That was a big one, I think.
He's learned to patch around some of my worse sensitivities, and is courteous of those he knows. Today, he had an amusing mental image, and patched it so I could share in it; I've learned not to rip his patches off, as I trust he means for me to have the patched version, not the buggy raw stuff. He's learning the social skills to interact with me kindly, more kindly than he would were I a random unknown. But then, a random unknown wouldn't be so sensitive to him, not unless they were operating broken. He's never had to play Supervisor before, never had to patch an Alpha. But he's learning.
He's wary of me trusting him too much, of a sudden. It'll take time to rebuild, after I withdrew. And I did withdraw. Since summer, I did withdraw.
The thing that makes it work so well is that he knows me so well. When he doesn't know me, it fades. So to keep it there, I have to keep giving him bits of me, so he'll integrate them if he chooses to, so I'll recognize him. Constant emotional immune recognition. His puns dampen my immune responses. "So, find a girl named Dew." I already have too much of him; I need (for my sake as well as his) to return that with bits of me.
I deconstruct us here. Maybe all of this angstwanking will be useful someday. Help some poor sap reconstruct their own mind, debug a relationship. Gods know I wouldn't make it public otherwise.
When our minds entwine, whose privacy is it? Here, we all know his nickname, not his common nickname, but a nickname he picked for a one-off joke. The logs of that are long dead, but the nickname endures because I say it shall. He has other names, that I shall not repeat here. There is his birthname; in the household, he has become, when I say it, 'the' [birthname]; he is the one who matters most to me, though I know others of that name. There is the name that I've spoken only to him. There's the name he calls himself. There is the name that others call him. Some of those names line up. Some of them don't. None of them are for this narrative.
When I internalize the bits he gives me, whose bits are they? Did he release them to me under a GPL of mind and soul? They're surely not rented, and I may make derivative works, but how much of the original source code may go public? Is there a percentage? Are there segments that are protected and segments that are not?
I'm seeing pixels in my field of vision, again. Photomanips in Paint -- love it. Ha! I'm the Queen. He's the King. We're of separate kingdoms -- bad timing, no time -- related but isolated.
Today he made room from his nap. *boggles* Um....
...this man has no time. By this I mean, he works full-time, he commutes, he's on a heavy job search. He has no time. And he made room for me.