Make Something, Move On

Tonight has been illuminating. I had a threesome with two people I have had sex with before. I have been exploring the differences between loving someone, loving the idea of someone, and loving the sex I have with someone. So I want to start this off by being crystal clear: I am not in love with her.

The three of us walked off the apartment property and smoked. Against my better judgement, I take a few hits. It feels good. The pain in my body evaporates and a familiar fuzziness encircles my brain. I look at the clouds and feel like I could stare at them forever. My friends hold easy conversation.

Clothes come off, slowly. We begin touching, slowly. I am really enjoying it all. We start kissing. Goddess grabs my throat and pushes me down and I am dropped so far into subspace that I have no thoughts in my head except to serve and be useful. She has a unique ability to do that to me. That is one of the reasons I am in love with the sex we have. It is unlike the sex I have experienced with anyone else.

Goddess and o** kiss for a moment until o** pulls away. "i'm sorry, i'm not supposed to kiss you too much, that's a boundary b**** has." I am too deep in subspace to register it but somewhere deep inside of me, my sober heart sinks. (i had hoped that o** would be more tactful than this. i wasn't sure how i would feel about seeing Goddess kiss someone else. i was enjoying it until that moment. Goddess is shaken. subspace and weed leave me unable to make eye contact. she asks to talk about it. i refuse. we move on.)

When they both fuck me it feels good. I like being the center of attention. They did not make me ask for it. I am endlessly appreciative for them for being willing to understand me and give me the grace I need to learn about myself.

Watching Goddess fuck o** is like watching an artist work. It is hard for me to believe they only met a few hours ago with the familiarity that she touches them with. I watch the muscles in her shoulders ripple, her thighs flex, and her complete focus become fixed on o**. The intensity is breathtaking. I begin to understand another layer of my love for the sex we have: i have trouble feeling deserving of attention, and sex with Goddess feels unapologetically indulgent. Watching my friends fuck is the hottest thing I have ever seen in my life.

Goddess taps out of the threesome early. She comments on how she has a low sex drive. i do not understand why i always crave more than people are willing to give me. my body aches to see her more, but she has too many obligations and i am not a priority. i know that as soon as i speak my mind, she will pull away. i am mourning that loss before it even has happened.

After we fuck I steal a moment away in her bedroom and do my best to sear the sensations into my head. The soft lighting, the smell, the sound of her voice. I really hope this isn't the last time I will be experiencing them. I am so tired of asking for more from people than they are willing, or able, to give.

I need to say that while I am in love with the sex we have, a part of me craves the subspace she puts me in. I want more of it, of her. but it doesn't need to be intense sex all the time. I think I just want to be her dog. I want to lay at her feet and rest my head on her knees and watch a movie. I want to cuddle and rub her back and talk about our art. I want to have slow sex and have the next time I see her be sooner than a month away.

These are unreasonable asks from someone who already gave up her last night alone to stay up way too late with me. (she mentions spending the last night with her primary partner. a pang of envy shoots through me, followed by a rising tide of self-disgust. i push it down.) i feel guilty asking for more, and i dread how this conversation with her is going to go. but i rarely get what I don't ask for. i just don't want the good thing we have going to end. it is hard to find sex as good as what we have together. (and i think, secretly, a part of me wants to love her. i am in a different place than i was when we met.)

I accept less than I want because I think I deserve it.

The words I wrote in Angel have been echoing through my bones for days now. I can feel myself nervously/anxiously preening my feathers and avoiding looking at the words like they can hurt me. I think I just dislike a vulnerable truth being laid so bare.

Part of it is a measure of self-protection. By not asking people for much, they never let me down. I am less likely to leave disappointed. And when inevitably they hurt me, I have put less hope into them and am therefore my heart is a little safer. But that just leaves me open to not being treated how I want, over and over again.

It's a feedback loop. I never feel like I can ask for what I want, and so I don't, so I receive less than what I want, which makes me feel like I don't deserve it. And the loop begins again. I think this has happened often enough that I am frustrated at myself for not communicating clearly.

In full honesty, I don't know what I want. I think I want to feel chosen. I want to feel like someone sees me for who I am inside and accepts it. (I felt that way with angel. I wish things had been different with him.) I want to have someone who I don't have to worry about being too much for, who doesn't have a million other partners, who I don't have to feel guilty about asking to do things with. I feel a lot of guilt for taking up people's time. I feel like I don't deserve it, on some level.

I think I'm ready to start looking for someone I can have an emotional attachment to. I'm tired of the meaningless fucking. It's still enjoyable, but it's all I've been having for a while now. I want to have sex and feel like I can tell someone I love them. I want to have sex with someone and feel small, feel safe, feel secure.

Today amethyst and I fucked and afterwards, I told them I was fighting a fawn response. They said "take your time, you can say nothing or anything you want, and it won't make me like you any less." I really appreciated that.

(even as I type it, I feel the urge to derail and relive the memories of her ripping orgasms out of my body over and over again. Memories, much like the prospective potential of someone new, rarely disappoint me as much as the reality of the person.)

I want to feel chosen. But time and time and time again, I am second or third place to other people. I am having a hard time finding someone who wants to love me. Part of that is that I am looking for love in places curated to cultivate sexual encounters, and that's not compatible. But sex is easier to find than love, and for a few precious moments, the sex almost feels like love.