Thoughts on Intimacy

This spilled out of me. I think it could make a nice audition monologue eventually, or I might use it for a longer project, like a short story or a novel project or a play. For now, I'll drop it here on the blog. Thanks for reading. 

Content Warning: language, sexual content


Do you ever wonder if you’re straight or gay or bi or pan or what the fuck any of this language really means? If sexuality is fluid. If my gender expression is ever-evolving. If other people are going through that, too… then what the actual fuck?

If I masturbate about specific genitalia, what does that mean? If I cringe at the word ‘partner,’ what does that mean?

Do you ever wonder if you’re too fucked up for anyone to rely on you? My friends call me dependable, loyal, responsible. 

“He’s really got his shit together.”

Do you ever wonder if you’re not just a stage actor, but a life actor too? My bank account is a tragic comedy. My fear of intimacy pervades every waking moment of my alone time. When I spend time with other people, I distract myself from existential crisis. 

Do you ever wonder if you’re really ok?

Do you ever get tired of people you love?

Do you ever wonder if you really loved them?

Do you ever wonder what the word love means? Seriously, and I don’t want to hear about Corinthians, or the opposite of Fear with a capital ‘F,’ or something intangible that means something different to everyone. 


I try not to say sorry. But I am. 

I’m sorry I worry this much. I’m sorry more for myself than anyone else. I’m also sorry to everyone else. I’m sorry, because eventually, I’ll leave every single one of you. If you don’t leave me first, that is. A few people have done that, believe it or not. You probably do believe it, because it seems to happen to a lot of people quite often. It hasn’t happened that many times to me yet. I try so hard to get people to like me, to trust me, to use their version of the word love with me. I try to show up. To be true to my word. To do thoughtful things. To speak in their love language. 

Do you ever wonder why you try so hard? I don’t know where I’m going with all this. I heard someone say once that they were addicted to people, that they went through life collecting them. I don’t like to admit it, but I think I do that, too. Even scarier? I’m afraid of people getting addicted to me. When expectations start to become commonplace, when I inevitably take an action – however small, however respected, however valid – that may or may not lead to someone else’s disappointment, I check out. I freeze. I know that this is the beginning of the end.

Do you ever wonder how long you can sustain an authentic connection? Can you tell when you’re ‘on’ and when you’re real? Do you ever wonder if relaxing with your guard down, if feeling comfortable with someone, if not caring what you look like in front of your partner is all an act? Like you saw it in the movies and it feels accessible so you lean in and play the part?

Do you ever wonder if a special person you met is actually so special that you would rather leave now instead of holding them hostage to your inevitable weaknesses and unmet needs and future mistakes and imminent heartbreak? Do you ever feel like a committed relationship is a trap? Do you ever feel like being alone is a trap? 

Do you feel at home on earth? 

Do you ever wonder why you don’t?


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