Homecoming

Home was dark and lonely with my lover out of the country, and so I delayed going home for as long as I could. My friends were great, very pleased in fact to have me to themselves for an evening, but around midnight I thanked them for a wonderful time and left.

The drive home was a bit stressful. Fog had rolled in, covering Silicon Valley in a quilted blanket. As I drove down the winding road into the valley from the mountains around Los Gatos, deer materialized in the fog, grazing on lawns and watching me pass with curious dark eyes. I got turned around once in the dark and the fog and when I finally found the ramp for I-280 I heaved a sigh of relief. Shoulders I didn't know were tense suddenly relaxed.

An hour later, I reached San Francisco. I pulled into the garage and as soon as I did, I had thoughts of my cold bed. Tempurpedic it may be, with silky-smooth 1000 threadcount sheets, but the night was cool and there was no one to warm myself against. I felt a bit of melancholy, but chased it off with the mantra "Tomorrow. Tomorrow he'll be home."

I love the darkness. I've always found it friendly and embracing, and I have excellent night vision, so I didn't bother with lights. I walked straight up to my room and started stripping down. I was bent over, untangling my panties from around my feet, when hands seized my hips. I knew it was a man by the erection he ground against my ass.

Fear froze my throat. I couldn't breathe, couldn't talk. I wanted to pull away, but self-defense training kicked in. I leaned backwards, throwing my weight against him. He fell into the door, taking me with him. I dove my hands between my thighs, aiming for his balls, determined to emasculate my uninvited guest. Or at least stun him long enough to get away.

His "Ow! Kay that hurt!" saved his ambition to one day be a father. I knew that voice.

"You should know better than to sneak up on me you stupid idiot!" I hissed at him as I helped him move to my bed. The way he was rubbing his back it looked like he'd taken the doorknob in his kidney.

"I wasn't sneaking up on you. I told you I'd be here around One," he grumbled.

"I thought you meant 1pm not 1am!"

I helped him lay down on my bed, then crawled in next to him.

"I'm sorry baby," I said, and kissed him.

"I'm sure you are," he said with a grin in his voice. "Who knows when I'll be able to have sex?"

I ran my hand down his chest and put my head on his heart.

"I don't mind if you just lay there," I said suggestively, letting my hand slide farther down until I was cradling the warmth of him.

"Well I do!" He said, and pushed my hand away. "My back hurts!"

"How about I kiss it and make it better?"

"How about we go to sleep and try this again later?" he responded grumpily.

I threw my leg over his and kissed his chest.

"I'm glad you're home," I said, and gave him a big squeeze.

"I can tell. Some homecoming!"

More on Love Tribe and Yums

I've gotten some queries on Love Tribe and the Yum I went to. What are they? I was asked. There is a Love Tribe link under the "Spiritual and Sensual" section of my page. The following is an excerpt from an email sent to a friend in August who asked the same thing:

First thing, at formal gatherings, the intention of the Love Tribe and the specific guidelines of the gathering one is attending are mentioned. There are intimacy exercises at the begining of most of the gatherings, except those that are specifically for 'experienced' Tribers, which assumes the attendees are already boundary-aware. The exercises focus on getting in touch with your own boundaries, leaving the street-energy behind, practicing saying yes or no to verbal and non-verbal requests to hug/touch, etc. Its a great way to get that higher, more spiritual energy flowing. Everyone is there for the same reasons -- to enjoy intimacy in a safe environment -- and everyone is open and vulnerable and genuine.

The first gathering I went to was a Yum (They occur the last friday of every month). It was an informal gathering at the massage studio of one of the members. There was a massage table, a couple of foutons, a dance space, food and drink, and over the course of the night, I figure that about 50 people came and went. The rules of a Yum are that it is a safe space where talking, dancing, cuddling and touching occur but there are no sexual overtones whatsoever... It is an opportunity to connect with people and enjoy intimacy in a relaxed, no-pressure space where boundaries are respected. I enjoyed the ecstatic and improvisational contact dancing--it is quite beautiful to experience and watch.

There was a pillow fight between people seated on those balls that are used for stretching the back... people snuggling 3 and 4 deep on foutons... Lots of earnest conversation, laughter, smiles, languid caressing, and hugs--real hugs--the kind where people hold each other and relax and stay there a bit, sharing of themselves. It was a very genuine gathering, one in which I was able to let down my guard, as I so often do not in public spaces, because I've such an awareness of how much danger women are in, especially in situations where alcohol is used (LoveTribe events are safe/sane/sober). Also, there are no gender or orientation social barriers. Hetero men rubbing each other's feet. Gay women snuggling with hetero men. Gay men doing improv contact dance with hetero women. People being people, enjoying other people, without all the socialized and sexualized barriers. It really is Yummy :)

The Snuggle Salon on the Sunday I got back into town was wonderful. It was in an attic with sky lights, nice mood music, and about 25 people came and went. Most people wore pajama-type clothes. Several of the people there had been in the 34-mile 7 Bridges Bicycle event, so we rubbed them down. No kissing or sexal touch... it is like an informal version of the Yum. You have to have been to a formal gathering in order to attend. I felt so much lighter after attending. It was a great antidote to the anguish in MA.

The Rapture Dance was a lot like the Yum, only there were probably 150 people there and it had more of a party atmosphere. They opened the doors at 8pm, closed them at 9:30. It was held at a dance studio with 4 or 5 thousand square feet of space. It was divided up into areas. A social space with food and drink, a huge dance floor, a snuggle zone (500 sq ft of foutons, easy), a safe space (to be alone), and a play space. The snuggle space is for snuggling, tops and bottoms on, no overtly sexual touching. The play space is an intimate place for people to play sensually. Gloves, condoms and lubricants provided, if things go that far. And monitors there to assist, as well as to ensure people practice safe sex, including fluid-bonded partners.

There are many other types of gatherings, and an overlap between Love Tribe and other local organizations fostering community and/or alternative-lifestyle networking, like the Explorer's Club (Tantra) , Portland Ecstatic Dance, The City Repair Project, Darklady's pan-sexual and sex-positive events, PDX Bad Girls (BDSM for women), Cupcake PDX (fat-friendly), MeetIn Portland, Network for a New Culture, etc.

Portland is what I call 'cosmopolitan granola'. It is a metropolitan area, with all those amenities and sophistication, but there is a high concentration of educated, geeky, kinky, and green people. Or perhaps there is not a higher concentration, but rather that more people are 'out' about it. The Pacific Northwest is very friendly toward people who are in transition, transformation, or interested in living lifestyles that are different from popular/dominant culture. I enjoy it immensely because there is so much acceptance and self-expression and room for people to be whoever they want to be.

I hope, with time, organizations like the ones I've mentioned above will be more common. Unfortunately, it requires people with vision and motivation to create and sustain them, and it is a lot of effort. If you are interested in starting organizations similar to the ones I've mentioned, I strongly recommend contacting the people on those sites. All of them are good people who are eager to help others build community.

Yum

I made it through the entire week at work. I was exhausted by Wednesday but I pushed through it. I had too much work to do. So much in fact, that I am going into the office this morning. The bronchitis is getting better but I am still using an inhaler. I used to think that, as a result of meditation, I was very aware of my breath. But I can say that there is nothing quite like feeling like I'm not getting enough air to make me acutely aware of breathing, and just how integral it is to my well-being. Without enough oxygen I tire easily. I've lower energy. I sleep a lot more. I think I've the barest inkling of what my mother went through with emphysema. I am so glad that I do not smoke.

In resuming my social life, I attended my first LoveTribe gathering since October, a Yum. When I got home from work I took a shower and put on some jammies and headed over to the studio. The opening exercises were just finishing and I had the opportunity to squeeze into the circle and introduce myself before formalities were dismissed. There were a lot of new faces and some missing ones. The regular Tribers greeted me and and asked where I had been. I briefly outlined my profession and why I drop off the social radar for 2 or 3 months this time of year.

There is nothing like walking into a room with 20 to 50 people in it, all wearing comfy, snuggly clothing, all interested it genuine interaction and non-sexual intimacy. I gave a few massages, got a few. Joined a puppy pile with 5 other people and got some good snuggling and conversation in. Most of us tend to wear fabrics that are sensually pleasing to touch: flannel, silk, velour, etc--fabrics that make people go 'mmmm' when they touch it and reach out again. One of the women there always wears socks made out of an incredibly silky-soft material... something like a synthetic version of cashmere, I guess. Only this time she didn't wear them. I rubbed her feet anyway, though ;)

It was good to see so many men there. Men get the short end of the intimacy stick in our culture. They can't hug and kiss on each other like women can, or people think they are gay. They can't touch women even casually without people thinking they are making a sexual overture. In many cases, they are worried about being affectionate with children, lest someone think they are pedophiles. In fact, most men feel that the only way they can experience intimacy is with a partner. And with a partner it usually leads to sex. Which is all fine and good, but sometimes... sometimes even men just want to experience closeness and playfulness without the sexual element/expectation hanging over their heads. So it is good to see men at LoveTribe gatherings, availing themselves of the opportunity to enjoy intimacy and sensual touch in an environment in which everyone is there to experience the same thing, and in which everyone understands the rules and follows them.

I left about midnight, feeling wonderful. Satisfied. Content. YUM.

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.

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?)

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]

feeling like a sunflower with a head so heavy it faces the ground

Today I feel like a sunflower with a head so heavy it faces the ground.

I am bothered by my awareness that I have become a walking contradiction in the two years since I entered therapy. So much of my psyche is in disarray. I feel like I've been exhuming bodies and doing post-mortem examinations. I've got an RIP pile for re-burial and pile for cremation and another for revisitation at a later date when I can handle it. And then there are the graves I'm walking past, not even ready to start digging those things up. Is it really necessary? Espedcially now, when my plate is so full?

A conversation with A. at a recent snuggle made me think. He is a life coach and we talked a bit about my feelings that I've gotten all I can out of therapy, that I'm tired of searching the past, that I want to think more about moving forward, and addressing where I am 'blocked' as I do so. He said that is what life coaches do. They help you figure out what it is that you really want, and help you to get out of your own way.

On the surface, I seem so calm, even after my fifth half-hour-long nose bleed in 8 days. J and I have talked about this, about my concern about this serene facade. Only he says it is not a facade. He said my true self is centered and knowing, that it is what is pulling me toward resolving the past so I can truly live in the now. He tells me that the chaos and the flaring emotions are the surface, they are the facade, and that the serenity that I usually feel and that others often sense is my core-self. He gave me a little pep talk about not letting short-term setbacks distract me from my long-rage goals. And he reminded me to be compassionate with myself. He asked me to go to meditation at the Buddhist Priory tonite. I almost said yes, but I'm so tired tonite. So drained. Somewhat sad. And a little scared.

understanding and acceptance

I find myself trembling on the edge of a realization. It is similar to that realization I had several months ago about questions and answers. That some questions cannot be answered, and that the answers aren't important--its the noticing, the asking, that matters--and the ability to let the questions go. Release.

And I am there now with 'understanding' and 'acceptance'. I am realizing I do not have to understand. I realized this as a result of my anguish over not understanding the suffering of those I love. There are things I may never be able to understand, no matter how smart I am, no matter how hard I try, no matter how many questions I ask.

If there is only one thing I have to understand, it is that I must accept that there are things I may never understand.

It sounds so simple, but its a tough lesson for me. I expect I will continue to struggle with it, but I've gone back to my meditation on practicing acceptance, and hopefully this time it will stick. In the meantime, there is nothing I would like more right now than to snuggle up to someone I love and trust and bask in the joy of just being with them. Unfortunately, all desired candidates are either otherwise occupied... or too far away.

Fantabulous Weekend

I think this has been one of the best weekends of my life.

1-My sister is doing better. One might even go so far as to say that she is recovering, keeping in mind that a few good weeks does not a recovery make, not with an illness that cost her 10 months of her life and half her body mass.

2-CD has not only finished his manuscript, but will be handing it over to his editor in a week. Even better tho, are the poems and prose he is now free to write, brightening my days, like this:

Opposable Thumbs

Because of our opposable thumbs, we human beings have unique capabilities. Our muscled, contrary digits allow us to pull, twist, manipulate, and grip; to use tools, to control, even "civilize" our environment. There is, however, one essential human quality that does NOT respond well to this wondrous digital opposability...

Love.

Love is given; it is to be received with open hands, as if it was a gift of pure, clear, life-giving water, flowing into and over our cupped palms.

Love is not to be pulled, twisted, manipulated, leveraged, or squeezed. Love is not to be hijacked, hitchhiked, clamped, or hammered.

No.

Use your opposable thumbs on love, and its life-giving magic will disappear, as surely as water flows through a grasping hand.

3-I went to two birthday parties on Saturday. Yes, two!

J's was at a meditation center. I wish I could have spent more time there, because there were some amazing people there, and J needed some serious bodywork. Still, I got his low back relaxed enough that he stopped wincing every time he moved, and he gave me a peek at the library. Mmm... books. A good thing he doesn't know what a turn-on books in general and libraries in particular are for me :)

I had to leave J's party because B's was starting, and well, no offence to J, but who would want to miss a party involving a chocolate fountain, a basement lair draped in billowing fabrics, a wine cellar, a chocolate fountain, one man, 10 women, (did I mention a chocolate fountain) and a camera?

4-Sunday Sacred Dance Circle. Wow. The energy was amazing. I had gooseflesh the entire time I was there. Between that and the endorphine high from multiple orgasms, I was guaranteed a great day.

6-Snuggle Salon. I invited a different J to come along and he accepted. It was the smallest snuggle I've been to, maybe 10 people. Still, both the birthday boys were there, and there were only two other women besides myself, so I had a great time snuggling and being massaged. And I loved the five-person snuggle at the end of the night, sandwiched between the J I'd invited and J the birthday boy. YUM!

7-I got to talk to my other sister about all sorts of deep and personal things, and gave her the good news that I will be taking vacation in November afterall, so we're both really stoked. Its been a few years since my sisters and I were together last.

8-Oh! and I have pretty toes, courtesy of my lovely girl C, who loves me so much that she gave me a pedicure this weekend. French, with pretty nail art.

Its nearly 1am and I'm still high on life. I love my life. Life is good.

"A good day," a friend said to me. "Why are they so rare?"
"I don't know," I answered, "Somedays we dont know a good day when we are in one."

Sunday was a good day. So was Saturday. Here's to Monday.

Flowers! (Or, should I be sick more often?)

I've been sleeping a lot. Drowsing, too. I'm enjoying it, because normally after 5 or 6 hours in bed, my body yells "get up!" and I cannot stand laying in bed any longer--even if my brain is still tired. But this being sick thing, well, I can't seem to get enough of being horizontal. It is so nice to drowse and slide my legs against the sheets and snuggle up to my pillow and just be. And laying in bed seems to be the only way my muscles don't ache a lot, which guarantees I'm in it.

My roomie made me a big pot of stew, and I woke up from a nap hungry for some. I'd nuked a bowl filled with three ladles of the stuff and was dipping a piece for french bread into it when the doorbell rang. I almost ignored it, as I was a mess--still wearing my white nightie with the rubber duckies on it, my hair uncombed--but I answered it anyway. And lo! It was the florist, with a huge vase of flowers. I've put them on my desk, where I can see them from bed, as the enclosed card said "...to bring beauty into your room and making you stay in bed." How'd I get so lucky to be so loved? How silly that getting flowers makes me want to hug myself and bounce with joy. They are so beautiful...

Reminders

This has been the week of reminders. Reminders to live each moment fully. Reminders of why I decided to be more social--and why I had stopped. Reminders as to why I started therapy. Reminders that I do not own my fears--and they do not own me. Reminders that love is the most powerful force at my disposal. Reminders to be responsible. Reminders of who my friends really are. Reminders to let go of my need to control and manipulate reality instead of accepting and understanding that true freedom is simply experiencing life as it occurs, allowing myself to be truly spontaneous rather than habitual. I have been experiencing mini-moments of clarity, like the popping of ears signifying elevation changes. Something is up, I feel it, but I do not know what it is that is percolating in my intuitive subconcious--I only know that I am anxious about it, and that it, combined with an ear infection and inexplicable nosebleeds, has left me feeling weary. I am craving sanctuary with an intimate friend. C says come to him, and he will cuddle me--but I know where that will lead. And there will be no long period of peace, only moments suspended between interruptions. I would love a good long period snuggled up to B, but his social schedule is nearly as hectic as mine. I need nurturing, he said. And he was right. Nurturing, not sex... which is why I am at home in my own bed instead of C's. Weariness. Anxiousness. I tell myself there is nothing to be afraid of, and what does fear get me even if there is good reason? Readiness? Stress? I meditate, seeking the still mind, knowing insight and clarity will come if I can but calm the monkey brain long enough.
[audio entry]

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.

Two questions

In an email earlier this week, C. asked me two questions:

Why do you "dodge people and keep others at arm's length?"I answered: One part of the answer question is that I am not very good at saying 'no'. If I avoid people, then they are less likely to ask or demand something of me that I do not want to give but will give anyway because I can more easily dismiss my own discomfort than the possibility that I might cause someone pain--the curse of being too empathetic/sympathetic.

What are you really afraid of...now? I answered: Right now, I am afraid of loving people.
Why I am afraid of loving people? Because, in my experience, loving people hurts.
What is wrong with hurting? I ask myself. Nothing. Pain is not the reciprocal of Love, I remind myself. It is the result of my awareness of my separateness, of my struggle to communicate my true self with those I love.
Intellectually I understand that there is nothing wrong with hurting, that emotional pain is a part of living and growing, and that it is a natural and understandable consequence of interaction. But emotionally, it is unacceptable to me. People I loved in my youth damaged me and something in me once refused to risk it any more. But I also know that I must continue to work at overcoming that aversion to risk. I know that I am unconsciously reproducing behaviour that was once adaptive but is now merely repetitive, and with effort and awareness, I can free myself from the unconscious habits that inhibit me and have me oscillating between the twin drives of desire and fear.

I've given that last question and my response more thought. I've thought about C. and N. and the differences in my feelings for, and reactions to, them.

My main problems with C. were that I found him physically intimidating, and that I found his expression of sexual interest threatening. I've spent enough time around him now that I am used to his height, and I've gotten to know him well enough that I know it is not his nature to use his size to his advantage. Once I talked to him about sexual intercourse, he stopped pushing. We kiss, we cuddle, we touch intimately, but when I indicate it is time to stop, he stops. He is sweet and fun, he's not around too much because he travels a lot, he calls often, he excites me. I like his sister and her boys, they seem to like me. So what am I afraid of?

And with N., he is newly out of a 30 year marriage. He is intense and open and completely non-pushy. But he's 15 years older and he has gotten emotionally-involved too quickly, too intensely, especially for someone he's met online. And he's a Dom *shiver*. Big red flag. I told him about the Dom who pushed me too far and he said that it was a shame about that, but that his kink is pleasure as a form of power exchange, not pain. And he said that, regardless, we could never go the BDSM route and he would be perfectly ok with that, because he doesn't want submission from me. He said he has met many submissive women, but only one woman like me. I think he is lying to himself, if he thinks he would be happy outside the Lifestyle. I care about him, but I told him I'm not ready for a relationship, especially not one like he wants. He said he would wait. So what am I afraid of?

Its not that I'm afraid of loving people. I love people. I have lots of love in me and I apply it liberally, especially with my friends.

I love my family, but I do not like who I am when I am with them; I do not like the old patterns we revert to, so I love them from afar--but even that is changing as I am learning to observe my feelings and reactions and follow them to their source and attempt to address the underlying issues. Of course, I can only affect my own internal mappings. I cannot change those of others, and, well, when I'm around they unconsciously expect me to fulfill the role of 'enabler' that I once held.

And I've loved my partners, but I've nearly always held a part of myself aloof. While something in me wants to give myself emotionally to my partner with the same level of abandonment that I give myself over to physical pleasure, I am afraid to do so. I am afraid of opening that door and stepping through it. I've a very good idea of what lies beyond, and sure as it is cold and raining outside, something in me is pushing inexorably toward that end.

So... what I am afraid of is... me. The possibilities that once lay dormant within me. That are stirring within me. And the knowledge that opening up that way requires trusting another person, letting someone inside me in more ways than just one or two... and I really don't like needing others, or needing help--and trust is such a many-layered thing.