Brin (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
brin_bellway) wrote2021-01-06 04:59 pm
brin_bellway) wrote2021-01-06 04:59 pm
(no subject)
[cw: venting, maybe TMI]
Most of the month, I don't really mind being single. Partnering would be nice, sure, but it's a bonus, and I have many more important concerns. Most of the month I'm *glad* not to be trying to fit dating into my life.
Right *now*, though, I'm high as a fucking kite on hormones and I find it abruptly much harder to deal.
It's weird to look at this feeling from the inside. Part of me looks at it analytically. I'm still *lucid*, I still have *insight*. I know, more or less, what is going on and why. Long ago and far away, this was once an instinct to seek out someone to sire my offspring, someone I could trust to stick around afterward and help raise them.
The ancient instinct does its best to function, in the alien, mutated psychological environment in which it has found itself instantiated. It adapts.
I think a lot, at times like this, about drifting off to sleep in a lover's arms, safe in their embrace. About...about being *taken care of*, having someone to *keep watch*. I grow tired of part of me always listening, monitoring the situation, ready to wake up on a moment's notice if something arises that requires attention.
Maybe I've just been unlucky lately, but I think it might be getting worse, month on month.
"What am I supposed to *do* with this?!" I yell at my brain. "You *know* how hard it is to find people we can trust! You know how long it takes for people to prove themselves, and how many of them either fail outright or just fade out of contact before they ever get that far! And you want me to find someone who proves themself trustworthy *and* is open to having sex with us *and* lives nearby enough to cuddle?!?!"
It looks back at me silently. At least--knock on wood--it does not add an insistence that the person be any particular gender. I guess that's something.
---
...come to think of it, I wonder if the increasing intensity is *not* a biological-maturation thing, but rather a response to the general chaos and danger of life lately. Maybe if I can get a life that's more stable and predictable and safe, I won't feel as much desire to shove it all onto someone else for a while, to make the world feel distant and hazy and unimportant.
(Like, I have been *specifically* craving dissociation this month, which is not an aspect I normally focus on these days. And by "normal" and "these days" I mean, like, a year ago, because it occurs to me that this has been happening (to a lesser extent) for the past few months.)
Most of the month, I don't really mind being single. Partnering would be nice, sure, but it's a bonus, and I have many more important concerns. Most of the month I'm *glad* not to be trying to fit dating into my life.
Right *now*, though, I'm high as a fucking kite on hormones and I find it abruptly much harder to deal.
It's weird to look at this feeling from the inside. Part of me looks at it analytically. I'm still *lucid*, I still have *insight*. I know, more or less, what is going on and why. Long ago and far away, this was once an instinct to seek out someone to sire my offspring, someone I could trust to stick around afterward and help raise them.
The ancient instinct does its best to function, in the alien, mutated psychological environment in which it has found itself instantiated. It adapts.
I think a lot, at times like this, about drifting off to sleep in a lover's arms, safe in their embrace. About...about being *taken care of*, having someone to *keep watch*. I grow tired of part of me always listening, monitoring the situation, ready to wake up on a moment's notice if something arises that requires attention.
Maybe I've just been unlucky lately, but I think it might be getting worse, month on month.
"What am I supposed to *do* with this?!" I yell at my brain. "You *know* how hard it is to find people we can trust! You know how long it takes for people to prove themselves, and how many of them either fail outright or just fade out of contact before they ever get that far! And you want me to find someone who proves themself trustworthy *and* is open to having sex with us *and* lives nearby enough to cuddle?!?!"
It looks back at me silently. At least--knock on wood--it does not add an insistence that the person be any particular gender. I guess that's something.
---
...come to think of it, I wonder if the increasing intensity is *not* a biological-maturation thing, but rather a response to the general chaos and danger of life lately. Maybe if I can get a life that's more stable and predictable and safe, I won't feel as much desire to shove it all onto someone else for a while, to make the world feel distant and hazy and unimportant.
(Like, I have been *specifically* craving dissociation this month, which is not an aspect I normally focus on these days. And by "normal" and "these days" I mean, like, a year ago, because it occurs to me that this has been happening (to a lesser extent) for the past few months.)