The Unravelling

After it was all said and done, I stated that I was in a state of denial. A state of shock. Brit Boy commented that he was surprised that I didn't see it coming. That it was really the only answer that he saw.

See, during those 4 1/2 months that he and I were apart, as I've said before, I was massive crazy busy with the legislative session. And while Brit Boy wasn't really having a grand time back in the UK, he was doing a lot of soul searching. He hadn't been happy in his career for quite some time before he came over here, and wasn't all that excited about going back into it, even though he knew it was the best possibility to find a job in the current economy. This soul searching produced some pretty radical self-realizations for him. Some self-realizations about which he was extremely happy and excited. Even though it meant he was gonna have to go back to school.

I was so excited for him. He had been struggling with this issue for so long and now he had found a path that he was excited about. So, we worked out a plan. I was already applying to grad school programs in the UK so that we could be together. Well, I want/need my masters for my career, and going to a program in the UK was really just a nice bit of icing on the cake cuz it allowed us to be together. The plan we had agreed upon was for me to spend the year in my program while he worked and took some courses for his new adventure part-time, and then once I was finished, he would go full-time.

During "the discussion" he stated that he thought me coming over so quickly after the stressful legislative session from which I had yet to really recover and starting a stressful grad school program was not an ideal situation. He was concerned that it would affect me in such a negative way that I would start down a destructive path due to the high amount of stress. He stated that he had seen some signs of what he considered self-destructive behavior and was afraid that it would get worse. And, he said, this was something he wasn't sure, due to his love for me, he could witness. For the record, I completely disagree that school would have such a negative, stressful affect on me. Sure, when I'm in school I'm really, really focused, but in a completely different manner from the work schedule I had recently experienced and which had affected me so negatively. Additionally, my recent workload had prevented me from engaging in my normal stress management activity - yoga. So, I really saw this as a non-issue.

The next day, during a follow-up discussion, I found out what I feel is the real reason he was dumping me. Not a concern for me or my well-being. Not a concern that life was going to be too stressful for me or that I would self-destruct in a manner he couldn't bear to witness. Not some uncrossable communication barrier or divide. I found out that Brit Boy had actually departed from our agreed upon plan. He departed from the plan without communicating with me. It was like he had been hiding it from me until the very end. Not only was he in discussions with universities in London to take some courses part-time, but also with another university, not in London or Leeds (the two cities in which I was applying to university) to take courses. Either part-time or full-time. Apparently he felt the need to move with some urgency on his radical self-realizations. "Here I am 35 years old and I have several years of education and training ahead of me before I can make this an actuality," he stated. "I need to get going on this." The end result was that the future he saw before him, the vision of his future he was moving toward, no longer included me.

"I'm not trying to control what you do and all, but this is what I need to do for me," he said. Of course!! How could I argue with that? Self-realization. Pursuit of self-realization. Even though it went against the plans we, together, had made for our future. The plans we had discussed together and decided upon. Pursuit of his goals in a manner he decided independent of any input from me. How could I possibly argue with that?

Actually, that's the only thing that irks me. His keeping his looking at universities outside of London or Leeds from me. Him not communicating that with me. Cuz that's really what it boils down to. Cut through all the crap of him being concerned for my well-being... cut through our challenges communicating while in the desert... and I'm left with him keeping something from me as we were supposed to be getting ready to put our plan into action. Something that completely shatters that plan. And leaves me... listening to Joni Mitchell on repeat.

The Desert

The event in Spain was only five days, after which I was scheduled to head straight back to the states, so Brit Boy and I only had a few days to work on our reacquaintance. The first few days, us working together to get our camp set up, hanging out with our friends, new and old, and just being together made it seem like the next several days were gonna be great.

I'm not sure when the shift happened but it did, and apparently I was not aware of it at the time. Brit Boy wanted to venture out from our own camp to be social with those that he normally only sees at this event. I, however, was not in the headspace to be as social. It was actually taking some effort to relate to the people in my camp that I didn't already know. And even to some of those that I did know.

Over time, this proved problematic. I mentioned a bit ago that I had yet to fully come back out of my shell after the stress of the past several months. I was not the normal, boisterous, extroverted, and gregarious person for which I am known. Brit Boy was off reconnecting with his friends for which I was very happy, cuz even though I had been through a rough number of months, he had as well. He left Austin to return to England for both visa and economic issues, and after 4 1/2 months of searching for a job, he had become a bit down. Quite a pair we were. Both trying in our own ways to reconnect with one another on a serious level, him trying to reconnect with his friends to lift his spirits, and me... well, I was unable to communicate my feelings. I had given my ascent to him going off to bond with his friends, but I was feeling more and more disconnected to both him and our camp. I was not engaged with the people around me. And when Brit Boy was in camp and trying to talk to me... I couldn't convey these thoughts and feelings. I don't know why, but it was like I was alone in a camp filled with my friends and I couldn't trust anyone with my thoughts and feelings. Not even Brit Boy.

As I said, I hadn't been aware of this shift inside me, this inability to communicate. Brit Boy seemed to be trying at some level to get through to me, but I guess I just didn't see it as such. The questions seemed simple and basic, not prodding and... not necessarily forceful, but strong and insistent. It was as if the challenges he had been facing over the past several months had worn him down, cuz in the past Brit Boy was always much more insistent when I withdrew into myself. That was always one of the things I liked so much about him... his strong personality and ability to call me on my shit.

But he didn't do that this time. It was as if he had just given up on us and was unwilling to do anything more. Had the 4 1/2 months of separation and the stress and challenges we had endured separately really created an uncrossable barrier between us? What was it that created this divide? While in England everything was great, but once we crossed the channel, it was like things slowly began to unravel.

The Mountain Pass

Majestic. That's really the only word I can use to describe the Pyrenees Mountains that separate France and Spain. If I had been unhappy about the speed at which we had driven through France, the slow going up the winding roads of the Pyrenees and the beautiful... marvelous... just gorgeous scenery really did make up for it. That, and the really cool 8km tunnel we wound up traveling through rather than driving over the top of the mountain range. (I took a number of pics inside the tunnel, but haven't received them from the person whose camera I was using).

If the French side of the Pyrenees was beautiful and majestic, the Spanish side was, well... dry and barren. It was beautiful in its own right, but such a stark contrast to where we had just been. Unfortunately, my desire for us to be able to stop somewhere along the way to the event site for some paella and sangria was thwarted by the fact that, well, there weren't really any towns or villages of any significance along our path.

Hrmph! Not happy I was. But, we were meeting a bunch of our friends that were already on site, so I set my mind on that. I tried to put aside the fact that France had been nothing but a blur, my goals for things to do in Spain were thwarted by, well, the geography of Spain and simply focus on the hugs and kisses of my European friends. I was much more disappointed than angry at the situation, but I'm not sure how well I made that distinction known to Brit Boy. However, once we got to the site (which really was in the middle of the desert in the middle of nowhere, Spain) and ran up to our friends, hugging, kissing, jumping up and down, etc, etc, everything seemed to be just fine.

The next couple of days were filled with setting up our chill-out camp, complete with music system, lounge space, and about 40 meters of multi-colored faux fur under the blazing hot desert summer sun. The first night after we got things all set up, Brit Boy and I had a fabulous night just hanging out together with our friends, staying up way too late (especially considering the traveling and set-up - which was a lot of construction, really), and waking the neighbors.

Hey, what can I say? Have you forgotten that it had been 4 1/2 months since we'd seen each other and since I'd had sex?!? Come on now.

Red Dress Party

It was called a Red Dress Party.  Everyone was to wear a red dress.  And, for the most part, people did.  I wasn't originally in the mood to go to a party.  I had spent the day twisting people into pretzels and working in the yard.  I was t-i-r-e-d.  But I was told that it was a party being put on by a bunch of Austin burners, a group of people that I was intrigued about, but had yet to be introduced to.

For the most part, people were... nice.  I was introduced and friendly, party-style conversation ensued.   Where are you from?  Oh, you've been to Burning Man?  Who do you camp with?  Oh really?!?

But behind some of the conversation, I could sense something.  There was some discomfort.  My friend Sarah and I were in a room, chatting with a straight couple.  After my introduction, they never once looked at me.  I made several contributions to the conversation, but eye contact to me was never made again.  They soon leave.  

Another guy walks in and starts chatting with us.  We're all sitting on the bed, facing one another, but he seems so much more interested in talking to Sarah.  This, actually, is not surprising.  She's a very pretty, very flirtatious woman.  To let her have her fun, I'm only making intermittent contributions to what is being said.  I'm just sitting on the bed, listening, swinging my legs slightly.  I accidentally hit this guy's leg with one of my swings.  Just a tap.   While she's still talking about something, he quickly looks at me like I slid my hand up his leg into his crotch.  He stands up, turns his back to me, sits back down, and commences to talk only to Sarah.  I take the hint and excuse myself to the bathroom.

I enter another room, and am called over by a friendly man who I later find out went to my high school alma mater.  He's sitting in a group watching two bare-breasted women engage in activity fitting a poem by Sappho.  As I sit down next to my fellow alumnus, the circle closes behind me, leaving the two Jesuit boys outside.

Near the end of the evening, I'm outside with Sarah and her husband, chatting with a group.  One man is regaling the group with drunken and debaucherous stories.  At this point, I'm rather over the people at this party, but I continue to be civil and social.  My friends apparently like these people so I'm not going to make a scene.  I leave for a second to refill my drink, and as I return, one of the group pulls the circle in tighter so that I have to stand behind them, as an outsider looking in.

As we're leaving, my friends tell me that I should really consider going to Flipside, the regional Burning Man event outside of Austin.  They tell me how I'd love all the fun times that are had with the people there.  The people that I just spent the evening with.  I smile, nod, and tell them that I'm much more focused on my chosen family with which I attend the main Burning Man festival.  My family that is inclusive, loving, open-minded, and accepting of all that come through our beaded curtains.

How rude!!

I was asleep.  During the heat of the day in the desert, I tended to have a quick little lie down, storing up some energy for the long night that was always ahead of me (or just trying to recuperate from the previous night).  Additionally, a massive dust storm had just rolled in, and while some ventured off to the playa to explore, the comfort of camp was calling me.

As Mama Kitte was spinning some groovin' tunes, I had flopped down on a futon mattress, next to Jellybean for a nice little rest.  How long I slept, what went on around me, I don't know.  What I do remember was the sensation of a rough hand up my sarong, cupping my balls.

I jolted awake, actually hitting the arm of the person trespassing on my genitals.  He spoke softly in my ear, letting me know that I knew him.  I groggily pushed his hand away from my wobbly bits and made motions for us to just curl up together.  "Tired...  not feeling good..." I said.  "It's sleepy time..."

As he repositioned himself, I noted that he moved to ensure that my right hand was in contact with his groin.  "Really?" I thought to myself.  "Well, it's not like I hadn't kinda thought about this...  wanted this... just not right now."

After a brief interlude of sleeping, I heard his voice in my ear again.  "Let's go back to your tent."  I wearily arose and began to move toward my tent.  What made me get up, I'm not sure.  I wasn't interested in sleeping with him, at least not then.  I had yet to completely recover from the previous night's escapades, and truly was not feeling well.  I stopped as we entered the shade structure my tent was under.

"No...  I'm not feeling well.  We're not going into my tent."  I rested my head on his shoulder, and attempted to explain how poorly I felt.  

"You're so sexy...  Let me show you how sexy I think you are," he said as he caressed my arms, my shoulders, my back.  I had always heard Latin men were romantics.  This Uruguayan was definitely proving that.

And then he reached down, cupped my ass in his hands, and said "Let's go to your tent.  This shouldn't go to waste."

The look on his face as I pushed him away, both hands on his chest and exclaimed "No!!!" was rather priceless.  "Cuddling, ok.  Sex, not gonna happen.  I said I don't feel well, and I don't.  Now excuse me..."  And with that, I walked away, and he left camp.

Off like a...

And I'm out.  It's time for my annual pilgrimage to my other home.  The place where I can take a break from all my worries.  The place where I can get away.  The place where...

No.  Not Cheers.  I'm off to get covered in dust and dirt.  To get abused by the fierce wind, hot sun, and cold nights.

Burning Man awaits me.  I'll be back in about three weeks.

Excited doesn't begin to describe how I feel.  As Mama Kitte put it, "I'm about to vibrate into a mass of whirling molecules."