When we lie together
on that sacrificial bed
wet with the evidence of your love
I sometimes wonder
if the sheets are charred
underneath my body.
Almost every time
a fire kindles
in that deep place I hide from the others
when your hands go there
and your lips
are here and you push
your heart toward me.
The air I breathe
in that almost every time moment
fans the kindled
flame into blazing
fire and I lift my hips
and try to escape
it's burn.
Keeping my eyes closed,
as my temperature rises
and my breasts fall into
your hands
the layers of who I pretend to be
incinerate,
become ash and I scream
to feel the loss of what I present,
the smoldering corpse,
the shame of being me.
Holding my breath I fear those charred remains,
so I laugh
to hide the fire inside.
Giggles grow a new veil
thighs tremble and ache
for more of you than I can afford.
Friday, December 22, 2006
Thursday, December 21, 2006
The Time of Preparation
I start my day by thinking about seeing you later. I wake from my sleep and you are the first thing on my mind, and slowly a warm glow washes over me and settles in between my thighs, there's a sensitivity that radiates from the warmth and wetness making my whole body aware of touch and smell and taste. The anticipation starts to build as soon as my eyes open and I can't wait to make love to you.
Generally I fill the hours before we are together with errands or work, to keep my mind mostly occupied, you are there as a shadow gracefully clinging to my body and at odd times making my nipples hard in expectation. You always tell me you love my nipples, that they are beautiful and sensitive, that's one of my favorite things you know, the way you nibble and suck at them bringing them to life. I love looking down at your face as you nuzzle into my breast, there's something so comforting in seeing you there, lips puckered around that bit of pink.
The ritual takes about two hours. It's a luxury I know, time always is and I am so grateful to have the time to spend on you, on me, on us in this particular way. Some days I feel rushed and tired or depressed and I cheat a little, but almost always the ritual of preparation is strictly adhered to. Not only for your benefit, but also for my own enjoyment. You know more than anyone how I love the doing of things. Cooking, gardening, shopping, it's the activity and the participation in my life that brings me joy and satisfaction, that's why I've made our times of loving special in my own way. It's a way for me to honor you and the love we have together.
I start with a bath, warm and bubbly I slip into the water that cradles and comforts. The water caresses every fold of tender skin, gives me goose bumps and again my nipples stand erect in anticipation of your hands, your tender and firm touch. I breathe deeply the fragrance clinging in the air and relax. My hands touch and explore my body, as if they've never been there before. Legs, stomach, hips, arms, neck wrapped in pretty iridescent bubbles with an all to short life span. I wander down between my thighs and my fingers probe through the folds and crevasses up and down increasing and decreasing pressure and then slightly penetrate the hidden treasure that has been patiently waiting for you. While my fingers play upon my body, my legs lifted and knees bent I imagine you there between them, looking up at me and smiling. I close my eyes and feel your tongue wrapping around my clit and my fingers press it as if wanting to make you suddenly appear. I imagine you licking my pussy, wetness dripping from your chin. I imagine your hands in the exact places that my hands are now, stroking, pinching, playing as if you are a boy again, discovering for the first time that ancient secret. I scrub every part, my toes, the legs you love, the delicate skin of my ass, shoulders and breasts. Every inch of me will be soft and supple. I want you to, every time you touch me, have visions of silk and satin. I want you to dream of the softness of me under your hands and to ache to feel my skin when you go there or do that. Shaving comes next, I take such care in this, to make sure everything is smooth as the day I was born. I stand and wash my hair, letting the soap create rivulets that run over my breasts, my back, shoulders and stomach. Some of the soap, the most adventurous, makes it all the way down to my thighs and the little valley in between, bubbles clinging bit by bit to the little triangle of dark hair there. I turn on the shower to rinse and the cold air and warm water create tingles up and down my back and I shiver. That ache I feel for you, for your body grows, that excitement I feel to have your hard cock buried inside me stirs in my belly and again I shiver, but not because I'm cold this time. Stepping from the bath I wrap my hair in a towel and let the water drip from my body, then I start massaging my skin with scented oil, pressing and pulling, sitting on the edge of the tub I lift one leg and then another massaging the calves and up to the thighs, thinking of you. Imagining you standing in front of me, naked and with your hands in my hair as I lean against your groin smelling your scent and grasping your balls in my hands with a tender pull. I massage my belly and run my hands up and over my hips and around my breasts pulling and kneading them. I stand and walk to the sink to brush my teeth, apply deodorant, and then a scented oil to my hair. I love the feeling of your hands in my hair. I know I tell you that, it's just so true. I want it to be silk in your grip, I want you to think of the aroma when you lie down to sleep. Everything in the ritual is about softness, about pleasing the senses and I take special care to make sure everything is as good as it can be and I think of you. I think of ways I want you to take me as I apply my make up. I think of you bending me over the bed and playing with my ass as I blow dry my hair. I pick a pair of panties and sometimes a bra, I walk around my bedroom straightening and making the bed, picturing you lying there, I sometimes picture me tying you to the posts and making you crazy with wanting me, until you feel that you would explode unless I fuck you right then. I imagine you on your back with your hips open to me, I imagine you on your knees burying your cock down into my throat as your eyes roll back into your head and your brain stops working for a split second, I sometimes live for those split seconds. I'm sitting now on the edge of the bed partially dressed brushing my long hair, at this point I can't wait to see you and I look at the clock, an hour or maybe just thirty minutes, either way it's an eternity. I lie back into the pillows and reach inside those panties, wetness greets my middle finger and I plunge it inside me thinking of you. I'm tempted to masturbate, but I want you, it's all for you and I wait, with a gripping, painful yearning inside. I want you, I want you. Slipping into my clothes and my shoes I spritz on my favorite perfume, fifteen minutes left. The ritual is over and the pacing begins. I know I seem nonchalant when you walk through the door, as if I've been casually awaiting your arrival. It's an act you know. There is a beast within me that yearns to be satisfied by you. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, take me to bed and rip off the clothes that were only put on minutes before. Press your weight on top of me, tell me you've been waiting all day, tell me you love me, feel the softness of my hair, the dewy freshness of my skin, the moistness of my fragrant pussy and revel in the body that has been prepared for you, for this moment.
Generally I fill the hours before we are together with errands or work, to keep my mind mostly occupied, you are there as a shadow gracefully clinging to my body and at odd times making my nipples hard in expectation. You always tell me you love my nipples, that they are beautiful and sensitive, that's one of my favorite things you know, the way you nibble and suck at them bringing them to life. I love looking down at your face as you nuzzle into my breast, there's something so comforting in seeing you there, lips puckered around that bit of pink.
The ritual takes about two hours. It's a luxury I know, time always is and I am so grateful to have the time to spend on you, on me, on us in this particular way. Some days I feel rushed and tired or depressed and I cheat a little, but almost always the ritual of preparation is strictly adhered to. Not only for your benefit, but also for my own enjoyment. You know more than anyone how I love the doing of things. Cooking, gardening, shopping, it's the activity and the participation in my life that brings me joy and satisfaction, that's why I've made our times of loving special in my own way. It's a way for me to honor you and the love we have together.
I start with a bath, warm and bubbly I slip into the water that cradles and comforts. The water caresses every fold of tender skin, gives me goose bumps and again my nipples stand erect in anticipation of your hands, your tender and firm touch. I breathe deeply the fragrance clinging in the air and relax. My hands touch and explore my body, as if they've never been there before. Legs, stomach, hips, arms, neck wrapped in pretty iridescent bubbles with an all to short life span. I wander down between my thighs and my fingers probe through the folds and crevasses up and down increasing and decreasing pressure and then slightly penetrate the hidden treasure that has been patiently waiting for you. While my fingers play upon my body, my legs lifted and knees bent I imagine you there between them, looking up at me and smiling. I close my eyes and feel your tongue wrapping around my clit and my fingers press it as if wanting to make you suddenly appear. I imagine you licking my pussy, wetness dripping from your chin. I imagine your hands in the exact places that my hands are now, stroking, pinching, playing as if you are a boy again, discovering for the first time that ancient secret. I scrub every part, my toes, the legs you love, the delicate skin of my ass, shoulders and breasts. Every inch of me will be soft and supple. I want you to, every time you touch me, have visions of silk and satin. I want you to dream of the softness of me under your hands and to ache to feel my skin when you go there or do that. Shaving comes next, I take such care in this, to make sure everything is smooth as the day I was born. I stand and wash my hair, letting the soap create rivulets that run over my breasts, my back, shoulders and stomach. Some of the soap, the most adventurous, makes it all the way down to my thighs and the little valley in between, bubbles clinging bit by bit to the little triangle of dark hair there. I turn on the shower to rinse and the cold air and warm water create tingles up and down my back and I shiver. That ache I feel for you, for your body grows, that excitement I feel to have your hard cock buried inside me stirs in my belly and again I shiver, but not because I'm cold this time. Stepping from the bath I wrap my hair in a towel and let the water drip from my body, then I start massaging my skin with scented oil, pressing and pulling, sitting on the edge of the tub I lift one leg and then another massaging the calves and up to the thighs, thinking of you. Imagining you standing in front of me, naked and with your hands in my hair as I lean against your groin smelling your scent and grasping your balls in my hands with a tender pull. I massage my belly and run my hands up and over my hips and around my breasts pulling and kneading them. I stand and walk to the sink to brush my teeth, apply deodorant, and then a scented oil to my hair. I love the feeling of your hands in my hair. I know I tell you that, it's just so true. I want it to be silk in your grip, I want you to think of the aroma when you lie down to sleep. Everything in the ritual is about softness, about pleasing the senses and I take special care to make sure everything is as good as it can be and I think of you. I think of ways I want you to take me as I apply my make up. I think of you bending me over the bed and playing with my ass as I blow dry my hair. I pick a pair of panties and sometimes a bra, I walk around my bedroom straightening and making the bed, picturing you lying there, I sometimes picture me tying you to the posts and making you crazy with wanting me, until you feel that you would explode unless I fuck you right then. I imagine you on your back with your hips open to me, I imagine you on your knees burying your cock down into my throat as your eyes roll back into your head and your brain stops working for a split second, I sometimes live for those split seconds. I'm sitting now on the edge of the bed partially dressed brushing my long hair, at this point I can't wait to see you and I look at the clock, an hour or maybe just thirty minutes, either way it's an eternity. I lie back into the pillows and reach inside those panties, wetness greets my middle finger and I plunge it inside me thinking of you. I'm tempted to masturbate, but I want you, it's all for you and I wait, with a gripping, painful yearning inside. I want you, I want you. Slipping into my clothes and my shoes I spritz on my favorite perfume, fifteen minutes left. The ritual is over and the pacing begins. I know I seem nonchalant when you walk through the door, as if I've been casually awaiting your arrival. It's an act you know. There is a beast within me that yearns to be satisfied by you. Touch me, kiss me, hold me, take me to bed and rip off the clothes that were only put on minutes before. Press your weight on top of me, tell me you've been waiting all day, tell me you love me, feel the softness of my hair, the dewy freshness of my skin, the moistness of my fragrant pussy and revel in the body that has been prepared for you, for this moment.
Wednesday, December 20, 2006
Community vs. Family
Jack and I were talking yesterday afternoon about learning new things about poly even though he's been "in the lifestyle" for quite sometime. I've been thinking about my own lessons of the last year and how the act of living poly has changed my concept of it completely.
For one thing I have come to the idea that poly is who you are in a natural sense, not just something you do. You can be poly and not chose to live the lifestyle and you can chose the lifestyle and not really be poly. Make sense? I asked Richard most sincerely last week to tell me what it is he wanted from poly in his life, I likewise told him what it was that I was looking for. Now that I've had time to ruminate on our conversation I realize the question itself was wrong. I know you'll think it simply semantics but the intent and outcome will be different when looked at with this different perspective. Asking what I want from poly is like asking what a gay or lesbian wants from homosexuality. How exactly does that question apply? What I should have asked and how I should be looking at the situation, in my opinion, is what do I want from him, from this particular relationship. Consequently, all the other relationships I have as well. That has much more to do with the relationship itself and the other person involved than my theory on the poly lifestyle, although it plays a part.
Another thought that has morphed over time is the concept of the poly community. I think to say that such a community exists is a bit of a misnomer. The people all over the world that practice poly all have a different view about how to do it, how to regulate relationships. They all have differing rules of conduct and codes of ethical behavior. From extreme compartmentalization of relationships to households and group marriages of six or more people. There is not one basic constancy among the "community" save the word, nonmonogomy. That term itself includes a different set of "communities" all living in a way that they feel is acceptable. The conclusion I have come to is that it would behoove each one of us to build a network or a "family" of people who have relatively the same outlook and perception of the word that the individuals you are connected with do. I'm not talking about being exclusionary here. I'm not saying we each need to form a clique that fits our needs and never look outside our neatly defined borders. What I am saying is that we need to take care in building our extended network of people, that labeling someone poly doesn't in any sense mean that you both are on the same page about what that means. It's simply about awareness.
The communication mantra that is espoused frequently by so many involved in nonmonogomy has changed for me as well. When I started my relationships a year ago I had set ideas of how everything should work. Jack said to me the other day (he's an engineer), "I can look at the data and convince myself it says whatever it is that I want it to. In the end though, it has to work. If it doesn't work then I need to admit I was lying to myself." That struck a chord in me. When I started in my poly life I had rules and boundaries, I had it all figured out in my head. Planning is good, it just doesn't always work the way you think it should. There is nothing in life that can replace practical experience and application. I have come to believe that instead of keeping all my lovers separate, to the point that one never overlaps or touches the other in any way is not only naive, but impractical. We need to be talking, about everything and to everyone. Peripheral lovers nedd to be talking to prospective partners. We don't have to like all of the people our SO's are involved with but we at least need to be able to talk to one another. That doesn't mean we all have to agree either, it just means the lines of communication should be open across boundaries, like the U.N. I recognise that Britain and France aren't the best of friends and wouldn't, if they had the choice, bed each other, but the concept of networking works when they can at least be aware of each other. They need to be be aware of the motives each holds, the path that each is hoping to walk and so on.
So, when frustrations arise and problems in one relationship seem to spill over into another, I will remember that just because Britain and France have a mutual disdain for one another and that I, at times, can feel like South Africa we aren't just a part of a community but we are a family, and that's a whole different perspective.
For one thing I have come to the idea that poly is who you are in a natural sense, not just something you do. You can be poly and not chose to live the lifestyle and you can chose the lifestyle and not really be poly. Make sense? I asked Richard most sincerely last week to tell me what it is he wanted from poly in his life, I likewise told him what it was that I was looking for. Now that I've had time to ruminate on our conversation I realize the question itself was wrong. I know you'll think it simply semantics but the intent and outcome will be different when looked at with this different perspective. Asking what I want from poly is like asking what a gay or lesbian wants from homosexuality. How exactly does that question apply? What I should have asked and how I should be looking at the situation, in my opinion, is what do I want from him, from this particular relationship. Consequently, all the other relationships I have as well. That has much more to do with the relationship itself and the other person involved than my theory on the poly lifestyle, although it plays a part.
Another thought that has morphed over time is the concept of the poly community. I think to say that such a community exists is a bit of a misnomer. The people all over the world that practice poly all have a different view about how to do it, how to regulate relationships. They all have differing rules of conduct and codes of ethical behavior. From extreme compartmentalization of relationships to households and group marriages of six or more people. There is not one basic constancy among the "community" save the word, nonmonogomy. That term itself includes a different set of "communities" all living in a way that they feel is acceptable. The conclusion I have come to is that it would behoove each one of us to build a network or a "family" of people who have relatively the same outlook and perception of the word that the individuals you are connected with do. I'm not talking about being exclusionary here. I'm not saying we each need to form a clique that fits our needs and never look outside our neatly defined borders. What I am saying is that we need to take care in building our extended network of people, that labeling someone poly doesn't in any sense mean that you both are on the same page about what that means. It's simply about awareness.
The communication mantra that is espoused frequently by so many involved in nonmonogomy has changed for me as well. When I started my relationships a year ago I had set ideas of how everything should work. Jack said to me the other day (he's an engineer), "I can look at the data and convince myself it says whatever it is that I want it to. In the end though, it has to work. If it doesn't work then I need to admit I was lying to myself." That struck a chord in me. When I started in my poly life I had rules and boundaries, I had it all figured out in my head. Planning is good, it just doesn't always work the way you think it should. There is nothing in life that can replace practical experience and application. I have come to believe that instead of keeping all my lovers separate, to the point that one never overlaps or touches the other in any way is not only naive, but impractical. We need to be talking, about everything and to everyone. Peripheral lovers nedd to be talking to prospective partners. We don't have to like all of the people our SO's are involved with but we at least need to be able to talk to one another. That doesn't mean we all have to agree either, it just means the lines of communication should be open across boundaries, like the U.N. I recognise that Britain and France aren't the best of friends and wouldn't, if they had the choice, bed each other, but the concept of networking works when they can at least be aware of each other. They need to be be aware of the motives each holds, the path that each is hoping to walk and so on.
So, when frustrations arise and problems in one relationship seem to spill over into another, I will remember that just because Britain and France have a mutual disdain for one another and that I, at times, can feel like South Africa we aren't just a part of a community but we are a family, and that's a whole different perspective.
Monday, December 18, 2006
PPS
A graceful appetite, a graceful spirit, graceful manners from a graceful woman.
Being the type of woman that can be referred to as graceful has been a goal of mine since my twenties, it has a lot to do with how I saw my grandmother and her role in the world, and the fact that I have typically felt clumsy and awkward in my body. I had the good fortune last year to attend a workshop at the Human Awareness Institute, which was fabulous by the way, but while we were there the group I was in had to do an exercise while not speaking. All communication had to be non verbal. You know, for someone like me, a self proclaimed word-whore who loves to chatter and write, who would, if it were but possible have a torrid love affair with words like; honeysuckle, bubbles, sparkle, joy, ecstasy and so on, that exercise was the hardest of the weekend. I realized, much to my surprise, that I really don't know how to communicate non-verbally at all. The reason I discovered in an exercise that came after that was because I have always, from a very young age felt the opposite of graceful in my physical bearing and movement. I'm a catastrophic dancer. No really I'm not exaggerating in that. My husband bought us ballroom dancing lessons this year for Valentine's Day and it was catastrophic. Anyway, that has been a big part of my "graceful obsession". The other part relates to just my personality in general. I tend to be rather loud, opinionated and commanding in deportment. In other words I am not a wall flower. Not totally by design, I mean I don't purposefully set out to be someone who dominates the room or the conversation, it just happens. I feel that I have, what I lovingly refer to as, PPS. Personality Power Surges. I have within me a confidence that can be somewhat like a lioness, powerful and overwhelming. It's an energy flow that I truly feel. I want what I want and I want it now. Not from a selfish perspective but because I am a competent woman, convinced of the right course of action. Even the describing of it has an arrogant air and I don't mean it in that way at all. I just don't often second guess myself. I hate waiting around, I detest the inability of people to not make decisions readily. "Don't you know yourself?!" I want to scream. "Figure it out and stop wasting my time." See, harsh sounding huh? I also get terrifically horny and sexually powerful during these surges too. I could fuck forever and just feed off of the energy, so I'm having a hard time right now trying to make it through this post without masturbating.
Quickly then to my point!
I have been reading a fabulous book that Jack has given me this year for my birthday. The title is, Polyamory: Road maps for the Clueless and Hopeful, by Anthony Ravenscroft. I highly recommend it to all my poly friends as a great read and a thought provoking piece. What has caught my attention this week is the chapter, Sex vs. Communication. In it he talks a lot about how many of us use sex as a way of communicating or not communicating with our partners and being aware so as not to fall into the trap of either ideal. Since I have my power surges and am very sexual in general I tend to be in the first category and I tell myself regularly that if we can have sex or when we are having sex we are solving problems and getting closer.
Big mistake.
I have to learn to be objective when it comes to sex in my life. I need to learn to not use it to soothe or solve, to understand the anamalistic tendency of hormone rages and that it doesn't increase or decrease the love that I feel or want from a partner. Richard and I do regularly have confrontations that spring from an inability to relate verbally to each other. The patterns we use are completely different and it has caused problems of all sorts, unfortunately problems that don't tend to get solved because I want to have sex.
What to do?
Mr. Ravenscroft says,
"While I would gladly agree that sex inherently brings two souls closer together, there's a problem with that assessment: it just aint so. Sex stems from selfish motivations and animal drives. Various intellectual justifications can be pasted over those casual roots, but the fact remains. Once that is both acknowledged and recognized by the individuals involved, then things like communication and bonding can happen... It is far easier for sex to be a method for blocking or undermining communication than enhancing it. For sex to add to communication at all, there must be an underlying level of communication-- sex cannot be the foundation."
So, back to the challenge of being graceful.
I have within me a lust that is endless.
If Grandma could see me now.
Being the type of woman that can be referred to as graceful has been a goal of mine since my twenties, it has a lot to do with how I saw my grandmother and her role in the world, and the fact that I have typically felt clumsy and awkward in my body. I had the good fortune last year to attend a workshop at the Human Awareness Institute, which was fabulous by the way, but while we were there the group I was in had to do an exercise while not speaking. All communication had to be non verbal. You know, for someone like me, a self proclaimed word-whore who loves to chatter and write, who would, if it were but possible have a torrid love affair with words like; honeysuckle, bubbles, sparkle, joy, ecstasy and so on, that exercise was the hardest of the weekend. I realized, much to my surprise, that I really don't know how to communicate non-verbally at all. The reason I discovered in an exercise that came after that was because I have always, from a very young age felt the opposite of graceful in my physical bearing and movement. I'm a catastrophic dancer. No really I'm not exaggerating in that. My husband bought us ballroom dancing lessons this year for Valentine's Day and it was catastrophic. Anyway, that has been a big part of my "graceful obsession". The other part relates to just my personality in general. I tend to be rather loud, opinionated and commanding in deportment. In other words I am not a wall flower. Not totally by design, I mean I don't purposefully set out to be someone who dominates the room or the conversation, it just happens. I feel that I have, what I lovingly refer to as, PPS. Personality Power Surges. I have within me a confidence that can be somewhat like a lioness, powerful and overwhelming. It's an energy flow that I truly feel. I want what I want and I want it now. Not from a selfish perspective but because I am a competent woman, convinced of the right course of action. Even the describing of it has an arrogant air and I don't mean it in that way at all. I just don't often second guess myself. I hate waiting around, I detest the inability of people to not make decisions readily. "Don't you know yourself?!" I want to scream. "Figure it out and stop wasting my time." See, harsh sounding huh? I also get terrifically horny and sexually powerful during these surges too. I could fuck forever and just feed off of the energy, so I'm having a hard time right now trying to make it through this post without masturbating.
Quickly then to my point!
I have been reading a fabulous book that Jack has given me this year for my birthday. The title is, Polyamory: Road maps for the Clueless and Hopeful, by Anthony Ravenscroft. I highly recommend it to all my poly friends as a great read and a thought provoking piece. What has caught my attention this week is the chapter, Sex vs. Communication. In it he talks a lot about how many of us use sex as a way of communicating or not communicating with our partners and being aware so as not to fall into the trap of either ideal. Since I have my power surges and am very sexual in general I tend to be in the first category and I tell myself regularly that if we can have sex or when we are having sex we are solving problems and getting closer.
Big mistake.
I have to learn to be objective when it comes to sex in my life. I need to learn to not use it to soothe or solve, to understand the anamalistic tendency of hormone rages and that it doesn't increase or decrease the love that I feel or want from a partner. Richard and I do regularly have confrontations that spring from an inability to relate verbally to each other. The patterns we use are completely different and it has caused problems of all sorts, unfortunately problems that don't tend to get solved because I want to have sex.
What to do?
Mr. Ravenscroft says,
"While I would gladly agree that sex inherently brings two souls closer together, there's a problem with that assessment: it just aint so. Sex stems from selfish motivations and animal drives. Various intellectual justifications can be pasted over those casual roots, but the fact remains. Once that is both acknowledged and recognized by the individuals involved, then things like communication and bonding can happen... It is far easier for sex to be a method for blocking or undermining communication than enhancing it. For sex to add to communication at all, there must be an underlying level of communication-- sex cannot be the foundation."
So, back to the challenge of being graceful.
I have within me a lust that is endless.
If Grandma could see me now.
Thursday, December 14, 2006
A Pint of Kisses and A Pound of Love
Is it possible that the words "I love you" haven't the meaning to you that I thought they did. Have you heard me?
It has been days since I last saw you, heard your laugh, kissed your lips, touched your skin. I miss you, truth be told the missing starts after a short time following your departure for your warm, snugly bed and your loving and tender wife. I think of you often during the day. I think of you when I make my coffee, I think of you as I race to open my email and find a note from you that simply says good morning. I think of you when I walk around the park and in traffic when I sit in my car at that stop light, the one that takes forever to change. You are and have been one of the great and true loves of my life and I long for your presence.
How is it that we determine the success or failure of a romantic relationship these days? It seems to me it always has something to do with longevity. That if you are together for that certain amount of time well then, you must have done something right. Honestly, I'm beginning to reevaluate that concept. I happen to know so many marriages that even though they have a decade or more behind them as a couple they are certainly not happy or even functioning together as partners, or even friends. The thought that they can claim success based on the years they have together I think is just short sighted. Conversely, I have known, in the poly realm, romantic attachments that have only lasted several weeks or months or maybe even a year, that in retrospect were very good ones. The people involved grew tremendously as individuals from challenges they faced and they had such an experience of giving and receiving love and affection, the relationship brought new ideas and levels of freedom to them they had not known before.
So, as I'm sitting here writing today, I'm faced with the decision to end a relationship that has been, for the most part the happiest, most fulfilling, challenging, heartbreaking, frustrating, wonderful and loving of my small poly life. I've been overwhelmed with thoughts of failure and remorse at having not made the relationship "successful". But then, in thinking about it, why? Just because we didn't manage to make a year out of it. You know, I read recently that the average poly relationship, outside the primary dyad only lasts six months. Six months! What the heck?! With that in mind I wonder why even try to have a relationship at all. Why not just have a convenient fuck buddy and leave things at that?
Is it the happiness level you feel or the things you've learned or maybe it's the number of dates you get through before you start arguing with each other?
In any case, I wonder. I wonder about the ways in which we choose to express ourselves and our love to each other. I wonder what it is that comforts our hearts when someone we love deeply and intimately just doesn't fit the compatibility mold we have set for ourselves.
How do we measure success relationally?
It has been days since I last saw you, heard your laugh, kissed your lips, touched your skin. I miss you, truth be told the missing starts after a short time following your departure for your warm, snugly bed and your loving and tender wife. I think of you often during the day. I think of you when I make my coffee, I think of you as I race to open my email and find a note from you that simply says good morning. I think of you when I walk around the park and in traffic when I sit in my car at that stop light, the one that takes forever to change. You are and have been one of the great and true loves of my life and I long for your presence.
How is it that we determine the success or failure of a romantic relationship these days? It seems to me it always has something to do with longevity. That if you are together for that certain amount of time well then, you must have done something right. Honestly, I'm beginning to reevaluate that concept. I happen to know so many marriages that even though they have a decade or more behind them as a couple they are certainly not happy or even functioning together as partners, or even friends. The thought that they can claim success based on the years they have together I think is just short sighted. Conversely, I have known, in the poly realm, romantic attachments that have only lasted several weeks or months or maybe even a year, that in retrospect were very good ones. The people involved grew tremendously as individuals from challenges they faced and they had such an experience of giving and receiving love and affection, the relationship brought new ideas and levels of freedom to them they had not known before.
So, as I'm sitting here writing today, I'm faced with the decision to end a relationship that has been, for the most part the happiest, most fulfilling, challenging, heartbreaking, frustrating, wonderful and loving of my small poly life. I've been overwhelmed with thoughts of failure and remorse at having not made the relationship "successful". But then, in thinking about it, why? Just because we didn't manage to make a year out of it. You know, I read recently that the average poly relationship, outside the primary dyad only lasts six months. Six months! What the heck?! With that in mind I wonder why even try to have a relationship at all. Why not just have a convenient fuck buddy and leave things at that?
Is it the happiness level you feel or the things you've learned or maybe it's the number of dates you get through before you start arguing with each other?
In any case, I wonder. I wonder about the ways in which we choose to express ourselves and our love to each other. I wonder what it is that comforts our hearts when someone we love deeply and intimately just doesn't fit the compatibility mold we have set for ourselves.
How do we measure success relationally?
Monday, December 11, 2006
Holy Eros
Jolyon and I have been discussing over the past year the concept of Holy Eros. Put simply sacred sex. Being that we both are Christians always seeking a path to God and not necessarily through a specific religion, we have been curious to discover what this concept means to us personally and as a couple in our marriage particularly as we embrace the concept of polyamory in our life in a practical, everyday lifestyle.
Looking at the root word for Holy used in much of the original Greek and Hebrew texts the word translated most basically means, separate or to set apart. Eros in the Greek as many know is the term for what we now call erotic love, or sex. I appreciate the wisdom of the Greek culture in acquiring seven different words for love in their language. I'm sure they must have an easier time expressing themselves because of it, but that's a separate rant, one that isn't perhaps meant to be Holy.
So, sex that is set apart. Set apart from what? From the rest of sex? Okay, follow that line of thinking. Is that what we would call the difference between fucking and making love to each other? Maybe.
Maybe it's more than that or maybe that's a personal distinction, when you do it you know it kind of thing. For simple presentation on this blog entry let's say it's the concept of making love vs. fucking. Personally I think both have merit, and a place in life. I can say without a doubt that when I am with either Joylon, Jack or Richard it is not making love every time. There are times when both of us know that we are just being the animal within ourselves, hot, sweaty, primal, grabbing, thrusting, feeling physically and not thinking or experiencing anything emotional. It's the overwhelming pleasure of cock and pussy. Period. I know too that there have been times with all three, that there has been a tender affection, a bond of thought and feeling, a connection that transcends the physical bonding of the penis entering the vagina, but of two hearts, two souls combining in that moment to really become one person. They experience briefly, the other in the most vulnerable and intimate way. As I have grown in the last year and had various sexual experiences with several different men and women, I have found an increasing desire for a life filled with Holy Eros. A desire to be in love and for profound affection on all levels. I want deep intimacy, the kind of thing that frightens you and pulls at you all in the same moment. I have decided I don't want to explore outside of the bonds I have already created, at least for now.
Jack and Marianne are swingers and he has discussed with me several times the fun and frolic they both get out of the recreational sex play they engage in. I have no issue with his choice and I truly feel happy for him to be doing something that brings him so much satisfaction. I think about getting my feet wet in that kind of activity sometimes and lately I know that if I did the pleasure would last a short while, perhaps through each orgasm, but afterward I would feel as if I had given something of myself away that I didn't really want to. Like the time I sold Jolyon's favorite bowling shirt at our garage sale. To him, the dollar wasn't comparable to the value he placed on the shirt. I think it would be like that.
Although Richard and Janice tend to be much more conservative than Jack and Marianne, it's not for the same conclusions I have come to. It's not necessarily an emotional attachment that keeps them conservative in their choices.
So I have really come to a conclusion, or I am growing towards one at the very least. I want to be deeply in love with all of my partners, not to love them all equally, which is impossible, that's the paradox of poly, but to be in a bonded state with them emotionally, intellectually and physically. To know that I can freely use sexual pleasure and language to express not just a feeling of physical hunger, but of emotional love, caring, respect and value. I want to keep them in my life highly regarded and keep our love together special, a treasured gift that's offered and received as something other than common.
Enveloped by his body I lay still and felt the passionate beating of my heart, as if it were a bird trapped in a cage. All my senses heightened, with my eyes closed and I could feel the fullness of his hard cock thrusting inside the tender walls of my moist pussy. His hips rocked, his hands grasped at my hair and his breath hot on my neck whispered my name. Lifting my face towards him at that moment, the climax of heat and flame that touches the secret places of our hearts, I opened my eyes and I saw his beautiful face. That face I have come to long for in the darkness of life and living, that nose, that chin and those eyes looking at me, through me with tenderest affection. His body, all his powerful strength, rigid, giving to me that ancient life. Resting now upon my breast and holding each other for an eternal moment.
Holy Eros.
Looking at the root word for Holy used in much of the original Greek and Hebrew texts the word translated most basically means, separate or to set apart. Eros in the Greek as many know is the term for what we now call erotic love, or sex. I appreciate the wisdom of the Greek culture in acquiring seven different words for love in their language. I'm sure they must have an easier time expressing themselves because of it, but that's a separate rant, one that isn't perhaps meant to be Holy.
So, sex that is set apart. Set apart from what? From the rest of sex? Okay, follow that line of thinking. Is that what we would call the difference between fucking and making love to each other? Maybe.
Maybe it's more than that or maybe that's a personal distinction, when you do it you know it kind of thing. For simple presentation on this blog entry let's say it's the concept of making love vs. fucking. Personally I think both have merit, and a place in life. I can say without a doubt that when I am with either Joylon, Jack or Richard it is not making love every time. There are times when both of us know that we are just being the animal within ourselves, hot, sweaty, primal, grabbing, thrusting, feeling physically and not thinking or experiencing anything emotional. It's the overwhelming pleasure of cock and pussy. Period. I know too that there have been times with all three, that there has been a tender affection, a bond of thought and feeling, a connection that transcends the physical bonding of the penis entering the vagina, but of two hearts, two souls combining in that moment to really become one person. They experience briefly, the other in the most vulnerable and intimate way. As I have grown in the last year and had various sexual experiences with several different men and women, I have found an increasing desire for a life filled with Holy Eros. A desire to be in love and for profound affection on all levels. I want deep intimacy, the kind of thing that frightens you and pulls at you all in the same moment. I have decided I don't want to explore outside of the bonds I have already created, at least for now.
Jack and Marianne are swingers and he has discussed with me several times the fun and frolic they both get out of the recreational sex play they engage in. I have no issue with his choice and I truly feel happy for him to be doing something that brings him so much satisfaction. I think about getting my feet wet in that kind of activity sometimes and lately I know that if I did the pleasure would last a short while, perhaps through each orgasm, but afterward I would feel as if I had given something of myself away that I didn't really want to. Like the time I sold Jolyon's favorite bowling shirt at our garage sale. To him, the dollar wasn't comparable to the value he placed on the shirt. I think it would be like that.
Although Richard and Janice tend to be much more conservative than Jack and Marianne, it's not for the same conclusions I have come to. It's not necessarily an emotional attachment that keeps them conservative in their choices.
So I have really come to a conclusion, or I am growing towards one at the very least. I want to be deeply in love with all of my partners, not to love them all equally, which is impossible, that's the paradox of poly, but to be in a bonded state with them emotionally, intellectually and physically. To know that I can freely use sexual pleasure and language to express not just a feeling of physical hunger, but of emotional love, caring, respect and value. I want to keep them in my life highly regarded and keep our love together special, a treasured gift that's offered and received as something other than common.
Enveloped by his body I lay still and felt the passionate beating of my heart, as if it were a bird trapped in a cage. All my senses heightened, with my eyes closed and I could feel the fullness of his hard cock thrusting inside the tender walls of my moist pussy. His hips rocked, his hands grasped at my hair and his breath hot on my neck whispered my name. Lifting my face towards him at that moment, the climax of heat and flame that touches the secret places of our hearts, I opened my eyes and I saw his beautiful face. That face I have come to long for in the darkness of life and living, that nose, that chin and those eyes looking at me, through me with tenderest affection. His body, all his powerful strength, rigid, giving to me that ancient life. Resting now upon my breast and holding each other for an eternal moment.
Holy Eros.
Friday, December 8, 2006
Waffles and Spaghetti
"Perpetual dating is a merry-go-round. That's a ride I'll get on for kicks, it's not one I'll choose to spend a lot of time on, or choose more than once. I get bored, I get off."
Richard and I have had this conversation more than once.There is in poly a term that is used frequently to describe a level of relationship called "perpetual dating". It's exactly as it sounds. You meet a guy or gal that strikes your fancy and you start dating, you meet once a week maybe every other week for dinner, an activity of some kind and sex. Now as the relationship progresses and intimacy builds there is a point at which the relationship naturally can grow beyond this pattern. The couple maybe starts to do things more often, or sees each other for what I call casual contact. They do more and more things together, "family style", than as a dyad and the relationship expands to include more and more of the everyday life. Now in perpetual dating, this evolution, for whatever reason, doesn't take place. Often times the relationship itself proves to be less intimate than each had hoped or boundaries are in place to keep it from growing too far by one or the other or even both of the people involved. So, the status quo is observed week after week; dinner, activity, sex. Dinner activity, sex.
Jolyon ( JOE-lee-un) and I, from the outset of our venture into poly were looking for a relationship/relationships to become more intimately connected with our lives, to be an extension of our family and all that that entails. Our desire wasn't simply to swing or to engage in what is affectionately called in poly circles as "poly-fuckery", but something close to a poly fidelitous quad. God, however, has blessed us with lovers, all very special and all unique, each growing in the ways that they are best suited to.
This leads me, round abouts, to my point. I have been feeling in the last several months a disappointment and frustration at having two separate lives. A life in which we have long term established friends, who love us deeply and are committed to being there for whatever happens to come our way. They are solid, dependable, giving, deeply loving individuals, who happen to be very firmly rooted in a conservative christian religion that would not have the ability to comprehend the road my husband and I have chosen for ourselves. So, they have not met our lovers and we have carefully compartmentalized our life. Waffles.
What I would like, is to turn my waffle into more of a spaghetti dish, everything swimming around on the plate together. I do not necessarily feel the need to announce to the world that we are poly, hence the pseudonyms. However, I would love it if my husband's girlfriend, Janice who happens to be married for more than twenty years to my boyfriend Richard, could both get together with us at family events and parties with our friends. Jack and his wife Marianne, have felt the same desire for sometime, to blend families. Jack and I have exchanged keys to each other's house and pretty much come and go as we please. When Jack and Marianne decided to take a vacation over the summer Jolyon and I spent a night at their house to have some fun with the kids, who by the way, missed their parents. When Jolyon was gone across country for a long weekend a few months ago, I ended up in the ER. Jack sat with me for ten hours that day, he drove me home, put me to bed, made sure my son had dinner and then spent the night, so I wouldn't be alone, just in case I needed anything. I love that. I love that we are growing closer and barriers that were there before are slowly breaking down. Jack and I took a weekend trip out of town together in the fall, just he and I. I LOVE that my husband and Marianne gave us that time for each other. What a precious gift.
I guess what I'm feeling is a need to be a little more consistent, a little more incorporated. I think I would like to start the process of gently folding in the new ingredients to my already thoroughly happy life and try and make sure the mixture as it is now doesn't loose some of it's integrity. How do I do both without destroying something of the other. In other words, how do I make an omelet without breaking any eggs?
*Casual contact: non-date activities, rather everyday errands and chores. i.e. grocery shopping, a quick lunch, getting the car fixed etc...
Dyad: a relationship consiting of a primary two.
Poly- fuckery: low level intimacy, "fuck buddy"
Ploy-fidelitous: relationship that is sexualy closed in whatever form it takes. i.e. a Triad where the three are only having sex within that group of three.
Richard and I have had this conversation more than once.There is in poly a term that is used frequently to describe a level of relationship called "perpetual dating". It's exactly as it sounds. You meet a guy or gal that strikes your fancy and you start dating, you meet once a week maybe every other week for dinner, an activity of some kind and sex. Now as the relationship progresses and intimacy builds there is a point at which the relationship naturally can grow beyond this pattern. The couple maybe starts to do things more often, or sees each other for what I call casual contact. They do more and more things together, "family style", than as a dyad and the relationship expands to include more and more of the everyday life. Now in perpetual dating, this evolution, for whatever reason, doesn't take place. Often times the relationship itself proves to be less intimate than each had hoped or boundaries are in place to keep it from growing too far by one or the other or even both of the people involved. So, the status quo is observed week after week; dinner, activity, sex. Dinner activity, sex.
Jolyon ( JOE-lee-un) and I, from the outset of our venture into poly were looking for a relationship/relationships to become more intimately connected with our lives, to be an extension of our family and all that that entails. Our desire wasn't simply to swing or to engage in what is affectionately called in poly circles as "poly-fuckery", but something close to a poly fidelitous quad. God, however, has blessed us with lovers, all very special and all unique, each growing in the ways that they are best suited to.
This leads me, round abouts, to my point. I have been feeling in the last several months a disappointment and frustration at having two separate lives. A life in which we have long term established friends, who love us deeply and are committed to being there for whatever happens to come our way. They are solid, dependable, giving, deeply loving individuals, who happen to be very firmly rooted in a conservative christian religion that would not have the ability to comprehend the road my husband and I have chosen for ourselves. So, they have not met our lovers and we have carefully compartmentalized our life. Waffles.
What I would like, is to turn my waffle into more of a spaghetti dish, everything swimming around on the plate together. I do not necessarily feel the need to announce to the world that we are poly, hence the pseudonyms. However, I would love it if my husband's girlfriend, Janice who happens to be married for more than twenty years to my boyfriend Richard, could both get together with us at family events and parties with our friends. Jack and his wife Marianne, have felt the same desire for sometime, to blend families. Jack and I have exchanged keys to each other's house and pretty much come and go as we please. When Jack and Marianne decided to take a vacation over the summer Jolyon and I spent a night at their house to have some fun with the kids, who by the way, missed their parents. When Jolyon was gone across country for a long weekend a few months ago, I ended up in the ER. Jack sat with me for ten hours that day, he drove me home, put me to bed, made sure my son had dinner and then spent the night, so I wouldn't be alone, just in case I needed anything. I love that. I love that we are growing closer and barriers that were there before are slowly breaking down. Jack and I took a weekend trip out of town together in the fall, just he and I. I LOVE that my husband and Marianne gave us that time for each other. What a precious gift.
I guess what I'm feeling is a need to be a little more consistent, a little more incorporated. I think I would like to start the process of gently folding in the new ingredients to my already thoroughly happy life and try and make sure the mixture as it is now doesn't loose some of it's integrity. How do I do both without destroying something of the other. In other words, how do I make an omelet without breaking any eggs?
*Casual contact: non-date activities, rather everyday errands and chores. i.e. grocery shopping, a quick lunch, getting the car fixed etc...
Dyad: a relationship consiting of a primary two.
Poly- fuckery: low level intimacy, "fuck buddy"
Ploy-fidelitous: relationship that is sexualy closed in whatever form it takes. i.e. a Triad where the three are only having sex within that group of three.
Wednesday, December 6, 2006
The Theory of Relativity
Well, as I was wandering the cyber community yesterday I happened upon a great article written by Tom Paine over at Polyamorously Perverse on Sex and Aging. I would link you to it if I could figure out how this stupid bit of technology works, but it's worth a look see if you get a chance.
What struck me about it was not necessarily the results of aging on an older libido but the chord that sounded in me when I started thinking of how much I prefer older men to those of my own age or younger. Being a tad self analytical I can tell you my penchant has it's roots firmly planted in some aspect of my relationship with my father, although I didn't know it until I started dating outside of my marriage. I didn't purposefully choose older men for relationships but the men that seemingly turn me on the most do happen to be older. Is that coincidence? I don't think so. Tom mentions in his posting that older men in general have a holistic approach to sex, which I can add testimony to. My two significant other's are very much that way and though they wouldn't go so far as to say they are "older men", they are older than me. Richard and Jack both seem to get turned on by the whole experience, from the first sexy email of our date night, to dinner, cuddling, stroking, kissing (lots and lots of kissing) even foreplay and after play. Many men of my age (thirty something) and younger seem to get so caught up in the "goal" they forget to enjoy the game. I mean I love a good, solid, bend me over the bed, fuck. What has been my experience though, is that older men not only can go a lot longer, they want to. They tend to be more sensuous and present in the moment.
I admit freely I have a thing for John Wayne. It's my "Duke" syndrome. I have a reoccurring fantasy of a tall, rugged, older man, who's confident and commanding approaches me slides a massive rough hand to the nape of my neck and gets a handful of long hair and just pulls. Not the I'm gonna rip your hair out pull but the "I'm in charge", bend my head back slightly and kiss me thoroughly kind of thing. Like that moment when Rhett has had enough and grabs Scarlett and carries her off to bed. An older man could do that for me, I can feel a wetness between my thighs just writing it. His full weight on top of me, holding an arm down by the wrist, looking into my eyes completely decisive in his actions. Lifting me from this position to that, devouring my body as if he's hungry for my satisfaction as much as his... Mmmm...
Now for all of Jack and Richard's comments about not having the stamina, hardness or recovery time they did twenty years ago, I'm so impressed with their current talents I would be hard pressed to know anything was amiss had they not mentioned it. I am completely convinced older men have such a wealth of experience and style to share I would gladly choose a man much older than me every time. So, my point I guess is simply older men just know how to fuck, from start to finish and if you've not had the experience I think once you do you'll never go back.
Keep it up Tom. No, REALLY...
Keep IT up.
What struck me about it was not necessarily the results of aging on an older libido but the chord that sounded in me when I started thinking of how much I prefer older men to those of my own age or younger. Being a tad self analytical I can tell you my penchant has it's roots firmly planted in some aspect of my relationship with my father, although I didn't know it until I started dating outside of my marriage. I didn't purposefully choose older men for relationships but the men that seemingly turn me on the most do happen to be older. Is that coincidence? I don't think so. Tom mentions in his posting that older men in general have a holistic approach to sex, which I can add testimony to. My two significant other's are very much that way and though they wouldn't go so far as to say they are "older men", they are older than me. Richard and Jack both seem to get turned on by the whole experience, from the first sexy email of our date night, to dinner, cuddling, stroking, kissing (lots and lots of kissing) even foreplay and after play. Many men of my age (thirty something) and younger seem to get so caught up in the "goal" they forget to enjoy the game. I mean I love a good, solid, bend me over the bed, fuck. What has been my experience though, is that older men not only can go a lot longer, they want to. They tend to be more sensuous and present in the moment.
I admit freely I have a thing for John Wayne. It's my "Duke" syndrome. I have a reoccurring fantasy of a tall, rugged, older man, who's confident and commanding approaches me slides a massive rough hand to the nape of my neck and gets a handful of long hair and just pulls. Not the I'm gonna rip your hair out pull but the "I'm in charge", bend my head back slightly and kiss me thoroughly kind of thing. Like that moment when Rhett has had enough and grabs Scarlett and carries her off to bed. An older man could do that for me, I can feel a wetness between my thighs just writing it. His full weight on top of me, holding an arm down by the wrist, looking into my eyes completely decisive in his actions. Lifting me from this position to that, devouring my body as if he's hungry for my satisfaction as much as his... Mmmm...
Now for all of Jack and Richard's comments about not having the stamina, hardness or recovery time they did twenty years ago, I'm so impressed with their current talents I would be hard pressed to know anything was amiss had they not mentioned it. I am completely convinced older men have such a wealth of experience and style to share I would gladly choose a man much older than me every time. So, my point I guess is simply older men just know how to fuck, from start to finish and if you've not had the experience I think once you do you'll never go back.
Keep it up Tom. No, REALLY...
Keep IT up.
Monday, December 4, 2006
Learning to Self Soothe
"Spinning, laughing, dancing to
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone
Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
that comes along
Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound
Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own
Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone"
Seven Years, Nora Jones
For whatever reason the last two or three days have been a challenge for me. I'm feeling a bit insecure, sad, lonely, you name it. The interesting thing is that I had thought in entering poly and gaining additional deep, romantic, intimate relationships I wouldn't fight this battle any longer. Well, you know on one hand that can sound silly and you have to admit on the other it sounds like a logical conclusion, or at least I thought so.
I have, in my life struggled at times with feeling very separated from others, as if there is a glass that keeps me from intimacy with those I love. I get that vision in my mind of the inmate in prison who, upon receiving a visit from a loved one instantly reaches out to touch the hand of the other pressed against the glass, as if they could feel what is seen. The mind makes you think there's a connection, but there is not. It's instinctual, I think, that need to physically touch another we feel close to. I know for me personally, because I've had an above average sex drive, the need to make love with my partners is as necessary to me as eating. I feel from week to week as if I'm starving and after gaining the closeness of sex I always feel better. Even when we are having problems, if we can make love with each other, if I can feel them inside me, whatever is bothering me seems smaller some how.
Richard and I have a remarkable sex life. One that I've not ever experienced before in my life. I can't explain why, honestly I think we are both at a loss to figure it out. There's a chemistry when we touch that is electric, its fireworks, flame and heat and gluttony and desperation. It's beyond satisfying. When I go for a long time (more than say ten days) without that connection with him I get antsy, I feel irritable and snappish with him, then as we do come together at the moment of orgasm I usually cry, I cry hard. It's like a wave of relief that overwhelms my senses and my mind shuts off for a second. Why is that? I don't know.
Jack and I have wonderful sex too. There is a closeness I feel with him like he's a part of me, that we become the same person. I find when I haven't had the opportunity to connect with him I get mopey and insecure and sad. I start feeling as if there's something really important missing in my life. My heart feels a little longing, like a string pulling me toward him. Why is that? I don't know.
My husband, Jolyon, and I have the best sex together. It's the kind of sex you get after being married as long as we have. Not just that, but the fact that we were each other’s firsts, first loves, first consensual sex, we were 17 and 19, so we've grown up together. We've become not only adults together, raised children together, built a life together, but we've become and discovered our sexual selves together. Evolved if you will over the years together, like a tree with a honeysuckle vine growing around and over it. It's magical, it's ethereal, it's sharing the same soul and feeding each other in a way and in places that no other human being can reach out to. When we don't make love for a while I feel lost, I feel terribly and inconsolably alone. A type of separateness that eats at the core of my being. Why is that? I don't know.
So, in retrospect I thought that poly, or having multiple relationships, would make it easier to soothe the depression I sometimes feel. I thought, "Well hey there's more opportunity, there's more energy to tap into." Funny how that doesn't seem to make a difference for me. I mean the level of friendship is a help and having more people in your life who love you is never a bad thing. I guess what I'm realizing is that what I need to do is learn how to make myself feel better and not rely on someone else to do it for me. They are not responsible, no matter how close we are, for my happiness. I am. I really and truly need to learn, intrinsically, to self soothe.
I'm feeling needy today. I'm wanting to reach out to my husband and my lovers to make it better, but I'm going to try and be okay where I am and be myself.
her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
Is all alone
Eyes wide open
Always hoping for the sun
And she'll sing her song to anyone
that comes along
Fragile as a leaf in autumn
Just fallin' to the ground
Without a sound
Crooked little smile on her face
Tells a tale of grace
That's all her own
Spinning, laughing, dancing to her favorite song
A little girl with nothing wrong
And she's all alone"
Seven Years, Nora Jones
For whatever reason the last two or three days have been a challenge for me. I'm feeling a bit insecure, sad, lonely, you name it. The interesting thing is that I had thought in entering poly and gaining additional deep, romantic, intimate relationships I wouldn't fight this battle any longer. Well, you know on one hand that can sound silly and you have to admit on the other it sounds like a logical conclusion, or at least I thought so.
I have, in my life struggled at times with feeling very separated from others, as if there is a glass that keeps me from intimacy with those I love. I get that vision in my mind of the inmate in prison who, upon receiving a visit from a loved one instantly reaches out to touch the hand of the other pressed against the glass, as if they could feel what is seen. The mind makes you think there's a connection, but there is not. It's instinctual, I think, that need to physically touch another we feel close to. I know for me personally, because I've had an above average sex drive, the need to make love with my partners is as necessary to me as eating. I feel from week to week as if I'm starving and after gaining the closeness of sex I always feel better. Even when we are having problems, if we can make love with each other, if I can feel them inside me, whatever is bothering me seems smaller some how.
Richard and I have a remarkable sex life. One that I've not ever experienced before in my life. I can't explain why, honestly I think we are both at a loss to figure it out. There's a chemistry when we touch that is electric, its fireworks, flame and heat and gluttony and desperation. It's beyond satisfying. When I go for a long time (more than say ten days) without that connection with him I get antsy, I feel irritable and snappish with him, then as we do come together at the moment of orgasm I usually cry, I cry hard. It's like a wave of relief that overwhelms my senses and my mind shuts off for a second. Why is that? I don't know.
Jack and I have wonderful sex too. There is a closeness I feel with him like he's a part of me, that we become the same person. I find when I haven't had the opportunity to connect with him I get mopey and insecure and sad. I start feeling as if there's something really important missing in my life. My heart feels a little longing, like a string pulling me toward him. Why is that? I don't know.
My husband, Jolyon, and I have the best sex together. It's the kind of sex you get after being married as long as we have. Not just that, but the fact that we were each other’s firsts, first loves, first consensual sex, we were 17 and 19, so we've grown up together. We've become not only adults together, raised children together, built a life together, but we've become and discovered our sexual selves together. Evolved if you will over the years together, like a tree with a honeysuckle vine growing around and over it. It's magical, it's ethereal, it's sharing the same soul and feeding each other in a way and in places that no other human being can reach out to. When we don't make love for a while I feel lost, I feel terribly and inconsolably alone. A type of separateness that eats at the core of my being. Why is that? I don't know.
So, in retrospect I thought that poly, or having multiple relationships, would make it easier to soothe the depression I sometimes feel. I thought, "Well hey there's more opportunity, there's more energy to tap into." Funny how that doesn't seem to make a difference for me. I mean the level of friendship is a help and having more people in your life who love you is never a bad thing. I guess what I'm realizing is that what I need to do is learn how to make myself feel better and not rely on someone else to do it for me. They are not responsible, no matter how close we are, for my happiness. I am. I really and truly need to learn, intrinsically, to self soothe.
I'm feeling needy today. I'm wanting to reach out to my husband and my lovers to make it better, but I'm going to try and be okay where I am and be myself.
Sunday, December 3, 2006
Missionary Misnomer
"There is a common belief that the term "missionary position" arose in response to teachings by Christian missionaries that this sex position was the only "proper" way to engage in sexual intercourse. This is in fact a myth. The reality is that the term probably originated some time between 1945 and 1965 through a confluence of (apparently honest) misunderstandings and misinterpretations of historical documents."
Wikipedia
It’s a strange thing to me that I should, after all this time still prefer the missionary position. I mean after all, it’s so archaic, some would say boring. Maybe that’s the core of it right there. Boring. I hate that word, more than that I just hate the perception of being that way. It’s been a strange and full sexual life and you would think that I might come to appreciate some awkward, pinching stance like something from Cirque de Soleil. I was thinking about this very thing the last time I was with Jack and it occurred to me that my penchant for the bottom has its roots firmly grounded in my childhood along some Freudian line of thinking. I just love the surrender of it all. The feeling of the masculine weight on top of me, the face to face contact, being held tightly looking up into eyes alight with passion or love and sometimes when I’m lucky, both together. That doesn’t happen as often as you might think given the lifestyle choices I’ve made.
I wonder sometimes at my life and how I’ve arrived at this place. I suppose we all do at sometime or another and looking back I can see clearly the pieces falling into place but two years ago I couldn’t have told you I would be here, married twenty some years, several lovers, three children almost grown and not yet forty. I’m hopelessly average you see. Really. I could be your neighbor, your co-worker, the volunteer you know on the PTA or heaven forbid your child’s Sunday school teacher. Yeah, you heard me, Sunday school. My darling husband, the love of my life, soul mate all that romanticism bullshit is a prominent member of our local church family. A conservative congregation that wouldn’t take kindly to the story I’m about to tell. So, you ask, why tell it? Good question.
I think the answer has good deal in common with the missionary position. Life isn’t always what we expect it to be, sometimes the more outlandish we imagine it in our mind’s eye the more we see the qualities and characteristics of lives that have lived for generations never having been noticed, just like that girl you know, who happens to live next door.
And so it goes...
Wikipedia
It’s a strange thing to me that I should, after all this time still prefer the missionary position. I mean after all, it’s so archaic, some would say boring. Maybe that’s the core of it right there. Boring. I hate that word, more than that I just hate the perception of being that way. It’s been a strange and full sexual life and you would think that I might come to appreciate some awkward, pinching stance like something from Cirque de Soleil. I was thinking about this very thing the last time I was with Jack and it occurred to me that my penchant for the bottom has its roots firmly grounded in my childhood along some Freudian line of thinking. I just love the surrender of it all. The feeling of the masculine weight on top of me, the face to face contact, being held tightly looking up into eyes alight with passion or love and sometimes when I’m lucky, both together. That doesn’t happen as often as you might think given the lifestyle choices I’ve made.
I wonder sometimes at my life and how I’ve arrived at this place. I suppose we all do at sometime or another and looking back I can see clearly the pieces falling into place but two years ago I couldn’t have told you I would be here, married twenty some years, several lovers, three children almost grown and not yet forty. I’m hopelessly average you see. Really. I could be your neighbor, your co-worker, the volunteer you know on the PTA or heaven forbid your child’s Sunday school teacher. Yeah, you heard me, Sunday school. My darling husband, the love of my life, soul mate all that romanticism bullshit is a prominent member of our local church family. A conservative congregation that wouldn’t take kindly to the story I’m about to tell. So, you ask, why tell it? Good question.
I think the answer has good deal in common with the missionary position. Life isn’t always what we expect it to be, sometimes the more outlandish we imagine it in our mind’s eye the more we see the qualities and characteristics of lives that have lived for generations never having been noticed, just like that girl you know, who happens to live next door.
And so it goes...
Saturday, December 2, 2006
A Rose by any other Name
Carefully consider the use of labels in any relationship you form, be it poly or mono.
The use of labels can for some be a comfort and a way to define for themselves how they fit into their environment, how they move in their part of the world, how they see themselves. For others labels simply are a representation of bondage. A form of slavery that keeps them from the freedom of change, diversity and the need to be an individual. I think for my part I fall somewhere in the middle. Personally, I find labels useful in the matter of communicating. Language fascinates me and the use of words to convey ideas and feelings; to express what's deeply buried inside one's self is like creating the perfect building from the ground up. I need to use certain labels to get my listener to understand the correct way I prefer to lay a foundation. Which you can admit is a critical point.
There is in the poly community a great deal of emotion attached to some of the labels thrown around in conversation and I have found that it helps to sit down with each person involved and talk to each other about perceived meanings of words used in determining guidelines and boundaries of each relationship. Make sure you are on the same page and the term secondary or tertiary mean the same to all of you before you start laying it out there like a quality Persian rug only to have the dog piss on it later.
Case in point, when I first started my relationship with Jack* we had many heated conversations about my being a secondary relationship, that was in actuality making me third in line. Third in time spent, third in energy expended etc... Jack, who is one of the sweetest most deeply loving and committed men of my acquaintance, insisted that he loved all of his relationships the same or "equally". I found this point of view ridiculous, and I told him so. You see Jack at the time not only had a solid primary relationship; a wife of more than twenty years, he also had a deep emotional relationship with a secondary that took precedence over me, a new involvement. He would say to me most earnestly, "Don't you love all three of your children with the same love?" This, if you are new to poly, will be an argument you are likely to hear quite a bit. My response, because I rarely hide my emotion is something like, "Horse shit." Personally I do love my children with the same type of familial love, however there is a great difference in expression, connection and attachment with each. They are each special and I'm devoted to them as individuals but those of us who have multiple children probably have noticed a difference in the way you relate to each one as such.
I was sitting with Jack one afternoon after a particularly tough week and as we were snuggled down into my bed with our shoes kicked off, I had hoped we would be fooling around soon, he mentioned to me that my love for Richard* made him uneasy. He was jealous. He had the courage to admit it to me and we talked about why he was feeling it. The guilt of saying out loud something that shamed him brought tears to his eyes. Jack, it should be noted, is an energetic, outdoorsy kind of man. He's intelligent, articulate, good with his hands, industrious, curious, passionate and emotional. We are pretty much almost the same person. We read each other's minds, speak the same language, finish each other's sentences, we are kindred spirits.
So, lying there, holding him, kissing lightly his forehead I felt compassion and a deep love for him, I wanted to protect him. From what?
From the labels we in poly use too lightly.
From the honesty of words that would unduly inflict deeper wounds into a sensitive soft heart that was open to me, vulnerable to me in that moment. That was one of the most difficult conversations I've experienced in my life and I hear you, I hear you asking, "Why then? Why do you choose that lifestyle?" I guess my answer is cliché. The good outweighs the bad. The reward of trust, intimacy, love, friendship, romance and yeah, fantastic, unbridled, passionate sex is worth the tough conversations, the hurt feelings and the uncomfortable social situations. I have grown as a person. I have gained a greater understanding not only of love but of how to PRACTICE love everyday in a very real way.
I love Jack; I love Jack enough to want him ever present in my life for a long, long time. Jack is a secondary, there are boundaries that that label creates, or rather that the relationship itself has created. Sometimes poly can suck but only because sometimes relationships can suck and really that's only because in general, life itself can suck. It can be beautiful too. I have courage, do you?
*Names in this blog will be changed to save the identities of actual people involved.
The use of labels can for some be a comfort and a way to define for themselves how they fit into their environment, how they move in their part of the world, how they see themselves. For others labels simply are a representation of bondage. A form of slavery that keeps them from the freedom of change, diversity and the need to be an individual. I think for my part I fall somewhere in the middle. Personally, I find labels useful in the matter of communicating. Language fascinates me and the use of words to convey ideas and feelings; to express what's deeply buried inside one's self is like creating the perfect building from the ground up. I need to use certain labels to get my listener to understand the correct way I prefer to lay a foundation. Which you can admit is a critical point.
There is in the poly community a great deal of emotion attached to some of the labels thrown around in conversation and I have found that it helps to sit down with each person involved and talk to each other about perceived meanings of words used in determining guidelines and boundaries of each relationship. Make sure you are on the same page and the term secondary or tertiary mean the same to all of you before you start laying it out there like a quality Persian rug only to have the dog piss on it later.
Case in point, when I first started my relationship with Jack* we had many heated conversations about my being a secondary relationship, that was in actuality making me third in line. Third in time spent, third in energy expended etc... Jack, who is one of the sweetest most deeply loving and committed men of my acquaintance, insisted that he loved all of his relationships the same or "equally". I found this point of view ridiculous, and I told him so. You see Jack at the time not only had a solid primary relationship; a wife of more than twenty years, he also had a deep emotional relationship with a secondary that took precedence over me, a new involvement. He would say to me most earnestly, "Don't you love all three of your children with the same love?" This, if you are new to poly, will be an argument you are likely to hear quite a bit. My response, because I rarely hide my emotion is something like, "Horse shit." Personally I do love my children with the same type of familial love, however there is a great difference in expression, connection and attachment with each. They are each special and I'm devoted to them as individuals but those of us who have multiple children probably have noticed a difference in the way you relate to each one as such.
I was sitting with Jack one afternoon after a particularly tough week and as we were snuggled down into my bed with our shoes kicked off, I had hoped we would be fooling around soon, he mentioned to me that my love for Richard* made him uneasy. He was jealous. He had the courage to admit it to me and we talked about why he was feeling it. The guilt of saying out loud something that shamed him brought tears to his eyes. Jack, it should be noted, is an energetic, outdoorsy kind of man. He's intelligent, articulate, good with his hands, industrious, curious, passionate and emotional. We are pretty much almost the same person. We read each other's minds, speak the same language, finish each other's sentences, we are kindred spirits.
So, lying there, holding him, kissing lightly his forehead I felt compassion and a deep love for him, I wanted to protect him. From what?
From the labels we in poly use too lightly.
From the honesty of words that would unduly inflict deeper wounds into a sensitive soft heart that was open to me, vulnerable to me in that moment. That was one of the most difficult conversations I've experienced in my life and I hear you, I hear you asking, "Why then? Why do you choose that lifestyle?" I guess my answer is cliché. The good outweighs the bad. The reward of trust, intimacy, love, friendship, romance and yeah, fantastic, unbridled, passionate sex is worth the tough conversations, the hurt feelings and the uncomfortable social situations. I have grown as a person. I have gained a greater understanding not only of love but of how to PRACTICE love everyday in a very real way.
I love Jack; I love Jack enough to want him ever present in my life for a long, long time. Jack is a secondary, there are boundaries that that label creates, or rather that the relationship itself has created. Sometimes poly can suck but only because sometimes relationships can suck and really that's only because in general, life itself can suck. It can be beautiful too. I have courage, do you?
*Names in this blog will be changed to save the identities of actual people involved.
Friday, December 1, 2006
Stepping Out or maybe Stepping Away
I've thought quite a bit recently about my life.
At my age I supose it's natural. I would like to think as I'm sure a great many do, that my life has been just a little bit extrordinary but I wonder if that isn't like being just a little bit pregnant.
So, what has got me to thinking I need to have a diary? Well, let's say just one word, Polyamory.
You see, I am a middle class, white American female, married now just over twenty years (no lie), I have three great kids all somewhat normal and in various stages of maturity, I go to church, I volunteer at school, I shop and garden and lunch with my girlfriends. I'm of average height, average body style, average beauty. My IQ scores tell me I'm above average in intelligence but who's really to say. I bake cookies for my elderly neighbor, I drive too fast, I sometimes go through the express line with more than fifteen items, I've waited in line at Starbucks for twenty minutes to get a latte. I'm just like you, in so many ways I really am just like you. I live a wonderful, sometimes boring, middle class life.
Did I mention I have two lovers?
That my husband has a girlfriend?
That I'm Bi-sexual and have my eye on a woman I would love to date?
Yeah, that's the part that gets people everytime. Jaws drop open, there's generally lots of blinking like when the motor in your car won't start so you keep cranking the ignition. What does the average person say to that?
Well, it's my intention to help you and me have a better understanding of Polyamory; what it is, why we live it and how we manage, through the wonderful world of blogging.
First of all let's start with a little vocabulary.
My husband and I are partners for life. We are deeply in love, the best of friends and committed to staying together 'til death do us part. Our relationship is often reffered to as a Primary relationship. I know already you have lots of questions. How can we love eachother and be intimate with others? I'll get to that, right now let's just understand the language.
Now defining our other relationships can be tricky but let's keep it basic for now. My lovers because they share a good part of my life and because we have a strong committment to eachother, as does my husband and his girlfriend, they can be reffered to as Secondary relationships.
I also have a few friends with whom every once in a while I get together and we fool around. There is a varying degree of love involved, but not the same level of committment as our secondaries. These are called Tertiary relationships.
There are other words you should know as well like NRE, which isn't a word but it's a term I'll use pretty often. It stands for New Relationship Energy. It's a volitle mix of chemicals that attack the brain for a certain period of time, making you feel high, and reverting you back to the years when you were young and innocent about love and people and life in general. In other words you loose some common sense. Also, you'll need to know the term Quad, as reffering to a foursome of lovers, a Triad reffering to a threesome of lovers and last but not least Compersion. "Compersion is love manifested when a person takes joy in his or her loved one's happiness with another person. It is a form of empathy; that is, pleasure that a loved one is experiencing a good thing in his or her life. It need not be sexual." This definition I took from Wikipedia. It has a great section on Polyamory if you as a reader are interested in gaining more information.
So, by now, you are scratching your head, have lots of questions and concerns for the future of society and probably think America is certainly going to hell in a handbasket. This could be true, but whether or not your average, middle american neighbors are living an alternative lifestyle might not have as much to do with it as you think. Remember I did say I want to learn too. Part of the reason I'm writing in such a format is to explore my feelings and choices as I embark on a new stage of my life. The "whys" and the "hows" are not always easy answers, I have found in the last two years of actively living poly that sometimes there just aren't answers. As a person who likes to problem solve and fix things, that's a tough pill to swallow. I'm learning as I go and I though you might like to ride shotgun on this bumpy, roadtrip called LOVE.
At my age I supose it's natural. I would like to think as I'm sure a great many do, that my life has been just a little bit extrordinary but I wonder if that isn't like being just a little bit pregnant.
So, what has got me to thinking I need to have a diary? Well, let's say just one word, Polyamory.
You see, I am a middle class, white American female, married now just over twenty years (no lie), I have three great kids all somewhat normal and in various stages of maturity, I go to church, I volunteer at school, I shop and garden and lunch with my girlfriends. I'm of average height, average body style, average beauty. My IQ scores tell me I'm above average in intelligence but who's really to say. I bake cookies for my elderly neighbor, I drive too fast, I sometimes go through the express line with more than fifteen items, I've waited in line at Starbucks for twenty minutes to get a latte. I'm just like you, in so many ways I really am just like you. I live a wonderful, sometimes boring, middle class life.
Did I mention I have two lovers?
That my husband has a girlfriend?
That I'm Bi-sexual and have my eye on a woman I would love to date?
Yeah, that's the part that gets people everytime. Jaws drop open, there's generally lots of blinking like when the motor in your car won't start so you keep cranking the ignition. What does the average person say to that?
Well, it's my intention to help you and me have a better understanding of Polyamory; what it is, why we live it and how we manage, through the wonderful world of blogging.
First of all let's start with a little vocabulary.
My husband and I are partners for life. We are deeply in love, the best of friends and committed to staying together 'til death do us part. Our relationship is often reffered to as a Primary relationship. I know already you have lots of questions. How can we love eachother and be intimate with others? I'll get to that, right now let's just understand the language.
Now defining our other relationships can be tricky but let's keep it basic for now. My lovers because they share a good part of my life and because we have a strong committment to eachother, as does my husband and his girlfriend, they can be reffered to as Secondary relationships.
I also have a few friends with whom every once in a while I get together and we fool around. There is a varying degree of love involved, but not the same level of committment as our secondaries. These are called Tertiary relationships.
There are other words you should know as well like NRE, which isn't a word but it's a term I'll use pretty often. It stands for New Relationship Energy. It's a volitle mix of chemicals that attack the brain for a certain period of time, making you feel high, and reverting you back to the years when you were young and innocent about love and people and life in general. In other words you loose some common sense. Also, you'll need to know the term Quad, as reffering to a foursome of lovers, a Triad reffering to a threesome of lovers and last but not least Compersion. "Compersion is love manifested when a person takes joy in his or her loved one's happiness with another person. It is a form of empathy; that is, pleasure that a loved one is experiencing a good thing in his or her life. It need not be sexual." This definition I took from Wikipedia. It has a great section on Polyamory if you as a reader are interested in gaining more information.
So, by now, you are scratching your head, have lots of questions and concerns for the future of society and probably think America is certainly going to hell in a handbasket. This could be true, but whether or not your average, middle american neighbors are living an alternative lifestyle might not have as much to do with it as you think. Remember I did say I want to learn too. Part of the reason I'm writing in such a format is to explore my feelings and choices as I embark on a new stage of my life. The "whys" and the "hows" are not always easy answers, I have found in the last two years of actively living poly that sometimes there just aren't answers. As a person who likes to problem solve and fix things, that's a tough pill to swallow. I'm learning as I go and I though you might like to ride shotgun on this bumpy, roadtrip called LOVE.
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