Incest

I've alluded to yet another gym employee that I've started "hanging out" with, so I figured now would be as good a time as any to introduce you--dear blog reader--to George. (Again, not his real name, but appropriate given he's from Atlanta, Georgia.)

George is what Miss Independent would call a "bro," except his southern roots make him a little more than that. Adopted by the Western culture, he has several tattoos and piercings, drives a 4runner, and works as a bartender on Mill Avenue over the weekends. His teeth are as straight and white as they come, and his eyes are big and blue. Immediately Miss Ind. picked him out as my type, but the truth was his personality made that so.

After feeling used and abused by a lot of other penises, *cough* McClimber, Boulder, Alejandro, David, and others that still haven't made the blog, etc. *cough*, what I wanted more than anything was a guy who could be a friend: someone who would spend platonic time with me, enjoy it, and not need more. George may be defying the odds with his timing and conduct.

That southern part of him made all the difference I needed. He seemed perfectly content just talking with me, climbing with me, and hanging with me. He paid for my lunch before I even ordered, and was actually excited to experience karaoke with me when he discovered I was a fan. To top it off, when we had the WORST date ever--ever, he behaved like something out of a chick flick.

(Let's sum up that bad date by saying he held back my hair several times.)

I titled this post "Incest"--not as some rude, obscure criticism of his southern upbringing, nor as a reference to a morally reprehensible secret affair of his--but as a comment on my own habits within the rock-climbing community: George makes the fourth employee of this one rock-climbing gym to know my kiss. (For those of you keeping count, there is one employee I still have not mentioned--Red--for the simple fact that our date was back in September and was the only date we have had or will have. We remain friends.) Let me state for the record that I find this behavior to be both risky and excessive. As my brother would put it, "LT, don't tempt fate."

Incest is a bad idea, no matter to which context it belongs. My only safety is in each of their word to not tell anyone. I've made both Boulder and George promise not to share. Even McClimber has sworn to keep our first day of "friendship" confidential. They don't understand why, but they're content believing it's simply for basic privacy.

Who knows how long I have before the proverbial shit hits the fan? Especially if I continue spending time with them. (Did I mention Boulder and I have since met for lunch, exchanged countless sexts--i.e. 'sexual texts,' and fooled around a little just this last Monday afternoon?)

Ah, yes.

George was crazy enough to swear up and down that he had a blast on our karaoke fiasco of a drunken date, and actually agreed to another date! We cooked dinner together, watched the better part of the classic move Legend, kissed a little, drank zero alcohol, and passed out. He even dropped me off at the airport the next morning (dark and early), guarded my car for a week, and offered to pick me up when I returned. Did I mention he kissed me goodbye at the airport?

We also agreed upon our next date for after I came back home: tonight I'm having him over for dinner. It's my turn to cook since the Thai food was mostly his doing.

Still no idea what I'm making. God knows that could easily be another disaster...

Anyway, the point is George seems pretty healthy so far. McClimber, it turned out, was far more abusive than positive, so I have since stopped speaking with him completely, despite seeing him at the gym and having consistent nightmares and whatnot. Boulder wasn't actively destructive like McClimber, but my reason for keeping him around came to not much beyond boredom and loneliness. That wasn't fair to him or me. So, I have since told Boulder we are not hanging out anymore for a while... yes, a while at least. I'm pretty sure he didn't care.

And George? Now, at this moment, he is the only one there I am currently focusing on romantically, but the irony of all ironies is that I'm not interested in romance. I'm not interested in dating. I'm not interested in fooling around. I'm not interested in commitment.

So what the hell am I doing exactly?

The truth is I'm not crazy about George. I adore him, find him attractive, enjoy his company, think he's a fantastic catch, but... I'm not crazy about him. I'm not interested.

Or, maybe, I'm not interested in disappointment. I'm not interested in hurting. I'm not interested in losing time or energy or effort or faith. I'm not interested in being wrong, again, about someone.

I'm not interested in being interested.

I guess what I'm "doing exactly" is playing with fucking fire. I was right to stop talking with McClimber, and right to stop seeing Boulder, and now I must be careful with George. Incest can, after all, produce some hideous offspring. I must stay protected. Tread softly.

When you're 20-something you don't have much beyond your relationships and dreams.

"But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet,
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams"
--W. B. Yeats

... Please... tread softly...

I'll keep you posted.