The Judgement of Paris

Relationships: We Are Slaves to the Empire of Instinct

I have been romantically involved on and off for almost five years with a guy I’ll call Chris because that’s his real name. It has been the most challenging of my life; he has a schizoid-avoidant personality, which has almost nothing to do with schizophrenia, and I am blessedly cursed with hypersensitivity and far less than a saint’s all-accepting disposition. He says he also has some form of OCD — a crack in the street will stall him for an hour when he only has to walk two blocks to Whole Foods. As attracted as we are to each other, as intellectually and artistically compatible, we are a fatally incompatible combo. Just as well that he lives in New York, I in Los Angeles.

I can have no expectations of Chris. I can rely on him for nothing.

Saint Sebastian

Story of S: Ascent Into Domination

Please read Part One of this series first.

We kiss and hug awkwardly, but that’s normal, S and I know that. We’re not like straights: We’re accustomed to showing up, taking off our clothes, having sex; then maybe talking about who we are. I was fine with the impersonal sex when I was younger, but I’m not now; it’s colorless, a void unfilled even by ejaculation — actually, I  become even emptier after I cum with a total stranger than I was before we collided. If there isn’t some sort of dating process,  a mental foreplay, it’s not happening. There’s doesn’t have to be romance, or the expectation of it; I’m not emotionally available right now, anyway. I am tied down that way, a semi-reluctant bondage that I want out of one day, want into the next.