Sexuality Happens

This is another one of those posts that’s been in the works for a while. I am sorry to interrupt your regularly scheduled report from Thunder, but I was thinking about this lately.

I never used to be a big PDA person. A bit of an exhibitionist yes, but I saw no need to really kiss or make out in public. Meh, whatever.

And then there was Philly. Parts of Philly (West Philly and South Philly) are very open and queer friendly. And parts of Philly (North, Northeast, and many of the ‘burbs) are not. When J and I were together, I always felt nervous when we were out and about, and showed affection, because I was terrified of being harassed, of being targeted by homophobes and transphobes, for a humongous variety of reasons. To combat this fear (and to make people realize that “we’re here, we’re queer, and deal with it”), I began to get more into the PDA. We’d hold hands everywhere, I was all about the kissing, and arms around the waist…and if we wound up making out by the river or in an elevator, so be it. However, when people would give us looks, or say something, my heart would seize up in my chest. I was waiting for the day when someone would refuse us service, start a fight, or pull out a gun. Luckily it never happened, but that didn’t make me any less nervous.

Then I moved to Colorado. While it is not necessarily more liberal than Philly, it is certainly more of an open, “live and let live” environment. Sasha and I were out the other day, and were walking to my car from a rockabilly bar (the second to last stop of the evening). We decided to hold hands, because it felt nice, and because I’ve got skin hunger like nobody’s business. We walked past straight clubs, a gay male club, an “urban” (hip-hop centric) club, etc. No one bothered us, no one cat called, no one said anything, or looked at us funny, or did anything that made me uncomfortable. We just were. We were two people, who looked to be in a relationship (or just going home to fuck…neither of which was the case), holding hands, and walking down one of the busier streets in the city. Even Sasha commented on it, how nice it was to just be out, be comfortable, and not having to defend or explain our sexualities the entire time.

This was reiterated with L while we were mini-golfing (before the “here, let me break myself to lure you into the hospital” schtick). We held hands in line, while we were waiting at each hole, occasionally putting our arms around each others waists, leaning out heads on each others shoulders. When we first kissed (and a few subsequent ones), there were people around. We were obviously on a date, obviously queer, and obviously ok touching. And no one said a word, no on tsk tsked, in fact, the couple in front of us smiled, and the two guys behind us were kind enough to give me an extra ball, and then let us trade them, so we didn’t have two blue balls. Later on, once I had fucked my ankle up, and L was helping me hop to the exit, I had taken a break. I was sitting on the grass, L holding my hand…and the soccer mom came over to help us out. No “oh, so YOU’RE together?” drama, no lecture, not even an odd look. She just looked at the situation; a girl in pain, another helping her to the exit, and offered her help. Just like that.

I’m really beginning to appreciate it. While I am having to explain my queer identity (rather than lesbian) much more often, I feel less judged by the dyke community as a whole, and by the entire city. People are ok — I haven’t heard any hate language, I haven’t had guys make any lewd suggestions, it’s just been really chill.

I never realized what a big deal it would be for me to hold hands, with someone of the same sex, out in public, and not have that inner fear. It’s so freeing, and uplifting, and just really makes me happy. With male partners in HS and college, I always took it for granted, PDA…but once I started having non-bio guy partners, I realized how actually dangerous it can be for some people to show affection in public. But here (and I’m sure there may be areas where it’s not ok…but so far, so good), it just feels fine. I feel like people are just like ‘yeah, whatever, people holding hands’ instead of “oh, two women holding hands. they must be lesbians. I wonder if they’re sleeping together, and I wonder if they’d sleep with me.” or “fucking gay people, always rubbing it in our faces.” It’s just really nice.

So I plan to hold hands, a lot. With all my friends (and future partners), regardless of their sex or gender. Because it feels good, satisfies my skin hunger, and it doesn’t make me nervous or fearful.

In your city/area/community/neighborhood/campus, how is the climate in regards to this?

-Essin’ Em

I just had a really good dream.

Well, the first dream of the night sucked. My partner was shoot by an ex-friend in the grocery store. I don’t know if that had to do with writing this post about being afraid when I held hands with J in Philly, but it was weird, and sad.

But the second dream? Mmmmm. There is the hot, intelligent, awesome trans guy from grad school…who blogs (I’m not sure I’m allowed to link, so I won’t), and is enjoying his first summer post up, and is just really awesome. And hot.

And I was apparently in NYC. And apparently tied him to a bed frame (with saran wrap), and we made out, and had really hot sex.

It was much more detailed, and hotter than that, but mmmm.

Also, then his apartment had a fire, so his insurance company put us both up at a hotel for a while..and we *had* to share a bed. How tragic. More sex ensued.

Yet, last night, I couldn’t even get off. I think my body is still evening out from having stopped using teh drugs.

That’s all,

-Essin’ Em

So this is what my poor ankle/foot looks like about 7 or 8 days post “extreme mini-golf accident.” I can never decide whether to be forthright, and just tell people I hurt it in a mini golf accident when they ask, or tell them I got mauled by a bear (hey, it could happen!) I’m about 75% mini-golf, 25% bear.

Let me give you a “poor Essin’ Em’s ankle timeline” (keeping in mind the above picture is the most recent).

Here is it in the ER:

The angle makes it look not that swollen (and this is after literally hours of ice, and a few drugs), but I promise, it is. In fact, it was about 3 times the size of the other ankle within 10 minutes of hurting it.

L was kind enough to take this picture while I was drugged up and overly dramatic:

I was trying to suck it up, and still be a slightly fun date. Alternate this with bouts of tears and “fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck,” punctuate with Marvin Gaye planning on her iPhone, and slip my right hand into her left, and you’ve got a pretty good idea about a good majority of the evening.

And here it is a few days after the incident. I’ve never had a sprained ankle that was so bruised….right now, my entire shin is bruised too!

Clearly, it is still very swollen, although I’m icing it all the bloody time, and taking anti-inflammatory drugs. I’m down to taking one percocet a day…I cut myself off cold turkey on Tuesday, because I was so emotional on them, but then I was so cranky because of the pain, I couldn’t function at work, so I’m just taking 1 in the morning to function in the office, when I can’t ice it and elevate it all day.

I’m seeing a doctor on Monday (one for my ankle, one for my knees. I’m just hoping I don’t fuck up my knees more with this…last summer, I stress fractured my left foot because I was favoring it due to pain in my right knee). I’ve never really followed up with a doctor for a sprain, but all the bruising is kind of worrying me, as it is continuing to get worse, more than a week after the incident. Also, my knee PT said they can do some ankle rehab too, which is good, so I need a script for that. I can bend it forward and back ok with little stiffness and moderate pain, but it just really isn’t going side to side, at all.

I also need to get a picture of my AWESOME crutches. There are zebra print towels for the under arms, polka dot ribbon encircling the shafts, and the handles have bright red vet tape on them. They are hot. I’d pick up me if I wasn’t me :)

Hope you enjoyed my death by mini golf photo blog!

-Essin’ Em

This past weekend, I spent Friday evening, and all day Saturday and Sunday at Thunder in the Mountains, one of the larger BDSM conferences/conventions in the US.

It. Was. Freaking. Awesome.

Sasha Sappho was also lucky enough to attend, which was super lucky for me, since I was on crutches all weekend, and she was so kind, and carried my bag(s) around for me, helped me out, drove my car there, etc.

This is what I looked like, but with crutches:

When we got there, we checked in, and then headed over to the vendor area. OH. MY. GOD. It was phenomenal…anything kink oriented you could ever want (plus more) was available. Worse yet, they took credit cards.

We wandering around a bit, and ended up buying a beautiful nylon handled moose flogger, a box of sexy black nitrile gloves, a new wartenburg wheel (don’t know what happened to my last), my very own of that horrible annoying and painful slapper than K hit me with, and a blue synthetic cane to match my broom like thing. As I said, it was dangerous!

Because of my being on crutches, it made for an interesting dynamic with Sasha. She drove my car to the event, dropped my off at the door, carried my bags for me, got me water when I sat down, etc. In an ordinary situation, people would just think she was being nice to a poor gimp (PS, my co-workers have started calling me G-Squared, for Gimp Squared). However, in this situation, everyone made the assumption that she was my sub, and this was part of her service. Because Sasha is quite submissive, and didn’t mind (we talked it over first), we didn’t correct anyone.

I was really surprised at the amount of queer people there. I mean, at a BDSM event, I would expect (based on previous experience) to find many hetero couples, a decent number of bi women, a few transwomen, and a plethora of gay leather men. However, Thunder posted a fairly good number of queer…and that included lesbians, dykes, gender benders, bois, grrls, femmes, butches, and much more. Moreover, all the classes I took made a concerted effort to be very trans inclusive…talking about the gender spectrum, pointing out that not everyone with a cunt is a woman, etc. I was really impressed, and felt very welcome. I met a lovely boi at the Hysteria booth, and we talked both about the queer and queer kink scenes in Denver, and also about me possibly teaching classes. This was one of the first kink events I’ve been to (that wasn’t specifically queer) where I didn’t have a large number of men coming up to me, either to offer themselves to me, or to ask me to be their little girl. It was really bloody nice.

We met a really nice couple. She’s a co-owner of Self Serve Toys, which is a queer friendly, kink knowledgeable, sex-positive toy store and resource center in NM. My friend had actually told me about it last year, but I found it on my own at Thunder, and it wasn’t until the last night when I made the “ooooh, you’re THAT New Mexico sex toy store!” connection. Anyways, she’s awesome, and a bossom buddy (in every sense of the word), and her trans boyfriend is also really nice and super hot. Sasha and I had a blast talking with them (and oogling them a bit) for the rest of the weekend, and i hope to make it down there to visit, and perhaps teach a class or two for them.

Anyways, finally, after a long set of introductions at the “meet and greet,” and sharing artichoke dip and chocolate cake (to get energy!), it was time for the Friday night play party. I hobbled down the ridiculously long hall to the play space. Holy crap, they had it SET UP. It was essentially a convention center ballroom, tricked out with everything you can imagine. Dozens of St. Andrews crosses, all types of scaffolding with hanging cages, hanging crosses, pulleys, etc, a giant playground style dome for suspensions, tables, medical tables, free standing cages, benches, poles, slings, work horses, wrestling mats, etc. If you can imagine it, they had it. Plus, there was also a ‘women only” space and a “men only space,” which was really nice. At the DM station, they had everything; tons of different disinfectants and wipes, alcohol pads, paper towels, sharps containers, vinyl/nitrile/latex gloves in different sizes, hershey’s kisses, mints, condoms and tons of water stations. Everything you just might happen to possibly need.

Sasha and I walked around the dungeon, watching the various scenes. She’s never been to a kink specific space, so it was really interesting for her. We made a few rounds, sat down to watch a few scenes, and finally, decide to play (something we had negotiated before).

She’d bought a new pair of restraints, and was enjoying wearing them, so I helped her out of her bustier, and hooked her up to a St. Andrews cross in naught but her black lace underwear. I was worried, as she’d never played in public before, and had never been topped by a woman, but we re-discussed safewords, and I started by running my hands, and more specifically, my nails, all over her body. She shivered a lot. I like that. I progressed to to different sensation play; the wartenburg wheel, slightly brushing/tapping her with my synthetic broom, hitting her harder with that (until she politely informed me that she’d discovered that she didn’t like sting). Then I brought out my new flogger, and broke it in. It handled quite nicely, and so did she. I alternated the flogger, spanking, and nails down her back, punctuated with kisses, checking in with her every so often. She seemed to really be enjoying herself.

I took her arms down to turn her around, in order to get access to her breasts, but once her arms were down, she said her circulation felt funny in one wrist. Problem solved; we left the general play space, heading to the womens only space, and bent to over a bench as I continued to flog her. It was harder trying to move around, what with my ankle, but I managed. I had a tendancy to ask her far too often if she was doing ok, but hey, this is why I’m not really a top. I’m way too concerned about if they’re ok, if they’re processing alright, etc, to really let them get into the scene, or head space. I think my topping is far better done in the context of more of the bedroom, where I can tie someone up, and banter and have fun, but maybe it’s not that hardcore, or really a “scene.”

Then, once I was fairly certain that she was quite into it, and was ready for a bit more, I had her lay down on her back on a table, and close her eyes. I slapped, pinched, and just generally played with her breasts, alternating with slapping her thighs, running the wheel up and down her body. Finally, after checking in again to make sure she was still ok with it, I made her spread her legs, applied (with the beautiful snap) my black nitrile gloves, and dripped lube on her. Slowly, I worked from one finger, to two, to three, and was fucking her as she bucked off the table and moaned. I grabbed a vibe (that I’d already slipped into a condoms…I’m smooth like buttah), and pressed it against her clit. She continued to buck and moan and press against me…and then I heard a different noise. I slowly extricated myself from her, and moved up the table to be next to her. She was crying.

Ok. Of the two people I’ve topped in more of a “scene” like setting (as compared to like with J, where it was just more playful), I’ve made them both cry. Non-negotiated crys. So I stopped everything, and hopped on the table with her, and held her. I told her it was ok, and that maybe what she needed was an emotional release (of course after making sure it wasn’t something unplanned that was hurting her), and we sat like that for bit. I got her a glass of water, helped her change into one of my negligees (way more comfy that getting back into her school girl outfit), cleaned up the table, and we just sat for a bit, and then walked around a little more, meeting up with our friends from Soft Serve to chat (where she totally busted his cock out in the middle of the dungeon, and distracted me from conversation…I really want to be fucked by someone strapped on more and more…) before we decided to call it a night.

We talked in the car on the way home…Sasha told me she thinks she has an easier time being topped by men, because of social constructions around power, which I think is really interesting. I’m the other way; I’m much more ok with women and FTMs topping me, because they have experience the same type of oppression and violence in our society, and so I feel that we’re coming at it from a more understanding and equal level than an XY guy. So it was interesting. I felt like a bad person, but only for a little, and didn’t have the same amount of guilt as the last time I made someone cry.

I was talking to K about it, and he suggested that because I’m a more emotional person, I bring out more extreme emotions in my bottoms…making them confront things that make them uncomfortable. Again, something interesting to consider. Or perhaps, I’m really not meant to top people :) Either way, it was an interesting scene with Sasha, and I have to say, I love wielding that flogger!

Once home, Sasha crashed on my couch, and I hopped into bed for a little quality time with my Hitachi before falling asleep…we didn’t get home until 2ish, and had to be up at 8am to make it back to the hotel for the 9:30am classes.

And that was Friday :)

-Essin’ Em

I’m taking myself off the pain killers. I think they’re making me hyper emotional. I’m not taking them regularly, but 1-3 times a day…and they’re definitely affecting me. This morning, I broke my favorite key chain in the door, and burst into tears. Last night, I couldn’t open the podcasts I’d recorded in Garage Band in order to re-save them so I could upload them….I got so frustrated that I just slammed my computer shut, and crawled into bed with a book.

So I’m cutting myself off, and will just deal with the pain, and hopefully ice packs will help. I’m seeing my knee doctor AND a new ankle doctor on Monday…and start PT up again next Tuesday.

I’m sorry for all the ridiculously high strung posts lately…I’m writing up about Thunder (which was AWESOME), and will stop being so dramatic (I hope).

And my friends are right. I need to go back to just living life, and taking things how they come. It’s much healthier than this over thinking.

And one of my new friends from Thunder who lives in NM just emailed me. So clearly, people DO like me (or really don’t…I’m kind of like black licorice). And Team Gina is coming this weekend.

Ergo, life is going to get better, damn it.

So my apologies, and hopefully, I’ll be getting better.

I mentioned something last week about how our past experiences color how we interact in the future. And it’s becoming more and more evident.

I’ve written (not sure if it here, or in my private blog) about how I have a problem with letting people walk all over me. I try to be a good person, a good friend, the best I can be. In college, I drove people all over the place, pretty much never getting gas money. I’d help people move in and out. When I was an RA, I was the one who would pick up all the extra shifts to make sure they got cover. I also, fall of my junior year, went with to the hospital with every single alcohol poisoning case because no one else would. I would cry myself to sleep a few times a month, but never let anyone see me cry. I would never ask for help, even if I really needed it…I could do everything myself

I wound up seeing a therapist for a few sessions, paid for by the college. She told me I was counter-dependent, had a lot of of trouble asking for, or even just accepting help, and that I had to start opening up to people and standing up for myself, or else I’d eventually explode. I worked on learning to trust people more, and put more of my own emotion out there. I had two best friends, and I talked with them about this a lot, and got to the point where I could ask them, occasionally, for help.

Then I moved to Philly. I worked on trusting people more. And really lost out because of it. There was my first derby league — I left because of how an issue of sexual assault was dealt with, but wished them well. Suddenly, the majority of women that I’d spent 10-15 hours with a week for months, the women with whom I’d traveled around the East Coast, the women who were my close friends and a significant part of my life, were no longer talking to me. One even hacked my myspace page. Fine. Then, a new friend of mine, to whom I’d grown really close to, and hung out with and talked to several times a week, left me standing on a street corner in Philly, crying (oddly enough, on crutches with a broken foot), and sent me an email asking me to never contact her again. My derby wife, who always seemed excited to hang out, who planned fun outings for us together, whose wedding I performed…started canceling our plans. 8 weeks in a row. I saw her a couple of times when I went into her husband’s shop to get tattooed. She told me she’d come to my going away party, and then didn’t. And I never heard from her.

I had one or two good friends in Philly…but for the most part, I got really screwed over. I’d drive into the city, or take a 60 minutes train ride into the city just to be stood up. I’d have people cancel on me an hour or so before we were supposed to meet. I’d always have to go meet them in their area…plan what we were doing, suggest it, etc, and then half the time, they’d find something more exciting to do. My choice was to either have no friends or flakey friends, so I put up with it, but I felt really shitty about things.

Then I moved back here. My friends have been amazing…helping me move, hanging out at my place and theirs, going out with me, helping me with my ankle injury, etc. They are GOOD friends (with a few flakes). But I can handle a few flakes in the midst of a lot of good, reliable friends….much better than one or two good friends amoungst a bunch of flakes.

So with that ridiculously long back story, here is the deal.

I am really fucking confused about this L situation. I like her. I do. Other wise, I wouldn’t be dealing with these feelings. When we hang out, I enjoy myself. We have interesting conversations, we laugh, we’re awkward together. I want to make this work.

But I keep over thinking and second guessing everything. We had a date (the 3rd) scheduled for tonight, and she canceled. She had good reasons; her band’s video shoot ran long, and then practice ran late, and she’s leaving Thursday for Portland, so she had a bunch of things she needed to take care of before she left, she was in a bad mood, etc. I understand. These things happen.

The problem is my brain. It’s scared. We’ve had 3 planned dates…one got rescheduled (again, for a good reason — she had a huge test to study for), and one has been canceled. Can you see how my history might be making me a bit nervous? Add to that the “I don’t want a relationship” talk after the second date, and basically, I’m confused.

I mean, if she had told me yesterday that she was super busy, and we couldn’t hang out until she got back, I would have been disappointed, but understood. Instead, we made plans for tonight, and she actually made me nervous the other way — she started telling me all the reasons we couldn’t hang out again (other than on Monday night) before she left. I was like “um, ok, we’re hanging out Monday…so that’s fine. You need time to get stuff done, and you’re going on a trip. Have fun.” When I suggested she come to my next derby bout, she told me it was the day before her father’s 60th birthday party, which she was planning, but that she’d ‘try to pull some strings’ to come. I told her it wasn’t a big deal, I wasn’t even skating. She told me she’d definitely make another one this seasons. When we were talking about movies, she asked me to promise her one thing, that we’d definitely watch Shark Attack 3: Megalodon, even if we didn’t watch it on the Monday night date. These things, to me, are much more indicative of seriousness…and yet, she was the one who had told me she didn’t want anything serious.

I was so fucking confused. And tired and cranky after having a bad and stressful day. And not ready to spend the next week (plus) until she gets back in limbo. I wrote a text telling her that “do whatever you need to do. I totally understand — I don’t want to cause any drama!” But I stood up for myself, I erased it before I sent it. Damn it, I couldn’t rearrange my plans to get to do something tonight — I can’t drive with my ankle the way it is. So I was missing out on hanging out with friends. She finally called around 7pm to tell me she definitely couldn’t make it, because she didn’t want her bad mood to rub off on me and had stuff to do. It was all I could do to inform her that her actions had already affected my mood, that I was feeling like I was back in my college and Philadelphia cycle all over again. She said she’d call me soon. I said something snarky about “yeah, I’m sure.” And hung up.

I was in self-preservation mode. The last two years, I’ve put myself out there, and been hurt, even with friends, far too many times. If she didn’t want to hang out, I wasn’t going to put myself out there to get hurt again. I texted her (I know, all this texting is becoming crazy) that I wanted to know if this was a legit excuse, and whether this was going to be a common occurrence. That I was getting mixed messages, and wanted things plain and simple.

Then I said “fuck it” to texting, and called her.

We talked. I talked first, and tried to explain where I was coming from. And then she talked. And wanted me not to make assumptions, that she was flakey, because she wasn’t, and that she didn’t use people. I explained that I wasn’t making assumptions about her…but that I had lots of issues with this in the past and wanted to make it perfectly clear whether she was trying to tell me to bugger off, or whether it was really just a situation where things came up, and she legitimately had to cancel. She told me it was column B, that she did want to see me. I tried to explain that this wasn’t me trying to take up her time, or become super clingy. It was just that we had something planned, that I had turned down other things on my schedule, and then to have it canceled when I then had to spend the rest of the night home alone thinking about it.

I wished her a good night, and a good trip. She said she’d call me soon.

I was silly, and texted her, telling her I was glad we had that conversation, and to play well on the radio tomorrow.

And I’m going to leave it at that. Ball is in her court. If she calls, and wants to set up another date, I’m game. If not, well, at least I had a fun adventure in the ER (let me tell you, my foot is still a rainbow of pretty colors), and some really fucking good conversation.

And then I’ll have to figure out how to not like her anymore. Sigh. It’s so much easier when you’re just hooking up with friends.

-Essin’ Em

PS. Will someone tell me if this is normal for “seeing each other” or if these drugs and my weird brain are making me way more dramatic and emotional that one is supposed to be…

If you live in the NYC area, you should pick up a copy of L-Magazine.

If you don’t, then you should go read the Private Lives of Public People online. I’m interviewed, and so is Jayme Waxman, Ron Jeremy, Lex Alptraum, and many other awesome people.

Yeah, that’s pretty much it. Freaking cool article…read it.

-Essin’ Em

L and I had a mini break down in communication last week that had me feeling like I was back in the vicious circle of no one wanting me for me…either just not wanting me, or wanting me just for sex.

It wasn’t her fault. She texted me Wednesday to see how my ankle was feeling, and that she was thinking about me. We texted back and forth a bit (I am becoming quite the texter), and then I took a painkiller and hopped into bed. Until I got a text from her that stopped me in lack o’ shoes. “Tell me, what are you looking for in all this?”

My first reaction was my track record. I don’t do long term relationships; J and I were 6 months or less, and we knew we weren’t going to be together in the long term…and that was my longest. Was she worried I was pursuing her for the sex, and didn’t actually like her for the person she was?

I texted back something about not having relationship goals, but that I hadn’t felt this way about someone in a while, and wanted to see where it would go, and where she wanted it to go.

I got back “I know one thing regarding this subject. I’m not ready for a relationship. When I’m with a girl, she’s my world, and I just don’t have the time to be the girlfriend that I want to be. I’ve got a lot on my plate and I dunno where I’ll be in the next year, but I know one more thing. I like you quite a bit and I’d like to continue to see you.” (Yes, this was all in a text message. At least she uses proper grammar when she texts!).

I was befuddled. She didn’t want to be in a relationship, but wanted to keep seeing me? Wasn’t dating someone essentially a type of relationship, just one that wasn’t long term.

I needed to talk, not text, about this. She was in class, so I called her two hours later to have a little discussion. I couldn’t figure out if this was her polite way of saying “let’s be friends,” or if I’d done something to scare her into thinking I was looking for a wife. I mean, I’m in my 20s; I’m NOT looking for someone to be with for the next 10 years…I’m just not.

So we talked. Talking is good. Except when there is more miscommunication. She didn’t want someone with whom to celebrate anniversaries, or a girlfriend, or relationship. She didn’t want me to call her my partner.

This is where different definitions came into play. To me, anyone I’m “with,” in any sense of the word, is a partner of mine. If we fuck, you were my partner…sexual partner, but partner. Dating, you’re my partner. Committed relationship, you’re my partner. If for some reason we got married, you’d be my partner too. It’s just this great term that works for all genders, all orientations, all relationship levels; I love it. I use the term partner for everything…but to her, partner was just a synonym for girlfriend, so using that term was not at all what she wanted. Fine. I told her I wouldn’t call her my partner…what should I call her? “This girl I am dating.” More of a mouthful, but fine.

And then there is the word relationship. A relationship is an interaction between two (or more) people. Sasha and I have a relationship, K and I have a relationship, I have a (strained) relationship with my family. L and I have a TYPE of relationship right now; we’re apparently “seeing each other,” which to me, in essence, IS a relationship. It’s just not the type of relationship she’s not wanting to get into.

So we broke it down. She wanted it to be open; to be able to date other people. Perfect. She didn’t want to be girlfriends or partners. Fine. She wanted it to be fun and relaxed, and just see where it went. Ideal! This was exactly what I was looking for, we just different terms for it. We went into details about the seeing other people…some people like to know every little thing their partner does, all the nitty gritty. Other people just like to know who they’re going out with, and if they’re sexually active with them. Others, like L, don’t want to know anything. I just want to know how many people she’s sexually active with, and that she’s practicing safer sex. Good talk.

But I didn’t feel ok. Yes, this was primarily what I wanted; an open, laid back, fun and friendly “dating” thing. I mean, I was going to have to change my terminology, but she’d already told me the night before that she didn’t like the word cunt, so I was already re-working how I said things…this was just one more word to change.

So why was I upset?

It was the day after the second date, and already, she was telling me she didn’t want to have a relationship with me. Granted, I was on pain, and on narcotics, so I was way more emotionally charged then normal, but really…how does it feel when you have barely kissed someone, you like them, are attracted to them, and they tell you they don’t want to be in a relationship with you? Yes, her definition of a relationship is different than mine, so she wasn’t shutting me down completely, but let me tell you, being told that doesn’t do much for your self esteem.

I’m sick of it. Really. What is wrong with me that people don’t want to be in a relationship with me? I’m not high maintenance — I don’t want to see them everyday. Hell, I don’t have the time! I work full time, do derby, have PT, and more. I have a life…and want them to have one too. I’m not the most pretty girl by socially conventional standards, but I think I’m nice to look at, and I have good hygiene. I can carry on an interesting (albeit it occasionally awkward) conversation. I cook. I have a job. I’m well read. So why is it that everyone wants to be fuck buddies or friends with benefits? (And when I say everyone, I meant the people I wind up having sex with) If that! K made sense. He wasn’t looking for a relationship, I was leaving, we wouldn’t have made a good couple anyways. But even J didn’t want a relationship…we just fell into something like one (although it was open, and we only saw each other a few times a month). He had just wanted it (or so he told me when we broke up) to be a summer fling, with hot sex.

So yes, once I had the definition cleared up, I felt a little better. Dating is good. I like dating. But really, why was it that she felt the need to tell me at this point that basically, she didn’t want to be with me? We haven’t even had sex yet, so I felt that I must have terrified her with something I said. I texted her, telling her we should talk about this more when I was less emotionally charged.

She called back later, to talk more. She told me that she just wanted to be open and honest. I appreciated this…but explained to her exactly why it had kind of rubbed me the wrong way, to try and see if she could understand where I was coming from. I mean, when you’ve been the fat, outspoken, odd girl for your entire life, and everyone really just wants you for sex, because they think it’ll be good because you’ve got a Master’s in Sex, or it’ll be interesting, because they’ve never had sex with a woman, or with a curvy girl, or ______…it kind of makes sense that rejection, of any sort, early on is just like rubbing salt in an old wound.

I think she got it. I’m not sure. I wanted her to get that I was totally ok with what she wanted…I don’t want something super clingy that involves me being with someone all the damn time, or feeling bad because I can’t come to their roommate’s dog’s half birthday dinner. I don’t need that, want that, nor do I have the time for it. But I DO want something that is more than just sex. I can (seemingly) find that when that is all I want. But right now, I want someone that enjoys ME. Granted, that can including sexxxing me up, because we all know how much I love teh sex0rs. But I want someone that also enjoys my mind, my sense of humor, my awkwardness, my bowling skillz (or lack thereof), etc. So I hope that she gets that. I think that she does. She’s a pretty smart gal. And kind of really fucking hot too. We had a little text message exchange yesterday that had me distracted through my nap and for the rest of the evening.

She’s coming over tomorrow (I still can’t drive because of my foot) to watch a movie. I’m a such a romantic; I’m frantically unpacking, trying to find Shark Attack 3: Megalodon. Did I mention that I’m a really big nerd?

-Essin’ Em

The best of this week’s blogs by the bloggers who blog them. Highlighting the top 3 posts as chosen by Sugasm participants. Want in Sugasm #142? Submit a link to your best post of the week using this form. Participants, repost the link list within a week and you’re all set.

This Week’s Picks

Comedy vs. Tragedy

“Are you on your period? What? Did he just say…”

Ian, or, Sometimes Sex is Hilarious

“In short, it isn’t sex blogger sex.”

A Wish

“I wish that you could know the indescribable pleasure of being enfolded in your warm, gentle wetness.”

Mr. Sugasm Himself

Sugar Bank

Editor’s Choice

Road Rage

More Sugasm

Join the Sugasm

See also: Fleshbot’s Sex Blog Roundup each Tuesday and Friday.

(Sugasm participants should re-post all the links above within a week. The following links may be excluded as long as you include all the above links.)

Thoughts on Sex and Relationships

Forgetting

How Do You Flirt With Milk?

The Hunt

I Don’t Usually Date, but…

I have huge tits.

Men on Pointe

My Femme Cock

Nibbles and Bits: Vegetarian? Really? Doh!

Present and first love making

Sex Advice

How to Make Her Want Anal Sex

Play Safe

The Power of Suggestion- And How It Helps You Meet Women

NSFW Pics, Videos & Audio

Gisele Bundchen Topless and Nipple Slip Pictures

HNT – Purple Lace Part Two

Lady Sascha Does HHNT

Marta – Professional

Once upon a time HNT

Pornsaint Tara Tainton

A rose by any other name would smell as sweet -HNT

Sam Bound

Sex Humor

It did not work

When your mother has more sex than you do…

Erotic Writing and Experiences

Can’t Get Enough

Fiction – The Wrong Smith Girl

Getting to fuck the neighbor 15

Harder…

In any language,…

Le Cadeaux

Nine: of nasty names

Oh Honey, Make Yourself Cum for Me

The Parking Garage

Pointless

The Ride.

Rub a Dub Dub

The Second Time Around

Slow.Soft.Hot.Perfect

Spin the bottle-the conclusion

Tits~n~Teets 2

TNT – Part 2

The Wanting

Writhe

Sex News, Reviews & Interviews

Can A Film Prostitute In 1930’s Shanghai Fare Any Better Than One Of The 100,000 Prostitutes Working The Streets In The City?

Donate To Satine Phoenix’s Tantric Exploration

Escort X: Find great escorts

Spanking erotica interview with Alison Tyler

The value of erotic blogging

Wanted: Your Orgasms Caught on Tape

BDSM & Fetish

Auction of a Slave

Changing Cravings For Pain: A Survey

A Beautifully Cruel Predicament Bondage Scene

Cuntwriting

Fitting Punishment

The house in Vienna

July MVK: Play piercing

Leather Retreat 2008 – The Toll Booth

Mz Berlin Gets The Bastinado And Rack Torture On Hogtied

Necessary Roughness

Routine Maintenance, pt. 2

A Scene in Three Parts … (part III)

Taken and Collared as a Sex Slave while her husband sleeps

Telegraph

Trying on new shoes, Friday night edition

As some of you (all of you? many of you?) may know, I was sexually assaulted in college. I wrote up my story of being assaulted here, in recognition of sexual assault awareness and prevention month (April). Read it or don’t; it is out there because I feel survivors should speak up, if they can. Without our words, people can continue to pretend that it isn’t happening, that the numbers are wrong, that our friends and family members aren’t really victims and survivors of rape, assault, incest, harassment, and more.

There is a call out for women survivor’s stories (I am one of the first to point out the plethora of male survivors as well…but this specific project focuses on women). It’s called “Hear Us Roar“, and their goal is to collect the stories of 100 women (not just the story, but how you have recovered, who you’ve grown, and what you want to share with other survivors) by July 31st, turn them into a book by the end of the year, and use that book to raise a ton of money for sexual assault response and prevention charities, as well as to help other survivors get through their experiences, and realize that there is light on the other side.

If you are a woman who has experienced sexual assault, I encourage you to share your story. I know not everyone can…and that’s ok too. However, if you’re at that point please go to Hear-Us-Roar.com, and share YOUR story (by Thursday!), in order to help out women and charities all over the world. I know I submitted mine (and cutting it down to 1200 words was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done!). Please feel to repost, and tell your friends, families, readers, etc, about it.

My thoughts and hopes are with all survivors, regardless of sex, gender, age, orientation, race, religion, ability, or how it happened. We’re all in this together, and we’ll all pull through.

-Essin’ Em