How does it happen? Do we just slip further and further into a state of obligated servitude? Do we crumble our will before internally imposed expectations of behavior? Perhaps its an adaptation of protocols we absorb from television or romantic movies.
I tend to dismiss most of these ideas right away, as I am a mostly free thinking individual. but I am a child of my generation, and a product of a consumeristic society regardless. I had an average childhood that constantly indulged or skirted poverty and saw my share of co-dependent relatives. Healthy relationship models were not something I experienced directly.
Two divorces later...
I am jaded. I can ride the bus and see the most unlikely couples, that obviously fit together, but part of me does not believe that is something I can achieve. Part of me wonders how and why it became such a central goal, again messages of our consumeristic society. Either way I find myself in a relationship that I value, and I want to make it work. But there is no script, there is no parameter by which to measure or form my expectations, and there is no model except blundering through and hoping for the best. avoiding old patterns and perceptions and behaviors is like navigating a minefield.
So I find myself waiting to hear the sweet talk that started this tryst. Hungry for the words of admiration and adoration from my lover. For the feel of his strong arms squeezing me and his amazing lips clinging to mine melting my core. The feel of his hands like the first time he touched me, almost worshiping, grateful, and so lingering. But he feels crowded and doesn't like it to be an expectation. He works a lot and is gone even more, and I am lonely, filling my time with trivialities, friends, school and my own work.
I do to much for him. I wash his coffee cups and pack his lunch. I make creative and interesting dinners because we are broke and I know how to make something of nothing. I want to keep the stress off him however I can. I keep the house and do the laundry and pay 1/3 of the rent. I do the majority of the shopping and give him all the sex he wants just to get some sort of affection from him. Oh my god! I am an idiot. I have turned Myself into the mother-whore. No wonder I feel this way!
I need a solution! What can I do to be more at home in our house? what can I do to make the space more conducive and nourishing to me? And how do I stop being a patsy, a door mat a servant and get what I want in my relationships and my life? AAgghhhhh. there are so few models for this. so as usual I will have to forge ahead, blaze the trail, and become a role model. ugh. why can't I just get a road map instead of reinventing the wheel?
My list was simple: a good man that utterly adores me. I do not feel adored, valued or even seen lately. How can I be seen by myself more?
Friday, September 30, 2011
Thursday, September 29, 2011
aversion to the mundane
"Yes!" I said, excitedly, with a huge sense of relief to have it named, categorized and labeled. "that's it!I have an aversion to the mundane."
He stared at me, like he always does, with humor and affection and a bit of pride and said gently "Well, you know, a lot of life really is mundane, that's just how it is, no matter who you are. I invite you to pay attention, and look at those moment a little closer. Find what is wonderful, and beautiful and delicious in them."
I stared back at him and realized maybe this attitude was a problem I should try to overcome instead of something to be self righteous about. I don't know why we work so well together, but Ed is the best therapist I have ever had. He validates all of my experiences "What I want to know" he said, "Is how could anyone expect you to trust anyone after what you've been through? I mean, my gosh, look at you, why would you be able to?" And at the same time expands my view and helps me move through old thoughts and beliefs that hold me back from being ABLE to be happy.
It didn't go over so great when I caught myself weighing everything he had said while I stared at, and studied my boyfriend in sharp detail that evening. He was repeatedly annoyed and more then a little weirded out, but I just kept staring at him. Ed's words were replaying in my head "It really sounds like you could spend a lifetime getting to know this guy, learning everything there is to him, the nuances".
"It sounds like you are really important to him and that he really cares about you. Maybe you are everything he really wants, and he is really happy, not ignoring you, maybe he just feels really complete. He has you, he has TV, he is home from a job he hates..." I had never thought to even consider it that way before. So I just kept staring, turning the ideas around in my mind. Boyfriends delicious and juicy lips kept distracting my contemplations so it went on for sometime. I am sure it did weird him out.
It didn't make it any easier to do the laundry and dishes the next day, to to sweep the floors, or to contain the dogs. House work was still tedious and mundane. Homework still loomed over my head like a huge hurdle of academia that no one is ever quite adequate to, and lunch dates, were all mere time killers to seeing him again. Perhaps next week when I meet with Ed we can focus on dealing with my OCD, tendencies a bit more, before I no longer have a boyfriend to obsess over. I just really like him, and he keeps surprising me, inside of myself. And his damn sweet, juicy, kissable lips, I want to chew on them all day long. If only he were more consistently affectionate, instead of withdrawn and aloof. That part is downright painful.
"Find the beautiful little tiny moments that bring joy and magic into the mundane-ness of daily life" say's Ed, in my head.
He stared at me, like he always does, with humor and affection and a bit of pride and said gently "Well, you know, a lot of life really is mundane, that's just how it is, no matter who you are. I invite you to pay attention, and look at those moment a little closer. Find what is wonderful, and beautiful and delicious in them."
I stared back at him and realized maybe this attitude was a problem I should try to overcome instead of something to be self righteous about. I don't know why we work so well together, but Ed is the best therapist I have ever had. He validates all of my experiences "What I want to know" he said, "Is how could anyone expect you to trust anyone after what you've been through? I mean, my gosh, look at you, why would you be able to?" And at the same time expands my view and helps me move through old thoughts and beliefs that hold me back from being ABLE to be happy.
It didn't go over so great when I caught myself weighing everything he had said while I stared at, and studied my boyfriend in sharp detail that evening. He was repeatedly annoyed and more then a little weirded out, but I just kept staring at him. Ed's words were replaying in my head "It really sounds like you could spend a lifetime getting to know this guy, learning everything there is to him, the nuances".
"It sounds like you are really important to him and that he really cares about you. Maybe you are everything he really wants, and he is really happy, not ignoring you, maybe he just feels really complete. He has you, he has TV, he is home from a job he hates..." I had never thought to even consider it that way before. So I just kept staring, turning the ideas around in my mind. Boyfriends delicious and juicy lips kept distracting my contemplations so it went on for sometime. I am sure it did weird him out.
It didn't make it any easier to do the laundry and dishes the next day, to to sweep the floors, or to contain the dogs. House work was still tedious and mundane. Homework still loomed over my head like a huge hurdle of academia that no one is ever quite adequate to, and lunch dates, were all mere time killers to seeing him again. Perhaps next week when I meet with Ed we can focus on dealing with my OCD, tendencies a bit more, before I no longer have a boyfriend to obsess over. I just really like him, and he keeps surprising me, inside of myself. And his damn sweet, juicy, kissable lips, I want to chew on them all day long. If only he were more consistently affectionate, instead of withdrawn and aloof. That part is downright painful.
"Find the beautiful little tiny moments that bring joy and magic into the mundane-ness of daily life" say's Ed, in my head.
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
what if?
What if I knew what I wanted in life? in love? inside the bedroom and out? Where I wanted to live? whom I wanted for friends, and what kind of work I wanted to spend my life doing?
its moot. The truth is I have lived through times when I have thought I've known the answers to these questions and I always felt as through I barely survived it. Somehow life seems to lose its sparkle when its all pre-decided and planned out before me, a road stretching before me through the desert of eternity with no curves, no hills, no real significant change in scenery... I feel suffocated just trying to write about it.
The rest of the truth is that I often LIKE not knowing what is down the road or around the next bend. The act of exploration, and the process of discovery are experiences one does not get to engage when ones world is to ordered, to paved, and sanitized for our protection. So I set myself on these quests of discovery, carving adventures out of real life and sometimes, nay so far its been every time, my loneliness is only heightened as I realize I am alone in a sea of thrill seeking nine to fivers. Those individuals that appear to take the road less traveled so they seem edgy or rebellious to their families and coworkers, but who fear any one or anything not under their own careful blanket of controlled illusion. They always put me in a cage, a trophy, a prize to prove how freaky they are.
I am an innocent and I can blindly blunder into some pretty steep territory. But I am not naive. Once I find myself there I am usually fully aware of the dangers, the snakes in the gutter and the pimps on the corner, and can hold my own till I slowly and intentionally saunter on outta there. Chin up, stut in high gear, handing out free smokes as I go. Yet another skill set that may have saved my life and virtue more then once, and has led to countless stories of adventure, but hasn't served in bringing me anything tangible for life in this world of fakery and meglomania.
What if I knew what I wanted? I don't have the answers. I don't really think that anyone does indefinitely. Although some are lucky enough to know what they want in the moment of now and how to implement a plan to bring it about, with some sense of certainty and control... Maybe I am jaded, but I tend to believe these people are just fooling themselves. A grown up, and acceptable version of self soothing.
Throw the pacifier away!! Call it tobacco, television, cannabis or booze. The only thing that eases our pain and isolation and the need for these self indulgent numbing agents and pain killers is true connection with another person, someone who can actually SEE us and still accepts us, something all these replacements often continue to isolate us from achieving, or from keeping if we are lucky enough to find it.
Not me, I stand out in the middle of the parking lot in the rain, 2 o clock in the morning when we all have to work the next day. My arms raised and my voice breaking on the wonder and beauty of being alive, and of experiencing everything life has to offer me in that moment, I'm not even drinking tonight, emotions high with the ecstacy of the moment but the wind howling higher. Maybe all the neighbors start staring and my partner gets angry at me for -in his mind- airing our dirty laundry (some minor and already forgotten argument perhaps) in public, when really I probably just saw a meteorite on my way home that brought tears to my eyes with its naked, unadulterated purity, and I had to stop the presses and celebrate being alive.
I am a dying breed. A true free spirit, a gypsy souled beauty with a need for a whole life filled with authentic moments, intimate conversations and sensual pleasures, like some people need a big bank account or a really nice car. I am ultimately alone, rarey, really understood until my trust is broken. My love is never ending but, not my devotion. My soul hungers for another to run beside me, one who neither condemns me for my farsighted understanding of humanities frailties and its pain, nor pushes me past my own better judgement or intuitive sense of how to heal it. One that does not put me in a cage -however pretty, but doesn't hide from me or lose me either.
It is true, I give to much, I love to easily and I forgive from the depths of my soul. I want, and long for, and secretly hope I am not the only one, but at my age, experience has taught me well. Everyone has the best of intentions but old habits die hard, no matter who they hurt. So I try to turn it outward. I still watch my heart break almost everyday over something or someone I couldn't help, or reach or soothe somehow. Every night I stoke the fires of sincerity and confidence with the fodder of my loneliness and fears, so I can do it all again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. I do believe in miracles. I myself have benefited from them in impossible circumstances time and again.
Some people criticize and try to change me, whether from some misplaced sense of chivalry and protection' or their own limited understanding of ultimate reality. Some call me a fool, or a flibbertigibbet, and can't be bothered with the likes of me, Although I think they doth protest to much. The truth is they feel more deeply inside themselves under my knowing but loving gaze, and the fear, pain or isolation they have tried so hard to hide or deny angers them... I love them regardless, and try to be gentle with them. They are hurting like the rest of us.
Why should I be any different? The truth is I LIKE who I am. My heart is to soft, but it the best of me -of humanity really- and If we cant add healing, love, truth and beauty to the world and its people who need to believe in themselves again, in each other, in the power of love, what good are we? Dead weight.
So I guess I have what I want, adventure, and a life that touches others in positive ways and helps everyone it touches to grow, sometimes through love and intention, and sometimes unintentionally through shock and anger. I have so very much to be thankful for! I am one of a kind, but another pea in my pod would be encouraging.
Now universe, can I get a healthy dose of true love, deep trust, intimately complex connection, intellectual stimulation, companionship and great sex with that? fries are not required, and batteries are optional. But devotion and respect are mandatory. Cross your fingers for me that my sweetie is the right one, the one that CAN keep me, and learn to connect instead of trying to change who I am or taking me for granted. What if I already have everything I could ever want? what if you do too? Imagine the difference we can make, the world we can make.
its moot. The truth is I have lived through times when I have thought I've known the answers to these questions and I always felt as through I barely survived it. Somehow life seems to lose its sparkle when its all pre-decided and planned out before me, a road stretching before me through the desert of eternity with no curves, no hills, no real significant change in scenery... I feel suffocated just trying to write about it.
The rest of the truth is that I often LIKE not knowing what is down the road or around the next bend. The act of exploration, and the process of discovery are experiences one does not get to engage when ones world is to ordered, to paved, and sanitized for our protection. So I set myself on these quests of discovery, carving adventures out of real life and sometimes, nay so far its been every time, my loneliness is only heightened as I realize I am alone in a sea of thrill seeking nine to fivers. Those individuals that appear to take the road less traveled so they seem edgy or rebellious to their families and coworkers, but who fear any one or anything not under their own careful blanket of controlled illusion. They always put me in a cage, a trophy, a prize to prove how freaky they are.
I am an innocent and I can blindly blunder into some pretty steep territory. But I am not naive. Once I find myself there I am usually fully aware of the dangers, the snakes in the gutter and the pimps on the corner, and can hold my own till I slowly and intentionally saunter on outta there. Chin up, stut in high gear, handing out free smokes as I go. Yet another skill set that may have saved my life and virtue more then once, and has led to countless stories of adventure, but hasn't served in bringing me anything tangible for life in this world of fakery and meglomania.
What if I knew what I wanted? I don't have the answers. I don't really think that anyone does indefinitely. Although some are lucky enough to know what they want in the moment of now and how to implement a plan to bring it about, with some sense of certainty and control... Maybe I am jaded, but I tend to believe these people are just fooling themselves. A grown up, and acceptable version of self soothing.
Throw the pacifier away!! Call it tobacco, television, cannabis or booze. The only thing that eases our pain and isolation and the need for these self indulgent numbing agents and pain killers is true connection with another person, someone who can actually SEE us and still accepts us, something all these replacements often continue to isolate us from achieving, or from keeping if we are lucky enough to find it.
Not me, I stand out in the middle of the parking lot in the rain, 2 o clock in the morning when we all have to work the next day. My arms raised and my voice breaking on the wonder and beauty of being alive, and of experiencing everything life has to offer me in that moment, I'm not even drinking tonight, emotions high with the ecstacy of the moment but the wind howling higher. Maybe all the neighbors start staring and my partner gets angry at me for -in his mind- airing our dirty laundry (some minor and already forgotten argument perhaps) in public, when really I probably just saw a meteorite on my way home that brought tears to my eyes with its naked, unadulterated purity, and I had to stop the presses and celebrate being alive.
I am a dying breed. A true free spirit, a gypsy souled beauty with a need for a whole life filled with authentic moments, intimate conversations and sensual pleasures, like some people need a big bank account or a really nice car. I am ultimately alone, rarey, really understood until my trust is broken. My love is never ending but, not my devotion. My soul hungers for another to run beside me, one who neither condemns me for my farsighted understanding of humanities frailties and its pain, nor pushes me past my own better judgement or intuitive sense of how to heal it. One that does not put me in a cage -however pretty, but doesn't hide from me or lose me either.
It is true, I give to much, I love to easily and I forgive from the depths of my soul. I want, and long for, and secretly hope I am not the only one, but at my age, experience has taught me well. Everyone has the best of intentions but old habits die hard, no matter who they hurt. So I try to turn it outward. I still watch my heart break almost everyday over something or someone I couldn't help, or reach or soothe somehow. Every night I stoke the fires of sincerity and confidence with the fodder of my loneliness and fears, so I can do it all again the next day, and the day after that, and the day after that. I do believe in miracles. I myself have benefited from them in impossible circumstances time and again.
Some people criticize and try to change me, whether from some misplaced sense of chivalry and protection' or their own limited understanding of ultimate reality. Some call me a fool, or a flibbertigibbet, and can't be bothered with the likes of me, Although I think they doth protest to much. The truth is they feel more deeply inside themselves under my knowing but loving gaze, and the fear, pain or isolation they have tried so hard to hide or deny angers them... I love them regardless, and try to be gentle with them. They are hurting like the rest of us.
Why should I be any different? The truth is I LIKE who I am. My heart is to soft, but it the best of me -of humanity really- and If we cant add healing, love, truth and beauty to the world and its people who need to believe in themselves again, in each other, in the power of love, what good are we? Dead weight.
So I guess I have what I want, adventure, and a life that touches others in positive ways and helps everyone it touches to grow, sometimes through love and intention, and sometimes unintentionally through shock and anger. I have so very much to be thankful for! I am one of a kind, but another pea in my pod would be encouraging.
Now universe, can I get a healthy dose of true love, deep trust, intimately complex connection, intellectual stimulation, companionship and great sex with that? fries are not required, and batteries are optional. But devotion and respect are mandatory. Cross your fingers for me that my sweetie is the right one, the one that CAN keep me, and learn to connect instead of trying to change who I am or taking me for granted. What if I already have everything I could ever want? what if you do too? Imagine the difference we can make, the world we can make.
Monday, September 19, 2011
Trashing the Dress
I recently received this letter from my pen pal...
Hello, Autumn is in the air here. The evenings are getting darker, the trees are changing colour and some are dropping leaves. The apples and fruit are ripe and ready to pick, the harvest has been gathered. Frost cannot be far off now, the nights are already feeling cold.
Still, the autumn ploughing, which has just started has got it's interests. I have just got back from a cold, wet field nearby, watching it being ploughed and a rather strange local event. A Trashing the Dress party.
This is a very odd sort of celebration. So far as I know it is a tradition particular to the very far north of Scotland. I have never heard of anything similar elsewhere in the UK. The tradition is strong here though and seems to be growing more so. If you look in the windows of local photographers shops you will see the usual wedding, baby and other photos, as well as trashing the dress pictures.
It seems that, once a woman is well and truly married. Once she is sure she will never again need her wedding dress. She has the choice of putting it away in her wardrobe, never to see daylight again unless she can pass it on to her daughter. Assuming she has one. Assuming the dress will fit the girl. Assuming the dress is still fashionable. Assuming the daughter wants to wear it. Or, she can trash it!
This seems to be then a public statement made by a young married woman, but never explicitly expressed, that she is now happily married and will not be seeking another husband. So, she gathers her friends and relatives together as witnesses, as well as a photographer. Then she puts on her wedding dress and goes and does something that will utterly destroy it, so that it is fit for nothing but the 'rag and bone man'.
Today the young lady arrived wearing a lovely, full length gown with a short train. She had a little posy of flowers in her hands an a veil, thrown back over her head to reveal her face and held in place by a simple band. She had a pair of pretty white shoes on, with dainty high heels. Also white stockings, a baby ble garter and a little white thong. I know, because she posed for us with her skirts lifted high. Just for the photographer you understand.
Anyway. The field was being ploughed. It was rough, since the ground had only just been turned. It was also very wet, since it was raining overnight. The tractor pulled up alongside the young lady. The plough had been unhooked. In it's place a heavy, knotted rope had been fixed to the tow hook. The bride picked up the knotted rope and hung on tight as the tractor set off slowly across the muddy field. The young woman had no choice but to follow. In moments she had lost a shoe, stuck in the mud. Moments later she broke the heel off the other shoe, so kicked it off and continued barefoot. Her dress by now was getting very muddy around the skirts whilst the tractor wheels were throwing up mud all over her bodice. Soon her stockings were shredded as she walked through the foot. Finally she staggered, falling to her knees in the plough furrows. The tractor continued it's slow progress though. So, a moment later, she was pulled onter her chest, to be dragged slowly through the sticky soil for some 20ft or so. Finally, she let go of the rope. She struggled to her feet and, amidst loud applause and the flash of camera flashguns, she stumbled to the edge of the field.
An odd ceremony. Great fun to watch though. I couldn't help feeling it was a bit kinky too. There were elements of public humiliation, exhibitionism and messy play in all this.
Or perhaps that is just seeing things from my kinky perspective. Perhaps it is in fact simply an endearing pagan ritual.
Do you have anything similar in nature on the far side of the atlantic? Is this simply a bit of British madness?
Hello, Autumn is in the air here. The evenings are getting darker, the trees are changing colour and some are dropping leaves. The apples and fruit are ripe and ready to pick, the harvest has been gathered. Frost cannot be far off now, the nights are already feeling cold.
Still, the autumn ploughing, which has just started has got it's interests. I have just got back from a cold, wet field nearby, watching it being ploughed and a rather strange local event. A Trashing the Dress party.
This is a very odd sort of celebration. So far as I know it is a tradition particular to the very far north of Scotland. I have never heard of anything similar elsewhere in the UK. The tradition is strong here though and seems to be growing more so. If you look in the windows of local photographers shops you will see the usual wedding, baby and other photos, as well as trashing the dress pictures.
It seems that, once a woman is well and truly married. Once she is sure she will never again need her wedding dress. She has the choice of putting it away in her wardrobe, never to see daylight again unless she can pass it on to her daughter. Assuming she has one. Assuming the dress will fit the girl. Assuming the dress is still fashionable. Assuming the daughter wants to wear it. Or, she can trash it!
This seems to be then a public statement made by a young married woman, but never explicitly expressed, that she is now happily married and will not be seeking another husband. So, she gathers her friends and relatives together as witnesses, as well as a photographer. Then she puts on her wedding dress and goes and does something that will utterly destroy it, so that it is fit for nothing but the 'rag and bone man'.
Today the young lady arrived wearing a lovely, full length gown with a short train. She had a little posy of flowers in her hands an a veil, thrown back over her head to reveal her face and held in place by a simple band. She had a pair of pretty white shoes on, with dainty high heels. Also white stockings, a baby ble garter and a little white thong. I know, because she posed for us with her skirts lifted high. Just for the photographer you understand.
Anyway. The field was being ploughed. It was rough, since the ground had only just been turned. It was also very wet, since it was raining overnight. The tractor pulled up alongside the young lady. The plough had been unhooked. In it's place a heavy, knotted rope had been fixed to the tow hook. The bride picked up the knotted rope and hung on tight as the tractor set off slowly across the muddy field. The young woman had no choice but to follow. In moments she had lost a shoe, stuck in the mud. Moments later she broke the heel off the other shoe, so kicked it off and continued barefoot. Her dress by now was getting very muddy around the skirts whilst the tractor wheels were throwing up mud all over her bodice. Soon her stockings were shredded as she walked through the foot. Finally she staggered, falling to her knees in the plough furrows. The tractor continued it's slow progress though. So, a moment later, she was pulled onter her chest, to be dragged slowly through the sticky soil for some 20ft or so. Finally, she let go of the rope. She struggled to her feet and, amidst loud applause and the flash of camera flashguns, she stumbled to the edge of the field.
An odd ceremony. Great fun to watch though. I couldn't help feeling it was a bit kinky too. There were elements of public humiliation, exhibitionism and messy play in all this.
Or perhaps that is just seeing things from my kinky perspective. Perhaps it is in fact simply an endearing pagan ritual.
Do you have anything similar in nature on the far side of the atlantic? Is this simply a bit of British madness?
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Q&A (interview)
The question was:
How did you react when your daughter came out?
Well since my best friend is a lesbian, my great aunts were lesbians (when I was a child in the 70's) and I was actually married to a gyrl in a mans body, it didn't phase me at all. I see no reason that it should ever be an issue or a big deal.
I have a hard time understanding WHY it becomes one for so many people and families. (but remember I am always the biggest FREAK in the room -LOL)
I raised my daughter to believe that LOVE IS LOVE and that silly things like gender are not even remotely important. I used to run a self esteem class for pre-teen girls where we discussed things like "attraction to boys or not" and the normal feelings and developmental stages we all go through. She was raised to deeply understand and Know that things like gender, sexual identity AND sexuality are NOT binary ideals or concepts and that what IS important is everyone's equal right to acceptance, love and happiness.
We all subscribe to the philosophy THAT ANYTHING between two (or more) CONSENTING ADULTS is nobodies business. period.
so rock on.
How did you react when your daughter came out?
Well since my best friend is a lesbian, my great aunts were lesbians (when I was a child in the 70's) and I was actually married to a gyrl in a mans body, it didn't phase me at all. I see no reason that it should ever be an issue or a big deal.
I have a hard time understanding WHY it becomes one for so many people and families. (but remember I am always the biggest FREAK in the room -LOL)
I raised my daughter to believe that LOVE IS LOVE and that silly things like gender are not even remotely important. I used to run a self esteem class for pre-teen girls where we discussed things like "attraction to boys or not" and the normal feelings and developmental stages we all go through. She was raised to deeply understand and Know that things like gender, sexual identity AND sexuality are NOT binary ideals or concepts and that what IS important is everyone's equal right to acceptance, love and happiness.
We all subscribe to the philosophy THAT ANYTHING between two (or more) CONSENTING ADULTS is nobodies business. period.
so rock on.
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
what I want and where its gotten me
I don't even know what I want. He has asked but I don't know how to answer. He treats me like an object, a possession. Something that belongs to him. And I thrill to it. I know I should be indignant, offended, and probably a bit more aggressively in opposition, but... I like it. After two marriages where I felt thrown away it is kinda nice. He told me what I want, what I need, what I was looking for: "You are really just a little girl that needs a big strong daddy, to look after her and tell her what to do." He told me at one of our first meetings.
Of course I reacted internally with "whoa! This guy is kind of intense and twisted and controlling, and dangerous". And I ran away. But I explored a little and as I got used to this idea I came back a year later. Thinking to myself, "all the men Ive dated were too submissive and to easily dominated by my strong, sometimes larger then life personality.I secretly long to be completely dominated by the right man. could it be him? could he be the right man?" We went out again. I just kept liking him as a person, even though his sexual lifestyle and adventures pushed all my buttons of danger and nervousness. I simply didn't think of him as dating material.
When we got to the awkward part of the evening where I generally hug my smitten admirers good bye,thank them for the drink and the chat and wish them a good night. He didn't shrink back or slink away, instead he confidently and gently pulled me against his strong chest and kissed me. And I felt something different for the first time, a sort of deep shuddering surrender shot through me and I simply melted into his arms. It wasn't overwhelming like a romance novel, It was comfortable, easy, right, and I hoped he wouldn't let go or creep away. He didn't. Could it be I had actually found my equal? That was a very novel idea. I was intrigued.
"Bad girls get spanked" he said one day and I couldn't feel the floor under my feet. My stomach had dropped to where my bladder should be. Later, He held my hands above my head "you like that?" he said huskily in my ear? "you like my hot cock in your tight little pussy?" I lost it. No one had ever talked to me like this. No one. I was dizzy with ecstatic pleasure and the confusion this whole mind fuck was creating with in me. I was delighted just being around him as much as possible. I became addicted to his smell. He would parade his floggers and ropes around in front of me when he wanted compliance on something and I never knew what to think. It would stop me in my tracks, wide eyed with wonder, fear, anticipation and a strange feeling of hunger I had never felt before.
Now it stands to reason, since we are headed down this strange and unexplored road into this startling and extreme territory at once shocking in its blatant starkness, and strangely compelling with its simple yet intense trappings, that it would be clear what is happening, or where it is that we are headed. But it isn't. Not even remotely.giving over to sensory stimulation both externally and the internal response and reaction is like unraveling an entirely new dimension of time and space in experiential reality! It is beyond conceptualization or description.
My studies, observations and research has brought me to an understanding that communication is vital and open honesty without fear of recrimination is an important part of the intimacy in these kinds of relationships. And yet the level of intimacy, vulnerability and confession one must engage in is heady and extreme in itself. Never have I been so thoroughly examined, observed and known by another human being. Never have I felt so vulnerable, exposed and scrutinized. Never have I been so overwhelmed by the power of my own desire and emotions that I cannot speak let alone meet the eyes of my lover when he asks a direct question.
For me there is no further for me to fall, the trust I have to extend and the level of intimacy far surpasses any experience I have ever even imagined. But with this realization comes fear. Fear on many fronts. The awareness that he is holding something back -not once has he used those ropes anywhere near me, although he talks the talk- and while he has spanked me in rough housing fun, and teased me with anticipation with his flogger on one brief occasion, I sense his reluctance to surrender and share more with me. It increases my nervousness and anxiety, as well as builds my hunger for an experience I am not at all certain I will even enjoy.
This sort of game playing is nerve wracking and builds an additional emotion in me about somehow not measuring up. This is not HIS first relationship in the BDSM world, and the comments he has made "there is no going back from that kind of intimacy." Make me apprehensive about my ability to cope should we break up. I am jealous and insecure at the idea that someone else still holds his true heart and soul and devotion, and has possibly hurt him even more intensely then I myself have been stung... I am overwhelmed at the possibility of feeling even more intensely vulnerable then I already do. I am terrified, and yet I want every drop of flavor I can garnish from this experience, and I feel like I want it all, now.
So perhaps this slow game of cat and mouse is actually being responsible on his part. But I just don't know. He tells me what to do much of the time and seems to have particular ways he wants me to behave as our relationship unfolds. He questions my every little action and interaction five ways from Sunday. He can read my moods long before I am ready to vocalize them. Yet when I try to play along in the strange little roles we have been developing or ways he has not anticipated or prescribed, the questioning begins and I cannot stand it.
He asks me such deeply personal questions that I don't know the answers too. He tries to sort and label and categorize my behaviors and deduce my intentions. But I am barely aware of having any for sure. Intentions? the jury is still out. questions? curiosity? urges? desires? yes. indeed, and I can barely articulate those. Maybe because He knew me better then I knew myself from the beginning I just expect him to know the rest too. I guess I want Him to Tell Me what it is I want, and whether he is gonna give it to me or not. I realize that is completely irrational and not at all the way a grown up behaves. But I rarely feel like a grown up around this man. I feel so young and vulnerable and exposed and eager to please that I can't even be considered a rational human being anymore...
I cannot be considered independent or self contained in any proximity to this man. Oh when He is away or I am in a tiff and not caring how he will take it, I am fine. Interacting with my old fan club and playing the diva, I am fine, in control making life happen. But with this man I have given up far more then ever before. I can't help myself. I want to. And yet all the feminist upbringing rings in my head to not be that girl. To not set my own life and dreams and goals aside YET AGAIN, because I am the sex slave of some man (albeit willingly). However respectable, loving or brilliant he may be. However safe and valued I feel with him... most of the time.
I have to find the balance. I have to be a grown up. I have to identify and ask for my own needs, for what I want, myself, however embarrassing or humiliating. I have to keep some part of myself separate and reserved just for health, and well being should it end badly, but it is a struggle. And I have already watched much of my life unravel, and my goals evaporate to be put off into the mystical ether. I find myself thinking I am to old to raise kids again for a third time around, and that it is time to see the world and fill my own cup and find my own sense of purpose, fulfillment and joy in the world, but all I want is the strong arms of my "daddy" and his rich; deep voice in my ear. All I want is this naughty adventure I have chosen to pursue. I just want it to be healthy for me, for him....I guess it might be a lot like chocolate brownies... Delicious and sinfully erotic, enticing and full of the promise of comfort, but easy to over indulge.
Of course I reacted internally with "whoa! This guy is kind of intense and twisted and controlling, and dangerous". And I ran away. But I explored a little and as I got used to this idea I came back a year later. Thinking to myself, "all the men Ive dated were too submissive and to easily dominated by my strong, sometimes larger then life personality.I secretly long to be completely dominated by the right man. could it be him? could he be the right man?" We went out again. I just kept liking him as a person, even though his sexual lifestyle and adventures pushed all my buttons of danger and nervousness. I simply didn't think of him as dating material.
When we got to the awkward part of the evening where I generally hug my smitten admirers good bye,thank them for the drink and the chat and wish them a good night. He didn't shrink back or slink away, instead he confidently and gently pulled me against his strong chest and kissed me. And I felt something different for the first time, a sort of deep shuddering surrender shot through me and I simply melted into his arms. It wasn't overwhelming like a romance novel, It was comfortable, easy, right, and I hoped he wouldn't let go or creep away. He didn't. Could it be I had actually found my equal? That was a very novel idea. I was intrigued.
"Bad girls get spanked" he said one day and I couldn't feel the floor under my feet. My stomach had dropped to where my bladder should be. Later, He held my hands above my head "you like that?" he said huskily in my ear? "you like my hot cock in your tight little pussy?" I lost it. No one had ever talked to me like this. No one. I was dizzy with ecstatic pleasure and the confusion this whole mind fuck was creating with in me. I was delighted just being around him as much as possible. I became addicted to his smell. He would parade his floggers and ropes around in front of me when he wanted compliance on something and I never knew what to think. It would stop me in my tracks, wide eyed with wonder, fear, anticipation and a strange feeling of hunger I had never felt before.
Now it stands to reason, since we are headed down this strange and unexplored road into this startling and extreme territory at once shocking in its blatant starkness, and strangely compelling with its simple yet intense trappings, that it would be clear what is happening, or where it is that we are headed. But it isn't. Not even remotely.giving over to sensory stimulation both externally and the internal response and reaction is like unraveling an entirely new dimension of time and space in experiential reality! It is beyond conceptualization or description.
My studies, observations and research has brought me to an understanding that communication is vital and open honesty without fear of recrimination is an important part of the intimacy in these kinds of relationships. And yet the level of intimacy, vulnerability and confession one must engage in is heady and extreme in itself. Never have I been so thoroughly examined, observed and known by another human being. Never have I felt so vulnerable, exposed and scrutinized. Never have I been so overwhelmed by the power of my own desire and emotions that I cannot speak let alone meet the eyes of my lover when he asks a direct question.
For me there is no further for me to fall, the trust I have to extend and the level of intimacy far surpasses any experience I have ever even imagined. But with this realization comes fear. Fear on many fronts. The awareness that he is holding something back -not once has he used those ropes anywhere near me, although he talks the talk- and while he has spanked me in rough housing fun, and teased me with anticipation with his flogger on one brief occasion, I sense his reluctance to surrender and share more with me. It increases my nervousness and anxiety, as well as builds my hunger for an experience I am not at all certain I will even enjoy.
This sort of game playing is nerve wracking and builds an additional emotion in me about somehow not measuring up. This is not HIS first relationship in the BDSM world, and the comments he has made "there is no going back from that kind of intimacy." Make me apprehensive about my ability to cope should we break up. I am jealous and insecure at the idea that someone else still holds his true heart and soul and devotion, and has possibly hurt him even more intensely then I myself have been stung... I am overwhelmed at the possibility of feeling even more intensely vulnerable then I already do. I am terrified, and yet I want every drop of flavor I can garnish from this experience, and I feel like I want it all, now.
So perhaps this slow game of cat and mouse is actually being responsible on his part. But I just don't know. He tells me what to do much of the time and seems to have particular ways he wants me to behave as our relationship unfolds. He questions my every little action and interaction five ways from Sunday. He can read my moods long before I am ready to vocalize them. Yet when I try to play along in the strange little roles we have been developing or ways he has not anticipated or prescribed, the questioning begins and I cannot stand it.
He asks me such deeply personal questions that I don't know the answers too. He tries to sort and label and categorize my behaviors and deduce my intentions. But I am barely aware of having any for sure. Intentions? the jury is still out. questions? curiosity? urges? desires? yes. indeed, and I can barely articulate those. Maybe because He knew me better then I knew myself from the beginning I just expect him to know the rest too. I guess I want Him to Tell Me what it is I want, and whether he is gonna give it to me or not. I realize that is completely irrational and not at all the way a grown up behaves. But I rarely feel like a grown up around this man. I feel so young and vulnerable and exposed and eager to please that I can't even be considered a rational human being anymore...
I cannot be considered independent or self contained in any proximity to this man. Oh when He is away or I am in a tiff and not caring how he will take it, I am fine. Interacting with my old fan club and playing the diva, I am fine, in control making life happen. But with this man I have given up far more then ever before. I can't help myself. I want to. And yet all the feminist upbringing rings in my head to not be that girl. To not set my own life and dreams and goals aside YET AGAIN, because I am the sex slave of some man (albeit willingly). However respectable, loving or brilliant he may be. However safe and valued I feel with him... most of the time.
I have to find the balance. I have to be a grown up. I have to identify and ask for my own needs, for what I want, myself, however embarrassing or humiliating. I have to keep some part of myself separate and reserved just for health, and well being should it end badly, but it is a struggle. And I have already watched much of my life unravel, and my goals evaporate to be put off into the mystical ether. I find myself thinking I am to old to raise kids again for a third time around, and that it is time to see the world and fill my own cup and find my own sense of purpose, fulfillment and joy in the world, but all I want is the strong arms of my "daddy" and his rich; deep voice in my ear. All I want is this naughty adventure I have chosen to pursue. I just want it to be healthy for me, for him....I guess it might be a lot like chocolate brownies... Delicious and sinfully erotic, enticing and full of the promise of comfort, but easy to over indulge.
Saturday, September 10, 2011
Intelligence and KINK?
A question was posed about the link between those with above average intelligence and kinksters... this is my response:
There are many kinds of Intelligence, and many ways to measure it. Independent thinkers learn HOW to think rather then WHAT to think. (what to think and overly vanilla comes from to much TV in formative years IMHO).
Also everyone thinks their parents are vanilla. Maybe they are and maybe they are not. DO you REALLY want the details? for many of us the answer is a resounding NO thank you! but if you come from a very open family, good for you, My daughter shares A lot with me and I honor my role as confidante.
Common sense is NOT so common in any crowd, I find Uber smart, geeky folk to be surprisingly stupid about common sense things. Absent minded professor syndrome... very amusing actually. Intelligence, like common sense has nothing what so ever to do with education! -and Ignorance and intelligence are very different indeed. I know plenty of people with important sounding tiles and degrees that couldn't find their way out of a book long enough to exit a parking garage. And conversely I know entrepreneurs that dropped out, or never even went to high school to live on the streets when their parents abandoned them, or to pursue their own quirky passions and came to pull down six figures a year, or raise amazing kids, or truly make a difference in the quality of life of others.
YES. The average intelligence is only 100. That is true, but that means that HALF the people are dumber then that. ouch. Ever try to have an actual conversation with a vegetable? (I am not talking about folks with mental disabilities who can be very sweet, I mean actually stupid people.) It is actually so painful that at any party or gathering most of us automatically tune them out in favor of a more stimulating query that can at least hold up their end of the discussion. I say "most of us" because as free thinking, consenting adults that have found our way HERE, I believe we must all be above average intelligence just to hold our own and make it this far.
For those above, or well above average intelligence (again different kinds measured different ways), Boredom is a huge and imposing factor of daily interactions with most of society, so we learn to amuse ourselves, and trust our own interpretations rather then those handed to us by well meaning others -unless asked-. And thus we come full circle to Quirky, Kinky, Freaky, Eccentric, Weird, or just plain Mean and Snobby seeming.
sorry if I sound like a self centered bitch. IQ 132, -and not good at math either. But I love people, human behavior and the humanity in us all. <3 blessings to all. Thanks for the rant.
There are many kinds of Intelligence, and many ways to measure it. Independent thinkers learn HOW to think rather then WHAT to think. (what to think and overly vanilla comes from to much TV in formative years IMHO).
Also everyone thinks their parents are vanilla. Maybe they are and maybe they are not. DO you REALLY want the details? for many of us the answer is a resounding NO thank you! but if you come from a very open family, good for you, My daughter shares A lot with me and I honor my role as confidante.
Common sense is NOT so common in any crowd, I find Uber smart, geeky folk to be surprisingly stupid about common sense things. Absent minded professor syndrome... very amusing actually. Intelligence, like common sense has nothing what so ever to do with education! -and Ignorance and intelligence are very different indeed. I know plenty of people with important sounding tiles and degrees that couldn't find their way out of a book long enough to exit a parking garage. And conversely I know entrepreneurs that dropped out, or never even went to high school to live on the streets when their parents abandoned them, or to pursue their own quirky passions and came to pull down six figures a year, or raise amazing kids, or truly make a difference in the quality of life of others.
YES. The average intelligence is only 100. That is true, but that means that HALF the people are dumber then that. ouch. Ever try to have an actual conversation with a vegetable? (I am not talking about folks with mental disabilities who can be very sweet, I mean actually stupid people.) It is actually so painful that at any party or gathering most of us automatically tune them out in favor of a more stimulating query that can at least hold up their end of the discussion. I say "most of us" because as free thinking, consenting adults that have found our way HERE, I believe we must all be above average intelligence just to hold our own and make it this far.
For those above, or well above average intelligence (again different kinds measured different ways), Boredom is a huge and imposing factor of daily interactions with most of society, so we learn to amuse ourselves, and trust our own interpretations rather then those handed to us by well meaning others -unless asked-. And thus we come full circle to Quirky, Kinky, Freaky, Eccentric, Weird, or just plain Mean and Snobby seeming.
sorry if I sound like a self centered bitch. IQ 132, -and not good at math either. But I love people, human behavior and the humanity in us all. <3 blessings to all. Thanks for the rant.
Sunday, September 4, 2011
Summer Romance
All summer I told Neal that the garden would have to be at the top of the property because of the progression of the sun during the year. We are still learning a lot about each other: Its so cute to watch him shuffle through his own ideas about these kinds of things,for weeks or months before coming to the same conclusions I did in the first 5 minutes.
Particularly because HE is so freaking Brilliant about so many things! -Especially medically and physiologically (you should be taking more iron, blah blah blah) -and actually RIGHT more then I AM -the dang lemon butt! -don't tell him I said that!. I am NOT used to being wrong very often. Of course I believe there is more then one point of view of reality that is 100% valid at any time, so maybe more then one point of view is right. Still I am learning how to be wrong sometimes. ouch.
But Neal is still learning about my instant and surprisingly accurate assessments of people, places and things (like physical science and spatial awareness)... I think he is used to always being right as well, So I get yet another lesson in patience. aaggh. -ain't love grand? But really it is. We certainly don't get bored with each other even when everything else is boring. Learning about oneself and a beloved other is what we're here for, right? What we all say we want in our relationships... LOL
The flip side is that my friend Benjamin tells me frequently that I already have the "Patience of a Saint"... gave me my own Nickname: "Saint Mesopotamia". So there is a place of balance, although it feels crazy, since Neal frequently accuses me of being the most impatient person he has ever met. How is it that somehow they are both right? Because they are. They are both right.
Particularly because HE is so freaking Brilliant about so many things! -Especially medically and physiologically (you should be taking more iron, blah blah blah) -and actually RIGHT more then I AM -the dang lemon butt! -don't tell him I said that!. I am NOT used to being wrong very often. Of course I believe there is more then one point of view of reality that is 100% valid at any time, so maybe more then one point of view is right. Still I am learning how to be wrong sometimes. ouch.
But Neal is still learning about my instant and surprisingly accurate assessments of people, places and things (like physical science and spatial awareness)... I think he is used to always being right as well, So I get yet another lesson in patience. aaggh. -ain't love grand? But really it is. We certainly don't get bored with each other even when everything else is boring. Learning about oneself and a beloved other is what we're here for, right? What we all say we want in our relationships... LOL
The flip side is that my friend Benjamin tells me frequently that I already have the "Patience of a Saint"... gave me my own Nickname: "Saint Mesopotamia". So there is a place of balance, although it feels crazy, since Neal frequently accuses me of being the most impatient person he has ever met. How is it that somehow they are both right? Because they are. They are both right.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)