Is it possible that a family has something rotten at its core? My family has something like a horror movie woven into the cloth. I don’t want to use the word “evil.” More like diseased. But that sounds like an ableist metaphor. Is this rotten-ness real, and if so, what do I do about it?
My spouse and I were on a long car drive, playing driving games. Suddenly I remembered a years-forgotten game I made up when I was young. You have to rank five things. I asked my spouse to rank these five things by sexual preference. smacking my ass by hand smacking my ass by flogger consent-non-consent
I love queer sex, and am not keen on straight sex. But maybe it’s a false distinction? That’s what I’m pondering today. I think of queer sex as dynamic–it changes mid-scene and over the years creative–we have to do different things than insert a tab into a slot showing up as my whole self transformative–it
As you prepare to leave, I prepare to live without you. You’ll always be in my heart, but maybe never again in my day-to-day life. I’m pondering our whole friendship. These are sweet memories of my favorite times with you. hand massage At the meeting when I invited you to massage my hands, was it
About a third of the way through having sex with my spouse yesterday, I started crying. It was such intense, beautiful sex–I didn’t want to derail it with down emotions. Crying during sex is becoming a thing, lately. I know why–it’s partly the validation need I was talking about last post. As things change in
I’ve thought of sex as validation for much of my life. Yes–sex as validation physically with the body. Another person decided I am good enough to fuck. Their body is slamming into mine in an explicit, hungry way–I know I matter to them. These intense sensations and feelings shared mean something. To me, they mean
Here’s a list of my sex gratitude. respect Thank you for caring about my well-being, pleasure, and safety. Thank you for caring about my whole life including before you arrived on the scene, and if there’s time that I live without you. Your responsible kindness–in bed and outside of bed–makes me want you. I want
Dear friend, this is why they broke up with you. scary That confidence that makes bosses promote you to supervisor is what makes you scary to argue with. You hold beliefs with rigid certainty that crushes others. Your confidence is lack of curiosity, which is chilling. Love means caring what the other person thinks and
I’ve had chronic pain for decades. But I’m a hippie of some kind–I avoid pharmaceutical drugs if I can. Yesterday was my first time taking tylenol for sex. I’m sorry it came to that. But I was in too much pain to cum, and it had been about a week since orgasm, much longer than
He was wearing new pants, bright and colorful. He bought them at an Asian import store in town, mostly Nepali, on a whim. Usually my spouse wears dude clothes, dressed as a hiker, with REI style nylon outdoorsy cargo pants and cotton tee shirts, earth tones, with hiker-style shoes. So these bright rainbow cotton hippie