6:35 p.m. - Sunday, Sept. 30, 2012
The Stories We Tell Ourselves
As soon as I became one half of a partnership, I had to give up my one-night stands with strangers. It was hard - and continues to be hard. Because it makes me feel erotically fulfilled to be objectified. To be used. To be emotionally uninvested. To drive out in the middle of the night to meet someone I've never met . . .a lot of risk. Never knowing what the sexual experience is going to be like. Sometimes coming dangerously close to crossing boundaries. It's what I want. But when I chose to be one half of a partnership, I agreed to leave that behind. I almost cheated once. I met a guy on the internet, drove to his house, went in, and stood there watching him roll his cock around in his hands - asking me if I wanted it. "No," I said. "I made a mistake." And ran out of the house. I did want it. But I wasn't allowed to say it, because that would have betrayed my partner. I wanted him to take me against my will. Force me when I said no. I walk a very fine line between lying and cheating. I am both. I'm a liar. And I'm a cheater. To satiate the desire to be with strangers, to be used, I enter into different kinds of relationships.
At first, it was erotic massage. Although it never quite got erotic - because in my mind, the boundary was fuzzy. But the feeling was similar. I was still driving out to meet someone I didn't know, and didn't exactly know what could happen. An intimate encounter with a stranger. So it partially fulfilled what I needed. But not completely. Then it became the same people Pamela Madsen writes about in her book �Shameless� - before it was a book. The sacred intimates and sexological body workers. I found out about her book through one of them. He e-mailed me the description and said I should read her story.
But it never got to the places she went with them. Because they were about emotional vulnerability and honesty . . .which isn't what I wanted either. So I think mostly, I annoyed them. Frustrated them. In one case, it became a hostile relationship - both parties feeling defensive. I couldn't be either vulnerable or honest - and they either didn't have time for that, or couldn't give what wasn't being asked.
I would search Craigslist, m4m massage sites, chat rooms . . .Not exactly sure what I wanted. And when an opportunity presented itself, I couldn't articulate what I thought I wanted anyway, and therefore wasted a lot of time, money, and energy sneaking around for nothing but disappointment.
I believe in the power of the Universe . . .the power of life unfolding as it should. And through my searching, I did find someone who I felt a connection with, who never accused me of anything, who never blamed me, who never shamed me, who let me be and say and do whatever I wanted - and then could reframe it to open my perspective to possibilities I didn't know existed - and even when I was sure they didn't. And I started to change, and grow, and become more. Feel more. But even with this presence, the sexual nature of my dissatisfaction is not addressed. And so it's still there. And maybe I can hold out a little longer now until I need the next fix . . .but I always inevitably need the next fix.
Summer is a difficult time. Things slow down. I don't deal well when the pace is slow. I need movement . . .maybe it's running away . . .but it keeps me alive. In the summer of 2011, the movement stopped. I hated my body . . .I mean I always hated my body - but the hatred became overwhelming. I didn't want it anymore. I was tired of balancing what I felt I needed with what was acceptable to my relationship. Felt desperate . . .couldn't leave the relationship - and felt flashbacks to another time when I couldn't leave a relationship. I couldn't live like this. Didn't ask for it. Didn't want it. So the search became finding someone to help me die. Someone to share that last intimate moment with. Because, in death, maybe I would finally feel allowed to express what I wanted. If I was going to die, maybe I would be allowed to experience intimacy the way I wanted it. I was successful in finding someone, who introduced the drug which I believe was my salvation. The drug gave me exactly what I fucking wanted. I wanted to express emotion, feel emotion in the company of others, leave my body, leave the world - and with the drug, I experienced all of those things. But when my partner found out, our relationship came dangerously close to ending. The drug was a violation of our agreement. The lying was a violation. The withholding was a violation.
So I stopped everything. Stopped searching, stopped doing drugs, stopped lying. Just worked. Finished my master's degree. Fasted. And revolutionized my relationship to my body. Started moving . . .more than I ever had. And haven't stopped.
But the desire is still here. It will never, never go away. And I find myself searching Craigslist in desperation once again. What do I need to do? What do I need? I need to feel intimate connections with strangers to fulfill myself sexually. And that is in direct violation of the terms of my relationship. How do I get around this? I keep trying to work out ways that this is a psychological problem. WHY do I need these relationships? I can point to this event or that event . . .and try to force them together . . .so maybe I can psychoanalyze this desire away. And then it will no longer be a problem. Because I'm terrified of ending this relationship. I don't want it to end . . .because why . . .Because I love him? I don't even know. Because we've economically built a life together? We've spent 9 years together, 8 years living together . . .It's not my life . . .it's OUR life. It's not my money, my things, my family . . .It's our money, our things, our family. Can I throw that away because I want to let a stranger basically rape me? How fucked up does that sound? I need another option.
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