Monday, January 30, 2012
Listening to my Heart
My knight has been away, but I know everything is OK. People may think that he is being used, that I need a lot of attention. What they forget is that I am not a feminist. I want him to think he owns me. I am his girl. I want him to own me. I feel safe knowing that I am not under my own jurisdiction. My Knight knows everything is OK. They don't even know me. My heart tells me what to do. I am his girl. Everything I do is for him.
Thursday, January 26, 2012
Teach myself, maybe that will be nice
Series of circumstances has made me focus on parts of my life. How one path lead to another. Guess I'm trying to understand who I am? Here what I told someone I probably should have not:
I realized in the traffic home that the (partial) story of the cocaine guy probably left the impression that I was raped. I was never raped. I was NEVER raped. There are times were the condition I was in leaves one to worry about the state of morality among men (young and old), but whatever happened (and I don't always remember) I did invite them back with the definite intention of sex. It was always about power.
So, cocaine guy--lets call him Carlos, as I did then even though that was not his name. I was camping at the beach with my best friend, her sister, some other friends, you get the idea. Lily (bff's sister, 40's movie star) boyfriend was headed down from Austin and bringing a friend. I had recently read an article that said it was bad for women to to sleep w/ 10 or more men before marriage. Currently I had slept w/ 9 (not including giving my friend a blow job one night a couple years before this) and decided the this friend was going to be #10 to put me squarely in the realm of slut. Whenever I decided that I would have sex with this stranger, I couldn't remember his name and started him calling him Carlos. Lily's boyfriend called again when they stopped at a grocery and asked if there was anything they should bring. I called out that they should be sure to bring condoms because i was going to have sex w/ "Carlos" when he got there. I got a blank stare, but then they all figured out who was meant by Carlos. By the end of the night, we had indeed had quite a large amount of sex. According to Maya's (bff) account later, half of (a beach town) could hear it. The next afternoon, we all had breakfast together at a restaurant before heading off in our own directions. I asked right across several tables stuck together what Carlos's actual name was, so that I could write it in my book. (at the time I was keeping a list of men. I later gave up this practice otu of lack of caring or wanting to keep count)
Fast forward several months to Lily's 21st bday party. I am currently with one of my short-term boyfriends (whole 'nother story). Carlos is there and pushes me into a bathroom and locks the door. He wants me to undress so that he can take pictures of me. (long side note: at the time I had a 25 inch waist with practically the same size (although considerably less saggy) breasts and ass. I indeed, as one man put it, had a body like Betty Boop--only longer. For comparison, I currently have a 28" waist. And the wonderful red pubic hair--as you know I feel is the best part of being a redhead.) I kept tell him no, and trying to get back to the door, when he said, "Come on, someone like you?" And he was right. At that point in my life, that was a very accurate expression of surprise and frustration. Even so, I got out of the bathroom w/o ever taking off my clothes and left the party. This is the point in my life where I completely identified, and would be accurately described, as a slut. He was right. A person like me shouldn't care what kind of liberties others take. While I never took money (more's the pity) and I was always in control (for the most part) of what happened to me, it was all out of deep sadness. At the time, I would have become angry if someone said I was acting out from the sadness. Isn't anger a normal response to honesty we don't want to hear?
It was from that time, that Lily has commented on before. She told me once that she never dispared of the woman I have become with (My Knight), because I was obviously never happy then and I am obviously happy now (this was before the current period of sadness).
Know that this is not the worst story. I was not a nice person. (My Knight) came to me when I was tired. So tired. And he held on. Passion doesn't just express itself in one area of life. It is all over, and at that point it was wilder from years of... of something that corresponds to every bad idea about men being confirmed. He held on so tight. Years later, when I realized that he was in some part a normal man in regards to sex, I was able to come to him as an equal, as myself, and know that he is not actually bettter than the rest of us.
In retrospect, and sobriety, I believe it was Lily's 18th birthday. Maybe she will let me know. Nothing about that time is direct to a timeline. I became even more high a week or so ago and told my Knight all about this conversation. He does have the right to know all the ugliness. There is so much ugly back there.
Recently I have seen doubt in others eyes. Doubt in me, doubt in my trust of my knight. I have put all my chips in one bowl and am dependent on another person. I am not afraid of that dependency. Nor am I worried about him being dissatisfied with me. There is no one so amazing to me as my knight. We can exist together simultaneously on an ethereal world where conversations are obscure and intriguing to the extreme; and on the basic world where we love based on sex and consideration. No man I have ever met has lived up to being this close to a true genius. And if he needs to be fucked by a whore, I am just the woman for THAT job. We are both old enough to accept, and revel in, that part of our relationship. We are enough for each other.
Seems like I am teaching myself. Maybe that is nice.
I realized in the traffic home that the (partial) story of the cocaine guy probably left the impression that I was raped. I was never raped. I was NEVER raped. There are times were the condition I was in leaves one to worry about the state of morality among men (young and old), but whatever happened (and I don't always remember) I did invite them back with the definite intention of sex. It was always about power.
So, cocaine guy--lets call him Carlos, as I did then even though that was not his name. I was camping at the beach with my best friend, her sister, some other friends, you get the idea. Lily (bff's sister, 40's movie star) boyfriend was headed down from Austin and bringing a friend. I had recently read an article that said it was bad for women to to sleep w/ 10 or more men before marriage. Currently I had slept w/ 9 (not including giving my friend a blow job one night a couple years before this) and decided the this friend was going to be #10 to put me squarely in the realm of slut. Whenever I decided that I would have sex with this stranger, I couldn't remember his name and started him calling him Carlos. Lily's boyfriend called again when they stopped at a grocery and asked if there was anything they should bring. I called out that they should be sure to bring condoms because i was going to have sex w/ "Carlos" when he got there. I got a blank stare, but then they all figured out who was meant by Carlos. By the end of the night, we had indeed had quite a large amount of sex. According to Maya's (bff) account later, half of (a beach town) could hear it. The next afternoon, we all had breakfast together at a restaurant before heading off in our own directions. I asked right across several tables stuck together what Carlos's actual name was, so that I could write it in my book. (at the time I was keeping a list of men. I later gave up this practice otu of lack of caring or wanting to keep count)
Fast forward several months to Lily's 21st bday party. I am currently with one of my short-term boyfriends (whole 'nother story). Carlos is there and pushes me into a bathroom and locks the door. He wants me to undress so that he can take pictures of me. (long side note: at the time I had a 25 inch waist with practically the same size (although considerably less saggy) breasts and ass. I indeed, as one man put it, had a body like Betty Boop--only longer. For comparison, I currently have a 28" waist. And the wonderful red pubic hair--as you know I feel is the best part of being a redhead.) I kept tell him no, and trying to get back to the door, when he said, "Come on, someone like you?" And he was right. At that point in my life, that was a very accurate expression of surprise and frustration. Even so, I got out of the bathroom w/o ever taking off my clothes and left the party. This is the point in my life where I completely identified, and would be accurately described, as a slut. He was right. A person like me shouldn't care what kind of liberties others take. While I never took money (more's the pity) and I was always in control (for the most part) of what happened to me, it was all out of deep sadness. At the time, I would have become angry if someone said I was acting out from the sadness. Isn't anger a normal response to honesty we don't want to hear?
It was from that time, that Lily has commented on before. She told me once that she never dispared of the woman I have become with (My Knight), because I was obviously never happy then and I am obviously happy now (this was before the current period of sadness).
Know that this is not the worst story. I was not a nice person. (My Knight) came to me when I was tired. So tired. And he held on. Passion doesn't just express itself in one area of life. It is all over, and at that point it was wilder from years of... of something that corresponds to every bad idea about men being confirmed. He held on so tight. Years later, when I realized that he was in some part a normal man in regards to sex, I was able to come to him as an equal, as myself, and know that he is not actually bettter than the rest of us.
In retrospect, and sobriety, I believe it was Lily's 18th birthday. Maybe she will let me know. Nothing about that time is direct to a timeline. I became even more high a week or so ago and told my Knight all about this conversation. He does have the right to know all the ugliness. There is so much ugly back there.
Recently I have seen doubt in others eyes. Doubt in me, doubt in my trust of my knight. I have put all my chips in one bowl and am dependent on another person. I am not afraid of that dependency. Nor am I worried about him being dissatisfied with me. There is no one so amazing to me as my knight. We can exist together simultaneously on an ethereal world where conversations are obscure and intriguing to the extreme; and on the basic world where we love based on sex and consideration. No man I have ever met has lived up to being this close to a true genius. And if he needs to be fucked by a whore, I am just the woman for THAT job. We are both old enough to accept, and revel in, that part of our relationship. We are enough for each other.
Seems like I am teaching myself. Maybe that is nice.
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