Sex, Love, and Stuff.

Lately I’ve been thinking a lot about sexuality and love.

There was a time when I viewed most males through the lens of my sexuality – more specifically, in terms of how to use my own sexuality to connect with them. Most men fell into one of three categories: those I could innocently flirt with who would flirt back, those who I wouldn’t flirt with for whatever reason, and those who I would inevitably end up fucking. Any male who fell outside all three categories was generally under the age of consent.

There is a huge power trip associated with asserting your sexuality, for me, anyway. As long as I was wanted, I was happy. I thrived on the attention of men. When I was in my late teens and early twenties, really basking in the twilight of my adolescent beauty, I felt confident that I could have any man I wanted. I tested the theory a few times – once with a man I worked with who was 20 years older than me with five kids, another time with a guy I felt was unapproachable in high school, one summer with a perfect stranger I met in a bar – and my offer was accepted each time. This is obviously duh territory because, well, duh – it’s not as if I was propositioning Adonis, you know? But I remained convinced of my prowess. I was young, gainfully employed, attractive, and it seemed the world of men lay at my feet.

I primped and powdered and tanned daily, highlighted and manicured monthly. My toenails were never unpainted and if there was even a chance of someone attractive ending up in the same place as me, there was a full body shave in the shower beforehand.

I had perfume for my body, perfume for my hair, I scoured women’s and men’s mags for hints and tips on how to give the best blowjob ever and I am fairly sure I have achieved just that on numerous occasions, at least for the recipient in question. I lived for the thrill of the first brush of his hand on mine, the first slip of tongue, the first unzipping of jeans or hiking up of skirt, for the near palpable excitement surrounding the first fuck.

Even after I was married the first time, I never really stopped. This time I had what I viewed as a real reason to not take things any further and in a way, that made it all the sweeter. I flirted my ass off at work, with my ex’s friends, their girlfriends. I was intoxicated with being grown up and living in NYC – I was broke as hell, living on cereal and peanut butter some weeks, but I still knew how to work it. Two friends fell in love with me, though I never meant for that to happen, but I will admit it both thrilled and scared the shit out of me.

And then.

I met Colin.

The need to subtly dominate every penis I came across disappeared virtually overnight. My every thought was of him, how to make him happy, how to work this long-distance thing out, how to get here or get him there, how to make another marriage work when I’d failed so miserably at the last, how to make this last a lifetime. I was too busy scheming and saving and planning and being madly in love to give too much though to who thought my ass looked hot in the dress I was wearing. I went weeks without shaving. I started smoking weed. I masturbated furiously.

It was a weird time.

The years have passed and I’m not even sure what’s left of that fiery and all consuming need to entice I once possessed. There is something about the security in a long-term relationship, about sleeping every night in the same bed as the man who has fathered my child, that lulls me into a kind of passive sexuality. I can barely remember the thrill of the chase any more, that need to push and push at someone’s boundaries until they give in, the primal triumph at the moment I know it’s in the bag. I look back on it with a mixture of slight disgust and misty remembrance – much like the way I recall my first love.

Which brings me to the love part.

I have this friend. We have a ton in common, we get along really well, we talk often. I respect this person a great deal, and really value their friendship. I have deep affection for them and am happy to have someone so inspiring in my life.

I have a few other friends like this. When we talk or email, we almost always sign off with “Love you!” I am a naturally affectionate person, and so are they. I like that we’re able to be so open with each other. It actually means the world to me that I have friends who love me enough to tell me so, plainly and without embarrassment.

My friend up above? He is of the male persuasion, as you may have guessed. And I’m stumped. There really should be no reason why I’m not able to be as open with him as I am with my girlfriends, other than the obvious fact that he has different equipment. I have a huge heart. I love an awful lot of people to varying degrees. It’s not that I don’t take love seriously; it’s just that I believe love branches out in so many directions with so many different levels and meanings. It annoys me that I have been conditioned to think that I can’t love a friend with a penis in more or less the same way as my friend with a vagina. There have been a couple of times where I’ve very nearly written, “Love you!” at the end of an email or thrown it in at the end of a conversation, but I always stop myself, simply because of the dick factor. I don’t know, it just seems silly to me. To think loving a male friend means I want to have his babies is ridiculous. Love is love is love. If I can love my girlfriends for the joy they bring to my life, I can love this friend for the same thing, and it’s no betrayal of anything. It is what it is.

And that’s about all I’ve got to say about that.

ETA: I'm not trying to wax poetic about how messed up I used to be. I fully realize that seeking approval in every man I met was not healthy, and I would never want to be that person again. While I felt supremely alive every time I scored, I also almost always ended up desperate and depressed once the initial excitement passed. I'm in a much better place now, able to see the worth I inherently possess, worth that has nothing whatsoever to do with my ability to please a man.

I laughed so hard, there were tears.

Ahahahahahahahahaha. Can't stop laughing. Wilford Brimley cat for the win!


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Y'all, I must be delirious or something. This set off a chain reaction of hilarity that did not end for like, ten minutes. I was trying to type up an email to send to Colin about it but needed to find an actual picture of Wilford first, and it took me five minutes to even find one because I was laughing so hard I couldn't see through the tears. My stomach hurts from laughing and it's not even that funny! Except it is.

Ah, hometown pride.

Ranked the 8th most dangerous city in the US.

My subconcious mind freaks me out.

Dream 1:

I am a time-traveler. Somehow, I have traveled back in time to the present from the future. People are chasing me because apparently in the present, I have royally fucked something up and these folks are out for blood. No, really. They want to hang me when they catch me. Naturally, I am FREAKING OUT. I end up at my grandparent's house, in my grandma's room, hiding under her bed. My heart is beating so hard it feels like it's going to fly out of my chest. I sense that the people chasing me are nearby so I warp on over to my mom's house in Florida, a'la Heroes Hiro (haha.)

My ex Felix is waiting there with a plane ticket for both Davey and I. After what seems like an extremely short flight, we arrive in NYC and hail a taxi. Davey and I only have the clothes on our back, no bags, no money, nothing. While I feel incredibly grateful to Felix for saving us, I am also hesitant about now being in his service, as it were. The back of the front seat in the cab is fully mirrored for some reason, and I keep catching glimpses of us in it. Felix keeps talking about being in love with me, and he grabs me and pulls me near him, and tells me to look in the mirror, that we're meant to be. He then tries to kiss me, but I am so not going there, and it gets progressively more awkward for me.

We get to his apartment and I keep thinking if I can just call Aaron, he'll come get us and we'll be OK. I ring him up and Felix gets really upset and starts shouting at me. I keep trying to explain that Aaron and I are just really good friends, but he won't calm down.

We're at a sort of penthouse upstate. I don't know where Davey is, but Aaron, me, another guy, and a woman who appears to be Aaron's wife are all sitting in a hot tub with champagne. There is someone there with a camera crew, interviewing us. I have on a ton of make-up. Apparently, Aaron's wife and I are working on a big project together and that's why we're being interviewed. We're both talking each other up, and then the interviewer tells me I'm pretty and I smile really widely.

Colin comes walking past the hot tub in the ugliest sweater I've ever seen, talking to Sajid on his mobile. He's complaining about some movie about cricket he's watched that was really bad, and then launches into some argument about Westquarter not stealing Hamad from another team. Once he's off the phone, he gets really annoyed with me, and once again, I am left trying to explain that Aaron is just one of my best friends, nothing more.

Dream 2:

I'm back at my high school and it's the homecoming game and dance. I keep looking through a sheaf of photographs in my hand - there are many pictures of Cristy, some from when we were kids, and others from the months before she died. I go down to the football field with Christa, and I actually see Cristy in the distance. Her hair is cut to just under her chin, but it's definitely her. I had felt so sad only a moment ago when looking through her pictures, and it's a shock to see her there in front of me. I keep trying to work my way down through the bleachers to get to her, but can't get through all the crowds.

There is a group of us looking for a killer. I'm running through the woods near the school and Ian McKellen is there as Dumbledore. He is running beside me, but keeps changing himself into various things - at one point, he turns himself into a chain of daisies that form an arrow to show me where to keep going. I go from there to walking with a man through the stairwell in the school. He does that creepy good-guy-is-actually-the-killer thing where he starts being all weird and threatening as soon as we're away from everyone. I realize it's been him all along and take off running, screaming as loud as I can that he's the one, and for someone to come help me. We get all the way to the basement level, and there are tons of mirrors everywhere. There is a big fight, and there is suddenly a young girl there who falls down injured. I shatter a mirror over the man's shoulder, and a piece of glass lodges itself in his neck. Suddenly, Dumbledore McKellen shows up with a group of people. They have a small cauldron between them with a bubbling liquid, which they tell me to pour over the injured girl. I do, and her wounds instantly heal. I also pour some over the neck of the killer and he heals as well. Hes taken into custody and it's then I realize I'm Harry Potter (that makes me laugh just typing it!) and the young girl is Hermione. We head upstairs with our arms around each other, wondering how to tell the others waiting for us that we're in love.

We get outside the school and the people we were afraid of telling have actually fallen in love with each other, so everyone is happy. There's a huge bus waiting for everyone, and it's really cold out.

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Then I woke up.

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W.T.F.

I got to talk to one of my favorite people on the phone tonight. I have a thing with talking to people on the phone - I guess I always think I am wittier and more charming online than I could ever be in real life and so when I know I'm about to talk to someone for the first time on the phone, subconciously, I'm all, "ZOMG! What if they hate me? What if I'm boring? What if I don't shut up (far more likely)? What if I'm not funny and just a giant mass of dorkitude?!"

This particular first phone call was compounded by other factors, as well, so I seriously thought I was going to puke while I was waiting for the phone to ring. I actually downed two shots of Malibu with seltzer water at like, 3 p.m. 3!! I guess it worked a little because there didn't seem to be any awkwardness.

Anyway, this person was just as crazy cool over the phone as they are online, and we had a splendid conversation. I was left feeling deliciously happy and it kind of made my whole day. :)

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I'm off this weekend! It will be my first weekend off since we had our vacation in early April. Ugh. Just typing that made me feel stabby. I was in the best mood tonight, knowing I didn't have to be back til Tuesday and that I will actually HAVE A LIFE this weekend! We're having a little family party tomorrow night for the Scotland v Italy game. It's kind of amazing we've gotten this far and no one is really expecting us to win, so it's a great atmosphere all over the country right now, since people are just celebrating us being right where we are. There will be drink and food and probably lots of loud singing and general asshat-ery but all in good fun.

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Davey got the letter with the appointment date for his visit with the audiologist. It's next Saturday, which seems weird. I'm half tempted to cancel it since I really don't think there's anything wrong with his hearing but I guess we ought to keep it just to make sure.

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Apologies for my blog being so supremely bloggy lately. I have a million deep thoughts swirling around but just haven't found time to sit down and form them into something coherent and meaningful. I will soon, I promise.

So tired.

I have been having the craziest dreams lately. Last night's sampler:

- a good friend's infant died. I found out a week later and told Colin when we were in bed, crying hysterically. My friend seemed to be taking it well, but I was heartbroken for her.

- I was with a group of people when we came in to find a roomful of dead bodies, which meant we had to go on the run. This was a really long, detailed dream, but I can't remember much of it, only that we were stuck on a drawbridge and had to jump it, and I was afraid of falling all that way in to the water. We were also stuck in small room somewhere, hiding out.

I know there were a couple more that are escaping me at the moment. I had the start of a migraine before I went to sleep, and it got progressively worse, to the point of waking me up a few times. It finally got so bad that I got up around 4:30 a.m. and came downstairs to take some ibuprofen. I didn't think I'd be able to fall back to sleep, but thankfully the pill worked quickly and I was able to get another couple of hours of sleep before getting up to walk the dogs.

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Davey started nursery yesterday. He goes Tues and Thurs from 1-6 p.m. I've changed my work hours around - instead of working 24 hours doing a half shift on Friday night and two full shifts over Saturday and Sunday, I'll now be doing 3-11 p.m. on Tues and Thursday, then my Friday night shift will be flexible. I'll still be doing at least one shift over the weekend, but it won't be all weekend, every weekend any more, thank heavens. I've been doing that for two and a half years now, and I was just burned out on it. We never get any time together as a family, and I basically told them I either needed to change my hours or I'd have to look for something else. I like my job and the people I work with, so I'm glad they could be accommodating.

Davey seemed to really enjoy himself. I figured he would. He's been needing that social interaction for a while now, and I think we both needed to get out of each other's hair for a while. I'll be taking him in and Colin will be picking him up, and of course, Colin's mom is the manager there, so it makes me feel even better that she's always near by. We've started him off in the toddler room downstairs since he's still so non-verbal and in diapers. They may look at moving him upstairs with the bigger kids after the New Year, but I don't mind him staying downstairs for as long as they're happy with him being there. I think it's been a gentler introduction than it would have been had he gone straight upstairs.

I'm hoping this will help him become more verbal, too. It's been getting really frustrating for all of us with him being unintelligible 50% of the time. I'm supposed to be getting a referral to an audiologist but it hasn't come through yet. We'll just wait and see how it goes with him being around other kids - I'm keeping my fingers crossed that it'll move that last stumbling block out of the way for him.

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We started looking into information on visas and green cards last night. Looks like we're set on trying to move back home by the end of next year - I'm glad. There are many things I love here, but I miss my family. I also just miss how at home I always feel in Memphis. I always feel slightly like a fish out of water when I'm living anywhere that's not there.

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I think that's as much of an update as I can manage before 8 in the morning! I need to go iron a shirt for Colin and then I may go back to bed with Davey for a while. My head is still fuzzy and sore.