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Salome, Rees and Nietzsche

Eventually, though, I realized I was limiting myself when the only intimacy I trusted these friends with was sexual.

And, worse, I felt lonely all the time. I didn’t feel like I had anyone I could call when I was having headweasels, because to talk to these casual lovers about unsexy things might ruin the seduction. Unless a party I was going to involved sex, the likelihood that I wouldn’t see these new “friends” was pretty high- and because of that I didn’t always feel like I was valued outside of being an available potential sexual partner. Or, sometimes, a logistical manager, someone with useful resources who would do it for free because I was naive and thought our friendship went both ways. I began to have a sinking feeling that the people I was calling my friends did not feel the same about me when they never reached out. “They’re just busy” started to ring false when years went by without them even initiating a Facebook poke.

For the first time in a long time, I felt like I had a community… and they were all happily in the friendzone.

It was WEIRD. For a while. But when I moved back to California, I knew I wanted my friendships to be different. I had tasted the joy of being around people who really SAW me as a complete and flawed person, not some sort of sexy persona or potential conquest. Strangely, in the stiff upper lip culture of the Brits, I had learned how to embrace my tender, vulnerable self. I knew, then, that I needed to totally change my approach.

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Professional Bleeding Heart. Sick & Tired. Patronize me: http://t.co/RSd5cSVGE5 Image by @mayakern

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