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10:11 p.m. - 2006-04-08
This pilgrim's progress.
I think I have a commitment problem. I mean, we all know I haven't committed to a man in, well, some years.

But now, I can't even commit to a dildo. A real dildo. Not a man being called a dildo - for a change.

I need a new dildo. Hey Six, up for a shopping trip next weekend? Seriously, I got so excited about the bionic, supersonic dildo that I didn't but at the pre-cruise party in October, that it hasn't left the back of my mind. And since I have nothing better to do this rainy weekend... And nobody to play with, being that Max is out to sea...

Its a committment thing. You know? Its so weird how for the first few months, the thing with Max felt... relationshippy. Nearly daily phone calls, getting to know one another, laughing, teasing. Then Miami was...WOW. Awesome!

But now that the contact is restricted to once a week, if he gets time off on Saturdays, its become... Kind of like a really nice dream that I don't want to wake up from. Its new and tingly and warm when we talk, but in between, its gets kind of frosted, like a fancy christmas punch glass. You can see through it, but its fuzzy. Unclear.

I'm not complaining. But I wonder how much of myself I really have to share when my closest romantic ties are with a man who floats for a living, and is cut off from the world 6 days a week. I wonder if this is a safe relationship and I landed myself in it because I don't really want to be emotionally intimate with someone.

I mean, I want to. I just have this fear thing.

Though, I think, given the opportunity, I might have wanted that with Max. So that's a step in the right direction, isn't it?

When I got that news about my spine last week, it hit me that a job on a ship is probably a remote possibility. And a semi-life on a very hilly island without a car even more remote. I'd need to seriously turn the tides on my physical condition, to alleviate the pressure on my disks, get myself out of pain, get myself so healthy, and athletic that no further degeneration occurs.

Can I do that?

I was once in prime physical shape. Always chubby, but serioulsy strong, flexible and had endurance to burn. But my first back injury, and a boyfriend who considered my love of fitness and sports a threat, banded together to create the less fit me of today.

Can I do it?

Should I do it?

Yes. I should. And whether I can or not, the goal of excellent physical condition is a good one. I should get as close as I can so I can save myself from a future of pain and disability.

And no matter where Max and I go, together or separate, I will be better off for the effort. I shouldn't need inspiration other than wanting to make myself feel good. Doing something to increase the quality of my own life. I deserve to live comfortably in my own skin, in the body I have been given by God to maintain.

God. I said it. God. A moment of belief. Pure. From the gut. Out as quickly as it got in.

But, that is progress too.


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