Sexuality Happens

One of the most hurtful things F told me when we were together was that I was “always in my head, and never in my heart.” She’d follow this with ending a conversation, having sex with someone else against the rules of our relationship, or a torrent of judgemental things about me. That was her way of telling me I wasn’t emotional enough, that I didn’t feel. In her mind, feeling was superior to thoughts and logic, and because I was a planner, and wanted to talk out our issues instead of fighting about them, or worse yet (to me), ignoring them, I wasn’t good at relationships, that I wasn’t emotional enough, that I had no feelings.

I know now that this is bullshit. It’s true, for a long time after my father died, I did hide my feelings. I wrote a few years back about how I couldn’t cry, how it was only through a totally irrevelant conversation with K that I was able to finally break down and cry. I was so scared that if I showed myself crying, I’d be seen as weak, or worse yet, that I wouldn’t be able to stop crying, that everything I’d built up in my life, all my independence and stability woudl come tumbling down with my tears, and that I’d be back at step one.

However, I was beyond that point when I met F. I was an emotional person. I felt. I hurt. She hurt me. I felt hurt by hurt. And because I also have anxiety and a little OCD, which makes me a little more logical at times, she told me that I had no emotions, that I didn’t feel, that I didn’t have a right to ask for my needs to be met in our relationship because I wasn’t worth it, wasn’t worth having a relationship.

Now, if you asked Q if she thought I was more in my heart or in my head, more emotional or more logical, I have no doubt the answer would be the former of each of those choices. True, we joke about me being tender and delicate, but at times, it is true. From losing my father to losing multiple close friends throughout my life (some through death, some through their choice), I have a lot of fear and hurt inside me. Sometimes, so much that I don’t even believe I’m worth it, that I don’t believe I deserve to have someone as wonderful as Q in my life. Every now and then, something triggers me, and I burst into tears, convinced that this is the point where Q figures out that I’m a fraud, that I’m nothing, that I’m not worth it.

As I think back on my relationship with F, and how much she did that lead to me questioning myself, to feeling as though I wasn’t able to be part of a long term relationship, to believing that I wasn’t enough for anyone, I realize that perhaps she was looking inside at herself and expressing the worries that she had about her onto me. Doesn’t mean I feel any less fucked up, but I can only hope she didn’t do it out of malice, and that she just never allowed herself to see my tender side, my emotional side.

And more important, I thank my lucky stars every damn day that I met someone like Q, who gets me, who not only thinks I’m worth it, and thinks I’m more than enough, but is working on helping me to believe it too. Someone who will lie in bed holding me until the tears dry up, who will tell me again and again that she wants to be with me, and who will make me laugh by creating shadow puppets to pull Kinsey’s tail. I’m worth it, and she knows it. And she knows that I’m just as emotional as I am a planner, and that one does not exclude the other. How lucky am I?

-Essin’ Em

So, Q and I like to play games. I know the kind you’re thinking, but we also really enjoy playing good ol’ board games like Scrabble, and fun more new fangled games like Apples to Apples. Ergo, when a certain sex toy website offered to let me review Dirty Minds, I jumped at the chance. I had some friends who used to love playing it back in college, but I’d never gotten the change to try it, and I was excited.

One chilling evening in Arizona (read: 45 degrees), Q and I cuddled up in bed, and decided that today was the day to play a fun sex-centric game. Now, note that this game is about dirty clues that lead to totally innocent words. It’s not a game to play in order to have sex, like Behind Closed Doors or Sex Casino, etc. Those games are usually very heteronormative, and not of much interest to us. However, Dirty Minds is a game that can be played by lovers, friends, family, you name it, and so out it game.

The game itself is silly for two people to play. The goal is to gain enough cards to spell D-I-R-T-Y (you start with two, and earn more depending on the quickness of your guesses/need for clues)…and in the two full on rounds we played, the game was over within three or four turns — not too much fun. However, then we took turns reading clues to each other, and guessing the word (without trying to collect the cards), and we had a lot more fun. It’s important to remember that you never have to follow the instructions of any board game; make it work best for you and your partner(s), however your imaginations may run.

Apparently, Q and I have equally dirty minds, as well as were able to figure out the non-dirty item from the clues pretty well. We actually wound up having a good deal of fun, and I can totally see busting this game out at another party we have. All in all, I was impressed. And happy to review something that wasn’t a vibrator – it’s nice to have a break as a sex toy reviewer as well. Upcoming reviews include another game, and a few books!

-Essin’ Em

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

It’s that time of year again, where I’m heading to Las Vegas for the AEE/ANE shows and the AVN awards (think “Oscars of Porn”).

This year, it’s a little tough. I’m heading to Vegas today through Sunday afternoon. Q heads up to this awesome social justice-y leadership program she’s helping to facilitate on Sunday morning…and will be gone for a full week. Then once Q gets back, we have a week together before I’m off to do classes and house hunting in Denver, and then I get back the day before Q heads to Minneapolis for Creating Change.  Usually I’m so good about planning my travel, and keeping it to less than a week per month, but these four weeks, both of us are travelling twice. I mean, I guess it is kind of good that we alternate, so that we don’t have to find a cat sitter…but on the other hand, that’s the most time apart that we’ve spent in a while, which is tough.

But here’s to Vegas, queer porn stars, sex educators, new sex toys, sex positive people, networking, seeing old friends, making new ones, and having a great time!

-Essin’ Em

I’m not particularly big on New Year’s Resolutions, given the likelihood that they’ll be broken some way, some how, in the very near future. I mean, really, how many people ‘fulfill’ their resolutions?

Q has decided to eat predominantly vegetarian/pescitarian. Which is awesome. Our house is pretty much vegetarian anyways (aside from the occasionaly sliced turkey for Q’s sandwiches), but this means it will be 100% veggie, and that we’re going to both be vegetarian, at least for a bit while Q tries this out. As someone who has been vegetarian for 19 years, it’ll be nice having a mostly veg partner. I’ve never ever been the preachy type — I’ve only ever dated one other vegetarian. I don’t judge, and I don’t tell people what they shouldn’t eat (especially as long as they don’t tell me what I SHOULD eat), but it’s nice having someone on the same page as me.

I’m thinking that next week, when I get back from the AEE/ANE/AVNs in Vegas, I’m going to try a raw diet for a week while Q is off teaching at a social justice leadership program. My old migraine meds (which I’ve finally titrated off of) helped me to gain 30+ pounds over the past year. Now that I’m off of them, I’m hoping a week of raw food might jumpstart my body into starting to lose some of those…and if not, at least it’s a very healthyl, vitamin filled week. Plus, we just bought a living social deal for 20 sessions of Hot Yoga each. I’m a little nervous, as I’ve dislocated my knees doing yoga before, but there are so few types of exercise I can do without massive pain that I’m figuring anything is worth a try right now.

My goals (NOT resolutions) for 2011:

*Book more lectures/workshops/classes at Colleges/Universities and Kink specific events (if you’re interested in having me, check out ShannaKatz.com for more info!)

*Finish at least one of the 4 books I’m currently working on and get it ready for publication

*Get more sex coaching/relationship counseling clients, both face to face and via skype.

*Move back to Colorado with Q and our kitties

*Help my mother get her house packed and ready for sale in 2012

*Have a fabulous queer celebration of love/wedding to the love of my life in October without going into any debt

*Make enough money to finally pay off medical 2008 and 2009 medical bills, so I can finally work towards paying my student loans

*Get an Njoy Eleven. No, seriously. It’s a goal. And heck, I really want a Spareparts La Palma harness too.

*Once back in CO, join a gym with both recumbant bikes and a pool so I can work on getting more cardio in. If I lose a little weight to where I was, I know my knees will feel better.

They are goals of sorts, but much more year-long and less number specific. I find that when I set goals like “lose 10 lbs by _____” or “make _____ money” or “get in touch with ________ friends,” I am less likely to follow through than when they are life changes.

Best of luck to everyone in the new year!

Essin’ Em

Q and I have been watching a lot of both “16 and Pregnant” as well as “Teen Mom” on MTV. It began at her mother’s house with “we want to watch something and it’s late…what’s on?” but has morphed into “if we were this couples social workers, what advice would we give? How could this person make better choices? How could their family and friends be more supportive? And so on. Especially given that now some episodes have featured the teens using adoption and abortion as options, in addition to parenting.

The other day, when we were driving home from our trip, I was tired, and said something in conversation about how I hoped we never accidentally got pregnant, because I’d be nauseous all the time, and in a lot of pain. Q looked at me like I was nuts, and it took me a second to realize why; it wasn’t that I wouldn’t accidentally get pregnant because I’m a sex educator and was lucky enough to get lots of info on safer sex…no, it was because Q doesn’t have sperm that could accidentally impregnate me.

I realized how lucky I am. While STIs are always a risk, and so Q and I get tested every year, and practiced barrier sex until we chose to be fluid bound, I never have to worry about pregnancy. I’m on hormonal birth control to keep my periods in check, but it isn’t at all for sexual or prevention reasons. We never have to worry about condom expiration dates, or whether I’m on antibiotics.

There are a lot of fights to fight being queer, and a lot of struggles and battles. About rights, about being recognized and validate, about family and friends and careers. About language. About gender. About this and that. But one struggle we’re lucky enough not to have is having to worry about the possibly of an accidental pregnancy, and making the choice between abortion, adoption and parenting.

We have talked about kids a lot, and another lucky for me, we’re on the same page. Neither of us wants kids. We could see perhaps fostering in 20+ years, but we have high maintenance cats and both work jobs with crazy hours and not outstanding pay. We don’t have the time, money or energy for kids, and nor do either of us feel the need to populate the planet anymore…and both of us are VERY against carrying a child, so it would be adoption, regardless. I feel lucky that this will always be our decision, that I will never have to worry about having to make that choice, nor will I have to worry about my fertility, looking into IVF, etc. Every cat shelter is always full of perfect kitties waiting for adoption, and right now, we have the best three in the whole world. My family is complete, for now, and I’m so happy and lucky that I’m able to say that.

It just seemed right to wish every one a Merry Christmas today, since I’ve wished people Happy Holidays, Happy Channukah, Happy Solctice, etc all month. I mean, perhaps I should go the British route, and say Happy Christmas as well, just to keep all the ducks in a row.

Anyways, Q and I are off for a 6 hours drive each way to a little resort in Nevada that is having a special. We haven’t really created a Christmas tradition yet (I’m of the “eat Chinese food and watch a newly released movie” sect), so I’m excited to see where this adventure takes us.

Happy Christmas and Happy Holidays from us and the kitties and our Holiday Shrubbery,

-Essin’ Em

I’ve never wanted children. Never. I never thought about how I’d dress them, how many I wanted, who I wanted to have them with, whether I’d give birth or adopt, where they should go to college. Never. Now, I did pick up names I really liked, and said “oh, I’d totally name my child this one day” and then quickly went on to name a cat Ava, a beta fish Trisana, a Russian Dwarf Hamster Niamara, a hedgehog Ambrose, etc. Pets and stuffed animals fulfilled my need to name things unique and creative names with easy nicknames.

However, as much as I’ve always know I didn’t want kids, I’ve known I wanted cats. There was 9 months in my life with no cats, between our house burning down in May of 1999 (killing our two kitties), and moving in to the rebuilt house and adopting Phoenix and then Anastasia in spring of 2000. Even when I lived in Germany, my host family had two cats. As soon as I got my own apartment my senior year of undergrad, I adopted Kinsey. Cats to me are my children. I treat my kitties as members of the family, and when they depart, like Athena dying December 2008, my heart breaks for them (and I sat Shiva).

My cats are a part of my family, and when I was freely dating, they were a good measuring tool. If someone didn’t like cats, they were out. Now, if they were ambivelent, all they had to do was meet Kinsey, and usually their mind changed. If they met my cat or cats (depending on when), and the cats didn’t like them? Done. My cats like most people, and so I took them not liking someone as a sign of things to come. It only happened twice, but I found out later on that it was a very good sign to stay away.

And then I met Q. Q had a cat already (Jasper), and was more co-dependent with him than I was with Kinsey. Moreover, when I adopted Kali and had the whole traumatic experience of her in the ER for 3 days, Q let me call, text and rant, even though we were all of just a few months (if that) into dating. Q didn’t mind that the cats were allowed everywhere except the counter and the kitchen table, and embraced both cat hair and Kaili claiming Q as her own. When Q would go back to New York to visit, I’d come take care of Jasper, staying over to watch a movie with him, or reading out loud. When I was gone, Q would text me pictures of Kinsey and Kali missing me.

This sounds silly, yes, but I realized that the perfect kitty parent was a non-negotiable for me. And the other night, as I watched Q carefully scoop a certain amount of dry food into a dish, and then add the right amount of wet food, with a little extra water, and mash it all around to make it as appetizing to them as possible (they’re on a new UTI prevention diet), and then soak a cranberry pill, and gently give it to Jasper and stroke his throat until he swallowed…I realized that Q fit the mold. Q was the perfect kitty daddy (we like to play with gender, obviously) to me, the kitty mommy. Between the two of us, the cats always have someone to lie on, someone to pet them, someone to dangle a toy in front of them. We sit together, making up stories about what each cat is saying when they meow, about how they feel about leopard print, about Kali’s royal throne, about Jasper’s queen-y walk, about Kinsey’s rubber and latex fetish. We curl up in our bed, two of us and three very spoiled cats, and it just feels right.

Q is my kitty daddy, and is a better fit for me and our family of fur kids than I ever could have imagined.

-Essin’ Em

Last week, I went with Q to visit her family in New York.

I’m nervous around her family. Why? Because I want them to like me so much. I want to fit in. I want to be the perfect daughter in law. I want everything to be so perfect, so right…

Because my family is so dysfunctional. My mother and sister apparently had a conversation about how my mother didn’t want to call me or email me to wish me happy birthday on my birthday. And then my aunt called this week, trying to convince me to convince my mother to sell her house and get baratric surgery, and yada yada…although she neglected to tell me that her partner was having another round of surgery for her breast cancer. Yeah. That’s how my family works. There are only a few of us (5? 6?) left in the US, but we’re all crazy. And so I wanted so bad to fit in with Q’s family.

They were so warm and welcoming. They had holiday gifts for me and even threw a little birthday/holiday dinner. Her mother made these AMAZING stuffed mushrooms and artichokes (I’d never had stuffed mushrooms before — they are so freaking tasty), and her Nana took us to lunch one day, and her aunts were so sweet. It was like having the holiday experiences that I’d always wanted to have, and that my family never had.

Family is what you make of it. You are born into a family, and while they are always your family in some ways, your family is chosen. My friends are my chosen family and Q and my kitties are my family, and now, hopefully, I’ll be gaining another type of family.

-Essin’ Em

Today marks the 2nd full year that Q and I have been together (it also is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers — I can’t think of anything more appropriate for two sex-positive and social justice oriented people).

For a long time, I thought I was going to be alone forever. I viewed myself as unloveable, as broken, as not worthy of love. I didn’t think anyone would find me “worth” dealing with, putting up with my insecurities, my disabilities, my career, my snarkiness, my messiness, my anthropormorphisizing of my cats.

And then, I met Q. At a strap on class that I was teaching even. Well, this way I knew that for the most part, sex ed wasn’t going to be an issue. Q is incredibly caring about social justice, about equality (or the lack there of), actually cares about politics and truly works towards creating change in this world. On top of that, Q is witty, hilarious, fun to be around, incredibly smart, and laughs at my ridiculous jokes…and Q is more co-dependent with Jasper (the Maine Coon) than I have ever been with my cats. Although I don’t believe in the concepts of perfect matches (because you have to work on making them work), I can’t imagine finding anyone more perfect for me than Q. I wonder sometimes if I even deserve such happiness. Q says I do.

There are few things more wonderful than waking up in the middle of the night from a bad dream, and having loving arms around you, or getting a “hello beautiful” text message in the morning, or an “I love you” sign on the holiday shrubbery, and knowing that the love is actually meant, and isn’t just some trite or cliche message. Few things more reassuring than your partner bringing you ice packs and pain killers when you can’t walk, or calling to see how your neurologist appointment went.

I am not perfect. I am a hard pill to swallow at times. It is hard to love me, and sometimes harder to be with me. I know all of this. And yet, I am lucky enough to have found someone as wonderful and driven and loving as Q, who takes me how I am.

Next October, we’re having our “Queer Celebration of Love” — AKA, the wedding. I’ll have to write about my views on marriage at some point, but the wedding is our celebration for our friends and family, a showing off of our love, a rejoycing in our connection.

Sadly, Q is still in New York for today’s anniversary, but Q’s family is important, and I understand that. Instead, this Saturday I’m making a special dinner for us, and for Christmas, we’re driving to a relaxing resort outside of Vegas to take advantage of their special pricing, and cooked food, and will celebrate there. I love being together, experiencing things together, trying new things together.

So happy anniversary stud muffin. I can’t imagine being happier with anyone else ever, anywhere, any time. Thank you for letting me love you and trust you,

Babycakes.