2:04 NSG - Fucktard

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The trouble with feelings is that they don't have any necessary connection to logic. The trouble with logic, on the other hand, is that it is limited to what you can understand. So this brought me to the circumstance of fucking up, like a fucktard.

What I knew was limited to my own feelings. I knew that I was utterly happy and never wanted to stop spending time with NSG. More than that, I knew that I wished we could turn into something... more. I wasn't sure what, exactly, but I had no doubts that it could be fantastic.

What I didn't understand was how NSG was feeling. She was kind and fascinating, but she was also challenging and obviously struggling with the idea of us. Central to this seemed her doubts about me, many of which were objectively true and undeniable. Somehow she seemed able to delay acting on the deal-breaking aspects of these truths, and I gloried in every moment that this permitted.

But what fucked with my head was the sense of guilt I felt for how her delaying of throwing me back was painful to her. Despite my deepest hope that we could be a couple, I was unable to believe in it. There seemed no way that I could possibly have this happiness ongoing while being honourable.

Then came the drive to the Weird Al concert. NSG made some suggestions about how to navigate our connection and dealbreakers, all of which demonstrated for me several axes of impossibility for me along with a deep sense of inadequacy. I'm just not built for tertiary fuckbuddies, emotionally, and my limited sexual experiences had difficulty following all the varied exploits she was referring to. Then the conversation moved on her rock-solid definition of one deal-breaker for her, and her anguish was heartbreaking.

I panicked. My ability to scheme processed much faster than my ability to consider ramifications. I voiced a possibility for how we could gently and amiably admit the "brilliant impossibility" and step back from it as friends, and separately move on romantically.

It broke NSG's heart. She was doing her damndest to hold onto every moment, and trusting that we would eventually find a way. She had every hope of navigating all the impossibilities, and had held me as an equal partner in holding that hope. Instead, I turned out to betray that hope.

We un-parked from the concert, and I drove her back home before it even began. A cynical contemplation of the way things unfolded has occurred to me as having been maneuvered into a grand symbolic inconvenience to fit the amplitude of drama suitable for NSG's stories of love lost. This would reflect many of the shadowy edges of her stories and explanations that never fully aligned. I have consciously discarded such a narrative as being both unimportant and unworthy.

Instead, I hold onto the lessons that are truly embedded in this for me (and that NSG helpfully pointed out for me). Firstly, that I am not responsible for other people's choices, and I should not deny them their choice if I care about them. Secondly, that I need to listen to my own heart and understand what it is saying to me, and to be clear that my actions speak to the truth of my own center. Related to that, that I need to not give into my doubts, and to trust in myself - and my hopes.

During the haunting drive back to her house, she called me a fucktard for screwing up both our hopes. She was right, as usual. And the flower of her positive regard never blossomed for me again without defenses after that.