Over my Head?

So my ex and I have been hanging out more. Lovely evening last week. He took me to the restaurant I've always wanted to go to, and dropped numerous hints the entire time we lived together, but we never went. It is in a park, and we sat outside and had a lovely meal.

And then he said he didn't want to come over to my place. He said we either need to figure out if we're on the path to getting married, or if we just want to hang as buddies, but no more fooling around.

He also said, he had the conversation with himself about 'having another kid wouldn't be that bad.'

And he said "I can't have it on my conscious that I kept the love of my life from having kids."

Furthermore, he said he wouldn't be so selfish in the future, regardless of whether he got back together with me. He had this idea of D/s, but he has been doing more research, and he doesn't think anyone is able to actually make D/s work with his previous idea of it. That the Dom has to really take care of the sub's needs, not just except the sub's needs to disappear.

So. Whoa. And Wow. I don't know what I think or feel. First I'm touched and flattered he would even, in passing, call me the love of his life. I joked it off, but it meant a lot.

But I need to figure out what I want so I'm not using him, but I'm too confused to know what I want. I know that I enjoy being with him as friends. And I enjoy waking up in his arms. And for the last month, he really has been different with me. But I don't know that we've ever had great sex. At least for me. I know we have for him. But not me. We click intellectually, and that's a lot. I think I could fall for him again, if I let myself, but I have been very wary to do that.

So then we slept together last night. Sex, sex. Not just oral sex. And, again, he was lovely. Cherishing, adoring, tender, rough, demanding--all the good stuff rolled into one.

And after he left for work, I went back to bed. And had a dream about Michael. It wasn't even a good dream. He was dating a woman from Texas, but sort of wanted to check in with me to see how I was doing. But it wasn't like "drop everything--I realized I do want to be with you." And walking through the park today I went by a set of swings that Michael and I played on, and I could feel this sort of stab to my heart. I don't know how to let him go. I know I must. I know that if he were truly interested in me, he wouldn't e-mail, say "Let's go out for dinner and drinks" and then not e-mail for a week, then another e-mail a week later, then nothing for 2 weeks. A man that is interested in a woman, well he doesn't do that. But I don't understand why I'm still emotionally sticky towards him.

Part of it is that I'm still defended against my ex. He woke me up in the middle of the night to have sex a second time, and he was rough and demanding and it hurt and I remembered one of the reasons we broke up. I can't just let go and be with my ex as he is right now, without being suspicious that he will go back to how he was.

And maybe I'm just using Michael as a symbol of what I can't have. Maybe I'll never be satisfied with the possible. Or maybe I'm using Michael to not get in too deep with my ex. How knows. But somehow, I thought, we might end up together. I don't know why I adored him so much, or how to let that go. Part of me wants to e-mail him and just have it out with him. Not have a loose end. I hate loose ends.

But, maybe, just being with me ex, curling up in his arms, kisses and cuddles and conversations. Those will build. I'm sure of it. I'm much less reluctant now than I was. So who knows.

All you've got to do is ask me.

I was writing a post about beauty and aging, and how I'm far more concerned about holding onto the vestiges of my youth than I ever thought I would be. And then I took a break to go to the CD release party for Passing Strange (If you are going to take my advice on anything, run to see Passing Strange before it closes on Sunday, buy the CD on Tuesday and get the Spike Lee DVD that will be coming out in a year or two--the best new American art in the last few years) and I just started to wonder--how did I turn into this? What made me so cynical? So focused on playing the dating game? So willing to buy into a culture that I don't believe in?

There seems to be this giant chasm of regret that I never found someone who loved me. Steven loved me, but not enough to want me. There were several men I've loved. But none loved me back. And I'm scared that there never will be anyone. And I have so much I would love to give someone. I know: a cliche from the 1950s. But true, none the less.

I'm staying with a friend who lives at the end of the line, and taking the subway home (at 1:30 in the morning, by myself--and they say I'm not a New Yorker!), I was listening to one of the songs I'd downloaded from their website:

Now you are knee deep in your head's footnotes.

Is there a better description for me and my blog? Me and my life? I care about other people's head's footnotes too--I just love head's footnotes.

I've been thinking about leaving my fingerprints on your being.

So come down now, remove your mask, see.
All you gotta do is ask me.
I'll give you all the love life allows.

Wow. So I start to tear up on the subway. And then the narrator asks:

What does this feeling mean to you:
Both to be seen and be seen through?

And I start to cry. On the subway. I know the left coast wears its emotions on its sleeves, but that's ridiculous. But I have to take out my ipod and play Klondike to distract myself until I can get to my friend's apartment (who was, blessedly, already asleep).

I'm amazed at the amount of shit I do, like video games, to just try to numb myself out to what I'm feeling sometimes.

More than anything in my life, that's what I yearn for: "Both to be seen and be seen through." Someone to care enough about me, see the real in me and want to pursue the real enough to want to see through me. I honestly have a persona that is kind of impressive. Not like "top 1/10 of 1%" impressive. But probably in the top 1%. But who cares? I'm faking it. All of it. Every single bit. I don't care about that. Well, maybe I do. I love my life, actually. But it isn't fair that this chasm never disappears and I seem to have no control over it. I would trade my job and house and car for someone to love me as much as I'd love him. I really would. No. I wouldn't. Because I couldn't love someone that would ask me to give up my job that I love. But I'd trade my home that is the envy of all my friends with real estate envy. Gladly. More gladly, though, I'd share it with him.

I guess because I never got to be pretty when I was younger, and I knew it from a very, very early age, I just knew no one would ever love me. After all, Daddy told me so. And I built a life for me alone. And it is a good life. Hell, I can got to New York for the weekend just because I wanted to see Passing Strange one more time before it closes. And the feminists say "A woman needs a man life a fish needs a bicycle." Intellectually I'd believe it, but emotionally I'd say "but I need someone to love. I need to curl up next to another being and feel his heart beat. And have him care enough to want to see the flawed, conflicted messed-up girl that lurks, like an alien in Men in Black, under the well-put-together persona. I need that. Not like a fish needs a bicycle. Like a fish needs oxygen.
There's a Sondheim lyric:

In the depths of her interior
Were fears she was inferior
And something even eerier
But no one dared to query her superior exterior.

Probably the most brilliant lyric ever written in the English language. She is scared to make this vulnerable confession, so she uses the amazing rhyme scheme in order to distract from the vulnerability. I've always thought that that, more than anything else, described me. And, crazily enough, I've shared the lyric with tons of people because it is so clever, no one realizes it is vulnerable. People just here the ear ee er and don't realize that I'm sharing something about myself. And I've often wished someone would ignore the rhyme to realize the unguarded, exposed, unprotected girl and say "you don't have to pretend with me. I'll love you no matter what." But that, I suppose, is just a naive wish from a romance novel.

In a way, though, that lyric doesn't describe me. In a way, my inferiority is very much on the surface because of my weight. And I've struggled and struggled and struggled to have someone care about me despite it. And then I lost weight, and now I'm still plump, but in the sort-of normal category. And yet, still alone. All alone. And intellectually, it's all right now. But emotionally...

Buddy's Blues

My ex told me he loved me last night. Said he spent the whole year missing me. He's never felt that way about an ex before. He just wants to be with me.

We talked about why it wouldn't work between us. Mostly I'm not sure if I want a family but I clearly don't want to rule it out and he really, really doesn't want any more kids (and has had a vasectomy). I'm profoundly ambivalent about kids but I also really don't want to say "NO--I'm not having any."

So I said no intercourse. Vaginal or anal. And he really wants sex. More than sex, it drives him crazy that I'm obedient with this pre-negotiated, pretty big no-go area.

"I just can't do that outside of a monogamous relationship. I would have gone crazy on Sunday knowing you were fooling around with someone else."
"I can understand that. But I'll be monogamous."
"But I want to keep seeing other people."
"OK--I'll play poker while you date other people."
"But. That's not fair to you. You can't do that."
"I just want to be with you for however long I can have."

I just want to be with you for however long I can have. Wow.

It is interesting to have this record of my thoughts and feelings because they aren't always what I thought they were. I was clearly more skeptical about my ex before last Thursday than I remember being and clearly more insecure on Sunday than I'd want to remember.

His offer seems to good to be true. I don't see how he could possibly be happy with that in a month or two. And I also doubt I would have space to get involved with someone new if I were that involved with him. Right now, with us not having sex, I'm sticky towards him, but it is a post-it sticky, not an epoxy sticky. Sex would make it epoxy sticky.

But then, I wonder if I just want what I can't have and devalue what I can.

Horrific Fiction

The power of fiction to touch me, in good and shuddering ways, often surprises me. I just finished Topping from Below (TFB) and it made my soul shudder. I have fears about falling into the dark side of wiitwd. Some fears are quite quotidian--becoming bitter and harsh, like some of the women I used to see when I went to munches and discussion groups. But there are other fears. When I went to the police because of the man who was essentially stalking me. When I see my own inability to place limits after I surrender. I don't want to have to have limits. But maybe that is exactly how abuse happens. When I saw how I allowed my ex to essentially turned our relationship into something I had to endure, rather than something that I found joy in.

TFB seemed to reinforce so many of the negatives. (Spoiler alert, but I'll assume that me hating a book isn't enough to make you run out and buy it--a couple of sexy pieces I enjoyed were Safe Word (especially the ending, which I loved), and the anthology Yes, Sir, which is quite sexy.) TFB follows the pretty sister investigating why her fat sister, with no self-esteem, got killed in a clearly S&M related death. Of course, the killer likes the pretty, confident one. He treats her differently and the pretty one loves the S&M as well. He falls in love with her, unlike the fat girl, where the S&M was just abuse. (Of course, for most of the book you don't know who the killer is and enjoy the sex scenes, so the fact that it is horrible feels worse than if some of it hadn't seduced me, against my better judgment.) I can't believe a bookstore recommended it as an S&M classic on par with Anne Rice.

But it brought up a couple of interesting things for me.

I seem to have both the girl who relishes surrender and the girl who feels it can border on abuse, all wrapped up in one neat package. The thing about my ex, he never went very far with the S&M stuff. I rarely had bad bruises. A few on my breasts usually--that was it. Few welts. Never any other kind of marks. It was the tone that was all wrong for me (although last week was a clear exception--last week was as lovely as it was with Steven). I could have actually handled more pain if he had mixed more sex in with it. He wanted me scared because it turned him on. If I were turned on, or felt like there was caring it in. That's the only way it is sexy to me. I'm so vanilla/fudge swirl. Not all chocolate.

And, depending on who is doing the viewing, I'm either a pretty girl you'd want to have enjoy it, or a plain girl you'd seen what she could endure. I think my ex has seen me switch in his view. I used to be the plain girl you'd amuse yourself with, and now I'm the cute one, you'd want to bring along for a great ride.

It also emphasized how wrong the traditional approach to BDSM is for me. I understand that if people are 'playing' casually, then being clear about what play should look like becomes necessary. And I certainly think life would be easier if I could go that way. But I just don't. I'm totally comfortable being upfront about sex at the very beginning--if we aren't compatible, there is little reason to waste time. But once we've established the we might be compatible, then I'd like sex to just disappear. It isn't about activities. It is about relationships. For me.

Long ago, there was a discussion on our local BDSM list about how a Dom had a right to cut off a sub's ear unless she has clearly specified that as a hard limit. What the fuck are These Idiots thinking? And They wonder why the women all leave? (Obviously if we are having this discussion, we must get the capitalization right!) Those checklists, those ads saying "Few if any limits"--that's all nonsense. This isn't a game of 'gotcha." There are 87 million things I won't do, and there is no way I can come up with them. "Oooh--you didn't specify you won't go to a malaria country without malaria meds--you aren't really a submissive." "Oh, you said I couldn't break bones, but you didn't specify ligaments." What the fuck are these Men talking about when they say a gal shouldn't have limits. And they wonder why there are so few women.

I still remember a conversation with "John." He was new to all this, and I said something like "If you're a reaction junkie--I'll give you reactions, but if you're looking for a workout, I can't." And he said "the thing is, I am kind of looking for a work out." And that's when I knew I couldn't be his partner. (Later, much later, he remembered this conversation differently, and said that wasn't what he meant, so I fell for him again.)

When did sex become about activities as opposed to relationships? When did silly little checklists take the place of watching body language? Oh, and honestly caring about your partner? Wanting to protect and cherish as well as torment and tease? When did a sexual relationship become only about sex? The number of men who are shocked that I'd want to know what we have in common before I'd consider fucking them.

I've worked very hard not to become bitter. There are women in the local "scene" who have lost their joy. You can tell they've given themselves away too many times and lost their resilience. I expect there was a time they were vulnerable, trusting. Probably naive. Now, they are jaded, closed, bitter, angry. Some of them become Dommes because they don't want to be alone, and the betrayal of a sub hurts them even more. Because they never really wanted to be a domme to begin with. They were willing to do even that to find love, and it wasn't enough. I never want to fall into that bitter jaded thing. But I've had more than enough done to me to become bitter. (The worst thing that was done to me, I won't talk about it because I don't want to give any men ideas about how to make a woman's life hell. It was a very creative way of destroying my resilience for months.) I'm not bitter. I have moments, but only moments. I'm still capable of forcing myself to open and become vulnerable and trusting. But I'm tired of forcing myself to do that. Maybe I need to let a guy I'm interesting teach me he is trustworthy.

I do have a fairly traditional sense that promiscuity is wrong (for me--not for others--just for me). I simply won't get involved with a man that doesn't do the intimate dance of conversation. It can be as simple as election talk, or profound as John's 700 e-mails revealing the depths of our seemingly simpatico souls. That seems to be my only protection. I expect it is enough for my physical safety, but whether it is enough for my bounciness remains to be seen.

Through the Looking Glass

I slept with my ex Thursday. No sex-sex (which I define as vaginal or anal). But oral sex and other stuff. So here was my impression Friday:

He was sweet, kind, gentle. Dominated, but he didn't make my soul shudder or make me run away. He wants me back. But the weird thing is, as much as I enjoyed waking up in his arms. And I did enjoy waking up in his arms. I don't want to be with him permanently. I would be very happy to wake up in his arms a couple of times a week while we both continue to explore our own several ways.

When we broke up, I made him promise not to come after me for a quickie because I couldn't handle it emotionally. I didn't want to be emotionally sticky with him, wanted to get over him. But I'm more sticky with Michael than with my ex. And my ex is getting very sticky towards me. Part of me thinks I should just break it off because he is falling for me the way I fell for him when we first met, and I'm not falling for him the way he didn't fall for me when we first met. And I don't want to be unfair to him.

So it is Sunday. And I wish he'd call. I knew he had a date with a woman he has seen very occasionally for the last few months (she lives a hundred miles away, or so--but he fell for her very hard when they first met). And I know he probably had sex with her today. Phenomenal sex. And I know that she has left and he is alone right now, and I wish he'd call me. Not her, me.

Intellectually, I expect he'll be back. I'd lay odds he'll be back and I rarely bet. But I wouldn't lay odds that I'll keep from being sticky towards him. He is different than he was before. We fooled around once, a couple of months ago, and it got him out of my system. He was selfish and didn't take care of me. Exactly as he was when we dated.

But this week he transformed. Totally different. He had always forbidden me to cut my hair when we were together. When I cut about 6 inches after we stopped dating, he hated it, and let me know it. I cut off another 6 inches a couple of weeks ago and he grabbed my hair, in a way that made my knees weak and said 'look--there's still enough to grab' and kissed my throat. It was a way of saying--'you can be who you are--I love who you are becoming, and you can still come home to me.'

At one point, he edged towards a rough tone, and he could feel me retreating emotionally. Immediately he backed off. No panic attack on my part, no nothing except him picking up that I wasn't responding to his roughness. If we sleep together again this week, and if he is again thoughtful and kind, he will get under my skin. I can feel it already happening, in the change from my certainty that he wants me to wondering if he does, in my wishing he would call, in my having to not call him. He's the first man I've slept with since we broke up. And if I'd had an evening like that with anyone else, I'd be completely head over heels for him.

I don't even know what I want anymore. Maybe it is worth giving this a second chance.

Numbing out

I'm changing in a way I haven't yet recognized. I mean, I recognize that I am changing, but not where that shift is leading. Part of me thinks I should take a break from dating. Part of me thinks that would be a mistake.

If I quit dating, I think I'd end up with my ex; he invited me for a lovely, romantic weekend at the beach. I said no because I had plans with a friend. And because it is a really bad idea. Really, really bad idea. But if I hadn't had plans, I don't know what I would have done. And while I'm good friends with my ex and I like being his friend, I really don't want to be his lover, ending up in his bed accidentally because it is warm and I'm cold. I'm blue right now, and part of it is that we essentially broke up a year ago today. He would be comfortable and easy in some ways, and horrible for me in others. I wish we'd done something like that romantic beach weekend when we were still together. But he took me for granted when we were still together. Most people, it feels like (aside from my mom and my two best friends, and my ex now, take me for granted.) It would be lovely to do something like that with someone I really cared about. (I do care about my ex, but not in that way.)

But what is going on with me? Saw a sweet guy and he was able to find this blog from my e-mail, which was odd (I had done several google searches to make sure it hadn't come up, but he did a different combination). And it was very odd. "You're a piece of work" he said, and I'm not sure who was more embarrassed that he had read my blog. He seemed smitten before he read my blog. But I am a piece of work, even if I hide it from the world. We had tentative plans for yesterday and he disappeared, so that's that. I'm too old to date Houdini.

But it makes me wonder what the hell is going on with me. What do I want? I have more men interested in me than I've ever had, but something is wrong with me and no one seems right. Where do I want to go? I browsed Craig's List and so many of the ads that might otherwise be the direction I'd look had dollar signs in the ad, which translates into "what's in it for you? Money." I want someone to give me so much more than money. I want empathy, cherishing, understanding, love, joy, playfulness and kindness. How on earth could money substitute for those things?

On vacation last month, I bought some naughty books, and 2 of them have ended up really giving me the creeps. Tying the whole D/s thing into clear abuse. I wonder if the universe is giving me a sign.

Among my brother's friends, all the men seem to be with women who are relatively uncaring, ungiving. One guy just got engaged to a woman that only puts out a couple of times a month! And views it as putting out!! And yet I seem to attract jerks like fruit flies to over-ripe honeydew. Isn't there a way to have a balance, where both people get what they need and what they want, and both people take care of their partner? I had hoped, obviously incorrectly, that being clear about sexual needs upfront would allow people to put that on a back burner and develop a friendship, knowing that when we got there, we'd be on the same wave length. But that was clearly erroneous. But I don't want to spend three months getting to know someone and then find out either that I freak them out or they aren't capable of giving me what I'd need. And frankly, without a little of that tension, there's no way I'd hang around for 3 months.

Other stuff has me a little discombobulated as well. My sister is moving away--it means my closest family will be a plane ride, not a walk from me. I have great friends. And I've never relied much on my family, but in the last few years, she has become ingratiated into my daily life in a way I never expected.

And of course, there's Michael. Who appears out of no where. Says hi. And disappears. And I care. I care so much more than I should. So much more than the situation warrants. I don't know what to do. I know if I got together with my ex, the yearning my psyche gravitates towards Michael would disappear. Or maybe I'll get lucky and fall for someone else. Someone who actually cares about me as much as I might care about him.

When I got his e-mail, I could almost see the shadow of me, breaking down, trying desperately to hold it together, from an e-mail years ago when he told me he was seeing someone else. That shadow of my former self sitting in the same chair, feeling her soul torn asunder. It isn't the same this time. But more and more often, I can feel myself passing those shadows of difficult moments in the past. Ghosts of who I used to be imbuing the quotidian.

I always seem to remain sticky for the last person who touched me deeply, until someone else comes along and touches me deeper. I shouldn't be drawn towards Michael. It's been a very long time since we ever had a possibility. But the loose end continue to titillate and torment.