Booty Call

I’m sorry for not updating… like ever. Please forgive me.

I think I’ve come to the comfortable conclusion, that booty calls are my friend. I like the idea of hanging out with a person, ever so often, just to meet my carnal needs. Because, quite frankly I can’t handle much else.

Every time I start opening up…. lets just say things end quickly. Sometimes its me, sometimes its him.

I like the honesty of saying… I like having sex with you, can’t really do/afford much else right now, so want to fuck here and there?

In the past week I’ve had sex with three different people. Each experience was pleasant. And honestly I think increasingly with each one.

Would I be cool with screwing these three people ever so often? Sure. Do I want to get to know them beyond that. Yes, but mostly because I find them interesting, not because of some strange spark in the pit of my stomach.

My counselor said that I have a very blasé kind of attitude towards dating. And he’s right. I’m extremely indifferent. I feel nothing for these men. I think that they’re interesting, and I have fun with them, but when I stop and analyze my feelings… they just aren’t there. Do I want to keep fucking them? Sure. But more because I focus so much better when I get laid.

I don’t really focus very well at all when I’m left to my own devices. I end up masturbating for hours on end… Having a partner, really allows for more of a resolution. A kind of… Okay now time for something else.

Is this what polyamory is? Maybe, but I think its further from the Ethical Slut, and more towards….just something else.

Am I acting out of character? No, I don’t think so. I think in some respects I’m still redefining my character from when I was raped, and from being divorced.

I told one of the guys about my past. Rapes, hospital…you know the whole schtick. But I don’t feel closer to this person. I may never see him again. I don’t know.

Will I see the guy I saw last night again? I don’t know…. And I don’t know if I care. He has a Michael Fassbender quality to him, and I wanted to fuck him. Now I have, and I still want to, but do I need to? No.

The other day I put my kegel cisor in for the whole day. Just to see how that’d go. I think that was a mistake. I mean I didn’t damage myself, but lets just say there might be such a thing as too tight of a pussy.

 

I just think that maybe I should cool it with the kegels for a minute.

I stopped taking my medicine because it made me sick. And then once I spaced out the dosage, I realized I had become increasingly numb, and a bit suicidal, so no more Effexor. I feel much better, actually….feeling.

I think its also part of the reason that I was having a really hard time in the studio. Like…the medication made me see the absurdity, and frivolity of what I do, and then all my head would tell me is what an asshole I was for adding to the junk in the world. Make me feel guilty for the need to create.  Sooo… fuck that.

With out making art, I am a miserable cunt of a person. It is life to me.  It is my oxygen. I know all my life feeds my work. Lately, due to the nature of my work… sex definitely does.

 

Stuck on Repeat

I don’t hate men. I really don’t. I don’t hate my friends that are men. I love them. I love my father, my grandfather. Cousins. Uncles. Professors. Mentors.

But I have the one man that I do hate…is stuck in my head.

Any time I see some stupid facial expression that resembles one that he used to give me. Or some stupid impossible situation happens, I expect to be blamed. And its not that I intentionally put some huge wall up. But then once I see my ex’s face, that’s all I see.

I have such a long way to go.

I have to find a counselor up here.

Tomorrow.

And you know I also realized something else. I’m sooo not poly. I’m just a commitment phobe. Because really, in actuality I’m more okay with some one telling me straight up being up front about being poly amorous and wanting to be with multiple people, and me knowing where I stand with them. Just them. Than I am trying to even fathom getting to know and potentially trust, multiple people at once.

Fuck that.

There’s no way that’s happening. I’m more okay with telling strangers what happened to me than trying to actually have a romantic relationship with some one. Because the strangers just walk away. Like some strange living recording device that I never have to see again.

And for a while I forget what ever it was that I said to them.

I think for whatever reason there is still something in my head that says, ” You know what the sure sign of being okay is? Being in a relationship”

Which isn’t the case. It wasn’t the case when I was dating my ex, it wasn’t the case when I was married to my ex, and it certainly wasn’t and isn’t the case after divorcing my ex.

I feel like I haven’t really been single. I haven’t told myself, “I’m not seeing any one right now.”

I haven’t said to myself….”You really shouldn’t be having sex right now.”

I mean I have, but usually only after a terrible one night stand.

I really… really, need to give myself some time to heal. Just, that’s it.

I need to chill the fuck out and cool it with the sex for a minuet.

I’m going to need a new vibrator.

Reject much?

One of the emotions or feelings that I can’t seem to shake is how rejected I feel. How unwanted I feel. I realize that it was good that I got divorced. That, that relationship wasn’t something that needed to continue. And I also understand that I was the one that really called for the divorce, so to speak. But I keep feeling like if he hadn’t not wanted me to be who I am then things could have worked out.

Of course I know this is a complete lie. I do.

But I think if there wasn’t such a reoccurring pattern in my life of me getting more attached to some one than they were to me….well, then I might be able to shake it.

I thought that I might be polyamorous. And I think I am still. But am I not allowed to have my favorites? My preferences?

The other thing I can’t seem to get outside of my head is the stupid Christian bullshit that I was fed at as a youth. I was taught that I would lose all of my allure as soon as I gave it up.

It would be like how Amon felt about Tamar after he raped her.

I’m usually the one that makes the first move. I need some one to make the first move.

No you know what I really need? I need a person who wants to fuck me more than once. A person who sees me stark naked, in carnal glory, watches me cum, makes me cum, and wants more. Not a person who sees all this, and walks away with out looking back.

Preferably more than one. To verify my polyamorous desires.