Weekend with a friend

I spent the weekend in San Francisco with a friend of mine, M, who is one of my three closest friends. We have a deeply intimate relationship, one which he describes as nebulous. He's been there for me in so many ways the past two years, my biggest supporter, the one I leaned on the most the first year after S and I broke up. During my period of celibacy he was a sexual sink for me, as well, which definately crossed a lot of male-female friendship lines. But at the time I did not have a female friend I felt intimate enough with to talk about the more erotic thoughts and feelings that were flowing through me as I practiced my libidinous brand of celibacy.

And so our intimacy developed and deepened until he was friend and confidant and lover-substitute. I have a talent for complicated relationships, I admit it. Particularly with men, as I prefer the compay of men as friends as well as lovers. But some of my hetero frienships are fraught with tensions, tensions I will not go into as I already posted my thoughts on the subject here. Suffice it to say, however, that the levels of intimacy that M and I achieved created problems when I started dating, because we come from opposite places with regards to loving relationships. I have no problems being mentally, emotionally, and physically intimate with my friends, be they male or female--to me it is a natural extension of my affection for them. Its not about romance or desire or passion... its about the deeply pleasurable sharing of self.

Dating, sexual activity--these created strain, not necessarily because he wanted me all to himself, but because he is territorial, and male, and normal (vanilla), and because suddenly my sexuality (now that others were involved) became a topic he was no longer comfortable discussing. Which hurt. I tried to respect the new boundaries, but kept running into his, because I don't have them. I am not a labyrinth of internal boundaries like most people. Anyway, we both made choices, we said and did things, we tried being there for each other, through our various crises, and slowly, over a six month period, we found ourselves saddened by the gulf growing between us. Physical distance was starting to translate into emotional distance, despite our best efforts at communication.

I love him. I love him like I love few people in my life. His happiness and well-being are important to my own. And the well-being of our relationship, whatever form it takes, is important to my own. And so I invited myself down to San Francisco for the weekend, determined to show us both that we can enjoy each other's company sans sexual tension. I masturbated like a fiend Friday night--drained my libido so completely that it really didn't start bouncing back until Monday night. I was so well-sated that it was safe to massage him awake Saturday morning, sitting at the foot of his water bed with the sunlight pouring over me and his wonderful sleepy scent filling the air. And Sunday I woke him up with a cuddle, spooning myself against him, letting love fill me and hoping it would seep into him, reassuring him of his importance and place in my life.

We visited the Exploratorium, walked through gardens and parks, ate sushi and dim sum, watched Princess Mononoke and a couple of Ghost in the Shell episodes. We savored the perfect weather, walking the hilly streets in the North Beach area, wading through the people who jammed the blockaded streets for the festival, and stretched out in the grass at the park to listen to music. We had some good conversation and comfortable silences, and as he drove me to the airport I knew we would both be ok. That the entity that is 'us' would be ok.