Sunday, July 29, 2007

New Favorite Song* Love Song by Sara Bareilles

I don't even feel the need to honor you with a psuedonym like I do my other lovers who I want to protect, my other lovers who respect me enough to either be my friends or say they can't also be my friends and my lover, my other lovers who knew getting into this that they weren't getting a commitment from me though I would always be safe and protect their safety as well, my other lovers who would not put in the position you have. I loved this song when I first heard it weeks ago and I now I realize that I won't do the equivalent, no matter how much I want you, as my lover, as my friend, even as bad as I've wanted for over a year to be your significant other. I won't give up the life I have, the life I want, the life I built, just because you ask for it, just because you say it is making or breaking this, especially when your heart in nowhere in it.

Love Song - Sara Bareilles
Head under water
and they tell me to breathe easy for a while
the breathing gets harder, even I know that
you made room for me but it's too soon to see
if I'm happy in your hands
I'm unusually hard to hold on to
Blank stares at blank pages
no easy way to say this
you mean well, but you make this hard on me

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today

I learned the hard way
that they all say things you want to hear
and my heavy heart sinks deep down under you and
your twisted words,
your help just hurts
you are not what I thought you were
hello to high and dry
Convinced me to please you
made me think that I need this too
I'm trying to let you hear me as I am

I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's
make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
If all you have is leaving
I'm gonna need a better
reason to write you a love song today

Promise me that you'll leave the light on
to help me see with daylight, my guide, gone
'cause I believe there's a way you can love me
because I say

I won't write you a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking this
is that why you wanted a love song
'cause you asked for it
'cause you need one, you see
I'm not gonna write you a love song
'cause you tell me it's make or breaking this
if you're on your way
I'm not gonna write you to stay
if your heart is nowhere in it
I don't want it for a minute
Babe, I'll walk the seven seas when I believe that
there's a reason to
write you a love song today

From Craig Ferguson
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RdE5nrYA5pw
From Public Access
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8ctKH9GCbRg

Monday, July 16, 2007

Sexuality and Class

Conversation had Saturday night on the way back from the concert
Me: So I had sex with ex-T Wednesday. It seems I managed to catch him at a time between girlfriends, so we kissed and had sex, the whole nine. Not just him teasing me until I acquiesced to a blow job.
Sir: (Silence)
Me: Why is that some guys think that blow jobs and hand jobs aren't cheating?
Sir: Because some guys are assholes.
Me: You mean none of your male friends think that getting a blow job isn't cheating?
Sir: No. Not that I'm aware of. But then again I don't hang out with assholes.
Me: It seems to me that it is, in large part, relegated to men that are our age or younger, of our socio-economic level who haven't gone to college or tried to rise much above this economic leave or get out of their hometown.
(Long silence. Both thinking.)
Sir: There is another, less pretty way of saying all that you just said, but it'll probably make you mad if I say it.
Me: (eyebrows scrunched) What?
Sir: Poor people do stupid things.

So I have always been kinda curious about how people, which I've usually found to be male, can construct their ideas of what is or isn't cheating for them in what seems to be a rather arbitrary way. It is even worse in my opinion that they don't usually share these ideas with their partners and that they also have different rules for what is cheating when it comes to their partners. I suppose this especially bothers me in regards to ex-T, who has said he'd never get back with me because I cheated on him, which would be perfectly valid and understandable if he wasn't perfectly happy getting blow jobs from women other than his girlfriend. While I must admit to actually knowing few people personally who feel this way, or at least few who will admit it to me, but it does seem to be a popular cultural notion. Of course, just because it's something that TV shows and the MSM present as the cultural norm doesn't mean that is the case.

But what's really been bugging me since this conversation is the class-based assumptions both Sir and I were making. Later, I did tell him that it also seems to be a popularly presented social norm among higher-educated, upwardly-mobile, exec-wannabe-type guys, but that I would assume has more to do with a sense of both male and economic privilege than anything else, whereas I'm not sure where it stems from with men like ex-T.

This sense of my (largely) unquestioned classism came back to me last night as I was reading Sex & the Slayer: A Gender Studies Primer for the Buffy Fan by Lorna Jowett. In her chapter "New Men", centering on men in Buffy who are neither typical tough guys nor vamps but are trying for some ideal of the New Man, she touches on the way in which middle-class society, typically the people that are making television shows and for whom television shows are made, attribute sexuality, or at least a certain type of sexuality to the working class. (Let's leave aside issues of race and the stereotypical ways in which white society attributes a certain type of sexuality to other races because that is a whole section in the library right there.) The two main characters that get the most thorough treatment in this chapter are Giles and Xander. When discussing Giles, Jowett says that, in addition to being a male authority figure and a financial provider, "Giles displays other traditionally masculine characteristics- aggressive sexuality and physical violence- though these are often displaced onto his alter ego, Ripper.(129)" Ripper is a hold-over from Rupert Giles 20-something days as a university dropout who meddled in dark magic. But when Giles is Ripper, he loses the glasses, dresses like a 50's rebel, and takes on a "(rather exaggerated) generic southern English working-class 'accent'.(129)" Jowett uses Ripper and several other bad boy characters to argue that these characters link "a certain type of masculinity with certain types of men: middle class men may be new men, but working-class men are real men. (130)" Jowett goes on to demonstrate how Giles sexual prowess is proved through his relationships with Jenny Calendar, his black UK lover Olivia, and Joyce Summers, Buffy's mom, who he has sex with as Ripper. It seems that Giles can only truly express these more "base" traditionally masculine behaviors through a working-class alter ego.

This becomes even more apparent in Jowett's discussion of Xander, the only member of the Scoobie gang who is clearly not from a middle-class background. Shown from the start of the show to be a self-deprecating dork with no supernatural powers or special skills who does not go on to college with the rest of the Scoobie gang, Xander still serves as the "Heart" of the Combo-Buffy formed by the group to defeat Adam, the Big Bad of Season 4. Jowett writes, "But as I see it the real problem with Xander's representation as a new man is sexuality....Sexual prowess is again called on to demonstrate that a new man is in fact a real man. Xander's uninhibited (hetero)sexuality can be read as another trait attributed to the working class by the middle class.(136)"

The more I thought about what Jowett seems to be saying about class and sexuality, as it is presented in popular culture and popular mores, the more it rang true to me that the middle class environments that I grew up within, including my family, my high school, my popular culture of movies/TV/music, present virile, unbounded, aggressive, non-monogamous sexualities as (stereo)typical of working class people. In middle class or upper class peoples, these sexualities are deviant, often signs of some other inner corruption. Though I am fascinated by postmodern thought and identity politics/philosophy, I am realizing that I've spent so much time focused on feminist and LGBT identity philosophies that I've neglected masculine studies and class issues (not to mention race issues).

Ok, so what is the point of this whole long 'essay'? Mostly, that I'm still acting out assumptions that I have from my upbringing about not only sexuality and race, but also class and how I've been taught to assume they all work together. Obviously, from Sir's response, I'm not the only one, but I do think this is something that I've never really thought that in depth about and that I'd like to explore further. Does it really boil down to working class men having such unstoppable sex drives and low morals that they will then construct their personal sexual moralities to allow for that? Or is that just a horrible horrible example of me stereotyping based on one guy and crappy things that I hear people say about guys?

I guess I'm just putting it out there.

Sex In A Box

First off, I'd like to put on this the caveat that this term might be something I heard somewhere from someone else, or on TV, so I'm not claiming to be original. I'm also not claiming that this is a very good metaphor for what I'm trying to do, but it seems to be sticking with me, and it's fun to say, so I thought I'd post on it to let everyone in on the new phrase I'll be using rather frequently.

So, in a previous post, I talked about my evolving ideas on "casual sex". The more I think about it, the more I know I don't really want any one-night stands necessarily. If I met someone I really was attracted to but who either didn't want to date me or who I didn't want to date but that I did have the opportunity to have sex with, I'm not sure I'd pass it up. But DATING for me right now is a very open proposition. The way I've been thinking about DATING is that it is SEX IN A BOX.

Definition Time. SEX IN A BOX: This is a mutually beneficial sexual (and probably platonic) relationship that is non-monogamous, non-exclusive, open, honest, safe, and sane, with both partners being in agreement to the terms and conditions of the arrangement. Part of the box is the rules and expectations that each person has/needs for the relationship to work. This includes how much, or how little contact each partner expects to still feel secure and not used, how affectionate and couple-like the people will act in public (and, I suppose, in private as well), and what feelings/emotions/actions keep the SEX IN A BOX from being a full-blown exclusive romantic long-term relationship. The other part of the box is that (optimally) the relationship can easily be contained, sex aside, put up on the shelf, when one partner needs to because other obligations (family, job, school) need all of that person's attention, but without the other partner feeling like they are being betrayed or neglected. Also, the other partner is not obligated to take on the burden of their partner, as they would in monogamous romantic relationship. Obviously, I feel like I would treat everyone and anyone that I had this kind of a relationship with as I would treat any friend- helping when requested and as possible, "from each according to their ability and to each according to their need". These people are/should be people that I respect, care for, even perhaps love or am in love with. I just don't require, or even want, sole right to their body, romantic attention, and love, just as I do not want to grand them sole rights to my body, romantic attention, and love. I also know that I personally can't afford to love myself to a long-term relationship.

I know this sounds a great deal like FRIENDS WITH BENEFITS. Maybe. But I've usually found that FWB is either a nice term to cover up having casual sex with someone or a nice term to cover up the fact that you are having sex with someone you would really like to be in a long-term romantic relationship with, but you can't them to agree to it. Also, I am trying to construct a more open and honest way of dealing with having non-monogamous multiple sexual relationships that are clearly defined and arranged so that it is easier to navigate them.

But this also leads me to further thoughts on what I define as sex. When relating my escapades to Mon Parrain upon his return from a business trip, I told him that I'd had sex with two people and fooled around with two others. But when I went on to describe these encounters he, very astutely, challenged my hetrocentric views of what qualifies as sex with whom.
Mon Parrain: So when you were with the woman, what was just oral sex and digital penetration, you call that sex, right?
Me: Right....
Mon Parrain: But the only time you call it sex, when you're wiht a man, is when there's intercourse....?
Me: Mmmm, I see what you are getting at.
Mon Parrain: It seems a rather hetrosexist, penis-vagina penetration-oriented way to view sex.
Me: (Pause) Yeah, my good friend Miss Kee has pointed this out to me once or twice as well.
Mon Parrain: Here is how I define sex. I call it sex if either both people have all their clothes off at the same time and/or if there is oral sex. If neither of these things happen, then it is just fooling around.
Me: (Pause) Ok, so I've had sex with four people since you.
Mon Parrain: Well, I didn't get a chance to have sex while I was gone but I'm glad one of us did.

Of course, not every date I go on will lead to sex and not every romantic dating encounter will lead to SEX IN A BOX. Even if I clicked with that person, many people want long-term relationships or at least require exclusivity and monogamy. While I think a SEX IN A BOX relationship could be long-term, it doesn't necessarily have to be (and I suppose it depends on what your definition of long-term is as well), but it obviously won't be exclusive or monogamous, unless just by default, because I or one of my partners can't find or doesn't want another partner. Plus, I don't want too many boxes. I can barely handle have half a dozen friends and a dozen or so acquaintances at one time. Maybe that's why I like that one SEX IN A BOX lives close enough to visit regularly but not in my homecity and a potential DOM IN A BOX lives very far away but visits my homecity on business. Well, we'll see how this little experiment of mine works out.

What's So Wrong to Begin with that They Should All Have to Pretend....

Anticipate- Ani DiFranco
you are subtle as a window pane
standing in my view
but I will wait for it to rain
so that I can see you
you call me up at night
when there's no light passing through
and you think that I don't understand
but I do

we don't say everything that we could
so that we can say later
oh, you misunderstood
I hold my cards upclose to my chest
I say what I have to
and I hold back the rest

'cause someone you don't know
is someone you don't know
get a firm grip, girl
before you let go
for every hand extended
another lies in wait
keep your eye on that one
anticipate

dress down get out there
pick a fight with the police
we will get it all on film
for the new release
seems like everyone's an actor
or they're an actor's best friend
I wonder what was wrong to begin with
that they should all have to pretend
we lost sight of everything
when we have to keep checking our backs
I think we should all just smile
come clean
and relax

'cause someone you don't know
is someone you don't know
get a firm grip, girl
before you let go
for every hand extended
another lies in wait
keep your eye on that one
anticipate

if there's anything I've learned
all these years on my own
it's how to find my own way there
and how to find my own way back home

you are subtle as a window pane
standing in my view
but I will wait for it to rain
so that I can see you
you call me up at night
when there's no light passing through
and you think that I don't understand
but I do

'cause someone you don't know
is someone you don't know
get a firm grip, girl
before you let go
for every hand extended
another lies in wait
keep your eye on that one
anticipate

There are very few actual videos of Ani songs, but I found this modern jazz dance performance, or probably just their practice, to the song, the live version from "Living in a Clip". The audio of the song isn't so great, but I still thought it was pretty cool so I thought I'd use it as my clip instead of any other Ani live performances I might have been able to find. Hope you like.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=CIPEn0WMm9Y

Jump Right In- The Urge

Yep, another boring song for now kiddies. But look out for posts on "Sex in a Box" and "Sex and Class", coming soon, same blog time, same blog channel. (Ok, so maybe not the same time, but it's such a great line!)

Jump Right In- The Urge
sitting at the edge of the bed
one million thoughts as i reflect.
tease me just a little
i'm not hard to persuade
fully aware for this that i might pay.
not too much that can be said
thinking about the bad things in my head,
always wondering if what they said was true
now i'm in the bed with...

even though she was no stranger
chose the one keep me out of danger.
no song and dance just jump right in.

fought the urge to do it -
skin to skin
what the hell here i go -
jump right in

standing in the doorway of distress -
ask MD, for ways out of this mess,
a wave of panic every time i lose a hair
i believe i'm falling apart but not quite despair.
turns into this one thing i just can't ignore -
don't knowwhat i am feeling anymore -
i guess it's time to end this affair like i don't care
i don't care.

fought the urge to do it -
skin to skin
what the hell here i go -
jump right in

even though she was no stranger -
chose the one to keep me out of danger,
no song and dance
i took my chances with her
no time to waste.
just jump right in i said to her -
stand in the doorway of distress -
no time to waste just
jump right in,

fought the urge to do it -
skin to skin
what the hell here i go -
jump right in
http://youtube.com/watch?v=gMl7a1TiRHc

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Revisiting I Walk Alone by Oleander

I first heard this song in February 2001, when Sir made me the first of many mix disks. It always kinda made me sad because I knew he put it on their because he was trying to be the singer of the song, but that ultimately, he wanted me to be the singer, for me to be the strong one. Ironically, "the one who let me go" turned out to be him, but it did make me stronger and made me much more able to stand on my own. I listened to this on my way out to meet up with Sir for the Bruce Hornsby (who was AWESOME!) concert we went to tonight and it really made me thing about the things that are true for me now and what isn't. So, I'm going to be making some slight changes to the original lyrics, strikingthrough what doesn't fit and adding in brackets what does.

I Walk Alone- Oleander
I can't take this anymore
And i'm almost pretty sure
I've been here before
I can't take this any longer
I won't heal until i'm stronger
[I am] Strong enough to not be afraid
Of what anybody thinks
Of what anybody says
About the way
About the way i am
So i'll wait until the day
When those feelings fade away
Then i'll make my break

I can't take this anymore
And i'm almost pretty sure
I've been here before
I can't take this any longer
I won't heal until i'm stronger
Strong enough to not be afraid
So i leave it up to you
Yeah i leave it in your hands
Respect your wishes and your demands
But if it was up to me
Honey we'd already be back at home
And
living out our dreams
Living our dreams

Everbody and everything i've known
Never taught me how to stand up on my own
Had to learn it from the one who let me go
Now i walk alone, yeah i walk alone, yeah
Living blissfully

I guess she [he] had to step away
To make me want to be
A bigger man, a bigger man than that
I need you by my side
As i take it all in stride
I put away, i put away my pride
Oh i leave it up to you
Yeah i leave it in your hands
Respect your wishes and your demands
But if it was up to me
Honey we'd already be back at home
And
living our dreams

Everbody and everything i've known
Never taught me how to stand up on my own
Had to learn it from the one who let me go
Now i walk alone
Yeah I walk alone, yeah I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk alone
I walk, oh yeah
http://youtube.com/watch?v=eQ3ei32FWy0

P.S. I think I might be getting the hang of this HTML shit. I did all the strikethrough on the HTML editor!!! Yea for Ava!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Important Hair Update!

For well over a year, I had very short hair. I liked it. It was easy to maintain. It was another way to advertise my queer-ness. It was cute.

January 2006 I started growing my hair out again. I felt like the short hair was more butch than I really wanted to present myself as and I missed being able to do stuff with my hair, braids, twists, etc. And I think that I managed to keep my hair under control most of the time as I was growing it out.

So I how have an important announcement about my hair. I can officially put it all up in a ponytail without major stragglers (for a while at least). Also, I can officially put it into one french braid. While it might not seem like it, having to grow my hair for a year and a half just to be able to pull it all back into one simple style, not have to partition it off in strange ways so that it was out of my face and off my neck, is HUGE! And, I can also just put some leave in conditioner and some anti-frizz on it, crunch it up a little, and get it to look pretty decent! How awesome is that!!!!

I'm sure I'll get regular trims and maybe add a little style to it, especially when I get back home to my beloved lesbian hairdresser, but I'm going to keep growing it for awhile. I missed having hair that I could do strange things to. I keep imagining doing those intricate braid things that women in ancient Rome and Greece used to do to their hair. Of course, they had hours and many slaves. But at least I have the hair to do it with now. Yea!!!!

Wednesday, July 11, 2007

Casual Sex

Merriam Webster Online
Casual
1: subject to, resulting from, or occurring by chance (a casual meeting) 2 a : occurring without regularity : OCCASIONAL (casual employment) b: employed for irregular periods (a casual worker) c: met with on occasion and known only superficially (a casual friend) 3 a (1) : feeling or showing little concern: NONCHALANT (a casual approach to cooking) (2) : lacking a high degree of interest or devotion (casual shorts fans) (casual readers) (3) : done without serious intent or commitment (casual sex) b (1) : INFORMAL, NATURAL (a casual conversation) (2) : designed for informal use (casual clothing)

Urban Dictionary
Casual Sex
1. Having sexual contact with another person with no plans on furthering a long term/committed relationship with that person.

4. Sex that involves two people who have no desire or intention of ever commiting to any type of exclusive relationship with each other eliminates many stressful factors that may accompany a commited relationship such as: jealousy, mind games, verbal and/or physical abuse, marriage, accountability of daily actions/wherabouts, lack of quailty and/or frequency in sexual activity, boredom, and many more I'm sure.*****THE BEST KIND OF SEX*****He and I have casual sex. It is by-far the best sex I've ever had and can hardly wait for the next time we meet! ***Additional note: casual sex is not the same as promiscuous sex in that casual sex can be had with one person time after time while to fit the definition of promiscuous multiple partners are required


Sir told me a little over a week ago that I was having casual sex. He wasn't trying to be insulting or defamatory. I had just revealed that I had had very unexpected, unplanned sex with a huge crush of mine, but, because I'd also been dating and having sex with Mon Parrain, I was wondering if he thought I was being...wrong, immoral. As Sir has the highest moral code of any non-bible thumper I know, I thought he might be a good judge. His answer was that, as casual sex was all I was looking for, as long as I was honest with my partners and safe, he didn't see anything wrong with it.

But I was really taken aback by the term "casual sex". It wasn't really casual to me. I took it very seriously. When looking at the Merriam Webster definition of casual, I hardly think that the sex I was having was any of those things. It wasn't by chance. I hope it continues to occur with some regularity. It wasn't superficial in my opinion. And I have a great deal of concern, interest, and devotion for the sex I had and the people that I had the sex with. Calling what I did "casual sex" seemed to really disrespect the sex, myself, and the people I was had the sex with, none of which I think is necessary.

Obviously, our society gives greater support and respect to sex had within relationships and, the more long-term and committed the relationship is, the more support and respect our society gives to it. Lately, I've found myself trying to describe to people why I do not want a boyfriend or girlfriend or partner or husband or wife (heretofore refered to as SO, for significant other), even with these great people who I have had sex with and hope to have more sex with. Honestly, most people don't get it, especially my grandmother, but I just chalk that up to generational differences. On the other hand, she goes into lengthy diatribes about how stupid this particular female relative of ours (my grandmother's aunt's granddaughter) who is only a year older than me. At the time of this particular conversation, this woman was married to a guy who she claimed beat her (though my grandmother said she'd never seen any bruises, so that must not be true) and who had been picked up for two DUIs in the same month. They have a two year old daughter, but they are always fighting and they both drink like fish. The woman cleans houses and works as a bartender at a golf club and is always talking about how this guy or that guy wants to sweep her off her feet, which she'll one day let them do when she finally leaves her husband. My grandmother tsk-tsk'd this the whole time and acted like this woman was an isolated situation. But, from what I know from ex-T who still lives here in this suburb, this is pretty typical of most of the women of my age who still live here, especially the ones of our socio-economic-racial backgrounds who didn't go to college. ex-T, poor bastard that he is, can't stand to be alone. He goes from girlfriend to girlfriend, never really leaving one behind until another one is lined up. Is the sex he has with a brand-new girlfriend, who he might soon find he can't stand and break-up with within the month, any more casual than the sex I have been having? Many women here, fuck, many women everywhere, do the same thing, feel the same way. They don't want to just have "casual sex" because then they'd be sluts, but, if they are "dating" a guy or "going out with a guy" or he's their "boyfriend", however little commitment that actually entails and however little time they've actually spent together and however little they know each other, the sex is no longer "casual" so they aren't sluts. I reject that.

When I have a SO, I expect certain things of them and of myself, a certain (rather high) level of commitment and involvement. I know that I cannot give that for the forseeable future. Once I get back home after this crazy summer, I'll have classes, my new job, (hopefully) hanging out with friends, and members of my family will still be ill. Oh, and have a semi-regular spiritual practice, exercise routine, and creative writing schedule. If I have a SO, I will devote as much time and energy to my love for them and my relationship with them that everything except my classes and my job will go out the window. After I obtain a degree, I'd like to spend a year working my ass off to pay down my student loans, while still keeping up my spiritual practice, exercise routine, and creative writing. I want to put as much of the money I make into getting out from under my college debt and starting to build myself a solid savings, a nest egg, so that I can start a life. My life. The life I always dreamed of where I could move anywhere, do anything, not feel trapped by not having enough money. It's not that I even want to be able to live a middle-class lifestyle. I just want to be able to pick up and move if I get a job offer or just if I want to. But if I have a SO, I'll spend every free bit of time and money and mindpower on them. I'll live where they want to live. Simply, I'll never live my dreams.


I just want more than one membership to more than one club because I owe my life to the people that I love- Ani DiFranco. But does all I've written in the above paragraph mean that I should not get to have caring, honest, mutual, sexual relationships until I achieve my dreams? Does it mean that I can't learn important things from these people that I choose to have these relationships with? Things just as important as the things I could learn from significant long-term relationships? Does it mean that I care less about the people I choose to have these relationships with than I did those people I had SLTRs with? I don't think so. And I refuse to feel bad for attempting to honestly, intelligently, and positively forging sexual relationships that are outside the norm.

I don't think this is how I will always feel, but I am trying to go into this and stay in this for now with my eyes as wide open as I can. Because this isn't just casual sex to me, because these people and the experiences that we share are very far from casual.

Last Request- Paolo Nutini

This is such a beautiful song. I liked his earlier single "New Shoes", but this song is just so bittersweet and I can totally feel it where I am right now. Enjoy. I just want you closer.....

Last Request- Paolo Nutini
Slow down, lie down
Remember it's just you and me
Don't sell out, bow out
Remember how this used to be
I just want you to know something, is that alright?
Baby let's get closer, tonight

[chorus]Grant my last request and just let me hold you,
don't shrug your shoulders
Lay down beside me
Sure I can accept that we're going nowhere
But one last time let's go there
Lay down beside me, ohhh

I've found that I'm bound to wander down that long way road, ohhh
And I realise all about your lies,
But I'm no wiser than the fool that I was before.
I just want you to know something, is that alright?
Baby let's get closer, tonight.

[chorus]Grant my last request and just let me hold you,
don't shrug your shoulders
Lay down beside me

Sure I can accept that we're going nowhere
But one last time let's go there
Lay down beside me, ohhh
Baby, baby, baby
Tell me how can, how can this be wrong?

[chorus]Grant my last request and just let me hold you,
don't shrug your shoulders
Lay down beside me
Sure I can accept that we're going nowhere
But one last time let's go there
Lay down beside me, ohhh
[chorus]Grant my last request and just let me hold you,
don't shrug your shoulders
Lay down beside me
Sure I can accept that we're going nowhere
But one last time let's go there
Lay down beside me, ohhhooohhhh wohhhhohhh, yeah
Lay down beside me
One last time let's go there,
Lay down beside me.
http://youtube.com/watch?v=nFrKBrlZYPY

Sunday, July 08, 2007

Sunday after the Shower: A Fantasy

I can’t sleep any longer. The phone calls won’t stop. Well-wishers wanting to do stuff for my grandmother, my grandmother waking me and ordering me around. The dogs barking at nothing, hoping I’ll give them a bone on my way back to bed, promising me that if I do they’ll shut up.
Once back in bed, I can’t really fall back asleep. All I can think of is you. Of the times spent in this bed. It’s Sunday. I haven’t heard from you since your four line e-mail last Monday. “Talk to you soon.” Hmp.
I have to shower before making my daily visit to see my grandfather at the hospital. As he’s been moved temporarily from the rehab floor to a medical floor while he gets over a bout of pneumonia, he has even more time alone on his hands. I enjoy the quiet of sitting with him in his room. He’s never been much of a talker. Though hard of hearing, he doesn’t turn his tv up loud, mostly because he doesn’t really watch it. We mostly just sit together.
It’s a nice change of pace from my grandmother’s house. If she’s awake, she’s talking to me. Constantly. It doesn’t really matter what I’m doing or where I am in the house. Privacy has no meaning to this woman. I get a special reprieve between 8 and 9 pm, she retires to her room, where she blasts taped episodes of Law and Order: Special Victims Unit on her bedroom tv. I can hear the dialogue outside her door. She wakes up at 2 am for a cigarette, at which time she begins to talk to me again. It doesn’t matter if I’m watching a movie or catching up on the political blogs I read regularly or reading a book or just generally attempting to take advantage of the relative quiet of the house in those late night hours. She will begin the non-stop barrage of questions, disregarding the activity I’d previously been engrossed in. I suppose “question” is the wrong word because she isn’t really looking for an answer. She is looking for agreement.
Sleep provides a sort of refuge but, for the past week, I’ve been unable to sleep, thinking of you, conjuring all the ways and reasons that my hot-and-heavy new lover, who said he never disappeared on people, has suddenly disappeared.
My one respite lately has been singing. I’m not a very good vocalist, but it tends to take me out of myself, like a great meditation that I can achieve in only three minutes. The car and the shower are the best places to indulge in this because they tend to create a wonderful echo chamber, making me sound much better than I really am. As I gather my clothes, I also grab the small stereo and a mix cd, so I don’t have to rely solely on songs I know all the words to.
As I undress, I start the disk. Or attempt to start the disk. After a minute of fussing, the first song starts to play. But just as I step into the bathtub, the music stops, though the disk is still spinning. I skip that song. And the next. The third track seems to be working better. In the middle of shampooing my hair, however, that song hits a snag as well. Dripping wet, I dry my hands on my towel, skipping through the rest of the songs on the disk to see if I have any more luck with them. I don’t. Finally, I give up, turning off the power to the stereo and going back to my shower.
I drop to my knees in the bathtub, warm water streaming down my back, my calves flush against the hard porcelain. This seems to be the way my life has been going lately. A combination of life’s downs all happening at once and my less-than-stellar way of handling it. Having a hot dominant lover, full of possibilities, had seemed to take the edge of off a great deal of the stress, but now….
The dogs were barking again. But this time it meant that my grandmother was probably home. Visiting hours on that floor started at 11 am. It was probably 2 pm by now, meaning she was just exhausted. I hauled my body off the bottom of the tub and finish my shower so I could get to the quiet of the hospital as soon as possible. I shaved my legs, just in case. The tech that came on duty at 7pm last night was pretty cute. Maybe I could haul him into a linen closet for a quick make-out session before I left. Goddess, what was getting into me?!?
As soon as I pulled back the shower curtain, I realized my mistake. In my distraction to get the small stereo, I had forgotten to grab my blue jeans out of the closet. So, I had a fresh pair of panties, a bra, and a t-shirt, but no pants. Oh, well. Lotion all over, what clothes I did have, two quick pigtails in my not-quite-long-enough-for-a-real-ponytail hair, and I was ready to throw on my jeans, grab my bag, and go. But, when I opened the door to my room, I was met with a surprise.
The bed covers that I had left in a crazy mess were neatly pulled over a human-shaped lump curled in the middle of my bed. This human-shaped lump was obviously naked, as there was a neatly-stacked pile of clothes sitting on the floor at the end of the bed, the tell-tale Tommy boxer-briefs folded neatly on top. Hearing me shut the door, a blond head popped up from under the covers, a mischievous grin on your wholesome face.
“Your grandmother really needs to be more careful about locking the door when she leaves. Any psycho could come in here.”
“What do you think you are doing here? After nearly a week? No texts, no calls, no e-mails- you just show up like this? Naked and in my bed?”
“If you didn’t know I was here, why aren’t you wearing any pants?” As I don’t really have a good answer for that, I just stand at the foot of the bed and scowl at you.
A shadow passes over your face and you’re suddenly pulling me down onto the bed with you. In one swift move, you are on top of me. There is a strange new look in your eyes, one I’ve heard about but never seen. The one I teasingly call your “dom” look. Your hands are holding my wrist firmly over my head as you lean down, I think, to kiss me. Instead, you murmur harshly into my ear, “You’re going to trust that there is a good explanation for all this and you are going to wait to hear it until I’m ready to tell it to you. But right now, we are both going to get what we’ve both wanted for this whole week.”
I sigh, relax, submit.

OCCD

It's been over 24 hours since I've done anything to contact Mon Parrain. I went completely overboard and OCCD last night until I started mixing all kinds of old prescription medicines, which were probably so long expired that whatever effect they had on me was from their being expired not their actual chemical properties. Then, once my grandma got up and directed me to the cabinet with the GOOD drugs, I took an ambien CR, which is supposed to be a controlled release for 8 hours, but, mixed with the other drugs lasted me about 16 hours. Then, it was to the hospital so see Grandpa for the last hour of visiting hours and then I hung out with Sir, just bullshitting for hours on end. I do have to admit that my lack of contact for these 24+ hours has had a great deal less to do with self-control (of which we know I have NONE) and more to do with drugs and other people, but I still did it. And I'm going to try to do it each day from now on. If he wants me, he knows where I am and how I feel. Until then: My name is Ava and I have OCCD. It has been 1 day since I have obsessively contacted my last ex (?)-lover.

I should also add the disclaimer that it helped me to get a sexy text message last night from a sexy woman expressing her sexy thoughts about me. That definately helped make Mon Parrain a more distant memory. In fact, I'm thinking I need a psuedonym for her as well....

Just a note about the previous post....

Just a note about the previous post....

I had written it (the old fashioned way, by hand, in the journal I carry with me) while I was at the hospital very early Friday morning waiting for the doctor to come by on his regular rounds so that I could then go home and relay what he had to say to my grandmother, who couldn't go because her back was hurting her too bad. But, as doctors never show up when you think they will, I had plenty of time to write that. Then, when I got home, I typed it up for the blog. Of course, I got interupted by a phone call, leaving it up on the computer screen. I can't really blame my grandmother for reading it, because that is exactly what I would have done if I was in her shoes. But what really irritated me was that, first, she insisted that I print it off so that she could keep it and show it to everyone she knew, and, second, that she thought it was all about how pretty I think her garden is. I think she missed the point of it. Oh well.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Throwing Pennies in a Wishing Well

A spectacularly sad Friday night. No plans. Stuck at my grandmother's house, I've taken the task of organizing and creating a safe open space in my grandfather's room, in the vain hope that he'll need it if he ever gets well enough to come home from the hospital. I've been at it all afternoon. I"m mostly done and taking a break out on the back patio with an ice cold Smirnoff Ice and a smoldering Camel. I contemplate what I'll do after this. It's only five pm and I have the rest of a lonely Friday night to kill. I decide I'd rather not think about the long night ahead of me, instead focusing on the lengthening shadows of my grandmother's myriad plants and bushes across her green lawn.

My reverie is broken by the scraping of the metal fence gate against the paving stones. There you are, still dressed the part of the young Republican, not having changed after work. I'd given up on you after a week without contact, without even responding to my pleas for contact, without even answering my phone calls. I'd given up on you after a week without contact, without even enswering my phone calls. It seems presumptuous of you to think that I'd be here and be alone on a Friday night. But I am and so I guess it doesn't matter.

I don't speak, at a loss as to whether I want to be upset with you or overjoyed that the prodigal lover has returned. I don't get up either. Your smile seems bittersweet. Your eyes give away the sad, weary, difficult week you've had. I know you want me to return your smile but all I can manage is a weak sigh, the edges of my lips turned up.

You kneel in front of my green plastic lawn chair. I'm reminded of that first night, making out in your car, you kneeling in front of the passenger seat where I was, kissing me, touching me. I can't withhold from you any longer. I put my arms around you and you rest your weary head against my chest, your strong arms pulling me closer. You pull your head back slightly to kiss me, tender and probing. We kiss for a long time.

Silently, you stand up, taking me by the hand. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you have plans for us. It might just be a movie or it might be an extravagent night on the town. I don't know and I don't care. Right now, I'd follow you anywhere. Anywhere that will get you away from your heavy burden and me away from mine. My only hope is that it ends with us falling into a deep fulfilling sleep in each other's arms.

Thursday, July 05, 2007

Deleting You

Deleting you from my phone might be a little overly dramatic. But I think it is appropriate. Telling you in my last call that this would be the last time I contacted you might also have been a little overly dramatic. But I think it was also appropriate. You've told me twice in the past that you don't just disappear on people and I don't just disappear on people either. There is a woman who I used to be friends with who's number I still keep on my cell phone, just in case I someday think that we are both mature enough to have a friendship again. But what you have done is worse than disappearing. You have put effort into ignoring and dodging me. If you cared enough to want me in your life in some way, you would have taken the 30 seconds it takes to send a quick e-mail, letting me know if things were ok or not and how much time you would need to figure that you. If fact, I have specifically stated multiple times that that is all it would take to put me at ease and for me to leave you completely alone for that period of time that you needed. But I am obviously not important enough to warrant the 30 seconds it would take you to give me some kind of a re-assurance, or even a brush off. You'd rather dodge my phone calls and ignore my texts and e-mails. This is not to say that I don't appreciate that you are going through a major life change here and that I wouldn't understand if you just said, "Hey, I thought I could start this affair with you but because of what just happened in my life, I can't right now." I also know that you had a very full life even before I came around, even before this major life change occured in your life. But I asked, nay, begged for the assurance that I wanted and needed and, instead, you chose to spend that energy ignoring and dodging me. So I'm not going to contact you again. I'm not going to chase after you. I have enough drama and stress in my life without worrying about why you don't like me enough answer the phone when I call. I have tons of easy answers for why a person wouldn't like me enough not to answer when I call and one really easy answer why they wouldn't just have the balls to come out and tell me that.

Unfortunately, deleting you from my phone does not delete you from my head. I still have your phone number memorized and your e-mail address is to easy to forget. I'll still breathlessly stare at my phone's screen when any text comes in or when a phone call comes in on the general ringtone, because it just might be you. I'll even hold my breath when I pull onto my street, hoping and praying that you might be uber-romantic and be sitting in your car in front of my house, waiting for me to come home. I'll also hold my breath anytime my car is parked outside and I know you are off from work and I hear a car door shut somewhere outside, thinking it might be you. And I won't read a D/s fantasy without putting us in those respective roles. And I would leap back into your arms any moment you chose to show up.

But I'm still deleting you. And I'm still left feeling like I've been had. When I was choosing a pseudonym for you, it finally came down to "mon parrain"= my sponsor/godfather or "mon piege"=my trap. Because of all the possibilities you opened up to me, I chose the former, but now I feel like I should have chosen the latter. I fell into a trap where I let myself believe that all the good things that I wanted to be I already was or could become. But it wasn't true. "Anyone perfect must be lying, anything easy has it's cost, anyone plain can be lovely, anyone loved can be lost."-BNL

So I guess let me know if you ever want to be undeleted.

Breaking Hearts

I've been meaning to post this for all my friends who are right now in this situation. I know both people who are the singer of this song and the person that the song is sung to. And, in different situations, I've been both as well (though not at the same time). For those who are the singer, they rarely feel as unambivalent about the situation as the song states. They often just don't want to make the mistake of leaving too soon when they are really making the mistake of staying way, way, way too long. And for those that the song is sung to, I hope that you can all be as stong and resilent as the song puts it. It's much better to be alone than with someone who doesn't want you. I'll keep repeating that to myself everytime I wonder if I'm not currently in the situation of being the one the song is sung to. Bonne chance to all of you.

Break Your Heart- Barenaked Ladies
The bravest thing I've ever done
Was to run away and hide
But not this time, not this time
And the weakest thing I've ever done
Was to stay right by your side
Just like this time, and every time
I couldn't tell you I was happy when you were gone
So I lied and said that I missed you when we were apart
I couldn't tell you, so I had to lead you on
But I didn't mean to break your heart

And if I always seem distracted
Like my minds somewhere else
That's because it's true, yes it's true
it's this stupid pride that makes me feel
Like I have to follow through
Even half-assedly, loving you
Why must I always speak in terms of cowardice?
When I guess I should have just come out and told you right from the start
Why must I always tell you all I want is this?
I guess 'cause I didn't want to break your heart

And you said
What'd you think that I was gonna do,
Curl up and die just because of you?
I'm not that weak, you know
What'd you think that I was gonna do,
Try to make you love me as much as I love you?
How could you be so low?
You arrogant man,
What do you think that I am?
My heart will be fine
Just stop wasting my time

And now I know that you will be okay, and that I got what I want
and that's rid of you
Good bye
And it's not cause I'll be missing you
That makes me fall apart
It's just that I didn't mean to break
No I didn't mean to break
No I didn't mean to break
Your heart
http://youtube.com/watch?v=Z4kqQpbb66Y