Down Memory Lame

Forgetting is so much more difficult when you stay or become friends after a breakup. This is one of the biggest problems with being a closeted demisexual. It’s normal for us to have some sexual tension with friends, but when you hid who you were, you put everything in that conventional context wherein the titles and obligations mattered before they would naturally have mattered to you, and there is unnecessary pain when things inevitably go wrong. The pain was and is real. The past can’t be undone. Because your taste was genuine and on point, you chose people you would chill with if you had been honest with yourself. Now, you can’t go back and re-do the relationship properly. You have to plug along as if you actually give two shits about the stuff you were pretending so hard to give even just one small shit about because of principles that are now quite silly and stupid.

Looking back over Last, Second to Last, the Kracken, Papa II, and all the way back to Hannibal and the Refrigerator, I wouldn’t have even gone to a place of being any of their girlfriend. At the beginning, I actively avoided the term, though I behaved as if I trusted the situations more than I did. As time went on, I thought the problem was that I wasn’t being girlfriendly enough when it was quite the opposite. As friends who occasionally comforted one another, I would never have been in a position to be sidelined by baby mamas, rejected for better options, or anything of that sort. There would just be meeting for a beer and talking without ending up in bed and no metaphorical or physical fucks would be given thereafter. No need to break up when there is nothing to break.

It puts me in a kind of a weird position. Now that my head is on queer, years of pain over bullshit is gone. I’m not sure if I was wired conventionally it would be so utterly gone. It’s so gone that I think more clearly. Even my Bejewelled score average has climbed from around 150k to 2 million. What is left is more like butt hurt at how stupidly I behaved. One reason I could be so decisively brutal in the Last drama is because I am so over the silly pain of being the poly version of cheated on since he hadn’t even really earned the boyfriend position. The breakup is kind of irrelevant at this point, especially since he told Diva he didn’t love me. There was nothing to break. Had I not agreed to start calling him my boyfriend after the first time he walked away, that would have been the end of it before my knee surgery. No more walking on eggshells and being criticized for smiling.

In fact, if I had made it clear that I was not going to consider him mate material until he was protecting me and providing for me, when or why I smiled or didn’t would have been none of his damn business, and I’d have told him so. That stewardess smile is there for a good reason. It’s because I know the deal and I’m grateful for the medicine, so I’m being pleasant because they haven’t yet earned serious.

Maybe that would have been the end of it, or maybe that would have at least given him a realistic picture of his prospects with me. If he wasn’t predatory and didn’t love me, he’d have kept bringing the medicine and been happy, or felt he’d done his function enough and walked away with no hard feelings. If he is predatory, that would have been his signal to run away because I’m not having it. Instead, I played along because that’s what I thought one should do when one likes someone and wants to keep them but one feels maybe one is broken and needs to learn to accept and adapt.

But this post isn’t really about him. He’s just a recent example. What drove me to the keyboard today is Papa II. For some reason, lately he is bringing up too many things that remind me of my stupidity. I don’t think he was trying to hurt me on purpose, but it does. He’s one of the ones who is actively being a friend, and I love him dearly, but that’s like reminding someone of an incident where they peed their pants in public or something.  It’s more like, “You remember all the stuff that happened that year you let me stab you in the heart?”

He apologized, but I’ve braced myself for the fact that we may have to have this conversation again at some points. It got me thinking about some things though.

All these dudes have fond memories of me that they get to remember. If I weren’t demisexual and therefore not giving a fuck, I think I would give them some really bad memories. When I want to, I can really eviscerate an ego. So next time I come across a woman who is the sort who gets romantically attached before friendship and loyalty is confirmed, and she asks me for advice on how to handle a guy who’s playing games or pulling away, I’m going to advise giving pain for pain.

When there are clear signs of a guy on his way out, a woman/feminine person should tear out his soul because he’s about to tear out hers. He’s in the process of hurting her, so she should not leave him with happy memories to jack off to. Thinking of her should either frighten him or make him angry. His ego should not be boosted by having heartbroken women in his past who had mercy on him.

I’m going to give this advice because I see the results of not enough no and not enough how dare you all around in the form of weak men with Medea mothers. The mothers are nurturing vengeance in their hearts against men who harmed them, and then taking that out on their husbands and sons. A woman can’t afford to be stupid and impractical, and rage is blinding. Rage is a natural emotion and needs to be given a constructive outlet, and what better outlet than the person who inspired it? The venom should go directly into the leg of the person dumb enough to purposefully step on a scorpion.

So if a guy starts with the it’s not you it’s me, flip a table. Make a scene. Do anything that is not going to land you in jail, but will make his last memory of your face a violent one. If he says he needs space, hang up or get up and walk away. Don’t talk to him until he contacts you, and then tell him you need space. Make it take at least six months longer than his space took. Meanwhile, fuck one of his close friends or relatives.

Get your vengeance by any legal means. Why not?

Now, for me, what to do about Red Lightning is pretty simple. He only gives me vitamin D and some level of emotional support. I am grateful for this. He is someone I would hang out with, and seems a good friend. There hasn’t been much to test it, but my gut says he is. There are also a couple of things that I can’t confirm he’s done, but things did get resolved strangely after I informed him about them. So it’s so far, so good.

It’s not my business what decision he makes as far as the train wreck scenario, but it will be indicative of where things might go with me. Someone who doesn’t love and want to protect his children doesn’t love him, and he knows this. So I’m kinda wondering what is going on, and why it’s even a dilemma. What does he figure is going to happen if he attaches himself to someone who doesn’t love him and just wants the status of being married and/or a mother?

The advantage of being the friend in this situation is that my status is secure. Whether we’re shagging or not, we have each other’s back. So though I do love him, it’s without any of the titles, possessive weirdness and bullshit. He has no reason to hide anything from me or me from him. Whatever happens, he’ll hopefully keep me informed, and the decision will be safe or unsafe to shag, not in or out of each other’s lives.

It should have been that way with all of them.



My pronouns are whatever you're comfortable with as long as you speak to me with respect. I'm an Afruikan and Iswa refugee living in Canaan. That's African American expat in Israel in Normalian. I build websites, make art, and assist people in exercising their spirituality. I'm also the king of an ile, Baalat Teva, a group of African spirituality adherents here. Feel free to contact me if you are in need of my services or just want to chat.

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