Boobie Prize

Ah, be still my beating breast… My beautiful beating betraying breast.

Which has a lump in. A small lump, but it’s size is entirely disproportionate to the amount of anxiety it has awakened within me. I keep telling myself, this shock could ultimately be a good thing, that it might be the kick up the backside I need to figure out what I want to do in life & to go for it – make the most of it, more often. But mostly, my mind is filled with fear, and betrayal, by my own body.

On Christmas Eve, I’ll be at the hospital while I have my boobie poked & prodded by clinical strangers, something necessary that I absolutely hate. I feel alienated by my own body & I know it’s about to be violated, even if it is for my own good. For some reason, I can’t shake this sense of self-violation – especially after having my home burgled a couple of weeks ago. First, my home violated, now my body will be too. Not sure what to do to shake this feeling, I want my autonomy back.

I feel strangely proprietorial over my own flesh, too. If they take some of the lump out, what will they do with it? I want it back. Strange to think that there’s a living part of me that will be extracted. A small part of me will be dead. A small part of what it’s suppose to be to be a woman. Will I be diminished in some way. Will I miss it? I already feel haunted by this phantom bit of my now-still-living breast.

The Boy is quiet

I’ve been getting quite fond of The Boy. We see each other about once a week now. Mostly we go do something fun & social, get very drunk, then back to mine for sex & mooching.

It’s fun discovering each others’ bodies and sex is good too, but he’s so quiet. I’m not so very vocal or noisy, but I feel like I am being, because he’s so quiet next to me. He’s definitely having a good time, but I’m finding myself wishing he’d say more. It’s strange as he’s quite a talkative and articulate Boy & we are both very good at sex with each other.

It feels very decadent, having him as my lover. I think that’s what he feels too. So, my master-plan seems to be getting off to a good start. Seems like not very long ago, I was wondering what would become of my love-life & it’s pleasing to know that the little voice in my head was right. There are other, better ways of doing things, and experiments in living, are the way to find out.

The Boy

So, there is someone I suppose I have started seeing, although, being an overthinker & commitment-phobic, I’m not sure, yet, I don’t think so.

I thought it would just be a one-night stand, but it’s turned into more regular fun than that. I find him quite exciting. It was exciting enough picking someone up and taking them home for the first time in many years, but he’s lots of the things that excite me on top of that. Opinionated, smart, tall, sexual & beautiful, curious and I feel quite comfortable with him. I think I’ve recently remembered that the most sexually stimulated part of me is my mind, which feels quite tickled around him. I’m 10 years older than him, but he’s a very smart & given me lots of food for thought, which is quite a refreshing change for me. I’ve missed being intellectually challenged. I get so bored so quickly with the unthinking ones.

I’m calling him The Boy, it seems fitting as he seems to be able to carry off calling women ‘girls’ and get away with it. It’s usually a bugbear of mine, but it’s cute (for now).

 

 

It’s not you, it’s me. Another cliché today.

I think I might have to have the “It’s not you, it’s me” conversation with the person I started sleeping with very recently. I think it would be cruel to do anything else.

On the whole, in the past, when I’ve had this conversation, I’ve just been polite. Mostly, it hasn’t been me, but them.

This time it’s different. It really isn’t him, it really is me. I have no fault with him. He’s lots of lovely things, I’m just not really into him, for reasons I can’t quite fathom. This makes it more difficult.

I hope he doesn’t feel hurt. I feel very sorry/guilty, even though I’m not sure I should. I feel cruel, but I know I’m not.

Sigh.

Todays cliche of the day – Once bitten twice shy.

Once bitten twice shy? Well you’d think so, wouldn’t you?

Having read my last post, you wouldn’t have thought that I’d make the same mistake twice. Yet alone with the same person!

Shouldn’t have slept with him again, really. Have always felt strongly that no sex is infinitely preferable to bad sex and I’ve proved myself twice right.

He stopped halfway through to ask if I was bored (I was, but I’d never be cruel enough to say so). He’s lovely, but there’s an absence of excitement and chemistry & that was reflected by my… unenthusiasm. Poor thing, it isn’t his fault.

Worst thing is I think he’s started to get attached. He’s using “we”, he’s started to talk about stuff he wants to do next month with me, even though I said at the start I was non-committing. He did that gazing at me with big eyes thing first thing in the morning, saying “you’re so lovely”. It’s freaking me out a little!

Ah, I’m a numbnut sometimes. I hope this post acts as an aid memoire, and I don’t find myself posting about twice bitten, thrice shy.

DEFINING THE LINES: A SWINGER’S DICTIONARY

Woah, there’s much more to this stuff than I’d anticipated! (Still all a little couple-centric, in my opinion!)

DEFINING THE LINES: A SWINGER’S DICTIONARY.

Also, am not that interested in swinging, really. What does that make me, a near-unicorn?

Things that have been making me hot under the collar of late

Since I awoke from my sexual slumber I’ve been finding myself surprised at the things and places that have woken up the erotic part of me. Here are some of them.

Smoking

Solitary teardrops

Single drops of blood

Being bitten

My shoes

Canadian accents

Androgyny

This song/video/group:

Church roofs

Forearms

Necks

This song from my youth:

This by Asaf Avidan:

The idea of testing my tolerence to pain

Purply blue velvet

My fur coat (I know, I know, but it’s reclaimed fur, and I bought it from a charity) *guilty conscience*

Tasting blood

Caves

Orange and purple in juxtaposition

Attraction to the unavailable.

In this strange new period of my life, I seem to be mostly attracted to people who are emotionally or otherwise, unavailable.

This, for me, is a new and puzzling development. It doesn’t bother me, other than not understanding why this is the case. It isn’t very rational, but I trust my subconscious.

Am curious as to what it might mean. Any ideas, people?