unsent letter


Sex is a vulnerable ritual that creates veil-rending pleasure.  I see God, in the transcendent union.  The glitter of God shines for me, intoxicating me, while I’m being penetrated by someone, coming for someone, envaginating someone, making them come, giving myself completely.

Sex is about ecstatic intimacy for me, but most people don’t see it that way.  I’m a strangely religious person, especially about sex and love.  Yesterday I realized that if I ever had sex with you, it would have led to my heartbreak, regardless of how you felt about me or what you wanted longterm.  I’m looking for transformation–an alchemy, something turned to gold.


To you, sex is more of an itch to scratch, one animal need among several.  You could enjoy pleasure and be kind, but to you, sex is not an act of complete offering.  I would have offered my body and life before you, to please you, as the God you are.  Unlikely that you would have done similar for me, offering your body to me, as if I were a Goddess.  To drown in the ecstasy of my being.

And your trauma is something you uncomfortably move away from–to you, sexual need is a drive you’d rather not have.  While to me, it’s the most intense way I care and get cared for by another person.  That intimacy is the goal of my life.  Sex is how to collaborate with a deeply trusted person to enter an ecstatic state, leaving behind the everyday.  The bed is a temple, and the rites are for real.

When I imagine you having sex with me, even in the best of fantasies, the afterward is you disengaging almost immediately–turning over, getting up to take a shower, falling dead asleep.  I would have had this life-shaking experience of giving myself to you, and you would need to do something different right away.  Enlightenment though sex isn’t something you asked me to try.


That makes sense because I remember long ago, when we met, how nuts I was about you, but confused by your lack of sexuality.  The first thing I told my closest friend about you was how I thought you were probably gay.  Then I fell in love with you.  It was a confusing ride, and I’m glad to step off.  Too unproductively mysterious.

The amount of clarity and communication you gave me was pathetic.  I tried to stay open to your uncertainty, but after a while, it wasn’t livable.  Who is this person?  What does he really want?  How can I fit in with his life plans?

Guessing is not for me.  I always felt like I was trying not to rush you to decide, plan, know yourself, and tell me your truth.  It was a sad feeling, to be ready for you, while you seemed ready for nothing!  Or ready for distraction.

In a way, I knew you very well.  But the parts of you that were completely walled off to me–what was behind there?  I thought you wanted to do love, and I thought love included that act of revealing.  I kept waiting for you to slip off your mask and be a self that would take my breath away.


You have many selves, but I never met the God-scented one I sensed there, supreme.  The big boss who would have connected with me, with an honesty I never got.  The parts of you who arrived when I knocked on your door could joke, make beautiful art, dance, promise, and had the best wordplay.  Better than anyone else’s!  But your truth eluded me, ever darting away when the light shone upon it.

Riddles are cool, but there comes a time to set that aside.  Finally at the end you did that, and it was a thrill, to talk with you without joking.  You were finally real with me.  I hope?  But all so I could learn you didn’t want what I wanted at all.  Stuff I should have known from the beginning, to keep my needs grounded in reality.  I wish I had learned it before the very end, to make me give up, because I realized I was wasting my time.


You are a miracle, and I still imagine what you didn’t want to do with me.  I guess someone else will get all that.  They’ll hit the jackpot, and the gold will flow out of you, finally revealed.  Or maybe it will stay inside you always, and your corpse will rot to dust, the boulder of gold stuck in the earth.  Regardless, I put down my bucket and walked away.

Thank you for what I learned.  You were wonderful to long for.  Your God-ness was a pleasure to guess at, for a long time.


By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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