An amazing night, last, pushing through to the early morn, clothed from the waist down. Retelling the escapades to a friend, I realize I’m on the other side; a shift has occurred. A freedom of self, out of my own way; without my self complication and sabotage… again, in reality… only a week of face time. 9 days of knowing someone and allowing the walls to be mostly obsolete, barely-exsistant. A sense of confidence in self and an understanding at the guttural level, if I get out of my own way… even saying that, typing that, it feels like an “old pattern”? A way of shutting down and shielding the vulnerability I fear for this will be just another of the same old.
There is no filter with him. No subject taboo. Our dirty talk “yes, ands” the other allowing a freedom to exist that has been my hidden “goal” for life. Talking about the reasons WHY chivalry is important, not just because it makes me feel “taken care of”, like a “lady”, or in his word “cherished” but also for the modeled behavior for my future children.
A little boy learns how to treat a little girl by the way he sees his father relate to his mother and a little girl sees how she wants to be treated by a man also by the way she sees her father treat her mother and that same little girl realizes how she wants to be treated by the way her mother treats herself and that’s modeled behavior. We either learn what to or not to do by the patterns, behaviors of what is modeled. We have choices and it’s one reason why my womb has remained empty intentionally all these years because I have not until now, realized how I want to be treated and BELIEVE that I am worthy of it. It’s one thing to say “I deserve to be treated a certain way” and it’s another to actually believe my own worth. To be witnessed by, cherished, heard as the vulnerability walls cease. Because to have them comedown means that they were put up in the first place and with Computer-guy, I haven’t felt the safety bubble.
We talked about milking stations at the county fair where there would be a line of children set up to suckle from the life milk. And then the mothers would suckle from each other building there supply and children would stand in line to feast from the bosom of women everywhere, like a kissing booth and people would pay money, a dollar a suckle and depending on the age of the woman or quality of the breast the price would increase or decrease and they would stick their mammaries through a hole so there was no prejudice and the women could be attached to a machine that could freeze some so you could buy a bottle and take it through the fair with you or on the road. I mean, really? that’s crazy! and the fact that each “yes, and” was done while I was mounted atop of him in the front seat of his car, parked outside my dad’s house like a couple of teenagers trying to keep from getting caught… was thrilling. Inhibitions released, fantasy experienced. The ability to freely express the madness is amazing; a non-judegment of banter and creativity as perverted and twisted as we allow without the restrictions of self censoring or the fears of judgements from another. Now, I’m not saying there are no boundaries but to communicate them without fear is one of the greatest gifts I may allow myself at this moment. Support is essential in the ability to grow with another. This has been his fantasy since he was little…the milking station. He’s excited about my breasts and quite frankly.. i would be too, they’re pretty amazing!!
“I will make sure that you will not have to ask again! That’s my gift of cherishing”. I will not do anything I do not want to do but from what I know of you so far, I can’t see that your requests are or would be unreasonable and they are my ability to know you better. Everyday to see you for the beautifl woman you are. Your kindness… I mean you don’t understand and I hope one day you will, but the compulation of the day we spent, without aires; that you took me to this secret place outside the city that few people know of and the details in which you knew about which side to stand on to see the colors of the butterfly’s wings as they opened in the sun as we sat on a log; and the way you got angry with the man who who crossed the line, endangering, in your mind the placidness of the environment. I mean, I was feeling it too and wanted to step in an say something when I saw how angry you were getting,
“not angry, more frustrated”
“no not that aggrivated, aggitated maybe, at the entitlement he decided he had that his desire to get a better view was more important than the butterflies he trampled on.. OK angry!This is a sanctuary for me and too witness, I mean you didn’t see him cross the rope line with his big grin on his stupid face. Did you see him when we were on the other side? “no” Well, he was on the other side when we walked around and then we wondered out of the trees, winding around the grass to the other side and I saw him! Heard his kids speaking to him in English so he couldn’t use the excuse that he didn’t understand the rules or the language because he’s Asian… AHHHrrggggg… OK, yes angry!! (him seeing me riling up, smiling)
“just to calm you down, to hold you because someone DID scream at him to get back”,
Yes, but it took so long and he had no idea how many he could’ve hurt or killed and if he DID know instead of being oblivious and self indulgent, I’m sure he wouldn’t have crossed the…mmmmmmmmrrrrrrrm!
And me taking the risk of allowing myself to be angry in front of him and stressed-out-controlling but in his mind, the tact in which I displayed or suggested another lane, or a mixture of coffees to satisfy my weird neurosis of such. The patience with the bakery counter guy who was going to address each individual separately and not move on the the next until the entire order had been completed; Whitney Houston’s “Greatest Love of All” so ironically playing in the background… “Learning to love yourself.. is the greatest gift of all”; even though the sun was hiding and the fear that the butterflies would all be sleeping and could be a waste or not a waste but the destination of the butterfly experience be compromised… he didn’t see it as crazy (again, only a week into it but who knows.. trust).
He claims he sees the sum of all of it including the the dialog with the hostess at the mexican restaurant and the banter with the bus boys, which I think at first was embarrassing to him.. which I felt when he tried to pull me away from the station saying “ok, let’s not bother the staff” but then taking a step back and allowing for my extroverted personality to shine and allowing my own self while understanding our comforts are not the same, I guess… IS a freeing feeling. My almost tears as I revealed to him my desire to have my doors opened, coat placed on me, bags carried so my hands can be free…(I guess if my hands are free I an take his arm?). My freedom in expressing this was scary as all get out and his enthrallment with the way I “take care of”, taking him to this magical place, healing his arm with touch, experiencing the moments freely without putting on a facade is the compilation of who I am, who we are. And the past experiences, hurts, accolades, lessons are welcomed in story rather than retracted from or looked upon with expectation and wariness is the way I want to live my life.
He brought me Thai food and flowers from Santa Monica. And we lied in the guest room bed, in my mother’s home, next to the room I lost my virginity… falling… and I/we let it happen. I didn’t push or test. I told him about how my brother died in that home, as we sat in the den staring at a picture of my brother and I at 18 and he was 21 in our formal-wear. He wiped my tears as he heard of the dream I had the day my friend, Blue, visited me in the moment he left the earth, a loss he has not yet, endured physically; My mother living in the same home her son 16 years ago and her mother this past year, both died in. He witnessed the pain she holds by the hoarding and filling of space with stuff as the emptiness is too great and the sorrow too hurtful. I let him in. To my world. To my life. Into my heart. Not my pants.
Sure, I’m still guarded to a point as anyone would be in such a short amount of time but the ability and desire to liquify those walls before I build them is almost frightening as it’s mostly uncharted territory. I fell in love with a guy while traveling, 12 years ago, in a day and a half and gave my heart to another that will always hold a piece in his, for the life altering events we shared will keep up connected forever and I feel as at ease as I was with either of them with this incredible man. And his “warning signs” of me lack of relationships as he defined them melted away as the definition revealed itself through story. I’ve only allowed 2 real relationships in my life and a whole lot of dating, only 2 people that mattered to me so much that my definition and outcome was the word, “boyfriend” or “relationship” and by expressing it clearer to myself, I was able to pinpoint the definitive line between. Honesty of self. And that is the allowing of my complete vulnerability and trust in someone else.. that’s what made them different from the others I’ve dated. The switch to be flipped in my wording or expression of how I feel about them. I was made to feel or allowed to act as if there was nothing I could do that was not going to be accepted and cherished. And I guess to be quite honest in THIS definition.. there has only been 1 that I had no control of loving; the other was a conscious choice that I remember making in my shower.. a choice to love that man, wholey, for as long as I decided and that’s why I still do. I made a choice to and this goes back to what Computer guy says by making choices every moment to “cherish”, “relate” as a verb rather than being in a “relationship” which is by definition a noun, something acquired.
As I sit here, I know that I am pushing the other guy (New York-like Guy) further from me by changing our meeting/hike time a second time to finish the path I am on. I’m sooo much more interested in Computer guy as the “relating” is apparently easier, fluid. I feel more of a friend vibe with the NY guy and don’t have the courage to be honest, yet.. maybe playing games, fear of coming across or being preceived as a flakey LA person which is not the case but my mind is elsewhere and my heart is opening to someone else. He says “like” a lot, like every few words and like as a teenager, I like, get it but as like a man in his like 40’s is just like a little, weird. He’s complimentary to me as well and to my freedom of expression so in my
his jaw clenches when he’s so “randy” that it cannot be contained. It’s one of our tells, like my tapping of my thumbs along my finger pads or his playing his index to the middle finger when deep in thought.
I want to not struggle in my life because of money. I don’t want that to be a deciding factor or have bearing on the quality of happiness and even in my business voice as I fear scaring away someone with the inability to meet me, I still communicated these needs, with little hesitation He thinks I’m smart. He loves all types of music and building things that he envisions for the greater good. He has my mango sorbet in his refrigerator until I show myself to the tree house he’s erecting in the backyard. He says can’t afford the $3000 rent for the place he shares with his “boss” but has the desires to make that a non-issue telling tales of our excursions and time in Bali where he programs greatness from our vacation home while I tend to the children. He, the hunter gatherer, me the nutruer, though we both play that role. I don’t think he has money problems but more concerns of pleasing me and being enough and also residual from growing up with nothing and being on his own since he was 16. I feel matched by him and that’s the greatest gift for me!
*The young girl sitting to my right, maybe 8 years old, plays chess with her dad while waiting for her food, talking to the waiter as if an adult understanding occurs.*
He wants to miss me, feel the emptiness, which is a strange and an endearing statement that I understand. The longing that comes with “constraint”, keeping the boundaries of clothing in tact; the long drive home after a night of expressed, collected, contained passion… I feel like if I let him read this blog, he’d still want to know me.
We realized that neither of us has a desire to put anything or have anything put into our butts! Communication at it’s finest. Butt sex is not a fetish, yay! Some of the important things out on the table before the act is achieved, or not, in this case attempted. we have an allowance for open communication and this is one of the “must have” “deal breakers” that is just that. Without the honesty, openness, humor, trust, candor, communication, willingness, attraction… there is no desire for the journey to go further.
He wants conceive babies made in love cabin rented for the sole purpose of creating a new life-force from the pure intensions of beauty, desire and love. I think if he had it his way… he would rent it tomorrow and probe his “sparks” through my receptacle until the cells separated and multiplied into a living breathing melted, intertwined being. He wants to tie me to a bed, blindfolded in submission and gently place a vibrator in my arousal zone, empowering his control or absence in leaving the room and me to be out of [control], complete puddy in his imagination, while checking in on my every so often hearing my screams for pleasurable delight until my body couldn’t take it anymore, while licking my wet, squirming body while begging him to fuck me… I’m getting wet just thinking of it. His desire is to pleasure me and my life. To allow myself to give over so willingly and trust someone so completely is so far, still in it’s dream-state. To actually be engrossed in a match so great that the follow through is actualized?
I told him of my fantasy to come home to a towel trail leading from the bathroom to bed covered in rubber sheets under a rubber kid pool filled with oil secured by the stability of more towels to keep from slipping. THIS has been a fantasy of mine for too long to have not yet been actualized. More than a few have heard this yet, not one has fulfilled it… I may actually get to check this off my list..woohoo!! Right now.. still wishful thinking. But I have hope! 🙂
I can’t believe the time frame is only a little over a week! I remember calling my ex when I had met “the Stalker” to tell him that if things continued as well as I would think, then he could be the one for me. I had met someone and I felt he should know. Sooooo, I’m not fooling myself to think that this won’t turn out just as horribly but as in that moment of those first couple weeks, I have a feeling that this one, I hope THIS one is the one for me to achieve my greatest potential and our most fulfilling depths. I know I get caught up a lot in the desire to find the one to “take me off the market”. I remember that when I called Computer guy from my blocked number he asked me to “Please let us fall in love so we can get off the web and on with our lives”… “OK, I’ll give it a shot. I’m game, let’s see if it works”, I shrugged. His roommate’s seen him “date”, “relate” with so many women that he hasn’t even really divulged much of “us” to him partly because the roommate is in China right now and partly because he wants to see where it goes, though the roommate does know about me as he was in on the “running to meet me” (no rain) on V-day, last tuesday. Crazy! And his really great girl”friend” is aware and seems approving. I may meet her this weekend, which would be a wonderful treat of sorts to see him with his friends, in a social setting and just to see him again, in general.
I’ve been writing for 3 hours now, my food has come and gone and it’s now time to go on a hike with NY-like Guy. THIS should be interesting!!
It’s a shame you don’t have a donate button! I’d certainly donate
to this superb blog! I suppose for now i’ll settle for book-marking and adding your RSS feed to my Google account.
I look forward to fresh updates and will talk
about this website with my Facebook group. Chat soon!