I’ve had some interesting conversations of late with someone whose input I’ve come to love for the differences in our perspectives and the way we approach things. Some experience, some insight and a different perspective have brought into clarification something that I had been missing.
The new FWB, he needs a name. Let’s call him Cernunnos after the horned god.
During our very long and very very extensive coupling a few days ago I’ve gone over and replaying a lot of things that happened. Which is a good thing, a lot of what happened was fantastic and wonderful and joyful and orgasmic in so many many ways.
But during all this, Cernunnos decided that during our last love-making of the night, he would rock me steady and sure with long slow strokes. As he did this, with my head buried in his neck and shoulder and his head buried in my neck was that for every orgasm I had in this position, I felt a layer peel off me exposing something I haven’t purposefully exposed before. For every roll of our hips I felt a bit of my armour shatter and crumble. Somehow this great big beast of a man was exposing parts of myself I wasn’t aware that I hadn’t been exposing before. If he’d kept going I was pretty sure I’d have cried. And this, from the woman who used to scoff at all those women in films that cried during sex because it was so emotional.
Something clicked in that moment. I was grateful we didn’t keep that pace up and going for longer than we did. I wasn’t and still am not sure I’m ready to face that kind of vulnerability with just a FWB.
But what does this all mean?
It means that all my sexual interactions to date have been with me withholding a part of myself. I’ve kept a bit hidden for me. Put away and to the side. That integral piece that stopped me from giving myself over fully to someone. Does this mean that all my relationships to date were false? Did I not feel what I felt? Was that not love? Does giving only 65% of yourself to someone mean that your relationship was doomed from the get go? Why haven’t I felt vulnerability within my sexual relationships before? How does this alter the landscape of my sexuality and how I connect during sex? Will this be a regular occurrence? What does that mean for any future relationship?
At this point in time my world has been turned upside down and I feel like I’m sitting on the ceiling while the rest of the world carries on below me.
Some background I think is really important here. Daddy issues part #1: My father left when I was 5, I never saw him again until I got word that he died walking down the street of a heart attack. I refused to see him at the funeral. For someone who thought I wasn’t worth his time while he was alive I saw no point in wasting my time on someone who was dead. Since then I have been a series of relationships, all ranging from 1-4 years. Mostly though 3 years was the max. There was a lot of baggage created in these relationships. And now I’m wondering how much of the baggage is self-induced.
What I failed to notice during my ins and outs of these relationships was that I was falling for the same kind of man time and time again. The emotionally unavailable. The one who didn’t want to settle down. The one who pledged love and withdrew it. I was setting myself up for failure from the get go. I have this stupid belief that I’m somehow not worthy of anyone staying with me long-term. As much as I joke and play around that my ego could encompass the world, in actual fact it’s about the size of a deflated pea. I have gone into relationships with a shelf life. Was this purposeful on my part? Maybe. I think subconsciously I was going after these men because I knew ultimately that they would leave me. That they would fulfil my self prophecy of “shelf life”. For someone who thinks rather optimistically for everyone else in their relationships, I’m really a pessimist when it comes to my own. Because I’m not worthy of love and commitment. See daddy issues part 1.
What does all this mean?!
It means that whether I knew it or not, I was setting myself up for failure. It hurt, every single time. For someone who doesn’t logically believe in happily ever after, whimsically I was hoping for one of my partners to prove me wrong and stay. Yet, time after time, they proved my prophecy right. The relationship disintegrated and I walked away with another bruised and broken heart.
So no more. No more going into relationships that I know are doomed. No more thinking that I’ll be the one that changes their mind and makes them see the error of their ways and love me. No more “shelf life”.
But how does this tie into my sex life? Ahhhh but you see, a lot of people view sex as showing one’s vulnerability. For me it’s always been about fucking. Vulnerability? In sex? The only vulnerability I knew of was getting naked. And that isn’t really becoming vulnerable in any way to me. It was just a prelude to a good time. Cernunnos, a relative stranger, was able to find something I’d been missing. My vulnerability in sex. And for someone who’s kinky and submits willingly – this rocked my world like nothing has to date. Having a sexual connection doesn’t compare to having that connection and letting yourself become vulnerable. The two are so separate that I hadn’t realised that somehow I was missing an integral part.
I make myself vulnerable during my kinky activities, but it’s not the same kind of vulnerability. I give myself over to the administrations of other’s but that doesn’t necessarily mean I give them my soul. That slow fucking, the exquisite torture of the orgasms even after I was begging for no more, the peeling of every layer…. that was giving my soul bit by bit. And it scared the bejesus out of me.
I think there’s a really really important part of me that I need to fix and I am not sure how to go about doing that. The part of me that’s broken beyond repair. The part of me that whispers that I’m not worthy enough of anyone’s love or commitment. What do I do with the little girl whose father didn’t give a shit about her? What do I do with the little girl who only wants love but got nothing but silence and an empty space as a father? How do I stop my mother’s words echoing in my head saying that I am worthless? How do I even begin to fix that?
So here I sit with all my broken bits finally out in the open. Realising that I’ve never really loved, not wholly and not vulnerably. Not in the way that I see other’s love and wondered why I could never have what they had.
And I have my superglue. In the hopes that I can put something together that might be worthy of all this love I see around me and that I can hopefully make a balance decision on my next partner who will value me the way I obviously have been missing for all my life.