Life, Love, Sex

By the way

Blogging is teh suck.

I don’t feel like blogging ever again right now.

Sex is teh suck.

I really don’t wanna have sex ever again right now.

And that’s where I stand on life these days.

Affliction

I keep thinking of my feelings for Jefferson these days as some sort of viral infection- in that I wake up everyday curious as to why I still feel this way, why it hasn’t just worked itself out on it’s own- like a cold, or the flu.

I think about him (in that I crave him) and I’m incredulous that I still feel that way.  Consciously I’m doing everything I can to let go.  My subconscious has got a death grip on his memory.

But only to an extent.

Occasionally (and I’m not underreporting) I look at a picture of us from back when we were really happy together.  And specifically I chose to look at this picture of us, rather than a picture of just him (except for this one picture from Chicago which is astetically just a beautiful picture, and I like to look at it and admire my handy work), because I want to see us together happy.  In the picture.  I want to see the picture of us together happy.

The memories are starting to fade though.  Even the pictures aren’t doing enough to keep a strong hold on them.  Off the top of my head, I don’t remember when this one picture was taken.  I couldn’t even guess what year or what month.  But more so, Jefferson becomes less and less familiar to me.  It’s almost like I don’t recognize him.

Jefferson is a non-issue in my life except for the 30 (cumulative) minutes a day (60 on Tuesdays) when he is.   I think about him sporadically, and I only ever talk about him in therapy.  But it doesn’t make it any easier to deal with oddly enough.

Sometimes I’m sad.  Especially when I think about the fact that the majority of the time we were together it was really good and I was really happy.  I admit I do miss the physicalness of our relationship.  Some moments I feel like I’d give anything for him to touch me again, hold me, kiss me, fuck me.  I often wish I could just hit a reset button on 2008.  Do it all over again, armed with what I know now.

And then there are the other times where I’m angry.  When I think about the times he lied to me- little lies, big lies.  The way he could tell me he loved me and then go on to treat me with such impudence.  Ignoring my feelings because he thought them insignificant and a disruption to his peaceful life.

News flash- feelings aren’t drama.

I don’t know how he could constantly tell me he cared about me and that I could always tell him anything- and I could, as long it wasn’t anything that had to do with him or our relationship, but if I brought up feelings about us then I was shut down and made to feel bad and like I had misbehaved because I wanted to confront and FIX an issue I was having.

And I would always challenge him on this in the beginning, but he’s much better at his own game, and he always had less to lose.  Jefferson never gave a fuck who walked in, or out, of his life.  And I knew this.  I saw this.  I never saw any sadness when he stopped seeing people, and I knew it was no different for me.

So when push came to shove, I let him win.  I dropped the issue.  Or apologized for any perceived misbehavior. Sometimes I’d just break up with him.

So the real fun begins when I’m sad and angry at the same time.  Like I am now after writing this.  It’s odd to miss someone whose lights you want to punch out.  I’m not yet at the point where I feel better having him completely gone from my life.  Especially considering the fact that I still have moments where I miss him and I still have moments where I’m mad at him.  So other than not seeing him, it doesn’t feel all that different.  Ha.  Psh.

Writing this today has made today’s accumulation more than 30 minutes.  Oh well.

I’ve been wanting to write a little on camp, so I’ll try and make that my next post(s).

I’m off to schoolwork, as usual.

Healing

It’s been 3 months now.  And only 3 months.  It feels like an eternity longer.  I spent the month of July not thinking much about it, which was good.  August I spent being angry.  Not so good.  And September I’ve been sad.

It’s not that I want Jefferson back in my life (at least the rational part doesn’t).  Believe you me, I don’t.  It’s just that I’m adjusting to something that was basically a constant in my life for 2 years being gone now.  For good, once and for all.  This isn’t like the other times.  We can’t talk and work things through.  We’re no longer a rock.  (Jefferson once described us as solid as a rock when we were going through a rough patch and I was thinking of leaving.)  We lost our strength a long, long time ago.

Not everything about being with Jefferson sucked.  Obviously, or I wouldn’t have stayed for so long.  I have plenty of blog entries here documenting the good times we shared.  And I think it’s perfectly logical and reasonable that I would miss those times.  Except for at the very end, I would still be excited to see him and spend time with him (and I was still shaving and wearing nice underwear too!).  That same giddy excitement I felt from day 1 lasted 2 years.  I loved how he used to touch me (though I’ve been missing that for longer than 3 months now) and I could never get enough of him.  I felt something for Jefferson that I really never experienced with anyone else.  And I can’t explain the hows or whys.  If I knew, I’d be torn between wanting to protect myself from ever letting it happen again, or searching for that kind of connection with another person.

It wasn’t supposed to end up like this.  This isn’t what I had planned.

If anything, I should have stayed broken up with him the 1st time and then we wouldn’t be where we are now.  Not friends.  Not speaking.  Not in each other’s life.

The break-up was…awful.  But I was at my wit’s end.  Everything I was doing wasn’t helping to save our relationship (probably because I was the only one doing something).  The lies continued.  The distance between us grew further.

You know I never saw his new place?  He never makes dates, so of course I was never invited to see it.  And then since I was trying to be helpful, I was trying to give him space so he had time to move, unpack, write his book, etc.  But I was so hurt and infuriated when I started reading all these accounts of all these other people spending time with him.  Including new people.  This was days before our trip to Chicago.

It was that moment that I decided I couldn’t be with him anymore.

I think I did a pretty good job of hiding that while in Chicago, if I do say so myself.

I guess I ended it like I did because I didn’t want a repeat of last summer’s break-up to happen (me going back to him).  I didn’t want to be manipulated back into the relationship.  I didn’t want to keep being hurt by his indifference to my feelings and his not taking any responsibility for his actions.

I don’t know what made this year different than last, but whatever I did successfully severed all ties.  Now we’re not even able to be friends.

Part of me wishes we could be.  I do miss just having him be in my life.  For even just the smallest reasons.

Thursday night I used a 4×5 view camera for the 1st time and really, really loved it.  It was so cool and so unlike any other photographic process I’ve done before.  It’s amazing how different cameras can be and how that can alter the photo taking a process.  My fully manual camera is so different from my auto-focus digital.  Using a TLR is different from an SLR.  And now I finally know the charms of a view camera.

I developed the film last night (tray development in complete darkness) and was so pleased with my images!!  I only took 4.  The 1st one was messed up because the camera moved on a shaky tripod, but other than that it was good exposure. The 2nd one I didn’t like because some things were out of focus and I think I may have had a bellow off center.  But the last 2 were really nice.  Great exposure, even density.  And nice pictures too!

Plus I was also shooting at night so I had to use my reciprocity failure chart and make sure I was metering correctly.  I think I might go out again tonight to shoot another building that I liked.  (I’m very into architecture, not sure why I haven’t pursued that more…)  And then Sunday night my classmate and I are going to go set up by the river to get the skyline (I’ll let her discover the hard way it’s cliche and not all that interesting, instead of bursting her excitement prematurely).

And I write all of this because this is what I’d want to be sharing with Jefferson (and I guess I am sharing it with him since I know he’s reading).  He got my excitement (or was really good at patronizing me about all my art geekiness).  I miss having him there to run to excited and wanting to share what cool new thing I learned.

I remember the hurt and frustration, but I also remember the love and happiness.  And the fun, playful times (like the time I got him hogtied at Shibaricon and then tickled him and tortured his nipples, hehe).  And the tender times (like when he’d just hold me and lay with me when I was having a bad week and just needed his warmth to feel better).

Maybe we could be friends.  Maybe we couldn’t.  I don’t know.  It’s probably not all that important.  I don’t even know if being friends is even a good idea.  I just wish I knew what it took to be less sad about everything.  And if all it takes is time, well then hurry the fuck up.

Heartache

Tomorrow I head to camp, and I couldn’t be more excited.  My cabin is going to rock- we’re the Panny FuxXx cabin- a whole bunch of young, pansexual, queer folk (so much so that I already feel so “straight” just in anticipation of cabining with them!).  Way awesome.  I only hope the weather holds out in our favor.  There’s a chance of rain each day, but only a 30% chance each day, so that’s not too bad.

I do get sad thinking about last year.  And not just last year camp (but yeah, sad thinking about last year camp), but last year fall/winter really.  (The time between Floating World and Winter Fire for all intents and purposes.)  I was so unbelievably happy last year- a happiness I didn’t even think was possible for me.  And of course that I’m doubtful I can achieve again.

I just had such amazing experiences, met so many new people, and made so many “great” “friends.”  But my trust has been so shattered, I don’t even want to dip my toe into making new friends.

I call this time of my life right now “Post-Winter Fire.”  After Viviane lashed out at me in a jealous temper tantrum, things haven’ t been the same.  And things have been 1,000 times worse since I spoke out against the FOJ campaign.  Well, it would make sense that the FOJ wouldn’t like me anymore.  Fair enough.  I don’t think Viviane ever liked me, and since she stabbed me in the back, there’s really no loss there.  (She really is just a wretched human being, honestly.)  Tilda and I were once friends, for like an hour.  But she chose to remove me from her blogroll and ignore me at Floating World.  Whatever.  No real sweat off my back.  Lolita and I “were never friends.”  Not thatI actually thought we were…

I haven’t decided yet if it’s worse just being ignored or being told flat out someone wants nothing to do with me anymore.  Because the silence says the same thing, just in a passive aggressive away.  (I’m going to go with being ignored.  Because getting the “courtesy” note often says way too much and includs 100 extraneous (and hurtful) reasons why they’re dumping you (have I written this sentance before because I’m getting serious deja vu).)

This isn’t something I ever really wanted to talk about because I’m human, and don’t always like to admit that I’m a human with feelings and such, but it’s been unbelievably hurtful and heartbreaking watching people that I liked, respected, admired, and cared about leave my life in such unfriendly and saddening ways.

I don’t particuarly like people, in a general sense, and over the years I’ve really tried to avoid letting people into my life and making new friends.   But last year I threw caution to the wind and completely opened my heart up and got completely burned and hurt in the end.  (Just like I always expect to happen.)

I still have a few good friends left, and God am I ever so thankful for them.  Desire especially is a Godsend.  I don’t know what I’d do without her (well, her and my therapist).

Camp was awesome last year.  I refuse to let any bad feelings I may have now tarnish those memories.  And I really do miss that life.  I miss Jefferson.  I miss my friends.  I miss my social life.  I miss being happy.

I anticipate this year’s camp also being awesome.  Just different.  I’m not exactly going into it with an open heart.

I don’t know that it really is better to have loved and lost.  I really don’t want to be hurt anymore (especially so soon after this round).

I don’t have much time for a social life these days anyways, so maybe it’s for the better.  I have a heavy course load, I’m focued on graduating, putting together a portfolio, and soon job huting.  That all there is going to take up a lot of my time and energy for the next 6 months.

And maybe that’s a good amount of time until I’m ready to start letting new people into my life.  Hopefully next time it won’t end in heartache.

I have no title

This is me trying to write something.  Anything.  I’m so blocked- I’m desperate to free something in myself.

I want to write about where I stand with sex.  It changed for me sometime this winter.  Sometime in January or February.  I’m not sure if it’s related to the fights I started having with Jefferson, but it probably is in some small part at the very least.

Something changed in me where I started disliking sex.  With everyone.  And I never wanted to talk about it here because there are people that I fuck reading this and I didn’t want anyone taking anything personally.  And I mean that now- don’t anyone take anything personally!

At first I thought it was just a disconnect with me and Jefferson (and I wrote about it briefly here), but I didn’t connect that it was something larger than him and I until I started sleeping with more people again.

I guess I delayed talking about it for so long because I hoped it would just go away.  But here it is, end of August, and it’s only getting worse.

This isn’t to say I’ve been faking it all year.  Not at all.  There were plenty of times where I was really into it and enjoying myself.  And there were no faked orgasms.  My attitude towards sex just changed.  Sometimes it was a chore to get myself into the modd.  Sometimes having an orgasm was just too much work and not at all what my body wanted.  A few times I regretted it afterwards.  (And no, I won’t be giving specific example of who or when.)

The issue hasn’t even been my libido.  I’ve told some people that, because it was the easiest way to say it, but it’s an oversimplified reason.  My sex drive is actually plenty fine (most days).  I’m as horny as usual.  Some days I even jerk off 2 or 3 times (which is actually a lot for me).  But my desire to have actual sex is basically nil.  Actually, scratch that.  Yes, I do have this desire to be fucked (and I mean plowed).  But I don’t have it in me to follow through on that desire.

A lot of it is because I really, really hate my body these days.  I put on a few pounds this spring and haven’t gotten it back off yet, and I’m extremely self-conscious about it.  I have a hard time believeing lovers want to see me naked when even I can’t stand looking in the mirror.  And forget about being naked in front of crowds!  I went to the Philly dungeon the other week with Jocasta and was so not in the mood to play and I couldn’t pin-point why until I was half naked and tied up- I hated having my body so exposed.

Of course all of this is relatively new since I didn’t gain the few extra pounds until the spring.

It was something else that changed in me over the winter.  Another thing that I’ve neglected to mention (because it makes me sad) is that my g-spot has become over sensitive and a lot of times it’s been played with, it’s been almost like torture.  One time when I was with Adam, he was fingering me and I had to push him away because I just coudn’t stand it nor could I bear to orgasm, and I have no idea why.

So as a girl that’s claimed her g-spot is her best friend, you can see why this makes me so sad.  It’s frustrating to have your body change on you.

I wish I knew the steps for getting my old self back.  Especially with camp coming up.  There are a few friends I’ll feel comfortable being intimate with, but I wish I could say I was more open to the idea of possibly fucking a new person (hey, it’s how Match and I started our friendship!).  I mean it’s not the worst thing in the world if I don’t fuck a stranger at camp.  Hell, it’s not even my goal!  I’d just like to be more open to the possibility.

Shit, I’d like to be more open to the idea of sex, with anyone, period.

But some days I just hate the thought of being touched.  And being naked.  And having to work to keep my head in the moment.

Plus you know what I miss?

Sex with someone I love.

And not just my friends that I love, because they’re my friends.

And not that I don’t love sex with my friends.  But it’s just different.

So suffice to say I’ve serious cut down on how much sex I’ve been having. And thus don’t have much to write about concerning it.  Not that I’m even in the mood to write about sex.

Oh La La

Since my return from France, I’ve tried to be more French.

I’ve cut way back on drinking soda and have been drinking more water and fresh brewed iced tea.

I’ve been using some of the canvas bags I brought back from France when I go to stores and I even picked up 2 new ones, one from Target and one from Shop Rite.

I’ve even started eating this really yummy goat cheese!

But anways, I’ve been editing my pictures from France, and I’ve narrowed down the some 700 pictures I took down to about 55 favorites, so I’ll start posting some of them here.

And then I’ll go eat my goat cheese and plan how I can move to the South of France after I graduate in January…

A Date

I had a date last night.  Like a real type of one.  I don’t have many of those.  And I certainly haven’t had one in a while.

It was with this guy I had met at camp last year, and we had only went out once back in the fall but he thought of me again as he signed up for camp this year and called me up and invited me out for cupcakes.

It’s probably a little on the soon side for me to be “dating,” but I liked Drew and I was happy to see him, and I didn’t want him to think I was blowing him off.

So I met him last night after I was done helping Barbara Nitke with a photoshoot.  We split a salad and a lasagna for dinner and walked down to Magnolia’s for cupcakes.  My first Magnolias’ cupcake.  I’d say they’re pretty good, but probably a little overrated.  I had the vanilla cake with vanilla icing.  Yeah, it was yummy.

As we ate dinner and cupcakes we talked dating and sex.  Light stuff and heavy stuff.

Sometimes I would change the subject when it got to the heavy stuff.  I was afraid I might cry.

I had a nice time.

But yeah, I really think I shouldn’t be doing any kind of dating or hooking up right now.

I have more to write on where I’m at with sex and stuff, but I’m having a hard time to put it into words, and it’s hard to talk about anyways.  2am doesn’t seem like that best time to start anyways.  I’ve  been putting off talking about it for almost 8 months as it is, what’s a few more days or weeks, right?

Signed Up

I signed up last night for a second year of camp.

I originally thought I couldn’t afford it, but I scrounged up some pennies and managed to make it happen.

The schedule’s up already and there’s some interesting stuff going on.  I’m bummed because Lolita’s teaching on sensory deprivation but it’s at noon on Friday and that would mean I’d need to leave home promptly at like 8am in order to get there for it.  And I can’t really invision that happening.  I also could be good and leave after my Friday class.  But that’s just silly because then I wouldn’t get down there until the evening.

And then Lee Harrington is teaching on Safer Magical Sex on Thursday!  Boo.  Oh well.

Sorry, don’t mind my stream of conscious thinking out loud post.

I’m hoping camp will be good.  It certainly won’t be anything like last year.  Partly because I hate 1/2 the people from last year (the NYC/blogger contingent I mean) (and the feeling is mutual I’m sure).  Another part because I’m getting fed up with kink and sex and this “community”.  There was a reason I never believed in community.

So I’ll give it one last shot.

I’m holding out hope for camp, but my expectations for wanting to continue to be apart of the kink community are considerably low.

Nothing to Say

It strange seeing Jefferson show up on my statcounter- knowing he’s reading but having nothing to say.

One might think that when seeing 2 years of hurt and frustration compiled into one easy to digest post, it might be eye opening for the person that caused said hurt and they might be inclined to, oh I don’t know, apologize or something to that effect?

You know, like in Sex and the City when Carrie publishes her columns into a book and Mr. Big reads it and finally gets how much he fucked her over.

But then again it seems I’ve always overestimated Jefferson’s emotional maturity.  I always forget that he just doesn’t care.  And that he absolutely can’t empathize with any of the pain he caused me.  And he will never take responsibility for his actions where he could have done better.

I know I’ll never hear the words I want to hear .  I’ll never get any sort of explanation.  Or decent closure.  I do know that.

I just need a little bit of time before I stop wishing it was possible.

A Reminder

You can’t un-ring a bell