Nothing seems to have substance right now. It as if suddenly my blinders have been removed and I am seeing the frivolity of my life and all the players in it thru a lens of new possibility. A possibility that has almost seemed forbidden to me, no that has been forbidden. I am a white woman, born into an upper middle class family with a college degree. I should have gotten married, had 2.2 kids, created a "career" and a good living for myself by now. Instead, my passion and desire is becoming the driving obsession for my life to change.
A force that is beyond my comprehension, that has always been beyond my comprehension, is now putting itself into the driver seat of my life and demanding that I follow it's course. I can't explain it. It makes no rational sense. There isn't any "reason" for it's existance or any real concrete foundation for it to even be real. Yet this force is clearly stepping up and demanding my attention.
There is no more ability for me to resist. I want it to take me. I have become weakened by my own desires and inspired by my passion to gladly and graciously step aside and let it lead me wherever it may. I am not afraid of it, though perhaps I should be. I am intrigued to my core by it's whispers in my ear. I am excited when it pushes itself thru and into my being like the Cuban lover I have recently taken in spite of my resistance, as if it knows me better than I know myself.
The moments now are filled with imagery of what I know is coming. I see the rock in the Caribbean, and can feel the rhythms it pulses out into the sea. I see the swaggering black kings and queens rolling their hips along side streets calling out to each other as they pass by. I hear the drums and the chants to Eleggua, see the sweat pouring down my own face as I dance for the Orisha's. I see my good friend Ishmael's face light up with love as I walk towards him for the first time in two years, our hearts busting at the seams with love and kinship we can't understand any more than I can understand this force moving thru me.
Every breath is for my return now. Every moment this obsession pulls me closer and I more willingly succomb to it's embrace.
Take me home to Cuba. If I get lost there, leave me to those noble beautiful dark skinned angels. I know in their care I will be safe at home at last.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Possible Opening Statement to the Next Book of My Life
There are some things in life that are
inexplicable. Certain burning passions that make no real sense.
It is that mystery which has captivated my heart and may change my life again.
A deep well suppressed calling is screaming now thru my skull, penetrating my heart and soul and intoxicating my very breath with a desire for it's fulfillment. I have left it waiting so long. I have barely spoken to it or allowed it to whisper it's seductions in the deep of night. It is now like a gently awakening creature coming to life as summer fades into the cold.
The dream has been awakened fully in my consciousness now. A dream of disappearing into another place and time, of allowing the dark primal pulses of past lives, pure lust and spiritual yearning to merge in the church of rhythm, spirit and flesh. The dream of leaving modernity's maladies of money seeking, soul sucking monotony and re-entering the temple of trance, ceremony and music.
I am ready for my initiation at last. Let the spirits move me as they will.
It is that mystery which has captivated my heart and may change my life again.
A deep well suppressed calling is screaming now thru my skull, penetrating my heart and soul and intoxicating my very breath with a desire for it's fulfillment. I have left it waiting so long. I have barely spoken to it or allowed it to whisper it's seductions in the deep of night. It is now like a gently awakening creature coming to life as summer fades into the cold.
The dream has been awakened fully in my consciousness now. A dream of disappearing into another place and time, of allowing the dark primal pulses of past lives, pure lust and spiritual yearning to merge in the church of rhythm, spirit and flesh. The dream of leaving modernity's maladies of money seeking, soul sucking monotony and re-entering the temple of trance, ceremony and music.
I am ready for my initiation at last. Let the spirits move me as they will.
Saturday, September 29, 2012
Keeping the beast at bay
Busy-ness keeps the beast at bay. As long as there is a project, a goal, a something to be heading for, a place to direct the flow of energy, a reason to be alive, then the beast stays quiet and just feeds on occassion of the remnants of my past and present.
Space is both the brutal reminder of the depths of the hole in my heart and also the kind gentle friend that allows me to feel my heart's longing and desires. Space feeds the hunger of the beast and makes it roar and rage in discontent in these times of forced solitude.
There is no way out but through, my mantra, my motto, my life's ultimate path. Distractions, dance, work, projects are all lovely time passers, but at the end of the day, when space is really present and I am alone again with myself, the reality is still as it is. I am alone in this world. Perhaps even more accurately, I am a loner in this world.
I want to fill the space, sometimes so bad I let men in who have no business being near me. Tonight I'd take a lover in a moment just to quench the call of my desire, to feel flesh on flesh for a few moments, to hear soft breath in my ear whispering passion and riding waves of ecstasy. It's almost tempting to call an old lover, but experience reminds me that it will only be the same disappointment and the same journey but deeper in dysfunction and hurt if another round ensued.
The sunset is divine though, and the red wine swirling thru my mouth tastes of rasperry's and rich tannins. I am hungry for a lover, hungry for touch, hungry for the intimacy that always seems to be fleeting and temporary.
Tonight the beast is prowling thru the cave of my heart and wreaking havoc once again on my self esteem. Is there something wrong with me? Why do I scare men so much? What is it that keeps me from letting down my guard to let in someone who can really take care of me and who will appreciate the care I offer back? Why do I attract such shit for men? When will Mr. Right show up and remind me that something better is possible?
The sun is setting.. and here I am.. a glass of wine, and a heart hurting but somehow surrendered to the reality of what just is.
Space is both the brutal reminder of the depths of the hole in my heart and also the kind gentle friend that allows me to feel my heart's longing and desires. Space feeds the hunger of the beast and makes it roar and rage in discontent in these times of forced solitude.
There is no way out but through, my mantra, my motto, my life's ultimate path. Distractions, dance, work, projects are all lovely time passers, but at the end of the day, when space is really present and I am alone again with myself, the reality is still as it is. I am alone in this world. Perhaps even more accurately, I am a loner in this world.
I want to fill the space, sometimes so bad I let men in who have no business being near me. Tonight I'd take a lover in a moment just to quench the call of my desire, to feel flesh on flesh for a few moments, to hear soft breath in my ear whispering passion and riding waves of ecstasy. It's almost tempting to call an old lover, but experience reminds me that it will only be the same disappointment and the same journey but deeper in dysfunction and hurt if another round ensued.
The sunset is divine though, and the red wine swirling thru my mouth tastes of rasperry's and rich tannins. I am hungry for a lover, hungry for touch, hungry for the intimacy that always seems to be fleeting and temporary.
Tonight the beast is prowling thru the cave of my heart and wreaking havoc once again on my self esteem. Is there something wrong with me? Why do I scare men so much? What is it that keeps me from letting down my guard to let in someone who can really take care of me and who will appreciate the care I offer back? Why do I attract such shit for men? When will Mr. Right show up and remind me that something better is possible?
The sun is setting.. and here I am.. a glass of wine, and a heart hurting but somehow surrendered to the reality of what just is.
Wednesday, July 25, 2012
The Game
Anticipation courses through me and I wonder if I will see him tonight. I'm at the salsa club where we met just over a week ago. It feels like months. I want to see him and feel him again with every bone in my body. This is a game I want to win, but I don't think I can or will. Looking in the mirror I appreciate the reflection I see. I have no reason to cry over this man, I am a beautiful woman and I know all the men in there will be excited to dance with me tonight. There is only one I want to dance with and I'd take him all night over all of the others swirling in and out, and I know too that even if he's here, it's likely we won't even talk or dance.
The music grabs me and then my first dance of the night walks by takes my hand and leads me to the floor. I can't deny it's one of the sexiest parts of salsa for me. The men who don't even ask, they just grab the woman they want and assume submission. Usually those are the better dancers. They know they will plesae, they recognize a good and anxious dancer in a woman and they don't need any more permission than her willingness to be there tapping her feet and looking around waiting. It's hot. It's just plain hot.
The dancing is good tonite. It's Saturday and the best dancers in town are here in force. Many of them I recognize from other dances, and many have held me swirling in my ecstasy and feel to me like lovers in a very pure and sweet way in my heart.
One turn and I see him. Dressed again in white, looking so fine. My heart stops, and a smile comes to my lips. My next dance I move closer to the edge where is he is dancing with an older woman. Curiosity runs through me, is he with her? Geez, that would be an oddity. She is not very attractive, square bodied and she looks a good decade older than him. I feel a tinge of jealousy and sadness come over me, then a determination for success when I see he has seen me and is watching me.
I twirl and spin and grind and dance as sensually as I always do in front of him. I know he sees me, and that it's working on him in some way I can't really understand or know. In a break, I go up and say hello and hug him. He is friendly, happy to see me and joyful, but he won't meet me in the dance. This is my biggest disappointment for the night. I walk away pretending to not care but I am sad.
The rest of the night has tinges of disappointment, especially when I see that he will dance with other women. My heart hurts a little, but I am determined to not be too concerned. I step right in front of him and don't even acknowledge him when I walk out of the club, and I walk with confidence away from him, knowing he is watching my back as I walk away.
The whole drive home I'm thinking about what an idiot he is to not take an opportunity to be with a woman like ME. What an ass. What a totally disrespectful, ignorant stupid man. How could any man not see and appreciate a woman with as much sensual yumminess as I have? Every other man there wants me, can't wait to dance with me and would jump at a chance to even get my phone number. Every day he waits to call is another day I'm setting my will against him. He thinks he's making me want him more, the truth is he's just showing me what I don't want. I giggle in delight over that reality as the phone rings at 2 am.
"Hello" says a sexy sensual voice I know is his. "Who's this?" I say innocently pretending to not know. "Oh, you. Well hello." Putting on my sexiest sweetest voice and vibe, I let him talk to me a little bit. Short and sweet, but he called so he's thinking about me and so I know something I did tonite worked. He doesn't stay with me long though, and says he'll call me back. I am tired, and turn off the phone and go to bed rather than waiting for a call I'm pretty sure won't come anyway.
The music grabs me and then my first dance of the night walks by takes my hand and leads me to the floor. I can't deny it's one of the sexiest parts of salsa for me. The men who don't even ask, they just grab the woman they want and assume submission. Usually those are the better dancers. They know they will plesae, they recognize a good and anxious dancer in a woman and they don't need any more permission than her willingness to be there tapping her feet and looking around waiting. It's hot. It's just plain hot.
The dancing is good tonite. It's Saturday and the best dancers in town are here in force. Many of them I recognize from other dances, and many have held me swirling in my ecstasy and feel to me like lovers in a very pure and sweet way in my heart.
One turn and I see him. Dressed again in white, looking so fine. My heart stops, and a smile comes to my lips. My next dance I move closer to the edge where is he is dancing with an older woman. Curiosity runs through me, is he with her? Geez, that would be an oddity. She is not very attractive, square bodied and she looks a good decade older than him. I feel a tinge of jealousy and sadness come over me, then a determination for success when I see he has seen me and is watching me.
I twirl and spin and grind and dance as sensually as I always do in front of him. I know he sees me, and that it's working on him in some way I can't really understand or know. In a break, I go up and say hello and hug him. He is friendly, happy to see me and joyful, but he won't meet me in the dance. This is my biggest disappointment for the night. I walk away pretending to not care but I am sad.
The rest of the night has tinges of disappointment, especially when I see that he will dance with other women. My heart hurts a little, but I am determined to not be too concerned. I step right in front of him and don't even acknowledge him when I walk out of the club, and I walk with confidence away from him, knowing he is watching my back as I walk away.
The whole drive home I'm thinking about what an idiot he is to not take an opportunity to be with a woman like ME. What an ass. What a totally disrespectful, ignorant stupid man. How could any man not see and appreciate a woman with as much sensual yumminess as I have? Every other man there wants me, can't wait to dance with me and would jump at a chance to even get my phone number. Every day he waits to call is another day I'm setting my will against him. He thinks he's making me want him more, the truth is he's just showing me what I don't want. I giggle in delight over that reality as the phone rings at 2 am.
"Hello" says a sexy sensual voice I know is his. "Who's this?" I say innocently pretending to not know. "Oh, you. Well hello." Putting on my sexiest sweetest voice and vibe, I let him talk to me a little bit. Short and sweet, but he called so he's thinking about me and so I know something I did tonite worked. He doesn't stay with me long though, and says he'll call me back. I am tired, and turn off the phone and go to bed rather than waiting for a call I'm pretty sure won't come anyway.
Monday, July 16, 2012
The Cuban
I see him in mid twirl and I know instantly I am in trouble. His body moves sweetly, too sweetly. His steps are undeniably Cuban and I am undeniably drawn. My partner turns me and moves me skillfully thru a combination of turns and steps and I am blissed out, as always, on the dance floor. Salsa has become my reason to live. It is the time and place that I feel most alive, most vibrant, most passionately connected to life and my truest essence. It is also the time and place that I am apparently the most vulnerable to men.
A man who can dance well is enough to swoon me a little, but a man who can dance really well and who is physically attractive to me is just undeniable trouble for me and seems to be practically irresistible. This one was irresistible on all counts. I watched him for a dance and fell in love before I even made it to his arms. Soft hips, perfect feet moving in that way that only Cubans dance, light chocolate skin, just barely brown but so soft and sweet my hands itched to touch it. Suave, and knowing just how to move a woman to make her look good while he was stylin himself so sweetly around her. "Dammit," was the only word that could come to my lips. I knew I had to have him, atleast once.
A few dances later, he found me and asked me to dance. Joyfully we met in the groove, laughing, flirting heavily and dancing as if we'd danced together for years. Made to be lovers. Undoubtedly the chemistry was delightful and I should have left him right there on the dance floor, walked away, said, "Thanks but no thanks," but I didn't. I like that edge. I apparently like to flirt with danger, and so after a few more dances throughout the nite, he went home with my phone number in his phone and before I even got home there were messages.
The next night we met again, perfectly choreographed between three other men who are in hot pursuit that were probably a lot more deserving and would probably be much better to me. I spent the evening exploring the options in the dance, dancing in turn with the best dancers there, letting myself surrender to the magic of man adoring and cherishing woman in the dance. I let them pull me close and hold me tight and tonite I didn't resist any of that intimacy. I am strong, my feet move perfectly and I feel grace and total control with all of them.
Except him. When I dance with him, I get nearly clumsy. I feel intoxicated by his smell and the way that i feel when he pulls me close. I want to claw and rip and grab at him. It's animalistic. My body burns with desire. He speaks to me in my ear in moments when he must feel me getting weak: "Are you OK?" I laugh and say yes but we both know I am weakened by his magnetism on me. I am in trouble with this one. He is so naughty, bad boy just emanates from his pores and I drink it in big gulps loving the anticipation of the knowingness that we both have.
I have options of really good men who would be kind and available to me, who would treat me with tenderness and respect. I choose him, hands down. He's the sexiest, the hottest and will most likely be the cruelest to me and my tender heart. We make an agreement before we leave the dance that night that no matter what, we won't let it affect the dance. No matter what, we will be friends and not stop dancing together. I know I can't resist him, I know he is coming to my bed with me, and he knows it too.
We dance a last dance, and I can't wait any longer. It's time to kiss this man, and find out what else is there beyond the dance. We leave and he walks me to my car and gets in it and kisses me. It's not the most incredible kiss I've ever had, but the passion in it is enough in my already heightened state of arousal from the dance and the story I've created in my mind about how hot this one is, this Cuban God. He follows me home, and sitting on my porch beneath the moon, the intoxication continues. I am just a little high from smoking some ganga but not so high that I have no resistance. His fingers on my nipples, then his lips melt away what little resistance I had and I bring him to my bed, knowing I am setting myself up for failure.
In my room, he asks me if he can take his pants off and if he should take his shirt off. I look at him and grab the bottom of his white t-shirt and pull it up revealing the most incredibly perfect torso and say, "Um, yeah, let's take that off. That's so nice." He is a tae kwan do teacher and master. His body is incredible, I'm screwed and I know it. Damn. I should have left this one at the bar. I am now praying maybe I can keep him under control and also hoping I can keep myself under control.
Not a chance. Instantly, his passion rages through me and consumes me. I could say no, but I'm not even sure he would hear it. I don't want to say no. I should say no, I know that I am heading into yet another disappointment and heartbreak. I actually like the guy already. Just from the dance I have fallen in love with his personality. I try to say no, I try to push his hands from exploring me too quickly, but I am naked in no time, his lips and face buried in my Yoni, sucking and slurping me up. He speaks to me half in spanish, half in english, and has me speaking back the same. I am so turned on I am like a gushing stream and he is wide eyed and loving every minute of me.
His big chocolate eyes are child like, innocent in their naughtiness and we are laughing and enjoying each other fully. He thrusts his fingers into every place he can and brings me to climax with intensity 3 times, and is relentlessly moving towards the fourth. The orgasms are a mix of pain and pleasure. He slaps my ass and it excites me. There is nothing very gentle or tender with this one. It is raw, primal, intensely passionate and incredibly mind altering. I am high on him, riding with him matching his intensity and doing eveything I can to push him farther into it. He is so hard. I haven't been with a man with a rock hard staff like this one in years. I am almost scared but too turned on to care anymore and I let him enter me and pull him in as deep as I can.
He is so incredibly sexy. The joy and bliss on his face are so welcomed and I want only to bring more to him. For a moment I get the awareness that he will not respect me tomorrow, but I give it up and surrender to the moment and fuck him harder. Together we release into stillness and sleep.
He wakes me in the morning with strong caresses and even though I am sore from the night before, I want him again. The door has been opened, he knows I can not close it now. He pulls me to the edge of the bed and we make love in front of the mirror. Our bodies are incredibly beautiful together. Two very fine nearly 40 year old specimens. He keeps saying how hot I am and I can not deny I feel the same. His body is the perfect body for me. Strong, tall, fit, brown, Cuban, and it looks so good pumping into me that I am laughing with him blissfully.
Then he leaves. My heart sinks a bit. I know that might be it and I am pissed at myself for letting that go so fast that I probably have no chance now of being anything more than just another notch on the belt. Part of me doesn't care. I wanted him, he knew it, he wanted me. We wasted no time. We were real and true with what we felt. It was sex, primal and passionately delightful with no strings attached. Maybe I want a string or two.
The next day my African lover comes to see me. I feel crazed by it all, but I blew him off the previous night to settle a score with him and because the Cuban had come to see me. He just wants to touch me, and I am grateful. He is so appreciative and gentle with my body. He truly loves woman and is so enamored with my form. It feels so completely different and so completely needed to cool the insanity of the night before somehow. He spends an hour just caressing my legs and ass with soft gentle strokes. This is the way I really love to be loved, so sweet, so gentle, so nurturing. He is totally OK without entering me and leaves me satisfied, nurtured and feeling so tenderly appreciated.
Now my work is to stay neutral, to not freak out, to not trip on the Cuban. I don't do so well, I send him a few texts that are just enough on the snippy side to probably turn him off, but it gets a response and he calls me to tell me he is my friend and he's not going anywhere. He also tells me that it scared him to get those texts. We can see each other sometimes, we are both adults and we shared something sweet that we both wanted and we need to act like adults about it. He is right and I know he is, but when I see him dancing that night I want only him. I snagged him at the door for his first dance of the night, but I could tell his energy was elsewhere and my heart sunk. I let him go and affirm that I will not go to him, that I will let him come to me, that I will leave without saying a word to him and that I will not let this man play his game with my heart at stake. Strike one, he's out.
I dance with everyone else but him all night, purposefully avoiding him, watching him watch me when I'm dancing and stealthily watching him through my hair. I can't show weakness. I can't show my true feelings, he will run. I have to play this so cool. I dance as sassy and sensually as I can with as many men as I can as close to my Cuban lover as possible. I want to make him want me like he's never wanted a woman, and now I am unavailable to him anywhere but perhaps a dance or two here. My mind is set on finding some way in to his shell beyond sex, yet I can't wait to take him to my bed again and ride the primal pulse of desire with him into the dawn.
I want only him.
A man who can dance well is enough to swoon me a little, but a man who can dance really well and who is physically attractive to me is just undeniable trouble for me and seems to be practically irresistible. This one was irresistible on all counts. I watched him for a dance and fell in love before I even made it to his arms. Soft hips, perfect feet moving in that way that only Cubans dance, light chocolate skin, just barely brown but so soft and sweet my hands itched to touch it. Suave, and knowing just how to move a woman to make her look good while he was stylin himself so sweetly around her. "Dammit," was the only word that could come to my lips. I knew I had to have him, atleast once.
A few dances later, he found me and asked me to dance. Joyfully we met in the groove, laughing, flirting heavily and dancing as if we'd danced together for years. Made to be lovers. Undoubtedly the chemistry was delightful and I should have left him right there on the dance floor, walked away, said, "Thanks but no thanks," but I didn't. I like that edge. I apparently like to flirt with danger, and so after a few more dances throughout the nite, he went home with my phone number in his phone and before I even got home there were messages.
The next night we met again, perfectly choreographed between three other men who are in hot pursuit that were probably a lot more deserving and would probably be much better to me. I spent the evening exploring the options in the dance, dancing in turn with the best dancers there, letting myself surrender to the magic of man adoring and cherishing woman in the dance. I let them pull me close and hold me tight and tonite I didn't resist any of that intimacy. I am strong, my feet move perfectly and I feel grace and total control with all of them.
Except him. When I dance with him, I get nearly clumsy. I feel intoxicated by his smell and the way that i feel when he pulls me close. I want to claw and rip and grab at him. It's animalistic. My body burns with desire. He speaks to me in my ear in moments when he must feel me getting weak: "Are you OK?" I laugh and say yes but we both know I am weakened by his magnetism on me. I am in trouble with this one. He is so naughty, bad boy just emanates from his pores and I drink it in big gulps loving the anticipation of the knowingness that we both have.
I have options of really good men who would be kind and available to me, who would treat me with tenderness and respect. I choose him, hands down. He's the sexiest, the hottest and will most likely be the cruelest to me and my tender heart. We make an agreement before we leave the dance that night that no matter what, we won't let it affect the dance. No matter what, we will be friends and not stop dancing together. I know I can't resist him, I know he is coming to my bed with me, and he knows it too.
We dance a last dance, and I can't wait any longer. It's time to kiss this man, and find out what else is there beyond the dance. We leave and he walks me to my car and gets in it and kisses me. It's not the most incredible kiss I've ever had, but the passion in it is enough in my already heightened state of arousal from the dance and the story I've created in my mind about how hot this one is, this Cuban God. He follows me home, and sitting on my porch beneath the moon, the intoxication continues. I am just a little high from smoking some ganga but not so high that I have no resistance. His fingers on my nipples, then his lips melt away what little resistance I had and I bring him to my bed, knowing I am setting myself up for failure.
In my room, he asks me if he can take his pants off and if he should take his shirt off. I look at him and grab the bottom of his white t-shirt and pull it up revealing the most incredibly perfect torso and say, "Um, yeah, let's take that off. That's so nice." He is a tae kwan do teacher and master. His body is incredible, I'm screwed and I know it. Damn. I should have left this one at the bar. I am now praying maybe I can keep him under control and also hoping I can keep myself under control.
Not a chance. Instantly, his passion rages through me and consumes me. I could say no, but I'm not even sure he would hear it. I don't want to say no. I should say no, I know that I am heading into yet another disappointment and heartbreak. I actually like the guy already. Just from the dance I have fallen in love with his personality. I try to say no, I try to push his hands from exploring me too quickly, but I am naked in no time, his lips and face buried in my Yoni, sucking and slurping me up. He speaks to me half in spanish, half in english, and has me speaking back the same. I am so turned on I am like a gushing stream and he is wide eyed and loving every minute of me.
His big chocolate eyes are child like, innocent in their naughtiness and we are laughing and enjoying each other fully. He thrusts his fingers into every place he can and brings me to climax with intensity 3 times, and is relentlessly moving towards the fourth. The orgasms are a mix of pain and pleasure. He slaps my ass and it excites me. There is nothing very gentle or tender with this one. It is raw, primal, intensely passionate and incredibly mind altering. I am high on him, riding with him matching his intensity and doing eveything I can to push him farther into it. He is so hard. I haven't been with a man with a rock hard staff like this one in years. I am almost scared but too turned on to care anymore and I let him enter me and pull him in as deep as I can.
He is so incredibly sexy. The joy and bliss on his face are so welcomed and I want only to bring more to him. For a moment I get the awareness that he will not respect me tomorrow, but I give it up and surrender to the moment and fuck him harder. Together we release into stillness and sleep.
He wakes me in the morning with strong caresses and even though I am sore from the night before, I want him again. The door has been opened, he knows I can not close it now. He pulls me to the edge of the bed and we make love in front of the mirror. Our bodies are incredibly beautiful together. Two very fine nearly 40 year old specimens. He keeps saying how hot I am and I can not deny I feel the same. His body is the perfect body for me. Strong, tall, fit, brown, Cuban, and it looks so good pumping into me that I am laughing with him blissfully.
Then he leaves. My heart sinks a bit. I know that might be it and I am pissed at myself for letting that go so fast that I probably have no chance now of being anything more than just another notch on the belt. Part of me doesn't care. I wanted him, he knew it, he wanted me. We wasted no time. We were real and true with what we felt. It was sex, primal and passionately delightful with no strings attached. Maybe I want a string or two.
The next day my African lover comes to see me. I feel crazed by it all, but I blew him off the previous night to settle a score with him and because the Cuban had come to see me. He just wants to touch me, and I am grateful. He is so appreciative and gentle with my body. He truly loves woman and is so enamored with my form. It feels so completely different and so completely needed to cool the insanity of the night before somehow. He spends an hour just caressing my legs and ass with soft gentle strokes. This is the way I really love to be loved, so sweet, so gentle, so nurturing. He is totally OK without entering me and leaves me satisfied, nurtured and feeling so tenderly appreciated.
Now my work is to stay neutral, to not freak out, to not trip on the Cuban. I don't do so well, I send him a few texts that are just enough on the snippy side to probably turn him off, but it gets a response and he calls me to tell me he is my friend and he's not going anywhere. He also tells me that it scared him to get those texts. We can see each other sometimes, we are both adults and we shared something sweet that we both wanted and we need to act like adults about it. He is right and I know he is, but when I see him dancing that night I want only him. I snagged him at the door for his first dance of the night, but I could tell his energy was elsewhere and my heart sunk. I let him go and affirm that I will not go to him, that I will let him come to me, that I will leave without saying a word to him and that I will not let this man play his game with my heart at stake. Strike one, he's out.
I dance with everyone else but him all night, purposefully avoiding him, watching him watch me when I'm dancing and stealthily watching him through my hair. I can't show weakness. I can't show my true feelings, he will run. I have to play this so cool. I dance as sassy and sensually as I can with as many men as I can as close to my Cuban lover as possible. I want to make him want me like he's never wanted a woman, and now I am unavailable to him anywhere but perhaps a dance or two here. My mind is set on finding some way in to his shell beyond sex, yet I can't wait to take him to my bed again and ride the primal pulse of desire with him into the dawn.
I want only him.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
Begin Again
What's most important is that I start writing again. Every day, twice a day. There needs to be some conversation from myself to myself and writing is one of the best ways I can have that conversation.
I've gotten lost again. I was standing in the brilliance of myself 8 months ago. Flying high on wings of self reliance and self love. I was, I thought, over the hump. I had left self sabotage and doubt behind. I had conquered the fear of solitude, lonlieness and I was the master of my reality.
And then I fell into the arms of yet another man child. A man so incredibly physically alluring to me that I put all of my wisdom and intelligence on the line. He drew me in with sweetness and his constant availability. He took care of me when I had surgery, creating a bond that made me feel cherished for just long enough for me to get sucked in. He worked through every situation with me, stayed with me through all my reactions and hurts, and there were plenty of hurts that surfaced quickly with him. He verbally abused me when I didn't act or speak in the "right" ways. He let me know first and foremost that he wasn't "that" into me to be only with me and that he wasn't willing to give up other women. There were lots of other women. Women he was sex texting, women online, porn, women I walked in and saw him making out with on the same night that we were on a date, a woman he started sleeping with as soon as I left the state to go travel.
I could see the pattern repeating and it triggered all my old trauma from my past. It was an 8 month "open" relationship that relived my 8 years with my ex on a much more intense level. I was the one who wanted it open at first, because the sexual addiction, both his and mine, have been so clear. The abuse was so clear. The willingness I had to "deal" and "endure" was so clear. My hurts and my feelings of betrayal were so clear. My "settling" for something so much less than what I really want is so clear. I dated other guys the whole time, but barely. I let my heart become his. Now I am left with the work of detaching and giving my heart back to myself.
A few things have been different: he has been honest for the most part about his own not wanting to commit and I have respected that. He has worked through his anger and abusive tendencies once I put my foot down. I hit a place where I really realized how much he was like my father, throwing anger around like it was OK and I drew a line. I told him if he wanted me in his life as any kind of friend or connection that it had to stop and never happen again. Since then everything changed. He left his lover he picked up while I was travelling to come back to me, and we took another short round, just like my ex and I. This time, however, I was the one who said, "I'm done now" after he expressed to me that he didn't value me enough to commit to me sexually. I realized how much this pattern has affected my self esteem and I said, "Thank you, but no thank you. I've had enough."
That was just a week and a half ago. We still communicate most days. He truly has become an incredible friend and while I know there has been much unhealthy in the dynamic, something about the way we are transitioning is healing for me. I don't want to lose another friend because I can't accept that I'm not "the one" for him. I don't want to hate someone because I'm not "the one" for him, nor do I want to be angry at him for not being "the one" for me. I knew from the first date with him that he wasn't a good choice for me. I allowed it because I was lonely, he was so sexy and I just wanted some love and companionship.
Now the work is to return again to the altar of my heart and desires. To return again to self. To take solace in my solitude rather than wanting to fill it up and waste time and energy on a man who can not give me what I want so deeply.
The journey back to self seems to be a continuous cycle. Now I am summoning soul.
Wednesday, June 6, 2012
Unfinished Business
Here I am again, running stories and regrets through my mind. Plagued and disturbed by my own inadequacies and lack of ability to let go of something that isn't good for me. Thinking that if I can just love enough, be open enough, give enough, try hard enough, accept enough responsibility that I can get the love I seem to need so badly from someone who doesn't even know how to love himself.
I guess it's unfinished business. When I met Tomas I was desperate for some where to direct my love. My body wanted sex and comfort so badly that I really thought I could have a meaningless fling and not get attached. I knew the first night we hung out that he was toxic, but I didn't think he'd stick around long enough for it to become what it has. I was getting through things and starting to really shine and love myself again, and I gave that all up somehow in trade for Tomas somehow.
I never thought Tomas and I would still be hanging out 8 months later, but I seem to have a really hard time letting go. I care about him, want to help him, and more than anything there's some incredibly strong cord, attachment, yes I will say, "need" to be with him that hurts the same way it did with Jessee when I tried to disconnect.
I know it's partially that I never got fully OK with myself, though I was well on my way when I met Tomas. I thought maybe I was ready for a relationship even, and perhaps I was for a healthy one, but instead I got sucked into something that has been much more unhealthy than Jessee ever was in the worst of moments.
Now, I'm attached and the sickness in me has clung to him as it's lifeline. He's a million degrees sicker than Jessee was around sexual addiction. He's aggressive and hurtful often and somehow that lost, scared little girl in me has fallen in love with him, and keeps trying to please him and do the right thing to try to hold onto something that really offers me nothing but sometimes some sexual pleasure and release and occassionally some enjoyable companionship. Most of the time, he's impossible and not that fun. He's unhappy, grumpy and easily irritated and rarely can be part of any other aspect of my life except sleeping together.
The question I keep asking myself over and over is what is it that draws me to men with such serious sexual addiction and emotional unavailability? It's not what I want, yet I fall so hard for it and try so hard to make myself loved and accepted by men who don't even love themselves and who are so in denial of their sickness that they can't be present to it's impacts.
Here I go again. Another round. I want it to be the last. I want to learn to attach to healthy relationships and functional available men. I don't know how, but I want to learn. I can't go through another round like this ever again.
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