Space and time
I wrote the journal entry bellow a while ago but never got around to completing and posting it. However, my boy is out of the country this week and while I miss him terribly, I have caught up on all the kink blogs I don’t get around to reading when he’s around. I had a crazy ex ages ago who theorized that good porn comes out of not getting laid, and while she was a complete fruitcake when it came to some things, I think she was spot on about that one…
years ago, in an ivory tower in the north east I had a professor who told me that if I have a problem I should write through it, at it even, rather than around it. The problem, I am discovering, is that my boyfriend brings out the crazy in me. Don’t get me wrong, he most assuredly brings joy and love to my life too, but there is no question that our relationship is where all my subconscious beliefs about relationships get to play out. It is almost as if he brought my biological clock, and fairy princess dreams with him. Having rarely, if ever, suffered a bout of “does he like me” in the past, I have discovered a whole new world of “will he still like me tomorrow” insecurities. And having settled comfortably into a ethical but promiscuous existence as the other woman, I found myself confronted by other’s perceptions of me as, I don’t know, taken? Otherwise engaged?
I don’t think I’ve experienced anything quite like it before. I am in an open relationship. With very few exceptions (and I’m talking count ’em on one hand here) my being partnered doesn’t restrict my ability to sleep with new and interesting people, and yet, it does. On-again-off-again flings I’ve had for years stopped returning my calls. People who chat me up in clubs started asking for my professional opinion rather than my list of fetishes and fancies.
I guess the counter culture didn’t prepare me to be normal