Coming Home

I took another unplanned hiatus from this blog, nearly a month. It was a rather eventful month, though not sexually. I haven't had that much time to spend online, since there has been more to keep me busy than there has been in a long time. But it has been a really good month, probably one of the best I have has in a while. And a lot of that is down to myself, how I feel about things and process them. How I view people and events. I am feeling good about the way things are going. It's not perfect yet, and given the nature of life will probably never get there. But it's going good. As a personal goal for this blog, I wanted to be able to look back on it and see the changes I have made. And while it's too late at night to go into detail, I have seen them. Changing yourself is hard to do, and it is something that has taken me years to work through. But it finally seems like something broke. In a way, that whole PEP experience was what did it. I won't say that I am thankful for it having happened, but I am happy with the way I dealt with it. It took me to rock bottom emotionally, but I have picked myself up and ended up stronger for it. Or maybe realised that I am the one who has to look out for me. There are still plenty of times when I feel like I would punch the guy who fucked me if I ever saw him again. I might have taken myself to a better place from it, but I still haven't 'forgiven' him. I am one to hold grudges, even if I don't let them take over me. It's more the silent type of perpetual resentment. In this case, at someone who wouldn't take the time to ask if I was okay. But I am fairly confident that if that time should arrive, that I see him when I'm out somewhere, I will be able to ignore him. Whether that's the best course of action, I don't know. But it's the best for me. *** 'Confident' is still a strange word to use about myself. But I have come to believe that I do have that somewhere inside me. I need to do a little goal-setting to push me towards it. The other day I was out at a bar. Sitting outside in the little beer garden area with someone else, after everyone else we were with had gone, and this other guy who has been sitting at the next table. He had been asking for one of the guys with me to tickle his neck during the evening, before the others left. He butted in when I was talking to the remaining guy on my table when it was just us three, only something about the opening times of the pub. I had about two pints in me at this point, but I decided not to let this courage—wherever it came from—go to waste. I had set a goal of talking to people more, who better than someone completely new without the sense of security you get from a familiar face? So I spoke up. "Are you missing your tickles now?" I had thought it was cute, how he called them 'tickles'. And he was fairly cute himself. But he said he'd rather have a massage now. So I got out of my chair, sat behind him and rubbed his neck. This was the first time I had ever done thing, but after a while and a bit of coaching he seemed to be enjoying it. I spent about fifteen minutes rubbing his neck and talking with this stranger. I had taken the initiative, started this whole interaction myself. I was more annoyed than usually that I had to leave to catch the bus home, but I got a kiss goodbye (innocent closed mouth kiss, mind you) and a sense of accomplishment. If you had asked me two or three years ago, perhaps even just one year ago, if I could see myself doing that, I probably would have doubted it. But things have changed. Hopefully the next change will be to do that without need alcohol.