Sexuality Happens

I just got back from Las Vegas on Sunday night, very late. I’d been gone for five very long days.

When I got home, Q had left that morning. Because she’s awesome, she’s facilitating this amazing social justice leadership retreat up in Prescott all week, and won’t be back until Saturday night. The apartment felt so empty without her, the cats all crowding around me for attention that they hadn’t gotten all day, demanding pets and love. All I wanted was to curl up in bed with her arms around me, having been apart almost a week already.

I travel a fair amount, but with my disability and relationship, I try to keep it down to less than a week a month. When it’s longer, I try to come home in the middle for at least a night so that we can regroup and reconnect. This almost two week period is the longest amount of time that we haven’t slept together in almost a year and a half, and shockingly to me, it’s harder than I thought. I was such an independent person for so long, rarely spending the night or letting others spend the night, that it seems odd to me that just a few days apart from my partner makes me feel weird and lonely. But if I’m honest with myself, which I try to be, it does. It bothers me. I feel lonely in bed without her pressed up against me, or her heavy breathing in my ear.

I never expected to be in a mostly monogamous, long term relationship. When I pictured my future, it was never a part of it. Now, I’m incredibly happy to be in one now, with such an amazing person, but it certainly goes to show how much you never know, and how different the future may be than what you expect it to be.

7 Days down and 4.5 more to go until I have someone to hug and cuddle with, someone else to cook for, someone to laugh at my jokes and swat my butt while I’m cooking. I never thought I would miss that, because I never had it to begin with…but now that Q is such a huge part of my life, the space that is there when she is gone is so much more noticable than I ever would have thought.

-Essin’ Em

I remember, not many years ago, when I said I’d never ever move for a partner.  I wouldn’t move cities/states to be with them, I wouldn’t move with them if their job required it, and heck, I wasn’t even sure if I wanted to move IN with someone. I was (and still am) fiercely independent, and I wasn’t really sure if I was ready to merge any part of my life with anyone else.

I had a dream the other night about my ex before Q…the ex named F. No idea why I was dreaming about her, but it wasn’t a good one. She was rude, and mean and aggressive, and she had a list of things I supposedly owed her for — for part of Athena’s medical care before she died, for rent (even though we never lived together), for a car etc. Now, she didn’t give me or lend me a cent while we were together. I lent her money, I bought things for her, I let her essentially live with me after her house was broken into, and I drove her around for weeks when her car was impounded. I put a lot of emotion on the line for her, but also a lot of fiscal and “helping your life work” energy out there…yet here I was, dreaming that we had in fact merged our lives, and post break-up, she was trying to drain all of it out of me.

See, even now, almost 2 years in with Q, I still have anxiety (albeit about my ex) about living together, about changing my life to be with someone else. But despite that, I’ve changed a lot as well.

We’re moving back to Colorado in the spring, that any powers that may be. However, Q found the perfect most amazing job for her…in New York. She doesn’t think she’s quite qualified enough, and given the industry, she’s probably not even going to get a phone interview. But you know what, I told her to go for it. Apply. Just do it.

Living with Q…well, more specifically, being in a relationship with her, has made me a more relaxed, less stressed and OCD person. I’m willing to embrace change more, I’m more ok with going with the flow, and not only did I move in with her, but I moved my life to hell Arizona for her work. And you know what? Not only have I survived all of this, and am still a fiercely indepenedent person, but I have grown, and become a better person over all. Despite my hate of living with others, I love living with Q. Despite my distain for moving for a partner’s job, I found an AMAZING job here in Arizona, that I will keep when we move back to Colorado. And, I have found a partner who respects me, my quirks and kinks, my weirdness, my disability, my odd habits, and is 100% willing to let me be me…regardless of what that looks like.

Change is scary.

Change is constant.

Change is good.

I love myself and my growth, and all that my relationship with Q has had to do with all of that. Here’s to change!

-Essin’ Em

Looking at my history, pre F and pre Q, I’ve realized that for the most part, I don’t have one night stands very often; I have two-night stands. And you know what? I find that I like the two night stands much better than one nighters.

Why?

When you have a one night stand, you only get that night to figure out what your new (and very short term) partner would like, what they enjoy, how the two of you are sexually compatible. When you have a two night stand (two nights of sex fairly close together, although they don’t have to be back to back), you get to have a bit of a learning curve. The first night, you treat like a one night stand; you’ve just met, or perhaps you’ve known each other forever, but it’s your first time having sex. You get to learn a little bit about what this partner likes, what you like them to do to you, what each of your communication styles are, etc. Then, you return for a second night. This time, you know the basics. You know some of these things they like, and don’t like. You know what you can improve on from the last night you spent together. You get to communicate what YOU’D like more of, less off, harder, softer, in a different way.

Then it’s over, like a one night stand. Maybe you’re on vacation, or maybe it’s a two-night doozy with a long time friend that just wouldn’t work as a relationship, or maybe you’re not interested in a long term relationship. Whatever it is, you’ve gotten the thrill and excitement from the concept of having a one night stand, but it’s also likely that you have much better sexual interaction than if you’d just done it for one night.

I had a two night stand with the hot one I met at Dinah Shore…the one who helped me discover both my queerness and femme-ness. 48 hours of what was up until that point the best sex of my life.  We explored by body, I learned how to orgasm with a partner, I learned how much I liked queer sex (and that it was more than just oral and a finger rubbing a clit). By the second night, this person knew my body so well, and I was coming dozens and dozens of times, like I’d never come before. Their learning curve? Ridiculously short.

When I hooked up with C in Philly, the first night was a lot of communication, a lot of talking, and exploring each others’ bodies. While there was sex, it was almost secondary to the connections we were creating. Then, the second night, I fucked her for hours, my last night in Philly, plus lots of hot make out time. Second night, yet again, better than the first.

With K, we played twice before I left Philly; once at the Submit party in New York, and then one day where he had me wear nipple clamps to the art museum, and tried out canes and paddles on me in New Hope. It was fun and light hearted, and far less scary than the first time we played.

When M was in Denver the summer I moved back, we hooked up twice…once, it was everything but sexual activity. Making out and grinding and desire. The next night, hot sex and lots of orgasms, all night long. Two night stand? Definitely a winner.

Then there was L. While we went on a few dates, we only made out/had grope-age twice, and the second time, far more comfortable and easy and enjoyable than the first time.

So I am a fan, a proponent, a supporter of the two night stand, the double hook up, the back to back boogie. I’ve found that it worked incredibly well for me, and like my rules of my manifesto, the two night stand has definitely led to better sex.

-Essin’ Em

Oh, looky here. Another post on communication. Bet you’re sick of it now, right?

But it’s SO BLOODY IMPORTANT.

Q and I have gone through a lot these past few months.  My surgery (and the sleep apena that I had the surgery to fix). Moving to AZ. Starting her new job. Me looking for a job while battling depression at not having a job or friends.

The only reason we haven’t broken, that we haven’t fallen apart, and gotten filed with resentment, frustration, anger, hatred, etc is because of communication.

Every day is an exercise in communication, from sitting on the couch afterwork checking in with one another, to sitting in my car in the parking lot at Target last Friday night, with dual emotional break downs as we sat there crying and talking and asking one another how we would support one another. 

We got thrown in to this experience in AZ together.  Back in CO, we’d talked about moving in together, perhaps in January/February of 2010. We were going to have a plan about introducing the cats together. We were going to have a discussion about how to meld our very different cleaning/living styles, and do charts, and divide up chores, etc.  But when Q got the job here, we just picked up and left (3 weeks after my surgery) and moved in together, cats and all.

Without all the planning we had, well, planned on, is it any wonder that there have been some growing pains? She’s very tidy, I’m not. But I’m OCD about things like book/DVD titles, what clothes go in what drawers. Who does the cat litter, since we’ve had to had a 4th box and change brands multiple times? Who does the laundry? What about making dinner and cleaning it up? Do we eat at the dining room table, or sitting on the couch by the coffee table? When she works late multiple nights in a week, how do I combat feeling lonely? How does she take care of things when I travel alone?

All these and more have had to be discuss. Sometimes, in such a relaxed “hey, can we talk about this” way, and sometimes in a highly emotionally charged “I’m not feeling supported here – let me tell you why?” way. Is it sometimes draining to communicate so damn much? Yes.  But we don’t fight. Disagree sometimes, oh yes, but we don’t fight.

Like I tell people, dental dams aren’t always fun, but an STI in my mouth is less fun….communication isn’t always a picnic, but full scale fights and breaking up is much worse.

So take some time to actually talk to your partner(s) — don’t always let things go if it bothers you, because it will build up over time and bother you.  On that same note, it’s also really good to communicate happiness with your partner…it’s ok to just tell someone how wonderful they are an how much you appreciate them.

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

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?

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.

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

Below is what I had originally written to go up. But last minute, Q’s father sent me buddy passes to fly back to NY with Q (on stand-by. Let me tell you, my anixiety disorder did NOT like that part) for only $100. So off to New York I went.  And that’s where I am. Voila.

-EE

And I do mean happy holidays.  Regardless of your religion, or spiritual beliefs, or your hate/love of consumerism, I wish you happy holidays.

I am alone in Phoenix. Q is visiting her family in NY. Tickets were over $500, which I can’t afford (and think it’s kind of silly to spend that much money now, when we are planning to visit New York at the end of March for a lot less using Buddy Passes). I’d rather save the extra towards the new car I’m going to need to buy this spring before it gets hot, or towards paying off our massive debt. And I’m going to Denver without her in January (using my Frontier points, so it’s free) without her, so I understand the need to visit your roots. AND I’m not Christian, so it’s not like I’m alone on my holiday.

But I don’t know really anyone here. I have no one to eat Chinese food with and go see Sherlock Holmes with me on Christmas Day (you know, traditional Jew celebration). I don’t have other things to distract me.

So I’m going to make some of my own traditions. Perhaps cooking something special. Cuddling with the kitties while I watch bad shark movies and re-watch Season 1 of Dexter. Who knows? But I shall make my own holidays, and not be limited by Chinese food and movies in the theatres.

Happy Holidays, however your celebrate (or don’t) to one and all!

-Essin’ Em

It’s Thursday. Usually, I do a post for Half Nekkid Thursday. I did mine a day early this week, because this Thursday is Q and my one year anniversary.

I never would have dreamed that I would be with someone for a year. Or would live with them, or would want to be committed long term to them, or would find someone so wonderful, so amazing, so kind, so witty, so smart, so social justice oriented, so caring, so amusing, so…well…perfect.

No one is perfect. This I know. However, Q is perfect for me.  From the fact that we met at a strap-on class I was teaching to her making dinosaur noises to cheer me up to her love for our cats to her amazing grassroot community organizing skills, she is the perfect foil for me.  I met her when I was still broken to pieces over Athena’s death, and right when F broke up with me.  I have come so far in that year, and she is a big part of my growth, and even still being functional.

I cannot tell her enough how much and how deeply I love her. So handsome, so intelligent, so much fucking fun.

Happy anniversary baby – I’m glad you’re such an amazing and important part of my life. Even if I breathe dragon fire on you sometimes to BBQ you.

Love,

Me