This isn't my entry.
This is my meta entry.
It might be bitter.
It might be triggering.
It's totally not PG or below. face it, it's sex.
It's free association, the stuff that usually rolls around in my head before I sit down to type in time for the deadline. It helps me think, but it can be a raw place to share.
Hey, I've got a great idea! Let's take the most intimate, soul-touching ability built into us, and use it. Really, really wring out of it all the possible good, turn it into a utility. Hot and Cold Running Hormones - it has a ring to it. No wait -- running Hot and Cold is a bad thing right? Frustrates self, partner?
Sexual Healing. So, is that other parts of the body with a really great sexual release? Cause, ohmigosh that totally works. The blasting rush of is-it-adrenaline? that plows through nerve bundles clears out the cobwebs energizes and lazes at the same time. Heck, really great sex sounds a lot like who people have described Nicotine to me. So, do they smoke after sex to continue the rush, or cause they didn't get it?
For me, I need a heaping gob of healing for my sexuality. Been there and there and there, and done way too much. I sit in a circle of women, listening to the common plaints about how the heck are we supposed to initiate sexy time when we just don't feel like having it? Wanting to scream. Oh, I want sex so bad sometimes I can taste it.
But I want it to be with Flar. I want it to be all that it can be - the fireworks heights of sensory delights. I want the closeness it brings I want the happy contented tiredness I want the embarrassing wetness. OOh, for the totally smug feeling of the embarrassing wetness oozing out gushing out still ohmigod pumping out.
The mat. No Stones. It's about sexual healing, healing the part of us that gets it all wrong wrong wrong. Learning about sex and all the wrong ways we're doing it, but not nearly enough about why God invented it in the first place, how vital and amazing it is to be able to share This Way with each other.
Co-dependency, fantasy addiction, even sexual anorexia -- it's all in there, a big huge umbrella of What Can Go Wrong.
But, how about a marriage, before God, but not under God, made in a church, but we were so unaware of any vows-before-God commitments, only to each other, mutable with time. We promised chastity -- forsaking all others. Threw that out the window before eight years were quite past. Hung on to the idea of love, but did everything to kill love. When it starts being all about me for each of us, it stops being all about you, then drifting can easily turn into plummeting.
He said he'd be in Brazil by now. So have we recently done something very very right or just not quite so wrong?
No Stones taught me to save all the pleasuring for him to do. Months I was able to go without trying; abortive attempts that didn't go anywhere - was I able any more? What possessed me last week, when of all weeks I should have been fixated on his grief his hurt his pain. And it was so easy, and ohmigod with the gushing and the floating and the remembering how it could be. It doesn't dampen my longing for him to be the cause. For even more.
And yet, here I sit a coward. Knowing he said way back in the spring that No, he doesn't actually want it to be the way it is, and yet, I'm terrified of taking the first step. Of the awful possibility of rejection. It's hard enough when he snatches his hand away when mine is cold. It's just the cold, it's not me, it's not me.
How on earth could I expect him to want me when he's lost her?
How can I go on withholding -- not by active rejection but by failure to initiate, to suggest to offer.
He thinks he can't offer what I like. I've liked so very much he didn't understand. But I like what he has to offer. I long for it.
Sexual Healing. Could it be that it could heal?
Oh if only it were as easy as just wanting it when asked. Oh if it were so easy as to know that offers would be delightedly accepted.
Take my hand. Draw circles and blow. See me gush just knowing that I'm wanted. After all, remember how easy I am? Rev 3:11a KJV It's mine, I own it. Hold onto your seat belts. You may get wet on this ride. You may get drenched.