Mismatchmaking Service
Sometimes ObS (the bf) likes to get me going—and this time I don't mean in physical ways, because he gets me going that way whether he intends to or not.
No, pervs, I mean he likes to get me all riled up about other stuff. I'm certain he does it on purpose, or rather, I'm certain that there's a significant “Devil's Advocate” pose when he does this. Why does he do this? I'm not altogether certain, but at times, it has made for some seriously-intense follow-on sex.
Hmmmm...getting off-track here. Let me try to stay on-message.
And what is the message? Well, I'm not entirely sure, but as is often the case, in writing about it, something will precipitate out of the neural solution debriding and irrigating my brain.
I think it might be a dare, of sorts. Not in any dysfunctional, flushing-quail kind of way. No. I think it's a dare to see how long and how well I can hold both tenderness and a sort of cold, analytical conviction at the fore, at the same time. Maybe there's a test of loyalty (toward him) in the tenderness (because that's all towards him), or an inspection of my priorities because in analytical arguments, I can roll over just about anyone with brute force, if not brute conviction.
His strength of personality is no less ineluctable, but perhaps it's more unified in his case.
Either way, it's a gloriously intense battle of wills. Battle isn't the right word, and, oddly, I'm at a loss for the right word, but there definitely is an arena.
Arena. I like that.
And how do I know for sure (and am not just in denial) that it's not a battle? Because we fight in other ways. Literally. Think boxing but without the gloves and without hitting in the face. All body blows. And why? Because it's real; because it's fun; because it's real fun; because it always leads to getting there.
On-message...on-message...on-message...
So no, it's definitely not a battle of wills. More like an engagement of them: two forces of forceful personality engaging for the purpose of whatever they will.
In a culture where people deem the worthiness or validity of relationships on the basis of where the two (or three—I am from San Francisco) individuals match, how much they match and how “well” they match, it's odd to have discovered that the mismatches are the most telling. No, I'm not about to poop out some aphoristic bumpersticker wisdom about opposites attracting, because that'd just be stupid, unworthy.
The mismatches illustrate what matches at the next level up: the respective forces of individuality, a sameness at a level which is itself ineffable. ObS (the bf) is strong of personality in ways I'm not sure that even he appreciates. It's not about pigheadedness, though he (and I) are often pigheaded. It's not about being headstrong, though we both are headstrong as well.
It's directly about a persona so intense that it leaks outside of mindspace, often observable to others as pigheadedness and/or being overly headstrong.
I think it's when two such strong personae find a mutual reflexive recognition that the crazy-wonderful stuff happens.
Anyone want to start a computer dating service based around that?
Not for me, of course. I'm otherwise engaged.