“Hi Brad, I’ve just come to tell you how fabulous I am!”

(Title quote from the movie “Shock Treatment”)

So. This is going to be a weird post for me to write. It has to do with people wanting me. Which…is a difficult concept for me to wrap my head around much of the time. In my last post, I talked about being lonely and also talked (vaguely) about various issues I have connecting with other partners who are interested in me.

What I didn’t cover were the people who are interested in me that I…just don’t feel the same way about. I tend to forget when I’m on a pity party that there are about 3 or 4 people who want to play with me or be in some kind of more-than-friendship relationship with me…if only I felt the same way or circumstances were different.

This got brought home to me in a weird way today. See, there’s this guy that has been hitting on me on Fetlife. And my husband says he was just trolling me. And maybe he is. Maybe he really does want to get together and have sex with me, and was very interested in orgasm control. My husband says that if I shut him down, this guy would turn on me and be like all the other trolls out there. But I decided to handle it my own way. I told him that I wasn’t interested in sex right away and it takes me a while to build up to that. FetlifeGuy said that was fine, as long we could sext, he’d have no problem with waiting. And I love to sext. But I was just…underwhelmed by him. I’m realizing more and more lately that plain sex doesn’t do much for me, even with orgasm control thrown in. And that I don’t have to jump at “opportunities” that I don’t really want just because I’m afraid there will never be the kind I do want. So I never got back to him and pretty much never expected to hear from him again and was fine with that.

But then he messaged me again today…a month later. Granted, it wasn’t all that eloquent or elaborate. Simply a “Soo”. Like…that was the entirety of the message. But the fact that it happened, and my reaction to it, helped remind me of a few things.

  1. I immediately went, “Oh, seriously. This fucking guy again?” Or something like that. Which amused me because I clearly was not investing my self esteem in some random guy messaging me. And it was more of an irritation than anything.
  2. People do want me. I have to remember this when I’m in the throes of “woe is me”. And sometimes, I really wish I wanted them the same way they’ve expressed wanting me. It would make things so much easier. But I’ve never been able to do that. Sex is something very, very difficult for me to think about doing and that “on” switch doesn’t go on easily. Or very often, person-wise. But once it’s on…let’s just say I’m adventurous and eager. Other words you could use are “proud slut”. Whatevs.  But similarly to how I’ve never faked an orgasm, I can’t fake sexual attraction. And few people understand how I can flirt up a storm but have no desire to get jiggy with their jiggly bits. Sensual attraction is so different for me than sexual attraction. I feel sensually attracted to many people. But you start talking about how wet or hard you are or that you want me to touch you somewhere or me to touch you and I’m running for the nearest exit. In a different time and place, I’d be called a tease, but I think I’m fairly up front about the fact that I don’t want sex. You will know, explicitly, if I am sexually attracted to you. And since most of the people reading this are not the 2-3 people I’m currently sexually attracted to out of the whole world’s population, odds are, it’s not you.
  3. The kind of deep connection that I prefer and need takes time to build up. And sometimes along the way, the relationships I’m investing in and hoping to build won’t pan out. That happens. It’s likely currently happening for one relationship in my life. That’s okay. Saying no to what I don’t want will help me refine and get closer to what I do, and it will help to not clog up my time and energy in the process.
  4. Seriously, dude? You think “Soo” is a good way to pick a conversation back up? SMH

So I end this with a weird video montage going in my head. One is Janet from “Shock Treatment” stopping by to tell Brad how fabulous she is (for me, it’s an ironic reference, not in earnest to the original) and the other is a Rosie O’Donnell stand up from the 90’s, talking about how when someone says they’re interested in you and you aren’t interested in them, you should go home, turn on the Black and Decker vibrator and sing “I’m too sexy for my shirt…”

It’s just nice to have my brain go in positive direction. I’d like to encourage this and also record it for posterity.

“Funny what they give you when you just learn how to ask.”

Can’t you do it for me?
I’ll pay you well
Fuck, I’ll pay you anything
If you could end this

Can’t you just fix it for me?
It’s gone berserk
Fuck, I’ll give you anything
If you can make the damn thing work

“The Perfect Fit” by The Dresden Dolls

Sometimes, in long term relationships, sex kinda wanes. The frequency goes down, things get stale, life and bills and stress and work get in the way. This gets even more complicated when you’re dealing with polyamory. Since my husband and I are heading into our fourth year of marriage, this is something we’ve been dealing with for a bit now.

We’ve had fights about it, talked about it therapy, tried various methods to “rekindle the spark” and nothing has really stuck. Pair this with the fact that I’m kinky and either demisexual or selectively sexual, which means I don’t meet people I want to have sex with all that often, and on the other extreme of course my husband is someone who is the exact opposite of demisexual and not all that kinky. We’ve pretty much settled on words like “french vanilla” or “sporadically sadistic” to describe his interest and drive for kink. Technically, he doesn’t really have a drive for kink. He has a primary sex drive, whereas I have a primary kink drive. If sex can be added, that’s cool and all, but it’s not the most important thing for me when meeting new partners. In fact, it’s generally not a thing for me at all when meeting new partners.

This is a difficult pairing to maintain long term. He’s way more flirty than me, though I do enjoy flirting a lot. He can conceive of casual sex, whereas I really have to have some kind of emotional connection to someone to make that happen.

This has manifested in many situations where he is flirting with someone, or pursuing a relationship with someone, or making out with someone and I’m…not. I ended my last D/s relationship, which had threaded it’s way throughout my life for something like a decade or so, about two years ago because of work and personal complications that I simply couldn’t manage. To say that was hard is putting it exceptionally mildly. Thankfully, I still have that person in my life. And up until earlier this year, I haven’t had much of anything going on in my life by the way of partners.

Unfortunately, there are a few issues with any of the people I’m interested in currently besides my husband. Mostly that they’re all on the East coast and I’m not. Well, yet. We’re going to be moving soon, so that’s cool. But overall, I’ve been feeling very lonely for various reasons.

And here’s where my logic goes:

If my husband doesn’t make advances towards me, it means he doesn’t want me anymore. When I see him get excited about and actively making plans to see and have sex with his girlfriend when we were in town last month, but never musters that same excitement nor makes any plans to do that with me, it hurts. It feels like I’ve lost and I shouldn’t bother. And it doesn’t help when I try making advances on him and he says he’s not in the mood.

He tries telling me that he does still want me, but that his sex drive waxes and wanes, and he also doesn’t have a lot of skill points built up for long term relationship maintenance. He loves NRE and the rush of new feelings, letting them carry him along.

Whereas my last long term relationship was 10 – 13 years long. Up until the last 6 months – 2 years, the sex was pretty regular and fairly awesome. Both of my previous partners from that triad were kinky and while they weren’t into public play and were more geared towards poly fidelity than I was, we were fairly experimental and did a LOT in that decade.

All of this has built up in me to a fever pitch recently. I’ve been starved for attention, horny as hell, and really lonely. It’s not a good combination. There’ve been more fights. About a month or so ago, I told him I was going to stop mentioning it at all because I couldn’t stand hoping for something and bringing it up and it going poorly time and time again. I told him that he obviously knew where I lived and if he wanted something, he could let me know.

Then one day, after a particularly bad fight a few weeks ago, I went for a drive. Driving tends to help me clear my head and think about things in an easier way. Something about the combination of feeling like I’m actually in control of something in my life and blasting my music just lets me process things in a way that I can’t when I’m cooped up in a building. On this drive, I had an epiphany.

I’d been waiting for my husband to come to me. To throw me down and fuck me, to tell me he wanted me. And sometimes he did…but generally only when he wanted me to do something to him. I couldn’t remember the last time he ever did anything solely for me. Or told me he wanted me or missed me. But he did tell me or ask me when he wanted me to do things to him. So…why couldn’t I do the same thing? I realized I could only think of one instance in our entire marriage where I just went up to him and asked him to have sexy times for me. Not for him, not even for us…just because I was horny and I wanted him to get me off.

As someone who considers herself sex-positive, it blew my mind that I just don’t do this. But then again, when I thought about it more, I knew why. I may be a switch, but the majority of me is a service-oriented submissive. I want to please the people I care about, and much of the time, this will be to the exclusion of myself. It’s not something to pity. I’m just built differently. Egalitarian, vanilla sex bores me. I used to think I wanted to make love more, but one of my exes asked me once if I realized I like making love for about 5 minutes and after that, I was begging to be fucked and taken, rode hard for their pleasure.

Because that’s the other really fucking difficult part of all this. I have a real and true fetish…as a cuckquean. I’ve recently discovered it doesn’t just textbook apply to my husband but can extend to others that I have a sexual connection to. It’s my primary source for masturbation fantasies. It’s one of two types of porn I look at, and it’s the kind I look at 95% of the time. (God bless you, tumblr)

But let’s look at what this means: I’m a demisexual submissive who’s actual fetish is being a cuckquean. There are three different levels of why I don’t think about asking for something solely for my own pleasure. It’s so wrapped up in and dependent on another person, and the specificity of another person (currently there are two in the world that fit this bill, so that’s…extremely limited) that it’s no wonder that I’m lonely and frustrated, even though I’m married and have some interesting prospects, I think.

I mean…first of all, I don’t form sexual connections easily. Then there’s the fact that I want to primarily please those connections when I make them. THEN you add to it that I get off more strongly if that person I worked so hard to make that connection with fucks someone else. And tells me how much they like it. And hearing them enjoy as it’s happening is…intensely erotic doesn’t even begin to cover it. Holy hell, humans are fucking complex.

So I’m learning how to overcome those things to have a good sex life with my husband. And last night…I just asked for something for me. It started as awkward but got way less awkward pretty quickly.

Last night was pretty damn good.

Fucking February and All The Feels

Fair warning disclaimer: This post is going to be long, all over the fucking place, full of links to blogs I’m finding helpful, free-association lyrics, fast-forwarding and rewinding, and just a whole bunch of stuff I’m trying to extract from my brain and heart.

For some reason, over the past four years, February has had a habit of kicking me right in the feels. Without fail, by the end of the month for the past four years, I’m inundated and overwhelmed by whatever has happened in the few weeks of this brutal, brilliant, abbreviated month. I mean, for fuck’s sake, it’s the shortest month of the year…how does it ALWAYS manage to pack a gut punch and a half? It probably doesn’t help that Valentine’s Day, with all it’s socially trappings and expectations, is in there, along with my wedding anniversary. Which my husband did the sweetest thing as an anniversary gift. At Wicked Faire this year, he had the DJ tech person play our wedding song during the Later Night Atrium Dance Party so we could dance to it. (Cue the chorus of “awwwwws”).

All told, it was a mostly good weekend for us personally, except for the one night he fucked up a promise. That hurt. But we’ve discussed it, he’s apologized, and we’ve moved on. And the next night’s anniversary present helped. But I’m glad that it didn’t affect him hanging out with his girlfriend and that he got to spend one of the nights with her. Long distance relationships suck, especially when you only see each other a few times a year and you’re also working during those times.

Anyway, this year, February’s Fucking Feelfest snuck up on me. I though I could escape the flood and was dealing with the past and present well. And maybe I am. But it all finally overtook me last night.

This year, there were good things on the horizon early on in the month and exciting things that happened and I made strides that I hadn’t expected. For instance, I got my ass back up on the burlesque stage, went completely topless for the first time on a public stage, pushed myself in some ways within my own relationship only to find it really didn’t need pushing at all and was completely fine, stood up for myself when things were not going as promised and mostly handled it productively.

These were the normal ups and downs, with some extra awesome thrown in. For example, seriously, so happy about performing at the last Wicked Faire. This song was floating in my brain most of the day Saturday:

I don’t know why I’m frightened
I know my way around here
The cardboard trees, the painted scenes, the sound here
Yes, a world to rediscover
But I’m not in any hurry
And I need a moment
The whispered conversations in overcrowded hallways
The atmosphere as thrilling here as always
Feel the early morning madness
Feel the magic in the making
Why everything’s as if we never said goodbye
I’ve spent so many mornings
Just trying to resist you
I’m trembling now
You can’t know how I’ve missed you
Missed the fairy-tale adventures
In this ever-spinning playground
We were young together

“As If we Never Said Goodbye” – Sunset Boulevard

But there were also some crazy, head-exploding moments from the weekend, including seeing someone in an entirely new light and trying to reconcile all of that then freaking out a little and doing my best to not run in the opposite direction for fear of fucking everything up, having him laugh at me, not knowing the current style of his relationship with his girlfriend and not wanting to inadvertently hurt her which would suck because she’s amazing, and just generally it took a lot to keep that together and to myself and sometimes I failed spectacularly. Added to that was the fact that I still had to do my job, and had that performance I was just talking about, and for some reason, decided this was the event I was going to experience the party side of the nights so I got into two room parties I’d only ever heard of previously. Wound up having some intense, awesome experiences and conversations. The more I opened up, I found, the more there were awesome people around to further the amazing experiences, from an really cool guided imagery massage that helped me sober up to a really interesting conversation about poly and couple privilege that has rocked my brain a little and given me a perspective on it that I never considered before.

Woman, open the door; don’t let it sting.

I wanna breathe that fire again.

-“Read My Mind” by the Killers

And there’s a part of me that’s just aching to breathe the fire I’ve felt before again. To rise from the ashes and explore feelings I get so rarely. And I have to temper that with other people, distance, time…life. But it ties into me wanting to get back into playing and unearthing my kink drive again, which has been dormant for way too long. Sure, she gets out and makes a quick walk around the block sometimes, but on a whole…I know I can go deeper. I have gone deeper. I need to go deeper again. Thankfully, there are a few interesting prospects on the horizon, but it’s coming back down to a game of hurry up and wait. But I am grateful for those people in my life who are there and want to explore and play with me. They are some truly excellent people.

Then there’s the thing where all of the people and things that are happening currently remind me or touch on some part of my past. The metamour who might be core monagamous or poly-friendly, but there’s no real way to know yet is dredging up some things from how I used to be when I first got into poly which is, in turn, pointing out some glaring mistakes I made that I now regret. Part of me wishes I could tell that to my two exes, but since they’re not talking to me, it’s a moot subject. Well, maybe not moot. Just I only get to have internal realizations and not apologize directly.  And really, there’s so much more to it than the mistakes I made anyway, but those are the only things I can control and apologize for. And god, I would apologize for the apparently standard practice of poly newbies to create rules up the wazoo in a fucked up attempt of protecting the primariness and specialness that I was so desperately afraid of losing. In my case, and in many cases, from what I’m reading and have read over the years, it tends to have the opposite affect of and instead pushes people away. Also, knowing now how better to handle jealousy and where it comes from, this article that I read years ago on the subject makes so much more sense.

Really, jealousy is just a fear of something being lost or taken away. It’s a feeling that points out where you feel there is an imbalance. And the “feel “part of that is the most important, to me, at least. Because it’s not always the case. Something isn’t necessarily being taken away. Sometimes it is. But sometimes new and wonderful things can be there to replace it if we let them. But for me, I’ve finally learned that when I’m feeling jealous, it generally doesn’t mean that I want the other person to stop what they’re doing, but that I’d really like some of what they’re doing, maybe at some point in the future.

For example, when I get jealous of the screen of emojis I see my husband texting to a love interest, it doesn’t mean he has to stop sending emojis or stop texting that person. It means I tell him that I’d really like to get some of those at some point, too, to spice up our texts. It has nothing to do with limiting or controlling his behavior anymore, in an attempt to reinforce that I’m The Most Important Snowflake Ever. I come from a place of love and knowing that he can send emojis to more than one person and it’s okay. But it’s equally okay to say something in a non-accusatory way about trying to get some sweet, sweet emoji loving, too. But on the flip side, if he’s doing that during a pre-set date night with me, then that’s a problem and I’d ask him to stop and let his sweetie know that we’re on a date and he can sext her lots later or tomorrow. In that latter case, it’s not about controlling my partner’s behavior, but both of us honoring and respecting the time and attention of the partner we’ve agreed to spend a certain amount of time with.

I’ve been struggling with this concept of poly with no rules for a while now, but it’s making more sense to me. The more I let go of my fear with my husband and begin to open up to the people he wants to explore with and the people I want to explore with, the more I find this ringing true. But it’s still struggling with my hierarchical core. But what I’m finding more and more is that once I transcend the fear of abandonment and realize I will be okay whether or not I have a primary, the stronger my primary relationship gets and the happier we both are pursuing the feelings and desires we have outside of each other. It’s a weird paradox, kinda like that quote about taking a leap and building your wings on the way down. And it’s come with its fair share of tears, anxiety, confusion, and loneliness. But it’s also been balanced out with a joy and openness and relief I didn’t expect. Also, I still think “no rules” can coexist with hierarchy, but it can get complicated.

Along the lines of where my head is kinda at right now, there’s this article that focuses more on solo polyamory, but has a quote I adore:

“…falling in love doesn’t equate to inhibiting your freedoms or my own. When I fall for you, it means you mean something to me, and I ultimately want to be a part of your life that makes you happy and builds you up. I’m not expecting anything from our relationship beyond the present moment, but I’m also not closed to the idea of a deeper connection developing. I want to see what happens when neither one of us is pushing or angling for anything.”

SO MUCH THAT.

Man, love is fucking complicated.

And just like in that article, I had to learn the hard way that love does not equal compatibility, nor does it alone solve relationship problems, nor does it mean I have to sacrifice myself endlessly in the name of love. These were hard lessons to learn. Four years ago in February, a day after Wicked Faire ended, I woke up and asked my now ex-husband a question that was the catalyst for us all (I was in a triad marriage) to begin the long, painful process of ending a relationships/marriages that had stretched from 10 to 13 years.

And it sucks because even though there are multiple reasons why it’s probably the best thing that ever happened to me and I’m better off now, and they are, too, it still hurts. There’s the part of me that wanted my first real love to want me more than anything else. Want to stay with me forever. “true love” was supposed to be in my favor. I started out as the primary, after all.

How sad and sweet it is that I actually felt that way. My understanding about the nature of love has evolved so much over the past four years that it’s kind of staggering and I have to catch myself up sometimes. Remind myself that what feels familiar is not what I actually believe anymore. Remind myself that there’s so much of the stuff in this article that I used to do because I was so afraid. Demotion, displacement, intrusion…well, I tried not to do too much of the intrusion. But god…I was a wreck when we first opened up our relationship. In between being in love with our then girlfriend, I was a goddamned wreck. My boyfriend’s chemistry with her was palpable, and for an empath who hadn’t even begun to learn much about being an empath, that just fucking wrecked me. I couldn’t feel her in the same way as I felt him and her. I now know, since hindsight is 20/20, that that also had to do with the fact that I was a cuckquean, but had no clue about that word or what it entailed way back then. This all created some intense drama and difficulty that was sometimes balanced with moments of poly clarity and brilliance. Sometimes balanced.

Fuck, it’s been a long road.

More than anything, I’m really happy to have discovered this piece about Casual Love by Carsie Blanton because it sums up my feelings about love. I used to think it was this precious commodity that came with specific things that I should have or get or that other people should do to ensure my primacy and specialness. Now I endeavor to understand and embrace love in all it’s messy glory. For friends that are awesome even when they’re annoying, for family even when they cut you so deep you examine everything about who you are, for lovers who make really fucking huge mistakes, and for all the good that all of the above do, and all the experiences that we’ve shared and could share in the future.

It’s funny; a friend and possible D/s partner texted me recently to tell me he had an odd realization about me that he wanted to share. Apparently, he feels I don’t have a mean bone in my body and I have an openness and kindness in my face that’s apparent.

Upon reading this, I was struck with two conflicting reactions. Being touched and outright laughter.

It’s an incredible compliment to be considered so open and kind. It’s also hysterical that people don’t think I don’t have a mean bone in my body. I’m human, for fuck’s sake. As I told him, I believe everyone has a light and dark side, including me. I just try really hard not to indulge or dwell in it. All humans have both inside.

Granted, I’ve spent the better part of two decades trying to over-correct for the mistakes I saw people making around me when I was growing up, like racism, homophobia, xenophobia, fear of any new experiences or people or things. I respect and honor my dark side and work my ass off not to let fear run my life. It doesn’t mean I don’t feel fear, or that I never have mean thoughts, or that I haven’t done stupid, thoughtless, bad things. Again, see HUMAN. But I over-analyze so much about relationships and people and that includes myself, so I prefer to err on the side of joy, wonder, and discovery. This quote from Rainer Maria Rilke is one of my favorites and it’s kind of my motto:

“We must assume our existence as broadly as we in any way can; everything, even the unheard-of, must be possible in it. That is at bottom the only courage that is demanded of us: to have courage for the most strange, the most singular and the most inexplicable that we may encounter. That mankind has in this sense been cowardly has done life endless harm…But fear of the inexplicable has not alone impoverished the existence of the individual; the relationship between one human being and another has also been cramped by it, as though it had been lifted out of the riverbed of endless possibilities and set down in a fallow spot on the bank, to which nothing happens. For it is not inertia alone that is responsible for human relationships repeating themselves from case to case, indescribably monotonous and unrenewed: it is shyness before any sort of new, unforeseeable experience with which one does not think oneself able to cope. But only someone who is ready for everything, who excludes nothing, not even the most enigmatical, will live the relation to another as something alive and will himself draw exhaustively from his own existence.”

I think this approach to being open to enigmatical things was what led to me exploring my first ever casual sex experience at Wicked Faire last year. (again, y’know, February). Which was great, but I still kinda went stone butch in that I had no problem giving sexually the person I was with, but wasn’t able to accept sexual reciprocation. I’m not disappointed; this person gave me some AWESOME and totally fulfilling sensation play that I was craving.

But now I’m trying to sort through some even more mysterious feelings and trying not to get too far ahead of myself, because there are other people involved and I’m states away and have a lot on my plate and it’s just got levels of complexity and…yeah.

It’s a lot to sort through and last night, after talking with the new person, I just got off the phone and needed to drive. And cry. And sing. At the top of my lungs. The open highway called me and I just let it all come in. Felt it all. The past, the pain, the sensation, the burlesque and creativity, the love, the loss, the moving on, the fear, the desire, the concern…just so much to feel and process.

And just some bonus content…a playlist of songs I can’t get out of my head lately that fit various parts of all this:

  1. Read My Mind – The Killers
  2. Just Enough – Charlotte Sometimes
  3. I Get Off – Halestorm
  4. Dreams – Brandi Carlile
  5. All This and Heaven Too – Florence + the Machine
  6. Amazed – Poe
  7. Epoch – HUMANWINE
  8. Holding On To Good – Delta Rae
  9. Fearless Love – Melissa Etheridge
  10. Independent Love Song – Scarlett
  11. Suddenly – Les Mis MPS
  12. As If We’ve Never Said Goodbye – Glee version, from Sunset Boulevard
  13. Arsonist’s Lullaby – Hozier
  14. Have to Drive – Amanda Fucking Palmer
  15. Time Ago – Black Lab
  16. The Winner Takes It All – Meryl Streep, Mamma Mia
  17. Fake Plastic trees – Radiohead
  18. Wild Awake – Tylan
  19. Under Pressure – Queen/David Bowie

Sex (and dating) is boring. I want adventure.

(Note: My original post is on another, more locked down social networking site. This is the evolution of that first post.)

Okay, so they’re not entirely or always boring. Both can totally be interesting and fun. But I’m finding that plain, old, run of the mill, cat and mouse game of vanilla sex is just…boring. Sex has never been a primary urge for me. It holds no interest to me as just a thing unto itself. My primary urge is connection to specific people and energy and the adventure of that connection. But all around me, from when I was growing up to present day, there’s this push that sex is the end goal.

With modern dating as I understand it,there’s a complicated dance which involves presenting yourself as something you’re not and having conversations you don’t really want to have and faking interests. Sitcom, movie, and book plots revolve around it. And if you want to skip the dating and go right to the sex, from what I’ve heard, mainstream offerings are limited to bootie calls, one night stands, and affairs.

So the sex happens, and it’s sweaty and intense, and then…it seems to be over. Many times, if statistics are to be believed, without the female bodied person even having an orgasm. And my mind just boggles.

I have no desire to color my hair to hide the gray, apply layers of makeup, wear heels, put on restrictive garments to force my body into a shape it’s not, and have conversations about things that I don’t care about and feign interest/knowledge I don’t have in some hope of getting laid. In fact, “getting laid” has never really been a goal for me.

Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done burlesque and theatre and various other types of performances. I fully understand the benefit of makeup, specific undergarments, hair dyes and wigs, costumes. But that’s just it for me. They’re parts of costumes I wear when I want to disguise who I am and be someone else. This is why is makes no sense to me to do these things for dating and sex. I want you to see who I am and goddammit, I want to see who you are.

In my mind, it’s too easy to just go in for sex. One night stands are fairly simple to find willing partners for, bootie calls are more and more socially sanctioned, and our culture finds it more permissible to cheat rather than open up your relationship with the consent and agreement of all parties. Turn out the lights, take off your clothes, insert tab A into slot B or some variation thereof, have orgasm (or not), call it a night. The thought just makes me weep with boredom and lack of comprehension.

My goals are getting to know someone, connecting with them, taking time to listen to them and hear them and be actively interested in them, caring about them and loving them, talking about sensitive subjects, touching their skin, seeing what areas make them shiver so I can do that more and which make them shrink away so I can do less of that. My goal is to watch the changing light in their eyes like a movie and feel the emotions rolling off them as they talk about something we both fully, actively enjoy talking about. I want to dance with or for people and feel that they want to reach out and touch me and experience me the way I want to experience them. My goals are to find the people who revel in my singing or singing with me. Soaring harmonies of the musical and the physical and emotional variety are my goals. I want to not just be seen as a sexual body conquest to be “done”, but a whole person to be savored.

As I learn more about myself, I’m still trying to figure out if the label demisexual fits. Perhaps I’m just selectively sexual and looking for the types of sexual encounters that go beyond carnal. That transcend lust and dip into exploration and appreciation and fully experiencing the moment. Something that can’t be duplicated. New creation. I want to go on people adventures and I want to people to go on a Geneviève adventure.

Because there’s so much more to experience than just sex. So many touches, cuddles, glances, situations, feelings, bruises, breathless moments that fulfill me more than being fucked. I crave power play way more than I desire orgasms. In fact, I often find sex to be distracting from more interesting pursuits.

What’s funny about this is I feel like in trying to describe this and figure it out, I sound like a prude when I would wager that the very few people I have been and am sexual with would describe me as anything but. I love sex with the right person/people, have been praised for my oral skills from both teams, and do partake of some fun sexual olympics. It’s just never been a primary preference of connection and only sometimes is it my secondary preference of connection. Currently, my husband is the only person I crave in a purely sexual way. Anyone else I’m interested in is mostly for non-sexual fun, with an infrequent dose of potential sexy times.

In the words of James Boyle from Facebook/berlin-artparasites:

I hope you meet someone who wants to experience you and not just see you by their eyes. Someone who doesn’t only want to have sex with you but moves their fingers over your body like trying to find a city on a world map and mark their favourite destinations. Someone who wants to experience you like a masterpiece. Whenever we observe a masterpiece we get the urge to touch it and most of the time we do, involuntarily, because it’s so perfect that we not only want to see it with our eyes and forget it’s details later on because I read somewhere that every time you recall a memory your brain edits it bit by bit so we long to experience it so that each part which contributes to it’s perfection stays with us afterall how scary it would be to forget how perfect you felt. So I hope someone experiences you like a summer breeze stroking your hair, like the warmth of bonfire on a chilly winter night, like the taste of that traditional homemade dish by a mother for her children who’s taste forever lingers in their mouth. I hope you find someone who justifies in treating you like the perfect art you are.
– James Boyle

Granted, this has made it hard to negotiate sometimes.

Them: What do you want?
Me: To see what we can experience together…?
Them: Care to narrow it down a little?

So I’m learning to refine it. To be more specific about the types of things I want to experience, even if they do feel incredibly weird like blindfolding each other and touching skin slowly. No words. No sight. Just touch. Or a game of adult hide and seek. Or spending an hour just making out. Or having my hair brushed then being pummeled to a playlist of my favorite songs.

One of the best compliments I got recently was from a friend who was helping to massage out some issues in my lower back. My pants were pulled down slightly to allow him access and he all of a sudden said, “I know you may have some self-consciousness about your stretch marks, but these are pretty badass. You’ve got lightning bolts back here.”

It wasn’t sexual, but it had a sliver of sensuality to it. It was a true connection between two people. It was opening myself up to feeling better and letting someone in, instead of falling down a spiral of despair because he was commenting on my stretch marks.  It was appreciating that stretch marks are not horrific. He kept working out the issues in my back. He said something positive to me and helped me to see my body in a new, more powerful way. He didn’t have to buy me dinner and I wasn’t expected to “put out”.

THIS is the type of experience I want.

Two great tastes that I can’t usually put together: a guest post on kinkyasexuals

(Originally written for kinkyasexuals.wordpress.com)

When I was around seven, my older sister was in the Concert Choir in high school. They had a fundraiser, as school clubs are wont to do, to raise money and did so with the most enticing of all things: Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. Seven year old me thought it was my birthday, Christmas, and Easter all rolled into one when case after case of the bright orange wrapped treats were carried into our house. I was given a strict lecture by my mom (and vague threats from my sister) to Not Touch The Candy. That if I wanted some, I had to ask because we had to pay for it all. And by “we”, my parents meant “they”. Seven year old me tried to contain the pure joy and desire of being in the same house as cases of Reese’s and do it up proper by asking when I wanted some. The problem was, I wanted them all the time and my mom had to keep telling me “no”. My solution to this was to steal a case, stow it under the crawl space of our front porch, and then proceed to sneak off to eat my way through it over the course of a weekend. (Side note: I do not recommend this.) More than thirty years later, I still cannot eat peanut butter and chocolate together. The smell of it makes me nauseous.

People often look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them I can’t eat anything with chocolate and peanut butter in it together. While most everyone I know considers the two to be “two great tastes that taste great together”, I can only enjoy one at a time. This may seem like a strange opening for a blog that talks about the asexual spectrum. But for me, kink and sex are like peanut butter and chocolate. Each are fantastic on their own, but rarely do I (or can I) put the two together.

Before I had the vocabulary to know that I’m demisexual and panromantic, I used to think I was a lesbian. In my teens, I was only interested in women, so it stood to reason. I met my first husband when I was 20, and that kind of turned my “baby dyke” identity on it’s head. We dated for a few years before meeting the woman we would later marry (and they would then leave me and marry each other.) I was sexually attracted to them, but rarely attracted to anyone else. However, after meeting and falling in love with my (now) ex­wife, I learned about the term polyamorous. I fell in love on a regular basis with all different kinds of people, but was hardly ever sexually attracted to them. Likewise with play partners.

I’ve been asked when and how I chose to be this way, to separate kink from sexuality, but it really was never a conscious choice. The bottom line is that kink rarely “turns me on” in a sexual way. Yes, I get breathless with the right Dom(me)’s tone of voice and adore impact play like flogging, but to be blunt, neither make me wet.

For example, once I was exploring vendor row at GKE (the Geeky Kink Event) with a friend and sometimes play partner whom I share an interesting D/s switchy dynamic. I had her on a lead and was primarily testing different toys on her willing backside. In my Dommely element, I picked up a particularly stingy toy and used it on her ass. She reacted with an arched back and tortured yet pleasurable exclamation. Things were going well. I was enjoying myself. And then she said something like, “god, I’m going to have to change my panties. That made me so wet.” On my end, it was like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on me. There was nothing sexual about this to me. I was not wet nor in need of a panty change and the thought of this being sexual made me want to stop completely.

The person who mentored me in many aspects of D/s and polyamory was a Dom figure in my life for many years. I read his book. It resonated on many levels…well, all but the parts on sex. We had myriad conversations about power dynamics, kink, polyamory, the nature of love and submission, healthy ways of practicing both, navigating through complicated emotions and situations, and so much more. But we never had sex. My connection to him was incredibly strong and his type of mental dominance hit the core of my service oriented submission and I think that if I had wanted to, we probably would’ve had sex. The only problem was I had no sexual attraction to him and our interactions never “turned me on” in that sexual way.

There were times I thought I was broken. Or repressed. I didn’t masturbate to kink porn. When my mentor would ask if I was wet from our interaction, the answer was, to the best of my recollection, always no. And while he tried to convince me that there wasn’t anything wrong with me, that he still thought I was a worthy student and submissive, I couldn’t help but still feel less than. I wasn’t a “good submissive” or “good enough” because the only people I could mix kink and sex with were my then boyfriend and girlfriend. I wasn’t the nubile, wet, ready sex sub. I wanted sensation play. I craved mental dominance. I needed cathartic pain. But none of it came with a side or main dish of sex. ALL I wanted was flogging. Being told to kneel. Being thrown into a wall and ordered around. None of this ended or included sex in my mind. Scenes began and ended with the play, many times with me partially or fully covered.

For a while, I could hide behind the fact that my husband and wife’s boundaries when I dated or played with people is that it didn’t include sex. Since I was an un­named demisexual, this wound up being fine with me for the most part. Even after my marriage(s) fell apart and I began figuring out my own rules, I quickly discovered that while I wanted to pursue play partners, sex was not a big factor for me.

When I moved down South from New Jersey, I quickly searched for poly meet ups and a kink community. Imagine my delight when I found out that there was not only a local community and munches, but a dungeon! And not only a dungeon…a SEX FREE dungeon! I made friends in the scene who weren’t happy about the the fact that the dungeon was sex free but I was ecstatic. Finally, the pressure to have sexual relations and kink mixed together would be relieved. At long last, there was a place where I didn’t have to worry about expectations during negotiations, or being around other people having sex around me.

Thankfully, it hasn’t been difficult for me to find a few partners who are okay with the lack of sex. Some even prefer it, at least for right now. And while I still feel like the world around me always pairs their kinky peanut butter with sexy chocolate, I know it’s not entirely true. There seem to be more people who think sex is integral to their kink than not, but there are still people out there who can and do separate the two. I’m more comfortable than ever in my own skin and desires. Not wanting to mix sex and kink doesn’t make me any less kinky, or any less of a submissive, or any less of a Domme. I don’t need to play with someone sexually to command them mentally and I don’t have to be wet or down to fuck to be a “real submissive.” Just because chocolate and peanut butter is enjoyed together by many doesn’t mean that that’s the only way to enjoy the two, just like sex and kink.