I need it.

Now, before you jump to conclusions, I’m not talking solely about sex. By the way, if you’re thinking about leaving before reading this, please note I’ve locked the doors, and am now pointing to the sign that says I talk about anything that’s on my mind, so by law (I checked!), you have to read this post.

So where was I? Oh yes, my horrible pangs of loneliness to which you are all now aware. I am lonely, and I do need intimacy. I need human interaction, and not just the intellectual kind of interaction, as wonderful as that is in and of itself. Let me give you a little background: You see, when I was a child, I was a very tactile person. I loved to give hugs, to put my arms around friends and family, to sit right up next to them, to feel them next to me. It was a strong need.

As I grew older, the need persisted, and I had to learn how to control it. I had to learn boundaries, which wasn’t really a problem for me. I never came into physical contact with anyone who didn’t want it. I knew that my desire to maintain frequent human contact wasn’t shared by everyone, and I respected boundaries.

When I started going to high school, obviously it became far more difficult for me to share any kind of familiar contact. I was fortunate, in some respects, that there were people who didn’t mind hugging me, who liked to sit next to me. It was a most welcome feeling. That lasted for a couple of years, and then I was out of high school. Thus began the long and barren road upon which I currently travel.

Since around graduation, I haven’t had nearly as much physical contact with anyone. That was 1999. Oh sure, I went to a few dances with friends for the next few years after that, but by late 2002, that, too, was gone. On a side note, I do want all of you to be aware that physical contact does not mean sexual contact, as often as those two terms are interchanged. In fact (too late to back out now!), I never had sexual contact until 2010, which was the year I turned 30, and by sexual contact, I mean any kind. No loopholes, folks. No sexual contact. The farthest I ever went in high school was a chaste kiss. That’s it.

“You’ve had dates, at least, right?” You might ask (I’ll assume you did).
Between 2002, and 2010, I have had two dates. Neither of them went beyond a first date, and none of them involved any intimate contact of any kind whatsoever. The incident in 2010, was more of a one night stand kind of thing. Oh, and before you ask, in high school I had, perhaps, 4 dates over those 4 years, Two of them were single dates, with no actual relationship developing. The other two were a bit different.

I had two girls who had a crush on me at the same time. You know the old axiom “it never rains, but it pours”? Well, it poured like a motherfucker. I tried to fix it, I really did, and with the expected results: The one whom I had been dating, decided she didn’t want to deal with it, and the other one decided she had changed her mind. The longest I’ve been in a relationship is a month, and that was only once.

Why am I telling you this? Hell, I don’t know. I tend to start blabbing when I want to get something off my chest, and if you’re reading this, then either you’re interested, or it is a truly, TRULY boring day at work. Either that or you’re waiting for the microwave to finish cooking your dinner. I’m fine with either reason. That you’re here is enough.

So, anyway, now you get to where I am now. As some of you know, I help take care of my family. My mother requires my assistance, as she is unable to walk. My father requires my assistance because I guess today’s world just confuses them both with how fast things move nowadays. So I manage a lot in the household, and I take care of my mother, and it keeps me very, very busy, and our country is an ethical shithole where the people who really need help can’t get it, while those who have far, far more than enough resources simply don’t have to give a damn. Anyway, because of the nature of her needs, and since I am her caretaker, that requires near constant presence. I am always nearby. The door to my (small) room always stays open, just in case of an emergency. It’s like being an on-call physician 24/7, all the stress, but without the nice income that goes with it.

It has been this way for nearly 4 years. Now, before it got to this point, I still lived with my parents because they were in a financial mess. I’d work, and I’d use my income to help pay bills. Now, for years my mother had trouble walking, due to a rare disease of the nervous system, but the walking wasn’t a major issue until 2010, when she had to stay in the hospital for many weeks. The hospital in question is generally considered to be a very poor quality hospital (though their prices aren’t for the poor, I can guarantee you that!), so her recovery was poorly handled.

This meant that I had to devote my time to taking care of her, since her insurance was piecemeal about getting her assistance. Oh, I hate insurance companies, I really do. That, however, is another story for another day. Anyway, so that’s how it got to the point where I began taking care of her 24/7.

So, 2010, what happened? Well, before the whole hospital thing had happened, I went to a Star Trek convention in Chicago. I had some fun, saw some people I admired, and managed to lose my virginity, all in one weekend. Not bad if I may say so, and sorry, too late for you to back out from the story. If you’re read this far, you’re hooked. Anyway, it was by pure chance, it really was. It was wonderful, even though it didn’t go quite like I hoped, but then, things happen. Or don’t happen. Or… well, you know.

Anyway, after I returned home, a few weeks later, my mom had to have surgery, and after that, my life began to revolve around taking care of her needs, as well as maintaining the family needs (bills, etc). I had no job, because my company laid everyone off, I had no assistance because Ohio only pays a set amount of compensation, and I had no help. I had no freedom, which I’ve never really had anyway.

I’ve had no real contact with anyone for the past 4 years, and before that, it was sparse. To me that sounds like punishment, like I must have done something to someone, or to the fates, or to whomever. Why is it that a person who craves physical contact, who needs it, who wants to give it in return, gets to live in a form of solitary confinement? It is most certainly not by choice. It’s not like I want to do anything untoward to anyone, but no hugs, no pats on the back, no friendly arm around the shoulder, no simple contact, nothing. No physical intimacy whatsoever, and it consumes me.

It really does. It consumes me. Right now, I take care of my mother, take care of the household, I’m learning to play two instruments, I’m learning two languages simultaneously, I’m learning how to program computers, I’m also reading half a dozen books a week, and I’m relearning Algebra, Geometry, and Calculus. I have stuffed as much into my head as I can, in order to distract myself from the encroaching loneliness which just eats away at me all of the time, but it’s not working. No matter how much I do, all my mind needs is half a breath, and I am forever reminded of the utter desolation that sits in the pit of my heart, and there’s nothing anyone can do about it, and it’s not a problem that I can solve with any kind of alacrity. In short, I’m stuck. I’m just afraid that someday, my heart will finally give out, or my mind will overload, and that will be that, and I’ll have been alone, and then shall remain alone in more ways than one.

Thanks for reading. You didn’t have to read this. There are millions of blogs with far more interesting, and uplifting, content. That you read it means a great deal to me.

Which reminds me; you may wonder what triggered this particular post. As many of you (all two both of you) know, I usually post when something gets my attention. Well, in this case, it was a book I was reading, and in it, one of the characters mentioned to a friend, “It’s been such a dry spell. I haven’t had sex in months!”

Statements like that just incense me. I know, I know, I shouldn’t let them, and they really have no bearing on me, but when you feel the physical pain that I do, just from a lack of physical intimacy, let alone sexual intimacy, it just overwhelms me, and I have to say something or I’ll explode.

So that is the answer to that mystery.



2 thoughts on “Intimacy

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