The silk of the thin scarf feels extra good on my vulnerable breasts, and the yellow gives me pleasure also, which must be pretend. It’s not like my skin can really feel the yellow. But my soul feels it, responding with a yellow glow of its own.
My breasts are my favorite part of my body–sexy squishy beautiful soft comfort, magical goodness, to feed a baby who will never exist. My nipples are pretty and sensitive. Really I cannot say enough good about my breasts. Other people seem to like them also.
A month or so ago, I took some naked-ish pics that I sent to a few friends, with their consent. Their reactions were a huge emotional deal, for me. The experience was slightly painful–the reactions were not what I wanted. But I couldn’t specify beforehand what I wanted, because I had never done that before and didn’t know.
I checked in with a friend, if it was ok, and she said yes to receiving the photos. Then I emailed them to her. Her response was brief and mild. I had thought the pics were extremely pretty. So I felt sad that I had done something that felt really vulnerable and got a very small return.
I felt a wincing, cringing sadness and was like–oh, that’s not what I wanted to happen. I didn’t know I needed something until I didn’t get it. Probably a lot of people did this when they were young; sharing naked pics was new to me. Probably my friends didn’t know I had never done that before.
The other friend, similar–seemed like nothing to him, but it was huge, to me. I felt like I had given these people a thousand dollars, and they acted like I had give them a cold french fry from the bottom of my drive thru bag. The smallness of the reaction surprised me. I thought I was giving them a hunk of gold, but they acted like I was giving them a crumpled gold foil bottle cap.
No friend has ever sent naked pics to me, so I don’t have experience with receiving side of it either. Any time I saw friends naked in porn or pics, it was an accident, not something given specifically to me.
This pic of these breasts of mine, covered by yellow silk scarf, I am just putting on my blog. It’s not personal to anyone, which is safer. I’m not going to get my feelings hurt, this time. It’s not about love.
I care a lot, and sometimes it hurts when I feel not that cared for in reply. Crying tonight, not about those pics a month ago–other aspects of love, that I have given, and not received similar.
Some say, “Unrequited love is childish,” and blow it off as a kid’s irrelevant error. But I’m not a kid, and I feel really glad that I can feel a fuckton of feelings. That’s a gift, but you know how gifts are.