ten ways to love

Do you have the relationships you want?  Are you getting the love variety you need?  There are more than ten things that make me feel loved.  But I thought I would make this list as a start–ten ways to love.  Please consider loving me in these ways, if you get the chance.


I need to be hugged a lot.  Breathing with someone, my breasts on them, my tummy maybe, my arms around them.  Proximity, togetherness, usually just a moment.

I might smell their hair, feel their heart beat.  The texture of their clothes, how they hold on, how nervous they are.

I enjoy friend hugs, relative hugs–the hugs from my spouse are exceptionally good.  Hugs that produce a caring feeling or sexual longing, hugs that help me feel safe.  Even tokens, technical hugs.

I’ll hug just about anyone.  I like long hugs that I can relax into.  When I first meet someone, I like hugging them cautiously, then getting comfortable with them and a sense of what they want and are willing to give.

panic to pleasure

I have a friend who used to panic me with her hugs–I felt scared, the hugs were so long.  Mostly it was because I felt guilty, my cunt aching as she hugged me, my nipples hard.  Fear would rise in my chest, and I would struggle to get away–she would keep holding on, which gave me a trapped feeling.  Ack, what are you doing?

Now I get solid footing, hold her against me, try to relax, and let the hug happen as she wants it.  I feel her, body and soul, and let the closeness nourish me.  For that moment, I’m totally with her.

The fifth time or so, I understood she was loving me this way, and it was ok, however I felt and however my body reacted.  She wanted it, and I was allowed to want it too.

Now I like hugging with her.  It’s like sex but safer, briefer, and with less expectation.  I love her, and I know she loves me.  We’re part of each others lives, to the degree that we are.

A quick hug, a long hug that releases oxytocin, a congrats hug, a crying hug, an I missed you hug.  Awkward “should we nod, shake hands, or hug?” hugs–I like them all.


When I want to say something to someone, it feels special.  For a while, years back, I didn’t talk.  I didn’t think I was valid or anyone cared, so I didn’t see a reason to talk.  Now I have a deep need to share.

I feel loved when someone listens to me, by reading my writing, letting me direct letters, txts, or emails to them, hearing my spoken aloud words in person or on the phone.  Listening is such a good way to connect.


It feels vulnerable, to collaborate.  How will we interact, how will we problem solve, will they be kind to me?  Can I be kind to them, the way they need kindness?

Will they give me space to be who I am?  What if we don’t like the finished product?  Will this help or harm our friendship?

I had a bad experience collaborating, years ago.  The other person changed my words, thinking he knew better.  He was trying to help.  But I was furious, and I panicked, needing to read everything over, trying to find other places where he changed something.  That’s my nightmare!

I said, “I will never collaborate with anyone, ever again, for the rest of my life!  Mark my words!”  The experience stressed me, and it’s a factor in why I don’t talk to this guy or his girlfriend anymore.  The final product was actually pretty good, but it wasn’t worth it.

Some people I ask to do art for a project, and it’s a true need, not a test.  But it can function as a test.  Will they follow through, will it really happen, are they a flake, are they a perfectionist and will never finish.  Like traveling with someone, I can learn a lot.

Please collaborate with me, and follow through with what you say you will do.  I’ll feel loved and so happy we made something together, something we needed each other for.

Maybe that one time is enough, or maybe we could collaborate on bigger or different things, throughout our friendship.



I had a friend I longed for, so enchanted.  Once I tried to be his good friend, and it didn’t work out–he didn’t make time for me.  I thought he was so smart and sexy.  Yeow!  My lust for him was intense.

About eight years after we met, he finally was ready to try being good friends with me–how did he decide?  We went out for brunch, and we started txting a lot and getting together often.

He had an anger problem, and I wanted him to hurt me with his anger, in a bdsm kind of way.  One night I txted him, “I want you to fuck me like you’re trying to kill something,” which got a reaction.  We considered, proposed ideas, negotiated, and danced around, figuring out what we wanted.

My spouse and I talked about it.  My friend talked about it with his long-term partner.  Lots of communication.  He had fears–I was about to move away, and he had some specific mental health challenges that were tripping him up, related to his past violence.

how it went

We ended up becoming cuddle buddies.  That worked really well.  I would come over, mostly when his girlfriend was out, and we would sit on his couch and cuddle so blissfully.

We would hold hands, lean on each other.  The first time or two, I would stroke his arms, pet his head, and many non-sex touches.  But it was too much.  The contact became more just holding hands, or he’d have his arm around me, or I’d have my arm around him.

He would sit on the couch with his legs on my legs, perpendicular.  I would look at his socked feet.  Sometimes he would get sleepy and say, “I’m getting sleepy.”

I would say, “It’s ok if you fall asleep.”

Then I moved away.  My spouse and I came to visit and stayed in his guest room.  He and I were alone together on the couch again, and he tried to cuddle me.  I stiffened and wanted none of it.

Why did I react that way?  No idea!  I didn’t want that from him anymore.  If we had talked about it beforehand, I might have had a different reaction.  I was surprised–I thought that time was over, and I would have had to think about it, to figure out if I wanted more.

That’s an example–I’ve had other cuddle buddies.  It’s a good middle place–I love the liminal.

tell me how you like me

I love clarity.  Words can be so good for a declaration that helps me feel safe, wanted, and more free.  If you told me you liked me and why,  would be so happy.  Or any way I had helped you.

If you told me what you want with me, such as to be my friend for a long time, or to be really close to me, or to do a certain activity with me, like take a trip to Thailand or teach me how to make your family’s tortilla recipe, wow.  That would be exhilarating.

Even if it was more limiting, that would be good too.  If you defined you did not want to have sex with me, or if you said you could never live with me for whatever reason, I could plan accordingly.

I like clarity even when it’s not the message I’d prefer to hear.  I definitely choose a day of pain, as I hear you’re not interested in whatever, than years of confused wanting.

Things definitely change, and I know a sentence can be untrue the moment after it’s spoken.  But a sentence can be such a lovely treat.


I’m busy having sex with my spouse, but I would like someone else to have sex with too.  It’s been a while!

Someone with different disabilities, hopefully.  Different parts might be nice.  But even same-named parts, the parts can be so different.

A dick could be long, kind, generous, attentive, beautiful, persistent, like my spouse’s.  Or it could be demanding, fickle, confusing, angry, ugly…  It could be huge, more or less sensitive, circumcised or un…  Dicks can taste all different ways.

Balls, definitely, can feel different ways.  My spouse’s semen is lovely and usually delicious.  Some semen is way too thick, or other weird stuff I’d rather not contain.  Takes me a while to be good with somebody’s semen.

I define sex as an intentional, consensual, significant exchange of erotic energy.  So I’ve had sexual moments with people besides my spouse, these past eight years, like at the hot springs or in a tent, but no actual complete sex.

I would like phone sex, maybe letter sex?  In person sex, with someone who lives in the same town as me, and conversations about what we want, how often, being safer, longer term ideas about the relationship.

Vacation sex could be possible, with someone who lives elsewhere.  Not sure how I’d fare, emotionally.  We’d need to try.

birthdaybirthday sex

I have a specific request that my spouse touch, lick, and suck my nipples for an hour.  I would like to try to come that way–I never have.

He said yes.  I said we could try different positions so his body wouldn’t get too sore.  I’d like to trust him to care for himself–I could just relax, selfishly enjoying the attention.

note: Birthday sex doesn’t need to be on anyone’s birthday.


I thought gifts were petty, something about money.  I didn’t want physical objects; cookies were ok, something that could be consumed.  But I didn’t want clutter in my life.

There were many years I wouldn’t buy books either.  I said, “Nope!  Library only!”  It was only recently that I softened that policy. Most of the books I want to read are not in our local library system.

I changed my mind, on gifts!  A physical object can be so comforting.  It could be symbolic, like a ring can sometimes symbolize a bond or commitment.  Or helpful, like a long-armed stapler or food.  It could be soul-nourishing, like a gorgeous plant that grows and blooms.

I loved someone far away who knit me a bag.  It was dark blue with a gray stripe.  I would hold that bag, bring it to bed with me, examine it over and over, pet it, touch the stripe and the strap, look at the stitches, look for mistakes.  Smell it, rub it on my cheek.  Press it to my heart.


That would be so nice of you.  I have a letter from someone I love on my desk.  When I look for something, I come across it, see the handwriting, re-read it with special attention to the closing and how he wrote his name.

Did he love me then?  Maybe he didn’t love me yet.  Did he say what he wanted to say?  That’s not what I thought his handwriting would look like–at all!  Did he want to write this?  Maybe he felt obligated to include a note with the other stuff he was sending.

A letter could be one of hundreds, on cheap dollar store notecard.  It can be a masterpiece in a handmade little book made of handmade paper, written in fountain pen.  Or it could be a love letter, or a letter telling a specific tale.  It could be an everyday letter or a birthday letter.  I love them all.

media offerings

I don’t want to burden anyone with links, a youtube song I thought they might like, an article I read that blew my mind and thought might nicely blow theirs also.

If I send you those things, it’s because I thought of you lovingly.  I wanted you to have it too.  I’m sorry if it’s too much.  Please see all that as invitation–I’d rather you attend, but it’s ok if you can’t.  I’d let you know, if I had a sincere request pertaining to a specific thing.

what do you think?

Do you like to be loved these ways?  Feel free to comment with what makes you feel loved.  I have some ways I didn’t discuss.

  • making a specific request and having it fulfilled
  • going on a journey together
  • being present for special days, like holidays and anniversaries
  • being present for a transformative event, such as the birth of a child
  • writing a poem
  • doing a ritual together
  • supporting someone through a crisis.

I get almost everything I need, glad to have my eggs in several baskets.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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