Yesterday was Shai and my 12th anniversary. We went to the Bear Pub, and ate and drank well. The Bear is one of maybe only four places in the Carmel center where you can do both of those.
We did some reminiscing, and some talking. I’m sorry to say though, that I haven’t successfully convinced him to get his issues seen to.
The last time I was in a similar position, I was 25 years old. This time I’m almost 40. What makes it harder is that I’m not in any particular physical danger except maybe from myself. If I’m honest, that has to be the biggest problem at the moment. He’s just doing what is his nature to do. He’s a fetishist, and better yet, and older fetishist. From his point of view, he’s just matured to a level where he doesn’t feel he has to do things he doesn’t really like doing, especially when they involve risks that he is firmly against taking. He doesn’t like sexual intercourse, and is against taking the risk of possibly breeding.
So basically, there is no, or rather extremely limited room in his sexuality for someone like me. There’s room in his dungeon, but not in his pants.
I am so fucked.
I’m almost 40, and will never get love and sex from the same person ever again. Admitting that to myself almost makes me want to cry. What stops the tears is the realization that this is actually freedom. Now that I’ve accepted that fact, I no longer need to try to get both from the same person.
Personally, I don’t see a point in having sex with someone I don’t love, and who doesn’t love me. It feels necrophillic, and I can’t suspend disbelief enough during the actual sex act to convince myself that it feels good. Physically and mechanically, I’m there, but I would be lying if I said that sex with anyone except Cuz for the past 5 years has been even remotely truly satisfying. If I could make myself turn off my emotions up until the sex itself, all illusions were brutally crushed by the time any penetration happened.
Granted, this means that any of my former bitches who reads this will understand that I lied to them, but well, that would just make us even, now wouldn’t it? I never claimed moral superiority to them, just greater survival energy. I suppose now they’ll understand why none of them could really break me. I pretended to go along with their lies to me and to themselves for the same reason I don’t argue with my parents about religion. If they want to believe in Santa Claus, I’m happy to take the bite from the cookie, sip the milk, hide the presents until Christmas morning, and act as surprised and thrilled as they are.
So what’s next?
Well, anyone who’s read the Kama Sutra knows the answer. I gotta be real, and I gotta be me. Now that I understand what my life is going to be like, I’m not going to rail against reality. I’m going with the flow. At this point, I’ll view sex as something like an occasional antidepressant. For the next 10-15 years, once a year, I’ll seduce some dude who will at least appreciate it once. This will tide me over until I myself become physically uninterested in sex, and maybe beyond so long as the psychological urge is still there. It’s basically how I was for a year before I met my first husband, and that felt right.
At 21, I already understood that I lived in a screwed up world, and my chances of finding a guy who is an independent thinker was low, one who was attracted to me even lower, and one who wasn’t broken and would stick with me low like winning the lottery. My experiences between then and now kind of confused me into thinking maybe there might be some small chance. Now I understand that it’s just not going to happen for me, though I do encourage younger wolves to keep hunting because you never know.
For me personally though, the search is over. I am grateful for what I have. I have someone who is a good companion for me, and who I can talk to beyond the age my hormones stop nagging me. Truthfully, that’s what a marriage is supposed to be if you strip away the superficial and sexual issues: a bond with a person for life, not for sex. I’m wired so that I don’t really need sex for strong bonding. Once someone’s in my pack, that’s it. If I don’t see them for 20 years, I still have the same take-a-bullet love.
Beyond me and Shai, I have some great friends. I have enough love in my life. So sex is something more physically driven, and really kind of an annoying urge that I wish would go away, but it doesn’t. I have to keep it in perspective.
…and that’s that. I thank biomechanics and whatever Creator entity there may be for the lesson, and look forward to the next adventure.