Recently, fairyhedgehog had a post about sex. Oh, damn! I just lost my reading audience.
Most of us are fascinated by sex to one degree or another. I know I am. There's something about sex which seems to get to who we really are. I think when we're engaged in lovemaking we have let down our final guards. We do if we really give ourselves to the experience anyway. Some of us are so inhibited we can't really enjoy sex as much as we could.
But that is not where I intended to go with this post.
Fairyhedgehog began her post with a quote from on Russell Smith. In that quote Mr. Smith makes a statement about "not truly understanding a character unless he knows how they are in bed." He adds that that is true of his real life friends, too.
Personally, I find Mr. Russell to be a sick sick man.
I mean, I have talked about sex and sexual activity with some of my friends. I even remember talking with my best friend a few days after I had my first encounter. But you know what? I didn't go into any great detail. At the time I was very upset with myself (I liked being a virgin) and so I focused more on why I gave in and how I was seduced more than the details of what actually took place.
Some people probably do get into the nitty gritty details with their friends about what they do. Mr. Russell apparently is one of them. Personally, I don't think I could do that. Nor do I want my friends doing that with me.
Not that I think it's "dirty" or "bad" or anything like that. As long as it isn't rape and it doesn't involve children, it's probably just fine.
But sex seems to get right to who we really are. It's the final guard to our spirits. I think that's why it's used by rapists. I seem to recall that most rapists don't actually enjoy the experience either - even if they do cum. But having consentual sex with another person is probably as close as we will ever come (no pun intended) to actually touching their spirit. We are all locked inside our bodies. We can't get out without dying. Hence the old phrase, "I'm trapped in a woman's body!" Or a man's. The spirit inside is at odds with the body nature gave them, and now they want out. With modern medical science those who can afford it can actually do something about it. The rest remain prisoners.
I don't talk about the details of my sexual behavior. Not even with my closest friends. (And they are SO grateful to me.) I don't think many people do. Especially across gender.
This is because I think if a woman starts telling a man the details of her bed behavior he's almost certain to assume she's coming on to him and wants him in her bed. And if a man starts telling a woman she's almost certain to think the same thing. Generally, in neither case is it all that comfortable conversation.
I don't talk about the details of what I do in bed because I don't like exposing myself (maybe it's subconscious, but I don't think I mean to be cute with the double entendre) like that. I have not had that many lovers in the real world. Had a few more in online fantasy. What I discovered is that lovers are easier to have online. I think it's because, unlike the real world, you can have sex online and still keep the separation of spirit. I don't like that. It's touching the spirit which makes the sex more meaningful to me. But more so online than in real life sexual partners are often only interested in pleasing the body.
Nobody likes to just cuddle anymore.
I could do that without ever having sex.
Well, maybe not ever. But you know what I mean.
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Friendship. Show all posts
Sunday, April 18, 2010
Thursday, April 15, 2010
It Never Was But it Never Matters
Losing friends is part of life. All life on this planet ends in its time. People, animals, plants - relationships. Ultimately, they are all doomed to death.
Some things die in natural course. Some die before their time. But all things die.
There were people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. Not a single person on this planet today knows they were ever here. But they were.
There was a time when they were alive and living. And when they died their life continued in the memories of those who knew them. But then those who knew them died, and their life could only live on in those who had been told about them. And then those who had been told about them died. Fewer and fewer people talked about them. Until nobody remembered they were here. All that become known was that someone was here. But nobody knew who.
The physical death of a lover is devastating. Some people never actually recover. The best they ever manage is to continue in their own life. But they don't really live it anymore. The grief just doesn't go away.
They are lonely.
I won't say it is more or less painful, but when the lover lives but the loving has died it is very much like physical death. There is grieving. And some people never actually recover.
We're lonely.
I have been told by many people recently that if someone truly loves me, then in time they will let go of anger/hurt/whatever negative feelings they have and return to me. And if they don't ever return to me then they probably never really loved me in the first place.
I know they mean well, but does making me think they never loved me in the first place supposed to make me feel better? The only remaining joy I have of my lover turns out to be a lie? That means there are no happy memories.
When Blue-Eyed Boy was very young - couldn't walk or use many words - I had him with me in a store. He was fussy. Life gets awful samey when you're sitting in a shopping cart. And for people that young samey can get bad in a hurry. But before his fussed too much he saw something fantastic: a giant wind-up jumping Tigger toy. It was being demonstrated. Wind it up and it would bounce its head a few times and then do a big flip. Blue-Eyed Boy thought that was pretty cool. And by letting him hold on to one and play with it I was able to complete my shopping in peace.
I had no intention of buying the toy, so it never really belonged to Blue-Eyed Boy. But you all know what happened when I finished shopping and finally put Jumping Tigger back on the shelf? Blue-Eyed Boy was upset.
Now I have been lucky with Blue-Eyed Boy. He has only thrown one tantrum in his whole life. That was a difficult time, but we got through it well enough. It took the most difficult time out I've ever experienced. I sat with him. We were BOTH in time out. And maybe that's why he never had a tantrum again. He knew he was not alone.
But losing Jumping Tigger was hard. Blue-Eyed Boy had come to believe Jumping Tigger belonged to him. So having it taken away was not a matter of him not getting his way. It was like losing something he already had.
He didn't throw a tantrum. But he cried. He cried a cry he had never cried before, and only repeated since when we lost animals due to illness. He was grieving.
Did it matter to him that the toy had never really been his? That poor communication on my part had helped him misunderstand? No. That didn't matter at all. What mattered is that he had believed he had something precious. And now it was gone. It broke his heart.
There are those who probably disagree with what I did next. We were actually more than a mile away from the store when I stopped the car to try and talk with him. Then, crying myself, I turned around and went back to the store and bought Jumping Tigger. Blue-Eyed Boy still has it. Hasn't played with it in more than ten years, but he still has it.
That was the only time anything like that ever happened with Blue-Eyed Boy. Since then I have been careful to be more clear about what is - and what is not - his.
But why is it so wrong for me to feel the same way about a lover?
Does it matter their love was never actually mine in the first place? No. Because there was a time I was convinced it was. There was a time when I sat in my shopping cart content with what I believed was mine. And now that it has been taken away - - - - -
I'm grieving.
So go ahead and tell me I was never loved in the first place. The proof is that my plea for reconcilliation has been ignored. Not even a "no" answer. Just silence. Like I don't exist.
It doesn't matter if they never loved me. Because I believed they did. And now they don't. And it hurts. And I always feel like crying. And I don't know how long it's going to take to recover.
I'm lonely.
Some things die in natural course. Some die before their time. But all things die.
There were people who lived hundreds or thousands of years ago. Not a single person on this planet today knows they were ever here. But they were.
There was a time when they were alive and living. And when they died their life continued in the memories of those who knew them. But then those who knew them died, and their life could only live on in those who had been told about them. And then those who had been told about them died. Fewer and fewer people talked about them. Until nobody remembered they were here. All that become known was that someone was here. But nobody knew who.
The physical death of a lover is devastating. Some people never actually recover. The best they ever manage is to continue in their own life. But they don't really live it anymore. The grief just doesn't go away.
They are lonely.
I won't say it is more or less painful, but when the lover lives but the loving has died it is very much like physical death. There is grieving. And some people never actually recover.
We're lonely.
I have been told by many people recently that if someone truly loves me, then in time they will let go of anger/hurt/whatever negative feelings they have and return to me. And if they don't ever return to me then they probably never really loved me in the first place.
I know they mean well, but does making me think they never loved me in the first place supposed to make me feel better? The only remaining joy I have of my lover turns out to be a lie? That means there are no happy memories.
When Blue-Eyed Boy was very young - couldn't walk or use many words - I had him with me in a store. He was fussy. Life gets awful samey when you're sitting in a shopping cart. And for people that young samey can get bad in a hurry. But before his fussed too much he saw something fantastic: a giant wind-up jumping Tigger toy. It was being demonstrated. Wind it up and it would bounce its head a few times and then do a big flip. Blue-Eyed Boy thought that was pretty cool. And by letting him hold on to one and play with it I was able to complete my shopping in peace.
I had no intention of buying the toy, so it never really belonged to Blue-Eyed Boy. But you all know what happened when I finished shopping and finally put Jumping Tigger back on the shelf? Blue-Eyed Boy was upset.
Now I have been lucky with Blue-Eyed Boy. He has only thrown one tantrum in his whole life. That was a difficult time, but we got through it well enough. It took the most difficult time out I've ever experienced. I sat with him. We were BOTH in time out. And maybe that's why he never had a tantrum again. He knew he was not alone.
But losing Jumping Tigger was hard. Blue-Eyed Boy had come to believe Jumping Tigger belonged to him. So having it taken away was not a matter of him not getting his way. It was like losing something he already had.
He didn't throw a tantrum. But he cried. He cried a cry he had never cried before, and only repeated since when we lost animals due to illness. He was grieving.
Did it matter to him that the toy had never really been his? That poor communication on my part had helped him misunderstand? No. That didn't matter at all. What mattered is that he had believed he had something precious. And now it was gone. It broke his heart.
There are those who probably disagree with what I did next. We were actually more than a mile away from the store when I stopped the car to try and talk with him. Then, crying myself, I turned around and went back to the store and bought Jumping Tigger. Blue-Eyed Boy still has it. Hasn't played with it in more than ten years, but he still has it.
That was the only time anything like that ever happened with Blue-Eyed Boy. Since then I have been careful to be more clear about what is - and what is not - his.
But why is it so wrong for me to feel the same way about a lover?
Does it matter their love was never actually mine in the first place? No. Because there was a time I was convinced it was. There was a time when I sat in my shopping cart content with what I believed was mine. And now that it has been taken away - - - - -
I'm grieving.
So go ahead and tell me I was never loved in the first place. The proof is that my plea for reconcilliation has been ignored. Not even a "no" answer. Just silence. Like I don't exist.
It doesn't matter if they never loved me. Because I believed they did. And now they don't. And it hurts. And I always feel like crying. And I don't know how long it's going to take to recover.
I'm lonely.
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