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In the five years I've known Steven, I had three and a half girlfriends. The half is Kelly. At the time I met Steven, we hadn't formally dissolved our relationship, but it was obvious to everyone that it was in advanced stages of decay. Anyway--those were official relationships. I dated many more women than that.
This was probably the cause of a majority of mine and Steven's arguments. He knew I was only using them, that my girlfriends were those I considered to be little more than just good fucks. It's like we were in competition to see who could convince my; subconscience of their argument. I was winning for the most part because I had more time alone with my brain. He had stronger arguments, however, and he gave me a good fight. Moreover, he had ulterior motives which I was aware of and denying, also.
I still don't fully understand why I fought it so hard. I suppose if I mention my history with women, it's only fitting I mention my history with men. I've been in various types and levels of relationships with men since early high school--so I guess that statement would have to include boys. Since I first began to discover my sexuality I've been very open about it. I don't know what my influences were in this respect; I just never really went through that contusion stage of puberty. Lucky me, I get to be an adult for that one. I was one of the most popular guys at school. Active politically, scholastically, athletically, and socially. Not to brag, but I had my pick of girls. And pick I did. If I were a girl, I would have been called a slut. I was always game for a cheap thrill. It's harder for the quarterback to find a boyfriend in high school, however. Although I didn't attend a totally narrow-minded school, one still had to be careful on whom one cast his eye. I let my "guy scope"extend past the school yard. I went to clubs. I went to college parties. I got into the right crowds for boy love. Still, I was always finicky when it came to boyfriends. I have to respect them. I have to like them. I didn't just jump into relationships with men. OK, so I didn't weigh heavily the pros and cons of each one, but I was less prolific with the boys than the girls. I took almost every one of those relationships seriously, no matter how short-lived. Maybe he loved me too much. Or in a way I couldn't accept or understand. My parents had seemed to love me for my accomplishments: my high ranking in my graduating class, my athletic scholarship, my raise at the law firm. Steven always told me he loved me for my failures: my boy scouts who used their knowledge of fire making more aptly outside the campgrounds; my long-sleeved, always rolled-up shirts because I can't sew the buttons back on; my never fully-performed college play because more than half the audience left before the second act. I guess I didn't know what to do with someone who so totally and fully accepted me for who I was and will be. He was wholeheartedly devoted to US and I was frightened. I couldn't live without him, but I treated him like shit half of the time. Hey. Didn't I say I wasn't despicable? |
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