Someone To Watch Over Me....

The ad I run on the kinky website is superlative. I say that not only because I can become occasionally enamored of my own posts, but because women write to say I've articulated what they've always felt and men write saying "Like you, I have no interest in long distance, but wow--you're going to make some man very lucky." A co-owner of the local S&M club contacted me, and he has many more-experienced women, but clearly my ad intrigued him.

Unfortunately, it is a double-edged sword--a man last week was 'shocked' I would say 'slow down.' He was edging perilously close to cybering, and I want someone in flesh and blood. Cybering might be great for someone you already loved who was away, but for me it would only ever be for that. But then he earnestly exclaimed "But I feel like I've known you my whole life, I've been searching for you my whole life, you are my lost half." Which may have been a line, but I believe it has a kernel of truth to it (especially as he then deleted his profile from the site). The problem, of course, is that I didn't feel like I knew him at all. He knew me from my ad--his was 3 sentences.

But this one man, John, this gem of a human. We haven't met yet, and I don't allow myself to fall for men I haven't met. It is foolish (and look what happened the last time I fell for a man, and I'd met him!). Nevertheless, as Joni Mitchell might say "Help me, I think I'm falling..."

I look up to him, a rarity for me. For several years I've attempted to convince myself that I don't have to look up to a man because there are so few that I honestly look up to. I didn't respect the choices my ex was making, and that, fundamentally, is one of the 2 reasons we had to break up (the other is that his erotic mind craved all darkness and I thrive on an interplay between darkness and tenderness). I believe that this inability to look up to most men is egotistical, obnoxious, and self-centered. So I tried to wish it out of existence. Problem, though is that it is true.

John, is so clearly smarter than me, which I adore. (If he didn't appreciate my mind, it would be problematic, but he does.) As we talk, I'm learning things about myself. The quality of our conversations is like nothing I've ever seen. I've never met a man who could match me on that level. If we do hit it off, well, I think we could compile our e-mails into a book. He has only recently come to terms with wiitwd, and I still have much angst. But the angst on both sides is linked to some of the fundamental philosophical questions plaguing gen Xers, the interplay of sexuality and power, of what Eros looks like for both of us.

He had me do one small thing for him last night, and it was a complete surrender. And much of my protective defenses melted in that moment. All of which terrifies me. But his tenderness, his cherishment (is that a word?), his care. Maybe I'm just being a silly girl, but once again, this is worth risking the possibility of getting hurt.

The one strength I've developed in the last few months is the ability to open up to someone, get hurt, accept that, and move on without allowing pieces of emotional armour to ensnare their way into and around my heart. I seem to open more and more with each connection and loss. I don't know how or where that strength is coming from. In the past, I believed I could only open myself up to a limited number of men before it made me hard and bitter, but now it feels like I'm opening more deeply with each person, allowing myself not to run from the emotional pain, and letting go of any recriminations. Compared to my past declarations that "I'm strong"--this is a very different strength. This strength to be vulnerable is an energy that I find enriching. The only cost is allowing myself to feel the pain fully in the present moment.