Faithful readers will remember the 5 myths.
Never
Forever
Right
Wrong
&
Perfect
I forgot them. Which is some bullshit, because I wrote them in the first place to try and deal with my anxiety, attachment issues and perfectionism.
Ah the lingering effects of a gifted childhood peppered with abandonment.
But that isn’t what this is about.
When do I ever start an article with what I intend to talk about?
Almost never. Myth #1, never. Specifically “that will never happen.” Or in this case, never again.
When Wolf left I just figured I would never go back to subspace. I assumed it was a one off combination of dynamic, chemistry and trust that was hitherto undreamt of (thanks Dr. Strange)
And it was. 45 years on the planet, 30 of those sexually active and I had never felt anything like that before. It was logical to assume it would never happen again.
Right?
Fortunately, no.
Somedays I love being wrong.
There are days when I realize how backwards I have lived my life.
I grew up between the eras of go to school, go to college, specifically to meet a man and have his babies and “fuck you I won’t do what you tell me.”
I left home at 15 and was busy paying rent while my peers were dating, going to prom, backpacking through Europe and other such rites of passage. I missed them. Then 5 years later I was a mom, still paying rent and just trying to keep the person I made, alive. Didn’t leave a lot of room for self exploration or growth or adventure really. My life, before, was a series of accepting whatever reality I found myself in and being terribly afraid of the unknown. And until the person I made was self-sufficient and then some, I never really got to explore anything, much less myself.
Always surviving, never thriving.
It’s kinda cool now though. I am 47 years old and still get to experience new things and miracles on occasion. Then the word ‘never’ becomes acceptable. As in “I have never done THAT before.” For all my years on the planet, the bulk of them were spent sequestered and unsated.
I became sexually active at 15, had my first and last orgasm in a sleeping bag on the back lawn of a shitty motel. I didn’t have another one until I turned 20.
I had sex, some of it was even pretty good, but I just couldn’t get there, ya know? And in the way of teenage girls and even grown women, I lied about it to spare the feelings of the dude I was with, thereby guaranteeing the lack of orgasms for the next batch of women said dude slept with.
Please stop doing that.
We have done ourselves, and each other a grave disservice.
For some reason, probably because touch is my love language, the lack of reaching climax didn’t bother me and I still enjoyed sex most of the time. I would almost prefer non climactic sex with someone good to the orgasms I give myself when I am alone with my toys.
Then I started dating a woman who was older and wiser than me and one dude away from being a gold star lesbian. And I learned how to orgasm. After we split up I was with 2 very accommodating men who listened to what I wanted and needed and also what I wanted to try.
God I miss my 20’s for a myriad of reasons, but this was definitely one of them. Not the dudes specifically, but just having the boldness to not settle and to say ‘hey, I want to try _____.” and being met with enthusiasm or at least accommodations. But, I was a serial monogamist and sometimes it would be years where I felt like I couldn’t ask for what I wanted.
Knowing what I know now I would never entertain a dude that I was afraid of being myself around. But as a single mom stripper in the 90’s, I didn’t feel like I had a lot of options.
I used to be scared of being single. Not because I was afraid of being alone, I liked that part, I actually loved that part. But I was terrified of who I was when I didn’t have a boyfriend keeping me in check. I drank, I fucked, I went out and enjoyed life untethered.
Sitting here 20 some odd years later I know what the problem was. I was terribly concerned about what others would think of me. I wish I knew then what I know now…that it’s none of my business. People talk and will invent things if they want to bad mouth you bad enough. The secret of life is enjoying it without the confines of others’ opinions. This is my journey. The happiest people I know give the least fucks.
But I grew up in a small town and had battled a bad reputation my entire waking existence. I got called a ‘slut’ a year before I lost my virginity ferfucksakes. And in a town of 6000 people, it was a scarlet letter and a heavy cross for a sensitive 14 year old girl to bear. But this was also in the world before internet and pornhub and I still had that small town slut moniker that sat like a choke chain around my neck, and there were things I hadn’t even dreamt of. See above where I didn’t even orgasm for 5 years. The bar was on the floor.
I moved to Toronto and unfortunately my mind did not expand in accordance with my surroundings. I always had that fear and it dictated my behavior to the point that I was a serial monogamist for 20 years. One long term relationship into the next. And those nice 20 something boyfriends who thought my weird was cute and listened to me became bitter, jaded older men with enough baggage to sink the Titanic.
And then somehow we got here.
And I am still struggling.
But, for a couple of years, and a handful of times I got to visit subspace and I thought I could live there forever.
Which brings us to myth #2. Forever.
I am not going to go too deep into this one. Nothing lasts forever. I was in love with the same boy from high school for 26 years, that felt close enough to forever for me. I became so many different versions of myself in those 26 years and I always brought him with me, until I didn’t. I have never felt more liberated than I did at that moment I let go.
As for the rest of ‘forever’ I know what pillow talk is, I try to not get caught up in the moment and the lies, but sometimes boys and men say the magic words and I can’t help it. I try to see into the future. Less so recently, but not when it mattered.
I have gotten myself out of situations that seemed like they would never end. And as I move forward into this new chapter of adulting with a real job, I know I can quit if I want to.
Farm life was prison and I lied to myself for years. “If I can just save money I can leave”, “if I just do this or that I can finally be free.” All I had to do was just walk out the door, everything else sorted itself out afterwards. And here I be, happily living and shit.
I think it is a very natural and human trait to suffer. We must fight this.
I also think it is very basic human behavior to stick with the familiar even if it is awful. We must also fight this.
Change is scary. I am no exception to feeling like this. I lived in fear my whole life. But that part of my life is over.
I also think because of this predilection towards misery that when we do find something good in this miserable life, we want more of it and start dreaming of forevers, this can also lead to misery.
It is a delicate balance to plan ahead but stay in the moment. I am still learning.
When I moved to the farm all those years ago, ex hubby said “you never need to move again” and I swear to god my internal dialog said “well, that’s the worst lie he’s ever told”. And he told some seriously shitty lies over the years. Even as I was standing in the driveway with a u-haul chock full of all of my worldly possessions I knew it wasn’t forever.
I do wish I hadn’t let it drag on for 4 more years, but we can’t get that time back. I made it through, it’s over. Nothing else matters.
And maybe that is how I got where I am now. I survived things I thought would be the end of me. I went so long living unsatisfied that I finally made myself a priority. And I just don’t care anymore.
I used to worry about what I looked like during sex, which could also explain the lack of orgasms early on. Too busy thinking about angles and worried about belly rolls to be in the moment. I am still learning to let go, but I am getting really good at it.
Chemistry is a big part of it. I am way more fussy about the energy I let near me. Sex is an energetic exchange after all. Trust plays a huge factor and the more honest I am about who I am upfront the easier it is to find viable partners. And I think, this time, maybe the universe just gave me what I wanted and needed. A nerdy soft Dom with a wicked sense of humor and big dick energy.
Apparently sub space has a crazy underground garage of extra cosmos and floating, and Darkling took me there. Orgasm so intense I felt like I was gone for hours, in my haze he and I had a whole conversation (that wasn’t real) and wherever I was it was sunny and warm, we were laughing and happy. It was a profound experience. Like finally walking into Disneyland after chilling in the parking lot.
That has never happened before, it might never happen again and I highly doubt Darkling is forever. But it happened once and that is something.
I think it is mildly hilarious that I am the age I am and there are still things I haven’t done and felt before. I also think it is spectacular.
2000 years and I can still be surprised, in this I see God.
Godric, True Blood
