One of the things about communicating with your partner is that the conversation is never over. Even when you kick something down the road it comes back around in time, even if it’s just about it percolating in your own head.
When you’re not afraid to bring up what you want then wheels get put into motion.
Or you hear something you’ve always wanted to hear, or something you didn’t realize you always wanted to hear, or something you never want to hear again.
You may hear that your partner has interest in exploring the same things as you and feel even closer to them.
You may hear that they have interests that will never click with you, that are red flags and that help you get out faster.
You may hear that their erotic imagination doesn’t exist, which could be a turn on or turn off depending on who you are.
You may hear that they’ve never been tested, so you can keep yourself safe.
You may hear that they were recently tested but would love to do whatever will make you feel comfortable.
They may use sexy phrases like “I’m fully in support of however you’d like to manifest this inclination. And on whatever timeline.”
Talking is… well, it’s just the best.
So I met this lovely guy and upon our first meeting things got physical.
Afterwards, we talked for a while, realized, who knows, this could be a real thing, lets exchange numbers and hang out sometime.
And for a week he pestered me to come over.
Why don’t we go out, get tea or something?
Or I could come over. Late.
And I kinda lost it.
I told a friend the whole story.
He has already had the greatest dessert in the world
and wants seconds
THANK YOUWith a teeny tiny side dish of “WHY MUST MY PERSONALITY BE THE BROCCOLI AND MY VAGINA BE THE ICE CREAM?!”
I think that every dating person (maybe just every person) has a thing that their lizard brain is afraid of, your body is the only part of you anyone has ever loved all the way up to you’re too ugly/fat/short/tall to be deserving of love. A thing that lurks there in the back of your mind leeching that feeling into your body and waiting for words to put to it. And as soon as you feed it such a phrase it grows to 5 times it’s size and takes up residence in your inner ear, flooding your brain with it’s particular brand of sweet sweet nothings.
My personality isn’t broccoli, my vagina isn’t ice cream. All of me is caramelized onions, delicious in every way.
But when I scream that at the lizard she doesn’t cower, I need a sentence that can put the lizard back in her cage. I’ll never be rid of her but I can learn to be louder than her.
The lizard is your friend, but a little scary, too. She lurks deep within, operating on millennia of aggregated evolutionary knowledge, so she remembers a lot. Like how for thousands of generations, women required strong relationships with strong men in order to simply survive. How, without someone to protect them, our foremothers were vulnerable in every way. How dearly so many of them suffered for it.
So when a liberated modern gal such as yourself contemplates leaving a romantic relationship, even a middling-to-shitty one, the lizard feels she is honor-bound to make you stop, to get right up in your face and scream stuff like you’ll never do better and you’re not getting any younger and you’re lucky to have anyone at all and any man is better than no man and THESE ARE FACTS DAMMIT!
Now, given what she’s seen, her reaction is completely understandable. But it screws up your life, too! Because she ensures that even here in the future that is now, and even when you know you’d be far better off on your own, it still feels like the act of breaking up might actually kill you.
… it slithers up from the the dankest sub-basement of consciousnes and demands our attention whether we like it or not. And if we want to be able to operate rationally in this realm, to have enough faith to let go of bad stuff so we can find better stuff, we have to learn how to handle it.
Thankfully, this can be done! How? You just never let the lizard be in charge. She is trying to protect you in her loving creepy way, so hear her out and be sweet to her and maybe give her some nice bugs to eat. But don’t forget that she is willing to make tradeoffs that you are not. Really awful tradeoffs. For her, any man really is better than no man, and that is bananas!! So listen to the lizard but decide what to do with the rest of your brain. Never ever let her
get wet or eat after midnight ortake control. [x]
The first time I had sex I called my mom too. Not with such speed though.
When I was younger my mom really loved to watch Gilmore Girls together and fantasize that we could be as open with each other as Rory and Lorelai.
All I ask is that when you do you have sex, you tell me.
With that look that says I’m going to be really disappointed if you don’t.
So when I did it I promised myself that the next time I spoke to her I would tell her.
So I didn’t call her for a while. “A while” for us means about a week. And then when I had to ask her something about flight information or whatever I called her and I made myself make it the first thing I said.
And she was cool enough about it I guess. She asked how it went. My review was not a rave, she was bummed on my behalf. She asked if she could tell my dad, which was sort of a respectful surprise in retrospect.
But it did teach me that she wouldn’t freak out. That if there was something I needed to come to her about then I could.
How well we do at listening is a daily question but trying is better than not trying.
Sleep with someone new!
My “relationship” went from love to loss in 30 days and now, 30 days after the breakup, I find myself having amazing, love-less sex with someone new. Someone who is just invested in my pleasure and in some ways even more intuitive about my body. And boy does it feel great.
In fact, this really strange thing happened and I’m curious if anyone out there has had this experience.
It kinda gave me synesthesia. The things we did together felt like different colors. And when he would hold or touch me a different way the color would change. There was nothing I could do about it, I couldn’t change the color at will and I couldn’t even specifically tell you what prompted the change but it has never happened before and it was great.
On to bigger and better things.
Recently I’ve heard two great food metaphors, one for love and one for kink.
A few weeks ago I toured the Kink.com factory and our tour guide said of the preference for pain
“It’s like spicy food. You can watch someone eat spicy food and shake and cry and wonder why they’re doing this to themselves. But they do it again and again and tell you they love it. Other people, of course, hate it. People are just different.”
Last night I was talking to a friend and she said that saying I love you does change things between the people saying it. She said
“It’s like the difference between chicken broth you bought at the store and chicken broth your mom made. Both are good. If you’re making rice then the store bought stuff is better than water. But there’s nothing like the stuff your mom makes when you need it.”
That is all.