Sexuality Happens

Somehow, I am always grouped as a sex blogger…but as many of you have probably noticed, I honestly don’t blog about sex that much. I mean, yes, I do talk about toys sometimes, or how sex is or isn’t affecting my relationship…but I as of the last year or so, I haven’t written/published as much erotica, I haven’t shared very much of my sex life, haven’t posted any nude pictures. There are many many many reasons for each of these decisions, but regardless, these topics are no longer part of my posting.

So am I still a sex blogger? I mean, I’m writing about queer weddings and relationship drama and letters to people throughout my life. Is sex and sexuality a part of it? Oh yes. But I feel like I’ve become more a life style blogger, perhaps a relationships blogger, I don’t even know.

Ergo, my question to you; what defines a sex blogger? Is it sex toy reviews? Is it erotic stories of past times? Is it deep conversation into gender identify and presentation? How does one know if they are or aren’t part of this whole “sex blogger” community?

And with that said…where do I fit?

-Essin’ Em

A couple of weeks ago, Q and I got in our first “big” fight. With her being a social worker, and me having a background in counseling and communication, our fights usually consist of;

“I don’t like XYZ.”

“Don’t you think you’re projecting on me a little bit?”

“Maybe. But even so, I want more ABC in order to feel more fulfilled in this relationship!”

“Ok, what does more ABC look like to you?”

And then we talk a little more and our “fight” is over.

However, a few weeks back, we had a real fight. Over something relatively stupid, but on going, so it kind of built up into more of a blow out. We had a house guest at the time, so there wasn’t any yelling…but it was the first time Q got up in the middle of our intense conversation and left. Now, she was just going out of our bedroom into the living room to sleep on the couch…but that wasn’t what it seemed/felt like to me. I have a HUGE fear of abandonment; my dad died when I was 13, I’ve had friends from over a decade stop talking to me and pretend they don’t know me, and significant others who just peaced out. When someone walks out of the room, who has never done it before, in the middle of a big arguement, it feels to me like they are walking out of my life.

I tried to remain calm. I sat in bed, waiting for her to come back and finish the conversation, like we always do. She didn’t come back. So I left the apartment to walk around the complex. She didn’t come after me. I couldn’t believe it — I had once told her that if I ever left out of hurt or anger, it was incredibly important that she come after me, because I needed that from her to show me she still loved me and cared enough to come after me. She didn’t.

Finally, I headed back to our place. I hung up my keys and coat, and told her to take the bed, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to get any sleep that night, so I’d take the couch where I could read/watch TV. I then asked her when she wanted me to move out by…because in my mind, her leaving our conversation, walking out of the bedroom, and not coming after me had morphed into her ending the relationship. I then prompty burst into tears…which turned into sobs, and ended up in her arms.

Eventually, I calmed down enough to have conversation with her. We both talked about things that had been bothering us and might have fueled that argument, even if they hadn’t been brought up. We made a better game plan. And eventually, we went to bed together, after midnight, said I love you to each other and went to sleep.

I KNOW fights happen. My best friend is married to a guy that she used to have pretty big fights with bi-monthly, calling me in tears. She seems happy now, and tells me that they have tiffs, but that it makes it a stronger relationship. I KNOW it’s supposed to be normal to have the occasional big fight.

However, we’ve been together almost two years, and it’s the first BIG/REAL fight that we’ve had…which made it seem like an anomaly to me, and scared the wits out of me. Luckily, because we love each other, because we pretty much get each others’ communication styles, and because we both care about making this work, we made it through. And while hopefully the next “big” or “real” fight is months or preferably years off, I’ll be a little less startled and feel a little less abandoned by the next one.

-Essin’ Em

Sometimes, expectations can be a very very good thing. However, for the most part, they tend to be evil.

Why? Because usually, we keep our expectations to ourselves. We don’t share them. And by doing so, we often set ourselves up for disappointment, because we expect (there is that evil word again) our friends/family/lovers/partners to read our minds, and meet our expectations, even though they often don’t know what they are.

I wrote a few weeks back about how I was let down during my last trip to the ER. It was the first time Q had ever come with me to the ER, and only the second time she’d ever come with me on any medical visit, the first being only a week prior. Now, I’ve spent a lot of time in medical settings, and have been in the ER far too many times. Ergo, when there was no nurse button, and I was left alone in a room with no pillows/sheets/etc for a swollen leg/to prop up my head, and with no nurse call button, or way to ask for help, I sent Q on a mission to a) find a nurse, b) check on where I was in the triage schedule and c) get me a pillow. The first three trips, she came back having accomplished none of this. The nurses were talking to each other, or she didn’t see anyone in the hall. I was incredibly frustrated, because I needed an advocate at that point in time (not being able to walk anywhere myself), and I had very specific expectations of what an advocate to me looked like. However, I pretty much gave her my expectations at the exact same time as I even asked her to be an advocate, and in a stressful setting none the less. Is it not wonder that her actions didn’t meet my hastily requested invitations?

So I’ve been trying to be clearer about my wants and needs, and even expectations. And moreover, I’ve been trying to have less expectations. When I came back from Florida, Q had gone to Sedona with her sister, and brought me back this BEAUTIFUL black and white flower vase. Totally unexpected, as I don’t ever expect physical presents from Q (I’m a pack rat, she’s a minimalist). I dropped my expectations, and was pleasantly surprised. What a reward!

But then, I made expectations again. I purposely chose to fly back from SF to Phoenix this afternoon, so I could spend a nice evening with her before flying back out to NYC tomorrow. Between my travel and her often 60+ hour work weeks, we haven’t really gotten to see much of each other in a while, and so this was important to me. I forwarded her my flight info, my travel dates, reminded her that this was when I’d be home, etc.

By doing all of this, I had expectations that I’d be able to spend time with her this one evening that I was back. However, I didn’t communicate that clearly. I thought she’d pick up on my hints, but I never specifically said “hey, so we’re both getting to hang out together on the night of the 29th, right?” Well, not until the day before I left.

I had hoped she would take the afternoon off, so I could get a ride from the airport home, and get to spend time with her. Apparently, she had two presentations that afternoon, so that was nixed. Fine, that had been a hope, but not an expectation. Then Saturday night, as I chatted with her on the phone, I found out she also had stuff at 5pm-7:30pm, and 8pm-11pm. As my flight was leaving at 7am the next morning, I wasn’t going to be able to stay up past 10ish, meaning that all my deliberate planning and extra wear and tear on my body was for naught; I’m not really going to get to see her before I leave again.

I was hurt when I found this out. Not angry, just hurt and frustrated. But honestly, that’s partially my fault. I needed to communicate better my reasoning for coming home, as well as the expectations I had of Q instead of just making assumptions.

And I guess it will just make next Monday night all the more sweet.

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters  endeavor. Today, I’m writing to someone I don’t get to talk to as much as I wish I did (it’s Day 10). Of course, I write this to my friend Annabelle. She’s one of my two best friends, and I miss her terribly. She moved to Seattle, WA after undergrad. I usually get to visit her there about once a year, and between our schedules, locations, and respective lives, we only talk maybe once or twice a month now.

Dear Annabelle -

I miss you. SO. FREAKING. MUCH. You helped me survive college. Whether it was helping me to figure out who I really was, or discussing how much I dislike wearing socks and sneakers, or making Kinsey do the cat “dance dance dance” or finding places to have a nice cuppa tea, or keeping me from going crazy when I was directing shows, you were my life force through that time. Not only that, but even when we were on opposite coasts as I attempted to survive graduate school, you always had interesting advice, and a way to cheer me up. Through out the past eight years, your smiles, tidbits, teas and care packages have helped me to keep my sanity.

I love that whenever we are in the same place, or finally are able to play phone tag long enough, that it seems like we begin where we left off, as if there weren’t heaps and ooodles of time between. I wish you lived near by, so that we could meet regularly for tea dates, and revolver belt sushi and book talk and cupcakes. You are one of the absolutely most wonderful people I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting, and I am honored to call you my friend, and to promote your first published novel. I am so ridiculously, incredibly proud of you.

For my part in the lack of chat, I apologize. My life has been a bit crazy as of late, but that is no excuse. I hereby state to you that starting now, I will do my best to do better…to call more, to email more, to facebook more, to snail mail more. You are far too precious to me to not get to be in contact with you more often.

You’re amazing. A rock star, one might say. I am so honored to be your friend, and I miss you like the buggering bloody dickens!

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters endevor. This is supposed to be a letter to your dreams.  I didn’t know if they meant like dreams you have at night (which I have been having some freaking crazy ones as of late), or dreams like your hopes and goals. I decided to go with the latter.

Dear Dreams…

It’s so interesting how you’ve changed over time. When I was five, I wanted nothing more in the world to be an archaeologist, like Indiana Jones. Then, it was a vet. When I got to high school, I decided I wanted to be a counselor for gifted children, and went into college expecting to do so. Somewhere in there, I discovered sex ed, and dreamed of working for Planned Parenthood, which brought me to grad school. From there, I fell into the world Feminist Porn and Porn for Women, and then into the world of sex toys. I wanted to be a feminist pornographer/sex toy shop owner with a studio/dungeon in the basement.

And now? I’m not sure. I am a sex educator, I am a feminist pornographer, I am a blogger, I am a writer, I am a reviewer, I am a marketer. I’m not sure what direction the tide will take me next; things are always changing in life, and it seems even more so in the sexuality field.

I had dreams of living in Europe…not likely with my three cats and partner now (although a long term visit may be in order). I had dreams of owning a house, which I almost did back in Philly. Now $15,000 of medical debt is going to push that one to the back burner for a while.

I have dreams of being able to easily walk up stairs, and maybe go for a jog. A realistic dream in the long run perhaps, but very expensive and time consuming and difficult to find a doctor who will do knee replacements on someone this young. This dream seems like a more long term one.

So for now, as I look at it, my dreams are:

*Getting out of the epic amount of debt Q and I share

*Moving back to Colorado by May 2011

*Celebrating our love with a wedding in October 2011

*Speaking at more colleges and universities (long term – be as cool as Tristan and Ducky and Nina Hartley and Midori and Megan Andelloux and the rest of the heavy hitters of sex ed)

*Traveling with Q to Europe – she’s never been, and I miss it badly

*Eventually owning our own home (10 years?)

*In the next 10 years, owning a Hybrid

*Add more states to my “I’ve been there!” list

*Try more cupcakeries and vegetarian restuarants across the US

*Figure out what to do about further education. I always thought that I’d want a PhD, need a PhD, have no other plan than to finally get my doctorate. Now I’m not sure.

*Meet many more amazing people, both online and in real life

*Live an outstanding, crazy and fulfilling life with Q and our kitties

*Enact change and fight for social justice and equality.

Dreams, I will try my best to reach for you, and honor you, but I don’t want to be so specific anymore. I want more of a concept and less of the exact science. I want to dream big, and aim in many directions. Thank you dreams, for being there, for changing with me, for helping me grown.

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters endevor. This is supposed to be a letter to your sibling, or nearest relative. Ergo, I write it to my 20 year old sister.

Dear Sister -

We have not always had the best relationship. In fact, even right now, we don’t have what I would call “the best” relationship. However, we have been working on that, and I’m excited to see how things change.

It’s been hard. You were nine when dad died, and ever since then, I’ve felt it was you and mom against me. I never seemed to have the right answers, I never seemed to do the right activities, wear the right clothes, like the right stuff. You two were peas in a pod, and I felt alone. By choosing to be a lawyer (or at least go that direction), you’ve made the family very happy and gotten them off my back a little. Still, it’s hard being constantly compared to you, your choices, and your successes.

I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but as of the last couple of months, our phone converations have ended with “I love you.” That hasn’t happened before. I don’t end my talks with mom that way, even though I do with Q, and all my friends. While it has been a very deliberate effort on my part, and perhaps yours as well, it means a lot to me that we are changing our interaction.

We are so different. In looks, in likes, in wants, in needs. It’s hard to connect with you sometimes, because I feel so far away, so out of the loop. I’ve never dated an Air Force Cadet. I wasn’t in a sorority. I never wanted to go to law school. For a while, it seemed like the only thing we could talk about saw sex, and then you’d flip about when I said something you didn’t understand. I myself was nervous talking to you about your first time…shocking, yes, but it’s hard to talk about your sister having sex to your sister…it just is.

So thank you for trying. Please know I’m trying to. It’s hard, being far away, and it’s hard, given all the hurtful feelings that I’ve felt from you and mother in the past, but we will make it work. We’ve already made some very positive changes.

I look forward to more changes, to getting to say I love you more, to having you help plan the wedding, to eventually living in the same state again, and to growing, hopefully, closer. I don’t think we’ll ever be to peas in a pod, but two different veggies sharing the same salad bowl is good enough for me.

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters endevor. As my father has been dead more than a decade, and fulfills other days, I’m going to write this to my mother.

Mother -

We have what many would see as a tumultuous relationship. There really are three parts of you that I get. There is the awesome part, that sends me news articles about gay marriage in other countries, that makes fun of John McCain, that sends Q and I fans for our cars out of the blue.

Then there is the side that has hurt me so much emotionally over the years; the side that convinced me that my family would never approve of/support me in what I do, that my relationships would never be welcome, that I would be ground in HS if I got a B. This is the side that plays BLATANT favoritism with my sister, to the point that people have pointed it out and asked me what I did to piss you off. This is the side that has caused countless tears, nights without sleep, thoughts of becoming a runaway, of emancipating myself in college, of disowning the family. You’ve gotten better in the past bit, but it’s still hard not to think of the acts you did that made me hate myself and regret living. Telling someone they tried to kill themselves because they wanted attention, or because they had a vegetarian diet? That’s just low.

And now, as you grow older into your 60s, there is the side that worries me. This is the part of you that tells me the same thing three times in one phone conversation, that has you confusing me with my sister, that has you tripping in the backyard, falling and hurting your knees. You live alone in a 3-story house, and I know you can’t even get down to the basement to deal with the cat litter (there is vomit and shit all over the floor). I keep trying to encourage you to sell and down size, offering to help you go through the stuff, and to move, but you reject it. I’ve offered to get my handy man friend to come over and put up towel racks that have fallen down for years, or lights that have been out for months. I get no response. It’s very hard to take care of someone who is slowly falling apart when they won’t accept your help. And it’s very hard to offer you help when I’ve been in dire situations, and gotten none from you.

I don’t hate you. I used to think I did, but I’ve realized that I don’t. However, it’s also incredibly hard to love you. I feel like I love you because I have to, not because there has been a growth of love between us. I hope this changes in the next few years, I do. I don’t want to feel this way. I can see that you’re trying; offering to pay for the cupcakes in our wedding is a HUGE step, especially since you don’t support the fact that we’re getting wedded. I appreciate that, and I give you my word that I will try to. Just know that this is all going to take time, and I don’t quite know how much of that we have, given the average life length in our family. But I will try.

I love you, in my own way,

-Essin’ Em

Part of this post is part of my 30 Days of Letters blog endeavor. This would be Day 2, a letter to my partner/crush. However, it also just so happens to be Q’s 25th birthday, and so I’m combining it.

First of all, today is Q’s 25th birthday (she likes the TMNT a lot, hence the graphic). If you feel so inclined, leave a comment here, or head over to Q’s Twitter with your birthday wishes. Happy birthday baby! No more young driver costs on rental cars — w00t!

And now, my letter.

Dear Q/baby/stud muffin/etc,

I love you, period. I love you more and more every day. I never knew I could love a person so much, and in so many different ways, and more and more and more. I am so happy every single day of my life to have you in it.

Thank you for putting up with me. With my crankiness in the mornings, with my epic fear of bugs (although I did kill that one — I really do hope you’re proud of me, as it was one of the scariest moments of my life), with my messy house style, with my animal print obsession, with our cats and how they get along, with my late nights and travel, with my sex toys scattered around the house, with my pain issues and migraine issues and knee issues, with me being emotionally needy at times. Thank you for working on your communication skills, and for never leaving or going to bed angry (frustrated, perhaps, but never angry).

You do so many amazing things, and I am so incredibly proud of you. The work you’ve done on the campus making it a safer and more inclusive place for LGBTQ students, staff and faculty is just unbelievable, especially given not having a budget, having four campuses, 70,000 students, and the pay check of someone barely out of undergrad. You put your mind to something, and it will be accomplished; that is how dedicated (and at times, stubborn) you are. I just wish your job appreciated you more — you completely deserve it.

I know we have rough patches…whether it’s having to learn to live my my trips to doctors, hospital and ERs, or me learning to live with your sometimes wacky school schedule, we make it work. As gross as it seems, I just can’t even imagine my life without you at this point, so please don’t ever make me have to.

I’m always a little scared. Despite what might seem to be a tough and self-confident exterior, I’m always questioning. Am I pretty enough, am I smart enough, am I dedicated enough, am I good enough. When my knees came to the forefront of our lives, I questioned whether you’d think it was too much, whether you’d give up and leave me because it’s a lot of work, and emotion and scary as fuck to deal with all this. I know it’s hard, and so I will always question how someone can love me enough to deal with it. This has nothing to do with how much I love or trust you; it has to deal with me, and how I view myself. Please don’t let this push you away.

You’re smart, funny, witty, vibrant, silly, deep, introspective, hot, studly, and just over all the best partner (and cat co-parent) that I could ever imagine. Even better, in fact.

<3,

-Essin’ Em

This is part of my 30 Days of Letters blog endeavor. This is day 1, to my best friend. It’s hard, because I have two very very close friends, but I’m going to choose my friend E for this activity.

Dear E-

I’m so glad that more than a decade ago, I chose you out of the random pile of applicants to be my assistant as the head of customing for Charlie’s Aunt. I don’t know what my life would even be like if I hadn’t met you.

Most people meet us, and don’t get how we can be friends. You’ve always loved pinks and purples and flowers and sweet, and I’ve been for the red, black, animal prints and sassiness. Yet despite some of our decorative differences, we have been just the best of friends. From deep talks on feminism and sociology over the phone, to rocking out at various concerts, to our hours-long lunch dates when I was unemployed, you’ve always made me a priority in your life, and I appreciate that so much. I love that if I haven’t heard from you in a week, there is suddenly a call or a text from you, reminding me that we both play an important role in each others’ lives.

I’m having a hard time with you being married now. Not because it’s any different; you two have been together years, and have been living together. It’s more that it’s just a hard situation to get out of, and I’m not 100% sold on your love. Sometimes, he can be the sweetest guy in the world, and I can tell how much he loves you…but sometimes, he’s just a jerk (even his sister agrees). I feel this will always be a slight feeling of awkwardness between us, but maybe I’ll grow to like him. I mean, you did…you had to change your mind after blocking him on AIM.

I love that you challenge me. I love that you make me think about who I am, and my beliefs, and how I communicate these to people around me. I love how much you support me when I’m down, in pain, unemployed, in loss (Athena), breaking up, and more. You are really one of the few people that is there for me, irregardless, throughout my life, and I hope you know that I recognize that.  When I moved to PA, you still were my best friend. Same with my current life in AZ. I can’t say that about everyone; I have a lot of friends whose strength of friendship is based on location…you are certainly not one of those.

Thank you, my dear, for being such a strong support and driving influence in my life. I appreciate you every single day, and I can’t wait to move back to Colorado to spend more time with you (and learn to like your husband). Oh so much love!

-Essin’ Em

I’ve now seen this on both Britni’s blog and They Belong to Us, and I’ve chosen to participate in honor of a new month and such. Basically, the gist is that you write a letter a day for 30 days. It’s part self-awareness/reflection, part writing prompt, part free therapy. Now, don’t worry, I’m not going to subject you to 30 days full o’ letters; your regularly scheduled toy reviews, thoughts, rants, and eye candy will still be available. These will just pepper in throughout the weeks/months. If you too decide to join in, please comment and let me know. Day 1 will start sometime this week.

-Essin’ Em

Day 1 — Your Best Friend

Day 2 — Your Crush/ Partner(s)

Day 3 — Your parents

Day 4 — Your sibling (or closest relative)

Day 5 — Your dreams

Day 6 — A stranger

Day 7 — Your Ex-partner/love/crush

Day 8 — Your favorite internet friend

Day 9 — Someone you wish you could meet

Day 10 — Someone you don’t talk to as much as you’d like to

Day 11 — A Deceased person you wish you could talk to

Day 12 — The person you hate most/caused you a lot of pain

Day 13 — Someone you wish could forgive you

Day 14 — Someone you’ve drifted away from

Day 15 — The person you miss the most

Day 16 — Someone that’s not in your state/country

Day 17 — Someone from your childhood

Day 18 — The person that you wish you could be

Day 19 — Someone that pesters your mind—good or bad

Day 20 — The one that broke your heart the hardest

Day 21 — Someone you judged by their first impression

Day 22 — Someone you want to give a second chance to

Day 23 — The last person you kissed

Day 24 — The person that gave you your favorite memory

Day 25 — The person you know that is going through the worst of times

Day 26 — The last person you made a pinky promise to

Day 27 — The friendliest person you knew for only one day

Day 28 — Someone that changed your life

Day 29 — The person that you want tell everything to, but too afraid to

Day 30 — Your reflection in the mirror