I just found out about a great new resource for couples to learn about each other’s fantasies. It’s an online interactive sex questionnaire called Mojo Upgrade. Mojo is an opportunity to let you and your partner discuss the things that turn you on. It’s totally free and confidential.
Here’s how it works: You tell Mojo whether you and your partner will be using the same computer or two computers (you will need to give them your email address for this option). Each person should fill out the questionnaire privately. You have to pick a gender and reveal your age. It presents a series of potential fantasies for you to indicate your level of interest: no, we already do it, if my partner is interested, and yes. It will take about 10 minutes for each person to finish.
After both partners have completed the survey, you get to see the results. Mojo filters out all of the no’s so the results are very positive. I felt like my boundaries were respected. The questions where both of you say yes are bold and purple. The ones that one person said yes to and the other was open are in bold. It’s easy to see where you are most compatible. The website even adds links to sex toys and such for things that you’ve indicated an interest to.
Joel and I tried out Mojo Upgrade. We both used my iPhone, which wasn’t ideal, but worked well enough. Answering these questions was a lot of fun. I feel like such a slut that we already do, or have done at some time, most of the things on the questionnaire. It’s also fun to realize that I have some hard limits, like brown showers and rape fantasies – those are perfectly fine things to be into, just not my kink. I thought that it was a fabulous resource for us as a couple because we’ve been in a bit of a slump recently. I tend to make assumptions about what will or will not work based on ages old information. So I don’t always ask for what I want.
Based on our results, I would say that we should be spending more time on foreplay including dirty talk, hair pulling, sharing porn, and sensuous massage. We should also be integrating more lingerie (on me) and spanking. Perhaps adding blindfolds and/or restraints. Beyond that we get a bit wild – double or triple penetration, group sex, public sex, bukkake, and pegging. Evidently Joel and I both long for romantic music, but we are likely to come to blows over musical selection. Our taste in music is quite different.
I wish I could say that we were pouring over the results together, planning the perfect date for tonight. Sadly, Joel handed me the results without looking and promptly fell asleep. But I’m excited. I know we have some common ground to work with. I can ask for what I want.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Deep dark fantasies
- Fantasy #23 – fuck me like an animal
- Queering Power Dynamics with Sinclair Sexsmith
- The coffee enema debacle
- Playful partner or scary stalker?
A week ago Harold and I got into a doozy of a fight. We don’t fight often, but when we do, it’s big. We are passionate people. We’ve worked through most of the patterns our arguments have taken, resolved the childhood issues that tangled us up, and repaired the damage our disagreements inflicted on the relationship. It’s sometimes taken us a while, but we value what we have together. This latest altercation, though, it crossed a line.
For the first time, Harold got physical with me. I’ve lost it on him a few times before, but he’s never hurt me non-consensually before. It put me in a bit of a quandary. As a surviver I have a fierce determination to never put myself in a victim role again – although my playing the victim is exactly what set Harold off. As Harold’s partner I am familiar with his emotional state and what brought it on. This is the only pattern we haven’t been able to resolve yet. We end up in the same place with every major fight. I know what he was going through.
Still, I got hurt. It wasn’t okay. He knows it; we’ve talked it all through. I was able to talk to him about how angry I was. He agreed that it can’t happen again. We really got into the heart of this pattern. I think I can avoid his particular trigger (although he is still responsible for his actions). I believe we can dismantle this series of behaviors that we get trapped in. I am now at a pretty good place with regard to this fight.
I don’t think Harold has come to terms with what he did. I’m just realizing that, despite the repair work we’ve done, there is some distance between us. Everything seems okay on the surface, but it comes out in our sex. We’ve had a normal amount of sex – 3 or 4 times since the fight – but he hasn’t orgasmed with me once. That’s never happened before.
Harold is basically a 17 year old in a sixty year old body. His sex drive is fine, but he can’t always get his cock to play along. Erections are more fickle than they used to be. Fatigue, poor nutrition, stress, and emotional upset tend to affect his ability to get hard. He’s told me that if it just doesn’t feel right, he won’t get hard, but he’s always had a hard-on for me.
This past week Harold has gotten erections and the sex has felt fantastic. I haven’t had any troubles orgasming, but Harold…just hasn’t come. Sometimes one or the other of us doesn’t come. It happens, no worries. But 3 or 4 times in a row? I started thinking about all of the conversations we’ve been having about how his body follows his emotions. I think there’s an issue.
Maybe our argument is making it hard for him to open up to me again. Maybe he doesn’t believe that I want him. Maybe he doesn’t trust himself to let go. I don’t know. But I do trust him and I want him. Maybe I’m reading too much into this because I feel insecure. Maybe it is purely physical. I want our sex life to stay as fucking hot as it’s been for the past 4.5 years. I constantly fear losing the connection we have.
Perhaps it’s that fear of loss that motivates us to keep things clean between us. I don’t want to become complacent. That’s what ruins marriages. I have faith that we will resolve these patterns between us and things will be better than they ever have been before. Love matters.
Other posts you might enjoy:
- Libido limbo
- Review: Best Sex Writing 2012
- Catching up
- Relationship problems
- Sex after motherhood
- Dangerous Girlie
Every few months, I spend about a week totally turned on all of the time. It’s as though the whole world is waiting to make love to me – the ground welcomes my very step, the wind caresses my skin, and I want to fuck everything that moves. My cunt is always wet and my nipples are sensitive. I can’t stop thinking about sex. I engage in mildly wild behaviors, like wearing a short skirt without panties to dinner, hoping he will slide his fingers into me. Or giving blow jobs in cars. Or getting myself off 3 or 4 times a day.
Then every so often I hardly think of sex at all for a while. Really. Sex just doesn’t seem that important. I’m not opposed to sex, I’m simply not turned on. If I am approached for sex I might offer to help out with a hand job or oral sex if I feel like it. I think it’s important to say yes to as much as I can while still honoring myself. It always surprises me how often I end up feeling like having sex.
The rest of the time my libido is normal for me. I think everyone has these cycles. Inevitably though, I find myself in the position of wanting more sex than my partners. I’ve just been going through one of those turned on phases. My life doesn’t allow for fucking whenever I want to. Sex is pretty much scheduled. But I am creative. I find ways to masturbate. We can do a lot of teasing and lovemaking short of actual penetration. It feeds my desire until I think I’m going to explode. Once the children are asleep, we might make love. But what if my partner isn’t interested?
We had sex the first day. The second day he got me off with fingers and mouth. It was just what I wanted, but I felt bad not reciprocating, despite his protestations of just wanting to sleep. The third day I seduced him into sex. I could tell that he was tired, but at least we were connecting. I was getting what I needed and it felt great. Unfortunately, after a while the sex felt kind of aerobic and empty. I had a few orgasms, but he wasn’t coming.
I know logically that it’s totally okay for him to not be able to orgasm. I get it. But I felt sad, like I failed him, like our bond is lessened. Occasionally, one of us orgasms without the other. I don’t mind if I’m the one who doesn’t come during intercourse because I know that I still can orgasm and likely will, usually with his enthusiastic help. But sometimes he’s in a place where he can’t come at all, no matter what we try. It seems like a commentary on my attractiveness and skill as a lover. I have to really process my feelings. I know logically that he wants me and loves me.
Worse is being totally turned on and having my partner not want to do anything at all. I feel rejected and desperate. I worry that I’m a freak. It hurts to want to share myself with someone who is not open to me. I know that I am still loved, but in the moment, I just ache. It’s hard to be vulnerable and get shut down. I’m not skillful with this. I tend to withdraw, look within myself, be alone. I feel like my desire will consume me if it isn’t matched and met. My body needs an outlet for this lust.
Maybe for that reason, we went hiking on the fourth day. I climbed a fucking mountain. I was still turned on, but the physical challenge fulfilled my body’s needs and his company kept my mind busy and my emotions happy. Afterward we drank coffee and listened to music, soothing my sensual soul. I still masturbated, but it was an easier day.
The fifth day I woke up to him making love to me. Our sex didn’t have the urgency of my increased libido, just sweetness. I felt reassured that he wanted me, wanted to fuck me. The doubts had lingered for days, but his cock pounding into me from behind left no room for ambiguity. He loves me. I’m okay. Ironically, I didn’t orgasm during our sex. I was half listening to the children downstairs and wasn’t fully relaxed. It didn’t matter, I got what I needed.
Now my libido has subsided to normal levels. I don’t know why my body goes on a bender every so often. I can only assume that it’s hormonal. While it feels fine and normal to me, I worry about what other people think. I especially want the people I love to still love me. I respect my partners’ right to say no, but I want to utilize other ways of being close, other ways of getting my needs met. I know that soon my libido will shift again and I will be the one saying no. It’s the libido limbo.
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For erotica, I’ve become a big fan of Cleis Press. I’m especially impressed with Rachel Kramer Bussel, both as an editor and as a writer. So I was curious to read Best Sex Writing 2012, never having read one of these annual compilations of what people have been writing about sex. The fact that Susie Bright was a guest judge and wrote the introduction is icing on the cake!
I’m impressed. Not all of the articles appealed to me – I even disliked a couple of them, but every one of them inspired thought. Every voice had something provocative to say in the realm of sexuality. This is not erotica. These pieces are brilliant reporting, touching memoirs, and humorous expositions. This book engaged my brain – sometimes my heart, and occasionally my libido.
It’s hard to pick out my favorites. They tend to be the more personal pieces that touch my emotions and perspectives that are very different from my own. The book is excellent as a whole, but here are a few of what I consider the best essays:
“I Want You to Want Me” by Hugo Schwyzer discusses men’s longing to be admired. I’ve heard many of my partners express this exact desire, feeling that it is somehow disgusting or repulsive to be male and wanting on a deep level to be cherished, but this is the first writing I’ve seen on the subject. I found it very honest and brave.
“Grief, Resilience, and My 66th Birthday Gift” by Joan Price describes the loss of her great love to cancer and her journey out of grief back into being a sexual person. I was moved to tears because I can so easily imagine myself in the same situation. I also was impressed by her courage in writing about the sexuality of people over 60, which I don’t see often, and her frank discussion of buying sexual services as a tool for healing.
“Guys Who Like Fat Chicks” by Camille Dodero focuses on men who fetishize overweight women, but it says interesting things about why certain things turn certain people on. It’s often hard to say why we fixate sexually on particular things. This is fantastic reporting on an under-represented group.
“Adrian’s Penis: Care and Handling” by Adrian Colesberry is a humorous look at what it is to have a penis. Despite my reservations about someone who speaks of themselves (and their penis) in the third person and writes excessive footnotes, I appreciate what he says about being male. I think there are so many misconceptions about erections in our culture – how easy it is to get hard and come. I’m happy to see an open discussion about what’s normal for this man.
“Love Grenade” by Lidia Yuknavitch is a beautifully bittersweet ode to women she made love with during grad school. She manages to capture perfectly the tone of a lost weekend. Her descriptions of the people and activities are hot, but what really gets to me is the feelings I’m left with. It’s brilliant.
There are so many more I could mention, tackling topics like circumcision, dating with STDs, slut shaming, the criminalization of teen sex, poor reporting of sex and sex violence, and Latina transwomen performing in drag shows. Collectively, these essays please me. It means that there are a lot of people out there starting the conversations that I think we should be having. Many of these conversations happen on the internet, but I would totally recommend this book for an insightful overview of the year’s highlights in sex!
Remember the first time you fell in love? I had a long distance love, where we crafted beautiful love letters to each other and rarely saw each other. We were kids exploring our blossoming hormonal states, but we were smart kids and we used words. He’s still a good friend.
Remember your first real stab at a relationship? He pursued me the summer before I started high school, the age my daughter is now. We dated for about two years – very serious. I look back with a certain soft nostalgia – he was so sweet to me, made me believe for first time in my life that I was beautiful – but I can also see the seeds of all of the problems that I’ve spent the last 20 years working through.
All of this is up because I found Mr. First Boyfriend on Facebook yesterday. He looks great. He’s lost weight since high school and now I’m guessing his body can back up his attitude. I haven’t seen or heard from him in about 20 years. It’s weird to know someone so well and not know them at all. I’m not sure what to say.
I want to thank him. He was patient and kind to me. He helped me through flash backs of sex abuse. He was my companion and my knight against a cruel world. I came to learn myself through us learning each other. I loved his sense of style as well as his sense of humor. He was not the first person I ever had sex with, but he was the person I explored sex with. We spent hours together that literally saved my life. And most important, he introduced me to the world of roleplay gaming – D & D and Cthulhu.
I want to apologize to him. I was badly scarred from sex abuse and very scared of being in a relationship. I ran away the first time he kissed me. I have always been polyamorous by nature. As a teenager, I did not have a model for how to proceed. While I never meant to hurt anyone, I think that I probably did not handle my multiple relationships with any skill. I always came back to him, but I think he would have preferred monogamy. I hope that he forgives my lack of skill, understanding that I was young and had a lot to work through.
Which makes it ironic that I also want to shake him hard. It took forever to work out my body issues after he repeatedly told me that my thighs were too big. And I want to go back in time and teach my younger self about consent because no one should EVER respond to, “I want to stop.” with, “Wait, I’m almost done.” It took me years and years to be able to say no and expect to be taken seriously. Not all of that is his fault, but it still makes me cringe when I think of it.
At least we had a lot of sex. I was his first. And still he waited 9 months for me to be ready. I recorded each instance of our sex in my journal, covering pages. I kept the wrapper for our first condom. Actually, somewhere I have a whole file of mementos of our relationship – love notes, prom pictures, and the first song he ever wrote – it’s for me! I’m sappy that way. And I like to think of how adventurous we were sexually. From terrible strawberry warming gel to fucking while he had a fever to me bent over behind the door while my mom made dinner in the next room.
We’ve both gone off in our own directions, but in a different world we might be sharing our lives. There was once a lot of hurt between us, but now I mostly feel happy for him and his successes. I wonder what he makes of me. He helped me so much during a challenging time. I like to think that I gave him things that he needed too. Actually, every person I’ve been intimate with has changed me irrevocably, left their touch on my soul. Isn’t that the power and prerogative of love?
Book: “A Year of Sex”
Author: Mia Martina
Where to buy: Amazon Kindle, Barnes & Noble Nook, Apple iBooks, and Google Books
Mia Martina’s debut memoir is brilliant! I devoured the whole book in one rainy Sunday. I generally like reading about sex, but what really drew me in was her brutal honesty about herself, how appealing she is as a person. It’s easy to care about her ups and downs over the course of a year of sexploits and relationships because she seems real. Her voice is so authentic, I want to be her friend. It helps that I can totally identify with her experiences, but I’ve never read anything like this before.
Mia offers some of the best observations I’ve ever heard about sex parties. In her book she says, “Just because you can get naked and fuck doesn’t mean you’ll want to do it.” and “I’m learning that the unknowns about couples’ dynamics are the most interesting part of attending sex parties.” Both very true, in my experience. She does a great job of examining all aspects of a sex-positive lifestyle.
“A Year of Sex” is well written, which is a turn-on in itself. While the sexual content is fabulous and hot, Mia’s story it isn’t like typical erotica; it’s real life, where sex is seldom zipless or seamless. This story titillates, but is dedicated to authenticity, not getting you off (but don’t worry, there’s a happy ending). I even loved the bonus materials: a glossary of sex terms, tips for attending sex parties, music suggestions, and resources for further research. Like parting from a lover after a weekend of bliss, I’m left feeling turned on, emotionally engaged, and sated while yearning for more.
I’m aching for Joel. He found a woman he really likes, who really likes him. They’ve spent all week talking, chatting, texting, meeting, emailing, and Facebooking. Joel has called me up, the joy, fear of rejection, and anticipation all evident in his voice. He’s seemed more alive, pleased that someone saw him and wanted him. I’ve listened to him outline all of the details and I’ve been so happy for him. He is my best friend as well as my husband. I support him in all things. We are life partners.
Ultimately, I think it was the closeness that Joel and I share that may have frightened his potential girlfriend away. She has never been in a polyamorous relationship before. It’s difficult to explain poly to people whose life experience has not given them a context. So, for the record, let me clear up some myths. (I’m speaking specifically about my relationships here, but I think that my beliefs might be true for other poly people. It’s always good to ask people directly.)
- We’re cheating on each other. Actually, we talk to each other all of the time about our other relationships. Our marriage vows did not include any promises to be sexually faithful. We never agreed to be each other’s “one and only,” so it isn’t a betrayal to have relationships outside the marriage. For the record, we also never promised “forever.” We agreed to stay together for as log as we stayed in love. Now, if Joel started seeing someone and didn’t tell me about it, I would feel betrayed.
- We have unsafe sex with tons of people, indiscriminately. Define tons. No, seriously, I pretty much only have sex with myself, Joel, and Harold. I’d like to have more sex, but my life isn’t there right now. The problem is that Harold’s wife, Melanie also has a boyfriend, who sees other people. So of course safer sex practices are important! They are extra important for us. We have 5 children to raise. Safer sex and polyamory requires trust and more communication.
- I tricked Joel into this lifestyle. This makes me laugh. We talked and fantasized about being polyamorous for a few years before we got married. We had some relationships with other people but kept them low profile. We wanted another person to raise our family with because 2 people are not enough. We assumed that would be a woman, but it turned out to be Harold and Melanie. The four of us decided to have a baby together. Joel and I are partners in polyamory, as in everything else.
- We’re unethical. No one can be perfect all the time, but ethics are VERY important to me. Honesty and open communication are the cornerstones of my life. I consider other people’s emotions as much as possible in my decision making. We’re not going around trying to trick people into things. We don’t lie about being poly.
- If we’re married, there isn’t room for anyone else. This is obviously untrue. When Joel and Melanie pushed Harold and me into exploring our attraction, no one knew what it would end up looking like. Now Harold and I are also full partners, as well as Joel and I. Everyone is equally important. In any case, I only spend 3 days a week with Joel. He has room.
- If you’re serious about a relationship, you have to get married. This is my favorite myth and I think it’s based on our cultural norms. There are lots of serious relationships that don’t have anything to do with marriage. For me, marriage is a legal contract that has to do with agreeing to raise children together. I think that polyamory gives people the opportunity to break free of cultural norms and explore each relationship without pressure. Maybe fuck buddies is what the relationship is meant to be. Maybe you just share a hobby or interest. Maybe you spend every minute together or maybe you see each other once every six months. Every single relationship is valued for what it is.
- It will harm the children. How exactly? Our children have 4 parents to support them. That’s way more stability than 2. Children only care if it affects them. Our nearly 3-year-old daughter proudly says that she has two mommies and two daddies. She feels sad for people with only 2 parents. I take my parenting pretty fucking seriously. I would not do anything that would harm my children. They are growing up in an environment of love.
- Polyamorous people don’t feel jealousy. Ha! Of course we feel jealous sometimes. You know what? Jealousy is an opportunity. It gives me a chance to look at my stuff. If I feel jealous, it’s because some need of mine is not getting met, not because my partner is doing anything wrong. If I examine my feelings, I can communicate my needs and probably get what I want. Polyamory has been a fantastic therapy method for me.
Polyamory is not the same as the Lifestyle (Swinging) or polygamy. You can not gauge my life by watching Big Love, no matter how entertaining. We are not trying to push our choice onto others. The whole point is that everyone gets to love in a way that is right for them. Joel’s friend has every right to decide that she can’t love him because he’s married. It just makes me sad. From what Joel says, she’s lonely and needs love. I hate to see people reject a chance at happiness.
I’m sad for Joel. He deserves to be seen and loved. Things are not always easy for him, away from his family so much. I’m hoping that this is just a beginning for him, an opening of spirit that connects him with someone he can really give himself to. In addition to me.
How open should I be about my lifestyle? I have my husband, my partner, and my partner’s wife as important people in my life. We’re a family. We’ve chosen to parent together. With things pertaining to the children, any of the four of us could be involved, so I tend to be pretty open and honest about being polyamorous. It’s who I am and how our family looks. We care deeply about taking care of the children. Our children should know that they can be proud of their family. They should know how lucky they are to be so loved.
I have always been upfront with school and medical forms. We have attended school functions en masse when possible. I’m rarely asked about our situation because lots of kids have step parents and such. Well, one of my children is starting a private high school next week. I was completely honest on our admission forms and they asked us about being poly during her admission interview. Joel, Harold, and I attended orientation together. Today there was another parent meeting that Joel and I went to. While we were sitting in the hall waiting, we were snuggling a bit. A mom that we’ve known for 7 years and seen sporadically, came up to talk to us.
“Are you two still together?” she asked, “Because I thought you were with that other guy. I hope you don’t mind my asking.” Actually, I’m thrilled that she asked. I would prefer to discuss it openly. I happily went through my whole spiel about how we manage homes and time and such. What I’m trying to communicate is that this is my normal. It’s not weird or shameful. This mom kind of gets it, but she still asked, “You mean, you have two guys?” before we move on to talk about bus schedules.
Yes, I am blessed with two incredible relationships with men I love very much. And we still need to figure out the bus schedule.
I wonder how many more conversations I will have like this. Will rumors spread? There are only 28 students in my daughter’s class. I’ll see a lot of these parents over the next 4 years. I want straightforward honesty instead of wild speculation. I haven’t even begun to think about how to talk about what I do for a living. That strikes me as not really anyone’s business, but it’s not secret either. I don’t like secrets.
I’m trying to find that good balance between being open and not revealing more than is necessary. I’m also trying to be on good behavior. For example, I didn’t ask the extremely hot parent if they are poly or if they would like to go out with me. See, isn’t that good? And I didn’t once mention sex toys or porn. But I think I helped expand awareness and began to create a safe environment for our poly family. Yes, I think we’re off to a good start.
Photo by David Steinberg
Have you ever lied to your lover about whether or not you had an orgasm? I have. I think that most women and some men have lied about orgasms at some point in their lives. The more I talk to people about orgasms, the more complicated it seems to be. I’ve been having conversations with both of my guys about how I’ve been less than honest and why it’s harmful to myself and my relationships.
When Joel and I were first together, we both were leaving relationships where we rarely had orgasms. We talked and decided that orgasms were not the important part of sex. In fact, the first time we had sex, after two hours I had orgasmed and he hadn’t. And it was glorious. What Joel did do was follow my orgasm energetically – meaning that he was very involved with how I was feeling. He moaned with me, he rocked, his body was in sync with mine, and when I came he felt a kind of release. It just wasn’t actually, physically an orgasm. Is that honest?
I think it’s fine to have energetic orgasms. I’ve often felt connected to my partner’s orgasm that way. I love to ride along on that fabulous energy as my lover comes. I feel the build in my body. I breathe heavier. I dig my nails into flesh. Sometimes it carries me to my own orgasm. Sometimes it pushes my partner over the edge. But often, it just feels good without an actual orgasm. So, what do I say if I’m asked if I’ve come?
Photo by David Steinberg
Early on with Harold, I said that yes, I had orgasmed. He seemed so driven and goal oriented at first. You know, one of those people who is going to make you come if it takes three hours and a power drill. I wasn’t used to that kind of focus on my pleasure and it made me feel intimidated. I wanted him to feel good about himself and take the pressure to perform off of me. And actually, I quickly began to come easily and I relaxed. I don’t need to lie.
Of course, sometimes I’ve lied in the other direction as well, especially with Joel. From time to time, I’ve said that I haven’t come when I really have. This is more complicated. I know logically that I can have as many orgasms as I want, but I feel guilty if I perceive myself as having had too many orgasms. If we’ve both come, the energy tends to dip. Do I deserve to come again? Or what if my partner hasn’t been able to come at all? Is it better to say that I still haven’t orgasmed?
I think I’m actually doing myself a disservice to lie about whether or not I orgasm. I want my partners to really know me and my body. I want to trust them in all aspects. I’m not even sure why I’ve lied at the core of it. Honesty is incredibly important to me. Sex is important to me. Deep connection to my partners means more to me than anything. How have I let little lies become barriers in our sex life?
It has gotten better over the past 3 years. I’m both more relaxed and more assertive about what I want. I’ve come to understand that I own my body and my sexual experience. It’s okay if I don’t always orgasm. And it’s okay to take longer if I want to orgasm, but it’s not happening easily. Harold is hurt that I haven’t always been honest, but he also understands that my early experiences have affected how I feel about orgasms in general.
Photo by David Steinberg
It can be difficult to tell if your partner has orgasmed. Even with boys, I sometimes have to ask. But I want to know, honestly. There are times when I scream and times when an orgasm is almost entirely an internal experience for me. I want my partner to follow with me. I want to feel connected. Being dishonest always makes me feel bad about an otherwise beautiful experience. I want sex to feel good, right? If I lie about an orgasm, I am making my orgasm about someone else and giving my power away. If I am truthful, I am more vulnerable, but I own myself completely. I can be vulnerable in this way. I vow to be honest about orgasms from now on.
I feel like a huge weight has been removed from my chest and throat. Tension I didn’t even know I was carrying has lessened enough to for me to feel lighter. And yet, I kind of feel like my date with Harold yesterday was not fully successful because we didn’t have sex.
Thing is, we decided to dedicate the afternoon to letting me talk through some of the last awful bits of my childhood abuse. We’ve made to the very darkest recesses of my psyche, but it’s by far the hardest. I’ve been doing my best to avoid dealing with it at all. Truthfully, I don’t have to do this work, but I want to be fully myself and fully as powerful as I can be. I don’t want to be wasting my energy coping, when I can just do the work and come to accommodation with my past. The abuse will always be a part of where I come from. It doesn’t have to be who I am.
So, with some trepidation, Harold and I had our date. We started by taking a long bath – talking and relaxing. Then we moved to the bed where Harold brought me to orgasm with his tongue and fingers. I was really getting off on the pain of having my nipples pinched. I wanted it harder and harder. After I finished coming, held tight in his arms, we could have fucked. But we didn’t. I just wasn’t feeling it.
Instead, I started talking. And crying. I think I cried for three hours straight. Maybe four hours. Harold just held the space, held me. I looked at some of the things that I’ve feared too much to bring into the light. I let go of all of my careful control. I let myself really feel all of the sadness and some of the anger. I went through nearly a whole box of tissues. Harold let me know how much I am loved.
I have an old deep fear of not being believed, of being thought crazy. Harold made it clear that he would love me even if I was totally crazy. He not only believes me, but is willing to walk through hell with me, step by step. He met every fear with support and slowly together we bridged the abyss. Eventually we emerged into the evening, tear-stained, snot-smeared warriors.
I wanted to make love on kind of an intellectual level, but I had to follow my instincts. I just wasn’t there. My love for Harold wanted to make him happy. I probably could have worked myself around to sex, but I gave myself some time off. Harold and I have never had to talk ourselves into sex. We will have more time, but letting myself feel this pain is a rare and hopefully short-lived occurrence. We will make love when everything flows. When the time is right. And I don’t have to make anything right by Harold.
What we did instead, was get into the shower. At first, I couldn’t. I was still so strongly in my past that flashbacks overwhelmed me. Then I stood in shower, hot spray hitting my chest, breasts, and belly, while tears continued to flow down my cheeks. I felt emptied, vacant without the knot of emotion in my core. My heart beat hard and fast against my chest, like a bird trapped in a cage. I could hear myself breathe. I looked up at Harold and said, “I don’t want this. I don’t want this to be my story. I don’t want this to be who I am.”
He wrapped his arms around me and spoke earnestly against my ear, “What you went through is a part of you. It’s where you’ve been. You need it, it’s important. But it doesn’t define you. You need to keep speaking it, because if you don’t give it words, it will keep haunting you. Don’t be afraid to tell it. Speak it over and over, until it isn’t the story of who you are, just part of your backstory.”
He’s right. Words have the power to define thoughts and concepts. If I can define something, I can own it. The vague, fearful things that used to lurk in my basement can’t hurt me any more if I can speak them. I will own them – mine, not anyone else’s. This is the power of speaking my story.
Will you be brave enough to put words to your shadows and own them?
