Sapiosexual

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When I first met Dante, he was just a bunch of words on my computer.  I met him through the Live Journals of some friends that actually knew him.  He lived hundreds of miles away and consisted of some ideas and icons on a screen.  I was at the end of my marriage, which was crumbling beneath my feet, and this stranger provided support as I typed out some of my heartbreak into my own journal.  We continued to interact, moving into emails and into IM chat, which was new to me.  I was in awe of the ability to type with someone in real time, having a conversation back in forth through writing.  We logged in many hours and many more words together, typing late into the evenings and nights, philosophy and creative expression flowing naturally between us almost effortlessly.

We continued and increased our level of conversation over the months.  My marriage ended and he was there to read my writings and comfort me.  Our language started to become very poetic and intense.  We poured emotion onto each other, each one of us longing for the attention the other had to give.  See, Dante didn't realize it, but his marriage was in trouble too, and I think he was desperate for interaction. I felt rather confused that I was developing feelings for a person that I had never met, it was so intangible.  How could I become so infatuated with someone almost solely because of their words?  How does that even happen?

Dante and his wife planned a trip to my city for a long weekend that summer to visit my friends and to meet me.  The weeks and days leading up to the meeting were filled with so much fear, anxiety, and nervousness.  One of the things that plagued me was this idea of being intellectually and sexually attracted to this idea of a person, one I had never met in the flesh. I was concerned that perhaps I might not be sexually attracted to him upon meeting him. I wondered if I didn't find him sexually appealing, would the feelings I had developed over the months getting to know him be cancelled out?  And if they were, would that mean I was shallow?

Upon meeting him, I was immediately attracted to him.  But there was a period of several hours of adjustment that took place, probably for him too.  When you develop this fantasy about a person: how they look, how they speak, how they move... it is a strange and somewhat confusing feeling to see the reality of the person for the first time, and it takes a while for it to settle in.  At least, it did for me.  And I wondered if I would have been attracted to him if I met him for the first time off the street, or if I was attracted to him because I had already fallen for his mind, or if I was just flat out attracted to him upon sight, regardless of the intimate history we had already shared. And how would I ever know? And did it matter? Because damn it, I was really deeply infatuated by that point.

That relationship crashed and burned for a variety of reasons, but I learned a great deal from it.  I am reminded of this early encounter and the confusing and exciting days filled with New Relationship Energy and all of these remembrances about falling for someone primarily because of their mind and then later because of their physical presence.  I am reminded, by the way, because I have been having a similar experience lately with someone new.  It started with liking this gentleman's FetLife profile full of exciting wordy thoughts and later meeting him at a Munch, and then spending more time getting to know him by chat and email.  While I very much liked what I saw when we met in person, I am much more overcome by that familiar feeling of words washing over me, feeling pulled under into a sea of ideas, desire swirling as thoughts are shared through computer screens.  The difference this time is that the waiting has not been so long between the idea infatuation and the physical meeting, so perhaps I have been less inclined to over-think these things, but I am certainly reminded of those early conversations with Dante.

Brave Vision

I am striving to enjoy the beauty of each moment in this full life I lead.

  I long to revel in the excitement of meeting someone new, spending time talking, flirting, and smiling while learning all about someone and letting them into my life to learn about me.

I desire to be happy and hopeful, full of possibility and exploration, at the thought of a potential new friend or lover. And I desire to express my hopes fully and risk breaking my heart to do so.  I am ready to put my heart out to the world, prepared for it to be swept away some times and crushed other times.

I will no longer be numb, or feel trapped, or hide in the darkness because of fear.

I want to have all these things and come home to my sweet guy who I love and to be able to tell him all about it, sharing with an unrestricted heart.  I want him to be happy for me and be accepting and loving and I want to be able to be here for him in the same way someday, if he has the same experience.

These are my dreams for a life that I think is possible, someday.  Maybe someday soon...

 I want to have these things without the monsters of guilt and insecurity biting at me. These monsters are my own creation, growling inside of me, snapping at me when I seem to have a quiet moment of peaceful happiness. They are monsters I have created in response to a long unhappy marriage. They are a reaction to societal pressures and norms that I want to fight against, things I always end up slipping into thinking I should be as a woman or partner or wife.  These monsters are brutal, and they hold me back, and I need to start to learn to tame them.

Benefits of Breath

"Canary" by Kate MacDowell.  Porcelain and lighting.

I have been making a greater effort lately to lose some weight and get healthier.  I had been doing well but had a setback in the form of an ovarian cyst which made me sore and very tired for a couple of months.  But I seem to be managing the pain now (quitting coffee seemed to help) and I am working hard to go to the gym more often and make better food choices.

I haven't liked working out at the gym.  While I understand the health benefits long-term, the short term benefits don't seem to ever add up for me.  Weight loss is slooow.  I see little progress. It takes a chunk of time out of my busy day which I resent. I end up tired and sore and that makes me lose more time. 

People tell me that you can get into a groove if you practice enough.  That the soreness will pass and as you get stronger, it will feel more beneficial.  I can see this starting to happen, ever so slightly. I am able to use the elliptical machine for longer and burn more calories... twice as much as I could a month or so ago. I am no longer gasping for breath after a few minutes with sore lungs and an uncomfortably pounding heart. So that's progress!  I don't know if I could say I really like it, but I am starting to see some progress that appeals to me.  The hot tub time at the end of the workout has been my incentive, as I love the sensation of hot bubbly water on my flesh, but I would like to enjoy the workout itself, so I am searching for greater benefits.

I have started to pay more attention to the music I choose while I work out.  And I have been choosing music that has an erotic or sexual appeal to me.  It started with some old 80's Ska, which always makes me feel a little tingly, with its fast beats, sexy cockney slang, and intelligent lyrics.  One day at the gym, I had an all Ska workout, and I ended up feeling not only work-out-sweaty, but sexy and a little wet as well.  Apparently, I got pretty turned on!  Maybe it was the music itself or maybe the music plus the motion.  I tried to envision myself dancing a bit, and I put some hips into it and moved to the beat.  Since then I have been looking for music that turns me on  and have been adding it to my iPod.  As I have progressed, I find myself getting more than wet from a workout...  I am damn horny!  Maybe that is a reflection of what is going on in my life as well, as I have been very aroused lately in general.  I am likely too reserved to acutally orgasm at the gym while working out, but I may be coming close.  I try to visit when there are fewer people there, so as to not make a scene.  Orgasms are definitely a benefit to working out!

And I mentioned lung capacity.  I have seen my increase in lung capacity help me in maintaining longer orgasms during sex lately.  I have discovered I have these nice, long rolling orgasms that can last for several minutes, with waves of orgasms followed by quiet periods of time where I am trembling and "holding on" to the feeling so I can "catch another wave".  I have been experiencing these for a while, but I usually can't hold on too long, because my lungs start to feel sore and I get light headed.  Who wants to stop such an amazing experience for something as silly as "breathing"?  Heh, I guess it is important or something.  And now I think I can have longer waves and have been concentrating on slowing my breathing to make them last as long as possible.  This is clearly another benefit to sticking to my workout schedule!

I am proud that I have been going to the gym on my allotted 3 days a week for a few weeks now.  Aside from these obvious sexual benefits, I hope to actually start to lose weight and feel stronger and active soon.  And perhaps I can actually learn to have a quiet orgasm on the elliptical... who knows?  It's kind of hot to think about, actually.

When I checked in at the gym today, the gal at the desk told me that my limited 3 day account is now upgraded for free.  Now I can go in anytime I want, any day, as if it was an omen from the sex gods to keep up the good work and good orgasms.

Domestic Demons

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So I had a minor setback in my dedication to not feel guilty and stupid about the kind of relationship that I am seeking.  I was getting ready to drive to see Modu for a play date last week.  Damascus was planning to stay at home (my home) and do some errands and chores and have the night to himself.  This is sort of new, in itself, as he is not usually here alone.  I don't at all mind him being here alone... it actually makes me feel safe to know he is looking after things and I am sharing my home with him... but there is a part of me that feels bad leaving him alone.  Particularly when I am going out on a date with another man, which is essentially what is happening when I go see Modu, I guess. 

Anyway, he did a load of laundry, and he threw a pair of my pants in too.  Of course, my pants had a tube of red tinted lip balm in it.  I would say that almost every load of laundry I do contains a forgotten lip balm tube, or tissues, or some other thing that is not supposed to be washed.  I am forgetful and not very attentive when it comes to laundry and other household tasks, so it happens often I deal with it.  I basically work around this by never buying white or light clothing, because I know my careless self too much.  But Damascus' shirt was white, and it is now ruined.

Perhaps it was the timing of the day and the lingering guilt I felt about leaving him for the evening, or perhaps it struck a nerve in me the way it might for other conflicted third wave feminists.  Part of me felt bad for not being the kind of woman who took care of my man, the way my mom did for my dad or my grandma did for my grandpa. It's the same way I feel bad for having a messy house and not being very maternal and wanting to cook and feed and comfort my guy. I am simply too busy with work and other things in my life to give a shit about things like my own laundry, let alone someone else's. Of course, I know that I work very hard at my career which takes up almost all of my time, and I am not only self sufficient in taking care of all my own expenses, but I also usually am financially able to provide us with our extra entertainment money for dinners and outings and vacations.  So logically, I know that I shouldn't hold all the responsibility for the feeding and cleaning of another person who is also able to take care of himself, but it is so ingrained into me that it kicks my ass sometimes.

This sort of thing happened often in my marriage with Intaglio. But it was even more confusing.  He expected us to take on traditional male/female household roles, yet he wouldn't hold up his end of the deal and had difficulty if I tried to hold up to his standards.  If I got too house-wifey, he would reject me because it reminded him too much of his mother. So he would push me away if I was too maternal and caring, while still demanding I was a "good wife".  I don't think I will ever understand what that means. Also, I was for many years the one responsible for all the bills, as I almost completely supported him.  So he wanted a wife, caregiver, domestic goddess (but not too much), yet fully independent woman all at once and wanted to take care of me, but never put in the work to support me financially or in any other way.  It is no wonder I was confused then and I am still confused now.

And the thing is, Damascus wasn't mad about the shirt, and he was rather confused why I got all panicky and weepy about the whole subject.  He took responsibility for his own laundry.  He did not blame me at all.  But I did, like the self sacrificing demon that I am.

 In fact, he laughed it off, sent me on my way with the wish to have fun on date night, and told me he had the mind to contact Modu to tell him what a bitch I was being to myself, and that I should be properly punished with a good spanking.  Which is just about the sweetest, most twisted sentiment of love that I have had expressed to me.

Bound

I have been browsing the pictures on FetLife lately and have really been struck by the beauty of the rope bondage.  I have seen a little bit of it before and it has interested me, but I haven't spent much time really studying it and thinking about it until recently.  And now that I have discovered so many beautiful examples, my mind has been wandering lately to fantasies about being tied up and bound.

I am an artisan by trade and spend all day long working with my hands.  If I am not doing something with my hands, I get rather fidgety.  This is good for my career, because I am always wanting to work, but when I am not working, I probably appear jittery and neurotic, as I try to sit still or spend my time obsessively puttering with things in order to fulfill my compulsions to do something with my hands.  On occasion, when I am working very hard, my hands get tired, or at least I feel like I want a break.  I am usually not wise enough to allow myself to take breaks and to spend time being still, but I am learning.  One of the important things I have learned about myself with BDSM is how much I enjoy the moments of stillness, quietude, and inactivity.  In fact, I take great pleasure in them, but I don't often give myself time or permission to enjoy these things in my busy daily life.

I think this is part of my interest in BDSM... I seek it as a way to escape sometimes...as a way to take a much needed break. I almost have to force myself to take the time out for myself, which is difficult especially when I am very busy.  And once I have given myself permission for the off-time, I have enjoyed giving up further permission to my play partner to demand that I hand over control to him, making me stop worrying about my life and work woes for a short time, stop fidgeting, and focus entirely on the pleasure and pain of that very moment. I find myself craving this more and more lately, and I am trying to acknowledge the craving and pursue it as ethically and honestly as I can.  Perhaps I hope that the practice of bondage will help me train myself to sit still... maybe it could prepare me for meditative activity.  I think sometimes it helps me to give someone the permission to force my hand (or my will) so that I can learn more clearly.

I think I will start to ask for some elements of bondage to be incorporated into play.  And one day, I would like to try to try to be still enough for some of the more elaborate rope bondage that I have seen. Damascus has shown an interest in ropework as well, and while he doesn't seem to care for many of the DS elements of kink that I crave, he does like things that are sensual and beautiful, so this might be something that we can enjoy together.

I dream of the experience of being bound beautifully in rope, my hands and mind quieted and at peace.