Kink in exile

Notes from a kinky nomad

In short, go with the flow and be a picky bitch :)

I am still buzzing from the past weekend.  Starting to come down to earth but also overwhelmed by reality and wanting to hide in a cocoon of NRE where distance, complications, and time pressures don’t exists and where past hurts turn into a catalyst for bonding rather than seeds of distrust.  (Trauma begets trauma except where it begets trust?) But as I come back down to earth I am also evaluating my reality, thinking about the sex I have, want, and have had and thinking about what got me here.  When my weekend partner in crime commented that they didn’t start having really good sex until their mid-20s I was surprised only that they thought this was somehow abnormal…

Saying “no” to the sex I don’t want:

This isn’t about no means no, and this isn’t about rape.  This is about knowing myself, my body, and my lifestyle well enough to distinguish between the sex I want and the sex I don’t want.  This isn’t a skill I’ve always had, and when I first developed it, it wasn’t a skill I used easily.  I spent my late teens and early 20s having the sex I thought I should have, or the sex I didn’t mind having and it was fine.  It was a learning process.  Sometimes the sex was really good, sometimes it was just a thing, and a couple of times I wished I hadn’t done that.  All of those times taught me about myself, and at some point I learned enough to know that I can turn down sex I don’t want and this is part of the process that leads to those singular amazing moments when I get precisely the sex I want (and if I’m very lucky, I get the sex I didn’t know I wanted).

Trusting myself:

I’m in bed with a lover trying to get a point across which I don’t actually want to get across…”I feel…demure, girly…um…” My rational brain kicks in, my inner Ask Culture Israeli can’t take it anymore, “the word I’m looking for is ‘submissive’ I just don’t want to say it.”  Giving myself space for the sex I want is a work in progress.  Trusting the fact that my sexuality is fluid but always mine is a work in progress.  So while it’s a little strange that I woke up this morning wanting to be in a relationship with a woman despite the fact that I am about 90% heterosexual and prefer my sexual relationships with women to be in casual contexts (say 3-somes with a couple), I’m just not that worried about it.  (For me, it’s probably a passing curiosity more than a radical paradigm shift, but my sex drive has U-turned on me often enough that I’ve learned to just go with the flow.)

Seeing my fear and my anger for what it really is:

I don’t get scared for the hell of it, so the fact that coming down from the weekend’s buzz is scaring the fuck out of me is valuable information.  In this case, it throws me into tailspin of how do I feel about poly that’s been in the making for years.  That said, I trust my experience.  Being poly scares me, but I do it because it also feels healthy, fulfilling, and empowering to me.  If being poly wasn’t what I really wanted, I’d probably be settled down with C by now planning our first child.  My fear is a place to check in with myself and a place to take note of the fact that “wow, I am really into this amazing thing that I had the privilege of experiencing and I don’t want to lose it.”  It’s an early warning system that what I want, what I have, and what I think I have may not align and I need to correct for that but it is not foreshadowing of death and destruction.

 

Written by kinkinexile

May 11, 2012 at 4:32 pm

Posted in headspace, personal

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