Dating

My Little Love Slut Self

I have a story that I’m easy to cancel on. Easy to forget. Easy to pass over. That you “always” cancel on me. That the excuses are real but somehow the manifestation is born of not caring about me.

This, of course, is ridiculous.

Well, only as ridiculous as a feeling can be. It isn’t fact. It isn’t even reasonable. Especially considering how awesome I am.

It isn’t fact. I get to work on remembering that in the moment.

And I get to be gentle with myself when I forget. Because scared, hurt me is important and deserving of love too.

Love

Love, Loss and February

I can feel the summer fading from my lips, my throat, the backs of my knuckles, the soil. Sucking the moisture out of everything.

Amaryllis cracks and coagulates crimson. Withers ‘gainst the twine.

It will bloom again, stronger than before.

But first it gets to droop, droop, drop.

We get to mourn the loss for a while.

And then we stop.

Friendship, Sex

Happy Fashion Week To Both Of Us

How is it so different and so the same? A few years gone by since last we touched, last I decided to trust you. The answer is obvious. Me. I’m different. Transformed, transfigured.

You much the same. Trading on mystery. Charm. I feel more heard in your arms than I have. But I always remembered that about you, sought it in others, came up disappointed. The only way to have a partner. A leo happy to fall in line and follow me. Ears always perked for the hair on my back to indicate danger.

The quickest way to earn my trust; pause, check in, kick my ass. Your hands, your accent, your hair. I’m a honey lazy river for your growl.

You think about me.

I know because you tell me.

Call it stroking my ego.

But you’re actually dancing with me in cloud space. Foreplay 3,000 miles away.

Each of us painting on different sides of the same vellum. Two artists sharing the same work, folding down the page to cover what has been drawn before,

At the bottom of my lines you should draw feet.

Who is to call it dangerous if it’s supportive and oh so healing. Grounding and revelatory. Intimacy rediscovered, reimagined.

Confidence

I Can Do Anything

I have a story that I don’t drive.

But you know what,

Driving isn’t like doing a back hand spring or hearing ghosts. It’s not a thing I’m (currently!) incapable of. It’s a choice to do a scary thing and then not quit until it’s complete.

And I’m great at committing to things until they no longer serve me. I’ve proven that.

So this weekend I drove.

I rented a car.

I put my name and my name alone down for the insurance, ensuring that I’d be the only person on the trip who drove.

I drove at night.

I drove on highways and on windy country roads.

I drove with my brights on!

I drove past deer!

I drove in thick white fog.

And you know what, when I got scared I just slowed down and kept going.

I brought myself down to a speed where I could feel comfortable keeping on keeping on.

I got lost.

I got found.

I got me and my loves home safe and sound.

So that’s part 1. Part 2 is that contributing this very specific gift to the weekend meant that it felt easy to not contribute other things. To know that I was doing enough, giving enough, and could choose to take care of myself instead of wearing myself thin. To take a nap before a long late drive even though everyone else was cleaning.

I’m grateful that I had the guts to get a license, to rent a car, to do all the little steps I had been telling myself I couldn’t do.

Because, why?

I can do anything.

Just as long as I don’t tell myself I can’t.

Friendship, Relationships

Here To Hear Me

Forever ago I saw a thing that rings through my head only all the time.

Strong people don’t have needs.

And other lies that can kill you.

I think about this all the time. Really any time I have a need this pops into my head. Usually after a complete shit-storm of self judgement.

Why do you have so many needs? Why can’t you be easy?

No one is going to love you if you’re this high maintenance.

It reverberates through every request I make of a coworker, lover, or friend.

Why do you think having needs is such a bad thing?

Needs are bad! They are like sugar building cavities every minute. They spoil you!

Stop being a martyr. You’re a human. Humans need things.

I want to be better!

Than what? The best you is still human. And the humans you love the most are the ones who allow you to support them when they’re in need.

Pulling the requests from my mouth hurts more than pulling teeth. But unlike dental work more practice improves the experience. Which is good. The more I call out what I want the more it comes to me. So I better get some practice at asking for what I want.

Surround yourself with people who are here to hear your requests. And let go of the ones who try to convince you that your needs are a burden. They are not here to see you grow and fly.

Here to hear you is a good place to start.

Dating

Why Do I Like You?

Why do I want to be with you?

Because I want to see all the things that happen when you’re around.

Life is more interesting when you’re by my side.

Here’s the thing though…

That’s not actually true.

That’s how I feel about me.

It’s how you should feel about me too.

I’m the context for change, excitement, growth, and fun.

So why do I like you?

Do I?

Bodies, Self-Care, Sex

Bragging On A Dare

I had a divine, beautiful evening tonight.

Today someone requested a “clit pic” from me. I’ve never heard of such a thing and was immediately reactive;

Gross

How would I even?

That wouldn’t be fun

My camera sucks

So reactive that I decided-who cares whether I send it to anyone-I get to assign this challenge to myself.

So when I got home I sipped a little bubbly kombucha, lit a few candles, put on a playlist, and I had a photoshoot with myself.

And it was super fun! And I even liked a few of the pictures I took! I was shocked!

Then I decided to up the ante. I reached out to a few other goddesses I know and told them about my night.

Oh, yeah, we send those to each other all the time! Here are a few of our favorites!

I’m in awe. I brag that I dive into things that make me uncomfortable.

I brag that I surround myself with people who impress and push me every day.

I brag that I’m sexy and I know it.

Bodies, Feelings, Intimacy

Sometimes It’s Just So So Good

I met a man and had a touch that exists without frame, without reference points, without time before or time after.

The day I arrived I saw him and couldn’t stop noticing him. The way he walked and smiled, hugged people, smiled. Those teeth like perfect pearls, making me smile for absolutely no reason. Like a painting that tickles you every time you see it. Why? Who knows. But I’d rather have the feeling even if I can’t explain it than not have it at all.

It became apparent that he had been seeing me the way I was seeing him. Wanting to speak, wanting to touch, Wanting to uncover the mystery; why can’t I stop noticing you?

Walking alone under an open and unjudgemental sky I told him,

I want to touch you with curiosity. Just run my hands on your skin without shame or fear and see what I find.

That sounds amazing. I’d love to connect with you that way.

After years of thinking the same thought in relationships and situations where it’d not come true my brain was flooded with anticipation. What would it be like to get what I’ve always thought I wanted. Really though.

I tossed and turned imagining luxuriating in the temperature of his chest, grazing my fingertips along his lips, those lips that smile like he’s about to tell me a secret. By the time the time came I was high on my fantasies, vibrating, embarrassed to have passed a whole day with this elevated awareness of self, of color, texture, grinning stupidly about someone I don’t even know.

Reality was different of course. Curiosity means listening, responding not to what you had imagined but to what actually presents itself. What I found more intoxicating than the skin I’d wanted to caress was the muscle beneath it and the intention it held. Like a lionness stalking her prey, he put his hands on my arms and moved me through space, enjoying the way we walked like waltzers, hands full of information, structure, satisfaction.

Enjoying each others willingness to lead and be led, see and be seen.

Before I learned about the mechanics of sex this is what I thought it would feel like in my chest, the tightness and release in my throat, the tingling all over and inside my head, the freedom. He ran his hands down the sides of my torso like a builder looking for warp to address, stopping to notice muscles, ran his hand to the space just below my belly button and collapsed his weight into me, enjoying the roundness and warmth of the intimate no man’s land right above my underwear band. Not sexual, just private, pleasurable in it’s own rarely-noticed right.

Tell me some thinking or feeling words.

This is such a wonderful destination. Just itself.

He held my arms out to my sides floating in space,

Keep them there.

And I did, in the chilly night air, luxuriating in his palms scampering from fingertip, across the soft insides of my elbow, glancing off the lump of my shoulder, skateboarding across my collar bones, and out the other side and back again, breathing and watching his face gleam with joy at my skin.

Not long after that I put my shirt back on and we rejoined the world.

Heading back towards other people with all their eyeballs and opinions I remembered who I was, who he was. This was not the new couple, triumphant, announcing themselves, inviting the tribe to rejoice at their starting a journey as a pair. Just two people who shared a moment in the woods returning, ever so slightly changed, to their own lives. The idea of having to back away before being noticed, to not be seen as some romantic leech clanged around inside my chest.

I’m important to this person! I swear it, you should have seen how he worshiped the shape of my neck just a moment ago!

The knot rising in my throat at the inevitable “she’s not with me” implicit in the return to society. This person is allowed to be important to me, but not in a way I can ever adequately describe, and that makes it feel un-respectable.

The shame trapped me under it like a waterfall, the flow locking me in. Then I got what I’ve always wanted. In a room full of people, an unselfconscious arm around me.

Thank you for not making me feel like something to be ashamed of.

You aren’t something to be ashamed of.

frances-hodgson-burnett

Feelings, Love, Relationships

Marriage, Why?

I’m a woman in America over 25 which means that everyone keeps telling me how much I want to get married. How important it is to land the man, pick the dress, calligraphy my bridesmaids gifts. I do have horrible handwriting and love fancy calligraphy but;

How would I know if I wanted to get married? What does it mean?

Does it mean a wedding? A dress? Health insurance? To be square with your deity of choice? An opportunity to tell your whole world that this person is the bees knees? Financial stability? A guarantee that your partner will always love you? Sexual exclusivity until you die? Chosen family? Children? Someone to take care of you when your life is hard? Help in times of sickness? A commitment to supporting your choices, dreams, desires as you discover them? Waking up and having breakfast together? Doing the thing all your friends are doing? Fidelity?

Which of these are guaranteed because you’ve signed a contract with each other and the state? Which are important to you?

Weddings hold little fascination for me. I’ve never been much for throwing parties and I hate decorating. I like attending them but coming up with a color scheme for an event is my literal nightmare. Plus, isn’t it a bummer to decide that you can only have one favorite-ever dress? And that it has to be white and that you have to wear it only once? How about instead of deciding that there’s one MY DAY where I look better than I ever have or will, that I’m my most beautiful every day. That every dress I spend my hard earned money on should be a dress that I want to be seen and loved in. Instead of creating a false scarcity on my beauty there can be an infinite supply. Cause my beauty is infinite and celestial, lets be real.

Health insurance, yeah that’s a thing to consider. Thanks America.

An opportunity to tell your whole world that this person is important to you. This is the one that gets me. I want this. For various reasons bragging my love hasn’t felt very safe in my life. So I have a story in my head that this would be very healing. But wedding days are crazy and from what I understand the dominant feelings people actually experience are hunger and foot pain. I’d like to work on feeling safe shouting my crushy feelings from rooftops before I go around making expensive legal decisions.

Religious considerations. Probably a concern for some but not particularly me. “Hell” concerns me less than my rent. Though if I were to have some sort of ceremonial/party experience of showing off my partner I wouldn’t mind if a rabbi came by to say something that no one would understand and kiss me on the forehead.

Financial stability. Is this actually linked to marriage? Does getting married guarantee that you’ll never be destitute? If there’s a person committed to supporting you, then wouldn’t they want to help you financially if you needed it? But they aren’t required to, is that a big risk? If you’re in financial trouble and married will that partner automatically be the best person to help you? Will they be guaranteed not to resent you because of your rings? Not everyone can marry someone who earns more than they do, marriage is two different people, not a mobius strip.

Relatedly who do I tell if I kill someone and need help burying the body? It would be nice to have someone who is allowed to not testify against me. Am I the only one who finds that sort of romantic?

A guarantee that your partner will always love you. I’m not gonna link to divorce statistics. That feels rude.

Sexual exclusivity until you die. Do you really even want that? Do I? I’ve never wanted to be sexually exclusive to anyone honestly. My mother always told me “I had a long and fun single life before I met your father.” I think I’m pretty good at having my cake and eating it too. And lots of people are exclusive without marriage and lots of marriages don’t include sexual exclusivity. So we can unlink those two pretty easily.

Making a family, whether that means the two of you, or the two of you plus a few. The chosen family that you make as an adult and don’t marry are important still, right? The roommates you split life duties with, the friends you have standing dates with. The people you trust enough to travel with. Are they less your chosen family for not being contracted as such?

And babies, we all know you don’t need a marriage license to make one of those.

Help and support in times of struggle, sickness, and plain old soul searching. What is commitment and how do you feel like you have it? When I have any clue at all I’ll be sure to share it. Anyone can choose to give you those things. Hopefully a person who loves you can choose to keep wanting to give those things over a lifetime. But how do you receive that? How do you feel secure in this person to support you? In this essay lifetime I will show…

Mornings. I love breakfast. I love morning sex. I love cuddling to the sunrise. This one is hard for me. I think of the morning as my most productive time of day. From about 9am-noon I feel like my brain is full of potential and creativity. If I’m freaking out about something, it’ll be here, now, wanting to be addressed. If I’m feeling frisky, wanting to be sweet on someone then that’ll show up too. But lots of people who are married don’t live together. And obviously you can live together, or have sleepovers with people you’re not married to. Show of hands?

Fitting in. It has pros and cons. To each their own.

Fidelity – noun; faithfulness to a person, cause, or belief, demonstrated by continuing loyalty and support. What is the venn diagram between fidelity and marriage? Obviously this can exist within a marriage but regardless of what any magazine says, no white dress can guarantee it. And if you want fidelity in any partnership then how do you communicate that, model it, ask for it? By saying this?

I love you so much. So much that you can’t scare me. So much that I want all the ugly parts of you. So much that I want to know the completeness of you. So much that I want to see all the boring, sad, angry, and shameful parts of you. I want to hold them all carefully and look at them with you. I want to see you and watch how you change. I want to share in your times of joy and I want to support you when you are working through the issues in your life.

Doesn’t sound like a totally raw deal to me…

Feelings, Intimacy

You’re So Sweet To Me

My mom used to say “I just want you to find someone to love.”

My partner tells me “You are so sweet to me. You are being so sweet to me.”

It turns out that I enjoy being gushy. I enjoy being a completely goofy romantic. There are so many fun sweet things to say and do and make.

With no fear that I’m going to be laughed at. With no fear that I’m going to be misunderstood.

I want to give that ooey gooey melty center to someone who knows what it means, what it costs, what the associated fears are.

I love getting to be that drippy heart, it’s such a treat to get to show it on my sleeve. It takes a lot of practice to feel comfortable being that person in front of someone, even when it’s so graciously and appreciatively received. It is shockingly hard to push that edge for myself. But I can feel it already being so worth it.