Dancing with Angst

So I have to say, I am really enjoying Maxearnest.  We are skyping hours every day, and he is funny (and incredibly quick and smart for English being his 2nd language) and all of my concerns, he sort of says 'but I would never do that--it is my responsibility to make sure that you are happy with the kink in the long run.'

I've waited years for a man to say that to me.

I'm excited, and not even that nervous about this unbelievably crazy thing I'm doing.  The 2 friends that actually know I'm going to Iceland to meet someone (rather then just because I got a cheap ticket over presidents day) both want his name, address, social security number (never mind that, as a non-U.S.-citizen, such a thing doesn't exist), copy of his passport and dna profile.  They are trying to take care of me, and I respect that.  But somehow, this feels good in my bones.  (And I am going to e-mail them the name of wherever we end up staying, although I can't help but notice that we've put off finding a place until we meet, which gives us the option of a hotel, rather than being locked into a youth hostel.  But a youth hostel probably makes a lot more sense for a variety of reasons.)

I am aware of how much angst is built into my system.  And that's OK. I just need to say "Hi Angst.  Welcome.  Let's dance."  But dancing only with angst is a little repetitive.  I think she needs a break.

There are places I'm putting the brakes on a bit.  We're both bringing HIV tests to Iceland, but I've also said I'm not really ready to have sex, and if, by chance, I feel ready after a few days, I think there should be condoms.  (Neither of us has had a partner in the last 6 months.  I know I'm taking his word and he's taking mine (although my blog sort of backs it up), but it just feels like being 'fluid bonded' is too fast for something like that--as fast as everything is going.)

But he likes my "young girl" and he likes my "power woman" (as he calls it)--even though he hasn't seen the power woman as much as the young girl.

Maxearnest said something really interesting:  some women have submissive tendencies, but my bifurcation means that instead of having submissive tendencies, my young girl is just purely submissive.  (And she doesn't really have angst about it.  She just is.)  So, in a weird, bizarre way, it is actually simpler than someone who is like 70% submissive, but it isn't divided into this public/private selves.  I thought that was interesting.  (It also may explain why the ex said I was the most submissive woman he'd ever met.)

The thing that is quite different here is that Maxearnest knows my angst and has totally embraced it.  He has never been annoyed with me for having angst.  He's been patient, and danced.  And now that my angst has been taken seriously and said "no-you aren't crazy and yes, I will take care of those things" she is sort of dancing into the sidelines.  It is odd that my public-power-woman is the side that needs reassurance.  My young girl feels safe and seen.  It is almost like Maxearnest appreciated the angst that kept me safe, and now he will keep me safe.

Maxearnest has seen less of my power woman than probably any man I've been involved with--my power woman doesn't really skype.  But because he has had concern for her concerns, my public side isn't demanding more attention.  I seem quite happy to just be the young side with him.  I'm sure when we meet, it will be different--in public, I will primarily be my public persona.  But right now, my public side is acquiescing more than I am used to having that side accede.

I know, there are probably  things I don't know about.  I know there is a chance that I will get to Iceland and Maxearnest and I won't click for whatever reason. Maxearnest said a 20% chance, and that sounds about right.  And I'll spend at least a day crying in a youth hostel, and then force myself to go hike along the volcano or take a horseback ride tour, or something.  And I'll be the bluest gal in Iceland, but I'll pick up the pieces and try this crazy treasure hunt again.  But, deep down, something feels right.  I don't have this fear that something I do will fuck it up in an irreversible way.  If this is meant to work, we'll find a way to make it work.

I do have to say, though, without angst, I have less to write about.  Angst is, I think, what has made my blog interesting.  Without angst, I may just have to report on what I had for lunch.

All by myself

Maxearnest finally got a web cam, so we are now skyping with both of us seeing each other, which is really nice.

I really wish, however, that I had one good female friend who I could talk about kink with.  Some of my gay male friends know some of the details of my life, but more in the general than the specific.  But my female friends, well Dotty knows I'm kinky (and she knows that Maxearnest reads my blog--I sort of led her to believe that was how we met), and another friend knows I'm "not vanilla."  But the other friend thinks "not vanilla" means anything other than missionary position.  I haven't had the heart to tell her that I consider her "not vanilla" to be pure Madagascar vanilla bean.

The funny thing is, I think in another life, Dotty would be kinky, but sex just isn't very important to Dotty.  Her last boyfriend was clearly much more vanilla than Dotty liked, and that was clearly not an issue for her.  They didn't get married for other reasons, but it was clear that Dotty would be perfectly happy with boring sex once a week.  I sometimes wonder if she found a kinky guy (purely by accident, because she'd never look for one) if she would be submissive and far more into sex than she is now.   But that is totally conjecture, because we just don't talk about it.

Part of that is because I don't talk about it.  I don't mind talking with my gay male friends whom I have known have been (or are) promiscuous.  (My gay male friends who have not been open about promiscuity with me, don't know.)  My friend that knows the most worked as a sex worker for a while, so I just don't feel any judgement from him.  (Interestingly, my friend who is the most promiscuous of all my friends was quite judgmental when I sort of hinted at it.  He said it was 'gross.'  Actually we sort of stopped being friends after that point.)

But I wish I had a girlfriend I could really, truly talk about this stuff with.  The kink world does operate on different rules, but sometimes I wonder if I'm being too risky.  I feel really good about Maxearnest.  But I'd still like someone to bounce my world off of.

Cook and coach

Maxearnest and I had another long talk today, and I'm a little trepidatious about things that seem completely illogical.

Maxearnest has said, if we get to the point of sharing a hotel room, that he will want to inspect me.  And this scares me.  All the fears about my body come flooding in.  And Maxearnest reads my blog--he knows way more about me than anyone I've dated knew at the time (with the possible exception of John, but I think I'm much more self aware than I was when John and I were involved).  And Maxearnest said that he has never been with a 'larger' woman before, which made my heart sink a little bit.  I've worked so hard to escape the 'larger' label.  But in Europe, I'd totally be a plus size.  That's just that.  And Maxearnest basically said that I have a beautiful face and that is more important.

Maxearnest, in many ways, says the things that I always wanted men to say.  And my heart sinks a little.  It is odd.  But in the last 10 years, I've come to believe that men care more about looks than most other things, and if a guy doesn't like how I look, lust after it, it just won't work.  And here is Maxearnest saying "your figure isn't the most important thing."

Maxearnest reads my blog, so he knows how conflicted I am about weight.  And I get the sense that he would like to nudge me towards a little smaller size.  And, in all fairness, if I'd stayed with Nate, I wanted to nudge him off his diabetes medicine.  Hell, part of me would like to be a smaller size--I just can't seem to pull it off and, right now, I'm trying to be happy with the way I am (in part because I have such a fear of gaining back the weight I lost.)  So I'm being completely irrational.  But it scares me.  It scares me if he isn't attracted to how I look right now.  It scares me if he wants to control my food, that I'll turn into the rebellious kid who snuck food so her parents wouldn't see.  

Maxearnest loves food, and he is, from what I can see, a gourmet cook who cooks the most beautifully and lovingly crafted meals.  And he has made it clear that he would like to cook for me.  Which seems lovely.

I don't know why his views on my body scare me.  He is basically saying "you're not perfect--none of us are--I'm prepared to enjoy you as you are."  Which is a totally lovely thing to say.  I would just like him to find me really sexy as I am.  And if I don't change at all, I'd like that to be OK.  And if we find a way for me to change, that should be OK too.  I've just tried and failed at so many things in that area;  I don't want to fail again, and I can't imagine love being tied to success in that area.

"Real;" Topping from the Bottom; and Abuse

I can't sleep.  I have a cold and took pseudoephedrine which I meant to take Benadryl.  

Maxearnest and I had a nice long talk (7 hours total on Skype yesterday!) and one of the things we talked about was "Topping from the bottom."  He had made it very clear that that is not OK with him.  I, on the other hand, have come to view men in 'the scene' here use that as an excuse for abuse.  So I really wanted to get to the bottom of what Maxearnest meant by it.  And I get the sense that Maxearnest is earnest, and that the things he would consider topping from the bottom are things that I wouldn't do.

I read this article and I'm coming to realize how very toxic the local "scene" is.  I think that there are a lot of people who are doing a lot of on-line fantasizing, and then go to munches or the local kink group's educational meetings that are, in my opinion, crazy.  And there is this culture of "your kink is not my kink but your kink is OK" when some things are just not OK.  I first left the local scene after a conversation about whether a Dom had a right to cut off a sub's ear.  Now, 75% of the men were saying "No."  But 25% were saying yes, unless a sub clearly negotiated that as a hard limit, then he would have a right to do that.  And no one was saying "that is crazy and wrong."  No one was saying "wait--isn't this, ultimately, supposed to be really fun for both people?  Isn't this supposed to make us more joyful in the long run?  How on earth is that healthy?"  No, everyone was too scared of being seen as judgmental or too vanilla or not 'real.'

My local scene takes the not-judging way, way too far.  Some things should be judged and found unacceptable.  And when that is the standard, other, 'more vanilla' (i.e. saner) limits become seen as "why are you here? You aren't kinky enough."  

The worst thing a man ever did to me, I've never written about and the reason is that it was so horrible and so easy.  I don't want other men to get the idea and do it to other women, and so I've never written about it and only tell someone when I'm trying to justify my care of my privacy.  (When I meet someone on-line, I give them a fake name--it is pronounced the same as my real name, but it has enough changes that I'm not googleable with it until the 11th page of hits.  They get a google-voice number (and only after I've called them with a blocked number first).  I won't tell them where I work, and I'll only give very general geography of where I live. I have a very large google-footprint.  I'm the only lawyer in my area with my first name.  So with my first name, and "lawyer" you can get where I live, how much money I gave to each Democratic candidate, how much I paid for my house, etc. Google my real phone number, and you get me.  With all the coverage of google's privacy issues, the real one, for me, isn't what google knows about me, but what google tells the world about me.)

I've broken all these rules for Maxearnest.  I didn't want him to call from Europe and get stuck in the google-voice rigmarole, and once I gave him my real phone number, there was no reason not to give him the other info as well.  But I think I'm not being foolish.  

I get the sense, based on a sample of 1 and broad, broad over-generalizations, that maybe 'the scene' in Europe is better than the United States.  Maxearnest was, I think, surprised at my concern about his concern about 'topping from the bottom' but I think if he had been from the U.S., he would have viewed the term differently.  Maxearnest really, clearly, wants me to enjoy myself in the long run.  He sees being the dominant as a responsibility, and recognizes that he can't push me to the point where it is damaging to my soul.  He also, clearly, wants me to have a lot of fun.  It is what I, in my naivete 10 year ago, thought kink would allow. Based on everything I've seen, Maxearnest will cherish me.  

It is funny--I used to think (and with Maxearnest, I'm pretty sure there would be) a meeting in the middle.  I have what a lot of men claim they want: a pretty insatiable sexual appetite (maybe not insatiable, but when work isn't crazy, I'd be very happy having sex twice a day on weekdays and more on weekends--the joy of not having kids at the moment), and I'm game for a lot.  But I'm not masochistic; while I will endure some to please someone I love, it can't be all about that for me.  And for a lot of men here, they would say I'm not a 'real' submissive, because I have limits. But my biggest limit is "does this make me more joyful in the long run?"

That sense of cherishing a submissive, instead of seeing her as a disposable commodity in a materialistic, consumption, disposable culture, is, I think, at the heart of healthy kink.  There's no easy way to measure it and I don't know how one negotiates it.  But without it, kink can be a dangerous and soul-numbing endeavor for me.

Saving Myself

So Maxearnest and I had a nice conversation about the parameters of Iceland.  I wanted a sort of Ulysses option, committing us to not having sex (which I define in very Clintonian ways), and he wasn't willing to do that.  

We agreed, and I think this is fair, mature compromise, that we would not have sex until we have had a conversation, over tea or coffee (not alcohol), in a public place, with our clothes on, and I saw I'm willing and wanting to.

But, of course, I expect if we like each other as much in person as we do on Skype, that part of me will be willing and wanting, and part of me will be desperately trying to protect myself.  From what?

I'm aware that I have the capacity to become burnt out, brittle, angry, with dead eyes.  I seem women like that in 'the scene' and I know I was on the precipice of going there.  I gave myself away and didn't have enough left of myself.

I've been very aware the last few years of wanting to take good care of me, so I'd be in good share if I met the right man. (I've also been wanting to take good care of me so that if I have kids, I'll be a really good mom.)  I am 'saving myself.'  Not in the traditional sense of that out-dated term, but it has been useful.

Maxearnest and I are having what feels like a whirlwind romance, and if it is a fairy tale, well, then I've been saving myself for him.  And I think he will appreciate, very much, my "bounciness"--my ability to find joy, be emotionally open and vulnerable, and laugh spontaneously.  But if it isn't, if we go to Iceland and then that is it, well, I need enough reserves to find some inner resilience.  I want to be able to look at the weekend and say "wow--that was a crazy thing, but I'm glad I had an adventure" and not spend a year trying to figure out what I did wrong.

I don't know the right balance between trusting the future and trusting someone else and protecting myself.  I don't actually regret any of the men I've slept with after I was 18. I slept with 2 men when I was 17 that was just me being a foolish child, but people do that.  There are 2 men I have regrets about what I didn't do with them--John (although my biggest regret was not being more self-aware about how desire worked for me, because he took my reluctance as a breach of faith, and not as "I get reluctant because it is really hot for someone to kiss that away) and another man in college who was so sexy (and so very interested in me), but was clearly seeing multiple women, and I just wasn't mature enough to handle that.  I think I probably made the right decision, but every year or so I have a sexy dream about that man, and I wish I had been a different person).Since high school, however, I've been quite careful with who I've had sex with.  Probably too careful.

And, again, this is Clinton's definition.  I've probably given oral sex to over a dozen men; that doesn't have the emotional intimacy that vaginal sex does.  (Interestingly, I've only received oral sex from a very few; it isn't some be-all, end-all for me, but it is more intimate.  Much more intimate.  It is kind of scary, actually.  And I've never come from oral sex alone, so I always feel a little bit like a failure at it.)  I don't know why vaginal intercourse is so closely tied to my emotions and oral sex isn't.  But that is true for me.

So on one level, I'm quite clear that I don't want to have 'sex' in Iceland.  And yet, when I'm kneeling at Maxearnest's feet, I will want to please him.  I know I will.  I will want to let go of having to be the one that protects me all the time, and trust someone else to protect me.  I know I've gotten in trouble in the past by trying to let go of my protector-side too quickly.  There has not been a single warning-flag with Maxearnest. Not one.  I'm pretty darn sure he can't have another gal, because he doesn't really have time for another gal. He has told me where he lives, made himself googleable, and talked in a way that has been emotionally open.  He hasn't told me everything I've wanted to hear, but when he has told me areas where we differ, we've been able to talk about what it means.  He is interested in quotidian aspects of my life--he says it is because he is interested in me, and I believe him.  

I truly hope he is the man I've been saving myself for.  But if he isn't, I need to keep enough reserves to stay bouncy.  If not a week after Iceland, then this summer.  I don't know how to do that.

Acceptance and Rejection

I had a big work thing rejected yesterday.  I am so passionate and committed to this idea.  I've worked on it for 6 years now.  I think it is a great idea.  And they rejected the grant.  

And I told Maxearnest, and it was sort of OK.  Like, obviously, I still wish that it had been accepted, but having someone who understood (Maxearnest doesn't have the same profession as me, but he explored it enough to understand the big things, and he was so kind) just made a really, really big difference.  I was sad, but I wasn't grasping and clutching.  Sometimes when I deal with rejection, it feels like the rejection is of  "me--Connie" not "this idea that I had."  It makes me a little frantic and trapped and I'll try anything.  Approval--someone, approve of me!

I'm going to reapply, and I have a feeling that when I have a draft of the new proposal done, Maxearnest will read it.  And he will cheer me on.  I also have a feeling that Maxearnest would be happy to nudge me, in a sexy way, to actually finish the things that I procrastinate.  Maybe if I finished more, I'd be less invested in each individual one.

I'm not saying I accept the rejection.  (I care about this idea of mine way too much to just drop it.)  But there was a serenity that was a welcome change.

And today, I bought my ticket to Iceland.  I can hardly wait!  On one level, this is probably the craziest thing I've ever done.  But I like him.  And he likes me.  And we can enjoy a 4-hour phone conversation.  So why the heck not?  I mean, would it be any crazier to talk on the phone for 6 months and then meet?  We like each other intellectually.  We think we're sexually compatible.  We've talked about where to live, whether we're open to kids, birth control and abortion.  We've talked about HIV and the G.O.P.  We've talked about my bifurcation and he seems amazingly integrated.  Worst comes to worse, I get to Iceland and one of us doesn't like the way the other smells, and we have a very, very awkward morning and then I explore Iceland for 4 days.  But doesn't that make more sense to do now than wait months?  (I got a super-cheap ticket.  Insanely cheap.  And I've always wanted to go.  We'll have a youth hostel reservation.  If we want to go our several ways, there's over 30 youth hostels.  Of course, if I adore him and he doesn't like how I smell, or something like that, I'll probably spend at least a day crying in bed.  But then I'll make myself see Iceland.)

He is so caring--he's arriving the day before and getting a hotel at the airport.  He said I could shower there and take a nap and he'd wait in the lobby!  He is leaving after I leave so he can take me to the airport.  He has been so thoughtful; I feel like he cherishes me.

This is crazy.  Crazy.  Crazy!  I keep expecting there to be something major.  I know he isn't a Republican.  I know he doesn't smoke.  I know he has 2 legs and 2 arms (not that I would really care about a  missing a leg or an arm, but the Republican thing...).  I don't think he is front for a new Nigerian scam.  I don't think he is associated with the Russian mob.  How can things be going this right?  And yet, maybe, as crazy as this sounds, but maybe breaking some of the strings with my dad leaves me more open.

This is crazy.  But it would be even crazier not to run with it and see what happens.

2-D

Maxearnest and I spoke for about three and a half hours.  It was a nice call--he speaks English amazingly well, and has a sexy voice.  

We talked about a lot, and I did start to surrender, but then he noticed the shift in my voice (and liked it) and I blushed a bright shade of pink, but it made me very self-conscious.

We had erotic conversation, but not sexual, if that makes sense.  It was definitely on the edge, and I was kind of shocked (OK, I'm blushing writing this here because I know that Maxearnest reads my blog, and I know he liked me blog and I don't think he'd want me to censor here), so I was kind of shocked at how wet I was.  I could feel myself getting wet (and there were times I worked hard to not push it into a more sexual conversation--we talked about sex in a hypothetical way, not a phone-sex way), but when I went to the bathroom after, it looked like an egg white in my undies.  

He liked my voice as well, so. 

President's day weekend--I'm headed to Iceland!  And I can hardly wait.  I really want to meet him in 3-D.