I normally try to keep my comments "on track"; it is, after all, a kink blog. In spite of that today's entry isn't incredibly kink-related. It's really more along the lines of a "life lesson" than a "kink lesson" (or opinion, or advice, or whatever you consider my entries).
Recently I've talked with a couple of new girls, and I've talked about them a little before. I talked about Maria before, but - due mostly to circumstances beyond both our control - we have almost entirely fallen out of touch. It's manifested in an unpleasant way - not a hostile one, at least as far as I've seen, but an unpleasant one. Still, I will just leave her alone until such time she wants - if she wants - to talk to me again. I'm not happy about it, but... If it's what she believes she needs right now, I choose not to argue the point.
There's another girl - Sarah, let's call her - I haven't talked about yet. I met her on OkCupid and we started talking; we hit it off very well. We have a lot in common and a number of mutual interests, including a number of geeky games and books and such... And including bondage, dom/sub play, sadomasochism, and a common understanding of poly relationships. After speaking for a couple of weeks we agreed to meet, and it would have been last Tuesday; unfortunately, it was cancelled. However, she had something else come up out of her past - something that made her decide she needed to pull away from me - from us, or whatever potential we might have had as a couple. I've gotten comments from a couple of friends that she's lying just to step away from me... But it doesn't matter either way. If she's interested in picking things up again at some point, she'll contact me; and if she isn't, it doesn't matter much whether she was telling the truth or not.
Something else happened this weekend which follows the same pattern - of a sort. I was woken up at 2:30 this morning (Sunday morning) by a phone call from my father; he's in Hawaii, and had been waiting until early morning UK time to call my uncle. Because he was very upset he managed to confuse my number and my uncle's in his phone (our last names are the same, and first names are the same length with the first two letters, so it's not completely outside the realm). Since we were on the phone anyway, he told me that my Great Aunt had died. She was old - almost 90 - and was recovering from having broken her hip. She'd even been released from the hospital, when she died - very suddenly from a pulmonary embolism. I've always had a small family, and I was close to her. She was the last person alive in the generation before my parents on either side of my family; she was one of the tiny number left in my line on that side, which has shrunk greatly in the last three generations. We were in the process of arranging plans for her to visit this coming summer, which would have been her first time in this country in more than twenty years... And the first time she'd ever met my son. And me? I've broken down twice - once this morning when I realized I'll probably never find out whether or not she ever got my Christmas letter; and once this afternoon when I stopped by work to pick something up and found the voicemail from my father, who hadn't yet realized he had the wrong number and was trying to leave a message for my uncle.
My point? My point is... Things aren't always in your control. Life happens, whether you want it or not. It can be a rude shock - it can be terrifying - it can be depressing - it can be even occasionally be good. But it's never what you expect.
2014/12/30
2014/12/26
I was listening to the Savage Lovecast - as I am wont to do when a new episode comes out. This week's, #426, was a live Christmas episode recorded at the Neptune Theatre in Seattle with special guests Rachel Lark and Derek Sheen, and it was a lot less serious and more fun than most. Still, they had their typical phone calls, all across the board. One was from a girl talking about her boyfriend and her boyfriend's other girlfriend and what to do at the holidays, which I very well may come back to in the near future for a post... But the one that really struck a nerve and that I'm going to talk about today, however far off my normal beaten path it is, was a mother who called in to ask something about her daughter. The problem was that here daughter is uncertain about her gender identity, and the mother called up the Lovecast to ask what the best way to ask "What gender she was that day". Rachel Lark's advice amounted to "stay gender-neutral and avoid the subject as hard you can".
...Both of these bothered me a great deal, and one of the easiest ways to explain why is to tell you Derek Sheen's answer: that the mother was asking the wrong question... And instead she should be teaching her daughter that gender isn't a binary. The problem here isn't "figuring out what gender the daughter is that day"; the problem is the mindset that there's only two choices... And someone who hasn't chosen one of them isn't okay.
This is a problem all over the spectrum, and it's one I tend to worry about more in my day-to-day life as it applies to sexuality. This directly relates to things like the Kinsey scale - after all, I'm something like a 0 or a 1 but know people all over the range. It's hard enough to convince some people that there's more than one option in sexuality; convincing them there's two - heterosexuality and homosexuality - is impossible with the bigoted. Convincing people there's a whole spectrum including homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals, pansexuals, and everything else? It's... An uphill fight, shall we say.
And gender... Gender is harder. Gender is fixed by biology, right? Of course it is! You're assigned a gender at birth and it never changes... Except for all those little differences. Like people born with genetic gender disorders - XXX, XXY, XYY, XXYY, XXXX, XXXXX... But far more subtle and far more insidious are those people whose gender doesn't match their body.
It's not as simple as some people who are born male but identify female or some people who are born female but identify male; it's about people, no matter their biological gender, who don't fit society's rules. It's about people who don't know what they are... They just know they aren't a male or a female.
I know where I fit on these spectrums... Most people really do. But not everyone does. And this poor girl, even with her mother's good intentions, is being set up to be confused and depressed and conflicted and lost.
...Both of these bothered me a great deal, and one of the easiest ways to explain why is to tell you Derek Sheen's answer: that the mother was asking the wrong question... And instead she should be teaching her daughter that gender isn't a binary. The problem here isn't "figuring out what gender the daughter is that day"; the problem is the mindset that there's only two choices... And someone who hasn't chosen one of them isn't okay.
This is a problem all over the spectrum, and it's one I tend to worry about more in my day-to-day life as it applies to sexuality. This directly relates to things like the Kinsey scale - after all, I'm something like a 0 or a 1 but know people all over the range. It's hard enough to convince some people that there's more than one option in sexuality; convincing them there's two - heterosexuality and homosexuality - is impossible with the bigoted. Convincing people there's a whole spectrum including homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals, pansexuals, and everything else? It's... An uphill fight, shall we say.
And gender... Gender is harder. Gender is fixed by biology, right? Of course it is! You're assigned a gender at birth and it never changes... Except for all those little differences. Like people born with genetic gender disorders - XXX, XXY, XYY, XXYY, XXXX, XXXXX... But far more subtle and far more insidious are those people whose gender doesn't match their body.
It's not as simple as some people who are born male but identify female or some people who are born female but identify male; it's about people, no matter their biological gender, who don't fit society's rules. It's about people who don't know what they are... They just know they aren't a male or a female.
I know where I fit on these spectrums... Most people really do. But not everyone does. And this poor girl, even with her mother's good intentions, is being set up to be confused and depressed and conflicted and lost.
2014/12/25
Somewhere between "oops" and "ooh noooooo"
So, it's Christmas. Good ol' December 25th. I'm not a fan, but a lot of people are, so let's not dwell on that.
What today's date also means is that I'm basically a hair's breadth away from being 31 years old. I've changed a lot over the past few years (a lot of it for the better, I'd say), and one thing I thought I had gotten over was my ability to completely and utterly embarrass myself to the point of not being able to replay the situation over and over in my head until I collapse. It's useless in terms of damage control and it isn't particularly kind to my mental state, but I had managed to lose that part of myself a while ago.
At least, I thought I had.
Last week, late in the evening, Mike's exwife stopped by to grab something their son had left at our place. Our place, the tiny mess. Our place, where you enter in the living room and can see my command center of a computer in its entirety, the monitors readable at a step or two from the door.
On the main screen was Facebook, and in the corner was a conversation with my friend Rex. In that conversation was the phrase "whenever Mike starts talking to new people on OkCupid."
Fuck.
So the exwife came into the apartment, took a few steps toward the table/desk we spend most of our time at, and, I fear, read the conversation. The one that points toward a non-standard relationship. The type of relationship she has hinted at being unacceptable and worth hauling his ass into court over in the hopes of taking his parental rights away.
Nope, that panicky embarrassment is still there, front and center.
Fuck.
I tried to figure out if coming out to people about my sexuality and facing rejection was worse than accidentally coming out as poly/open to a potentially hostile woman whose existence in our lives is dictated by the existence of the stepson I adore beyond reason. Maybe it's the fact that I'm now half a lifetime away from the days I admitted I "like girls," but this actually feels more painful. The harassment back then was awful, but this? This potentially carries more weight.
Mike's response to the situation was, initially "fuck her" (not literally) and that, if it came up, we would deal with it. He didn't blame me or say I fucked up (that's all me), and his feeling was, if she says anything, he has no problem pointing out that she shouldn't have been reading my screen, regardless of it being out in plain view.
Meanwhile, I'm just hoping it doesn't come up. I spend enough time feeling alienated in terms of being able to talk to people about how our relationship works that I don't need someone to know who will ultimately have a problem with it -- more than the average person does to begin with, I guess.
What's fun is that I'm totally in favor of people just being out and open about their sexuality and their relationships. But because I'm still not comfortable with the perception of certain flavors of relationships, it keeps me from actually engaging the part of myself that is polyamorous and bisexual. I'll admit to being a total wimp and taking the easy way out and hiding in the appearance of heteronormativity, sticking to admitting ladycrushes to my husband and a few friends and playing loops of sexy-girl-time in my head when the situation warrants it.
Standard stuff, I guess, for most married people. It just makes me feel like a fraud.
Ultimately, the panic has lessened enough that I can function again, but I'm still afraid. Thankfully we will be out of this apartment soon and you can be damn sure I will be hiding my computer screen better in the next place.
What today's date also means is that I'm basically a hair's breadth away from being 31 years old. I've changed a lot over the past few years (a lot of it for the better, I'd say), and one thing I thought I had gotten over was my ability to completely and utterly embarrass myself to the point of not being able to replay the situation over and over in my head until I collapse. It's useless in terms of damage control and it isn't particularly kind to my mental state, but I had managed to lose that part of myself a while ago.
At least, I thought I had.
Last week, late in the evening, Mike's exwife stopped by to grab something their son had left at our place. Our place, the tiny mess. Our place, where you enter in the living room and can see my command center of a computer in its entirety, the monitors readable at a step or two from the door.
On the main screen was Facebook, and in the corner was a conversation with my friend Rex. In that conversation was the phrase "whenever Mike starts talking to new people on OkCupid."
Fuck.
So the exwife came into the apartment, took a few steps toward the table/desk we spend most of our time at, and, I fear, read the conversation. The one that points toward a non-standard relationship. The type of relationship she has hinted at being unacceptable and worth hauling his ass into court over in the hopes of taking his parental rights away.
Nope, that panicky embarrassment is still there, front and center.
Fuck.
I tried to figure out if coming out to people about my sexuality and facing rejection was worse than accidentally coming out as poly/open to a potentially hostile woman whose existence in our lives is dictated by the existence of the stepson I adore beyond reason. Maybe it's the fact that I'm now half a lifetime away from the days I admitted I "like girls," but this actually feels more painful. The harassment back then was awful, but this? This potentially carries more weight.
Mike's response to the situation was, initially "fuck her" (not literally) and that, if it came up, we would deal with it. He didn't blame me or say I fucked up (that's all me), and his feeling was, if she says anything, he has no problem pointing out that she shouldn't have been reading my screen, regardless of it being out in plain view.
Meanwhile, I'm just hoping it doesn't come up. I spend enough time feeling alienated in terms of being able to talk to people about how our relationship works that I don't need someone to know who will ultimately have a problem with it -- more than the average person does to begin with, I guess.
What's fun is that I'm totally in favor of people just being out and open about their sexuality and their relationships. But because I'm still not comfortable with the perception of certain flavors of relationships, it keeps me from actually engaging the part of myself that is polyamorous and bisexual. I'll admit to being a total wimp and taking the easy way out and hiding in the appearance of heteronormativity, sticking to admitting ladycrushes to my husband and a few friends and playing loops of sexy-girl-time in my head when the situation warrants it.
Standard stuff, I guess, for most married people. It just makes me feel like a fraud.
Ultimately, the panic has lessened enough that I can function again, but I'm still afraid. Thankfully we will be out of this apartment soon and you can be damn sure I will be hiding my computer screen better in the next place.
2014/12/23
Conversations with a Polygamist
So the lovely and talented Ash found this link I enjoyed:
http://www.buzzfeed.com/caitlincowie/ask-a-polyamorous-person#.etMyMaBpm
which actually is mostly a wrapper around this video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-o1gsI3e0u4
and is eminently worth watching. I do find myself wondering actively whether BuzzFeed has that many openly poly people on staff, or whether they imported and/or substituted a few for the purposes of this; but either way that video was great. Anyone who has any questions or interest in Poly should go watch it.
No, I'm serious. Go on; I'll wait here. Look, I'll even pause the blog.
...
...
*taps foot, checks watch*
Okay, good? Good.
What I thought when I saw this was "Okay, this is like the ultimate how to answer questions after you come out" video. They hit so many good points, including a number I've harped on before. "What's the difference between Poly and Cheating?" Couldn't be simpler - cheating is against the nature of the relationship, but poly defines the boundaries of the relationship and sets the limits on what is cheating. Why isn't one person enough? You're asking the wrong question, or at least making an assumption. Why isn't one friend enough for you? Oh, you get something different out of all your friends? Do tell. How do you deal with jealousy? The same way most (healthy) monogamous relationships do, just not including the assumption that jealousy is the worst possible thing that could happen to two people.
The comments are worth reading, also - if for no other reason than the sheer lack of bitchiness and stupidity. Really reassuring to not have the ass holes out in force. For once.
All that being said... My favourite line was "Orgies aren't that common. I've been to one; and I spent most of my time in the corner eating Oreos."
http://www.buzzfeed.com/caitlincowie/ask-a-polyamorous-person#.etMyMaBpm
which actually is mostly a wrapper around this video:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-o1gsI3e0u4
and is eminently worth watching. I do find myself wondering actively whether BuzzFeed has that many openly poly people on staff, or whether they imported and/or substituted a few for the purposes of this; but either way that video was great. Anyone who has any questions or interest in Poly should go watch it.
No, I'm serious. Go on; I'll wait here. Look, I'll even pause the blog.
...
...
*taps foot, checks watch*
Okay, good? Good.
What I thought when I saw this was "Okay, this is like the ultimate how to answer questions after you come out" video. They hit so many good points, including a number I've harped on before. "What's the difference between Poly and Cheating?" Couldn't be simpler - cheating is against the nature of the relationship, but poly defines the boundaries of the relationship and sets the limits on what is cheating. Why isn't one person enough? You're asking the wrong question, or at least making an assumption. Why isn't one friend enough for you? Oh, you get something different out of all your friends? Do tell. How do you deal with jealousy? The same way most (healthy) monogamous relationships do, just not including the assumption that jealousy is the worst possible thing that could happen to two people.
The comments are worth reading, also - if for no other reason than the sheer lack of bitchiness and stupidity. Really reassuring to not have the ass holes out in force. For once.
All that being said... My favourite line was "Orgies aren't that common. I've been to one; and I spent most of my time in the corner eating Oreos."
2014/12/22
Dear Women Who Talk to or Date my Husband,
When I explain to people how my marriage works, the main thing I'm told is how people are often too jealous to even consider such an arrangement in their own relationships. I'm here to tell you that I'm not going to be jealous of you.
Maybe it's strange. What most people would consider jealousy and would hold against the "other woman/man" would be something I would more likely hold against my husband. You can't control how he handles his time between us, so that's on him.
It's on me how I react to him getting to know someone else or getting involved with them, though. My first reaction is usually excitement for him, and then eventually there's the momentary anguish over the idea that he will find someone that makes him realize that every bad thing I feel about myself is true. That's not his fault, and that's not your fault, so I'll handle it myself and not get either of you involved in my mini self esteem meltdown.
What I want on your end, though, is this:
Be good to my husband.
Appreciate my place in his life, since I'm giving him the freedom to be involved with you.
Don't be afraid of me.
Be communicative, within reason.
Ultimately, I want to work together with you to make my husband as fulfilled as possible. We don't have to be best friends, but considering I'm more likely to be the one helping him get over you if things fall apart (and not the other way around), being cordial and on the same page with me is kind of important.
Maybe that's bitchy of me, but I figure I'm being incredibly permissive and have a right to expect a new person in our lives to be relatively sane and together. If not, I'll be the first one to point out to him how something isn't working or in the best interest of everyone involved.
I'll be fair, but I won't hesitate to keep my primary relationship as stable as possible. Otherwise, we are good if you are good.
Just saying.
2014/12/19
Not what it seems at first glance...
I've been on a roll with the FetLife links recently... So why let up now? I was totally prepared, based on the title, to be ravingly angry at this post:
https://fetlife.com/groups/14857/group_posts/6322050
Most of the time when this type of title comes up it's an arrogant chest-beating neanderthal who I'd be way happier punching through a wall than giving them the time of day. This person's post is... A pleasant surprise. Well reasoned, polite, and not full of the kind of entitled bullshit that drove me away from The Scene in the first place.
All too often on dating sites, you get the horror stories of some jackass messaging a woman and saying "Hey R U DTF?" or "Show me ur tits" or something similarly intelligent. The equivalent of that on kink/BDSM sites and Fetlife is "Kneel, slut, and worship your Master!" as an introductory message. It astounds me that people ever think that's a good idea. It shows an arrogance, a lack of respect, a total lack of understanding of basic humanity... And it's common. It's everywhere. These people are in your house!!!
Okay; in the vast majority of cases they aren't in your house, but my point stands. If you spend any decent amount of time in the lifestyle, you can't avoid them. They may get blacklisted, they may get shunned... But somewhere they get enough encouragement to keep going. Go figure.
Back to the actual post, though... With only minimal amounts of allowance for variations on a theme, these could all apply to me.
Her specific examples aren't quite to my taste, but her central point stands: the most important measure of whether you're a good sub is whether you and your Dom are both happy with your behaviour and your relationship. If you can get that far, where you two are content? Other peoples' opinions just don't matter, so screw the rest.
https://fetlife.com/groups/14857/group_posts/6322050
Most of the time when this type of title comes up it's an arrogant chest-beating neanderthal who I'd be way happier punching through a wall than giving them the time of day. This person's post is... A pleasant surprise. Well reasoned, polite, and not full of the kind of entitled bullshit that drove me away from The Scene in the first place.
All too often on dating sites, you get the horror stories of some jackass messaging a woman and saying "Hey R U DTF?" or "Show me ur tits" or something similarly intelligent. The equivalent of that on kink/BDSM sites and Fetlife is "Kneel, slut, and worship your Master!" as an introductory message. It astounds me that people ever think that's a good idea. It shows an arrogance, a lack of respect, a total lack of understanding of basic humanity... And it's common. It's everywhere. These people are in your house!!!
Okay; in the vast majority of cases they aren't in your house, but my point stands. If you spend any decent amount of time in the lifestyle, you can't avoid them. They may get blacklisted, they may get shunned... But somewhere they get enough encouragement to keep going. Go figure.
Back to the actual post, though... With only minimal amounts of allowance for variations on a theme, these could all apply to me.
- Devotion. I won't go so far as to say "Devoted only to me," but that's because I'm naturally poly and sortof assume any slave I have would be as well... And even then exactly what limits there are would have to be carefully talked out to make sure neither of us got a nasty shock.
- Willingness. A desire to please, and an openness to trust that things I introduce them to are worth trying.
- Patience. I'm... A trying person to live with, and I'm aware of that. Life with me is frequently not easy. This is a big one, on way more levels than my kink life.
- Generosity. A willingness to give.
- Honesty. This is my big hot-button issue; without honesty, full honesty in both directions, our relationship stands no chance. I wish more people saw that.
- A sense of humour. The ability to smile and enjoy your life as well as our life.
- Independence. The ability to think and act for yourself... Even if we agree we don't always want you to.
Qualities of a good sub/slave? The qualities her/his Owner wants in his/her sub/slave.
Some (femDoms especially) only want an owned who is totally devoted to them. It means the only duty or desire of the Owner is do as I want, don't tell me about your life, don't care about anything about you except what you can do for me. Some Doms want to micromanage and don't want the owned to think on their own at all including when to pee, when to eat, every little move.
So what is said here is good for this Dom but may not be for some others. Most of what she said is good in any relationship IMO.
<snip>
What is most important to me? FIrst...finding someone who sees this life and my part in it similar to his. Then listen to him and do as he says including carrying through with things I know he needs/wants without having to tell me each time.
Her specific examples aren't quite to my taste, but her central point stands: the most important measure of whether you're a good sub is whether you and your Dom are both happy with your behaviour and your relationship. If you can get that far, where you two are content? Other peoples' opinions just don't matter, so screw the rest.
2014/12/18
Selfies and Struggles
Okay. So. Mike and I are in the process of moving -- we have three weeks to get our current place packed up and whatnot, and last night we were looking through a plastic tote full of miscellaneous tech-bits. Alright, maybe he was going through it and I was half-paying-attention while binge-watching The Flash. Either way, as I said: miscellaneous tech-bits. Several keyboards, lots of Apple cords, some mice, and a bunch of old external hard drives.
Like...a bunch.
We weren't sure which ones still worked and which ones didn't (to say nothing of what was on any of them), so Mike plugged one into his computer for a bit of a look.
It was mine, one I purchased almost a decade ago when my iBook G3 started to go a little wonky. It was small, but apparently held some interesting things -- mostly pictures...and every episode of Star Trek you could ever want, provided you weren't looking for the original series.
Anyway. Mike started looking through the pictures, like one does. And there were a lot.
Like a good early-20s lady, I took a lot of photographs of myself. Most of them were in varying states of undress, and I can't even tell you who I was sending them to -- because I was, for sure, sending them to people. Most of them were taken in my bedroom at my mother's house before I moved out for good, and most of them have some kind of filter on them.
Move over, Instagram, let Ash show you how sexy selfies are done. I probably have more experience in this department than you. You might think of me as a bit of an artiste.
Except, it occurred to me: I don't take pictures of myself anymore.
I was single back then and actually got off on making myself appear attractive in photographs. In my head, that wasn't what I looked like in person, but damn if I wasn't able to ramp up the good-lookin' on the other end of a webcam (and later, the iPhone). It was so strange that people appeared to want me. My standards for partners (for both relationships and hookups) was much lower, and what I wanted was someone to find me so attractive that they would stop at nothing (relatively speaking) to have sex with me. Now I'm almost 31 and often walk out of the house without even so much as a glance in a mirror.
The selfies have gone by the wayside as well, except for the sporadic boob-shots taken in my office bathroom. I used to take more of these, sending them off to Mike's phone in the hopes of getting him hard at his desk or in a meeting with his coworkers. But that didn't really happen, so I gave it up after a while. Understanding Mike's sexual nature (that is to say, some flavor of asexual) was hard, and it took a long time to come to terms with it. I started to feel like I was assaulting him with naked pictures and explicit text messages, all of which received little feedback.
It was hard to understand that I was essentially doing the thing that guys online have done to me and every other woman online for years -- sending unrequested pictures of their junk to an unreceptive recipient. Like them, I wanted a reaction. I wanted to turn someone on. I wanted encouragement, appreciation...anything. Instead, most of the time Mike responded politely, other times he said nothing. While he appreciated the thought, it was more common for the pictures to show up at the worst times possible, making him feel neglectful for not being able to respond the way I wanted, to say nothing of the fact that he wasn't in the mood in the first place and wouldn't necessarily be turned on by some bare skin.
Now, several years in, sexuality doesn't stress our relationship to the same level that it did toward the beginning. Maybe knowing I'm not bound to Mike exclusively allowed my sex drive to cool its heels. Maybe stress and life have made me too tired to even want sex in the first place. Maybe it's just a defense mechanism so I don't spend more time disappointed in something that won't change. Whatever the reason, though -- things aren't perfect, but none of this seems as imminently problematic as it did previously. It took time, it takes work, and sometimes issues STILL come up. It's normal, it's expected, and it's all possible to be dealt with.
Just, you know...be prepared to work your ass off for it. Hopefully it'll be worth it.
Like...a bunch.
We weren't sure which ones still worked and which ones didn't (to say nothing of what was on any of them), so Mike plugged one into his computer for a bit of a look.
It was mine, one I purchased almost a decade ago when my iBook G3 started to go a little wonky. It was small, but apparently held some interesting things -- mostly pictures...and every episode of Star Trek you could ever want, provided you weren't looking for the original series.
Anyway. Mike started looking through the pictures, like one does. And there were a lot.
Like a good early-20s lady, I took a lot of photographs of myself. Most of them were in varying states of undress, and I can't even tell you who I was sending them to -- because I was, for sure, sending them to people. Most of them were taken in my bedroom at my mother's house before I moved out for good, and most of them have some kind of filter on them.
Move over, Instagram, let Ash show you how sexy selfies are done. I probably have more experience in this department than you. You might think of me as a bit of an artiste.
Except, it occurred to me: I don't take pictures of myself anymore.
I was single back then and actually got off on making myself appear attractive in photographs. In my head, that wasn't what I looked like in person, but damn if I wasn't able to ramp up the good-lookin' on the other end of a webcam (and later, the iPhone). It was so strange that people appeared to want me. My standards for partners (for both relationships and hookups) was much lower, and what I wanted was someone to find me so attractive that they would stop at nothing (relatively speaking) to have sex with me. Now I'm almost 31 and often walk out of the house without even so much as a glance in a mirror.
The selfies have gone by the wayside as well, except for the sporadic boob-shots taken in my office bathroom. I used to take more of these, sending them off to Mike's phone in the hopes of getting him hard at his desk or in a meeting with his coworkers. But that didn't really happen, so I gave it up after a while. Understanding Mike's sexual nature (that is to say, some flavor of asexual) was hard, and it took a long time to come to terms with it. I started to feel like I was assaulting him with naked pictures and explicit text messages, all of which received little feedback.
It was hard to understand that I was essentially doing the thing that guys online have done to me and every other woman online for years -- sending unrequested pictures of their junk to an unreceptive recipient. Like them, I wanted a reaction. I wanted to turn someone on. I wanted encouragement, appreciation...anything. Instead, most of the time Mike responded politely, other times he said nothing. While he appreciated the thought, it was more common for the pictures to show up at the worst times possible, making him feel neglectful for not being able to respond the way I wanted, to say nothing of the fact that he wasn't in the mood in the first place and wouldn't necessarily be turned on by some bare skin.
Now, several years in, sexuality doesn't stress our relationship to the same level that it did toward the beginning. Maybe knowing I'm not bound to Mike exclusively allowed my sex drive to cool its heels. Maybe stress and life have made me too tired to even want sex in the first place. Maybe it's just a defense mechanism so I don't spend more time disappointed in something that won't change. Whatever the reason, though -- things aren't perfect, but none of this seems as imminently problematic as it did previously. It took time, it takes work, and sometimes issues STILL come up. It's normal, it's expected, and it's all possible to be dealt with.
Just, you know...be prepared to work your ass off for it. Hopefully it'll be worth it.
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