Something I did not expect happened to me in May. I was offered a chance at a new life. It was presented in the form of a change switch: switch departments with a coworker and have some of the change I've been asking for from my work. Ok then.
I had no idea it was going to be so life-changing for me. I didn't move desks or even titles. I just switched responsibilities and my life was free. The change wasn't immediately felt. It took weeks of transition and training to get to something new.... and there it was.
Free time.
Something I hadn't quite experienced at this level for more than two years.
Two years.
I knew my life was out of balance, but I had no idea just how much it was until I actually came home from work - during the week - and found out I was bored. I had nothing to do! No work during the week in the evenings? Home by 7p every night? No full day of work during the weekend?
What am I going to do with myself?!
For the first week or so, I came home and just plopped on the couch, bored. I was not used to this free time and felt helpless. My fiance tried to make suggestions: paint, read, play a game, clean, laundry, draw, go shoe shopping, suck his penis, etc etc. It was so weird: so many choices and I had no idea which one to pick.
It wasn't like any of them were the wrong choice, just that I wasn't used to have any choice at all. Faced with so many choices, I froze.
I haven't had a choice in a couple of years.
When I started this blog a year and a half or so ago, I spent my weekends writing 2-3 entries while my fiance was ignored for most of a Saturday. It became a problem so I pulled back and writing and the number of entries and my stats reflected that. The past eight or six months have been a dreadful pause on writing; but I, as one person, can only do so much.
And now that I'm in a new department, I can breathe again! Live again! I was speaking with a coworker about this and found myself saying, "Yeah, I have time for a hobby again" and I just stopped speaking. What's a hobby?
I cannot believe I've been living life of 60-70 hour work weeks for so long, I've given up on any sort of hobby. Or life.
I have (or will have) a life again! I have no idea what to do with all of this time -- but surely I will find a way to occupy myself, right?
Step one: catch up on blogging.
Showing posts with label life event. Show all posts
Showing posts with label life event. Show all posts
Saturday, June 22, 2013
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Small steps: progress on making me a priority
So on the first of the month, I wrote about how I wanted to make some changes in my life. The feeling of being overwhelmed with work has not waned at all, but just having a perspective and attitude adjustment has helped. It's helped more than I realized it would, actually.
My meditation/cleansing room is very much a work in progress. I went looking for cheap paint in the "Oops we mixed the wrong color" section at Lowe's - haven't found any I want yet, but I'd love to start the painting in that room with colors that take something considered useless and turn it into something lovely. Repurposed, just like the room and my focus.
My detox on work has been the highlight of the past few weeks. I'm calling it a detox for several reasons. First, I'm getting better at putting the work phone down when I get home and NOT checking it until the next morning. While several of my days have turned into long nights, I've made it a point to close the laptop, put it away, and focus on us. It's helped that my boyfriend needs frequent foot and shoulder massages as a result of his job. I do this during our together time in the evening while watching TV. When I need a foot massage or a neck massage from my long days, he's always there for me.
And when we're not massaging each other, we are curled up on the couch, someone's head on a lap. Normally his head is on mine, as I don't like to lay down and watch TV. On a really stressful day, he'll have me lay down, and he'll pet my hair and tell me how he loves me and take care of me.
I love these evening rituals together. I've let them get away from me. I've skipped them. Had my phone or laptop out for twitter or work. Now I don't. It's completely for us now. Its all that matters.
Now for a big change. I signed up for an exercise class. I've actually never been to a class with other people. I've belonged to gyms and even had personal trainers - all I let them do is keep me on track. I hated the focus and I wasn't super serious about making changes. This is a huge, major step for me.
I am so nervous. I'm nervous of wearing my loose and baggy exercise clothes on a body I'm not confident in in front of other people. It doesn't matter that everyone will be a stranger - oh gosh I hope they are! - as I just don't want to sweat and look exhausted in front of other people.
I also do not like the appearance of weakness. In anything. Its a huge psychological block, but one way I get in trouble with my body is trying to prove "I can do it." I can't push myself too hard or I'll end up hurting my body. My entire focus will be to take it easy, take it easy, take it easy. Warm up to it. After years of sitting on my ass, my body will need some time to get used to this new routine.
I'm freaked out. Nervous. Excited. Change is coming... I am ready.
My meditation/cleansing room is very much a work in progress. I went looking for cheap paint in the "Oops we mixed the wrong color" section at Lowe's - haven't found any I want yet, but I'd love to start the painting in that room with colors that take something considered useless and turn it into something lovely. Repurposed, just like the room and my focus.
My detox on work has been the highlight of the past few weeks. I'm calling it a detox for several reasons. First, I'm getting better at putting the work phone down when I get home and NOT checking it until the next morning. While several of my days have turned into long nights, I've made it a point to close the laptop, put it away, and focus on us. It's helped that my boyfriend needs frequent foot and shoulder massages as a result of his job. I do this during our together time in the evening while watching TV. When I need a foot massage or a neck massage from my long days, he's always there for me.
And when we're not massaging each other, we are curled up on the couch, someone's head on a lap. Normally his head is on mine, as I don't like to lay down and watch TV. On a really stressful day, he'll have me lay down, and he'll pet my hair and tell me how he loves me and take care of me.
I love these evening rituals together. I've let them get away from me. I've skipped them. Had my phone or laptop out for twitter or work. Now I don't. It's completely for us now. Its all that matters.
Now for a big change. I signed up for an exercise class. I've actually never been to a class with other people. I've belonged to gyms and even had personal trainers - all I let them do is keep me on track. I hated the focus and I wasn't super serious about making changes. This is a huge, major step for me.
I am so nervous. I'm nervous of wearing my loose and baggy exercise clothes on a body I'm not confident in in front of other people. It doesn't matter that everyone will be a stranger - oh gosh I hope they are! - as I just don't want to sweat and look exhausted in front of other people.
I also do not like the appearance of weakness. In anything. Its a huge psychological block, but one way I get in trouble with my body is trying to prove "I can do it." I can't push myself too hard or I'll end up hurting my body. My entire focus will be to take it easy, take it easy, take it easy. Warm up to it. After years of sitting on my ass, my body will need some time to get used to this new routine.
I'm freaked out. Nervous. Excited. Change is coming... I am ready.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
My biggest regret, or another reason I'm a sex blogger
My biggest regret has nothing and everything to do with my ex. As much as I want to separate him from it, or include him even to the point of blaming him, I know that's not fair. There is no point of the finger or easy fix to this. And it haunts me.
This will take some explaining.
I was a 16 year old high school graduate (I know I was young -- but homeschooling does have its advantages sometimes)... who wanted to go to college, but whose parents were completely against letting their underage daughter on any university campus. As a compromise, I agreed to go to a very conservative, private Christian college where the dorms had curfews and class attendance was mandatory, so I would be well watched. I was.
I started out as a religious studies major, as I've always loved world religions and how man interacts with them. I met my ex, my first real boyfriend. We started dating in February, and by May I was convinced he was "the one." I spent the year in France studying the French language, and fell in love with what felt like my people and my home. I visited the little French village my grandfather lived in and the home he stayed in during World War 2. My heritage, my home.
Coming back to the States made me an emotional wreck. The first few weeks back at college were terrible. I was depressed and homesick. Now 18, I considered running away... but with a zero balance in the bank knew I wouldn't get far after I charged a plane ticket to my credit card.
I remember sitting at my desk in my dorm room, crying. Sobbing. I was mourning my loss. I had wanted to stay - another 2 trimesters and I would have been ready for the DALF exam to gain access to French Universities --- and then just run off into the sunset of French education. But no, I rocked myself in my chair, arms crossed, and wept. I was stuck... the ex and I were now engaged, and I remember thinking, as I rocked in my chair, how dangerous continuing this relationship was. I wasn't sure if my love for him was as strong as my love for France/Home. I remember saying aloud, "I hope I don't hurt him."
The wedding was 4 weeks after graduation. I ended up a dual major, French and Psychology. I loved both equally. In French I found myself, in Psychology I pursued my interest in sex and research. Every project I completed was related to sex. My senior project had a huge representative sample size and showed a statistically significant correlation between pornography use and sexual activity on our campus. Entirely shocking for our extremely conservative campus; I liked to talk about what no one else would.
Graduation. We both wanted grad school. I was torn - French, or Psychology? In French, I could teach, write, talk, travel. I could still connect to that Home. In Psychology, I could continue learning, teaching, and researching. I loved the research. I couldn't decide, and he did. We mapped out our future like this:
1. Marriage
2. He attends grad school for 5 years while I support him
3. I attend grad school for 5 years while he supports me
4. We start a family and live happily ever after
Here's the problem: I had 2 degrees that require either a teaching certificate or Masters in order to work in those fields, so I ended up working in business -- an area I had no interest in, but could use my ability to teach and work with people to become a trainer and problem solver.
During his 3rd year of grad school, I was already tired of waiting for my turn. I could feel the clock ticking on my ability to transition to a grad program where either a knowledge of very advanced French grammar and vocab OR statistics and all those personality theories would be required. Each semester he was in school, I felt like I was bleeding knowledge. French words came slower; some were forgotten. I wasn't using the language and it was dying inside of me.
In my free time, I researched programs. When I read about Middlebury College and its language programs, part of me died. It was the heaven I wanted in a grad program! But it was so impractical - we were married. Spouses don't just up and live across the country and neither one work and both go to expensive grad programs! So I would wait. And the clock ticked. And more language died in me.
I turned back to Psychology -- and sex. And fascination grew. I loved sex - reading about it, studying it, researching it -- and yet, my sex life SUCKED. I hated sex in real life.... I was so unhappy. Disconnected. I did research. I tried to fix things. Resentment grew for many reasons. But could I actually go down the route of Sexual Psychology? Sexual Anthropology? Counseling Psychology? If I was such a fail in my own life, how could I even consider it professionally? And so the dream died within me.
When I was out of options, I turned to TESOL. This was a program that worked with languages and could be used in the USA or anywhere in the world where an English teacher was needed. If I were ever on my own, I could go anywhere... and not be stuck wasting my talents where I wasn't sure they belonged. So during his fourth year of grad school, I researched schools and planned. During his fifth year I applied, and three months after his graduation, I started my own grad program.
At another private school. A year after his graduation, we were getting divorced. In the mess of things, I didn't stop to think about this consequences of this program, until I was 2 semesters from graduation and realized: my monthly student loan bills + rent + transportation would eat up almost my entire paycheck in this new career field. And that was positive thinking.
I quit the program. Officially I'm on a leave of absence for personal reasons while I consider throwing away 18 credits of grad school in a career and degree I'll probably never use.
So, now what? I'm 28. I owe nearly $60k in student loans. And now, more than ever, do I regret not making the choice to make Psychology and my love of sex a career. I started reading otherwise dull, academic books about sex while I was an undergrad. I am made for this career.
I love to teach. Talk. Listen. Challenge. Research. I've had such a journey from sexual mismatch horror to such perfect connection.... I know so much about exploration and kink. I come from a conservative background - something I still wrestle with in understanding how I think about things.
I've talked a lot about why I'm a sex blogger: Joy. Joy that has to be shared. Joy spilling out. The simple fact is: I love sex. Not just experiencing it. I love the biology of it across all animals. I love the emotional aspect. I love the cognitive process of sex. And that's a major reason why I write this blog: It's my passion.
My passion is sharing, exploring, and hopefully helping others explore and find their satisfaction. I write because if I don't I cannot focus on anything else until its done. I have to write. I've limited this blog to my own sexual experiences for the most part. Perhaps I need to expand to include some of the books and articles I read.
But deep down, there's nothing that I want more than to make this my career. But at $60k in the hole on student loans, I'm not sure I can even afford a student life, not to mention the bill for when in 2-7 years I completely program and press "restart" on my career and debt repayments.
I feel stuck. Trapped. At the bottom of a well.
There is no one to blame. I could blame my parents for limiting my scope of choice in a college and the possibilities connected with that. I could blame my ex for stealing 6 years of possible grad school from me and being OK with me throwing my dreams down the toilet in the name of "love."
Really, I can blame myself. I do blame myself. All along this story I've made choices, and they were ones where my gut was always conflicted. Torn. Uncertain. I'm not sure I ever chose the right road.
Right now I feel conflicted, torn, and uncertain. I don't know what choice to make.
This will take some explaining.
I was a 16 year old high school graduate (I know I was young -- but homeschooling does have its advantages sometimes)... who wanted to go to college, but whose parents were completely against letting their underage daughter on any university campus. As a compromise, I agreed to go to a very conservative, private Christian college where the dorms had curfews and class attendance was mandatory, so I would be well watched. I was.
I started out as a religious studies major, as I've always loved world religions and how man interacts with them. I met my ex, my first real boyfriend. We started dating in February, and by May I was convinced he was "the one." I spent the year in France studying the French language, and fell in love with what felt like my people and my home. I visited the little French village my grandfather lived in and the home he stayed in during World War 2. My heritage, my home.
Coming back to the States made me an emotional wreck. The first few weeks back at college were terrible. I was depressed and homesick. Now 18, I considered running away... but with a zero balance in the bank knew I wouldn't get far after I charged a plane ticket to my credit card.
I remember sitting at my desk in my dorm room, crying. Sobbing. I was mourning my loss. I had wanted to stay - another 2 trimesters and I would have been ready for the DALF exam to gain access to French Universities --- and then just run off into the sunset of French education. But no, I rocked myself in my chair, arms crossed, and wept. I was stuck... the ex and I were now engaged, and I remember thinking, as I rocked in my chair, how dangerous continuing this relationship was. I wasn't sure if my love for him was as strong as my love for France/Home. I remember saying aloud, "I hope I don't hurt him."
The wedding was 4 weeks after graduation. I ended up a dual major, French and Psychology. I loved both equally. In French I found myself, in Psychology I pursued my interest in sex and research. Every project I completed was related to sex. My senior project had a huge representative sample size and showed a statistically significant correlation between pornography use and sexual activity on our campus. Entirely shocking for our extremely conservative campus; I liked to talk about what no one else would.
Graduation. We both wanted grad school. I was torn - French, or Psychology? In French, I could teach, write, talk, travel. I could still connect to that Home. In Psychology, I could continue learning, teaching, and researching. I loved the research. I couldn't decide, and he did. We mapped out our future like this:
1. Marriage
2. He attends grad school for 5 years while I support him
3. I attend grad school for 5 years while he supports me
4. We start a family and live happily ever after
Here's the problem: I had 2 degrees that require either a teaching certificate or Masters in order to work in those fields, so I ended up working in business -- an area I had no interest in, but could use my ability to teach and work with people to become a trainer and problem solver.
During his 3rd year of grad school, I was already tired of waiting for my turn. I could feel the clock ticking on my ability to transition to a grad program where either a knowledge of very advanced French grammar and vocab OR statistics and all those personality theories would be required. Each semester he was in school, I felt like I was bleeding knowledge. French words came slower; some were forgotten. I wasn't using the language and it was dying inside of me.
In my free time, I researched programs. When I read about Middlebury College and its language programs, part of me died. It was the heaven I wanted in a grad program! But it was so impractical - we were married. Spouses don't just up and live across the country and neither one work and both go to expensive grad programs! So I would wait. And the clock ticked. And more language died in me.
I turned back to Psychology -- and sex. And fascination grew. I loved sex - reading about it, studying it, researching it -- and yet, my sex life SUCKED. I hated sex in real life.... I was so unhappy. Disconnected. I did research. I tried to fix things. Resentment grew for many reasons. But could I actually go down the route of Sexual Psychology? Sexual Anthropology? Counseling Psychology? If I was such a fail in my own life, how could I even consider it professionally? And so the dream died within me.
When I was out of options, I turned to TESOL. This was a program that worked with languages and could be used in the USA or anywhere in the world where an English teacher was needed. If I were ever on my own, I could go anywhere... and not be stuck wasting my talents where I wasn't sure they belonged. So during his fourth year of grad school, I researched schools and planned. During his fifth year I applied, and three months after his graduation, I started my own grad program.
At another private school. A year after his graduation, we were getting divorced. In the mess of things, I didn't stop to think about this consequences of this program, until I was 2 semesters from graduation and realized: my monthly student loan bills + rent + transportation would eat up almost my entire paycheck in this new career field. And that was positive thinking.
I quit the program. Officially I'm on a leave of absence for personal reasons while I consider throwing away 18 credits of grad school in a career and degree I'll probably never use.
So, now what? I'm 28. I owe nearly $60k in student loans. And now, more than ever, do I regret not making the choice to make Psychology and my love of sex a career. I started reading otherwise dull, academic books about sex while I was an undergrad. I am made for this career.
I love to teach. Talk. Listen. Challenge. Research. I've had such a journey from sexual mismatch horror to such perfect connection.... I know so much about exploration and kink. I come from a conservative background - something I still wrestle with in understanding how I think about things.
I've talked a lot about why I'm a sex blogger: Joy. Joy that has to be shared. Joy spilling out. The simple fact is: I love sex. Not just experiencing it. I love the biology of it across all animals. I love the emotional aspect. I love the cognitive process of sex. And that's a major reason why I write this blog: It's my passion.
My passion is sharing, exploring, and hopefully helping others explore and find their satisfaction. I write because if I don't I cannot focus on anything else until its done. I have to write. I've limited this blog to my own sexual experiences for the most part. Perhaps I need to expand to include some of the books and articles I read.
But deep down, there's nothing that I want more than to make this my career. But at $60k in the hole on student loans, I'm not sure I can even afford a student life, not to mention the bill for when in 2-7 years I completely program and press "restart" on my career and debt repayments.
I feel stuck. Trapped. At the bottom of a well.
There is no one to blame. I could blame my parents for limiting my scope of choice in a college and the possibilities connected with that. I could blame my ex for stealing 6 years of possible grad school from me and being OK with me throwing my dreams down the toilet in the name of "love."
Really, I can blame myself. I do blame myself. All along this story I've made choices, and they were ones where my gut was always conflicted. Torn. Uncertain. I'm not sure I ever chose the right road.
Right now I feel conflicted, torn, and uncertain. I don't know what choice to make.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Recap: His parents visit
His parents came to visit us, the first time they've done that. We have visited them three times as a couple. The first time I met them was when we were packing up his apartment to move in with me - only three weeks after we had met for the first time! At the time I was afraid they would be against such a quick decision on both our parts, but I've never seen any hesitation or distrust in our relationship, or dislike of me. In fact, quite the opposite.
Most hilarious moment: We were giving his parents the grand tour of our home, and BF showed them our giant master closet. What is in the center of the doorway? BF's pink high heel shoes! Both parents notice them, and his dad asks me, "Do you actually wear those?" So I lie and say yes, but rarely since I have a weak ankle. In my head my thoughts are as follows: Oh no! We forgot those.... Should I excuse them as "fuck me" heels? NO I CAN'T SAY THAT!!! Oh please don't ask me to try them on... or put them on... they are 4 sizes too big! He didn't ask, and later I threw them on my side of the closet with my other heels. I hope they didn't look closer or they would notice the size difference.
Saddest moment: On talking colors, I mention something about BF wearing pink, and his dad's homophobia rears its ugly head where he tells me I better not "change his son into a... you know, 'fairy.'" His mom speaks up and reminds dad that BF wore pink as a little boy. Dad shuts up, but its not the only time he makes that kind of comment. BF will never be able to come out as bisexual publicly.
Sweetest moment:
Friday night, about 30 minutes after arriving from their 14 hour drive, his dad said to me:
If it had been ANYONE else who had made him move so far away, I'd kill 'em.
Yummiest moment: We introduce his parents to Middle Eastern food, specifically to some spiced lamb kebobs cooked by a Jordanian man at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. They are blown away by how good it is.
Oddest moment: At some point we talked about arguing, as we've been doing more of that lately. I fully admitted a lot of it is due to me not letting go of work stress and letting my extra sensitivity affect our relationship. His mom was shocked and said, "I thought you two didn't fight!?" We both laughed and said we do, but its never anything serious or close to relationship ending (like we see on facebook with his older siblings - frequently). She was still surprised, and I'm not sure why she would assume we never fight.
Most loving moment: My BF and I gave up our bed for his parents for 2 of the 3 nights. His dad has a very bad back and we didn't want him to suffer. His mom can sleep anywhere, no problem. They tried to fight our decision but we over-ruled them. This left me on the couch and my BF on a twin air mattress.
I could barely sleep, my "princess and the pea" sleeping habits prevented it. Every position felt uncomfortable and awkward. I tossed and turned. The second night I could barely sleep and I finally sat up and starting crying out of frustration. I realized part of my problem was that I was missing my teeth-guard (I grind my teeth at night) and without that, I never slept well. It was locked in our bathroom inside our bedroom where his parents were sleeping.
He heard my restlessness and woke up.
"What's wrong, beautiful?"
I vented my frustration and lack of sleep, then told him of the missing teeth-guard. He asked where it was and I told him.
He was up and gone before I realized he wasn't lying down anymore. He came back down stairs, placed the teeth-guard in my hand, kissed my forehead, and told me he loved me.
I was moved. Middle of the night quest to help me sleep and relax. I wasn't going to wake him or ask him to do it. I didn't expect it of him. He held my hand as we laid back down in our respective beds, and I fell asleep for a few peaceful hours.
It's amazing what love can do.
Most hilarious moment: We were giving his parents the grand tour of our home, and BF showed them our giant master closet. What is in the center of the doorway? BF's pink high heel shoes! Both parents notice them, and his dad asks me, "Do you actually wear those?" So I lie and say yes, but rarely since I have a weak ankle. In my head my thoughts are as follows: Oh no! We forgot those.... Should I excuse them as "fuck me" heels? NO I CAN'T SAY THAT!!! Oh please don't ask me to try them on... or put them on... they are 4 sizes too big! He didn't ask, and later I threw them on my side of the closet with my other heels. I hope they didn't look closer or they would notice the size difference.
Saddest moment: On talking colors, I mention something about BF wearing pink, and his dad's homophobia rears its ugly head where he tells me I better not "change his son into a... you know, 'fairy.'" His mom speaks up and reminds dad that BF wore pink as a little boy. Dad shuts up, but its not the only time he makes that kind of comment. BF will never be able to come out as bisexual publicly.
Sweetest moment:
Friday night, about 30 minutes after arriving from their 14 hour drive, his dad said to me:
If it had been ANYONE else who had made him move so far away, I'd kill 'em.
Yummiest moment: We introduce his parents to Middle Eastern food, specifically to some spiced lamb kebobs cooked by a Jordanian man at a hole-in-the-wall restaurant. They are blown away by how good it is.
Oddest moment: At some point we talked about arguing, as we've been doing more of that lately. I fully admitted a lot of it is due to me not letting go of work stress and letting my extra sensitivity affect our relationship. His mom was shocked and said, "I thought you two didn't fight!?" We both laughed and said we do, but its never anything serious or close to relationship ending (like we see on facebook with his older siblings - frequently). She was still surprised, and I'm not sure why she would assume we never fight.
Most loving moment: My BF and I gave up our bed for his parents for 2 of the 3 nights. His dad has a very bad back and we didn't want him to suffer. His mom can sleep anywhere, no problem. They tried to fight our decision but we over-ruled them. This left me on the couch and my BF on a twin air mattress.
I could barely sleep, my "princess and the pea" sleeping habits prevented it. Every position felt uncomfortable and awkward. I tossed and turned. The second night I could barely sleep and I finally sat up and starting crying out of frustration. I realized part of my problem was that I was missing my teeth-guard (I grind my teeth at night) and without that, I never slept well. It was locked in our bathroom inside our bedroom where his parents were sleeping.
He heard my restlessness and woke up.
"What's wrong, beautiful?"
I vented my frustration and lack of sleep, then told him of the missing teeth-guard. He asked where it was and I told him.
He was up and gone before I realized he wasn't lying down anymore. He came back down stairs, placed the teeth-guard in my hand, kissed my forehead, and told me he loved me.
I was moved. Middle of the night quest to help me sleep and relax. I wasn't going to wake him or ask him to do it. I didn't expect it of him. He held my hand as we laid back down in our respective beds, and I fell asleep for a few peaceful hours.
It's amazing what love can do.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
When I want to start having sex
On twitter, @Saynine asked the question - does anyone wait 6 dates or more for sex? He had seen this response on OK Cupid and was a little surprised at the length of time. A very respectful, healthy discussion followed among a large group of people. On the whole, most people had sex earlier than six dates. Their reason? Sexual compatibility before emotional compatibility.
For me, this just doesn't jive. I can't actually imagine having my priorities that way. Just thinking about approaching life that way makes my brain say, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S CRAZY!" Ok, calm down brain. I'm not asking you to change who you are. At least I know my mental/emotional limits.
I have absolutely nothing against someone who can live life successfully this way - really. I fully respect people are different and can have sex on the first date and end up happy together (just like @saynine and a bunch of other twitter people have). For me, it's just not how I approach life and relationships. That conversation happened early 8 hours ago but I haven't stopped thinking about it.
Why did so many feel comfortable with sex on the first date when it seemed so few responded that that was too soon? Does my background/upbringing impact this more than I realize? Why, exactly, do I feel so strongly against this?
Let's start with a few disclaimers.
For me, this just doesn't jive. I can't actually imagine having my priorities that way. Just thinking about approaching life that way makes my brain say, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S CRAZY!" Ok, calm down brain. I'm not asking you to change who you are. At least I know my mental/emotional limits.
I have absolutely nothing against someone who can live life successfully this way - really. I fully respect people are different and can have sex on the first date and end up happy together (just like @saynine and a bunch of other twitter people have). For me, it's just not how I approach life and relationships. That conversation happened early 8 hours ago but I haven't stopped thinking about it.
Why did so many feel comfortable with sex on the first date when it seemed so few responded that that was too soon? Does my background/upbringing impact this more than I realize? Why, exactly, do I feel so strongly against this?
Let's start with a few disclaimers.
- First, as I've mentioned several times, I've only had 2 sexual partners. My experience on dating and starting a sexual relationship is limited.
- Also, I've never been on an actual first date. Let me explain: I started dating my first partner in college. We hung out for months and we were around each other so much that people assumed we were dating, so we just started dating under the logic, "Everyone thinks we are, so let's give it a shot and see if it's the good idea everyone else seems to think it is." Yeah, I was an idiot. (In my defense, I was only 17 and had only long-distance dated 1 other person.) But once we first started "dating" officially, we didn't go out on any official dates. We just continued hanging out like we always had. Then when I started dating the boyfriend, but we met long distance. Our first "date" was more than a month after we started dating long distance. We were already skype masturbating, so sex upon meeting made sense.
- I grew up in a very conservative, Christian home. Sex was not discussed. You didn't kiss anyone unless you loved them. Sex was only OK within marriage... etc. You know the type. This whole background was a major part of the problem why my first sexual relationship failed: I had no idea what you should be looking for in a potential sexual partner or relationship. I didn't know what to think about, look for, and had no idea there was quite a range of sexual preference and tastes.
- I don't trust people that easily. Yes, I'll take you at your word up until a point. However, I have no way of knowing you're telling me the truth when we've only just met. How do I know you're telling me the truth on what you want, are interested in, or your last STD test was as clean as you say it was? How do I know you're not going to use me to get off and not call me again?
- Before you even kiss me, I want to know we have chemistry. Flirt with me, show me interest, let's get to know each other. Can we even flirt? I've had men flirt with me and I've been repulsed by it. Just because you're attracted to me, I won't be attracted to you.
- I have to be attracted to you, and I'm not automatically attracted to someone. Personality is a huge part of attraction for me. I am not attracted to the physical outright. I need time to let my attraction grow.
- I'm not a fan of casual sex. I prefer sex within a relationship. A relationship doesn't happen overnight or after a date or two. It takes time to develop.
- Sex can be confusing. I've seen it happen with friends... the sex is great, but the rest of the relationship sucks. It muddies the waters. You can't see clearly and you end up staying in a relationship when you really should end it. I don't ever want to be in that situation. I need to establish the rest of my relationship -- and then bring sex into the equation.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Positive Reception
I write this blog in relative anonymity. In a way, I really hate having to do this. I love to be honest and just talk and share about sex and sexual experiences. I don't have a problem sharing, yet I suspect others see me as unwilling or disinterested. A couple of years ago, I was compared to "Charlotte" from SATC because, apparently, I'm viewed as very proper and not very kinky at all. If only they knew...
I've actually told 2 real life friends about this blog. The reception has been better than I really expected.
First I told a friend from college who I had actually shared a bit of my private life with before I even started my blog. I know her to be very open minded and I knew she would be understanding if not accepting of my writing. As it turns out, she really likes (possibly love) my blog. She identifies as queer and I love talking sexuality with her. I thought she would only take a look at it, but I think she's become a (semi) regular reader.
Then I told my sister. I really wasn't sure if she'd be interested, but one day I just blurted out "So I'm a sex blogger" and I didn't get much of a reaction. A few months later I mentioned it again and she wanted more details. A few days later, I sent her the blog link.
Within minutes I was getting all sorts of questions. What's pegging? What do you think of ____? What do you recommend for a vibe? What about lube?
And the floodgates of communication opened like I had always wanted but was unsure could happen. We can fully talk about sex and toys... it was such an awesome day when she told me that she no longer felt awkward talking to me about sex. She calls for advice and no question is off limits.
We don't share intimate details (OK, well I do on the blog...). At the most we share topics of how often, what we like, what we did, how sex fits into our normal routines. I've given her topic previews of what is coming up on the blog. Some things she wants to hear, others give her pause with a reaction like, "What? You had a guy over and pegged him? Wow."
There's no judgement. Not everything is a shared interest, but that would just make our conversations boring.
I couldn't have hoped for a more positive response from my college friend or my sister (my best friend). I'd love to share with a few more friends who I think might be open to my perspective, but I'm not rushing things. For now I really enjoy my anonymity and I have no intention of just outing myself to the world (however fun the initial shock might be).
In reality, it took a leap of faith for my college friend to come out to me and then for us both to share about sexuality and our personal experiences. The same could be said for my sister. If either had had a negative reaction it wouldn't have changed a thing, but I've gained so much in return. The most important is being valued for my true self, which is the best I think anyone could hope for.
On a final note, the funniest thing that's been said about my blog: "Now I know you've been naked on everything, especially your couch. I don't want to sit on it now."
My response, "Hey, we haven't spilled any bodily fluids on it!"
I've actually told 2 real life friends about this blog. The reception has been better than I really expected.
First I told a friend from college who I had actually shared a bit of my private life with before I even started my blog. I know her to be very open minded and I knew she would be understanding if not accepting of my writing. As it turns out, she really likes (possibly love) my blog. She identifies as queer and I love talking sexuality with her. I thought she would only take a look at it, but I think she's become a (semi) regular reader.
Then I told my sister. I really wasn't sure if she'd be interested, but one day I just blurted out "So I'm a sex blogger" and I didn't get much of a reaction. A few months later I mentioned it again and she wanted more details. A few days later, I sent her the blog link.
Within minutes I was getting all sorts of questions. What's pegging? What do you think of ____? What do you recommend for a vibe? What about lube?
And the floodgates of communication opened like I had always wanted but was unsure could happen. We can fully talk about sex and toys... it was such an awesome day when she told me that she no longer felt awkward talking to me about sex. She calls for advice and no question is off limits.
We don't share intimate details (OK, well I do on the blog...). At the most we share topics of how often, what we like, what we did, how sex fits into our normal routines. I've given her topic previews of what is coming up on the blog. Some things she wants to hear, others give her pause with a reaction like, "What? You had a guy over and pegged him? Wow."
There's no judgement. Not everything is a shared interest, but that would just make our conversations boring.
I couldn't have hoped for a more positive response from my college friend or my sister (my best friend). I'd love to share with a few more friends who I think might be open to my perspective, but I'm not rushing things. For now I really enjoy my anonymity and I have no intention of just outing myself to the world (however fun the initial shock might be).
In reality, it took a leap of faith for my college friend to come out to me and then for us both to share about sexuality and our personal experiences. The same could be said for my sister. If either had had a negative reaction it wouldn't have changed a thing, but I've gained so much in return. The most important is being valued for my true self, which is the best I think anyone could hope for.
On a final note, the funniest thing that's been said about my blog: "Now I know you've been naked on everything, especially your couch. I don't want to sit on it now."
My response, "Hey, we haven't spilled any bodily fluids on it!"
Monday, July 9, 2012
Lust and the No-Sex Pact
As I mentioned a few weeks ago, the BF and I started a "no-sex pact" where we wouldn't have penis-in-vagina (PIV) sex until we moved into our house. Then it would be an explosion of sex. We were supposed to last 24 days. Halfway through, I posted an update where I described some of unexpected "side affects" of such a deal.
I think we had some of our hottest orgasms during these days. We found new ways to pleasure each other (and yes, details on that coming soon!).
But on day 18, we gave in. Day 18 was the day after we closed on the house. After work, we looked around at this house that we have together, our future home, and we gave in to lust and passion.
We didn't even get fully naked. We skipped foreplay.We pulled off pants and underwear, and he fucked me on the floor. He jacked himself off looking at my pussy. I fingered my clit waiting for him; I was on the floor, and his dick was hard in seconds. He laid down and slid slowly into me....
Eighteen days of waiting was over. He filled me up, my pussy surrounding his dick. I felt tight around him and lost myself in the feeling of just his dick sliding in and out of me. He moaned and held my head between his hands, elbows supporting him.
I didn't feel the hard floor beneath me. I didn't care about the carpet under my ass. All I could feel was his weight on me and his dick in me. He ground his pelvis against mine, slightly stimulating my clit. He reached down and started fingered my clit and my already-present moans started to become light, soft screams. He brought me close to orgasm, but not quite. He slowed his fucking while using his fingers to pleasure me.... I wanted more fucking.
I pushed his hand off of me and placed my own finger on my clit. I begged him to fuck me more, fuck me harder, fuck me faster... I needed more dick in me. He fucked away at me, kneeling upright so I could really get my clit. My orgasm built for a long time, and as I could tell it was getting ready to build, I started telling him I was getting ready to cum. It wasn't really telling him, but the panicked, about to orgasm talk:
"I'm gonna cum... oh I gonna cum... oh fuck oh fuck I'm gonna cum!"
When I came, I screamed as loudly as I needed to - it echoed through the empty house. My body was consumed with the full body orgasm. I arched up against him with just my shoulders and a bit of my ass on the ground. I came screaming and twitching.
My orgasm lasted what felt like a full minute; I'm not sure what it was in reality. I remember my body relaxing in a trembling mess on the floor. I relaxed... and the endorphins took over. I have no memory of how he came... I assume it was in me.
We fucked again later that night.
And then the cleaning, packing, and moving started taking over. Sex and orgasms became luxuries. We fell asleep too tired to for sex, so masturbation took over, if that. The heat wave didn't help. We ran ragged. Moving day came and went - and to celebrate, I rode him cowgirl. Sex began to pick back up, but at a slower than normal pace. It took a few days of unpacking and cleaning for things to calm down where we returned to normal. Like today.
We have unpacked the sex toys and the lube, we have moments to relax. We fucked three times on Sunday. We are once again walking around naked. There is some very naughty sex plans in the works... more details to come.
I think we had some of our hottest orgasms during these days. We found new ways to pleasure each other (and yes, details on that coming soon!).
But on day 18, we gave in. Day 18 was the day after we closed on the house. After work, we looked around at this house that we have together, our future home, and we gave in to lust and passion.
We didn't even get fully naked. We skipped foreplay.We pulled off pants and underwear, and he fucked me on the floor. He jacked himself off looking at my pussy. I fingered my clit waiting for him; I was on the floor, and his dick was hard in seconds. He laid down and slid slowly into me....
Eighteen days of waiting was over. He filled me up, my pussy surrounding his dick. I felt tight around him and lost myself in the feeling of just his dick sliding in and out of me. He moaned and held my head between his hands, elbows supporting him.
I didn't feel the hard floor beneath me. I didn't care about the carpet under my ass. All I could feel was his weight on me and his dick in me. He ground his pelvis against mine, slightly stimulating my clit. He reached down and started fingered my clit and my already-present moans started to become light, soft screams. He brought me close to orgasm, but not quite. He slowed his fucking while using his fingers to pleasure me.... I wanted more fucking.
I pushed his hand off of me and placed my own finger on my clit. I begged him to fuck me more, fuck me harder, fuck me faster... I needed more dick in me. He fucked away at me, kneeling upright so I could really get my clit. My orgasm built for a long time, and as I could tell it was getting ready to build, I started telling him I was getting ready to cum. It wasn't really telling him, but the panicked, about to orgasm talk:
"I'm gonna cum... oh I gonna cum... oh fuck oh fuck I'm gonna cum!"
When I came, I screamed as loudly as I needed to - it echoed through the empty house. My body was consumed with the full body orgasm. I arched up against him with just my shoulders and a bit of my ass on the ground. I came screaming and twitching.
My orgasm lasted what felt like a full minute; I'm not sure what it was in reality. I remember my body relaxing in a trembling mess on the floor. I relaxed... and the endorphins took over. I have no memory of how he came... I assume it was in me.
We fucked again later that night.
And then the cleaning, packing, and moving started taking over. Sex and orgasms became luxuries. We fell asleep too tired to for sex, so masturbation took over, if that. The heat wave didn't help. We ran ragged. Moving day came and went - and to celebrate, I rode him cowgirl. Sex began to pick back up, but at a slower than normal pace. It took a few days of unpacking and cleaning for things to calm down where we returned to normal. Like today.
We have unpacked the sex toys and the lube, we have moments to relax. We fucked three times on Sunday. We are once again walking around naked. There is some very naughty sex plans in the works... more details to come.
Monday, June 25, 2012
Update on our "No sex pact"
As we've announced on twitter, we are closing on our first home this coming week. This has been in the works for several months and we could not be more excited that it's coming to an end. We have been talking for a while about celebrating this awesome milestone, but how?
I know there are some things we've been waiting to experience together in the new home, like him dominating me or him tying me up and really letting me have it. He won't do either of those now because he needs me to be able to scream without alerting the neighbors. But those are thing that will not happen right away.
One day when we were talking about how my pussy has changed he joked about not having sex for a while to see if that made a difference. Of course when he says this we both end up laughing, there's no way we could just withhold sex for months... but what about weeks? I don't remember how the conversation went, but someone suggested not having sex until we were officially moved into the house, and the other agreed.
What we didn't consider was that moving day was 23 days away.
As of this post, we are on day 12. Twelve days without penis-in-vagina sex.
It's not a dry spell, as we are both horny and wanton. In fact, we are even more horny as a result. We are indulging in everything else. The past twelve days have included anal sex, handjobs, toys, and tons of oral.
In a way, our sex life has never been so hot.
We've never been so on fire for each other. When I get home from work we are immediately in the bedroom making out and sucking on each other. And then at bedtime we want more.
I've noticed a few things from this. First, he's become more generous in wanting me to not have just an orgasm or two, but 5, 8, 10, or more. He may give me a few, and when I'm doing satisfying him he wants to give more. And then I give more back.
We are more desperate to be with each other. We can't stand to be apart while I'm at work. During our couch cuddle time in the evening we are now naked and he is laying on my body, feeling me up a bit before bedtime.
We are fighting more. I think our passion for each other is closer to the surface, but that means it's easier to trigger some stupid argument. We fight passionately over stupid stuff, then all of a sudden it dissipates and we end up just holding each other.
So, is it worth it? So far, I think so. Call it an experiment in sex. An experiment in our relationship. Since we've been together, we've only abstained from PIV sex for three days. And it was a very long three days. When it ended, we had three very hot, explosive rounds of sex in a hotel room. I can only imagine that, if three days resulted in that kind of reaction, what would three weeks do?
So we're looking forward to the date with a LOT of anticipation. It will be an awesome, amazing night. And in the meantime, we are rediscovering and just enjoying all the ways we give handjobs, oral sex, cuddling, and masturbation. Oh, lots of masturbation.
So here we are, on fire for each other, denying ourselves for a purpose. It's hot, driving us wild, and we are loving and hating every moment of it.
I know there are some things we've been waiting to experience together in the new home, like him dominating me or him tying me up and really letting me have it. He won't do either of those now because he needs me to be able to scream without alerting the neighbors. But those are thing that will not happen right away.
One day when we were talking about how my pussy has changed he joked about not having sex for a while to see if that made a difference. Of course when he says this we both end up laughing, there's no way we could just withhold sex for months... but what about weeks? I don't remember how the conversation went, but someone suggested not having sex until we were officially moved into the house, and the other agreed.
What we didn't consider was that moving day was 23 days away.
As of this post, we are on day 12. Twelve days without penis-in-vagina sex.
It's not a dry spell, as we are both horny and wanton. In fact, we are even more horny as a result. We are indulging in everything else. The past twelve days have included anal sex, handjobs, toys, and tons of oral.
In a way, our sex life has never been so hot.
We've never been so on fire for each other. When I get home from work we are immediately in the bedroom making out and sucking on each other. And then at bedtime we want more.
I've noticed a few things from this. First, he's become more generous in wanting me to not have just an orgasm or two, but 5, 8, 10, or more. He may give me a few, and when I'm doing satisfying him he wants to give more. And then I give more back.
We are more desperate to be with each other. We can't stand to be apart while I'm at work. During our couch cuddle time in the evening we are now naked and he is laying on my body, feeling me up a bit before bedtime.
We are fighting more. I think our passion for each other is closer to the surface, but that means it's easier to trigger some stupid argument. We fight passionately over stupid stuff, then all of a sudden it dissipates and we end up just holding each other.
So, is it worth it? So far, I think so. Call it an experiment in sex. An experiment in our relationship. Since we've been together, we've only abstained from PIV sex for three days. And it was a very long three days. When it ended, we had three very hot, explosive rounds of sex in a hotel room. I can only imagine that, if three days resulted in that kind of reaction, what would three weeks do?
So we're looking forward to the date with a LOT of anticipation. It will be an awesome, amazing night. And in the meantime, we are rediscovering and just enjoying all the ways we give handjobs, oral sex, cuddling, and masturbation. Oh, lots of masturbation.
So here we are, on fire for each other, denying ourselves for a purpose. It's hot, driving us wild, and we are loving and hating every moment of it.
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