stuff
Submitted by Didaskalos on February 08 2000 at 23:29:34
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Hi you guys.... I am feeling really lonely and "relationship-burned" tonight. My grandmother just died, and she was pretty much the last relative that made me feel like a special boy. I have shared with my church's (normal) Wednesday night Bible study group, my excellent Babtist roomate from Texas, my Thursday night sexual issues recovery group (freewheeling real people) and prayed with a nice church lady on Sunday, But here it is Tuesday night and I am lonely. I could go to the Men's group (65+) that meets tonight, but they are the last people on earth I could talk about my feelings with. They are all from WWII, you know. What I find that I drift to in my fantasies is being able to hold a boy like a teddybear, so I could feel secure enough to cry. That would be the BEST. Of course, if I did that in real life, I would just be "Using the kid for my own needs." But no matter how often I have tried to find older people to cry with --- peers, counselors, church elders, mentors, family members, it is just never OK to cry. It never feels safe to let go. I know Christ is always with me, and I spend about an hour in bed morning and evening just being with him, allowing him to be with me in my sorrow and loneliness. And that is good! That is my favorite time of day. When I get up and go to school and teach, I have to be hard as nails all day, pushing and demanding work from my students, and forcing myself to comply with the administrators' demands. That is even what masturbation has come to be about for me; there is that two-second chunk of time when I let go and cry, and then I am as tightly knotted again as ever. I feel like a little dog that is running around looking for the right piece of paper on the floor to do his business on, because he knows he'll be whipped for doing it in the wrong place, but the people that run the house want it to 100% clean, so there is no place at all to do it. I often wonder about my grandmother, what she was like that my mother was such a no-saying person. I know she had to raise two kids by herself, and had to work and keep house by herself, and that's admirable and everything; but I guess she had to be the dad as well as the mom. I wonder if she ever had an orgasm. (She married any number of men -- each one for about a year or a month....) It's funny; that's what it was like in my Dad's house, too: his father would run away from jobs and go and buy presents for male friends, leaving my dad's mother to work take car of the kids...when my dad's mother told me this story, (I was "gay" in my 20's) I said, "Ha! I guess homosexuality is hereditary then!" But yeah, I can see now that the idea of "male headship" that I read about in biblical scholarship was a long way from my family's reality. It's like the most absurd fantasy...like going around saying, Yes, as a matter of fact God HAS appointed me to go around looking at boy's penises...I mean, you laugh, because it's so good that it's FUNNY. It is so stupid: my whole life is going excellently, my student teaching is successfully completed, the church wants me to be in charge of the milk & cookies program on Wednesday nights, (hehe! that's technical ped-slang for 1st-5th graders!) I have a group of friends that values me for my poetry skills and whom I value for their skills, I have a men's group where I can talk about ugly sexual issues ...but there is a big hole in my heart, and I have to spend a lot of private time crying.....well....not crying, but just....sitting on the pot....as it were....wishing there was someone that could say yes to my tears. I guess that's the main thing I want in a woman (I've kind of given up on finding a man to do that with, since what I read and observe mostly says that that's not appropriate for adult men) is a woman that can say yes to me emotionally. I guess I feel like I am going to be beaten if I share my real sadness. It was a ten-year struggle to make some family time to mourn for my dead uncle, and I really don't have the strength to do that again for my grandmother, since she wasn't nearly as important to me as my uncle. It's just that she was the last of my relatives that made me feel special.... well, thanks for letting me vent here....for a long time I was scared of using the internet at all, because I knew I would be pulled down to my own ugly depths. This whole Internet thing has been only since November for me. But why didn't I have faith that God would connect me to good boylover and good internet relationships? It's wierd that it feels so BAD to be needy and ask for attention but it feels so GOOD so imagine giving sympathy to a little crying boy....If a boy was sad about something, I would let him lay on my arms and cry for hours and hours....I would like that a lot! Maybe God put me here as a boylover-lover; when I read, say, BlueBear over on Boychat, it breaks my heart that his heart is broken for little boys.... Sometimes I pray, God, am I supposed to be like Father Damien with the lepers? Is my whole life supposed to be about this bleeding emotional hysteria we call Boylove? When I help out with the homeless at my church, I ask God to show me the real insides of the dirty, smelly, rude people that show up every week. I ask God to show me how they are all really just dirty, hungry little boys who need love and affection. And I can see that ten-times over with the boylovers that I read about here on FPC. Every time I read a rude, lustful, leering, cruel, selfish, self-pitying letter I feel this great leap of male heroism in my breast; it makes feel like a great big ugly sneering pirate has just held up a little piece of cloth in my face and said, DO YOU RECOGNIZE THIS? IT'S FROM THE SHIRT YOUR LITTLE BOY WAS WEARING! AND I'VE GOT HIM! KHAA HAA HAA! AND YOU MUST PAY ME ONE HUNDRED GOLD PIECES IF YOU EVER WANT TO SEE HIM AGAIN! And I want to draw my cutlass and run it through the ugly monster, run down into the hold of the pirate ship, bash open the lock on the stateroom door, grab the little prisoner-boy and make a swashbuckling leap back to my own ship -- flying the flag of Christ -- with the little boy under my arm. Somewhere in every boylover, buried under whatever layers of denial, shame, self-pity, habitual lust, whatever, there is a real boy. And I sometimes wonder if God doesn't want that to be a part of the business of my life, digging out the real boy and helping him grow....I don't know. I'm all situated in my job now, after ten years of training and 50K in student loans....but the loudest call I here these days is the pain and loneliness I hear on Boychat. So I pray about what God might want me to do. Could you guys pray for me? Love, Didaskalos |