Sexuality Happens

I have a kind of confession. It’s only kind of a confession, because my friends all know this about me.

I LOVE taking care of people.

In college, I’d drive around on many weekend nights (before I started going to the Rocky Horror Picture Show weekly) in my mini van and then Stratus, blaring 80’s music, picking up my drunk friends and driving them back to campus. Then, when I was an RA, I was the person that would make tea for sick residents, give chocolate to homesick/broken hearted residents, tuck in drunk residents with a Nalgene full of water.

I love taking care of friends who are sad, hurting, broken hearted, sick, recovering from surgery, etc.

Weird? Yes. It’s just who I am.  Someone told me it’s because I’m a 2 (enneagram something?), others because I am a caretaker personality, and some because I’m counter-dependent.

So it’s been frustrating to me that in the over 14 months we’ve been together, Q has never been sick. I’ve been sick multiple times, plus pain days, plus surgery recovery. She’s had to take care of me a lot. I never got the chance until know to do it for her. 

I mean sure, I’ve had nights where I’ve cooked of her, brought her everything she needed, given her a back massage, and fucked her silly for hours. Yes, in a way, that IS taking care of her. I’ve also been there for her during gender breakdowns and other cry sessions, but those are few and far between; she’s not one to really show her emotions.

But this past weekend, Q got sick.  It was sad, as we had to cancel plans with friends, and the couples massage I’d scheduled. Plus, she’s not sick very often (we’re talking a cold once every two years), so she was sad and grumpy about being sick.

However, it was so nice. Because it was the weekend, I was home, and I could take care of her. I made her tea regularly (interspersed with Emergen-C, Jamba Juice and Theraflu), I went out to get her lots of foods that she wanted, walked over to get more Nyquil, tucker her in, forced her into hot showers, cleaned up her tissues, rubbed Vicks vapor rub on her chest, scratched her head as she fell asleep, etc.

And I loved it.

Obviously, I don’t WANT her to be sick. I know how much I hate being sick, and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. However, it’s nice to know that I’ve still got it, that I still have that Jewish mom (without kids) vibe that I enjoy getting to rock out with so much!

-Essin’ Em

I know everyone is writing about Valentine’s day, cause that’s what you do on Feb 14th right?

Q and I don’t really believe in a specific day that you tell each other you love each other; we do it every day.

Plus, I wrote about Valentine’s Day and Singles Awareness Day last year.

So we won’t really be celebrating; I got her a binder that she wanted for her chest.  Yesterday, we went and got couples massages; hers to relax, mine to work on preventing migraines. And a lovely reader of mine actually bought me a mini vulva puppet, as per my request.

So instead, you get a few old school heart pin-up pictures by Ken Norcross circa 2008:

Q is genderqueer. For the most part, she identifies as a butch dyke.  For the most part, she uses feminine pronouns. When we’re in public, and there are no gender neutral bathrooms, she chooses to use the women’s bathroom, if she really really really has to go and there are no other options.  So yes, she is a “woman” by many cultural standards.

But she isn’t one. She’s genderqueer.  Everyone morning, I watch her put on two sports bras (or the new Frog bra/binder I got her) to try and squish down her chest, and every night I watch as she takes them off, angry red lines around her ribcage the only evidence of how hard she tries to hide what she feels doesn’t fit her gender.

There are times where it takes us an hour or two to get ready to go out, not because we have to look perfect, but because that day, her hips seem to show too much in outfits, or her chest isn’t flat enough for the shirts she wants to wear. I look at her and tell her how handsome she is, how much she looks like a frat boy (minus the popped collar), but it seems as though nothing I say can convince her.

Sometimes, there are mini (or maxi) gender melt downs.  Something usually triggers it; something someone said to her (like calling us ladies), something I said that I didn’t realize. Or maybe it’s looking in the mirror, or not having clothes fit the way she wants.  She’s start crying, and she’s inconsolable. I understand why…but I WANT to fix it, and feel completely powerless and inept that I can’t.  It’s similar to when I have disability melt downs; there’s nothing anyone can say to make it better; it’s both an internal issue and a social contruction, and nothing can just make you feel better or make it go away.  So I lie there with her, and I hold her.

It’s hard. I wish there was an answer. When I was in Denver, she called me in tears; someone, a high school student on campus for some conference, had called her out in the women’s bathroom, asking her what she was doing in there.  Half of me wanted to tell her it was going to be ok, tell her to fuck ‘em, tell her that I loved her (which I did), but the other half wanted to say CONGRATS! You’re getting viewed the way you want to be.  You’re making people think outside the binary.  But I didn’t. Why? Because that doesn’t make it any easier given that she’s going to have to go to the women’s restroom at work every day. She’s the only genderqueer appearing staff member in her building (and one of very few on campus). She’s very alone.

While I have issues with Femme Invisibility, I know my frustration with that doesn’t even hold a candle to this. I just can’t imagine how she feels. I wish I could hold her and fix it and make it better. I wish it was “just” an issue of money; I’d say up, and get her top surgery, and it would all be better.

But this runs so deep. It is entrenched in many layers of herself, and in many aspects of society.

So what so I do? How can I be there? What does support look like? I’ve aksed her…sometimes she answers, and sometimes she tells me that she doesn’t even know.

I don’t know what I’m asking here. Tips? Ideas? Empathy?

-Essin’ Em

Our friends had just left, after we all watched Q’s team, the Jets, get their Superbowl hopes crushed.  I’d been telling them both about the Crash Pad Series, and it was still up on the screen.

“Wanna watch some porn” Q asked me, her hand on my knee.

“I thought you didn’t like porn…” I asked her questioningly.  She’d grudgingly sit through much of the porn I’d watch, but has never seen me in anything I’ve shot, and never seemed interested in purposely watching porn.

“I know, but YOU do. It turns YOU on.  So why don’t you show me some of your favorite scenes?”

After a moment of pondering as to what her plan was behind this sudden change of heart, I logged in and started clicking through. I knew which scene I wanted to show her; Dylan Ryan and Trucker Cash’s second scene shot for CPS – in the new location, on the edge of the bed.  Q and I have a very similar dynamic to these two, or at least to the way they play things out during their scenes. Moreover, I still find this scene one of the hottest queer porn scenes I’ve ever seen…and I’ve seen a lot. They have connection, they have fucking hot sex, they have everything.

I started the scene, and Q and I lazily draped limbs over each other on the couch as the scene started playing out.  Almost immediately, I started getting more and more turned on, and as Q’s hands began to wander, I thought she was feeling the same.

As usual, I was right. We only made it about halfway through the scene before Q was slamming my laptop shut and pulling me towards the bedroom. Usually, she likes it when I top her, make her call me Mistress, tie her up. Not today. Her lips pressed into mine as she forced me down onto the edge of the bed, perching on the edge as we devoured each other, her hands ripping off my clothes with no attempt at sensuality or romance. None was needed.

Once I was complete stripped, clothes scattered on the floor, she used her hand on my throat to press me back into the bed, the other hand grasping and pulling my nipples. I started to protest, asking if she didn’t want me on the bed, didn’t want me to take her clothes off, etc. She shhed me, and started moving her head lower.

Her lips met mine, and without meaning to, my body bucked up into her mouth. Her tongue danced across my clit; lightly at first to tease, and then with enough pressure to really frustrate me. She knows I love oral but can’t come from it, so she stayed there, on her knees, eating me out as I thrashed about on the bed, so horny, so frustrated, wanting more and not getting it. With one hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her closer into me, the other grabbed the sheets off the bed, reaching, needing to be holding something.

She pumped lube into her hand, and as she slid two fingers into me, she pulled me up to kiss her. It was a deep, wild, completely uncontrolled kiss, with me gasping; both for air, and because her digits were slowly turning my cunt intro a dripping puddle.  It took everything in me to get out the solitary word; towel.

Quizzically, she looked at me until the little lightbulb when off in her head.  Frantically, one hand still partially inside me, she looked around for a towel to stick under me, knowing that as soon as she really started fucking me, a torrent of liquid was going to start squirting from me.  

Having found one, she placed it hastily under my ass, and returned to her knees, this time putting another finger in me, bringing the grand total to three. Three fingers that she worked in and out and in and out of me until I began to come. So hard. Over and over. Then a fourth.  Her whole hand, aside from her thumb, was pounding into me as she ripped orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of me, grunts, moans, groans and screams coming from my mouth like some possessed primal being. Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, she handed me the Hitachi. 

Again, I came. And came. And came. I felt like I’d fallen off the edge of the earth and was drowning in the atmosphere, unable to breathe or move or stop coming.

Then she brought me down again. Climbed up on the bed to hold me. Reminded me how crucial breathing was to living.  At some point, with her next to me, I returned to Earth, smiling, but oh so high, doped up on endorphins.

And then. as she ran her fingers over my body. I shivered. Just a little, but she caught it.

“What do you want? You want more? You can take more?”

I nodded just a little. “I might need a little bit. To calm down, to get water, I don’t know.”

Without another word, she was back on her knees, her whole hand in me, fucking me again. I came again, and lost all grip on reality. For the next few minutes, I couldn’t think speak act know be. I just was. I was coming and coming until I didn’t think there was anything left in me, and then I’d come again. I remember the Hitachi being back in my hands at some point. I know I must have been screaming really loudly, because I remember he hand over my mouth, much hotter and much less effective than any gag would ever be.

And then I shattered, and fell into pieces. There was no more, nothing left in me.

And she picked me back up, and cuddled me on the bed, stroking my hair, moving me out of the epic puddle I’d created, despite the towel. She kissed me gently, helped me drink some water to sooth my aching throat, and together, we lay there, reconnecting.

Who would have thought a little porn could have inspired so much?

Lots of people have posted this…so I’m going to be a total sheep and join the group. Yup. My apologies for a less than original post, but at least you’ll get to know a bit more about me.

-Essin’ Em

1. Your role?

I know people want the answer to be dom/dub/mistress/switch/bottom, etc. I DO pro-domme, and then, I identify as Mistress. Otherwise, my role is as a pervert or kinkster. I like what I like, I wanna try new things, I like to pull duct tape off my Moose, and I like to tie Q up, and I love getting fire cupped and lit on fire and I love it when Q puts her hand over my mouth or around my throat. Ergo, no roles. Just kinkster.

2. Current relationship?

Mostly monogamous with Q. I play kink wise with other people, and I fist people for classes, and I shoot porn with other people. However, as far as having sexual and/or emotional relationships (other than close friendships), Q and I are currently exclusive.

3. Your favorite type of play?

Oooh.  Fire play or knife play. Maybe the violet wand, but I haven’t done it enough.

4. Your most hated type of play?

Not interested in trying roman showers at all. Ever. Either side.  Also, I’m against play involving bad grammar…so M/s or D/s relationships that involve typing W/we and Y/you.

5. The most annoying habit of your owner/slave/whatever you call your SO?

I call her my lover mostly. Or partner. Anyways…umm. Lately, she’s been to tired for sex. That makes me sad, although I completely validate it. Annoying? Hmmm. Not putting enough towels under me…I always soak the bed.

6. Your deepest fear?

Spending my life alone.

7. Your most memorable public experience (or what you would like to do in public)?

I like having public sex. Q does not.  Ergo, my favorite public experience is my fisting class at the Denver Sancuary in January. 50 people came to see me fist someone – standing room only! (visit ShannaKatz.com for more classes/workshops)

8. What gets you in the mood?

Anything to do with my neck. The sounds of a hitachi. Fire.

9. Favorite method of masturbation?

I honestly can’t remember the last time I masturbated.  Almost a year maybe?

10. Scariest thing you’ve seen or heard of in BDSM land?

People doing suspension involving neck ties because they were “edge players.”  Also, people putting things in butts that didn’t have a good base.

11. Number of hours you spend on Fet when you should be doing other things?

Too many.  Actually, it’s not really that bad. Are you my fetlife friend?

12. Thing that was hotter in fantasy than it was in reality?

Threesome. For sure.

13. Most longed-for experience?

Queer gang bang.  Preferrably on film.

14. Ouchiest toy?

Canes. I like hitting people with them, but do NOT want them to touch me. Period.

15. Book or movie that every newbie has to read/see?

Opening Up, by Tristan Taormino

16. Thing you’d like to change about yourself?

I’d have less chronic pain in my knees and body as a whole.

17. Thing you’re most proud of?

Continuing to hold my values and ethics as I become a professional perv.

18. Funniest dom name you’ve ever heard?

90% of scene names make me laugh.  I validate them, but SO not my style.

19. Do your family and friends know?

Yup. Everyone except my extended family in FL and Israel.

20. Is twenty questions too many?

Obviously not.

I want trying to talk to Q the other day about one of my two best friends.

See, I have two BFFs, if you will.  One, E, I met in high school when I chose her out of a pile of applications to be my costuming assistant for Charlie’s Aunt (in odd news, the guy who played Charlie’s Aunt in this play is the guy I made out with New Year’s Eve 2009. I know, right?). She lives in Denver, is getting married this summer (hence why I was trying on bridesmaid dresses) and while we aren’t much alike (she teaches yoga, likes dogs when I like cats, and enjoys florals and pastels), she’s been an amazing rock in my life. The other, A, lives in Seattle, and I was bemoaning having not heard from her in a while. We met the first day of orientation in college, at auditions for a show we both wound up in.  We’re a lot more similar than E and I; she’s also very nerdy, kinky, a writer (better than I am), social justice-y, etc.  However, she lives far away, and we’ve been having issues with touching base as of late. I miss her.

Regardless, I was talking to Q about A, and how I missed her, and wished we could be back at our “best friend” level we’ve maintained for so many years. She was having trouble understanding why I was upset at having not gotten to talk to her much lately (read: several weeks, where as E and I talk on the phone at least once a week, and text/facebook much more), so I asked her how often she talked to her best friend, who I assumed to be one of our mutual friends in Denver that I met at the same time I met her.

But it wasn’t.  She met me with a blank stare. “What do you mean?”

“You know, how often do you talk to ___ or ____?”

She looked at me again. “But you’re my best friend. They’re not. I talk to you everyday.”

I hadn’t ever thought about it that way. I mean, I tell her everything, we share so many things together (from the good to the bad, funny to serious). But I mean, she’s my partner. And that’s different than a best friend, right?

So I thought on it.  I mean, what is a best friend?  Someone you can share parts of yourself with that you might not be able to share with anyone else?  Someone to support you when you have successes, and someone to pick you up when you fall? Someone with whom you can laugh at silly things, and discuss serious subjects with? Someone who will actually tell you when something DOESN’T look good on, and when you have spinach stuck in your teeth?

Q is all of these thing to me, and more. She accepts me completely, whether that’s being in the adult industry/sex education, or prancing around the house, naked but for my leopard print snuggie. She sends me links to things that will make me smile, and to things that will make me thing. She cooks for me. She fights for me when I need help. She validates me. These are all things I expect from (or have expected from) E and A…so how is Q any different?

I’m not sure. Can your partner be your best friend? If so, can you still have other best friends? And if they can’t be your best friend, then what are they?  What IS a best friend, and how do YOU define it?

I’m leaving this open ended, as I’d love to hear thoughts from others.

-Essin’ Em

I made one of these back in March. Some relationships are the same, many are different.  Here is an update as to who everyone is, letter-wise.

Q - Updated: Q is my primary partner, the love of my life, the daddy of my kitties, my rock and so much more.  We live together in a 2-bedroom condo in Phoenix, AZ. She’s really smart, witty, sweet, caring, nerdy and awesome.  I met her at the Strap On workshop I taught at Hysteria in December 2008. Hot damn if she doesn’t fuck me well…she does fuck like a siberian tiger. And when I can’t move and am in so much pain, she brings me pills and ice packs and lies in bed with me stroking my hair. I love her more than words can say.

F - F and I were primary partners. We were together most of fall and winter 2008. She and I had gone to HS together, but not really been friends…we re-met when I was on a date with L, and really hit it off. She started out as a total submissive who hadn’t gotten to play before, but morphed into an excellent switch. We had a lot of kink play, from bondage to edge play to breath play, spankings, caning, orgasm control, forced orgasm. For all of our other issues, we connected really well during sex, had good sexual communication, and fucked good and hard for hours.  Like more than two dozen orgasms at a time.  Also, the first person who has fisted me.  We’ve since broken up. However, as the Denver dyke scene is very tight, and the Denver kink scene is close knit, and we’re both kinky dykes, we ran into each other a lot, and we’re cordial.  She is now in AA, which I really support her for.

Ms. S – Local Denver Domme who owns a dungeon, and is hilarious and a ton of fun to play with. She’s the one who did fire cupping and some violet wand play with me. I like her a lot as a person. She also teaches at Hysteria. She jokes about being a creepy old lady playing with people in their 20s, but I feel much more comfortable her than I do with lots of kinksters my age.

S- A long time crush, interesting person with deep thoughts and lots of fun overall. We had some fun and amazing sex when I was in SF, and other fun and adventures. First (and only) person I ejaculated with, and there were other firsts. A really fun, really enjoyable and completely satisfying experience.

Miss P and Miss D – Friend of mine who have now become very good friend’s of F.  Both are part of a local female domination house, and I’ve played with both. I kind of feel weird now, since we played when F and I were together, and now they play with F, and Miss D and F shot a kink set (porn) for a site together, right after F backed out on me for CrashPad. So yeah. They’re really nice and fun though.

L – L is the lovely person I met and hit on at the DMV the first week I was back in Denver, channeling Sinclair to be forward and slightly suave. We went on a few dates (she’s the one I broke my foot with), and then actually, on the same date where I met F, she told me that she wasn’t ready to be dating people. We’ve become really good friends, and hang out a lot. I’m in the midst of perverting her (and the lady she’s currently dating…who went to HS with my sister…oy) – she likes fire and electricity play now, and is totally a switch…I just don’t know how much she knows it. She also plays bass in an awesome band – Speakeasy Tiger.

M - Turns out M and I knew each other for a hot second in HS (M was a freshman when I was a senior, but we met briefly through a friend), and we re-met one night at the local dyke bar. M helped me to test out the Shunga Chocolate Body Paint, and we had a nice make-out session. Then I took M to a local play party, and later that night we had enjoyable sex, and interesting/awkward conversation (such at the whole “My anus is bleeding!” interaction). M is now engaged, and M’s finace is really nice and adorable. We still talk, and I just got Kate Bornstein’s book My Gender Workbook back, which M had borrowed.

Sasha Sappho - Sasha and I went to middle school together, and have reconnected.  We played at Thunder in the Mountains in 2008, but otherwise, are just really good friends. She now writes for the GLBTQ magazine in Denver and is freaking awesome!

KW - KW stands for Kinky Whore (by her own choosing). She was a good friend who I had made in Philly who screwed me over and completely cut me out of her life, really hurting me. That’s all.

C – I met C through a friend of mine in Philly who used to be a pro-domme, and was involved with Roller Derby. We hung out a few times, chatted, danced, etc…and in the week before I left Philly to move back to Denver, we had two amazing nights of fun, enjoyable, really connective sex. We talk occasionally on the phone, but not that often.  Amazing person.

K - K is…well. He’s intense. He’s smart. He’s interesting. He’s fucking hot. He’s…well, he’s K. I met K when I interviewed him as my replacement for my position at EdenFantasys when I left.  Biggest lust crush ever. I would have let him do pretty much anything to me.  I tried to flirt, and failed mostly, as usual.  We finally got to play at the Submit party in NYC and it was an absolutely blast.  He also made me cry when I really needed to and couldn’t.  We still talk on G-chat regularly, and he was helpful in talking to when Athena died. We hung out and he hit me (in a good way) when I visited NYC in May 09. A very cool person, and I’m glad he’s in my life. He’s also a FTM Pro Dom.  Email if you’re interested in sessioning with him.

J – J and I dated for about 6 months in 2007. We met on Craigslist (oh yes). First time I had my heart really bruised was when we broke up.  There were lots of issues with this relationship, like long distance, and age difference, and J being a sophomore in college and into drinking/drugs when it really wasn’t my scene, and me being more OCD about planning, etc. However, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. J was the first person I loved, and we had a lot of fun, tried lots of new things, and I learned a fuck ton about myself during and after this relationship. Also, the first person I fisted.  We kind of stopped contact on and off for about eight or nine months, but have recently reconnected. She now identifies as a high femme.  My mind is still trying to wrap itself around this.

The Asshole – First and only cisgender guy I ever had intercourse with. He also told me that I hadn’t really been sexually assaulted – that it was only a misunderstanding. He told me that rape was only perpetrated by strangers, and that domestic violence was only physical, never emotional or threatening. I left his apartment in tears, and have not seen him since…this was about three years ago. He tried to add me on Facebook recently. I declined.

Julius – Julius had been my best friend from about 7th or 8th grade.  He went to most of the dances with me in HS, even though we didn’t go to the same HS. We spent hours every night talking for years. He was my second “real” kiss. He was the first person to tell me that he loved me. He came to see one of my shows in college, and we hung out when I got back.  Then, about a week before I moved to Germany my junior year of college, we hooked up.  I never heard from him again. He blocked me on facebook, he didn’t return my email or hand-written letter. When I called him in 2006 before moving to Philly, he answered my call “accidentally” and then pretended to be someone else.  Last year, I wrote him a note on myspace apologizing for whatever it was that I’d done, and wishing him the best in life. He read it, but never wrote back. That’s Julius.

Right around this time last year, Q and I had sex for the first time, and I started bringing out the kink in her, and turning her into a fancy schmancy little pervert. Obviously, this has turned into more than friends with benefits or even casual dating, as we’ve moved together to Phoenix, live in a two bedroom condo together, and have merged our kitty families.

On that note, last week was Kali’s one year adopt-iversary.  I got my lovely girl last year right after coming home from my shoots in San Francisco for Crash Pad Series and NoFauxx.com.  I welcomed her as an older cat (she’s almost 8) into my home after mourning the loss of my love Athena. She has wormed her way into everyone’s heart (although Kinsey does still go after her occasionally), and is definitely Daddy’s little girl with Q.  It’s adorable.

I shot my first porn last January. Since then, I’ve also shot for GoodDykePorn.com and for a movie that Madison Young is doing for Good Releasing.  Obviously, I don’t have the right body type, gender presentation or sexual orientation to be a mainstream porn star, but I really do love the shoots I done.  I love that I’ve gotten to show people that there is more to porn than blondes with fake boobs faking orgasms.  I love that I’ve been part of the queer porn revolution.

I’ve gotten to present in San Francisco, Seattle, DC and Denver, and soon will do do in Phoenix.  I worked a temp contract job for the corporate world (at Western Union), and now I’m working a dream job at Fascinations.  Oh how things can change so much in a year.

Despite my tonsil surgery (have currently paid out $4500, and still have more bills coming in), new pain in my hips and worse pain in my knees and back, despite my credit cards being maxxed out, and my friends all living 700 miles away, despite my car breaking down and having no A/C (in PHOENIX), I am in such a better and happier place than I was last year.

So I acknowledge that.  Less depression (although it’s still there, and poor Q is still the recipient of random bursts of tears at time), more goodness, same amount of painkillers.  I say that’s pretty impressive given all the change and the recession.

So happy 2010 to all, albeit a bit late.  I look forward to what is coming (other than myself).

-Essin’ Em

Look! Look! Finally someone is doing some research oon same-sex couples who are engaged to be married/committed. Granted, I’m sure there are others out there, but look! Someone cared enough to tap into the queer blog community to find more couples, and to do their research and all that.  So hurray!

Please show the academic world that we care. If you recognize us, we will help you. If you fit the criteria and are willing, please let this researcher know you’d like to be involved. Feel free to repost.

-Essin’ Em

Engaged same-sex volunteers needed!

I am looking for volunteers for a study of attitudes towards marriage and parenthood among engaged couples.  The study consists of a 25-30 minute online survey. To qualify for the study, you must be 20-35 years old, live in the U.S., and plan to marry or have a commitment ceremony within the next 365 days. You and your romantic partner must not have children, and this must be the first marriage for both of you.
You can:

-Help a doctoral candidate;
-Increase the pool of scientific knowledge;
-Support research on marriage and families; and
-Spend some time thinking about your relationship!

I am working with Dr. Charlotte J. Patterson, a Professor of Psychology at the University of Virginia.  This study has been approved by the University of Virginia Institutional Review Board #2009025800.

If you and/or your romantic partner are interested in participating or want further information, please email me at survey.couples@gmail.com.  I will send you a link that you can use to access the study.

Thanks!

Cristina Reitz-Krueger
Doctoral Student
University of Virginia
(434) 243-8558
survey.couples@gmail.com

Nothing is perfect, no matter how hard we try.

Sometimes people have asked me via email, twitter, comments and in person, how Q and I have this perfectly perfect relationship.

The answer is that it ISN’T perfect. But we communicate about the imperfections, and we move on.

There are nights when we’re falling asleep, and I wind up crying because she didn’t tell me she loved me before she passed out. It’s a weird issue I have from my dad dying when i was 13, and she’s usually REALLY good about it. But if I’m in vulnerable place already, and she’s tired and forgets, it might set me off.  So she hugs me and she holds me (after she asks if I’m crying and I valiantly try to shake my head and she tells me not to lie to her and I tell her I could never lie to her really), and we talk about what it was that set me off.

Or one of us brings up something about gender, and she cries, and I think I said something wrong, and it was really just the conversation about gender that set her off, and we talk about it, and hold each other, and discuss it and she lets it out, and we cuddle.

When we came back from New York, we had the worst fight we’d ever had.  Over the cat litter. Why? Neither of us had slept in two days, we hadn’t had any time alone as just us in five days, we’d been traveling all day, and were stressed. So I got frustrated that she was sleeping and Jasper was trying to pee outside the litter box because it was a mess and she’d forgotten to tell me we were out of litter and she got upset that I was frustrated, and kaBOOM. I left sobbing, driving to three groceries at midnight (all closed) trying to get cat litter.  Then I came home, and we crawled into bed, holding each other, telling each other how much we loved each other, and how sorry we were. The next day we talked about the fight, how it came to be, I bought cat litter, and she changed the litter boxes. Then we fucked. And we talked some more.

We talk about everything. Even if it seems little, menial or unimportant. I tell her when something she’s said doesn’t sit right with me. She tells me if I get over plan-y (as I am often). Little things, yes, but we talk about it before it becomes something big. We tell each other we love each other all the time. We set aside talking time. We have date night. We never ever go to bed angry, or at the very least without discussing it.

And that is why, even though our relationship is not perfect, even though each of us has a plethora of flaws and issues and nit-picking, we are able to maintain this wonderful relationship with one another, without driving each other crazy.

People ask what’s wrong with people today, why relationships don’t last. My thoughts? Turn off the TV. Shut the computer. Put your cell phone on stun. Talk to your partner. Not just about their day, but about them. How are they feeling? Are they happy/sad/mad/upset/worried/frustrated/satisfied/etc? What else do they need? What else do they want? If you can’t communicate with your partner (and they with you, and you each with yourselves), how can any relationship work?

-Essin’ Em