Monday, June 1, 2009

Someone like you with someone like me...

I'm trying to wrap my brain around something at the moment, so I'm just going to spew until I wear myself out or come to a decent conclusion that will hold me over until tomorrow.

I define myself by sex and desire. Or, rather, sex and desire are the two things that I am secure in, solid in, know myself so well in. They're comfortable, they're things I've spent a long time studying and experimenting with, analyzing myself and others, attempting to get at why I am the way I am, and why I react the way I do.

In some circles, I'm known as the sexual wild child. It amuses me because, in these circles, it's rare to find anyone I've actually slept with. They hear stories, from me, from friends, of my escapades, and then my reputation grows.

And it never has grown in a negative way. I've yet to be labeled a slut, a whore, a skank, whatever random derogatory word that can be thrown out there.

I have places I can walk into, parties I can attend, where I know the moment I set foot in the door, lips will start flapping so they can fill the newbies in on who I am, the things I have done. Earlier this year, I went to a party and actually had two of my guy friends proposition me to take the virginity of a shy 19 year old who they had been harassing for a good while on his lack of action.

No, I did not take them up on it, though I did take the boy out on a few dates to get him to loosen up and teach him how to flirt. I tried, I failed. Can't win them all.

I'm known for my wildness, known for the sexuality, the honesty, the openness about what I want. People have come to know that if there's someone I want, who is free of entanglements and straight, I tend to get him.

I'm not beautiful. I'm not striking.

I'm pretty. I'm cute.

I work with what I have: I'm a Masculine Dandy with a Charismatic core. I play with my uniqueness because, as has been pointed out to me so much, I've got a rare mental set-up going. It's not the best of things, but it has enabled me to survive, to get through things that others would not have done so well with.

I'm incredibly mentally healthy given my history.

Some guys fall over me because I'm unique, because I sparkle, because it's so easy for me to take control of a room when the mood strikes. They want me for the challenge, want to test the rumors, want to be able to say that, yeah, I fucked her silly. I press buttons, I mock, I push men as hard as I can because I love the objectification, love the roughness, love the brutality the results from frustration.

I'm a submissive with rapidly growing masochistic tendencies. Playing rough satisifies parts of me that so few people ever really touch, ever understand.

These guys, they're one-night stands, one-week stands, maybe a month, and then we're done with each other. It's about the sex. We don't take each other seriously.

Then there's the other guys, the ones that see all of that challenge, see the prodding I engage in, and see that, within all of that, I'm quite wrecked and soul-searching. They become totally enamoured. I remember reading about this in the Art of Seduction and smiling to myself because it was totally my natural MO. They want to protect, want to cherish, want to guard.

The sad thing is, for me, is that these guys... they don't get it. They don't understand the sexuality, they don't understand the damage, they don't understand my obsession with strength and survival. They have no edge, they have no chaos, and they certainly don't want to play rough in bed, which completely eliminates them from any interest on my part and they fall by the wayside in the large queue of my platonic male friends that will constantly be mooning after me until, finally, a nice girl who needs a little love picks them up and adopts them.

I encourage this adoption as much as I possibly can. I don't like being adored... it creeps me out.

So, I was reading another blogger's blog on chivalry and I noticed my reaction to the general idea of chivalrous males. It wasn't a positive one. Chivalry has always seemed so false to me. Courteous behavior, behavior that has to be trained into a man?

I'd rather have someone who says what he wants, who works with me as a partner.

When I go out with someone, I expect that I will pay for myself unless otherwise informed, or if it's a first date that I've been asked out on. When I see a person regularly, I either pay for myself when we go out, or I pay for both of us if he's not as financially well-off as I am. When I shift into relationship-mode, whoever has the most disposable income is the one who treats, unless something special is going on. If that's me, I'm quite happy paying.

My last boyfriend, I suppose, would have been considered quite chivalrous.

I thought he was an overly pretentious, illogical dick throughout most of our relationship.

I only excused his behavior because he was raised as a "southern gentleman" in New Orleans.

But even before that, the idea of chivalry has never sat well with me.

I like reality, and chivalry really doesn't seem "real".

Maybe this means that the damage over the years has left me something like a wild horse, rolling my eyes and tossing my head whenever a man steps near me. I don't like being this unhealthy, this distrusting. But I also don't like the idea of naively floating along, expecting that all men that behave in a chivalrous fashion truly mean it.

I could recount the hurt of the years quite easily. Faces and names, the ones I remember, at the very least. I could recollect being young, being so in love, being so very, very innocent.

Being an idiot, really.

Heartbreak, injury, verbal, psychological, physical abuse. Men who did not understand that just because I wish to please, just because I'm so very submissive, does not mean I'm a doormat. And the responsibility/burden that comes with dating someone who is mentally set up in that way.

Each time I go out with someone, I have to fight within myself to not give in to my instincts. I have to stop and talk to myself, logic myself out of behaviors that seem natural, but I know would cause my partner to view me as lesser because they just don't quite understand it.


In all of my experience, I've been with one man who could completely sexually/psychological satisfy me in that regard. He was wonderful. He was also a bit of a douche, but I wasn't going out with him, just sleeping with him.

If I didn't have the memories I do of myself as a child acting in this way, I would assume that the years just piled on me and now I need that physical abuse and objectification from my sex partners to enjoy myself. But I remember always wanting it.

And I can, and often do, have completely normal, "healthy" sex. And I do enjoy it. GV8 is a total sensualist and we roll around for hours on end without a hint of d/s or pain.

Hrm, I'm running out of steam and I don't feel like I've managed to get anywhere near where I want to be when I went to bed.

I don't trust men. I adore them, but I don't trust them.

But... I trust women even less. And I don't adore them. So the first statement about men doesn't really have much impact now, does it? I don't trust easily, so it's not some horrific and shocking statement for me to not trust men.

Of course, I'm being all logical about this.

People annoy me. I'm very much about open communication and I find it incredibly annoying when I have to work with someone for months (sometimes years) in order for them to communicate their most basic needs and discomforts.

I keep an open flow. I respect my partners as individuals, learn their boundaries, learn their comfort zones, learn what they want from a lover on a social and sexual basis. I tailor the time spent with them to what they wish for. Sometimes I think I should keep a little black book so I don't have to worry about remembering all of it.

I like to please. I need to please. When a man I desire and respect gives me the allowance to please him, to serve him, I'm thrilled. Being with someone on that level is so calming, feels so very right and centering.

So, when a man can't communicate, has issues communicating, doesn't know what he wants, I get frustrated beyond belief. Barriers have been erected or discovered and this happy treat I was looking forward to has become a fortress.

Expect I refuse to lay siege to it.

Maybe this is why I am the way I am. This need to please, this need to serve, I search out suitable partners. I've become better and better over the years in determining who will work and who will not, and then getting them.

And then I put all of this effort into learning them, into explaining to them how I am, what I need, what I do not need, and they are unable to do the same, unable to afford the basic respect of honesty and communication between two people.

So I take lovers that are standard fare, hot, but normal. Men whose company I enjoy, but ultimately don't 100% do it for me. They take the edge off.

I'm beginning to wonder if I'll ever find someone worth pleasing.

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