Yesterday, Ben and Gabriel both commented on my mood, saying I seemed less than excited, and man, if they could only see me today. It's so terrible, poor heat, always getting the blame for everything, but dude, seriously, I am going to blame my moodiness on the heat. Today, I am so crabby. Happiness is only found underneath my shower head when it is streaming cold water on me. Other than that, I physically and mentally feel like shit. I am drinking tons of water, sitting in front of my fan, and still feel dizzy, feel faint, and pretty much would punch anything that looked at me the wrong way.
In my better moments, I have been thinking about male bodies, specific ones, about what it means to have a crush, and what it means for me to have a crush, how my version of a crush seems to be so distinct, so much more obsessive than other people's when they fall under the spell of a crush. And this started with me coming across this quote somewhere, on some webiste this morning - I really cannot even remember which one - but I did like it so much that I wrote it down: That which is chased runs.
And really the whole time that Ben Haber was here in town, I was tempted so much to write about my weird desire for him, but perhaps surprisingly to many of you, managed to restrain myself from doing so, thinking and knowing that that might, that that would make things awkward and I really enjoy his friendship and wanted to continue to do so. I tried talking about this to him, drunkenly formulating ideas about why it was that in some moments, much to his displeasure I really wanted to make out with him and had to make this known. I cited Pavlov, that years of having a crush on him has made it almost this knee jerk thing where I see Ben and want to make out with him. And then there are other times when I know I am being deceptive, that I look at him and really do desire him and want to make out with him. And yet, other times, when he is lying hungover on my couch in his underwear that I had no desire to make out with him at all.
And he told me how he used to in fact hate me at New College when I would constantly harrass him, and then I thought to comments my friend Daniel made the other night when I was talking to him about Ashton and how I continually follow these same patterns of scaring away crushes. And I am not obsessing on Ashton in the same way, am trying to play it cool, key word there is trying. Of course, there was that Missed Connection, but really, baby steps, baby steps. And really, I have such trouble articulating desire and surely that is why those objects fall under that desire label - because there is something not wholly explainable about it, that there is that certain smell that does something to you, that one brand of perfume, and you would never in a million years be able to explain why when strangers walk by wearing it, you get lost in some mental sort of reverie. I mean Proust tried doing something to that effect, but really, it is a similar inspiration that certain people are able to produce in you, and I am not sure why that it is exactly, but I really do love it that I am such an excitable person, and that other people are also in certain ways - that other human beings are capable of making us giddy for no reason other than a smile on their part. I mean, how fucking easy are we to please and yet so much of our lives are spent in the absense of pleasure, longing for it, desiring it.
This subject of desire frustrates me so much for this reason, because I don't get it and no one really does, and yet it's such a part of our lives. And for that reason, I am always talking about it, normally doing so to those objects of desire, seeing if perhaps they can illuminate why it is that I desire them, and as you know, and as I do too in my more sober moments, they don't have a clue and that such an inquisition can only have a chilling effect on any desire they may have ever had for you. And yet, and yet, here I go again right now trying to talk about this thing. I want to understand the requisite ingredients for desire, like what it is, are they specific physical attributes? Because there are boys with brown hair, tall and large hands that are attractive but which I don't feel any desire toward. And yet so many of my crushes do have these attributes, and what is it about them that distinguishes them from those noncrushes, who might even be more attractive in some conventional sense? And yet, there is the case of Ashton who is short and not in the normal mold of my crushes but who I think is pretty much the hottest boy in all the five boroughs right now. And yes, yes - just in case you were wondering, this is where I was today, inhabiting thoughts about desire and about male bodies and about my own past and hopefully, my future.
And my thoughts on crushes and playing your cards too soon, too loudly, over and over again - how wrong and unattractive a thing that is, how "that which is chased runs" - my thoughts were again brought back to this subject by a series of emails just received, and I think this is supposed to be the theme of my day, that there are all these little signs continually presenting themselves today saying that I am supposed to examine desire and how one is supposed to show it, and more importantly, how one is supposed to conceal it. So, remember a month ago when that really scary guy kept harrassing me about meeting up with me, leaving increasingly scary text messages on my phone all night long. Well today, I was having an email exchange with some guy who turned out to be this same guy, and me, king of scary crushes, had to tell him that his crush was scary and I was never going to see him.
After a brief flurry of emails exchanged about me getting a blowjob from him, I cancelled because he wasn't giving me enough details and it seemed like he was one of those persons that emails back and forth forever without anything ever happening. And after cancelling, this is the conversation:
Him: wait! are you from williamsburg? is your name charlie?
Me: yes and yes.
Him: ok, it must be you. I'm not sure what happened last time, but I would bet it had something to do with me. I;vve never paid for sex, but its somethihg that for some reason is very exciting to me.
Seeing your pix that day and how good looking you are, I probobly said somethig stupid. It was pnly because I've never done this before and to see someone as hoit as you willing to I acted or felt liek a immature kid.
I'm not stupid, I'm not mean.I'm not immature. I simply find you very sexy. I would do anything for you if you would let me show you I;'m not what you think. Why does it matter to me? It matters because your impression of me is so wrong and I dont want you to think I am like that
Me: yeah, you are the person that texted me a million times that night and freaked me out. that is most definitely not cool. that is why i don't give out my # anymore. seeing anyone is putting myself at risk and i have to make judgements just based on the vibe i get, and there was something weird about yours. sometimes you just get weird vibes from someone that you can't expalin.
the whole wanting to hang out and go out to a club thing, talking to me patronizingly about how you could get me a job - all shit i don't want to hear. i want a nonpersonal exchange of sexual favors for your money. if i get the impression that someone might want something else i stay away from them. your acting like a psycho and calling repeatedly made me very glad to go with my gut and avoid you. that which is chased runs. and yes, it is never going to happen. sorry to be rude or blunt, but it is not what i am looking for.
Him: OK, its your perogative no doubt, any offer I made to you was made not to be patronizing, or condescending. They were made with genuine sincerity. I know, I dont know you so why make any offer. I made the offer because I could. I made the offer about clubs...because I could,
I grew up the son of a powerful NJ Senator and Lawyer, I never wanted for anything, and because of that I always wanted to give something back, Not as charity, not out of guilt. Its sad that you saw only a weirdo because of that,
Going with your gut instincts is admirable I do the same thjing, Which is why I am still emailing you. The night that i was texting you, I apologize I did get a little obsessive,dude, imagine being in my shoes?! Here I am calling and texting a ynger giy who I thiught was all that, and I was going to be able to 'live out' a fantasy. paying a hot yng guy for sex!. tell the truth you've never gone a little over board?
When yuou decided agaisnt meetingthat day I was a it upset, first of all no one ever did that to me.and second, I was horny as hell. I didnt know you felt the way you did about sex for hire, I thiought you were just a collge guy in need of some cash. I tried to make it seem ok.
Had I known then what I know now about you everything would have been different and I would be a steady client of yours.
Him: First Impressions.
Part of me wants to just forget it and move on. let him think what he wants to think. Another part of me is willing to do anythng to meet you, have sex with you, and then you can have a well informed opinion.
You probably could care less how I feel about all this, but if for no other reason then to say my part to you.
Your first impression of me is completely and totally incorrect. I only ask that you give me the opportunity to let you meet the real me. Not the smitten immature guy you think I am.
I am not looking for a relationship, not looking to take care of anyone. I find you sexy, and attractive, I would make it worth whatever you choose if we can meet
And so yes, I don't know what exactly it is, but those words were pretty chilling of his, that question posed asking, "tell the truth you've never gone a little over board?" And really, I knew that I shouldn't continue the dialogue, should just stop responding to his emails, that it was the only way to make a cut, but oh man, the things I could have responded to that question. Have I ever not gone a little overboard? I am so in love with life and with human bodies even in this heat which is doing a pretty good job of melting my brain to mush. I want to hold those long fingers and feel specific parts of specific bodies so bad, you don't even know. You couldn't.