I find that when sexuality is wielded like a weapon that it sickens me. Similarly, when it is used as a crutch (like alcohol or drugs) it sickens me. When the girls / women who I have shared a bed with act in great discomfort of their own beautiful bodies it makes me sad.
Sex is not a weapon. It's the physical manifestation of a gut feeling.
To me, 'sexy' is based on the inexplicable overlap of character and chemicals that happens between people... the odd sense that you have something primal in common with another person whom you may love, or you may barely even like, that can only be expressed through the physical and psychological exchange that is sex.
I've never wanted anything from any of my partners other for them to be themselves. I have found that in all circumstances, I have the clarity of perception and cognizance to see through the facade of insecurities that other guys have overlooked. Where they see a dominant sexual creature, I see an insecure girl; where they demand a blow job, delivered with tears streaming down her cheeks, I hear her confession and let her know that she is setting the pace. Or, if she pushes me away from trying to please her, I don't let it go, I push the issue until one night, a few months later, she'll pull me into her by the hair and demand that I make her feel good.
Almost every girl that I have been with has been fucked-up sexually in some way. They act out against it in ways that are so painfully obvious and cliched that you just want to sit down with them and point it out over a cup of hot chocolate so that they can move on with their lives. Or, you can ignore it, but then, what is the point of finding that chemical lock-in, if they are just pretending to be something that they are not?
If we believed that we were sexy and funny and competent and smart, we would not need to be like strippers or even like men or like anyone other than our own specific, individual selves.
Whether you choose to believe it or not, girls and women are assaulted with a preconceived notion of what they should be and how they should act and very often, it is contrary to what would be natural, true to them and ultimately, more satisfying.
There are so many open questions in my sexuality right now. Not the least of which is being involved in a relationship on uncertain terms that explodes in ferocious sexuality most of the times that we are together. Further complicated by the fact that complete intimacy is a near impossibility when you date a nude model. Sure, it's not a big deal, but that's the problem. You can choose to treat it like it's not a big deal and then you don't ravish the kind of attention on the beautiful girl that she deserves OR you can treat it like it is a big deal and get pissed-off or jealous everytime some guy with a camera takes nude photos of her and tries to pick her up. Where is the middle-ground?
It's not a sense of prudishness either. I was a nude model on and off for almost two years. In a sense, her openness (as well as mine) allows a greater exploration of our mutual sexuality and the potential to do the kind of things that most people usually just fantasize about (and doing, rather than dreaming has always been a hobby of mine). But, at the same time, how do you suppress the old-fashioned gut that can't truly get a grasp on what is essentially an intimate, excellent friendship with respectful and passionate sex because it does not fit into the standard "gentleman and a lady" type of chivalrous relationship that I subconsciously aspire to?
How can I be simultaneously offended and turned-on? How can I look at her in awe and in dissapointment when it's the same issue at hand? Is there no way to resolve this hypocriticism besides pushing forward and embracing that with which I was not previously comfortable? It's a hypocriticism that runs both ways though. My jealously at her flirtatious nature is a mark against me for not being trusting enough even though any sign of interest I would even consider for another living female would be met with bared teeth and flared nostrils. My reactions are childish, but below the surface, it's clear that neither of us can have everything we want without compromise.
She can't flirt so freely, relying on the appraisal of others when mine is not enough and expect me to lay the world at her feet and I can't expect her in my bed every night with no certainty that she will ever mean more to me with each passing day. This girl is not entry-level, most guys on this site probably think that she is because all they see is nude pictures and the thinly-veiled journal entries and the slightly inviting one-of-the-guys humor, but my ability to see through that and challenge it is why I have lasted. This, along with her ability to make me feel comfortable in nearly any situation is the reason that this is my second-longest relationship ever (and her LONGEST).
And then you add "love" into the mix and you've got a fucking mess on your hands! How can you throw yourself completely into something, when your existing connection to everything that makes you you is so tenous that each day feels like a trial, a test of all that is distasteful to one's self as a paying of dues for a life wherein one would feel most alive. How can one set of feelings be trusted, when another, so much more powerful are completely ignored?
And, this is the kind of stuff that has been running through my head all week, when really, what I want is the sweating and the breathing and the identification of myself as an aggressive masculine creature pulling her up and throwing her around, the exchange of controlled aggression like tigers playing. The sense of living in the moment, rather than watching the situation from outside of yourself (for which, I claim to be guilty for nearly all of my sexual encounters, save for a select few). It's that singular sensation one gets when dancing: that you are acting in direct accordance with outside stimuli and you could care less what you look like while you are doing it.
In summation, I just wish she was here right now.
***
Italicized text taken from Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy
(Thanks to Aoife for the recommendation and Sapphic_Plastic for lending me her copy to read).
Sex is not a weapon. It's the physical manifestation of a gut feeling.
To me, 'sexy' is based on the inexplicable overlap of character and chemicals that happens between people... the odd sense that you have something primal in common with another person whom you may love, or you may barely even like, that can only be expressed through the physical and psychological exchange that is sex.
I've never wanted anything from any of my partners other for them to be themselves. I have found that in all circumstances, I have the clarity of perception and cognizance to see through the facade of insecurities that other guys have overlooked. Where they see a dominant sexual creature, I see an insecure girl; where they demand a blow job, delivered with tears streaming down her cheeks, I hear her confession and let her know that she is setting the pace. Or, if she pushes me away from trying to please her, I don't let it go, I push the issue until one night, a few months later, she'll pull me into her by the hair and demand that I make her feel good.
Almost every girl that I have been with has been fucked-up sexually in some way. They act out against it in ways that are so painfully obvious and cliched that you just want to sit down with them and point it out over a cup of hot chocolate so that they can move on with their lives. Or, you can ignore it, but then, what is the point of finding that chemical lock-in, if they are just pretending to be something that they are not?
If we believed that we were sexy and funny and competent and smart, we would not need to be like strippers or even like men or like anyone other than our own specific, individual selves.
Whether you choose to believe it or not, girls and women are assaulted with a preconceived notion of what they should be and how they should act and very often, it is contrary to what would be natural, true to them and ultimately, more satisfying.
There are so many open questions in my sexuality right now. Not the least of which is being involved in a relationship on uncertain terms that explodes in ferocious sexuality most of the times that we are together. Further complicated by the fact that complete intimacy is a near impossibility when you date a nude model. Sure, it's not a big deal, but that's the problem. You can choose to treat it like it's not a big deal and then you don't ravish the kind of attention on the beautiful girl that she deserves OR you can treat it like it is a big deal and get pissed-off or jealous everytime some guy with a camera takes nude photos of her and tries to pick her up. Where is the middle-ground?
It's not a sense of prudishness either. I was a nude model on and off for almost two years. In a sense, her openness (as well as mine) allows a greater exploration of our mutual sexuality and the potential to do the kind of things that most people usually just fantasize about (and doing, rather than dreaming has always been a hobby of mine). But, at the same time, how do you suppress the old-fashioned gut that can't truly get a grasp on what is essentially an intimate, excellent friendship with respectful and passionate sex because it does not fit into the standard "gentleman and a lady" type of chivalrous relationship that I subconsciously aspire to?
How can I be simultaneously offended and turned-on? How can I look at her in awe and in dissapointment when it's the same issue at hand? Is there no way to resolve this hypocriticism besides pushing forward and embracing that with which I was not previously comfortable? It's a hypocriticism that runs both ways though. My jealously at her flirtatious nature is a mark against me for not being trusting enough even though any sign of interest I would even consider for another living female would be met with bared teeth and flared nostrils. My reactions are childish, but below the surface, it's clear that neither of us can have everything we want without compromise.
She can't flirt so freely, relying on the appraisal of others when mine is not enough and expect me to lay the world at her feet and I can't expect her in my bed every night with no certainty that she will ever mean more to me with each passing day. This girl is not entry-level, most guys on this site probably think that she is because all they see is nude pictures and the thinly-veiled journal entries and the slightly inviting one-of-the-guys humor, but my ability to see through that and challenge it is why I have lasted. This, along with her ability to make me feel comfortable in nearly any situation is the reason that this is my second-longest relationship ever (and her LONGEST).
And then you add "love" into the mix and you've got a fucking mess on your hands! How can you throw yourself completely into something, when your existing connection to everything that makes you you is so tenous that each day feels like a trial, a test of all that is distasteful to one's self as a paying of dues for a life wherein one would feel most alive. How can one set of feelings be trusted, when another, so much more powerful are completely ignored?
And, this is the kind of stuff that has been running through my head all week, when really, what I want is the sweating and the breathing and the identification of myself as an aggressive masculine creature pulling her up and throwing her around, the exchange of controlled aggression like tigers playing. The sense of living in the moment, rather than watching the situation from outside of yourself (for which, I claim to be guilty for nearly all of my sexual encounters, save for a select few). It's that singular sensation one gets when dancing: that you are acting in direct accordance with outside stimuli and you could care less what you look like while you are doing it.
In summation, I just wish she was here right now.
***
Italicized text taken from Female Chauvinist Pigs by Ariel Levy
(Thanks to Aoife for the recommendation and Sapphic_Plastic for lending me her copy to read).
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As for Mirrormask, it should be out on DVD within the next two months. Pick it up, if for the visuals alone. Sort of reminds me of the movie "Waking Life".