I to do this. What do I even say? I don't want to come off like some love-sick puppy or a clingly stalker. Imagine you're him. What do I say? How would you want someone to tell you they like you?
Wingman: Let's see. I'm Crush. There's a girl that likes me, and how would I want her to tell me she likes me? I'd want her to be honest. Tell me how she feels when she's with me. I'd want to know if I make her smile when we're together. I'd want to know if there was some single moment when she realized she liked me as more than a friend. And I'd want her to tell me how often she thinks about me. Those are the things that matter. That's what I'd want to hear.

And I was a little taken aback. It was so honest, and sweet, and, near as I can tell, spot-on. Applicable in just about any situation. Maybe it was just seeing his expression soften a little, hearing his tone change, but what he said went straight to my heart. It really took hold. I was thinking about it, and I think that's something any person would like to know. Who wouldn't want to hear that? I don't think it comes off crazy or obsessive. I think it comes off as maybe just vulnerable enough to be sincere.

I'm still not sure if I'm actually going to have this conversation with Crush, but I think what wingman said might be the best advice I've ever gotten from a relative stranger. It's something I'd want to hear. It's something I'd like to say someday. I think it's something just about anyone would want to hear.

Reflections II

Just a short post this evening. There might be one more of these reflection posts in the works... and this one has little to do with sexuality, but I suppose that's what you get when I get rambly and preoccupied with moving back across the ocean.

In other news, I hope everyone is having or had a fantastic Thanksgiving spent with the people you wanted to spend it with and being grateful for all that all of us are lucky enough to have. So here, some things I will miss (and yes, was lucky to enjoy while I was here).

Things I will miss:
The Texan
Professors who swear, drink, and laugh with their students
Gorgeous international men
Gorgeous international women
My favorite Mexicans (at my favorite restaurant here)
Students willing to set aside cliques and make new friends
Hot foreign accents
Legal equality and social acceptance for many queer identities (admittedly not all)
Speaking Spanish daily
Meeting new people daily
Paella, Tortilla Española, y Sangria
Easy access to the rest of Europe
Living in a home where my Señora cares when I come home
Crush
My best girlfriend here
Ireland
Automatically being worldly and different because I'm not European
Worldly, different, European points of view

Things I will NOT miss:
Catty cliques that are apparently an international phenomenon
Not eating a meal between 9am and 10pm
Crappy internet connections
Two-midterm semesters
Different grading standards (while still officially working with an American GPA system)
Speaking Spanish everyday
Being closeted to most of the people around me
Three words: Dollar to Euro.
Settling for digital conversations with real friends
Not having a cell phone
Sharing a bedroom
Automatically being different because I'm not European

on love and friendship

...and where and when the two intersect.

I should give some background here. I have a (by some standards terrible) habit of dating, fucking, and/or falling in love with my friends. Not all of them, mind you, but friends who I haven't at least kissed are absolutely in the minority. Everyone I've seriously dated or really fallen for has been a friend first. Well, I guess Ex is sort of the exception, as he and I met when we were first starting high school. It did take us almost a semester of pretending we liked each other just as friends, though, before we started dating. P is without question one of my best friends, and I've never been able to separate how much of that is fueled or complicated by the fact that we're in love with each other. Friend is someone I've known for more than half my life, as is Essin' Em, and both M and nonboyfriend I've known for many years just as friends before anything physical ever happened. The women I've slept with (Essin' Em being the exception), I generally haven't known as long, but I'll go ahead and chalk that up to not embracing my queerness anywhere near as early as I embraced the part of me attracted to men.

There is undoubtedly something subconscious about this habit, I think. I'm sure it has something to do with how comfortable I am with my friends, and the fact that when I become friends with someone, I tend to remain so indefinitely... I would usually include the caveat "barring any major transgressions," but more than one of these friends/FwBs and I have had serious falling-outs and continue to speak and, in some cases, have sex. (Obviously, we've worked through our issues, for better or worse.) Not everyone I've had sex with has been an old friend, but almost all of those I've had sex with more than once or twice have been. It's easier to date/fuck friends. You don't have to worry about the awkward getting-to-know-you stage, because it's already out of the way. I'm generally very open about sexuality with my friends (I'm sure you're shocked), so it isn't taboo to essentially take it to the next level.

There are, of course, some downfalls to this tendency. Most people would say that sleeping with your friends has the potential to ruin the friendship, and theorhetically I agree. But by and large I haven't experienced that. That's not to say that I'm somehow superior to these people who "can't manage" that kind of relationship, but maybe it does say something about the nature of my friendships. Maybe I only establish significant friendships with people I could have feelings for. I don't know. Maybe I confuse the more platonic, friend-based love, for romantic, sexual or physical love. That's a very real possibility. And one I've been starting to question. I can't decide if it's a problem or not. My insticts tell me that if I haven't had a moral problem with it thus far (and neither have the friends involved... this isn't a one-sided equation), then I shouldn't start now. But then I wonder if I'm somehow limiting myself, or protecting myself, by only being with these people I know so well and who know me.

Certainly, I'm less likely to get hurt this way. If we already have some substantial trust established, then it's that much easier to be vulnerable with said partner. But is that really what relationships are about? And what's more, are these even truly romantic relationships? Or have these all simply been friends with benefits situations? And is there anything wrong with that?

This is all sparked by a turn of events over the past few weeks. About two weeks ago, I went to northern Spain on a class field trip to ride horses and hike. It was a great time, especially since I so love riding. As I mentioned in my HNT post from that week, I was going without Crush or anyone else to snuggle up with and keep me warm. I was, however, going with Crush's roommate, who we'll from here on out refer to as The Texan. The Texan and I have a few classes together, and have been bonding as of late. We hang out a lot, and (again, as a consequence of my super-openness about sexuality), he recently came out to me as bisexual. I was excited to have a fellow in the program (which might sound weird, but it's nice to know you're not the only one) and then kind of flabergasted when he told me that he's not out to ANYONE ELSE. On a side-note, he's by no means the first person who's come out to me before anyone else... I'd love to say it's because I'm so open or accepting or something, but I don't know. I do take it pretty seriously, though, and when I'm asked to keep the information quiet, I do so. (Again, the advantages of blogging anonymously. Yay!) Anyway... he and I have been spending quite a bit of time together since he came out to me, and he's been a really amazing friend. We've become ridiculously close in a short amount of time.

So the second night of this class trip in northern Spain, the Texan and I went out to a bar together. He poured out his heart to me about his (non-exclusive) boyfriend back home, we talked about it, he started asking me about my love life. So I talked to him about Crush. (Who is, again, The Texan's roommate here in Spain.) Basically, The Texan let me down easy. Telling me Crush does really like hanging out with me, so on and so forth, but that he doesn't think it goes any farther. And I was surprisingly OK with that. I pushed the issue a little farther, though, and asked about if I just wanted to make out with Crush - pointing out that I wasn't looking for a relationship or anything serious. "Oh, well, yeah, that you could totally do!" The Texan responded emphatically. I thought it was relatively funny at the time, and we went on drinking.

Upon further examination, I decided something, though. (And this was, actually, largely facilitated by The Texan.) I don't want to be someone's backup. I don't want to be just good enough. I want to be worth having. I AM worth having. And I'm tired of settling for people who are settling for me. I don't have to.

So that has kind of changed my perception on Crush. He actually hasn't done anything wrong, and I'm not in the least angry with him. I intend to keep hanging out with him and enjoying his company. I just don't expect anything more. And I think that's a good thing.

Then last week, the night before I left for Denmark, The Texan texted me and asked if I'd come out with him for a few drinks. We always have a blast together, and tend to be similarly lush when it comes to consumption of alcohol, so of course I accepted. Granted, it was a Wednesday night, so the bars were less than hopping. But it was actually a fantastic opportunity to really talk. We went bar-hopping, and spent most of the time talking about our various pasts (the advantage of making new friends is that there's never a shortage of stories to tell), and talking a lot about sexuality. I asked him if it was hard being closeted, he answered with suprising honesty. There was more bar hopping.

And then, I couldn't tell you how, we were kissing. Really kissing. His hands on my chin, pulling me to him, my arms around his shoulders. It was the frenzied (admittedly drunken) passionate kind of kiss that I haven't experienced in quite some time. And, to quote Jay Brannan "his kiss matched mine so perfectly..." After leading my by hand to what was our fourth bar of the night, we took a cab home - which he insisted on taking with me to my place even though it would make it twice as expensive for him. I tried to convince him otherwise, and he looked at me like I was crazy for thinking he'd leave without knowing I was home safely. It was unnecessary, but a nice gesture nonetheless. There was a kiss goodbye in the cab, and then we each went our separate ways.

So here's the catch. I felt incredibly guilty the next morning. The details of the end of the evening are a little fuzzy (hence why they weren't more detailed in my recounting) but the things I remember are quite clear. I don't think the kissing arose from anything particularly romantic, and have a sneaking suspicion it was one of those "let's be those obnoxious people in the bar who seem really happy making out with each other." To the best of my recollection, it was a simple friendly makeout session. I've had countless. So I can't quite figure out why this time is making me feel so guilty.

Well, that's not entirely true. I think I feel like I took advantage of him. And while I don't know whose idea it was to start making out, and I know he was obviously not complaining too much, as he was kissing back, I feel like I have all this information about him, and he's trusted me with it, and what do I do? I jump him. (Well, not exactly. But you all know what I mean.)

I need your help here. I've talked to him about the night and we're both avoiding it and I don't want to make it awkward for either of us. (Our conversation wasn't in the least uncomfortable, though.) So, provided that talking to him about it isn't an option... what do I do about this guilt? Is it warranted in the first place?

*lesigh.*

everything.

I apologize for my absence of late. I've been busy making up missed midterms, trying not to discount people before I even give them a chance, stressing over the rest of my life, visiting Ireland, then debating whether to ever come back. Somewhere in there, sex kind of fell by the wayside.

Sex in every context, really. I haven't been doing much thinking about sexuality lately... I haven't been to my sexuality class in two weeks as I missed one while I was in Ireland (it's a once-weekly, three-hour long class). And Crush has been hot and cold, and I don't know what to make of it. Sometimes I think I simply overanalyze every interaction he and I have (which is very much like me) and sometimes I think he's just as shy as I am, because I catch him stealing glances at me and making silly excuses to talk to me. Which makes me feel a little less silly for doing the same, but doesn't help me in deciphering what the hell I should do about it. I know how to seduce people, for the most part. I know how to take friends to the FwB level. But starting this all blind, with someone new? I'm lost. And my self-confidence issues won't let me believe that maybe he is interested.

Even so, I don't know what I'd want out of it. I've already written that I don't think I'll be having sex before I leave Spain, because I don't think the one-night stand is what I need right now. Granted, someone to cuddle with, and be obnoxiously adorable on the Metro with, and to make sure I got home at night would be wonderful, but I don't even know if that's an option. Do people even do that anymore? Have my standards just deteriorated to the point that I don't bother considering things like that, let alone requesting or expecting them? Does that make me.... I don't know. Something? Anything? Nothing?

And to top off the non-sex, I haven't even been horny lately. I usually operate at a somewhat elevated level, arousal-wise. (Somehow, talking and writing and thinking about sex all the time will do that to a person. Who knew?) That hasn't been the case as of late. I haven't even wanted any me-time. I don't know what's going on with me. I feel like my body is acting separate from my head. And I don't like it.

In unrelated news, I spent five days in Ireland last week. It was, without question, one of the most incredible experiences of my life. I hope to write another post about it soon... But I did get myself a new peacoat. From a store called Sasha. No joke. And this coat replaced the since-discarded heavy black wool coat from Ex. This is the exact opposite. I'm thinking it will be the subject of a future HNT post. I also found the rest of my next tattoo in Ireland. That sounds strange, I know, but when I get inked back home, I'm sure that will be an HNT picture, as well.

Travel-wise, I've also just booked a flight to Denmark. I'm excited about it, as it will be my first time back to my native homeland (well, my father's - Far's - native homeland) since I was four years old. It should be a good trip, although likely really damn cold, as I'm going in mid-November. *shiver.* My Danish relatives are taking me to Tivoli (which I have numerous ties to anyway), and around Copenhagen... my cousin has an old 1940's truck that apparently is a popular thing to rent out for high school graduations and drive around the city, and they promised to tour the city with me in that. If anyone else has been slash lives in Denmark and has suggestions... I'll be there for four or five days, so there is plenty of time to check things out... and I'd love the suggestions!

I suppose that's all I have for now. Today was a hard day. I have those a lot. Granted, there are also days where everything is glorious and perfect. It seems to be one extreme or the other these days.

Besos,

all up in my space

I've had more than a few problems with personal space while I've been abroad. I know I'm in a vastly different culture, where people kiss upon first introductions, where you push through people on the Metro, regardless of whether they're actually in your way or not, and where the private and public spheres are very much blurred. For the most part, I try to go with the flow. But as of late, I've been incredibly cautious - frightened, really - of anyone getting in my personal space. Physically or emotionally.

I purposefully didn't tell anyone about Kirsten's death. Well, I told my professors, so they could understand why I wasn't in class or in case I had to leave to take a call, but I really only told my roommate and my one other friend in this program. Until I went on this damn field trip. My one friend, who came on the trip as well, reminded me that on Friday night, I had a little too much wine to drink and told several classmates about what had happened. I called for a toast "a mi prima," and then answered questions about why we were toasting to the memory of my cousin. I regretted doing so as soon as I got back to school.

I love and very much need my friends. I'm a highly social creature, bordering on codependent. I want nothing more these past few days than to see my old friends, feel their embrace, curl up in bed and watch a movie with a certain person or other. But none of them are here, of course. And since I haven't really connected with anyone here in such a significant way, I haven't wanted anyone to touch me. At all. That was my primary motivation for not telling people. I don't want pity hugs. I don't want people who spend most of their time making an effort to ignore me to suddenly pretend they're concerned with my well-being. I don't need that kind of attention. I don't want that insincerity in my life, now or ever. So I've simply been going without. I literally hadn't touched anyone for a week and a half. Until today.

Here's the backstory. I'm the editor in chief of our program's bi-semester...ly newspaper/magazine. I organize articles, edit them, and, of course, keep on top of writers (students) to make sure they're on deadline. One of those deadlines was last night for the first round of copy. Writers were to have sent their completed stories to my personal email by midnight. I got about half the stories, and the majority of the others featured elaborate explanations about why this story or that story would be late. (Usually, this would drive me crazy, but unsurpisingly with my recent re-prioritization, it doesn't matter much.) Among these emails from writers was one from a fellow program student who attends a university back in Colorado. He and I have talked twice perhaps, since I'm from Colorado and he goes to school there (while I go to school in his home state, ironically), and he's on the paper, and we have a class together. We're facebook friends, but have never had a conversation outside the school building or academic subject matter.

There was an email from him. Here's how it started:

Sasha,

How are you? I was so terribly sorry to hear about your loss. I can't imagine what you're going through right now, and that such an awful thing has happened to you and your family. I've been wanting to tell you in person, and I will, but please, if there's anything I can do to make this easier on you, don't hesitate to ask. Really, anything at all...

And it made me smile, partially because it seemed sincere, and partially because it was unsolicited. I didn't tell him what happened, he wasn't on the trip... he just heard what had happened and was writing to check in.

Then, this morning, he pulled me aside in the hallway. Touched my arm, (I don't know if I was visibly taken aback by the physical contact), asked if I got his email. I said I did, and thanked him for it. He asked me how I was holding up. Told me he was impressed that I was at school, and about how strong I was being. Then he told me he'd read some of the things posted online about Kirsten, and mentioned specifics about the work she was doing. Said I should be proud to call such an incredible person my relative. Asked if I was really doing OK. I confessed that I'm a mess, and he asked, again, if there was anything at all he could do to help. I politely declined. We chatted for another moment or two, me avoiding his blue eyes which weren't moving from their focus on mine. Shuffling a little awkwardly as he placed a hand on my arm, and stayed there, less than an arm's length from my body. It was the closest I've been to anyone in a long time. As I looked down at the ground one more time, he asked me if I was really sure there was nothing he could do. I met his eyes, and stumbled over my words.

"Maybe this is weird, cause I know you don't me very well or anything, but, I mean, can I... can I have a hug?"

He smiled warmly, without a hint of irony or mockery. He hadn't finished saying "of course" before his arms were wrapped around me. I buried my face in his shoulder and neck as he tightened his grip. I took a deep breath in, for the most part of him.

As I pulled away, I felt a smile at the corners of my lips. "Thank you," I managed.

"Anytime," he said. "Really, I have an unlimited supply of hugs. If you need more, or someone to talk to..."

"You'll be the first to know," I finished his sentence.

He stayed standing close to me, still very much in my personal space. But for the first time in two weeks, I didn't feel nervous, being so close. I didn't mind him being there. Nor did I mind when he touched my shoulder as we walked down the stairs together after another class.

I'd very much like to think he was/is sincere. The hug felt real. It was warm, and comforting, and like what I'd expect from a real friend. And the fact that he took the time to not only write me, or find me in the building, or talk to me, but also to (maybe via Facebook stalking? I'd posted a link) read what's been written about Kirsten, to absorb it, to be able to talk to me about it... I hardly know what to make of it. I'm not used to people, especially here, being so compassionate.

And maybe that means I'm jaded. I wouldn't be surprised. But it also, thus far, has kept me from getting hurt. Or so I've felt. But now, well, I hate to prove my teachers right, but maybe I should let people here surprise me. Cautiously.

And who knows, maybe I'll take him up on his offer to talk. And for more hugs. It can't be a bad thing, right?