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Posts Tagged ‘Sex’

He has lines, and I wanted to cross them. I needed to be dirt under his nails, sweat from his pores. There’s something enticing about someone who wants you despite his own guilt, who knows he’ll fuck the whole thing up. A year of ‘look but don’t touch’ and I had to push him.

When he kissed me, there was no hesitance, no slow build. He tastes earthy, salty, but surprisingly sweet. His hands felt rough on my face, his body against mine brand new but achingly familiar, a sense of coming home. He lived a whole life before I even existed, with his own hopes and ideals and fuck-ups and bullshit. There’s something sexy about someone with scars and lines and baggage. Who has experience and prejudice and set opinions, a sharp contrast to my changeable ideals, my fluidity towards life.

Of course it was over almost immediately, not severed completely, because people can be addictive. There is no happy ending here, but also no expectations. I shattered the fantasy. We hurt each other. I’ve never wanted something so totally unattainable like this. It doesn’t exist in reality.

So sometimes we pretend.

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‘Who knows, and does it matter?’ I scratched a pattern on the sheet. ‘I don’t think I need to define it. I’ve been there. Straight. I’m straight. But then I’m not.’

She yawned, luxuriously, not bothering to cover herself as she stretched. ‘Maybe it doesn’t matter. I just think that I deserve to know. Is this real?’

‘It’s as real as anything else.’

*******

All of my relationships have been with men. Nice, not so nice, tall, blonde, funny, smart, but all of them men. Writers and labourers and dealers and doctors. So would you assume I’m ‘straight’? Does it matter?

All of that, relationships and rules and limits, seems so far away now, almost alien. 

It took me so long to drop the labels. I wish they didn’t exist. Sexuality, to me, is gorgeous and intrinsic and can be so, I don’t know, fluid? It’s so hard to put what I’m trying to say into writing. I wish no-one had to ‘come out’, and we would just love who we love and that’s it. Isn’t it odd to have all these expectations and boxes and contracts. I understand the level of relief some people must feel when their sexuality has a name and is accepted. I’ve just always felt sort of…straight-jacketed, I guess… by labels, but it seems like society is so uncomfortable and overly invested in people not having one, and I’m insecure enough to let that bother me still.

Some experiences just are what they are, whether it’s a lasting enduring love, a passing attraction, or one intense night with someone. I don’t want to over-think and label everything. It truly doesn’t matter, and life is swirly and confusing and connections with people are special. 

I still can’t touch what I’m saying. I’ve slept with people I’ve loved and disliked and felt ambivalence towards. I change. It changes. Needs and wants change. Can your sexuality change? I don’t know. Do people have a true base sexuality that fits into one of five (? that I can think of) categories and are the layers on top a nature vs nurture type deal? Why does it matter? People do care who you sleep with. No one ‘comes out’ as straight. 

Freedom in all ways can be so intoxicating, and sometimes it seems like there’s no rules left. 

So beautiful.

x

 

 

 

 

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Now the page is no longer blank.

Someone told me to write that once, when I’ve got writer’s block.

I think it’s worked.

Thankyou to the few people who read here and emailed me to see if I’m ok…I appreciate that more than you know. I swear, you meet the nicest people blogging 🙂

It’s Sunday morning here, the sky is blue, it’s one of those gorgeous cool but sunny days. I woke up next to someone who’s not my cat, and who makes great coffee. Someone who kissed the bruising on my hands and wrists, and ran soft hands over my scar tissue skin.

We made toast and listened to U2, I’m not broke, but you can see the cracks.

Everything is temporary, but I’ll take it. Life is temporary, and mine might be a little more temporary than I was expecting, and that’s ok.

Right now, everything is ok

-deep breaths-

There are no happy endings, it’s about being here while you are. Mindfulness is about the only thing helping me right now. And noticing absolutely everything keeps me out of my own head so much, and reminds me of how special this life can be.

x

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This is something I’ve wanted to write about for awhile. Of course I mean absolutely no offense and I know there are plenty of genuine family men out there who wouldn’t dream of straying. I’m sure there are also single men with morals and standards (call me)…I just haven’t met heaps of either lately.

*****

Being single can be hard. It was hard last year, being the new mum in a small school community, from the next (also small) town. Single mums are the furthest thing from a rarity here, and despite what that says about the socio-economic structure, I’m enjoying it. When I lived ‘up the hill’ it was a rarity. I was a rarity. I was naïve enough to think it wouldn’t matter, because it wouldn’t matter to me.

I shouldn’t feel like I have to defend myself but I do. So here’s the disclaimer. I know that fairly often, when I have guy problems, some of the problem is me. I am far from a man-hater. I’ve been in a really bad head-space and at times I’ve unwittingly made people suffer along with me. Here, here, and here. Bad decisions, not being clear on how ill-equipped I really truly was for a relationship because I enjoy the fun parts, letting a nice guy try to talk me around. Not fair. Not nice. Not who I am inside.

However, in these instances I really didn’t do a thing. If a man is attached, to me, he’s unavailable. That’s it. It’s not worth the drama, and causing someone else pain. Sure, he’ll probably do it anyway. Not with me he won’t.

Yeah, I had some problems with other people’s husbands.

And I’m feeling ashamed writing this.

I just, don’t understand, I guess. One incident, which I could write pages on, was (still is, amazingly) one of my closest friends’ husbands… I mean we were all friends, to the point of him talking about how his kids from his first marriage are so close in age to me, that it felt like I was ‘another one of the kids’.

After, I was just like ‘Why? How could you? She’s in the next room. She’s gorgeous and she trusts you.’

And when she asked me to tell her the truth, I did mostly and it just sucked so bad.

That was after it dragged out for about a week, honestly one of the worst weeks of my life, with the he said, she said, wanting to vomit at every school run.

It’s really hard to be social with other mums, without getting to know their husbands. And more than once when I’ve chatted about this (without using specifics about what happened with who), one of my gorgeous friends has been like ‘Yeah, you have to be so careful. It’s not fair. You’d be totally fine with my hubby though’ with such assurance, and my heart has broken for her when it’s turned out that he’s not worthy of her level of trust.

Do men think that because I’m single it doesn’t count or something?

I know socially I can be funny and bright and helpful. But I don’t flirt with my friends partners, I wouldn’t even sit next to them. Does smiling and saying hi to someone constitute an invitation to be groped next time I pass him alone on my way to the bathroom? Does him pouring me a wine give him the right to ask me about ‘a bit of quiet fun’ next time we’re alone in the school carpark?

And you know what, if a man is committed it shouldn’t matter what I do or don’t do.

I’d be lying if I said this didn’t contribute to my decision to cocoon up in my hometown for this year.

I’m complicated. For anyone who’s been reading here for a little while, it’s no secret how much I enjoy physical affection…but these experiences made me feel cheap and dirty and ashamed. I don’t enjoy being touched uninvited, by someone who shouldn’t even be thinking of me that way. And -I’m justifying again- I never dated locally. As far as anyone knew there, I was single and celibate and happy that way. I was discreet…I guess what I’m trying to say, for lack of eloquent wording, is that I don’t come across ‘easy’, I’m not ‘known for being open with myself’, quite the contrary.

Is infidelity not as big a deal to others as it is to me?

Can anyone shed any light at all on this for me?

x

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Craig, of course.

I feel like I’ve had my heart ripped out, all over again. Until now, I hadn’t really considered life without him as a permanent state. Except for maybe in the first week.  Since then I’ve really thought it was just a temporary thing, that we’d get back together once the dust settled a bit, that he loved me and Bailey too much to let this be a reality.  Plus, of course, casual sex is never really casual.  I didn’t really think he would keep sleeping with me if he wasn’t intending on us working stuff out. I know, stupid.

On my birthday, he acted like a cunt jerk.  Sorry.  I’m tearing up just thinking about it.  He wouldn’t even give me a hug.  I should have asked him to leave at that point, because it got worse.  It was like nothing I said got through to him.  We ended up in a huge argument and me in tears in Bailey’s bed.  To top it off I was really unwell and fainted in the shower.  Sexy.

Still tried to make things better in the morning and now I wish I hadn’t bothered.

After that I thought ‘I’ll just leave it’. So I have barely spoken to him since then, didn’t ask him to stay for dinner on the weekend, haven’t asked him to help with anything, nothing. And y’know what, I don’t think he’s even noticed.  Which drives me crazy, because ‘just leaving things’ is hard for me.

It’s been two months.  I think if he wanted me he would have shown it.  I’ve tried to talk to him.  I’ve apologised sincerely for situations I could have handled better.  I’ve told him that I am willing to compromise on more.  I’ve said I am willing to forgive a lot and let go of a lot of hurt, if we can just commit to working things out.  I’ve told him I love him and am committed to this marriage.  I wrote him a five page letter.

He….um…..

See what I mean?

x

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