Well, the Ride excitement has mellowed, I'm back to my life, and things don't seem to be all that good. Granted, they're not terrible, but good would probably not be the best word to describe things.

For starters, I broke up with Charles. And even the wording of that sounds wrong, as I'm still not sure who, if any one of the two of us, ended up being broken up with. I initiated the conversation, I had been the one thinking about an end for some time, and he was the one who I hurt. But I lost a great man, and I can't stop wondering if I made a terrible mistake.

To say that things were wonderful would probably be an exaggeration. For a while I had not been all that responsive to Charles' affection. My feeble excuses were transparent; my non-spoken language might as well have been text emblazoned on my forehead. I think much of it was my own body reacting to my emotional discomfort at leading someone on, because I think that's what I was doing for the last few months. I couldn't in good conscience continue to mislead Charles emotionally. I tried to pin it on the AIDS Ride, hoping that it was all the training that was taking up so much of my attention and making me less likely to be spontaneously emotive. I tried to say that it was just that I was too busy, and that I needed Charles for the support and security provided by his being there. I ended up just taking him and his affection for granted. My fear that I could eventually cause him to hurt inside became a painful reality

The times we spent together were great. They will continue to be good as friends­at least if Charles decides to take my offer of friendship for what it's worth. I love Charles' hugs, and holding him is wonderful. In a great sense I am overcome with a great sense of frustration that I can't just make myself reciprocate to the degree and intensity that Charles loved me. He could imagine us spending a significant part of our upcoming lives together. I could imagine that, but I could not visualize the road to that shared life.

Charles asked me at some point the day after we broke up if I just thought that I was unable to love. It was not an altogether unfair question, even though writing it down gives it an intensity and power that may be misleading to anyone reading this. To some degree, I wonder. Charles loved me, cared for me, was consistently there for me despite my despondence, and was a wonderful companion, conversationalist, movie-buddy, food-sharer, co-cook. And yet that was not enough for me. Perhaps it's emotional inability fed by a gluttony for unconditional affection.

So why don't I just turn around and say "Charles, I've made a great mistake, will you please forgive me?"?
Because it would not be honest. I've been tempted to say that, but I don't want to have him sit through what would be another showing of my spectacle of cruelty when I'm not sure that it's Charles-as-boyfriend that I miss or if it is the convenience of having a built-in playmate.

I may just have become a sinkwell into which others may end up dipping their love, caring and affection--unaware, perhaps, that in so doing they may be setting themselves up for hurt and disappointment.

But, life does go on.
Mildly good things have happened.
I did get listed on Yahoo!, finally. I guess that makes me "official" now.
And I was one of the links of the day on PlanetSOMA last week. That was a pleasant surprise. It's good to be on Dave's good list.

There will be more writings to come soon. SUV's are still pissing me off, I've got a whole new vigour about making a big, NoVA level sting about DC's quasi-colonial political status, and there will be much sharing of ideas about places to go to graduate school.