Have I, Sexkitten, lost her sexual mojo? I wondered as it dawned on me that I have not had an orgasm in months. That my last few relationships have taken an emotional toll is a plausible explanation. Sex though it's a physical act is driven by pure emotion.
Despite my endless optimism to never give up on love, I do get tired and weary sometimes. Not enough to throw in the towel and call game over on having a healthy relationship – but enough to recognize that my tolerance level to deal with men and their foolishness have been depleted – or is it, that I have grown tired of my foolishness?
You see, I've been taking longer than usual vacations into solitude to face my shortcomings and accept full responsibility for my actions. The mirror may be a harsh critic, but it doesn’t lie. I stand naked before it often. In the last few months I've identified a Kryptonite-like weakness that has been lurking in the shadows of my psyche for a very long time, and which may account for some of my choices in men.
"So what's going on with you and Wallace?" Jen asked, batting ridiculously long, fake lashes that I wanted to pluck from her eyes.
She called me one day to see if I wanted to go to a movie, and I told her that I had plans with Wallace.
“Wallace? The guy who doesn’t fuck?”
“That’s the one,” I said.
“He’s a nice guy and everything, Kit, but why are you hanging out with him again?” she asked.
"I don't have to worry about him pulling out his cock wanting me to suck it every time I see him," I said.
“But you love sucking cock," she said.
“We’ll discuss this later. I have things to do,” I said.
“Let’s have a cookout soon,” she tossed in before I hung up.
Consequently, I showed up to her cookout prepared for a thorough interrogation. She invited Ally as well, and we sat on her backyard patio like three minx's in flowery sundresses drinking wine and playing dominoes. T-bone steak sizzled on the grill, sending the smoky smell of summer barbecues wafting through the air. It felt like an 80's summer day in the sunlight, but in the shade, a slight chill in the wind reminded us that summer days were not quite here.
"Why aren't you answering my question about Wallace?" She asked again when I ignored her to play my hand.
"There is nothing going on with us," I said.
"I believe it. I think he's gay, but won't admit it. That's why nothing down low was going on when you dated him years ago," Ally said. She’d shown up in a surly mood – complaining that her period came twice in one month.
"Whatever you’re doing with him, you should stop it." Jen said. "It's not going to work for the same reason that it didn't work the first time,"
I stared at her, somewhat amused by how easily she transitioned into this motherly role. Dressed in a blue spaghetti dress, decorated with tiny pink flowers, her rich, caramel skin, still a little pale from covering up all winter, and with the sunscreen I'd rubbed on her neck and bare shoulders, glistened like 14-karat gold.
I've always found her fetching – not in the classic sense that society defines beauty, but in her own unique way – the way I understand beauty to be. She had never been slender – voluptuous, more like it – all of her body parts seemed over-sized, with double-D breasts, thick thighs, wide hips and a nice round butt. She even wears a whopping size ten shoes, yet she is as soft as a rose petal.
I understood why Jen and Ally felt the need to question my intentions with Wallace, but they need not worry. Hanging out with him was in no way an attempt to rekindle an old flame – there was no flame to rekindle. He was never interested in anything I had below the waist.
"I don't do the sex thing very often," he told me when we first met. "Frankly, I think sex is a messy waste of time,"
We awkwardly fucked twice in the year we dated - the second time was to see if the first time was a fluke. It wasn't. I don't know how to describe a kiss devoid of flavor, a touch that lacks curiosity – and a body that does not know passion.
I continued seeing him because despite our sexual incompatibility, I enjoyed his company. He was attentive and humorous, with an intelligence that excited me. He entertained whatever ridiculous thought spilled out of my head, and there were plenty.
But unlike Wallace, I enjoy the messy sordidness of sex - the taste of my cunt on my lover's lips – inhaling the mixed sweet and musky smell of masculine and feminine – the yearning in a man’s thrust to find his way home, and my burning desire to take him there - to be naked together in flesh and spirit – that we may experience if only briefly, the feel of going back to our beginning. I have never in a moment of surrender been able to formulate a single thought except to curl my toes, scream, and tremble - holding on as if my life depends on it, as I plummet through time. Staying in a relationship with someone who could not satisfy my sexual desires was unthinkable. I left him.
When I say that I do not want a man who only wants me for sex, does not mean that I don’t want one who wants me for it. I want my cock served with passion for life, intelligence, love, understanding, humor, sensitivity - I want a connection that transcends the physical - one who wants to fuck me absolutely, but also wants me close because he connects with me spiritually.
“Are you sure that you’re not just hanging out with Mr. No-sex because you’re waiting for your old flames to come back?” Ally asked.
"Which of my old flames would it make any sense to wait on?" I asked.
“Daniel and Clark are still out there." She said. “They are still a possibility,”
“I don’t see them as a possibility - at least not as we had been,” I said.
Possibility would be if we wanted the same things and were heading in the same direction, which is clearly not the case with either men.
I truly believe that Daniel and I got together again to say goodbye. We used our one night to fill the gap between our years apart, and gave our younger selves permission to let go and move on. It was a bittersweet step back in time-
And as for Clark, I've accepted that we entered each others lives when we both stood at a fork in the road looking for something, but not sure what. Yet of all the people in the world who could've shown up for each other, we were the ones standing there. I don't believe in coincidences. "I think we are a possibility, I told him. "Let’s take the open road and see where it goes," But he was too hurt and afraid to take a road with an end he could not see.
Erin Hanson said:
“There is freedom waiting for you,
On the breezes of the sky,
And you ask "What if I fall?"
Oh but my darling,
What if you fly?”
While Clark feared not falling, I feared not flying. And so, I am ok with letting him go and moving on to find out on my own what's out there on the open road. The fact is, he didn't give me much to cling to - he held tightly to his pain and would not let me inside. I can describe the way he fucks in great detail, yet knows, but bits and pieces of him from glimpses caught in the shadows of our affair. That’s not his problem. It’s mine.
Despite suffering a broken heart, I do not miss the confusion that was us. If our connection was the forever kind - we would have found a way to make it work. Perhaps my purpose for meeting Clark at that fork in the road was not to build a life with him. Perhaps I was the erotic angel come to kiss away his hurt - that when I took him into my arms and wrapped him in my nakedness all those nights when he wandered into my bed, I was offering more than sex, I was the lifeline that saved him from the clutches of despair. Could it be, that mine was the healing touch he needed, my body nurturing and my kisses laced with the right dose of penicillin to treat his infected heart? Erotic angel - Is there such a being? Was I the sliver of light in his darkness?
He was in mine. It was in his arms I realized that I wanted more in a partnership than casual sex. There was that moment lying naked beside him, one leg tossed carelessly across his waist, listening to his heart beating, when everything changed, and it wasn’t about him. It was about me.
I've been dealing with a plethora of emotions these days as I come to terms with the fact that in the curious cases of Kitten, the relationship problems that I've faced are not external. Perhaps that's why my libido is on strike - there are things I need to figure out.
I have more questions than I do answers at this point in my life. I thought that I would be smarter by now. Since the objective of this blog is self-exploration, I will continue as I am on this open road. I trust that I will find my answers along the way in the most unexpected places.
“For a seed to achieve its greatest expression, it must come completely undone. The shell cracks, its insides come out and everything changes. To someone who doesn’t understand growth, it would look like complete destruction.” Cynthia Ocelli