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12:26 p.m. - 2012-11-01
My power is back on and I am back to reality, after a long weekend of blissful escape at A's. I love that girl. She is sweet and smart and she can assemble a kerosene heater as well as she handles a weedwhacker. She makes me laugh really, really hard. We finally settled the question of who would win a wrestling match (me).

I like her because she makes me feel protective, and desired, and more than adequate. It keeps me from second-guessing myself too much, and this switch from guys to girls. I've always felt that me actually "doing the lesbian thing" was about as unlikely and unrealistic as me having an affair -- real, normal people like me just don't DO that. (Of course, now I know that in fact real people do that all the time, but I still can't picture a good girl like myself doing anything of the sort.)

As it turns out, being with A feels a hell of a lot more authentic, and normal, and ME, than my old heterosexual life ever did. After all, what could possibly be more foreign than a hairy, smelly, humongous, insensitive penis-brandishing MAN? None of that ever appealed to me -- I suppose that if every adult woman was supposed to marry, love and procreate with a chimpanzee I would have done that too, and felt teeth-grindingly, jaw-clenchingly normal.

Oh, fuck normal! Intimate partnership with a member of another species was the loneliest experience of my life. I spent every day wishing I was still too young for the freedoms and pleasures of adult sexuality, so I could be happy again. I figured that the problem was me, and I needed to suck it up and grow up. I needed to forget. I have spent probably 15 years trying to forget and after a couple of near-successful suicide attempts, 15 years of starving, and turning my arms into something resembling abstract art by Hannibal Lecter, I think I can conclude that I am not very good at forgetting.

It is nice to look forwards to seeing the person you are supposed to look forward to seeing, and to genuinely want to be there and nowhere else. I had never thought of a bedroom as a place of sanctuary before.



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