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amulWhat follows will hopefully be a relatively frank discussion of my sex habits, relationship habits, and the questions I have concerning how they should interact in this bachelor lifestyle I'm currently pursuing.
It is probably going to be TMI for most of you.
So I'm into a bunch of things, each taste something I acquired through a particular relationship. I've only had one monogamous relationship, my last one, so I'm used to polygamy but no longer sure if it's the only option I can adhere to. I've nearly always been into groups, voyeurism and exhibitionism, sex in dangerous places. In fact, those things have been such a regular staple of my life that I don't really consider them fetishes. The idea that a woman might not be willing to perform those acts with a man she loves is as foreign to me as the idea that she might not be willing to try any position other than missionary.
It's the more recent tastes that I've acquired which I'm having trouble integrating into my sense of self. My love of dominance, verbal humiliation, and S&M are all pretty much a product of the last three years. I grew angrier with My Ex, but less able to verbalize that anger. Since my breakup I've only been sexually active with submissives. Well, except for Roo, with whom I had the closest thing to a relationship of equals that I've possibly ever had.
They gave me a place to vent all the anger, the hurt, the resentment I felt towards My Ex. Hurting them helped me to release the frustration of being unable to say all those unspoken words, relieved my self-hatred for all the silences and times I was unwilling to speak up and defend myself.
At first, I couldn't bring myself to do such things to these women who loved me. But they nurtured that need, encouraged me to release it -- both for my healing and their pleasure. As my passion grew for them, as our trust grew, I became more willing to indulge in greater levels of depravity. They, in turn, grew more willing to confess their darker fantasies, and our relationships blossomed as we became more willing to be open, more trusting that whatever our impulse, the other would be accepting, encouraging, willing to experiment.
So now I know that I like this stuff. I've tried it, and I like doing it.
It seems like a slippery slope, from here to complete decadence on a scale even I have never tempted before. Previously, all my fetish experiences involved women with whom a significant bond of trust had been formed. Now I have the taste in my mouth, I like it, want it, but have avoided establishing the kind of trust that nurtures the communion that comes with fetish play. I have actively avoided developing such bonds, really. But the need is there. The hormonal urge is strong.
What I loved about the consensual violence I engaged in with my former lovers, was the consensuality of it all. (f)AD, for example. I trusted her enough to believe that she would tell me when to stop, when I'd gone too far. I learned her limits, and found interesting places to explore within those limits. Far more than, or at least as equally vital as, the acts themselves were the confessions of desire. Oh, I think I would like to try this completely derogatory act. "Oh, gods, I would love you to do that to me. Would you ever consider doing this unspeakable thing to me?" For you, my love, I would do it for you.
But now these boundaries are explored. I know it is within myself to do such things, provided the woman is willing. But I find that it is not the acts which gave me such pleasure, but the intimacy of them. The trust implicit in them. Even in my brief dalliance with Apple Martini, by the time we got to meeting each other in person, we had laid months of groundwork, had come to think of each other as friends, had built a foundation of trust on which we could lay our sexual appetites out like a fine meal.
In both cases, we knew that the foul words I spit at her while our passions heated were utterly untrue. We knew that I did not despise, but reveled in these aspects of her, in her sharing them with me. There was a tenderness born of strong emotion underneath those harsh words and curled fists.
When I took those expressions of tenderness and played casually with them, in the wee hours of my date two weekends ago, it felt as wrong as it once felt to casually use the word "love." Yet, as my isolationist tendencies grow, the need to reach out and engage in such acts of trust grow proportionately stronger. How am I to develop trust when I shy away from it so violently? How can I dabble casually when I know how much sweeter such fruit tastes when carefully nurtured?
But I am not capable of such nurturing at this time.
It is the age old hypocrisy of my gender. I want the tenderness, the emotion, the empathy, the sharing. I want them so deeply that the only way I feel I could be fulfilled would be through intercourse. I'm so lonely that I want to fuck, but mere fucking does not give me the things I want.
I had this problem in similar measure with My Ex, towards the end of things. With my Priceless Pearl, way back when my sexual appetites were first developing. I loved them so much, felt so one-sided in my desire, that all I could say was fuck me, fuck me, please, if you love me at all, fuck me now. I want the intimacy so badly that I feel I can only express it through physical language, but to do so before establishing mutual trust is self-sabotaging. How many times must I be shown that lesson before I learn it?
The instant I kissed my date, my ability to trust her, already precariously balanced, fell away completely. Isolated into the bedroom, there is no room for trust to grow as my body's demands took over. I must prune back my desires, when I want to grow wild with them.
Have I the strength? I have not shown it so far. My early successes in showing restraint have taken me to the far extreme. I do not allow myself to become even slightly intimate with those I have developed any trust at all, and do not allow trust to develop in any soil capable of nurturing physical intimacy. What strange paradox is this?!
I'm reminded of a moment over the summer. Radiant Idol and I sitting in a park, talking and growing closer. At one point, she cackled with glee and exulted, "See! I like this. Moments like this, these are what I want!" At the time, I took it to be an admonition against my earlier display of amorous affection. Now, though, I wonder if perhaps she had been reveling in a truth discovered within herself. What if she had been wondering if she were capable of such restraint, and in discovering that she was, found also she liked this way of intertwining as much as she had hoped?
If that's true, then it certainly explains the distance I've recently felt between us. More, though, it gives me a glimpse of the path I want to take, and suggests that, if only I could find the strength to walk it, I would find the joy I seek.
Have I the strength? I have not shown it so far.
It is probably going to be TMI for most of you.
So I'm into a bunch of things, each taste something I acquired through a particular relationship. I've only had one monogamous relationship, my last one, so I'm used to polygamy but no longer sure if it's the only option I can adhere to. I've nearly always been into groups, voyeurism and exhibitionism, sex in dangerous places. In fact, those things have been such a regular staple of my life that I don't really consider them fetishes. The idea that a woman might not be willing to perform those acts with a man she loves is as foreign to me as the idea that she might not be willing to try any position other than missionary.
It's the more recent tastes that I've acquired which I'm having trouble integrating into my sense of self. My love of dominance, verbal humiliation, and S&M are all pretty much a product of the last three years. I grew angrier with My Ex, but less able to verbalize that anger. Since my breakup I've only been sexually active with submissives. Well, except for Roo, with whom I had the closest thing to a relationship of equals that I've possibly ever had.
They gave me a place to vent all the anger, the hurt, the resentment I felt towards My Ex. Hurting them helped me to release the frustration of being unable to say all those unspoken words, relieved my self-hatred for all the silences and times I was unwilling to speak up and defend myself.
At first, I couldn't bring myself to do such things to these women who loved me. But they nurtured that need, encouraged me to release it -- both for my healing and their pleasure. As my passion grew for them, as our trust grew, I became more willing to indulge in greater levels of depravity. They, in turn, grew more willing to confess their darker fantasies, and our relationships blossomed as we became more willing to be open, more trusting that whatever our impulse, the other would be accepting, encouraging, willing to experiment.
So now I know that I like this stuff. I've tried it, and I like doing it.
It seems like a slippery slope, from here to complete decadence on a scale even I have never tempted before. Previously, all my fetish experiences involved women with whom a significant bond of trust had been formed. Now I have the taste in my mouth, I like it, want it, but have avoided establishing the kind of trust that nurtures the communion that comes with fetish play. I have actively avoided developing such bonds, really. But the need is there. The hormonal urge is strong.
What I loved about the consensual violence I engaged in with my former lovers, was the consensuality of it all. (f)AD, for example. I trusted her enough to believe that she would tell me when to stop, when I'd gone too far. I learned her limits, and found interesting places to explore within those limits. Far more than, or at least as equally vital as, the acts themselves were the confessions of desire. Oh, I think I would like to try this completely derogatory act. "Oh, gods, I would love you to do that to me. Would you ever consider doing this unspeakable thing to me?" For you, my love, I would do it for you.
But now these boundaries are explored. I know it is within myself to do such things, provided the woman is willing. But I find that it is not the acts which gave me such pleasure, but the intimacy of them. The trust implicit in them. Even in my brief dalliance with Apple Martini, by the time we got to meeting each other in person, we had laid months of groundwork, had come to think of each other as friends, had built a foundation of trust on which we could lay our sexual appetites out like a fine meal.
In both cases, we knew that the foul words I spit at her while our passions heated were utterly untrue. We knew that I did not despise, but reveled in these aspects of her, in her sharing them with me. There was a tenderness born of strong emotion underneath those harsh words and curled fists.
When I took those expressions of tenderness and played casually with them, in the wee hours of my date two weekends ago, it felt as wrong as it once felt to casually use the word "love." Yet, as my isolationist tendencies grow, the need to reach out and engage in such acts of trust grow proportionately stronger. How am I to develop trust when I shy away from it so violently? How can I dabble casually when I know how much sweeter such fruit tastes when carefully nurtured?
But I am not capable of such nurturing at this time.
It is the age old hypocrisy of my gender. I want the tenderness, the emotion, the empathy, the sharing. I want them so deeply that the only way I feel I could be fulfilled would be through intercourse. I'm so lonely that I want to fuck, but mere fucking does not give me the things I want.
I had this problem in similar measure with My Ex, towards the end of things. With my Priceless Pearl, way back when my sexual appetites were first developing. I loved them so much, felt so one-sided in my desire, that all I could say was fuck me, fuck me, please, if you love me at all, fuck me now. I want the intimacy so badly that I feel I can only express it through physical language, but to do so before establishing mutual trust is self-sabotaging. How many times must I be shown that lesson before I learn it?
The instant I kissed my date, my ability to trust her, already precariously balanced, fell away completely. Isolated into the bedroom, there is no room for trust to grow as my body's demands took over. I must prune back my desires, when I want to grow wild with them.
Have I the strength? I have not shown it so far. My early successes in showing restraint have taken me to the far extreme. I do not allow myself to become even slightly intimate with those I have developed any trust at all, and do not allow trust to develop in any soil capable of nurturing physical intimacy. What strange paradox is this?!
I'm reminded of a moment over the summer. Radiant Idol and I sitting in a park, talking and growing closer. At one point, she cackled with glee and exulted, "See! I like this. Moments like this, these are what I want!" At the time, I took it to be an admonition against my earlier display of amorous affection. Now, though, I wonder if perhaps she had been reveling in a truth discovered within herself. What if she had been wondering if she were capable of such restraint, and in discovering that she was, found also she liked this way of intertwining as much as she had hoped?
If that's true, then it certainly explains the distance I've recently felt between us. More, though, it gives me a glimpse of the path I want to take, and suggests that, if only I could find the strength to walk it, I would find the joy I seek.
Have I the strength? I have not shown it so far.
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no subject
Date: 3 Feb 2006 19:05 (UTC)Moreover, the basic problem remains that I'm unwilling to develop trust with any potential-sex-partner. Or maybe it's just that the two or three legitimate options I've discovered were unappealing for other reasons.
In the end, I'm beginning to feel like I should remember the bit about pottery class from Art and Fear. Hypothesizing about my relationship needs has gotten me nowhere.
no subject
Date: 4 Feb 2006 23:54 (UTC)Well, even among deviants there are great differences in the specific type of deviant you're looking for, so there can still be an element of searching. I refer to the psychological reasons behind the physical acts, 'cause the physical acts themselves can be dull without the proper motivation behind them. (Zan can treat me roughly, but without that intent-to-own, the actions do little & can sometimes be kind of irritating at worst.)
I think that it's fine to spend time figuring out what your relationship needs are, but just because you have a set of standards doesn't mean you should hold them up against someone on the first date(s). Just keep them in mind as you track the direction of the relationship's development...some things can be subject to change, while others hold more import. Don't let the ideal overwhelm the reality.