On the absence.

I apologize. Once again. For my absence of late. I can't really explain it. I just haven't felt up to blogging lately. But I HAVE been thinking a lot about sex. Yes, I know, what else is new.

The week The Pilot spent with me was particularly emotional, for both of us. We did a lot of talking, a lot of drinking, and, well, a lot of everything. All of it was needed, and I think we're in a good place now, but it was hard for me, in a lot of ways. Don't get me wrong, it was also wonderful, and loving, and sexy and a million other things, but I guess I wasn't entirely prepared for the emotionality that came with his visit. I learned quite a bit about The Pilot, but also a lot about myself. I don't know whether to say I've totally recovered from all of that yet. So I'm just going to list some of the things I've discovered as of late. I'm sorry for the lack of inspiration here, but I guess these are things I need to get out of my system before I can move forward, and hopefully get myself out of this funk in time for Pride celebrations this weekend.

I am not broken. At least, not anymore. I've written before about the fact that, beginning a few years ago, I've had a particularly difficult time climaxing with partners. It didn't seem to be something physical, as I could get myself off, but there seemed to be some kind of emotional block or something. It hasn't been as pervasive lately, but I've still wondered if I would ever regain the ability I used to have to have several orgasms in a given session.

Answer: Yes. Oh. My. Fucking. God. Yes. Perhaps one of my favorite things about The Pilot is how willing he is to indulge and experiment with me and just roll with the result. In this case, he found a few of my buttons, and learned to press them long enough and in the right ways to get me off. Five times. In a row. I'm pretty sure that's never happened before. He seemed pretty proud of himself, and I think he certainly had good reason to be. Needless to say, I was an illiterate, malleable puddle of girl by the time he was done with me. I couldn't even form a sentence, let alone any of my signature snarky, self-confident comebacks.

But, as we learned another night, there is a limit. And my being unbroken doesn't mean I don't also freak out sometimes. I freaked out HARD. It wasn't particularly anything he did, but my head was somewhere else. And then I just stopped and floated away. My head wasn't in the moment, and my body doing something my head wasn't up to speed with just shut me down entirely. The Pilot was good about asking me what I needed and listening when I finally was able to speak (or even acknowledge that he was speaking to me) again, but it was a scary experience from me, just in how disconnected I could be.

Which lead me to start thinking about being disconnected from sex in general. Not especially from my partners, because they are an important part of my life, but from sex itself. I'm well aware of the cliched woman who, while her man is having sex with her, is counting ceiling tiles or going over the grocery list, but I've never been that woman. And I like not being her. And while I wasn't bored with The Pilot when I freaked out, I just realized I wasn't really there with him. And I didn't like it. I don't like feeling disconnected from what I'm doing, especially in the bedroom.

There are certain things in my past that have taught me how to disconnect what my body is doing from what my heart is feeling. I know this. And I've known I was capable of doing this. But I haven't done it lately. Or at least I didn't realize I had been doing it. But thinking about it, I have been, for years now, disconnecting relationships (little r or capital) from sex. Not that I don't have sex in my relationships, I certainly do... and good sex at that. But I don't often equate that action with being dependent upon the relationship at all. I was talking with my roommate the other night, and she said she'd never had sex with someone she really didn't like. I have. I've had sex with people I couldn't stand outside the bedroom. On repeated occasions. Because it was just sex. Sex itself has been so inherently separated from relationships, or even love or real feelings, that I had forgotten there was any other way to do it.

Talking to The Pilot about this, he was pointing out his philosophy, which is absolutely at the other end of the spectrum from mine. He ONLY has sex with people he really cares about. And as such, sex is intense with him. It was an interesting reminder of philosophies about sex that I haven't had, really, since I was about 16. I think there are valid reasons why I haven't felt that way in such a long time, but it was fascinating to be reminded that not everyone does that.

And it made me wonder if it was something I could go back to. I don't know if there's been too much... everything... in my life to think that way any more. But I want to give it a try. I'm not resorting back to monogamy, but I am pulling back a little bit. I don't totally know how to do that, so I'm fumbling my way through it. It has already started with pulling away from a few people - one being Jacob. I ended things with him... Romantic, sexual, and platonic. It was a selfish decision on my part, but he is somewhere where he needs me in a capacity I can't provide. And it wasn't fair to either of us for me to try to string him along in hopes of sparing his feelings. I should say that he handled it well, and like the grown-up I so want him to be. But there's always a little heartache involved.

It also involves not actually having sex (intercourse, although I hate that word) unless I really want to. Maybe that seems overly simplistic, and I don't have a brilliant explanation for why I'm holding out on penetrative sex, but it's a big deal to me. I want to see if it's something I can make special again. I don't necessarily want it to be the end-all, be-all, and to be honest I don't think I'll ever be at The Pilot's level of intensity about it, but I'm working on that as a model. And appropriating it for myself, and my personality and my history. And we'll see how it goes.

And finally, perhaps the scariest part among all this re-evaluating, there are things that have remained the same. Things I'm letting myself feel instead of quashing them like I usually do. And I must admit, they're driving me a little crazy. It's hard for me to not stop myself, convince myself what I'm feeling is wrong and unreciprocated and silly. It's kind of a losing battle.

But at least no one can say I didn't try.