What would you do if you found out your partners true feelings... and it wasn't a good thing?

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    Nov 21, 2007 2:26 PM GMT
    http://www.realjock.com/topic/57186/

    Just so I don't get accused of putting my spin on this whole mess... here's Joe's letter in it's entirety.

    MT_HERMIT 57186

    Liz, my love-

    The latest update.

    I'm in Spokane still, for a short while longer. I live in a mansion, which is fantastic, with two other homos, who are less fantastic. My housemate Johnathon has a very confused friend who comes over every Saturday and runs around the house without his shirt, hoping Johnathon will chase him with a camera. Which he usually does. I'm the youngest person living in this house, and I feel like I'm babysitting.

    Seth, Johnathon's confused shirtless friend, was complaining last night about his roommate. "She just doesn't respect me, dude," he said. My housemate Francesca, who has never met this girl, replied, "And do you know why? Because she doesn't respect herself." What? This is what comes from watching too much Dr. Phil. The three of them speak almost completely in quotations - regurgitating cute little sound-bites they've heard from other places. It really saves them the trouble of having their own original thoughts.

    Seth told me that "the media" make me think what "they" want me to think. (I love when people act like it's a monolithic institution, and by "love" I mean "begin to gag a little.") I wanted to say, "Really? Are they making me think that I've taught better critical-analysis skills to college freshman? Are they making me think that, as a 27-year-old Communications major, you should have progressed beyond this too-easy victim's view of the media?" I'd give him some Adorno and Horkheimer for Christmas if he didn't consider "positive vibrations of wealth-consciousness" to be a "really deep concept."

    I've become the "deep thinker" of the house. Which would be a compliment if it weren't said in that cute-puppy sort of way. "You're such a deep thinker." Said with the same accents and inflection as "I love your mascara." I think it's mostly because I can string together a complete sentence without saying "like" and "dude" every third word.

    "I love thinking deep things. You know how, like, all of God's heroes in the Bible were rich people? It's totally, like, up to people like us."

    Yeah. Like Jeebuz. Rolling in the dough. How do you even begin to address something like that? It would take me weeks.

    The landlord is selling this house in June, which means we'll all get booted. It also means he'll probably take all his furniture back before then, and I may be squatting for a couple weeks. After we get the boot, I'm moving back to Sidney, though not with my parents. Moving in with Jerry. We've sort of reached "that" point. Which is a bit nerve-wracking, and feels alternately like a great idea and a huge fucking mistake. I do not love him with that passion I like to imagine lovers should feel. He is not my Thornbird, I do not have the desire to consume, and be consumed by, him. And I don't love him the way I love you, taking joy in the very fact that you exist; that somewhere, somehow, there is Liz Sanger being fully Liz Sanger.

    But I'm tired of waiting for my life to start, thinking that I'll stumble across that Holy Grail if I only move somewhere else. I doubt I'm even capable of being a Thornbird. That would require a type of surrender I don't think I can give.

    I'm not sexually attracted to him. Naked, he looks like a collection of throw pillows with bypass scars. He thinks I'm sexually repressed, and I don't have the heart to disabuse him of that notion.

    What he offers, though, is a life as a semi-kept woman. Space to work on the projects that I'm passionate about. He's making a room into a library for me as we speak. He's knocked out a wall to accomodate my piano. He's bought me a horse, and all I really wanted were bookshelves. He's an artist, with the tools and the know-how to accomplish some of the projects I've been thinking up, and the connections to help market them.

    And, of course, there's the power in being loved passionately and only returning part of the feeling. I love the life we could lead together. I'm only fond of him.

    I've had the idea recently of creating living sculptures out of human flesh. Growing tissue cultures into various shapes, like dolls with rockets erupting from their mouths. Growing them around inorganic moving parts to make cyborg scorpions. Creating a huge fountain out of human bone tissue in the shape of a man lying on his back with a helicopter bursting from his chest, like a butterfly from a cocoon. The sprung-open ribs making flutes for jets of water, and the "damp" blades of the helicopter forming a canopy. The more I think about it, the more human flesh seems like a wonderfully versatile medium, with all sorts of lovely, uncomfortable implications. One more grandiose idea for which I have no tools to carry out.

    I told Jerry about this idea the other night, and got a long silence in return. "I just don't get conceptual art," he finally said. And then, "I've disappointed you, haven't I?" I wanted to say, You and every other man I've dated. But at least he recognized the disappointment, which raises him one small step above the rest.

    I'm working an awful customer-service job with Culligan Water. It slowly kills me. I found that I'm largely unemployable in all the jobs I wanted, which felt at first like a challenge, and then a failure, and is now just a closed chapter in my life. We move on.

    My conviction that I'll move back to Sidney and become fucking amazing feels ominously similar to my earlier conviction that I'll move to Spokane and become fucking amazing. Really, I've just become proto-bourgeois.

    I'm working on a nonfiction manuscript now -- hopefully my last, because I'm really sick of nonfiction -- shaped as a how-to book on raising and breaking horses. I sent a chapter out to a few journals, and received one rejection with a hand-written note from the editor saying, "I love your command of language. The first two-thirds were amazing." Well, fuck me off. I loaded the last third with the best stuff to punt that bitch out of the field.

    My income tax refund was just over $600 this year. I thought, "That's enough to buy the new Playstation." Seriously considered it. And then punished myself by paying the whole refund against my loans. Some days, fiscal responsibility really sucks ass.

    Also, I'm HIV negative. Which always feels like a small accomplishment. Something to put on my to-do list: Don't get HIV. Check.

    I don't know what baffles me more -- the inordinately large number of men who want to fuck bareback, or my willingness to oblige when I'm gagging on horny. Knowing that the panic starts ten minutes after I've pulled my pants up.

    I still believe Jake Gyllenhaal will be my husband some day.

    I do believe in fairies. [clap your hands] I do believe.

    It's Sunday, which means it's baking day. It also means that I'll drink an entire champagne bottle's worth of mimosas as I'm elbow-deep in flour.

    I love you madly, Liz, and miss you terribly. I've yet to meet anyone half as brilliant, gorgeous or talented. There's a hole in my daily life. I hope this finds you well, sailing into spring with the warm chinook winds bearing you up.

    Like Emily Dickinson, I am
    Joe
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    Nov 21, 2007 3:08 PM GMT
    I'd kick him out on his ass.
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    Nov 21, 2007 10:08 PM GMT
    why are you even asking what you should do? you already know
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    Nov 21, 2007 10:12 PM GMT
    What did you do - post this twice?

    http://www.realjock.com/topic/57186/
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    Nov 23, 2007 9:25 PM GMT
    Consider yourself lucky. Somepeople are never fortunite enough to know how a partner really feels until its too late. I suppose somepeople talk out their feelings but usually one has to stumble across evidence like you did. Thank your lucky stars it happened. As far as all the convenience your relationship offers, forget it. Know why, because as many the benefits it offers you can have it all and more in another relationship. You'll just have to look. Hey, and if you need to, split amicably so that you can mooch of the ex for a while. But, sounds like you want to split clean like it never happened, that is another way to go about doing it, just split like it never happened.
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    Nov 23, 2007 9:47 PM GMT
    I might be wrong but it sounds like you were trying to buy the love of someone you probably knew wasn't in love w/you. I think there's an inevitable end to a situation like that.
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    Nov 23, 2007 9:58 PM GMT
    Right, Hellskitchenman, i'd rather sit at the table eating potaoes and spam across from a guy I knew loved me instead of steak and lobster across from some ass.
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    Nov 24, 2007 12:42 AM GMT
    I'm just trying to figure out how a guy his age had no inkling about this other guys feelings. Yes it's poss. to lie to ourselves but don't we know somewhere inside? YOU can't buy someone's love, you can only rent it and the moving out day is inevitable.
    Forget this guy and go find someone to have spam and eggs with...even if it takes another 10 yrs.
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    Nov 24, 2007 3:36 AM GMT
    Absolutely! Hell'skitchen, money cannot buy love and rich people are always ending it, everyday, offing themselves. I know several golddiggers and I feel sorry for them. The treasure they seek really ain't treasure at all. It has its worth in stores, but these diggers are gay and everyone knows what the real "treasure" is that gay men want, love.
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    Nov 24, 2007 4:50 AM GMT
    Tru dat GG! But if you read this guy's letter (and I'm not saying he's a gold digger, he appears to be some sort of artist) that he fell prey to his own desires to get his stuff done and the orig. poster preyed on that and plied this guy w/material things in order to fill some void in himself. Both guys are actually at fault tho and hopefully they both learned a lesson. Unless I'm wrong, the artist doesn't seem overly happy either.
    I feel bad for both guys. In a perfect world the artist would have fallen for the other guy but.....
    Mister don't feel too bad..at least it's over and hopefully the wounds aren't too deep and u can get back in the saddle again! Good luck to you!
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    Nov 24, 2007 4:53 AM GMT
    PS GG will u buy me a pony? icon_biggrin.gif
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    Nov 25, 2007 7:28 AM GMT
    No, but i'll letcha ride me, YEEEEEAAARR HA!