What is your lover doesn't read your weblog?
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The Boyfriend doesn't read this weblog. He has once or twice. I know he read through the entries I wrote when his heroin overdose left him comatose in Durham Regional Hospital.
For the longest time I just shrugged my shoulders. I used it as license to write about sexuality (hence DMOZ classifying this as a sex blog). A popular topic, sex. You probably already knew that.
I could say it is amusing to see the hits that Google's clumsy recombination of words brings. That became boring a couple of years ago. Mentions of drug dealers bring visitors looking for information on independent grocers associations. Just now someone went to one of the many pages devoted to my favorite topic: feminine boys. Their search phrase was "Barbie boy." I could be accused of having a weakness for plastic guys (though not the inflatable species).
Rethinking The Boyfriend's negligent disregard of the tens of thousands of words I've written about myself I've come to feel that perhaps he doesn't really care about Richard Evans Lee.
Not that I mean he doesn't care about me. Perhaps he isn't interested in the individual but the role I have in his life.
Think for a moment. You "love" someone. They've posted scraps and extended essays about their past, made animadversions against what they despise, fondly recalled old pleasures and celebrated new discoveries.
Wouldn't you read his words?
Back in May I told The Boyfriend that my dissatisfactions were reaching critical mass and the Relationship Doomsday Clock was approaching midnight. Among the many caveats and directions I gave him was to take a look here. He never did.
He shouldn't have needed the pointer.
Hence I suspect that it isn't me that he loves. Not me qua me. He loves a man who is the other half of his long-term relationship, provider, and maintainer, the man he can depend on. But the idiosyncratic individual behind the words isn't important.
I'm a function, a role, not a person.
The sequel: Lovers who won't read your words (a followup)