Polyamory: Safer-sex

I received an email from someone the other day asking:

Hey Silken, this whole polyamory thing makes me nervous because I'm paranoid about getting an STD.  Doesn't being poly increase your risk of STDs? I'd think poly people practice safe sex, but doesn't that get in the way of intimacy?

 1) There is no such thing as "safe sex".  Not even masturbation is safe sex, since you can give yourself something if you don't keep your toys clean. So, when we take precautions, it is safer-sex, but its still not 100% safe.

2) Practicing safer-sex is very, very important. But in poly-sexual situations it is critical. This is the 300# gorilla in the room that no one wants to talk about because it may seem paranoid, untrusting, crude, or melodramatic. As a proponent of polyamory, I am also an advocate of safer-sex practices, because the last thing I want to do is transmit something to someone I love.


3) Some people think that practicing safer-sex means using a condom during intercourse. This is naive, almost criminally so. If you are using condoms when you fuck but not when you suck him, or don't use gloves and a barrier when you are giving her oral, then you aren't practicing safer sex, you are playing at it. (Read more about how to have Safer Sex at About.com)


4) Polyamory is Polynomial. In the not too distant past, I had three partners. Three. Now lets do the math. If I have three partners, and each of them has one other partner, and each of their one-others has one-other, how many body-fluids are possibly being inter-exchanged? 10. That is a lot of semen and vaginal secretions, saliva and mucous membranes, and if I hadn't been scrupulous about screening my sex/play partners, then I put myself and everyone I was with, and everyone they were with, at risk.


5) Everyone who is sexually active in non-exclusive relationships should have regular screenings for STIs (sexually transmitted infections). You may trust your partner(s), but do you trust your partner's partners? Is your inner circle sexually responsible enough for fluid-bonding (Don't know what fluid bonding is, read this clear explanation at SmartSexTalk.com)? There are many stories of fluid-bonded couples who have had to go back to using barriers because one of them had poorly-protected sex or took on a secondary partner who couldn't provide proof of recent screenings and the other partner(s) felt it was prudent to practice safer-sex during the 6 month testing interim. 


6) The importance of confidentiality and/or anonymity for screening. Consider whether or not to use your insurer / primary physician for screenings. I know we are in the middle of a health care crisis and reform, and Insurers are Big Brother in all this. The have the pot of gold, they want to keep it to themselves, and they use your medical records to discriminate against you. If they know that you are regularly tested for STIs, they may consider that an indicator of "risky behavior" (rather than health maintenance) and drop you or raise your rates. There are companies out there like getSTDtested.com, as well as various local clinics, that offer testing at a variety of rates without compromising your medical history.



Just a few anecdotes:
   It is not uncommon for poly-couples to have a contract for themselves and their secondary partners -- contracts that are reviewed and signed prior to intimacy, not after. Such contracts often require that all partners be tested semi-annually, disclose any and all exposures, and to use barriers during sex for at least six months before considering moving to a "fluid-bonded" status. I've been presented with and signed more than a few of these over the years and I've always found them to be an affirmation of my judgment in my partners.


STIs can show up in surprising places:

   I have some friends in a monogamous relationship that were "serial-monogamy sluts" before they got married. They didn't realize they had genital herpes until he had a flare-up -- in his eye. He is one of those pussy-eaters who really likes to rub his face in it, soaking himself from his hairline to his chin. They aren't sure who gave it to whom, and though they've tried to notify past partners, for them, its too late. They've got it for life, and he gets to worry about going blind if he doesn't keep it under control.

   I have another friend who learned that a wart on her husband's finger have been transmitted to her vaginal and anal openings. The treatment was embarrassing, extremely unpleasant, and so painful she screamed every time she went pee for a week.

The message of this post? Even monogamous couples transmit STI's to each other. Practicing safer-sex isn't just about taking care of you: it is about taking care of the ones you love, and the ones they love, too. Yes, you might think it would interfere with intimacy -- if intimacy was just about sex. In my book, sexual intimacy (as delicious as it can be) is just the icing on the cake.

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Polyamory: Know Thyself First

 Earlier today the friend of a friend sent me an email:

I am currently working on reading the second edition of The Ethical Slut... was wondering if you had any ideas of other books I could read on poly that are any good?

Here is my response:

Regarding polyamory and reading material -- I've not read *any* books on it and very little in the way of online material. I come to polyamory by nurturing -- my parents are poly and I lived communally until I was 10 or so. So I can't really recommend any reading material from personal experience of it. I actually own The Ethical Slut but I've not read it. Why? I found myself resisting reading it and after thinking about it, decided that I didn't want to influence my own innate understanding of it with someone else's attempt to explain it or persuade others to give it a try.

That said, I have read a bit of the Loving More site (http://www.lovemore.com/) with an eye toward being a contributing writer. My friends Y and his wife X run the Poly Circle Discussion Group (http://pcdg.portlandpoly.org/) and the books I know they recommend in addition to The Ethical Slut, are:
'Polyamory: Roadmaps for the Clueless & Hopeful' (Ravenscroft)
'Polyamory: The New Love Without Limits' (Anapol)
'Opening Up: A Guide to Creating and Sustaining Open Relationships' (Taormino)

I've met Tristan Taormino and she is a friend of Y. She comes to Portland often to speak, so I'd say to try her book next.

I can tell you that the tendency of society to insist that we chose one person to be all things to us creates a lot of unnecessary tension and stress. A lot of people get into that mode of feeling like they settled for someone, settled for Mr Right Now instead of Mr Right, or worse, withhold forming intimate bonds thinking they'll miss out on something better later on if they do.

I can also tell you that being self-honest is an absolute necessity. Self-inquiry and contemplation are practices that you are going to need to be comfortable with -- you can't really have healthy relationships with others until you've established one with yourself. In many ways we are each of us the biggest mystery to ourselves. We don't know why we do half the shit we do -- we just do it. Getting eye-level with your consciousness and being alert to your feelings and reactions helps resolve a lot of the self-sabotaging that goes on in each of us. I recommend meditation and journalling. We are blessed with being self-aware and each of us is a book-in-progress, so write your story, revise it, consider how things could be done differently in future situations, and outline the future chapters. We can live life intentionally, rather than accidentally.

Establishing good self-communication then makes it possible to have good communication in relationships. Especially poly ones. Jealousy is the biggest problem in any relationship, be it sibling, friend, colleague or partner. And the root of jealousy is issues with scarcity / abundance. Being self-aware and having good self-communication means we can often intercept the negative self-talk that arises as a result of feeling threatened by the prospect of scarcity / loss. Being able to share our feelings and thoughts with partners is both beautiful and necessary, so long as we learn to approach it in such a way that it is not a Blame Game. As soon as we make someone "wrong" or as soon as someone feels we are making them "wrong" we've lost the opportunity to communicate effectively.

My ex-girlfriend used to say "You made me do it" or "You make me feel like I'm crazy" and it really pushed my buttons when she did. If she could find a way to make something someone else's fault, she would. She lived her life as a victim, and last I heard, she still does. But not me! I accept responsibility for my thoughts and actions, and I recognize that in the arena of thoughts and actions, I have control. But I also know that feelings are feelings, that they are what they are and that they arise from deep within, and I honor them and recognize that while how I feel is *always* appropriate (because it is how I feel) -- I get to choose both what I think about how I am feeling *and* what I'm going to do about it -- and thus I am responsible for the outcomes. There is no escaping that, no matter how much I may want to deny it, and did live in denial of it -- ultimately I am responsible for my life, and being involved with others who also accept responsibility for their lives makes everything easier.

So basically, I guess what I am trying to say, is the best thing you can do is to make sure that you're in a good place with yourself. If you are healthy and happy and self-aware, then everything flows naturally from that place -- if you have a loving relationship with yourself love comes naturally, and the more you love the more love comes your way. From there it makes sense to keep expanding the circle of loved ones and exploring the various permutations of loving -- there is little to lose and much to gain.

Lastly, be aware... things change. Like the ocean, we ebb and flow. One day or week or month we may want to be free to love anyone and everyone, and then the next, we want someone all to ourselves. Some of it is tied to hormones, seasons, lunar cycle, and emotional rhythms. Some if it has to do with aspects specific to each person we are involved with. It is important to remember that how we feel and what we want is valid AND that what others feel and want is also valid. Sometimes the two (or three or four ;) are in conflict and that is ok. The "conflict" may be temporary or permanent but it is only an earth-shattering disaster if we choose to make it one. Giving ourselves room to feel the emotional intensity while not succumbing to the pressing urge to act now is a good pressure valve to develop.

I hope I don't sound too preachy. You may already have some or all of this down and if so, great. If not, that is cool, too. I mean no insult or injury in what I'm trying to communicate, only a desire for you to know love and happiness. I've learned to operate from the space that everyone is perfect, whole and complete just as they are while also understanding that most people just don't realize they are ;)

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She threw herself at me

She threw herself at me.

Well, not really -- but it sounds good, doesn't it?

Actually she was standing too close to a tiki torch and when the wind blew the flame toward her, she leaped away from it -- and into me. It was rather nice having my arms full of a buxom blond who smelled like Lolita Lempicka. I helped her steady herself and smiled as she blushed and apologized profusely. The man I was talking to when she stumbled into me made introductions. As we shook hands, I noticed her wedding ring.

"Emily?" I said. "A lovely name for someone so warm and soft and sweet smelling."

The way she looked at me, I knew I'd read her right. Married she might be, but Emily liked girls. And dominants.

Our mutual friend Bruce laughed. He and Emily had a lot in common, apparently. Both were married, bisexual, and submissive. We chatted for a while, and I enjoyed the energy they sent my way. Subs do that in the presence of Dominants--they bend energy our way.

I turned to Bruce. "I brought my Sybian... if you help carry it in, I'll let you choose who rides first."

"Oh!" gasped Emily. "Me-me-me-me."

I smiled at Bruce and he gave his delightful laugh.



He laughed the same way when Emily climaxed later that night, her hips bucking on my Sybian and her eyes wide. She kept saying "OhMyGodOhMyGodOhMyGod" like a Buddhist reciting a mantra that had her on the cusp of enlightenment. And maybe she was. She looked utterly transformed: luminous, uninhibited, joyous. Her hair was a disheveled mess and her nipples, her little pink nipples, were incredibly hard, the large aureoles crinkled up tight.

I had slowly been turning down the vibration on the Sybian as she slid down her peak, looking drowsy and replete, but Bruce gave me a thumbs-up sign and moved behind Emily. He kneeled and pulled her back against him, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and another under her ribcage. Once he had her secure in his embrace, I goosed the power on the Sybian. Emily's eyes popped open.

"NoNoNoNoNoooo," she screamed. "Make it stop!" Her head tossed from side to side.

"Ever heard of forced orgasms, Emily?" I asked her. I knew I had a devilish expression on my face. I love making women cum.

Emily shook her head wildly. She choked on something that could have been a moan or a sob.

Bruce slid his fingers down her belly. I watched him tease her clit as I stepped out of my skirt, leaving a pool of silk on the floor. As I walked toward them, my fingers flicked my right thigh, the thigh that the holster for my strap-on dildo usually rode on. But not tonight. Tonight my tool of choice was the Sybaan.

I stood over them and gave first Bruce, and then Emily, a kiss. Then I took her hair in my hand and pulled it downward until her upturned face left her no where to look but my eyes.

"You are going to eat my pussy, Emily love, and you are going to make me cum. You are going to cum on my clit, making it vibrate with the force of your own screaming orgasms. And only your being limp and senseless will make it stop."

I tightened my fingers in her hair and pressed her face against my pussy. With my other hand, I pressed the control box against my thigh and turned it to its highest setting. Bruce leaned into Emily, forcing her pussy and clit down against the machine.

When she came, it was with an explosion of hot breath against my clit that went off like an explosion in the back of my mind. The keening sounds she made were muffled against my flesh, but the vibrations rippled through me, pebbling my skin with wave after wave of gooseflesh.

So close! I pressed myself firmly against her face until I could feel the suction of her mouth and nose struggling to find air. She sucked pussy juice deep into her nostrils and then I set her free, letting her gasp for air. Mmmm. So close!

I watched as Bruce humped his cock against Emily's ass, a blissed-out expression on his face.

"Finish in her mouth," I instructed him.

Bruce staggered to his feet and moved to stand before Emily while I got behind her on the Sybian. Even without the dildo attachment the vibration of the machine was enough to make me cum. I wrapped my arms around Emily and humped against her and the Sybian as Bruce cradled her head in his hands.

As profane as the scene might have seemed to someone else, to us there was something transcendent and sacred about the giving and taking of pleasure, of the abandonment of inhibitions and fears, and the release of our primal selves in this ages old dance to the orgiastic, orgasmic beat of carnal love pounded out in the drums of our flesh until we fell asleep in a sodden, tangled heap, our bodies imperfect instruments of the tireless, divine spark within.

The Luxury of Time

So last weekend was a long weekend spent at the Oregon Coast. A friend was celebrating her 40th birthday and rented this gorgeous villa overlooking a huge stretch of beach. I somehow lucked out in that I arrived before her family-contingent left and the friends-contingent joined us, so not only got to meet her family, but I got her mostly to myself for part of an evening and a day. She's a wonderful woman and I'm sad that I'm moving away just when I was looking forward to getting to know her well.

We talked about polyamory, and how she was doing in a relationship of hers. I made some recommendations based on experience and observation, mostly based on communicating clearly about her wants and needs, and giving her partner(s) the opportunity to decide for themselves what it is that they can and cannot do. From there, it is a lot easier to work out a future that has minimal angst.

The next morning was spent curled up on a loveseat looking at the ocean, reading, and chatting, and trying to recover from a sniffly cold. Early in the afternoon we went on a quest for live crab -- and found them! We brought 5 back and I boiled them up. Yum! By the time we got back with the crab, pretty much everyone was there -- a dozen of us, all interesting people connected to her in a variety of ways.

One of the guests is an excellent chef, and he created a salad to die for. We sat around and ate and drank copious amounts of wine and champagne. Then we soaked in the hot tub. Then we danced. Then the warm oil and the massage table came out. Then we rubbed. Yes... it was a delicious weekend in many ways.

Sunday I went back to Portland for a snuggle party I was facilitating. I'd say that 30 people showed up, and so many of them came to wish me well in my move down to California, that my heart was full of love and sadness. I was on the verge of tears for much of the night, and that is ok. I had the luxury of spending time snuggled up with a couple dozen people, and there is not much in life that beats that.

Life goes forward. My heart beats out the seconds between now and the end of my days, whenever that is. I nearly died this year--I know what a luxury the concept of 'spending time' is. There is no better time to do what I want than now. Right Now. Because tomorrow will come, but it may not come for me. Living for tomorrow is not a thing I can do anymore. Life is meant to be lived fully and powerfully, each and every moment.

God I love my life!

The monogamist and the polyamorist speak

"How was your vacation?" a woman friend asked.
I closed my eyes and sighed voluptuously. "Wonderful. Mr X was amazing."
My friend gasped. "But what about Mr M?"
I frowned a little, confused by her question. "Mr M and I are still an item."
She looked like her brain hurt. "Both??"
"You know I'm poly..." I told her.
"Yes, but I don't get it. I thought you loved Mr M."
"I do. Very much."
"Then why someone else?"
"I love Mr X, too. And Ms Y, and Mr Z."
"I'm so confused," she almost-wailed.
I took her hand. "I love you. We've shared the same bed. Snuggled up, touched, shared comfort and tears. Most people would think we were lovers, that our friendship crosses certain 'boundaries', right?"
"Yes, but..."
"But its not like that, right? Or, but they don't understand. Or, but its natural. Or, but we love each other like sisters. Being poly isn't about sex. I'm not a swinger. I love. Sometimes that love expresses itself sexually. Most of the time it doesn't. "
"But you've got someone in your life who loves you so much, Kay, and you love him."
"Yes."
"So why don't you settle down with him? Why other people?"
"One person cannot be all things to another--not for extended periods of time. Besides, why keep all my love just to ourselves? I mean, by your logic, if I can't still be loving with Mr X and Mr Z because of my relationship with Mr M, then I shouldn't be loving with you, or Ms Y, either."
"That's different. We're not sexually involved."
"It doesn't matter. It feels good--being with you feels good. And it seems like the dominant culture thinks that if you are in a relationship with someone and you enjoy feeling good with someone else, you're being bad."
She looked thoughtful. "That is a bit of a stretch, Kay."
"Oh really?" I leaned forward. "What if you were a man. Or I was. Would feeling good with me --you know-- massaging, hugging, laughing, talking, sleeping together -- would feeling good with me be something your Mr M would have problems with?"
"Well, of course."
"Why of course?"
"Why?"
"Yes, why? Why does a change in gender change the acceptability of us being loving with each other?"
"Because it could lead to sex."
"Sweetie, I'm bi. I like women and men. So by your logic, you and I shouldn't snuggle and we certainly shouldn't sleep in the same bed together."
"Oh Kay, don't be silly. Its not like that between us."
"No, it isn't. You know that, and I know that, but people outside our relationship don't. They draw their own conclusions, right or wrong."
"So what does that have to do with Mr M and Mr X?"
"Only Mr M and I really know what our relationship is. The same with me and Mr X, and me and you. I love, sweetie. I don't have sex with everyone I love. But I love everyone I have sex with. And whether or not I'm having sex with someone is of far less importance than loving them and being the best possible person I can be in that relationship."
"It makes sense when you apply it in terms of you, but I don't see how it works out in the real world."
"I think it probably works as well as or better than monogamy. Time will tell which works better, serial monogamy, or polyamory."
She nodded, looked thoughtful for a moment. A sly, somewhat furtive expression lighted her face and she leaned forward. In a whisper, she asked, "So who is better in bed, Mr M or Mr X?"
"I've no idea," I answered.
"You've lost me again," she said.
"I know. Lets leave it that way."

Jealousy, posessiveness, fear, change, LOVE

Possessiveness, territoriality, the hoarding mentality -- those things have always been so difficult for me to handle in loving relationships. When I was a child, I learned that the harder I tried to hold onto something I feared losing, the more of a certainty that fear became. So I simultaneously arrived at two things: In recognizing that loss was inevitable, I stopped fearing it. And, perhaps fatalistically, I prepared for it. In my past three long term relationships, which ran from 1988 through 2004, I had the same conversations with each of them: That nothing lasts forever, that no one person can be all things to another, that attraction to others is inevitable, that if one of us meets someone else we will be happier with, we should give our blessings to them. The happiness and well-being of the ones I love is essential to my own.

And so I find myself in a relationship with a man whose love makes me a little bit giddy. Who says the sweetest, corniest things that lure my inner child to come out and play. Who has more kindness and constancy in him than I had thought possible in someone of our generation. A man who devilishly plays with my libido like it is a cross between a lute and a cat's toy. He delights in me, melts at my touch, makes me laugh, and supports me. But he also wants me all to himself. And therein lies the very heart of the problem.

I've asked him for 6 months. Give me 6 months. There is a lot going on in my life, my world, and choosing him--which something in me very much wants to do and at the same time is very afraid to do--would be a huge change in my life. Not just a change from polyamory to monogamy, but a change in place, which would mean leaving my community. But when I ask myself what I want, more and more, I find myself answering "him", and when I think about it, I recognize that if I do not choose "us", then I'll always wonder what might have been.

Where does the desire for personal freedom and self-expression find itself when two people merge their lives to form an exclusive partnership? I remember what happened to it when I was younger, less secure in myself, more eager to 'fix' others or to 'make them happy.' I am so far from that place, and yet , I know that it is my daily rituals, my affirmations of self and non-self, my me-time, the pure freedom to be spontaneous--that it is these things which maintain the self I know as 'me' me. And I have seen how easy it is to slide out of healthy habits and ways of being, to let things slip for love, and I find myself conflicted, clinging almost jealously to my current life and way of being in the face of... love. There is tremendous possibility there. I love him like I have never loved another, in ways I never thought possible for me, and I know myself for 10 kinds of a fool if I pass up those possibilities out of fear or possessiveness.

"Mine. I am mine. No one claims me. No one owns me," my inner child says while at the same time she reaches out to him, teases him, shares with him. Loves him.

I like things just the way they are, and yet I know that change is inevitable. He won't keep forever like a doll in a glass case. He's a person with his own needs and desires. I suppose I am faced with the choices we all are: shall I sit on the side of the path and wait for Life to happen and choose for me? Or shall I take action and choose for myself what I want from Life, even knowing the path I choose to walk may not lead where I wanted?

I am reminded of the final words of a poem by slam-poet Shane Koyczan that go something like this: "Its a game. You play, you win. You play, you lose. You play. The world is a window that holds a sign. There is 'help wanted' out there but if you are playing to win, the first thing you have to do is 'apply within'."

Six months. Six months to wrestle with my choices and then take a stand for my own happiness, for what I want for myself and my life. Six months. 180 days. So many days. Why does it feel like so little time?

Beaming metta in the rain

Yesterday I met up with some friends for lunch in Chinatown. We had sushi of course. They are poly, and I really like her, I did the photography for their wedding a few months ago. They've been very good to me since my sister died, and he's been concerned about my being anti-social, so Thursday, Friday and Saturday I spent some time with him. Its been good for me. After lunch we parted ways. I was pouring rain so they had their car instead of taking the Max home, and I walked toward the Chinese Garden.

I called my sister and we spoke briefly. I've been beaming a lot of metta her way, and I think I must have left it on, because when I got to the Chinese Garden, I noticed people were noticing me. I normally do a good job of being Plain Jane and avoiding notice, so I must have left my energy level turned up like a beacon in order to catch the attention of so many people. The first was a little boy. He was walking along a path and then he just stopped and stared at me. I looked back at him and smiled and still he stared, and then when I spoke to him he walked to a corner and turned it and then peeked back at me. I caught him glancing my way quite often. Shortly thereafter a man asked me a question about a penjing on display, and we got into a conversation about bamboo. Later, two women, same thing.

I had just finished my first walk around the garden and exchanged a few words with a young man wearing a back-pack when I decided to go into the tea house. It being a rainy day, the place was crowded with people, and the windows were thrown open to let in the sights, scents, and fresh air that is so keenly appreciated here in the Pacific Northwest. I went upstairs and while I waited to be seated, I noticed a woman sitting alone at a table. She was one of the three I had seen in wheelchairs at the garden yesterday, and everyone else in the room had company, so I asked her if she would mind if I shared her table. She graciously accepted my self-invitation. We talked for a bit and then my tea and lotus-seed mooncake arrived. She has cerebral palsy and has no fine motor-control, so I hand-fed her bites of the mooncake wedges. Does that sound strange? It seemed very natural at the time, but in retrospect, it is a bit odd that two strangers would sit at a table and establish enough of a rapport that one would allow the other the intimacy of feeding them. She finished her tea and left and I remained for a while, looking out the windows. Its like being in a tree-house, with The Big Pink dominating the skyline like a redwood tree.

I knew there was someone behind me and to my left and after I paid for my tea and turned, I recognized him. The college kid.

"You should have asked if you could join us," I said to him.

"I didn't want to intrude on you and your friend," he responded.

"Oh, I met her just now. I asked her if she wanted to share her table."

His expression was bemused. "Do you come here often?" he asked me.

"Yes, I am a member."

"So am I," he said, "We can have tea next time."

I smiled and nodded and walked downstairs and out into the garden again, to enjoy its beauty and try to capture it on camera. A man was doing walking meditation though the garden, chanting a mantra. I stopped to listen and then turned to smile at him and he stopped for a long moment, looking at me. I held his gaze for a bit and then continued walking the paths, camera in hand. He followed me after that through much of the garden, and I noticed that he would stop in the places I had paused to photograph or just gaze, and then he would move on. Eventually, I finished my second circumnavigation of the garden and wandered out into Chinatown.

Here are some photos. The one with the girl and the lion has an interesting story. I was looking through a window in at a porcelain dragon, when the little girl behind me leaned over the railing to look at the fish. When she did, her reflection draped itself over the lion's head. I snapped the photo and just a moment later she moved. I thought I had missed the shot, but I did not.

Stages of pleasuring

I have lived an interesting life. Before I reached puberty I witnessed a wider variety of sexual intercourse than most adults see in their lifetimes. As a child, I did not know that other kid's parents only slept with each other. I did not know that the limit was usually two adults to a bed--my parents always seemed to have friends in their bed--nor that sex is usually reserved for the bedroom. I did not know that boys having sex with boys and girls having sex with girls was taboo. I did not know that nudity in the home was uncommon, etc.

Masturbation was something we were very open about. When I was 4 or 5 and my mom found me touching myself in a sunny spot in the living room, she didn't slap my hand. Instead, she told me that if I wanted to do that it was probably best to do it in my room. I understood early on that sex was something grown-ups did, and it was not something I was eager to rush into. It did not have the secrecy, the shame, or the thrill of the forbidden for me that it did for most kids. In this environment, my sexual identity flourished, unfettered by the boundaries most people develop. I am free, uninhibited--my sexual self is fully expressed. But this does not mean I am promiscuous or indiscriminate, an assumption that mainstream, vanilla humanity tends to make when they catch wind of my lifestyle.

I am polyamorous. I date a wide variety of people. I have sex with two of them. Most of the ones who are not my lovers I have been dating for a year and more. I form deep, intense connections rather quickly, but I do not rush into sexual intercourse, or sexual intimacy for that matter. Without a mental connection, sex is just a form of exercise that may or may not result in orgasm, and if I want to cum, no one can do it better for me than I can.

Recently someone asked me what I did do with these people if I did not have sex with them. Heh. It depends. Some get kisses, which may not sound like much, but I have it on good authority that kissing me is better than some sex people have had. Kissing is wonderful, delicious, arousing. It makes me feel sooo good. It is its own journey and destination. Then there is frottage. I love to frot with people I feel connected to. I'm very good with my hands after so many years of practicing massage. I like pleasuring others with my hands and I love the rub of bodies against each other, both languidly and with rising urgency. I haven't dated a woman for a while but there is nothing quite like scissoring with a woman, rubbing together on a dance floor or in bed, lost in the tribadic subset of frottage. Mutual masturbation (to orgasm) and languissement is something I've experienced with two of the men who are not my lovers. Lastly, there is the intercrural form of 'outercourse'. This is very intimate and little different from actual coitus save there is no penetration... just delicious friction and body movements that simulate coitus. I particularly enjoy it from behind, while spooning. There is someone I am dating that I am approaching this stage with. We had a frot session a couple of weeks ago that had my roommate convinced I was having some amazing sex, when in fact he was worshipping my back with his mouth and grinding himself against me in a way that had me moaning deliriously with pleasure. Or maybe it was the nipple-play that had me moaning that way? Its a sensual blur, to be sure.

The point is that there are many ways to enjoy others, many stages of pleasuring without sexual intercourse, depending on the level of mental, emotional, and spiritual intimacy I feel I have with that person. We each define 'sex' differently, and pleasure, particularly pleasure that results in sexual arousal, is so nuanced. So coloured by the experiences of childhood and adolescence. So limited and charged and judged by social mores and conditioning. I've thought about my sexuality, the stages of sexual arousal and pleasure, about intimacy and what it means to love and be with--to really love and be with--others. Have you?

Women as objects of love and desire

Photo: The Sandstone Pudendum in Kolob Canyon, Zion National Park, Utah, USA (c) KR Silkenvoice
This is an essay about women as objects of love and desire. It is long and rambling, but it does have a point. Hopefully you will get it.

I tried to deny it for years, but I finally came to accept that my earthiness and sensuality can be powerfully attractive to people--regardless of gender. I am open, warm, relaxed, and most people feel comfortable around me--and feel comfortable talking to me about things they normally wouldn't dream of discussing with someone else. Due to the type of work I moonlight at (that is, writing & recording erotica) I come into contact with a lot of people who are already primed for conversation with sexual content. Especially men. Especially online.

Often, when I am conversing with a man, it becomes apparent that he is married or otherwise partnered and looking for a vicarious sexual outlet. Now, I'm not interested in wrecking homes or stealing husbands. Nor am I looking for another lover. I've never had an interest in marrying, and my chosen love-style, polyamory, is one that most people cannot handle well -- they're conditioned to the possessiveness and jealousy and insecurity which the socially-approved institution of serial monogamy engenders. So men talk to me. And depending on my intuition, on their responses to my questions, or the ideas I put out there, I'll often guide them towards erotic objectification of their partners -- instead of (or at the very least in addition to) me.

Now, I should state that I've observed that when men have been with their women for an extended period of time, their women become 'self' instead of 'other'. Which is a good thing, right? Well, mostly. The problem is that when a man internalizes a woman -- takes her identity into himself and begins to see her as an extension of himself -- she is no longer an object of mystery, novelty, denial, teasing. She is no longer a stand-alone individual -- instead, she is his, a part of himself, loved as he loves himself -- and thus she is no longer an object of erotic desire.

The happiest couples I know, the ones who are powerfully in-love after years and years together, seem to have one thing in common: a heathy sex life centered on her erotic objectification. For him, she is a fetish object, a talismanic creature radiating mystery and sensuality -- a Goddess. For her, he is the Summer King, her lover and acolyte, eternally in her thrall. They re-enact the ages old rites of worship between male and female, seeking to penetrate the barriers of their solitude in order to become as one, even if only for those few moments of orgasmic bliss.

Otto Kernberg wrote a book on love relationships which contained an analysis of a Hindu text known as the Ramayana, and in this book he stated: "...the beloved presents himself or herself simultaneously as a body which can be penetrated and a consciousness which is impenetrable. Love is the revelation of the other person's freedom. The contradictory nature of love is that desire aspires to be fulfilled by the destruction of the desired object, and love discovers that this object is indestructable and cannot be substituted."

At some point we all make this discovery, realizing, at least subconsciously, that the object of love and desire is both within our grasp and eternally beyond it. At this point, one of three decisions is made: one, to abandon the object and go in search of one that can be fully possessed/internalized, two, to hold on to the object, internalize what we can of them, and ignore/deny/attempt to destroy what we cannot possess, or three, celebrate the oft-times conflicting duality of love and desire, taking as much of the other as we can into our selves, and enjoy the mystery and delight of trying to grasp what can never be held -- no matter how hard we try. The way in which we cope with this love conundrum determines how well our relationships work, and how long they last.

End of spiritual and psychological analysis. Lets get back to sex.

So, as I established earlier, when men are with women for a long while, the women become 'self' instead of remaining 'other', and in order to re-eroticize their partners, men seem to need to objectify them -- to restore the mystery to the object of their sexual fulfillment. And for some reason I want to help make this happen.

How? Well, I'll sometimes guide conversation or role-play towards erotic objectification of their partners... sometimes the fantasies will be woman-woman, asking questions like, "Would you like to see her face between my thighs? Watch her press her lips to my bare pussy?" I sometimes invite them in..."Would you like to slip up behind her, and fuck her nice and slow while she eats me?" Once I have made the decision to re-eroticize someone's partner, I rarely, ever, suggest sexual intercourse between myself and him. I do not want him to focus on me as an erotic object, but on his wife. In general, my goal is for him to get 'off' thinking about HER, not ME. If he has D/s leanings, sometimes I'll suggest that I'll make his wife submit to me, and allow him to watch -- so long as he does not move or speak unless given permission -- regardless of what I do to her or what she says. This suggestion is powerfully erotic to many men. Sometimes I'll guide him through use of his wife in such a way that will 'please' me.. get him all worked up and then tell him to go to bed and wake his wife and take her... and report back to me on her responses. This has had spectacular results for some couples, results that have amazed the men... they wonder how I know that their wives will respond well to x or y or z, and I tell them its from what I learn from them about their wives...

I am sure a lot of women would freak out about this type of exchange... and here is where the humour of it all comes in. I am a woman who understands men. But I also understand women -- as much as it is possible to understand women. And women, well, we are raunchy. We tell our girlfriends things that make grown men blush. Our girlfriends tell us things that make us roar with laughter, make us horny as hell. We tease each other, flirt with each other. We talk about the best places to buy lingerie and sex toys, about the latest things we tried on our lovers. But heaven forbid if our lovers talk about it. Especially if the person they are talking to is another woman. Heads will roll. Tears will fall. Words like 'betrayal' and 'violation' will resonate in the air. And its ridiculous, the hypocrisy of it. Because for women, their lovers are also no longer 'other', they are 'self' and so talking about their lovers to whomever they choose is their right. But heaven forbid their lovers show an ounce of individuality and discuss such deeply private and personal things with someone else--especially another woman! Oh my.

It is illogical. I call it fuzzy feminine logic. And unfortunately, we're stuck with it. But we can work with it, keeping in mind that simply because women often defy logic does not mean they are irrational. I mean, part of what makes women an eternal mystery to men is this fuzzy, nuanced, emotional logic -- men don't 'get' it. In the everyday world, women are nuts and men are baffled. What men need from women is very simple, and what they want from women is very simple, but women are not simple. We are complex. We think that what we want most is to be understood, but really, we do not. We are complex and what we want from men is not that they understand everything about us, but that they understand that our natures dictate that we be true to the moment, and that this is both valid and rational. We like change, we need change, we are change. We are the source of creation and sustenance. We are mystery incarnate. We are objects of love, of desire, of denial, of fulfillment.

I suppose, when it comes down to it, my argument is that 'objectification of women' is a good thing. Perhaps the feminist movement's efforts to change the fundamental tendancy of men to eroticize women needs to take into consideration the archetypes which this touches upon, the deep-seated psychological reasons for objectification, and how it benefits both genders. Because as I see it, if romantic relationships between women and men are going to be fulfilling in the long term, women need to find ways to continue being erotic objects -- and men need to find ways to continue being enthralled by the objects of their love and desire.

Life after work and illness

So I caught bronchitis after 6 weeks of working 1o-12 hour days. Two weeks, 4.5 days off work, and two inhalers later, I decided it would be good to resume my social life. So I accepted a few invitations with the proviso that I could rest if I needed to. Thursday night I drove to CW's and he made me a good dinner (my first in a week) and when I was tired we curled up on his bed and watched some comedians. Friday M contacted me, invited me over for a dinner party. We ate lamb and talked and then the group of us, perhaps 15 people, piled together on and around the couch to watch a movie. It felt good to sit between M's legs, to lean back against his chest while we watched Goonies and tug on his long curls and have him slide his hands down my arms and rest his chin on my head and just be. It also felt good to cuddle with J on Saturday night, to listen to the strong, slow beat of his heart, to feel his hard, firm body snuggled up against my softness and know how much he likes it that I am plump (as odd as it seems to me). I think I will take tomorrow as a day of rest.

Just your average blog entry

Last week a nasty cold fell on me like an avalanche, wiping out my voice, and filling my lungs. I left work at noon on Wednesday and it wasn't until Sunday that I could get out of bed without feeling dizzy. So I stayed in bed. A dozen long-stemmed roses in a gorgeous salmon-pink colour arrived to grace my room on Thursday, a bit of beauty to raise my spirits. This afternoon, more flowers, this time at work (a big no-no): an arrangement of orchids and interesting greenery. The card read "Stubborn wench--at work when you should be at home, in bed..." I added the parenthetical "with me" that he left off of the message, probably to save the florist embarrassment.

A cold front hit the Pacific Northwest at the same time. It was interesting to look at little drifts of sun-sheltered snow on vivid green grass. Such a contrast. The culms of the black bamboo seem so dark right now, the leaves sparser and less vivid. The holly trees are full of berries this year. Big red berries that show up so well against the spiky, waxy leaves. I really need to get out and take some photos. I've been wanting to for days, but I dared not go out in below-freezing weather, not with my lungs so full of crap. Perhaps this week.

I finished a naughty story yesterday, the seeds of which started months ago but which I just didn't have time to do right. I wanted to do a D/s story, but I wanted to get the nuances right, the psychology, the dialogue, the scenario. I'm fairly pleased with it, though I know some people think I will have ended it prematurely. I just don't feel it necessary to spell out what any reader knows is going to happen. That is the thing about erotica. You know the ending before you even start reading :) I doubt I'll record this one, there is too much male dialogue.

Plans for next month are shaping up. An upcoming seminar in San Fransisco just before my birthday prompted me to take some extra vacation time to spend with loved ones in the area. It should be a very full 10 days. Hopefully the weather will be conducive to photography. I may even bring my tripod.

The intensity level seems to be ratcheting up in some of my relationships. I don't know if it is a function of my stress-level or my customary availability during this period in my work. But I am being asked on several fronts when I'm going find a less demanding job, when I'm going to settle down, narrow down the list of people I'm dating, etc. I've got some great people in my life, people I enjoy so much and enjoy dating casually, no intimacy pressure or awkwardness, a fair number of whom are 'poly' people. And then the two most intense, rewarding, and frustrating relationships are with men who are monogamous, love me, 'wouldn't ask me to be exclusive' and yet aren't happy. I've offered to end the relationships. I've offered to eliminate physical intimacy and focus on what is important: relating. But that is not what they want. No, they want me available and all to themselves. And I'm floored. They are both good-looking, personable, financially-stable professionals that just about any single woman between the ages of 25 and 40 would gladly date. So why do they want me? Or why don't I want to pick one and settle down? Oddly enough, this is not good for my ego. And its definitely not good for my peace of mind.

There is so much love in me. I think learning metta meditation, learning to project that love out into the world, has helped to diminish some of that compelling intensity I bring to my deeper relationships. But not enough, I think, for one person to bear the force of it, of what they both seem to covet for themselves--my uniqueness. I am of the mind, however, to give one of them what he thinks he wants. And see how quickly he changes his mind. I don't think either of them is capable of valuing what being in a monogamous relationship with me really means. All of my intensity, my libido, my intellect, my spontaneity, my intuition, my emotions--everything I've honed in the past 2 years I've been single gathered up and devoted to one person, focused on one person? Heh. They would be intimidated.

They both deny it, but they would. I don't know why, but even when I try to be open and warm, I intimidate some people. Daily, prolonged exposure to me seems to make my partners feel insecure or overwhelmed or whatever. I am whole unto myself, self-contained and self-reliant. I don't need any one person. And men need to be needed. They need to feel they have a purpose in a woman's life, a reason to be: protector, friend, lover, provider. But no one person can be all things to another. Its a fallacy that monogamists the world-over have bought into and try to brainwash and socialize others into believing--that you're not whole until you find your other half. And two men I love think that their individual self-interest is jeopardized by the presence of other loved-ones in my life. They don't realize that it is not the others they have to worry about competing with for me. Its me.

The pulse of a new and better year

Perhaps it is the pagan in me, but I think the new year begins the day after winter solstice. The day after Longest Night. But for most people, the New Year begins according to the Julian calendar.

And so, according to this modern calendar, my New Year began with dreams. Dreams fuelled by post-orgasmic endorphins. Endorphins from one of the strongest orgasms I've ever had. I was on edge for well-over half an hour, and when I climaxed, it was like an earthquake hit me--rolled through me in successive waves of orgasmic aftershocks. It lasted for a long long time, and when I was done, he urged me on again to one more. He knows I love the torment of trying to reach another climax on the heels of such an intensely satisfying cum. And when I was done, I fell immediately asleep. I know he spoke to me, but I do not remember the words, just the sound of his voice... and then sleep. And dreams.

I dreamed of all sorts of things.

One dream was that I was travelling overseas and was hit over the head, and when I came to myself I was walking with my bags rolling behind me, and they seemed to be too light. When I opened them they were empty, and I was panicked because my ID had been in my baggage. There was no way to prove who I was. It seemed very important to be able to prove who I was.

I dreamed of my sister, the one who has been ill. I was looking for her. I never did find her.

I dreamed of K as a swashbuckler. He strode up to me in his kilt, with a bottle of cognac in one hand and his hand on the hilt of his sabre. He pulled me to him for a kiss. I opened my mouth to him and time stopped. We fell into a dreamy place where kissing is the most intimate, sensual exporation of another person.

I dreamed of my friend J, that we were snuggled on his couch, and his belgian shepherd licked my bare thigh, making me squirm against him, and he hugged me and his fingers found my nipple... and then I slid into another dream.

I dreamed of M, who said he was inherently monogamous and he wanted me to be the same, that it hurt him, knowing I loved others, and so he pushed me away and disappeared behind an emotional wall. And I was a little girl again, banging on that wall, and there were so many things I wanted to yell over it, but I knew he would not hear me because I'd lost my voice.

I dreamed about planting bulbs -- that no sooner did I cover the bulbs with soil than they sprouted and started flowering. There was something frightening about it, about the accelerated growth, and I started putting the bulbs in the ground as fast as I could, to get them out of my hands. I was frantic, and when I realized it, I stopped, and sat back on my heels, and breathed, and in that moment I realized that I did not have to plant all of the bulbs in my hands, that I did not need to fear the sudden blossoming of the bulbs that I'd touched.

I dreamed of C standing before me, so tall, so fucking tall, reminding me that he is a patient man, but not a saint. He appeared again, later on, tugging on nipple-clamps while his fingers worked inside me, even as I flogged G's wife, my pretty little pony. The dream-memory of the pink stripes on her ass and the horse-tail dildo sticking out of it makes me wet, even as I type this.

I had many other dreams, most of them just little flashes in my head now. I slept until nearly noon, awakening groggy from last night's cognac to an oddly quiet world. There was a soft light coming through the bedroom window, soft and diffuse, and when I got up, I knew why... the sky was bright and white with thick mist, and a light rain fell. I moved to the kitchen to brew coffee and while I waited, stood at the window and watched the rain fall on the bamboo leaves. Beyond the bamboo the golf course glistened, glowed with the green of new grass.

I settled into the armchair with a lap rug and my lap top computer and began my New Years conversations with friends and loved ones, still fuzzy from my rest and dreams. I resolved to do nothing today, especially no chores, and to do minimal cooking. I am a human being, not a human doing, and it seems like I'm always 'doing' something.

I have high hopes for this New Year. I dare to have hopes. Certainly 2006 was one of the most difficult years of my life, more painful in ways than the year my mother and grandmother died. And yet I've survived, and more than that, thrived. My resiliance astonishes even me, at times. And despite shattering news from someone who has become a very dear friend, I expect 2007 to be a good year. The year I turn 39. Year three of the new me. Whee!

(Regarding the photo: Can you see the one heart, formed by cock and cunt?)

Absent the need for certainty: growing a friendship

Absent the need for certainty: growing a friendship. Enjoying being present. Facing and discussing what arose. Struggling to remain open and vulnverable. Allowing energy to flow.

I had an interesting evening with a friend-in-the-making who asked perceptive questions that made me think, and because I was open to him, often triggered emotional responses.

Opening to possibility (Me: One of the first things I tell some one when we get into a relationship is: "I promise I will hurt you. I also promise I will never hurt you intentionally." He: Wouldn't a better choice of words be "I may hurt you.." The way you word it you are guaranteeing it will happen instead of allowing for the possibility of it. Me: Its a certainty. Miscommunication happens. Things happen. No matter how hard we try, the ones we love still feel hurt by things we say and do. So, that choice of words is deliberate. He: But wouldn't you rather chose an option that allows for the possibiltiy of not hurting the ones you love? Me: That is possible, but improbable. He: Still, we're not talking about statisical probabilities here. We're talking about relationships and allowing for the possibility.. why do you feel it necessary to set those expectations? Me: I am pragmatic. Its a warning, an acknowledgement that at times I will hurt the ones I love unintentionally. And a reminder to myself that the ones I love will hurt me, as well. Hmm... I will consider what you are saying. You are right that such wording does negate the possibility of not hurting someone.)

Opening to fears (He: Are you afraid of connection? Me: Yes. He: Why? Me: *hesitation*. He: Don't think, just answer. Me: Some of it is that childish abandonment issue from my mother disappearing when I was 9 or 10. Some if it has to do with Love. Some people stop loving, and I don't. The relationship may change but the reasons I love people are still there. I still love them. I don't understand how people can just stop loving someone, loving me. And that hurts. But more than that, it confuses me, baffles me, rocks the foundation of my inner-reality (love). So I'm very cautious about who I build connections with.)

Opening to what we want or need from each other. Expectations of our relationship, or more suitably, lack thereof. What we sense can grow between us -- there is a sense of boundless intimacy. That question I have--will he become a friend of the soul? I would like that.

Talking about the difference between being terse and being succinct, and my tendancy at times to be the former in an attempt to be the latter. Discussed Polyamory and Monogamy. His desire to educate not only the monogamous masses, but those struggling to make polyamory work for them so they don't participate in a string of divorces or serial monogamy. Awareness that one person cannot be all things to another, and even if they are, that such a state is unsustainable. Jealousy, and my statement that I do not feel it or experience it, and how this hinders my ability to understand it in others.

My face pressed to his chest, hot tears for no real reason. Simultaneously knowing it was alright, and fearing this release would be too much for him. I fiercely hate crying. But he is far more comfortable with tears and emotions than I am, and he did all the right things. And in that moment, one of the petals of the lotus unfolded. And that first petal was trust.

Honoring what lies between us

Sprawled in his bed, spent, the burgundy sheets pulled up over one thigh, draping my hips. The other leg thrown wide, toes flexing occasionally as orgasmic aftershocks jolt me. I feel a bit like a boat bumping against its moorings. Him sitting up against the headboard, drinking water, the blond hair on his chest glistening dark gold with sweat. My head resting on his thigh, inhaling deeply of the scent of 'us' that rises from his groin. Such an amazing scent. I smile, basking in that scent. Start to doze off and start awake. It is late. I move to slide away. Its a half-hour drive home. Large hands cup my breasts, long-fingered and deft, o so deft as he tweaks one of my nipples. "Stay", he says, softly. No intonation, nothing for me to object to. I shift onto my side, my body forming an 'L', toes brushing the headboard. I look up into his face, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Mmmm.... but I want to sleep in my own bed." He sighs. Leans forward. Rests his forearms on his knees. "Would it help if I got a tempurpedic?" he asks, not for the first time. "I like your bed," I tell him. Its very comfortable. A luxury pillow-top, like the ones at my favorite hotel chain. I reach out, stroke his calf, trail my fingers along the crease between it and his forearm. He takes my hand, kisses it. His nostrils flare a little and I know he can smell my juices, mild as the scent is. He is remarkably attuned to my pheromones. "You don't want to stay with me because you are afraid." He looks into my eyes, his expression expectant. "Absolutely," I agree. This surprises him, because I usually stubbornly refuse to admit fear. "You are so afraid of committment," he ventures. I think on that for a moment. In the past, I've not been afraid of commitment. In my previous relationships I readily admitted my feelings and took that dive. But right now... "I'm not afraid of commitment. I just don't want a serious relationship right now, for good reasons. Yes, some of it is fear. I have this aversion to depending on people that I still need to work on. I'm afraid I've not done enough work to break past habits. I'm afraid I'll make the same old mistakes again." I push myself up, leaning on one palm so we are eye-level. My other hand slips up his shoulder, squeezes. Tangles in the hair at the nape of his neck. I hold his gaze with mine. "And part of it is that I'm really enjoying being single and seeing lots of people and having fun. And staying here, with you, implies a commitment that could later be used as a wedge between me and the life I so enjoy leading." My heart fills with love for him. I project it outward even as I lean forward to kiss him, brushing my lips against his. "Stay anyway," he whispers, "No commitment implied. I miss the feel of you snuggled up against me.". A hard kiss. His fingers cup my head, slipping through my hair, still damp from exertion. He breaks the kiss. Leans his forehead against mine. "Besides... I love what you do with the morning wood." Ah! Devious man! I grin and relent. I stay over so rarely... We settle into the rumpled bed, my head pillowed on his arm. His body spoons against mine, chest pressing into my back. His slightly tumescent cock nestles just under my ass, at the top of my thighs. I wiggle my bottom against it in a silent promise. Just wait 'til morning, I think. "I want to see how you blog this," he says, giving his consent. Smiling, I press my lips to his bicep and then dive into sleep. [click here for audio]

The Warm Fuzzy Story

Recently, a certain story has been percolating up in my mind, a story from when I was a child. I could not remember the details of it, only that it was a story about Warm Fuzzies and Cold Pricklies. I found the story online, and am including a link to it. As soon as I read it, I realized why it was coming back to mind (participation in the Love Tribe organization). And reading it again, I recognized what a role the story had played in the formation of my own (polyamorous/free love) relationship to love and loving.

Enjoy.

Irrepressible me

Life is better than I have any right to expect. I suppose it has a lot to do with the fact that I am irrepressible. I am incapable of being depressed, repressed, or suppressed for more than an hour or two at a time.

Plus, I have a lot to be grateful for. Especially my friends. And my roomie.

My roommate is a TPE domestic (while living with me, anyway) submissive named C. She is between Masters--in fact, I have right of refusal on her next one, as her heart (and cunt) have no brain cells and she tends to fall for real jerks (IMHO, most "Doms" are men who have issues with women or their own masculinity). Anyway, I called her from Las Vegas and asked her to chill a bottle of viognier for me. She spent all of Saturday cleaning house, so when I got home, everything was spotless, the wine was cold, and the hug was warm.

She did everything but the windows, which I did Sunday morning while she was still asleep, so she would not feel badly for missing them. Sunday morning I was awake at 6am, five hours sleep on a tempurpedic being sufficient rest for me. I made a breakfast of granola and yogurt and blueberries, did some gardening, washed windows, and sat back to read a bit of Oscar Wilde. He always makes me smile. My current favorite of his epigrams is: "I have the simplest tastes. I am always satisfied with the best."

The silence and solitude of Sunday morning were truly golden. I do so love being alone. I basked in it, and slowly relaxed. I met M. for late lunch at Saburos (wonderful sushi--their unagi nigeri is so good, my mouth is watering remembering it). Spoke to B. about the Love Tribe Snuggle Salon starting at 6pm. He insisted it would be good for me, that I really needed it. He was right. Four hours of snuggling and massaging and I felt amazing afterwards. I'm a little sore today, but it was worth it.

When I got home from the Snuggle, C. was feeling social. I thanked her for all the things she'd done, and we sat on my bed and talked, and she showed me some of the fruits of her efforts with a graphic design project she is working on. It was good to be near her, and her undemanding socialness.

I take care of her, she takes care of me. I'm so lucky -- I always said I wanted a wife. Now I get all the benefits of one, w/o the sex. Which is fine :) I'm off women for a while, anway.

Weekend with a friend

I spent the weekend in San Francisco with a friend of mine, M, who is one of my three closest friends. We have a deeply intimate relationship, one which he describes as nebulous. He's been there for me in so many ways the past two years, my biggest supporter, the one I leaned on the most the first year after S and I broke up. During my period of celibacy he was a sexual sink for me, as well, which definately crossed a lot of male-female friendship lines. But at the time I did not have a female friend I felt intimate enough with to talk about the more erotic thoughts and feelings that were flowing through me as I practiced my libidinous brand of celibacy.

And so our intimacy developed and deepened until he was friend and confidant and lover-substitute. I have a talent for complicated relationships, I admit it. Particularly with men, as I prefer the compay of men as friends as well as lovers. But some of my hetero frienships are fraught with tensions, tensions I will not go into as I already posted my thoughts on the subject here. Suffice it to say, however, that the levels of intimacy that M and I achieved created problems when I started dating, because we come from opposite places with regards to loving relationships. I have no problems being mentally, emotionally, and physically intimate with my friends, be they male or female--to me it is a natural extension of my affection for them. Its not about romance or desire or passion... its about the deeply pleasurable sharing of self.

Dating, sexual activity--these created strain, not necessarily because he wanted me all to himself, but because he is territorial, and male, and normal (vanilla), and because suddenly my sexuality (now that others were involved) became a topic he was no longer comfortable discussing. Which hurt. I tried to respect the new boundaries, but kept running into his, because I don't have them. I am not a labyrinth of internal boundaries like most people. Anyway, we both made choices, we said and did things, we tried being there for each other, through our various crises, and slowly, over a six month period, we found ourselves saddened by the gulf growing between us. Physical distance was starting to translate into emotional distance, despite our best efforts at communication.

I love him. I love him like I love few people in my life. His happiness and well-being are important to my own. And the well-being of our relationship, whatever form it takes, is important to my own. And so I invited myself down to San Francisco for the weekend, determined to show us both that we can enjoy each other's company sans sexual tension. I masturbated like a fiend Friday night--drained my libido so completely that it really didn't start bouncing back until Monday night. I was so well-sated that it was safe to massage him awake Saturday morning, sitting at the foot of his water bed with the sunlight pouring over me and his wonderful sleepy scent filling the air. And Sunday I woke him up with a cuddle, spooning myself against him, letting love fill me and hoping it would seep into him, reassuring him of his importance and place in my life.

We visited the Exploratorium, walked through gardens and parks, ate sushi and dim sum, watched Princess Mononoke and a couple of Ghost in the Shell episodes. We savored the perfect weather, walking the hilly streets in the North Beach area, wading through the people who jammed the blockaded streets for the festival, and stretched out in the grass at the park to listen to music. We had some good conversation and comfortable silences, and as he drove me to the airport I knew we would both be ok. That the entity that is 'us' would be ok.

Baths, online dating, and reconsiling polyamory

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Bath night was delayed by one day, but it was worth it. The soap I ordered arrived, the delicious Roger&Gallet Gingember, which smells of ginger and sandalwood. While water filled the tub, I located one of my hinoki masu and opened the bottle of Taisetsu sake that had been chilling in the refrigerator. I lowered myself into the tub, leaned back, and closed my eyes. Ahhhh. The cold sake was a wonderful contrast to the hot water, and it did not take long for the combination to go to my head. No, indeed.

As I soaked, I thought about the past week or so, what I had experienced, what I had accomplished, and my interactions with my loved ones.

I had a date Monday night, a first-time date with someone I had chatted-up online. It was the first time I had done something like this, and I was a bit nervous because I've heard from women-friends that their first-dates with people they had met online rarely went well. But I wasn't terribly nervous, because M. and I clicked well, and I knew he wasn't one of those hard-up types looking for sex--he was too relaxed and comfortable with himself. So I called him and asked him if he wanted to come with me to Fry's, because I knew we both had things we wanted to pick up there. A very geek place to go on a first date, I suppose, but it worked.

When we met, the first thing I noticed about him was his smell. It was a good, healthy-male pheromone smell, with no discernable cologne. It was not an instant turn-on, but his scent was a bit distracting to me. The second thing was his hair. I could not resist the hair, I had to pull on one of the ringlets hanging down his back. The third thing was his energy, which meshed well with mine. We talked comfortably for the half hour drive there and back, and seeing as we had not run out of things to say, went for sushi. After sushi, his place for tea and conversation, and (surprise!) some lovely kisses. I really like him, and I look forward to seeng him again when he returns from his business trip.

Of course, C. knew I was going out with M., and of course I told him how well we hit it off. And of course, he was a bit irked. I told him that I'm not looking for a relationship and M. isn't looking for a relationship and seeing as how he (C.) travels so much and has such a full life with his sister's family when he is home, its not like me seeing M. occasionally (if I do) is going to interfere with my ability to see him.

This lead to a discussion last night about about how sad I find it that most people feel that adding another person to the 'loved' circle means less love for everyone in it. I asked him if the birth of his nephew Luke meant he loved his nephew Mark less. He said no.

I asked him if the birth of his sister when he was a child meant his parents loved him less. He said no, but there was an expression on his face that I recognized, because it expressed my own feelings when I was a child and they brought my infant sisters home. My family may not have loved me less, but from that day forward they sure paid a LOT more attention to my sisters than they did to me. They tried to explain to me that it had to do with being a baby, that I got the same sort of attention when I was a baby, that babies are helpless and need constant care... but the child in me only understood that she was feeling abandoned, and envious of the attention someone else was getting, attention that she wanted.

Love shared, my inner-child learned, means less for me. I think most adults, consciously or not, operate from that emotional place when it comes to relationships. And most never move from it, it seems. I've thought about how it is I managed to move past it. I talked to my therapist about it when I was going through so much angst over societal non-acceptance of my poly nature, and the conclusion I have reached is that it has to do with a capacity I have carried forward from childhood: the capacity to love.

Children love. It is what they do best. They do it with full trust and without reservation. When I hugged my niece last month for the first time in two years, I could feel the love in her. I thought it would burst from her skin if I squeezed her too hard. It pulsed in her, splattered me with messy kisses, flattered me with adoring eyes, warmed me with trusting limbs draped on me in sleep. She fell in love with me and I with her and neither of us loved anyone else less for it.

A child's capacity for love is limitless. And so is an adult's. Most just don't realize it. They still have a child's belief that time and attention equals proof of love, and love is limited by time and attention, and that competition for that limited commodity means less for them.

I soaked in the tub until the water was cool, thinking, wondering how to get across to people that love shared does not diminish. For me, Love defies the law of diminishing returns. The more I love, the more I can love. I haves o many amazing, wonderful people in my life. They enrich me, intoxicate me, challenge me. They are the hyacinths which feed my soul. If asked to choose amongst them, I would be unable to.

When I think about my last relationship, when I think about how it felt, not just being monogamous, but having my nature curbed and under attack, and living under the shroud of S's perpetual suspicion, I feel something akin to despair. I am sensual, tactile. I hug, I kiss, I touch, I smile at the people I care for. But for the most part, I had to reserve it all for S, who didn't like demonstrations of affection outside the bedroom. All those other avenues of love blockaded did not mean more love or security for S. The relationship slowly deteriorated as I withdrew more and more into myself, trying to avoid missteps that might be mis-interpreted by S. as sexual interest in someone else (Why don't you just go fuck him? was not an uncommon question).

For me, not being able to just love people the way I want (need?) to is a form of torture. I imagine what Yo-yo Ma would feel like in world in which he could only play one instrument, a single, much loved cello, despite the longing in his heart to touch other cellos and bring their voices to life. Or a chef whose only ingredient was chateaubriand. Or an artist who had the finest brushes and canvases...but only one colour of paint.

I love.
It is who I am.
It is what I do.

And C. (and a few others of my loved-ones), well, his adult mind understands my polyamorous nature. Its is inner-child that has trouble with it. Some people just can't get past their fear that sharing anything, especially someone's love, means less for them. I sure hope he can get past it though, because I'm done trying to curb the way I love in order to assuage a lover's fears. It makes me miserable. It diminishes me.

Thar Be Dragons Here!

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I've been giving some thought to my relationships and the people in my life, organizing my thoughts on why monogamy and monofidelity feel unnatural to me, and why polyamory and similar 'alternative' love-styles make sense to me, particularly in the context of the human dilemma of loneliness and isolation.

I've thought about how easy it is for us to spend our lives looking for that elusive something, always holding out for what we don't quite know, and how many of us do it, day in and day out, without recognizing that we are looking for ourselves.

Yes. The search for the perfect other is always a search for what we sense we lack. And the reason that we never find them is because the search goes on as long as we feel inadequate to ourselves, to our own needs.

Another 'yes'. There it is. Too many people hope to get from others what can only be provided by themselves. What a terrible thing this hope is. Such a great source of unhappiness.

For in our conviction that there is one special someone out there who will meet all our needs, all the time, we are transformed into needy, demanding children rather than healthy adults with resources enough for ourselves and for others who might need us.

What a terrible thing is the hope that keeps us living our lives as though we are but half of a whole, either constantly waiting for the other half, or making do with what is out there.

And what a moment of clarity it is to realize that we are each one person complete and total in ourselves, with multiple sources of supply and many people to love, and that we have only to be love, rather than to seek love, so that love grows from us and and flows from us as something to be shared, rather than consumed, or hoarded like a dragon's treasure.

I think that Life, love, relationships--these are a wires in which the current runs back and forth and around, from each to each, returning via different paths and with varying amplitudes, so that each exchange, each cycle, enhances and supplies energy to all parties involved.

And this thought leads to another realization, that when we limit ourselves to one or two others outside ourselves, to one mate, to one friend, to one mentor, we form closed circuits that isolate us from others. And the fewer intimate others in our lives, the more isolate we become.

Instead of forming relationships that close us off, instead of closing ourselves off in our disappointment, we humans need to form relationships that open us to ourselves, relationships that help us reach outside ourselves and become more than we are.

And we need more than one person in our lives. We need intimate friends, because they are the windows through which we see the world and peer into in order to see ourselves. They are the social mirror through which we determine the worth and purpose of our lives, and if we don't have friends, we see and understand much less about ourselves and the world than we otherwise would.

It is incomplete, this thought-process, but there it is. Not bad for a weekend's contemplation. And at the close of the weekend I have pondered what I am grateful for, and of course, I am most thankful for my friends and lovers. They enrich my life. They provide me with so many sources of love, with so many reasons to continue living and learning and growing.

I can only hope that I do the same for them.

Friday night sushi

Friday, RS asked me what I was doing for dinner: I told him I had no plans. So we went for sushi at a little hole-in-the-wall place, and sat outside under some flowering dogwoods, and talked. He told me I looked stressed. I teased him and told him he shouldn't tell a woman that she looks stressed, because it means she looks old. He laughed. He looked like he needed a laugh. He's lost a lot of weight the past couple of weeks, and I took the opportunity to ask him about it. He said he is having issues with his ex-lover.

And so we had a conversation about what we want in our next long-term partners.

He said that sex isn't as important as it once was, that companionship, that mental and emotional compatability were most important to him. He said that when a relationship is built mostly on sex, and the strong sexual attraction dies, which is almost always doomed to happen, then there isn't anything to sustain the relationship.

I asked him what if he came across a Great Love that was fulfilling on the mental and emotional and spiritual levels, but not sexually, would he walk away. And he leaned back in the chair and laid his head on the hands cupped behind his head and his expression became very pensive.

And he said: "I don't know... sex is very important..." and then he watched the sky a little longer, and he said, "Sex is very important... in the beginning..." He shifted position, leaning forward to rest his elbow on the table, touched the flower centerpiece with his other hand. And into the silence that grew between us, I told him quietly of CG, who had been on my mind since the anniversary of his death, and described what had been there between us.

I put one hand on my solar plexus, and told him what it felt like there, the connection, the depth of it, the flow, and he looked so solemn, and his eyes widened and closed. And he said that if he felt that for someone one, and they felt it too, he could never walk away from it. I felt tears in my eyes, and I asked him, what if one felt sexually attracted, and not the other? And said, "Oh Kay...that would be hell."

We sat in silence for a while longer, and he asked. "Were you the one who was not attracted?", and when I nodded, he asked, "You didn't even let him try to make love to you, did you?" I told him no. I told him I'd deliberately ignored all of CG's overtures, pretending to be oblivious, and succeeding, until one night, I just couldn't ignore it. CG was reading Twain to me, and it was late, and I fell asleep with my head in his lap, and when I woke up, he was touching me, and his hand trembled, and when I opened my eyes he looked at me with such intensity in those clear grey-green eyes, and I knew. And knowing, I couldn't deceive myself anymore. I thought of MR and the arguments we'd been having over CG. I loved them both, but MR and I were fanastic together physically and there was no way I was willing to give that up for the tepidness I felt for CG sexually, despite the link we had. And so I pushed him out of my life, thinking it was for the best.

RS is an amazing listener, very focussed. He was quiet for a while, and he said "Its a funny thing about chemistry--sometimes its there and sometimes its not." And he said to me that I have considerably more experience than he does, so he knows that I know that sex is about chemistry and pheromones, but did I know that love-making is about emotional and psychological cues? I asked for clarification. He asked me if I'd had a lover want sex when I didn't. And I smiled and said of course. He asked if I pushed them away, or let that person make love to me, to which I answered that I usually let them make love to me, because it almost always felt good enough that arousal usually followed, like a slow burn. And then he said, "Knowing that, why didn't you let CG try?" My answer was that I didn't know it then.

He told me that if I was ever lucky enough to come across something like that again in my life, I would be a fool to walk away. I nodded. I had no other response to that, other than tears that never made it past my eyelashes.