Been moving and traveling a long time.
Never overly worried about what I left behind, always trusted I would find something wherever I ended up. I somehow internalized a confidence in this, when I had little confidence in any other ability.
That particular self-assurance paid off. I did find my tribe when I resettled, however temporarily. At a cafe, or a meetup at a bar. I drew the narcissists, the users, the ones that misunderstood my simple, direct nature for naivety– but also the weird ones that wanted to talk history and politics at sex parties. The ones that didn’t want, and barely knew how, to take it slow when our minds met. That weren’t scared off, but pulled in. Like a magnet.
“You have such an easy time meeting people,” I’d hear. It confused me, at first. Didn’t everyone meet people? I saw them going out, talking, even laughing. Other people honestly seemed to meet other people far easier than myself. Sure I met a few, but I never generated popularity. I couldn’t even figure out how, if I wanted it.
But that wasn’t what they meant.
They didn’t mean they weren’t meeting anyone. They meant they weren’t connecting. The ability to attract a following of thousands sharply differentiates from that to find a single, true connection with one person.
Connections aren’t the same as simply meeting a person. I’m not actually interested in that. I don’t want small talk. I’m not collecting. I’m here to find something within another human being.
Connecting, well, it’s always come naturally to me. And I think it’s something we all need.
When it comes to connections, I only have one piece of…advice? Observation? Fleeting thought? Which is this:
The more you open yourself, the more people open in return. Or run away. Either way, you aren’t wasting your time.
Sometimes they aren’t in your life for long. I knew the Night Elf I met at a Renaissance faire in Maryland wasn’t a forever person. But he and I learned from each other that summer
(for one, he was only the third penis I ever dated, and he taught me that it felt so much better for me if the guy braced himself when I came, rather than letting me push them out. He was also the first person I dated with kids).
Then I moved on, and he stayed behind. But that doesn’t mean I regret it.
I don’t worry what will happen later.
Later doesn’t matter, most of the time. Sometimes it lasts much, much longer than I expect. That is extra nice. But I cannot control that part.
I do get hurt. No, it’s not the end of the world. Yes, it helps that I have a protector– though that doesn’t mean I can avoid all the pain. Allowing oneself to be vulnerable means you accept the ugly, as well as the beautiful.
I think it’s worth it, though. For the connections.
It’s all I really want.