February 15th 2009
email from me
So, for some reason, even though my sleep yesterday was meager and disjointed, I’m antsy and wide awake with manic energy and bouncing knees.
And in this racing brain of mine, a thought occured to me.
I’m not trying to put more on your frustratingly full plate. How you deal with your people and social life is, y’know, your business. Entirely. But… if it would help, if it would it make things easier, give people a simple answer so they didn’t pry and ask questions about what you are with who… you are welcome to call me your “girlfriend.” It’s silly I suppose, but I’m distant enough from your regular social life that it would practically be like having one of those “my girlfriend lives in Canada” things. It wouldn’t change anything in my interaction with you certainly, and it’s not as though I often interact with you in front of others with thier own strange expectations…. eh. I don’t know.
I mean, I should make it clear that I’m not personally seeking out any sort of title or status. I… don’t really care what you call me (“just don’t call me late for dinner!” har har!). It won’t change anything in my universe. When I think of you in my head, the term “boyfriend” doesn’t spring to mind. Not at all. “Favorite human” or “comrade in survival” or “creative partner in crime” are actually, quite literally, the first phrases that pop into view when I think of you. “Best friend”, yes, there’s that too, but you’ve rather redefined and reinvented the term to be much bigger and brighter and awe-inspiring… and it’s a term as loosely used as anything else that loses it’s potency with overuse.
Eh… “girlfriend”… “boyfriend”… they describe these set roles that are suffocating and limiting and far too filled with presupposed expectation. I don’t like them. They put wierd labels on peoples foreheads determining proper interaction. “are you someone’s girlfriend? then I react to you like this- blah blah blah”. It takes a piece of a person’s humanity and individuality and autonomy away, to “belong” to someone. Gives a definition to the world to what should be a private matter. It implies taking a first step down a dark corridor of co-habitation, marriage, chlidren, boredom. The term “mate” has a simple, sci-fi sort of honesty about it at least
(I’m in full ramble now, I realise, and I can feel there’s more coming.)
“Exclusive agreement”? No. Because that’s a contract. Granted, I’d not share myself with you physically if you were bedding someone else, pursuing someone else… but I only want your company, in whatever way you share it, because you so desire it. Anything else is shallow and bitter. I’d rather know that every time you visit, every time you say or do something kind, it’s because you felt it, not because it was according to some previous arrangement.
My point to this whole thing, was not to get into specifics between you and I. There kind of aren’t specifics.
My point was….
Yes, it’s sad and it sucks that so many seem to need defined roles to interact with each other. And to offer explination of any sort is bowing to uncomfortable and juvenile social custom. But. If you DO want some sort of quick answer to give people, if you DO want a label to wear as your armor against the gossiping sheep and pushy needy women with wolves eyes…. you are welcome to use me as protective plating. Tell people “we’re just fucking” if that’s what they need to hear. Tell people “it’s all just a performance piece.” Tell people you have a girlfriend in Canada and I’m just the platonic friend who’s helping you cope with the emotional longing.
Or.
I’ll feign public online interest in mystery boy, or claim strict adherence to a lesbian lifestyle, if you’d prefer me to be further removed so that you are at least free from questions regarding me.
Anything you want.
Y’know. Or nothing at all. Or tell people to just fuck off. Like I said, how you deal with your social interactions is totally your business.
But.
What you decide to disclose or keep private; avoid discussing or use conveinient short-hand to explain… it won’t change that:
You are the single most important person in my universe.
I care more deeply for you than I’ve ever cared for someone.
I enjoy every aspect of your company.
I trust you so entirely, that my past, in comparison, seems a paranoid maniac
In my head, you are “Stefan” – not “boyfriend” or any pigeon-hole limiting/assuming term, and “Stefan” you shall stay.
la la la la.
PS. I’m hoping this was not a heavy head trip to read, but rather…. something to lighten the weight a little, verbose that it was.