I love my genitalia
The right person makes all the difference.
For years I have had no libido; which, given my age, can readily be considered abnormal. This led me to believe that the person I needed to end up with would need to be equally frigid so that nobody was upset or "lacking" something they very much needed. I have driven past partners into fits of frustration and doubt. Doubt about my attraction to them, doubt about my sexual orientation. All that time I thought it was me. I thought I was incapable of this "horny" feeling I had heard of so often. Oddly, though I never wanted to engage in genital intercourse, I still had a healthy sex life with my hands. Yet, even masturbation served not to relieve the feelings of unabatable lust, but was simply a therapeutic "release" of stress or tension and a good way to fall asleep.
I had a very hard time convincing past partners that I was indeed attracted to them, because as much I was wanted that to be true (given our decision to be together) it just was not.
(ten minutes have passed here as I contemplate not posting this ala what's-the-point, so I shall go smoke and ponder exactly that)
Cigarettes really are fantastic writing partners...
The point. Like everyone else I have acquired wounds throughout my coming into adulthood. They vary from quite deep to rather superficial; regardless of their intensity, they affect my perspective of a given relationship equally. Specifically, my wounds manifest themselves in jealousy, speculation, and a negative physical self image.
In all of my past relationships I have had no constructive outlet for dealing with these wounds and their impact on my current modus operandi as I have never felt okay expressing myself honestly for fear of being incriminated for my feelings alone. I suppose that is one of the reasons that I <3 Huckabees resonates so well within me. Fear and sadness are difficult enough without adding shame and guilt.
Pardon the jarring turn here. It all comes together, I swear.
Sex in past relationships... was casting for roles and fulfilling expectations each for their own sake. This is most likely why any libido I could potentially have had was sent into hiding. Not that expectations weren't met, or that roles were defied. On the contrary, the sexual roles assigned me by society and reinforced by myself and partners were played out as well as one could reasonably imagine, and praise or verification of satisfying results were all I ever heard. One person fucks, the other gets fucked. Everytime, no deviation. Do the one thing that works until both parties have climaxed and call it a success. After the "honeymoon phase" love making rarely or never occurred, and that is because love making had never been the real goal. The "butterflies" and such were merely nervousness and sexual tension. There was no ultimate goal... no real reason to be engaging in intercourse at all. I had sex because it's what people do, and so did my partners. Which left us with a lack of communication and real passion for exploration and understanding.
Understanding being the trump card of them all.
We turn again, sorry about your neck:
I have met someone that I can talk to. Talk about these things I normally have to keep inside of me. Conversations that would be painful if they stopped anytime before the point of mutual understanding. This also translates in the bedroom. I've met someone I can talk to with my body. A true connection. We communicate. Negotiate. And we don't stop the conversation before the point of understanding. The roles are not cast. The expectations are not of specific performances or behaviours, but of trust, respect, and mutual pleasure. Either person fucks or gets fucked with equal freedom and enjoyment, and the lovemaking never leaves the picture. All modes of sexuality are available at all times and can be expressed when either party so desires.
And this has led me to love my genitalia. What used to be a +/- or male/female part of my body is now simply one half of a whole. My libido is restored and, possibly even out of control. Look past the gushing to the idea behind it.
So, as I was smoking earlier pondering what it was that I was really trying to express here, I realized that I had said it outright at the top of this page. We all have our wounds. We all, generally, want to find someone. Take your red flags and hold them close: trust them. Don't waste valuable opportunities for intimacy with people you cannot communicate with. Even if it comes to issues that you believe(d) were your "cross to bear." if I may be allowed a religious metaphor, the right person truly makes all the difference.
I hope this does not read as sex-positivism. Watch your knees, please.
For years I have had no libido; which, given my age, can readily be considered abnormal. This led me to believe that the person I needed to end up with would need to be equally frigid so that nobody was upset or "lacking" something they very much needed. I have driven past partners into fits of frustration and doubt. Doubt about my attraction to them, doubt about my sexual orientation. All that time I thought it was me. I thought I was incapable of this "horny" feeling I had heard of so often. Oddly, though I never wanted to engage in genital intercourse, I still had a healthy sex life with my hands. Yet, even masturbation served not to relieve the feelings of unabatable lust, but was simply a therapeutic "release" of stress or tension and a good way to fall asleep.
I had a very hard time convincing past partners that I was indeed attracted to them, because as much I was wanted that to be true (given our decision to be together) it just was not.
(ten minutes have passed here as I contemplate not posting this ala what's-the-point, so I shall go smoke and ponder exactly that)
Cigarettes really are fantastic writing partners...
The point. Like everyone else I have acquired wounds throughout my coming into adulthood. They vary from quite deep to rather superficial; regardless of their intensity, they affect my perspective of a given relationship equally. Specifically, my wounds manifest themselves in jealousy, speculation, and a negative physical self image.
In all of my past relationships I have had no constructive outlet for dealing with these wounds and their impact on my current modus operandi as I have never felt okay expressing myself honestly for fear of being incriminated for my feelings alone. I suppose that is one of the reasons that I <3 Huckabees resonates so well within me. Fear and sadness are difficult enough without adding shame and guilt.
Pardon the jarring turn here. It all comes together, I swear.
Sex in past relationships... was casting for roles and fulfilling expectations each for their own sake. This is most likely why any libido I could potentially have had was sent into hiding. Not that expectations weren't met, or that roles were defied. On the contrary, the sexual roles assigned me by society and reinforced by myself and partners were played out as well as one could reasonably imagine, and praise or verification of satisfying results were all I ever heard. One person fucks, the other gets fucked. Everytime, no deviation. Do the one thing that works until both parties have climaxed and call it a success. After the "honeymoon phase" love making rarely or never occurred, and that is because love making had never been the real goal. The "butterflies" and such were merely nervousness and sexual tension. There was no ultimate goal... no real reason to be engaging in intercourse at all. I had sex because it's what people do, and so did my partners. Which left us with a lack of communication and real passion for exploration and understanding.
Understanding being the trump card of them all.
We turn again, sorry about your neck:
I have met someone that I can talk to. Talk about these things I normally have to keep inside of me. Conversations that would be painful if they stopped anytime before the point of mutual understanding. This also translates in the bedroom. I've met someone I can talk to with my body. A true connection. We communicate. Negotiate. And we don't stop the conversation before the point of understanding. The roles are not cast. The expectations are not of specific performances or behaviours, but of trust, respect, and mutual pleasure. Either person fucks or gets fucked with equal freedom and enjoyment, and the lovemaking never leaves the picture. All modes of sexuality are available at all times and can be expressed when either party so desires.
And this has led me to love my genitalia. What used to be a +/- or male/female part of my body is now simply one half of a whole. My libido is restored and, possibly even out of control. Look past the gushing to the idea behind it.
So, as I was smoking earlier pondering what it was that I was really trying to express here, I realized that I had said it outright at the top of this page. We all have our wounds. We all, generally, want to find someone. Take your red flags and hold them close: trust them. Don't waste valuable opportunities for intimacy with people you cannot communicate with. Even if it comes to issues that you believe(d) were your "cross to bear." if I may be allowed a religious metaphor, the right person truly makes all the difference.
I hope this does not read as sex-positivism. Watch your knees, please.