Thursday, September 17, 2009
Sunday, September 13, 2009
It Goes To Show You Never Can Tell
It's come to my attention that I've neglected this little blog (thanks, BFF!) It's true, I have -- my attention's been elsewhere for a month or so.
No, it's not a man. Perish the thought! Besides, there's only one man I can think of that I'd bother making time and effort for at this juncture in my life and he's simply not available. What's that they say? C'est la vie? Yes, indeed.
My excuse, while boring, is a true one. I've been drawn back into the world of research. I'm not a great multitasker and tend to get a tad bit obsessive about my interests; I sink myself into each one of them. I have a friend that tells me it's lucky I was never remotely interested in the world of drugs because with a personality like mine I would've went whole hog. Maybe she's right. Luckily for me I have an even greater fear of relinquishing control.
Speaking of that, another friend of mine made a comment about my control issues the other day. HD and I were talking about this very thing and he said that was probably why most of my sexual fantasies revolved around being handcuffed, held down or being forced into submitting in some way. (For the sake of discussion, let's put aside my physical limitations for the moment and focus upon my mental environment.) Hm. Well, trust without fear equals desire, doesn't it? I can't find the first ingredient anywhere and if I did, would I recognize it because I can't seem to shake off the second? Perhaps that's where much of my desire has run off to.
I'm also surprised at my evolving attitude towards sex as a whole. For most of my life I always believed sex was an expression of love and you didn't do the one unless you felt the other; guilt would accompany any partaking of it without the prerequisite feelings of love. I'd sometimes even talk myself into thinking I had a more meaningful relationship with someone to avoid feeling that guilt. I've since admitted to myself that sex was something more as well. The actual act of sex -- while meaningful to me as a shared experience -- isn't a compelling, fixed need over the long term in and of itself. As much as is does represent that expression of love, it was also a vehicle to measure my sense of lack of control in a relationship. My desire for it was inversely proportional to how much I felt insecure about the stability of a union. The more stable something is, the less I need to use sex as a glue. This is the nature of my beast.
I've noticed over time that I have less need to maneuver myself out of the guilt I felt in sexual involvement. I don't have to justify my desire for physical expression by couching it in the sugar-coated terms of my youth. It is what it is. However, I wonder how much of the shift from "sex only in love" to "do it if it feels good" has come about because I'm resistant to allow anyone near enough to matter. I can now find a detachment about it that I never used to be able to find and this experience has simultaneously fascinated and repelled me. It gives me freedom of a kind I've never had before -- which is wonderful -- but at the same time it makes me despair of my ability to form any real attachments. Hm, perhaps some parts of the "sex in love" equation do still linger in my jaded romantic psyche.
Ah yes.....about that last bit. I'm so frightened of my capacity to let love disintegrate underneath me that I think it's less risky to live a solitary life. I've learned I seem to appreciate the things I can't have better than the ones that I do and once I've gained something it's only a matter of time before it loses that "new car" feeling and I start noticing the nicks and dings. What is that all about? Internal sabotage -- my projection of the fear within that allows me to keep people at a comfortable distance -- or merely a facet of who I am? Sometimes I think (hope? pray?) that it isn't and that I'm throwing that baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Other times I'm absolutely certain I can't remain in love with someone long term because I'm not capable of shaping its form and adapting it to the ways I change over time.
Realistically the truth -- as it usually is -- is somewhere in the middle. That pendulum will finally come to rest and I'll arrive at that truth in its time.
((Song: "You Never Can Tell" by Chuck Berry. Lyrics here:
http://people.cs.ubc.ca/~davet/music/track/PULPFICT_ST1/PULPFICT_ST1-09.html ))
No, it's not a man. Perish the thought! Besides, there's only one man I can think of that I'd bother making time and effort for at this juncture in my life and he's simply not available. What's that they say? C'est la vie? Yes, indeed.
My excuse, while boring, is a true one. I've been drawn back into the world of research. I'm not a great multitasker and tend to get a tad bit obsessive about my interests; I sink myself into each one of them. I have a friend that tells me it's lucky I was never remotely interested in the world of drugs because with a personality like mine I would've went whole hog. Maybe she's right. Luckily for me I have an even greater fear of relinquishing control.
Speaking of that, another friend of mine made a comment about my control issues the other day. HD and I were talking about this very thing and he said that was probably why most of my sexual fantasies revolved around being handcuffed, held down or being forced into submitting in some way. (For the sake of discussion, let's put aside my physical limitations for the moment and focus upon my mental environment.) Hm. Well, trust without fear equals desire, doesn't it? I can't find the first ingredient anywhere and if I did, would I recognize it because I can't seem to shake off the second? Perhaps that's where much of my desire has run off to.
I'm also surprised at my evolving attitude towards sex as a whole. For most of my life I always believed sex was an expression of love and you didn't do the one unless you felt the other; guilt would accompany any partaking of it without the prerequisite feelings of love. I'd sometimes even talk myself into thinking I had a more meaningful relationship with someone to avoid feeling that guilt. I've since admitted to myself that sex was something more as well. The actual act of sex -- while meaningful to me as a shared experience -- isn't a compelling, fixed need over the long term in and of itself. As much as is does represent that expression of love, it was also a vehicle to measure my sense of lack of control in a relationship. My desire for it was inversely proportional to how much I felt insecure about the stability of a union. The more stable something is, the less I need to use sex as a glue. This is the nature of my beast.
I've noticed over time that I have less need to maneuver myself out of the guilt I felt in sexual involvement. I don't have to justify my desire for physical expression by couching it in the sugar-coated terms of my youth. It is what it is. However, I wonder how much of the shift from "sex only in love" to "do it if it feels good" has come about because I'm resistant to allow anyone near enough to matter. I can now find a detachment about it that I never used to be able to find and this experience has simultaneously fascinated and repelled me. It gives me freedom of a kind I've never had before -- which is wonderful -- but at the same time it makes me despair of my ability to form any real attachments. Hm, perhaps some parts of the "sex in love" equation do still linger in my jaded romantic psyche.
Ah yes.....about that last bit. I'm so frightened of my capacity to let love disintegrate underneath me that I think it's less risky to live a solitary life. I've learned I seem to appreciate the things I can't have better than the ones that I do and once I've gained something it's only a matter of time before it loses that "new car" feeling and I start noticing the nicks and dings. What is that all about? Internal sabotage -- my projection of the fear within that allows me to keep people at a comfortable distance -- or merely a facet of who I am? Sometimes I think (hope? pray?) that it isn't and that I'm throwing that baby out with the bathwater, so to speak. Other times I'm absolutely certain I can't remain in love with someone long term because I'm not capable of shaping its form and adapting it to the ways I change over time.
Realistically the truth -- as it usually is -- is somewhere in the middle. That pendulum will finally come to rest and I'll arrive at that truth in its time.
((Song: "You Never Can Tell" by Chuck Berry. Lyrics here:
http://people.cs.ubc.ca/~davet/music/track/PULPFICT_ST1/PULPFICT_ST1-09.html ))
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