Sex with the X

After a month and a half of almost no contact whatsoever, it all came down to one phone call one night and BAM – SEX! We had a nice intimate encounter. Do I want to get back together with him? How can I know? I was having an out of body experience. It was surreal being in his room, on his bed, in the same way that it had always been, but it was suddenly different. We were different. There was passion, intensity, longing, pulling, pushing, desperation, desire. We were connected and disconnecting.

It felt easy to be there, to hold each other after, to be two bodies completely naked and vulnerable. Conversation was light, natural and it had a quality like homemade pie. Just pure goodness. I took nothing for granted, not like before. I cherished every moment our skin touched, every kiss, every time our eyes locked. I left at the perfect moment. He didn’t ask me to stay. He saw me to the door. Will you regret this? He asked. Probably, I said. Thinking to myself the opposite, I regret nothing with you.

5 Stages of Break-up Grief

Everything was perfect between us except for this one thing: I was in love with my boyfriend but he wasn’t in love with me. So we ended it. For my part I immediately fell into a rapid cycling of grief expressions. We are none of us alone in this. Here I apply the five identified stages of grief to my own experience.

Denial: Ever since we split I have been spending most of my time in a state of denial. I find it is easier to remove myself from the sadness of reality by fantasizing about getting back together. My favorite version of this fantasy is one where my x and I meet unexpectedly in summer. I have a nice tan and a new haircut. I am happy and smiling; life is fine because I have moved on. He sees me and suddenly realizes that he loved me all along and life is empty without me. It all moves along nicely from there. Version two of the get-back-together fantasy: It is next week and  a cold, rainy night. He shows up at my door. He brings flowers. He begs me to take him back, and I, compassionately, tell him all is forgiven. I get somewhat agitated every time I realize that I am not predicting the future, or even forecasting a likely scenario. I am simply in denial that this break up is for good. At this point in time however, it brings me a relief from sadness that would follow if I rushed into cool acceptance of the facts.

More on Grief and Denial

Moving on…

Anger: Admittedly, I am prone to moments of anger. Why the hell don’t you love me! How could you be with me all that time and not love me? I am enraged by own unlovableness and my x’s unloving of me. This sentiment is followed often by tears, stomping and pounding into the pillow until exhaustion takes over, or I remember it is time to go to work. (Luckily, I am always able to rely on denial to lift my mood and allow me to get through the day.)

And once again, moving on…

Bargaining: This is the most annoying of all because I constantly beat myself up over causing the break up with my stupid need for love. Why couldn’t I just settle for less than perfect? He said, “I care about you” – why wasn’t that enough? Why didn’t I just wait to see if deeper feelings evolved over time? Perhaps seven months isn’t sufficient for some people. Maybe if I call him now and explain that I have made a terrible mistake, that I am happy to take whatever he is willing to give… maybe we can get back together and put this fiasco behind us. *Sadly, I cannot allow myself to do this. I want to love and be loved. It is simple, and I remind myself to be true.

Depression: Based on past experiences, I would say that I am prone to depression. Strangely, I have yet to experience any signs of depression over this break up. I mean, why am I not on the couch day after day with empty icecream cartons all around? I fear that may come later. In a queer way, all my sadness has created an abundance of energy, which has been channeled into manic activity. I suddenly rollerblade again. Not since I was 13 have I felt the urge to rollerblade. I suppose this is depression disguised as anxious distraction. Different sides of the same coin perhaps.

Oh, God… have we come to this point already?

Acceptance: Okay… I haven’t quite gotten here yet. I have not accepted this break up. If I had, would I be writing this now? Part of me says, “It’s all for the best” while all the other parts of my psyche are still caught up in the first four stages of grief. I believe that acceptance will come later, after everything else has been processed and I no longer yearn. Of course, even thinking that this is a possibility, I fantasize that as soon as I accept this break up that I may immediately call my x and see if we can “just be friends”. Right… Now I start to cycle all over again, starting with denial.

Another day, another reflection on the art and experience of loss. Later, I will write about the blessings and gifts of this life, staying true to my idealistic nature.

(* Reposted from April 7, 2008 with revisions.)

Wrong Way to Break the News

I suspect that someone has discovered my blog. Someone who I never wanted to read my blog has read it. How terribly irritating.

I have been planning to terminate my 2 week affair with a certain individual who I find to be absolutely adorable and charming. He is a wonderful person and I couldn’t ask for more great qualities in a mate. However, there is just something missing. Some kind of intense spark, some kind of connection. We are just not that compatible. Sure, in the physical realm we had it going on, but otherwise, things always felt superficial. Even when we talked about really deep shit, it was wholly uninspiring, not at all challenging.

So, I did not come to realize my dissatisfaction until he had left town for the holiday weekend. During that time I fell head over heels for someone else. Someone very different. The Mr. X mentioned in previous blog entries. (See “Sex Among Friends”, “Dropping By” and “Playing Hard to Get”). Am I a slut? Hardly! I never committed to sleeping with one man. I promised to be honest, and intended to follow through with that promise. I wanted desperately to tell my 2 week long lover of my change of heart and intentions, but so did not want to do it over the phone. I prefer to say, “I don’t think it’s working out” in person. It’s feels more ethical somehow. I was hoping we could still be friends because there are a lot of things about him that I really enjoyed.

Alas, all my plans were all for naught becasue I sense somehow that he cyber stalked me and discovered my secret blog-o-sphere and gleened much of the truth for himself. Now, I have no work to do as far as closing that chapter. He has done it all by keeping silence. Personally, not my style, but if it works for him, that’s alright with me.

In the meantime, Mr.X continues to be unavailable to me and I have given up entirely. The last real talk we had involved much on the subject of sex and I believed that somehow it would all work out. Unfortunately, it seems that for whatever reason, that road is blocked off and I must take a detour. If ever my delightful friend from work becomes available and wants me, I’m sure my lack of self esteem will aid in flinging me right back into his bed.

Playing Hard to Get

Playing “hard to get” is a classic game involving two people, one playing the pursuer and the other: the pursued. The rules of the game are difficult to grasp, and require skillful mastery of the art of role play. The crux of the game is dependent on the mutual attraction of players. One wants to be chased after, while the other wants to do the chasing. Both play the game in order to prolong the anticipation of fulfilling their desire to be together. As the pursuer it may be difficult to judge whether the other player is actually playing the “hard to get” part, or is really not interested. If done correctly, they will not fail to drop hints, signals, cues that you are both indeed on the path to achieving what you both want.

 

I recently had a failed pursuit. Usually, I am the one being pursued, but tend to give in quickly as I pass myself off as a girl who “doesn’t play games”, and have no strength to hold out when I really want something. I will admit however, that games are fun as long as no one gets hurt. Playing hard to get can be thrilling, increasing sexual tension through suspence. So until yesterday I thought I was pursuing willing prey through a tangle of innuendo. I was absolutely positive that he was as intent on seeing the game all the way to the expected conclusion, until suddenly, it just didn’t make sense. He was sending new signals, indicating that he had quit and thought I should too. Of course, he never said, I’ve thought it through and I don’t want you after all. He simply walked off the field.

 

Shocked, I still don’t understand what happened. On my end, I feel again rejected by someone I wanted. Little over a month ago my steady boyfriend broke it off, and now this. I don’t know how much rejection I can take before I lose my confidence all together. Am I getting old? Fat? Ugly? What happened? I used to see something, want something, get something (in that order). Now, it seems the great and mighty Universe is working against me. Acheivement is slippery, I can’t seem to get a handle on life or love. I am floundering in a sea of confusion and self-loathing is creeping up my spine.

 

There are no answers here, just the simple facts of the matter. Rejection sucks, especially when it leaves you wondering exactly how much of a jackass you made yourself out to be before walking away.

On My Mind

(From Sept. 7, 2004)

 

Asking the same question today: might I perish from unhappiness? Is it possible? If I let go will no one dare follow? With what little words could I hope to lure them to this same piteous end? Even I loathe myself and would walk the other way.

 

Kill! (Who said that?) For time is killing. Kill yourself because you fear to hurt anyone else. Too much legality. Perhaps? Or does it not allow one to be sufficiently self-absorbed? Homicide, no matter from what angle, is always about someone else. Suicide: now that exposes true strength, will, the most disturbed of psyches. It breaches the very laws of nature. Murder of another does not.

 

I went for a swim today. How nice the water and stretch of my young fibers suspended above cool depths. The slide of filaments thrills as all release and I expand; they pull together and I contract. I smiled today and knew peace.

 

Now as I sit down to write, the sun is setting. No warmth in September’s lake after dusk. Darkness within crawls up my spine to hunch low in the brain. This sickness is maddeningly slow. The mind is a trap. Not like steel jaws to catch quick wolves. Snap and it’s over. She is a cleverly designed labyrinth. We lose ourselves and think to hear from a voice like God one constant imperative:

Run mousie. Run!

Grace

Grace may be the love of a mother

Though her gift be not sought

And so it is:

The crysanthemum blossom releases her essence

In the fine china cup

As the water boils her to tea

We – humanity – drinking

Subdued

Into my quiet eternity, solemn and gravely deficient, came the sounds of children, unaware but for the now in which they moved, the constant motion of their feet, hearts, hands, they chased each other round the field, afer the ball, the sounds of their own absoluteness drowning out all others and they of me, unaware

Walt Whitman followed me to the bathroom, the quiet public space with its echo, dirty floors, lack of sanitation and the stench of something old and fecal hanging on the walls, in the air – even here the verses of poetry flowed over me, closing my eyes, my breath shallow to listen

Utterly alone, as in every moment, the knowledge of youthful action – the sounds of which hung just a door’s opening away – the park, and why had I come here today? To see the sun on the grass, to smell the fresh bloom of spring as she opened up her sex to the wind, to simply be, to see if I could just be or if the words would follow, asking me to speak them, to write them, to birth them from their formless world of thought

Press the pen to paper and ink angrily accepts this fate, as do I. Slave to the art, captured by the mind, not the body. How much would I have to give to find the rhythm of my heart, beating furiously? The children run and smile and laugh and play and not a one worries for tomorrow.

Was I ever such a child? No. Sadness, grief, isolation, deprivation, condemnation, degradation found me too soon and even at seven I stood by the field watching. My body tight, my hands covered or in pockets. I yearned to feel as they feel – still I yearn to detangle myself from this spot and move into the space of possibility

Where is my body electric? Where is my ecstatic self? Whitman promises a myriad of physical delights in his words and I follow the piper to the water’s edge but will not touch toe to swim. Salvation comes in the act of loving, in the lustful and delicious passion.

Give me a lover who will crush and destroy the sacred inner world and force me into the body, and beyond where my lonely soul waits with abundant joy. Send me a lover who will force  me open and penetrate to the core of existence- the being, the been, the will be of my ness. Grant me the gifts of surrender and long desired serenity.

Dropping By

There is no romance, no suspence, no mercy when you text me to drop on by

Still I show up, filled with weeks of anticipation, greeted with suspicion

How I would love for this to be easy, but you squirm and resist and I am confounded

There is no charity on my part, no scheme, no calculation, no conscious desire for anything but to be near you

Why the pull, why the fascination? With you I feel electric – even since before I knew I wanted to sleep with you

Warm and rough, but shallow and short lived, you take me without meaning it – as uncertainty drags you out and away

I want passion, to let go compelely, in a moment just be empty and full at the same time

Craving the isolation of two and the ecstatic life of the now

Eat for a tasty treat!

Okay, this may be a taboo subject and seem crass to some, but it is an important issue for those of us who enjoy good sex. So let’s consider how women can alter the taste of their vaginal fluids through what they put into their bodies.

The two things to consider are pH (essentially, acidity) and infection. Being free and clear of infection is crucial to having a healthy and delicious pussy. Both of these are dependent on good diet and hydration. Yeast infections are more common in women who eat fast/processed foods and drink alcohol on a regular basis. If you have chronic yeast infections then consider a radical change in diet by going to this site: http://www.everydiet.org/diet/candida-diet

 

If you just need a place to start, then here are lists of foods to include and foods to avoid.

AVOID:

1- Refined “white” sugar – don’t ever add it to your food, and stay away from cookies, cakes, those kinds of things. It will not make you taste “sweet”. In high amounts, sugar is dangerous to our bodies.

2- Alcohol – anything with yeast (especially beer) is to be avoided. Vodka, whisky and rum are also bad. If you absolutely must drink, go for a little wine or tequila.

3- Wheat – consume as little wheat as possible. Best to consider cutting out bread completely.

4- Asparagus – this will only alter your taste temporarily, so indulge only when you know you’re not going to be inspected. (also, keep away from broccoli and brussel sprouts)

5- Garlic – while this is very healthy for detoxification and keeping your immune system healthy, it can really stink up your whole body, including your vagina. So eat it in small quantities and consume it in raw form if possible.

5- Coffee – this alters the pH by increasing acidity. So don’t drink it every day and don’t drink too much when you do.

 

INCLUDE:

1- Yogurt – only REAL yogurt that doesn’t have sugar added to it. Add honey and fruit instead if you like it sweet.

2- Citrus -  eat as much of this as you like. Oranges, grapefruit YUMMY!

3- Water – Drink plenty of water to keep yourself hydrated and you will notice that your fluids have very little taste or smell if any. Your optimal water intake is 1/2 your body weight in ounces. So if you weigh 120lbs, then you need 60oz of pure water every day. If you drink coffee, sugary juice, tea or soda this goes up. For every cup you drink, add two cups of water to replace the fluids lost. Carry a water bottle to reach your daily goal.

Honesty brings me here

(Letter to a new lover)

I know we both went into this exploration with each other hoping to start a meaninful relationship and that is what I want to address. In being entirely honest with myself I have to admit that I don’t see that happening right now. While I do want the same soul connection and sacred partnership that we have talked about, I’m not willing to force the issue. I believe these things take work, but that they happen naturally and without strife. It should feel easy, especially in the beginning.

You mentioned today that you thought we were not compatible and it strikes me that there is a strong element of truth in this. It may be that we simply do not know each other well enough, or it may be that no matter how much time we spend with each other, that there will always be something missing. What is present for both of us however, is physical, sexual attraction, which as demonstrated manifests quite nicely. I think we have developed a good dialogue around spiritual growth and discovery and that is something else I really enjoy and feel greatly benefits me in my life right now. You are exactly what I asked the Universe for and I’m so happy to have found you.

My main conclusion about us is that we are both striving hard to see in the other our perfect mate, and finding some measure of dissapointment. Nothing can evolve naturally in this state. So my request is that we stop trying to force the issue and enjoy what it is that we actually have together. We have chemistry, we have spiritual discourse. I want to continue to enjoy these things with you. If a relationship evolves it will do so naturally. But we must agree that if we continue to have problems with compatibility and continue to set each other off, without making real progress, that we end the relationship and move on to the next phases of our individual development.

I know that you would prefer that we had this discussion in person, but I think more clearly when writing, so it is easier for me to start this conversation in this way. What I want is for us to be honest with each other and just see where the wind takes us.