Don Wood: Cloning subject number 0000002

OK, yes, I watched all 8 hours of Colonial House and decided that there need to be more men like Don Wood in this world. However, there aren't. And, the only one I know of is in NYC (halfway across the country) and not even a remote dream of a prospect, so, back to my perfect state of asexuality, eh?

Fine, imperfect state of asexuality.

Speaking of imperfect states, my insignificant other called me tonight to tell me that he will be moving to my block next month. It will be interesting to be living so close to him, or rather, to have him living so close to me. He also brought up the possibility of us renting a storage area together. After, he tried to get me to come out with him to see a band he may possibly start playing for. A bit over a year ago, I made the apparent mistake of broaching the subject most aptly expressed by the question "WHAT THE F*CK IS GOING ON BETWEEN US???" and got the shocked response that left me with the impression that I am not his type (not a petite ditzy young naive thing who will hang on his every word) and that he does NOT get involved with people with whom he games.

This led to lots of soul-searching and a month of me stepping way back from him. During that month, I was supposed to meet his parents who were in town from the other side of the country (southwards), an event over which he was very excited. Also, other friends of ours reported to me that I had apparently "put the fear of God into him" by stepping away after making it clear to him that he had not been pulling his weight in our relationship. He expressed to me that he was upset to realize that he really was unable to tell me one minor thing about myself, or a small anecdote about me that was not common knowledge whereas I often found myself as the sole member of our social group who knew anything about his family, that he had a niece, or even what her name is.

So, no matter how often I want to scream the question of what is going on between us at him, I won't. If the issue is brought up again, it will be his doing so. Also, well, I have found ways to cope and step back. My main method is to not expect anything from him, to the point of not expecting him to show up when he and I have plans. As a result, I have no qualms about being very honest with him when he asks my opinion. He understands that, unless he wants to know what I think, he shouldn't ask me. That is a sort of trust I don't think he has ever experienced before. At times, I wonder if he hangs around out of morbid curiosity...perhaps a touch of massochism too since, well, I know that such truth can cause a sting at times.

Am I worried about being stung by truth myself? No. Not really. Nobody can hurt me as much as I have been hurt already in my life and, more important, nobody can hurt me as much as I have hurt myself. I truly am my own worst critic. But, what is the strangest thing, is that there is such freedom in that. There is no hurt that can be tossed at me. There is no worry about what someone else will think. I often times simply do not care what others think and so, isolate myself more than other people, but hey, that's fine by me.

Yeah, it is a sort of freedom--no ties to hold me down, yo.

OK, I must admit though, if Don Wood were to call...or Karl Urban, well, bring on the ties ;)