Sexuality Happens

I have a facade, that I’m not romantic, that I’m not what Cait and Q and I jokingly call “woo-woo.”  I’m not talking about tarot, and chakras, and processing and that kind of “woo-woo” but more of the “I listen for the sound of your car engine starting up so I know you’ve made it to your car safely…but it makes me miss you already” kind of “woo-woo.”

I think I don’t like very traditional, cliched romance. Don’t buy me a dozen red roses…now, you if want to randomly pick me wild flowers, or get me a bouquet of my favorite flowers, that’s different. Don’t buy me a box of chocolates because you’re “supposed to” for valentine’s day – I’d much rather you surprise me with peanut M & M’s or Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups when I’m having an off day.

I DO like holding hands, but I like it because I like your touch, not because I have to prove myself to anyone. I like finding gifts I think you’d like…not because it’s our anniversary, or because I feel compelled to…but because I like getting you things that will put a smile on your face.

Q called me out the other day. She told me I was romantic AND woo-woo. And you know what, I admit it. She’s right…in some situations. When she gave me a ticket for Rent, my heart melted.  I didn’t even look to see where we were sitting…just going to a show that meant so much to me, well, it meant so much to me.  The other night, as I lay in bed, sharp, stabbing pains twisted through my knees, and her hands wrapped around me, holding me, I saw her as my knight in shining armor.

To me, romantic is doing that things that make YOUR partner happy, not the things that make Hallmark happy.  Q and I met at a strap-on workshop I taught.  To many people, not nearly as romantic as falling into her arms in Paris, or something like that. But to me? I think that’s an amazing place to have met someone.

I am cheesy. I do like the woo-woo. We stood on this giant sculpture in the middle of Downtown the other evening, her arms wrapped around me as I played the question game, asking her little bits and pieces about her, the wind blowing through my hair, everyone else having disappeared.

THAT is romance, and woo-woo to me. I love it. I love that she kisses my hand in the dark of the movie theatre, when she’s sure no one is watching. I love that she makes me quesadillas before I have run out the door. I love that she’s silly, and smart, and sexy. I love that I have to pull on her hand to make her slow down her walking…and then she slows down far too slow.

So yes, I’m a romantic, in some ways.  But only in the ways that work for me.

-Essin’ Em