I think about power all day. Capitalism and money, how people relate in families, friendship, workplaces.
I think about power in any organization where people might give up power intentionally, in hopes of receiving something in return such as protection. Governments, churches, alliances between organization.
I even think about power with animals. If someone has a dog–the domestication of dogs, how freedom was traded for security? Or pigeons trying to mate. The puffed up male is chasing the female, who scurries away over and over again. Why do they do that? Will she eventually decide yes? Or will he eventually pigeon-rape her? Will he burn off excess energy, and then find a mate who’s willing? Maybe that was just a show, and the actual sex will happen another way.
I think of power in marriages, partnerships, other relationships. When two people have kids, the power can change. Or if two people who have kids separate and want to divorce, judge and lawyers can be involved, and who gets what.
Power and race, power and gender, power and disability. But I was thinking about power and sex in my own life.
My spouse and I get along well–power feels equal. We have some different tasks, like he does certain chores consistently. I plan trips. He drives. I state needs and come up with ideas. He carries my chair to the driveway so I can get some sun.
Emotionally, I seem to feel a lot more. I feel a huge range, include elation and excitement. But I get my feelings hurt way more easily than he does. So he spends a lot more time comforting me than I spend comforting him.
He might say something rude, or he doesn’t call when he says he will, so I feel hurt and disregarded. He spends time helping me see what happened and how I’m ok. That kind of conversation can be taxing, but it can also be connecting and and insightful. It’s part of love.
I need different things than my spouse does–I need clarity, consistency, follow-through. I need word-based kindness, like for him to thank me explicitly, with words. And I prefer to be touched a lot, and to have sex at least every day.
He needs things like fairness, not to be left out, to be thanked. He has issues with physical objects, so he needs to feel safe around that, to know I won’t mess with his stuff. I have total respect for his stuff and never mess with any of it. And he needs for me to let him handle certain tasks, so he can keep his anxiety lower, knowing the tasks will be done right by him.
We both need patience, smiles, fun, jokes. Lots of help and space around our disabilities. Kindness, trust, good intentions, generosity. We’re skilled at giving those things to one another.
Resentment kills love, so we try to be upfront about what we need. Both of us know that’s really important–to be flexible, but we need to keep on eye on what can be compromised and what can’t.
In bed, I suck his dick all the time. That feels like loving him, honoring him, and doing something wonderful for him, kindly. But I get off on blowjobs too. It’s hot, beautiful, and I get incredibly wet, especially when he pushes his dick down my throat. I gag; the slippery spit arrives. Then my throat relaxes, he pushes it deeper, and the used feeling is amazing.
I enter a different mentality that’s extremely pleasurable. So my cunt is aching with desire, my mentality is deliciously otherworldly–I guess I enter subspace. It’s a sensory joy, his thick hard cock sliding in and out of me. Feeling its ridges with my lips, sliding on my tongue. Or just some brute force of my throat being harshly fucked. It’s a physical honor.
I don’t like him to go down on me, lately. So that’s never balanced. Power and sex go together!
In real life, I want to be treated as an equal–I want to actually be equal with him. But during sex, I often want him to dominate me, tell me what to do, hurt me, and pretend-force me to do things. There’s a big distinction between what’s real life and what’s play for a purpose.
In a lot of relationships I see, there’s domination, submission, name-calling, and someone being forced. But it’s not in the bedroom–the power imbalance is real, full-time.
My parents, for example. My mom was a strong, brilliant woman. But my dad abused her, and she took it, for around 40 years. She could see what was happening, but she thought this was her lot in life. She had married my dad, promising forever to him, and family was her priority.
Mistakenly, she thought she could sacrifice herself for the well-being of her family, and that would work out for us. She thought she could absorb all the force. If she prayed enough, her anger at what was being done to her would dissipate–Jesus calmed her, so she could get up, wipe her angry tears, and take abuse another day.
Of course abuse isn’t good for anyone, including the abuser, or the kids who are along for the ride. My mom believed that if she left my dad, he would kill himself. Then he did kill himself eventually, overdosing in their shared bed.
She worked so hard to keep her family going, at her expense, not realizing it was actually at the expense of all of us. If my brother and I end up killing ourselves, because the violence we endured fucked our heads so badly, she will have failed.
My brother is on his way to his own overdose, and I thought I was out of the woods a few years ago. I feel less sure now.
tax money meme
This tax money meme made me laugh, and I have some questions about it, pertaining to power and sex. What happened to part of that h? Why tax refunds first? I don’t make enough money to pay taxes.
I guess the meme-maker has the idea that we deserve appreciation from our culture, for giving so much dick-sucking love. How does our culture show appreciation? Hmm, I’m stumped. An award, a special sash to wear at graduation, a gold watch at retirement, a tip, a raise, a Christmas bonus. Your name in the program–your name on a brick.
Money represents power. So maybe appreciation could be handing power back to the ones who gave our power away. It’s meaningful, time spent on our knees or otherwise subjugated.
But having my spouse’s dick down my throat is another kind of power. He’s incapacitated with ecstasy, and I’m holding a vulnerable part of his body between my teeth. His trust, though totally appropriate, is a thrill, and the sensation of dick sliding into my slippery throat. Yes, I like power and sex with my entire body.