The Bad In Each Other

I was just writing a fun blog post on penis size, when I started listening to this Feist song, and it was instantly derailed.  My heart can be so fickle.

Thoughts of my ex-FWB have been on my mind a lot lately, so much so that I have been dreaming as of late dreams that star him in various roles.  That all started when I had recently been thinking of him more due to things going on in my personal life that I had been wishing I could have gone to him for advice or feedback on.  I have to then remind myself why I needed to walk away from that friendship altogether, why it is healthier for me, even if at times a piece of me pangs for that friendship.  Sometimes I can still feel the ghosts of us then walking around where I stand now.  I remember my therapist telling me “I think it’s so unfair how he is with you, how he yo-yos”.  The one simple sentence was the catalyst for me really acknowledging in my own heart how right she was, how unfairly he built my heart up, and tore me down.

If you love someone, confess you are and have always been in love with them, but have no intention of ever allowing that to happen, why bother telling the person in the first place?  Why tell me?  I didn’t need to know.  I had acquiesced to my wondering.  I had accepted not knowing.  You were so cruel to confess your feelings to me.  So selfish and self-serving.  Why didn’t you just leave me alone?  I hate you for doing that to me when you had no intention of loving me.

Oddly enough, I found this song earlier this week, and it stuck with me.  These words, this stanza here, perfectly speaks to the heart of what it felt like in my heart

“Fill me up then pour me out
Therein lies the doubt.
We had the same feelings
At opposite times.”


 

“When a good man and a good woman
Can’t find the good in each other
Then a good man and a good woman
Will bring out the worst in the other
The bad in each other”

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It’s All Or Nothing

Lately my libido has been confusing me. I normally think I have a fairly high libido, as far as female libidos go comparison-wise, but it seems to be playing hide n’ seek with me recently. I spend much more time seeking it than I would care too. It used to be reliably omnipresent. I know these things ebb and flow, but my libido’s recent “no-show” is messing with my head (the little tiny pink one, that is).

See, the confusing thing is that I’m actually quite horny, but when I go to release those wonderful pent-up emotions via a little night time diddle before sleep, I can’t seem to find a fantasy that I can stick with, let alone one that really sets me aflame. This leads to me sort of diddling aimlessly, like paddling downstream with only one oar, and not really knowing where you’re going, i.e. extremely frustrating and not very much fun.

This leads me to missing my ex-FWB, but the sex with him really wasn’t all that great (despite the fact that my desire for him is insatiable, so I end up having to make stuff up. Don’t get me wrong, it wasn’t awful by any means, it just wasn’t good. It seems like a painful dichotomy to have so much sexual desire for someone you know isn’t the greatest in bed, but I guess that’s love for you. You know, I never once had an orgasm with him, faked more than my fair share, but I still loved being with him. This confuses me to this day, but I digress.

You see, I have a penchant to only really enjoy fantasizing about men that I have been with before, or may be with some day. I was never down for imagining myself with celebrities, or strangers. It isn’t what gets me off. Reality is far more exciting, or at least embellishing the reality at hand, more so than something that has no possibility of happening. To this extent, I have had extensive sexual imaginings about a gentleman in my running group, and I really have no clue if it ever would get anywhere near to happening in reality, but it sure is fun to create the vision of in my head! I guess I get off on the possibility of it. I like to imagine what his cock looks like, what it tastes like, what it would be like to ride him, what his lips would feel like, and generally what he’d be like in bed. Sometimes I feel mildly guilty or dare I say shameful for fantasizing such lucid sexual escapades with someone I literally brush shoulders with on such rare occasion, never speak to, and have weekly Words With Friends games with. LOL

You know, I am kind of picky, and it isn’t every day (or even every month) that I look at a man and feel real sexual chemistry, but this guy kissed me on the cheek at our holiday party, and I knew right then what I’d prefer to be doing with him…on top of a nearby table. Points south said “Oh, yesssssssss” This does not happen very often.

What on earth was I talking about? Wow, talk about major sexual ADD, Bat Man….panties

Fantasizing and reality….yeah, that’s it.

So, of the “usual suspects” in my sexual fantasy play book, I just can’t seem to pick one I’m happy with lately. In addition to being heavily turned on by the possibilities that reality in fantasy holds, I also like emotional connection.

Since I am not feeling the desire to connect with any of these men in reality, this is having an adverse affect on my fantasy life. I just don’t feel emotionally comfortable screwing even my own “Holodeck” images of them.

Lately, the ex-boyfriend from 7 years ago seems to be making an appearance in my fantasies. He’s the “Go To” fantasy guy lately because we had such fantastic real-life sexual chemistry, and I guess he’s far enough back in my past that I can only remember what he did to hurt me/piss me off, and I am not actively feeling it. I like to imagine us fucking in the shower because he looked so fucking amazing naked and wet, and we did spend quite a lot of naughty time in bathrooms together, be it our own, or friends’ bathrooms. *smiles* Plus, and I suppose this is such a girl thing to say, I absolutely cum over how the slope of his back looked; the delicious and sinuous curve of his spine from the rise of his shoulders to the dip right above the curve of his ass makes me wet just remembering how it looked glistening underneath the cascade of water from the shower head above. Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm. Yes, have some.

Still, in our final days he took the word “asshole” to a whole new level, so this eventually works it’s way into my head and kills my clit buzz.

So, no ex-FWB, no runing guy, and no ex from 7 years ago working out in my fantasies.

I just need to meet someone new. I need a little romance, and the invigorating “tet te tet” of flirting that ensues in the beginning chase. Of course, for me to really want this that has to be a brain flexing its muscles behind the brawn, otherwise it’s a no go.

To quote Huey Lewis, “I want a new drug. One that won’t make me sick”

In other news….these are my latest “me” splurge.  New panties make everything better.

 

Things I Would Say to My (ex) FWBs

Sometime back in September I had to walk away from a long-standing friendship with someone I love deeply.

Yes, love, not loved.  I have not stopped loving him.  If you believe in the existence of soul mates like I do, then you know what the kind of connection I share(d) is like.  I don’t believe we have just one single soul mate, rather that we have multiple, and hopefully we meet them over the course of our lifetime if we are lucky.  It doesn’t mean that everything that follows is like a fairy tale with a “happily ever after” ending.  In fact, I think the heartbreak we sometimes suffer is the dragon in our storyline.  Sometimes we win against the dragon, and sometimes, we lose.

In case you missed reading about what happened, you can read about it here.

This time last year was probably the closest we had ever been, and it’s stirring his memory in my heart now.

Here are the things I would say to him if I could.

  • Tonight I am thinking about you because this is our weather; the early dark nights of fall turning to winter, the scent of earthen leaves at the end of their life drifts in the air, and the sting of November’s chill blowing crisp and cool against my cheeks.
  • We should be sitting on the sofa in my living room decompressing from our days with a bottle of that Indian Wells Merlot we both love, and relaxing into some episode of Mad Men.
  • I started my new job today.  I know you would be proud of me.  We both had quite the year of change career wise.  We should be proud.  I wonder how your new job is going.  You could sell ice to an Eskimo.  I’m sure you have already sold your first house.
  • I left my husband last year, and I haven’t missed him for a day. Not a single minute.  But I miss you.  I even teared up just now writing that.
  • I wish you had loved me enough to never have told me how you loved me.  It makes me angry that you couldn’t just leave us the way we were.  I could have stayed in the dark.
  • It was selfish
  • I saw this Bob Marley quote and thought of you: “The biggest coward of a man is to ignite the love of a woman he has no intention of loving”
  • It was even more selfish to tell me it was “timing”, and then only really deeply hold me, truly hold me and whisper your love to me only when you thought I was sleeping.  I woke up every time.  I used to think of those moments as secret presents.
  • What hurt the most is that you were the one who always said “You won’t be happy with them.  They will never love you the way you need them to, the way you should be loved”  And then you betrayed me too.  I was supposed to be safe with you.  I trusted you always to be my friend first.
  • I hate you for taking my friend away from me, and for the boys and my daughter missing one another.
  • I wonder what the woman you picked as “safe” for you is like.  I’m not even jealous of her because I know how you keep your heart locked away.
  • Secretly, I hope she is good to you because you deserve it, but I know you wouldn’t choose someone who would be.
  • I miss Cherry Wheat Sam Adams, talking for 6 hours straight non-stop, and still having not finished all our trains of thought, and fucking on the sofa, in the bathroom, and your kisses.  You knew how to kiss better than you knew how to be free.
  • It’s too bad we couldn’t be back in that lifetime where we were on Cape Cod in our white center hall colonial.
  • The sad truth is, even if we had ended up together, if you had loved me empty like that, kept me outside while inside, I would have left you too.
  • Did you know you couldn’t really let me in even if you tried?
  • Was it not being with me that was really you loving me?  Sometimes I believe it was your way.
  • I really didn’t like A Room With A View, and that feeling you had when you watched Ghosts of Girlfriends Past? I know you feel it now in some corner of our heart.
  • I know it hurt you when I said goodbye.  I know you well enough to know that.
  • I question all my feelings, and all the things you ever said.
  • I’m glad I realized what was true before yours actions really damaged me.
  • All of this sounds far away, foreign.
  • Maybe it was me finding the shoe for myself all along.
  • Day to day, I am not sad or missing you.

Truth is, of all of it, I just miss my friend.  I wish I could have just kept my friend, but if you can’t trust someone, then the friendship is only an illusion.  It would only be like holding on to the reflection in a mirror, like that one from Harry Potter that shows you your deepest desire.  It wouldn’t be true.

You’re my deepest desire, but you are not real.

Mr. Emotionally Unavailable and the 17 Year Goodbye

I had to say goodbye to a friend yesterday whom I have known for the past 17+ years, and have been in love with for a good part of that time; 10 years or so.  No, he did not die.

I severed the relationship permanently in order to protect myself from further personal boundary violations.  I wouldn’t have called it that last night.  Last night I knew I was doing it because I could not trust him any more, and that remaining in friendship with him was not good for me.  This morning, after doing some reading, I realized what I was doing was enacting a boundary; a healthy one.

It’s too long to go into in a single post, but to sum up, it was a friendship with benefits that was really a love affair, that was never a love affair at all.  It was riddled with mixed messages; conflicting words and behaviors for which responsibility was never claimed, and always shifted.

I thought my friend who knew me, knew my issues with trust, of all people I could trust him.  And I did.  This year I learned for myself first through self-discovery, and second through factual evidence, that he was indeed never someone I should have, or could ever, trust.

If you were to meet him, you would wonder why this guy was still single in his mid 40’s.  He is attractive, eloquent, well-dressed, with a good job; the exemplary metrosexual.  He is charming, sexy, laughs easily, witty, and is devoted to his children.  And although he is in-love with romantic comedies, he is completely walled off emotionally, despite what occasionally comes out of his mouth.

I used to think he was walled off because he had built up a genuine mistrust of the female population due to being mistreated in past relationships.  Now I question my previous reality, and wonder if he wasn’t the one doing the mistreating.  He is the child of parents who were raging alcoholics.  I thought he survived relatively unscathed because he himself was not addicted to alcohol, or any other drug.  He waxes and wanes with an addiction to online video gaming.  I didn’t really think that was an “addiction” of comparable mention,  but that was when I didn’t understand addiction and addict behaviors like I do now.

It is a behavioral mechanism to lie.  He learned it to protect himself, among other behaviors.  He still does not see, not will he ever admit, that he was repeatedly deceitful to me.  And not even subtly so but, overtly so, within the past year.  What makes this transgression, these actions, so violating to me even more so now, is they all came on the heels of the end of my relationship with another man whom Norris himself rallied against for treating me as callously as he now has.  I wonder now, looking back, what other things were lies, and I imagine I know the answers.

After waiting until I had the proper time to finally clear my chest, and say what needed to be said for my closure, I ended the friendship with Norris permanently.  Although I knew that he would deny he ever lied, and would attempt to place the blame on me (or something else entirely), I still chose that verbalizing  my feelings despite this, was what I needed for closure.  Whether he really “heard” it or not wasn’t as important as knowing that I had communicated it to him.  I understood at this point, no matter how much I would like to be “heard” and have my feelings validated by him,  that my feelings were already valid simply because I felt them, and that the inability to connect emotionally was not going to change in that instant to make him choose to be accountable for his actions, let alone aware of them.  Though I know he is aware, it’s the hallmark of that addict type behavior to not be one to accept responsibility for one’s actions, or there consequences.

I will hold the following memory as one of the very best we shared.  It was a rare moment when all the walls seemed to be down.

After spending an impromptu afternoon in my bedroom making love (yes, although this is one of many times we had sex, this will be one of the few I feel safe to call “making love”), I wrote him this poem:

Complimentary
By: Portia Blush June 28th, 2004

I held the back of your neck
in my right palm
as we were sliding off the bed
me on top, sweaty and naked

I remember wanting to close my eyes
because I feared connecting
but each time I felt the urge,
I opened them wider to see you looking back

Remembering what it was like with you
nine summers ago on the carpet
we’re so different now
a decade later
trembling,
cautious, seeing more
still opening wider
so complimentary

We are like sliding doors
always missing each other
and on this rare afternoon when we fell of the tracks,
We collided
because we needed each other
psychically again, we knew where the other was
waiting

I remember everything from this afternoon, most notably, the conversation that happened before any clothing came off.  I can remember what the sunlight looked like as it streamed through the window, what the air felt like, what his face looked like as he lay opposite me on my bed with his head on my pillow, and how that was the first time he told me that Enchanted April was his favorite film, and how thought to myself how interesting that was for a man to admit.

Thank you, Norris, for 17 years of helping me learn boundaries.

Now that I know how I allowed this to happen, I begin my journey to never accept this behavior again.

Tell Me What Ya Want, What Ya Really, Really, Want

(10 points to Gryffandor if you get that reference)

Have you ever had a lover say, “Tell me what you want”, while you were in bed (or whatever place you might find yourself naked and sexually entangled) together, or have you, yourself, asked this very question of a lover?

Here I am, this woman who has been lucky enough to learn the ins and outs of my sexuality fairly thoroughly;  I know what makes me tick, tock, and even KABOOM, and as I have explored along the way, I have also learned how to be comfortable enough with myself and my lover/s to ask for what I wanted.  It’s not an easy task to say the least, and it took time to get to that place.  It takes a real level of vulnerability that a lot of people just aren’t able to access, which can lead to amassing a collection of unsatisfying experiences.  But, hey we’ve all had those, so after awhile you just have to take that bull by it’s horns.

Knowledge is power, right?

But what if you ask for something that maybe the other person isn’t expecting to hear?  What if you ask for something that they’re just not into?

I have been lovers with a friend on and off for the better part of 17 years.  He’s known me since before I even knew what an orgasm with a partner was (the key words there being “with a partner”) when my “sexploration” was all new and shiny, and for the most part, uncharted territory,   It;s fairly safe to say that he came into my life just as I was about to embark on figuring out just who I was as a sexual creature.  In fact, I had my very first threesome _and_ my very first experience with a female lover, with him.  Ah, the memories…

Now, our sexual escapades together have been fairly low key as far as I’m concerned.  Stop laughing, the threesome I mentioned is mild compared to the meat of the journey…haha…but really, in truth, we’ve been fairly standard fare lovers with each other from that time out,  in light of where I have explored without him.    Recently, this year, he asked me “Tell me what you want….tell me what to do…”.

And then it happened; that awkward moment when I wished, in a moment of self-consciousness, that I could take my answer back.

“Do you like anal?”, I queried.  Silence.

“With the right person, and in the right moment”, he answered.

We have not spoken of it since.

And I knew that answer, which really is a “No”, before I even asked him.  I was caught in this moment that sounded like this in my head, “Oh, uh yeah, me either…just kidding….hee hee”, <covers face in embarrassment>  I knew that, because in all 17+ years of being lovers with him, he’s never “made a move”, nor implied in conversation, that he would like to add that to our sexual menu.  I, being the explorer, went out on a limb.

So, there is this stereotype that all men are just longing for the “so taboo” anal sex experience, and that they are always finding their female partners to be completely reluctant, if not totally against the idea of anything even remotely nudging the puckered pink door of their nether-regions.  And here I am, the apparently, female sexual anomaly, LOVING anal sex, now feeling more than mildly embarrassed for feeling so.

Ok, I get it, even I am picky about the circumstances of playing anally, but really, suddenly I was having this total feeling of school-girl embarrassment come over me, that I had not experienced for a long time.  And it’s not like we were new lovers, we had a rich sexual relationship.  The question here being more, “Why am I now embarrassed?”, more so than, “Why doesn’t he want to?”, because honestly, we all have those things that trip our triggers, and while that might be high on my list, it doesn’t mean it will be even be a blip on his radar.

Stereotypes may have some truth, but are not an across the board rule book, and that goes both ways.  There are men that love anal, men that don’t, women that love anal, and women that will strangle the shit out of you if you even dare think about trying it.

I am one of those rare exceptions, and I love it!

So, my intrepid sexplorers, remember this; “Tell me what you want”, is as difficult a question to answer, as it is to ask.  Have some respect for the vulnerability that it takes to answer, just as you would like for having done the asking.  And always, prepare to be surprised.