If your sense of who is sexually attractive is based on advertising from when you were eight years old, it might be time to reevaluate that. I know people who their pinnacle of sexual beauty is based on commercials they saw thirty or forty years ago.
I get left out of that, since the way I look was portrayed as desirable in zero commercials ever. That’s a lot of people who are missing out on me. Not that I want to be chased. Just respected and honored for who I am.
I got a letter yesterday from a friend. I was in love with him, years ago, which led to the demise of the long relationship. He had a weird unexpected reaction to me telling him I loved him. I didn’t mean I loved him like I wanted to have sex with him, though by then I did.
It was more that I felt a deep bond with him. He was sacred, to me. I was devoted to him, and his well-being was super important to me. He was extraordinarily valuable to me.
Felt like time to say that. We’d been talking every day for more than a year, and love felt like an accurate read on what we were doing. I stand by it still.
But when I said I loved him, I guess he panicked, and I was really confused. Turned out when my spouse and I visited him, that last time, it harmed a relationship he was having with someone there, that I didn’t even know about. That lady he was seeing stopped seeing him, partly related to me being there.
I had no idea that was going on, and I really wish he had just told me not to visit. The communication was poor, intentionally. He was chronically homeless, and people would sometimes want to date him on the sly? Were they embarrassed, to date someone homeless?
I feel sad, I loved him more than just about anything. And he would not date me, or even be ok with me loving him. But he would date people who were ashamed of him. He had a problem with being loved, and I had no idea I’d activate that trauma.
seven years off
Anyway, we took seven years off our friendship. He stopped speaking to me, because I was stressing him out, mostly by loving him. He said he did not love me back. I was like–ok. Well, you have a funny way of showing it, by talking to me every day for a year, and being friends with me long distance for around five years. What’s love, if not this?
The ways we talked were not “what’s the weather like there?” We talked about ideas, feelings, things we read, our pasts. Consistently, we inquired about the well-being of one another. He was one of my closest friends, so I was shocked when he cut me off without a word.
Being friends again is weird, because the old stuff never really got resolved. I’m not in love with him nowadays and don’t want to have sex with him. But we’re supposed to visit next week, and I’m scared that seeing him again, I will fall in love with him again. My heart is pretty wild and active, to say the least.
I got this letter from him yesterday, handed to me by my spouse. I was overjoyed to see his handwriting, so happy until I turned it over. On the back was a YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL sticker, which probably came from me. I began to cry right away. I ached with pain.
Was he telling me I was beautiful? No, it was just a sticker. He doesn’t think I’m beautiful. That’s part of the whole problem. If I was pretty to him, maybe I would have had a chance–a chance that he could have loved me.
To me, beauty is way more than some symmetrical facial features, broad shoulders, big tits. Or a car or anything. But to him, I think women are pretty tempting sex objects to scheme after, or matronly helpful assistants who can be partly trusted and spoken with, but never desired.
It’s not that I want him to think I’m beautiful now. At the moment, I don’t need that from him at all. I’m trying to do a tame, chill friendship with him. When I get excited by the ideas we’re talking about, I tell myself to relax.
When I made him a necklace, to give him when we see him next week, I didn’t put it on my altar to bless it, kiss it, or pray as I strung the beads. But maybe it’s hopeless.
Who is sexually attractive is very mysterious! All the elements can be in place, and I will not fall in love. Or it could make no sense, for me to want someone, but there I am, panting with lust, out of my mind.
Not saying we have the responsibility to make sense, in who we love or who is sexually attractive to us. But if you’re stuck with the sexual intelligence of a child, you might wanna examine that. So much of what we’re taught is about power–keeping the established power structure in place, at the expense of many people like me.
Expose yourself to new types of beauty, try a different kind of porn than usual, ask yourself what you really think about disabled people, fat people, old people. Then calmly listen to your own answers. Is that the person you want to be?
You don’t need to get egalitarian about who you want to fuck. It’s not about fairness at all. But if I had stayed stuck in a child’s understanding of what’s appealing–as fed to me by television, magazines, movies, my family–I would be dead by now. I would have killed myself, one way or another, if I’d continued to believe what I was told–that I was worthless and irrelevant.
I didn’t have the luxury of sticking to what I was taught. Growing up is about transcending that.
boners for all
Who is sexually attractive? The kindest, most creative, and most sparkly, for sure. Pretty hair and hands and voice can help, and nice dancing.
If you never had a boner for someone blind or who uses crutches to walk, or someone fat as a manatee like me, or a brilliant elder, maybe you’re missing out. You might consider checking yourself. Who is sexually attractive could be more varied than you think.
Watching fat people dance is always an option!