I had this dream the other night that I was laying down next to an actress named Linda Cardellini. Some of you might know her from where I first encountered her, the now (and then) unarguable masterpiece called Freaks and Geeks. Since then, she’s randomly popped up (for me at least) in other things such as the Marvel movies, but for me she’s always from that series. For me it’s the goddamn Firefly of “this is what high school is really like” series. Blah blah blah. Enough said.
So the thing is, I’ve always been attracted to her because, and I’m sorry Linda, it’s because the love of my life, my main infatuation, the woman stuck deep inside the deepest neurons of my brain, apparently, or at least according to my opinion, shares some genes with you. For example, your eyebrows. Those aren’t an accident. And your lips. This definitely aren’t a dime a dozen. The ways your eyes quint. Your laugh. Yeah, I know you may not like it (you and others reading this), but I think there’s a lot of things that are pre-genetically disposed. And for those reasons you were initially attractive to me when I watched Freaks and Geeks. Although, as an autistic person, that was also weird for me, because the girl that thrust those features deep into my psyche wasn’t someone I met in high school, but many years later. Won’t make sense to most, but twists my brain in sideways.
So there I was dreaming and there you were. You were laying on your left side and me on my right. You just talked to me, not quite lovingly, but definitely, “more than friends,” but also, not pretending we were just friends so you could have someone to talk to while you fantasized about the guy you really wanted to fuck at some future point. As a heterosexual man I can tell you this is actually a rare thing.
So there you were. And I think there’s something the way you were, under a blanket, with obviously no clothes on, showing a little cleavage, but not sharing anything more, that must have come from a distant memory of mine when I was young, shy, living with two male roommates, but so afraid of social interaction that I was inevitably hiding myself in my bedroom, terrified that they might “catch on” on me not being “normal”. Yes, I was truly terrified of people at the time despite somehow, magically, finding two of the best roommates I could have: never prejudiced, never judging, always inviting me to their Highlander TV parties, me, always saying no, going to my room, fucking with my computer, terrified of human reaction, not understanding what the fuck they were on about. So yea, I walked out regularly terrified one day to hit the head and I hear this, “Hi [insert name here]” and the door to my “jock” room mate’s door is open and his absolutely drop dead gorgeous girlfriend is laying on their bed butt naked, except for a blanket covering everything, some cleaving showing, pointing her whole body in my direction, with a super friendly smile arrowed directly at me, and she’s just there saying and smiling, “Hey, how are you?” And of course I’m fucking autistic social-anxiety dumbfounded can I look at your tits but no I gotta walk away because he’s my roommate and why the hell are you (or anyone) being nice to me?
Awhile after I moved out the “jock” drove by me on the streets of Eugene and pulled over to say hi. It’s one of a handful of instances of me meeting amazing people that I didn’t have the social skills to invite into my life. He was just completely genuine—and completely the opposite of the jocks that used to spit on me and beat me up growing up. I don’t remember his name, for that I am ashamed. I wonder if he’s still with that amazing girl (and I’m not talking about her body, she was always kind and funny whenever I saw her—despite me looking and acting like Kurt Kobain without any talent at the time). Ah, things I’d hire a PI to find out if and when I win the Powerball.
So…
There I am in my dream lying next to Linda Cardellini and she’s so nice and kinds to me and even while I’m dreaming I’m aware that these ideas/memories/inflections have been implanted deep in my brain because of all these past experiences and I’m game for it because, well, goddamnit, if Linda stalked me in a dark Portland alley I’d be like, oh, okay, can I play with your hair (because I stim on hair you dirty fucks)? Then she’s like, “oh baby” and I’m like “yeah baby” and then…
You dumb mother fuckers. Haven’t you read my other blog? That’s not how my brain works.
So anyway, she’s talking and listening and I’m surprised and so scared to accept that anyone might actually listen to me then she strokes my hair and I know it’s okay and as we talk genuinely our clothes kinda dissolves. There’s no sexuality about it, mind you. It’s about intimacy. I don’t see her naughty parts, though I get all concerned about her being aware of mine (to be fair I’m aware that in “real” life I’m getting a woodie, not to reference Toy Story movies). Then we’re body to body, mind to mind talking, and then of course I fucking wake up.
There’s a whole lot of psychoanalysis that could go into that but it’s kind of boring and given that absolutely no one cares until Linda finds this blog entry on Google as a 98 year old woman wondering what the hell her lips have to do with being stuck in the deepest core functions of my neural network, I lost my train of thought. And by that, I literally lost my train of thought. Well, not necessarily. I was going to go into a tangent about how, over the last six to nine years, I’ve completely lost the ability, to have a (god damn sex) dream where I’m with a woman where I actually have sex. Short long short, I don’t feel attractive, and I don’t feel attractive because I don’t have sex, and I don’t because I have opportunities every day, but for the first time in my life I don’t have it when I have constant opportunities to do it. And I’m constantly fucking tired of that. Well, I’m tired off the bullshit constraints that neurotypicals put on us because they run things (especially the psycho and sociopaths, but that’s another post).
Again, used to be I’d reread my posts 8 hundred times and spent 6 hours on them but these days I’m learning to free-write so fucking deal with it.
Also, Linda, I never knew you were in ER and maybe it’s just me but you seemed SOOOOOO terrified as an actor(less) your first half dozen episodes. Yes, I’d love to lie naked with you all night in some hotel/airbnb for an entire week in Portland, but definitely yes, I’d just love to have a couple of drinks and Oysters while you tell me about some weird memory from your childhood that no one else knows about while and after which you give me the opportunity to work on my portraiture skills on cameras both digital and film. Also, yeah, don’t you look in the mirror and go OMG those lips, I’m so lucky to have those? And then think, I’m so glad I’m a guy so those won’t go away when I’m 98 like Aslynn’s hairline (I used to have a widows peak, which I’m holding onto as if Charlie Brown really knew what was heading his way!).
Alright folks, Gott log off. So much more to talk about besides wet dreams and lips and listening and cameras, although I didn’t really get too deep into any of those subjects. Sleep well everyone and keep stimming!
Aslynn