A question of sex: the driving force

I have been through many different stages in my life: times where I have had no drive whatsoever, times where I have had what seems to be a regular level of drive and times where I have been climbing the wall like some kind of nymphomaniac.  There are definitely hormonal and mental angles to it but good old sexual chemistry can spark it, even when both of those negatives are plaguing you.  The one thing that I’ve always wondered though, what is it that fundamentally controls your sex drive?  I know that it can be chemically cancelled out completely (because I’ve experienced it for myself) and that if you’re feeling particularly worthless within yourself then the idea of sex does absolutely nothing to you but these things are always capable of being turned around at a second’s notice.

The longest ‘dry spell’ I’ve encountered since I became sexually active was 6 years.  The first few years were particularly difficult because my drive just didn’t know what was happening but it kinda did get to the stage that if you don’t use it, you lose it.  After a while I had come to the point that I just assumed that it was dead forever and nothing would bring it back, because the idea just didn’t spark anything any more.  Masturbation kinda became a stress reliever and sleep aid rather than something to keep a sex drive in check.  I think it just confirmed that, for me, if there was no physical connection with someone then the want for that emotion just didn’t exist.  It didn’t feel available to me, so what’s the point of longing for something that you can never have; just make the best with what you’ve got.    I feel that I have to point out that this wasn’t self-enforced celibacy, or a lack of a partner, as I was in a long term relationship during the entire time that happened to be with someone who had no interest in a mutually beneficial sexual relationship.   If my partner wasn’t sexually interested in me, there really was no point in encouraging the need for that to be encouraged within myself.   I still, to this day, wonder why I bothered marrying that man!

A fantastic point of contrast occurred when I decided to finally get out of that relationship and stumbled upon someone who was sexually interested in me.  It was a newly awakened drive that I never knew still remained within me.  I figured he must have found an attraction there if he wanted to have sex with me so my feelings of worthlessness seemed to be insignificant.  I didn’t care if he wanted a relationship, if it was just sex, if he had cravings for closeness or if any of it was specific to me because I was just enjoying having a libido again.

I often wonder whether the fact that the sexual side of me was neglected for so long was the reason that, when I got it back, it went through the roof.  There was no memory of what my drive was like before the dry spell, but I have a feeling that it was always higher than most.  Is libido connected to polyamory?  Is everything just a mixture of baggage?  Can you want to have a number of intimate relationships without the high libido to go with it?  Obviously I’m not discussing polygamy.  That’s a completely different can of worms!  I’m purely referring to polyamory.  I have always found my capability for love to be higher than average but I also know the capability is there to just need the one person to love and cherish.  This is very probably my subconscious searching for something it thought it could never have.

For the last few years, my requirement for sex had been low based on pain medication suppressing the want/need for the dopamine or endorphins.  This caused me to have quite a bit less interest in sex, generally, and the feelings of desire no longer existed within me.  Even as the pain medication lessened and virtually stopped, the drive never really returned.  Again it felt like it was gone for good as the desire no longer seemed to exist within me, even as my self confidence came back and my physical stature was in a greater condition than it was pre surgery.  All of this is what has made me question where our sex drives come from, as recently it has returned in spurts (no pun intended).

A side of me has reared its head again and it’s a welcome return to my life.  I enjoy every part of sex: the want, the need, the thoughts, the build up, the physical sensation, the emotional connection, the mental stimulation and the frenzied reactions when the desire is strongly mutual.  Even when there is only the physical sensation and none of the other stimulation I still enjoy sex.  It will never be as fulfilling than the times where everything is there, but physical sensation alone can be enjoyable.   I am aware that the current return of libido is based on a specific person being in my life, as the coincidence is far too great, but I still question whether libido is chemistry (based on hormonal release) or the need to ‘join together’ with the other person.  Is it the base instincts of wanting to populate the planet with a mixture of both genes?  Are they fundamental cave man instincts?  Is it general physical attraction and enjoying aspects of the person’s body that you want to experience?  Is it a mix of everything or is it one specific thing that holds the trump card where your sex drive is concerned?  Either way, I’m just happy to have the feelings around that make me crave physical intimacy as it always has been one of my favourite things!  The saving grace over everything is that: no matter how long you’ve endured a lack of sexual desire, it’s never gone for good.

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The fear of change

There appear to be 2 different types of personalities: people who embrace change and others who fear it.  I pretty consistently fall into the latter category.  I’m a creature of habit that likes to have things as predictable as physically possible.  Being able to read people helps me with that but there will always be times where my instincts will let me down or someone will be particularly good at covering any sign of what they really think or feel.  There are also the times where things are completely out of your control and whip the rug, that is your life, out from under your feet.

I have had ample warning of change looming before me but the idea of it getting closer seems to have, all of a sudden, given me a little tidal wave of panic/anxiety.  I know everything will be fine, I know that I will land on my feet, I know that things will never be as scary as I gear myself up to believe they will be and I know that I have enough common sense to stop me from doing anything too stupid, but none of that feels any less like a leap of faith.  They say leaps of faith are good for the soul, and doing something scary every day is meant to be cathartic, but it certainly isn’t easy!  My faith in humanity may have taken a little bit of a tumble but avoiding cynicism or any kind of resentment is my prime objective right now.

The life picture that I have for my future is very different from the life I have at the moment, but getting there will be something that will no doubt take me entirely by surprise.  Maybe this has all stemmed from my work situation but it’s my whole life that I’m referring to.  Thankfully contentment is something that I seem to find quite easily, but it does make me wonder whether I sell myself short based on my gratitude for the simple things.  I have become aware that it was probably a reason I stayed with my first husband for so long and why I never saw certain aspects of relationships as available to me.  There is also no doubt in my mind that it’s the reason I find drama queens and ingrates so entirely insufferable.

An article by an anthropologist was brought to my attention yesterday that made a lot of sense.  The generation that you’re born into and the generation your parents belong to are hugely influential in who you grow up to be.  As my parents were always so much older than me, it never occurred to me that it would affect who I would turn out to be compared to my peers.  In the majority, the people of my generation (generation Y) had baby boomers for parents.  They grew up with a generation of parents who knew that the important things in this world are stability, doing the best you can with what you have and making sure  that life was stable for your family.  The problem with this was that the baby boomers happened to grow up in the most economically successful era to date and were able to not only fulfil their potential but exceed it, financially speaking.  This, in turn, led to them expecting the same to continue for their children.  This heightened state of self worth was then passed on to their children, filling their heads that anything is possible and everyone could reach for the stars.  Obviously, this is entirely unrealistic, and the sudden down turn of the economy has made things kind of implode within society.  The important roles are seen as subservient and the level of pay to the most required industries do not reflect their worth where the people with entirely pointless jobs are paid more and more money.  Everyone my age expects to be able to be unbelievably rich, with hugely fulfilling jobs and gold encrusted lives but the reality is that expectations don’t necessarily meet real life‘s plans.

My parents were born one before and one during the war, which means I have been brought up with the same values that the baby boomers were brought up with.  Overall, this has left me a lot more satisfied with my life but may show me as being less ambitious than my peers.  It also explains why having my stability ripped out from under me is so entirely destroying my core.  I do wish that I had been brought up with more emphasis being placed on having to work hard through school, not that they were blasé about my education in any way because they weren’t, I think maybe I was just trusted at too young an age to fully comprehend the consequences of my choices through school.  Maybe it was down to my lack of self-worth that I settled or didn’t put enough importance on the things that were at my disposal but at least I got that self-worth at some point.  Better late than never, so they say.

So now I find myself with the thoughts that I think most older teenagers have about what journey I am going to take now.  I know what I want to achieve but have no idea how I am going to get there.  Maybe I have no option but to fly by the seat of my pants for a while, to see where it’s going to take me, and maybe listening to the universe (in as least a hippie way possible) is what I need to do to know what will be the best route for my life to take.  In the mean time I will surround myself, as much as possible, with the things and people that enrich my world and take some time to work out what I truly want.  I fell into this job, which became my world, maybe it’s time for a new world to find me.  I trust that it will, it always has in the past.

Immorality at its finest

This entry has sat in my draft folder for quite some time.  It was a subject that I found quite difficult to write about as it made me quite emotional while I was writing it.  The subject matter is something that I would like documented to look back on in the future but also something that I feel the need to get out there.  Treating anyone unjustly or immorally is something that should be spoken about when it happens because so many people shy away from publicising it when it happens.

As I sit at my desk at work, feeling sick and wishing I was anywhere but here I am finding it more and more difficult to find the motivation to remain here.  I have been the target of a small man, emasculated by his wife, dismissed by his children and seeking any way possible to pass his poison on to anyone else available.  The money has been thrown at the lawyers, the loop holes and grey areas have been found and it is their intention to harass me to the point of resigning in as efficient a way as possible.  The morality of their decision is unjustifiable and for standing up for my rights I am left in the unfortunate position of having to be a scape goat.

I would expect this kind of behaviour in big business but this is a charitable organisation, caring for hundreds of children on a daily basis.  The thing that makes it even worse is the fact that the person doing the victimisation is one of the parents expecting us to care for his children.  I am aware that the fact that his child openly adores me and my husband grates on him to the very core of his soul, but is unbelievable to me why anyone would want their child to be in a care environment that they weren’t close to their carers.  To have reduced morale, so easily, to ground level is impressive in one fell swoop.  The greatest way of doing that is by purely targeting the long serving members of staff who have shown their dedication and ability by being with the organisation for so many years.

So, the decision is made, my resignation will go in the day before the next meeting was scheduled for me to be bombarded by my next tirade of humiliation.  I was originally going to tread water until mid september, so that I would be finishing work at the christmas holidays, as my intention was to not disrupt the children too much.  There is no way that 3 weeks worth of pay is worth that level of personal attack, however.  It is not my decision that I am to no longer have my place in this club so it is not my responsibility to worry about any disruption involved.  I have put up a good fight for the last 9 months, and have gone out kicking and screaming, but there is no way that I could ever feel justified in teaching the children our anti-bullying policy when the board feel perfectly justified in breaching every part of it towards the staff.

In a stamp of killing them with kindness, I am going to post a letter (hand addressed to ensure reading) to every parent informing them of the upcoming change.  Of course in the truly sweet manner of thanking them for letting me get to know their child(ren) and to have watched them grow and flourish in the years that I have had the gift of their company, while outlining the reasons in which I have been backed into the corner of having no option but to resign.  Hopefully it will be enough for the parents to ask questions but not enough for me to look like I am throwing mud.  Their reasons are unjustifiable, especially since they have thrown so many thousands of pounds fighting the issue so it’ll be interesting to see if any of the parents will actually feel like the outcome was justifiable.

So the time has come and gone, my resignation is in, it has been accepted and the letters to the parents have just been posted.  I have had no feedback from that as they won’t have received them yet.  I’m not expecting any amount of feedback but will be interesting to see if I actually get any.  The cloud has lifted since I no longer have to worry about things hanging over my head but I’m sure, once the gravity of my life changing so hugely hits me, I will enter a slump again.

I have been asked to work until the end of the year, for stability and extra time for me to get everything organised before I go, so at least money isn’t going to be a worry for an extra month.  There is a family agreement in place that January is to be a time of calm relaxation where I get on top of things in the house without having to worry about looking for work.  A chance to clear my mind and deal with any sadness before moving onto the next chapter of my life.  I will see friends as much as possible, be me for an entire month and just get back to ground level before I start looking for work.  I am incredibly lucky that I am able to have this time but is something that I feel will be desperately needed.

In the usual manner of the money fairy turning up when I am worrying the most, my husband has been given a new job.  He will be on better hours, a substantial promotion and a much better rota so i will be able to plan my life a little easier since we’ll know what he’ll be working far in advance.  At the moment, we only are able to work on a couple of days’ notice of shift pattern so to be able to know what to expect is amazing.  Things that people take for granted are the things that I will be cherishing the most!

For the next 16 weeks of my life, I will be making the most of the things and people I adore more than I’ve ever truly realised but know that my time has come to move on to the next stage.  I still have no idea what that will be but will be interesting to see what I gravitate towards.  Flying by the seat of my pants has never been so scary yet so liberating at the same time.  I will be interested to hear how things go when I am gone but will try my hardest not to dwell on what i’ve lost.  Time to look to the future, the next stage of my life is a mystery right now but I’m sure i’ll land on my feet somehow.

Theme tunes for your life

Whether you realise it or not, there are songs that have very specific meanings in your world.  These songs are specific to you but only ever really become noticeable when they are connected to someone else.  This entry will be the theme tunes specific to my world.  I think it says a lot about someone, the music that they connect to themselves.  Everyone realises they have songs that remind them of certain people or times in their lives but do we have our own personal theme tune?  Is it one for every mood that you have?  Either way, I’m going to share a few that remind me of things and explain them.  If anything, it’ll be a good reminder for me to look back on the things that sparked my imagination in 2013 🙂

I will have to say, however, there are songs that I want to put on here where the youtube video is awful but it’s the only decent copy of the relevant song that I can find.  For that I truly apologise but don’t want the song missed out!

Let’s start with what I would generally class as the theme tune of my life:

This family is the epitome of how cool I wish my family to be, while sharing exactly how I feel about my happy place.  This is one of those videos where I genuinely chose this exact version of the song along with the video.

Times that I’ve shared with my Dad and my hometown (including a mural with my grandad in the picture)  would be connected to this song:

I looked after one of the singer’s children for a few years and they are truly a lovely family.  This has become the trademark song for the football (Soccer to my American friends) team that I was raised following because of the geographical location of their home ground.  I grew up seeing the scenery in this video, every single day.  That’s a pretty big deal really.

Best Friend 3:

No, this is not for the cheesy sentiment, or the total power ballad that it is but purely for the many, many nights we have found ourselves in stomach cramps laughing at the Ken Leeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee version that I have annoyingly sung to her when this video has come on in the background.  (see below)

Best Friend 1

The obsession that she had with this band (well, lead singer), during the days of hormones and angst, will forever be emblazoned into my memory and bring a smile to my face every time I hear it.

My Sandman

This is the prime example of a shitty video to go with a song that I refused to leave out!  What National Geographic pictures have to do with either the song subject or even lilt of the song baffles me but needed to be included, all the same.  If you listen to what the song is saying, it’s pretty much the story of our lives lol.

Ex Husband

You can feel the anger still attached to that one, just by sentiment.  I need say no more!

Hubbin

For no reason of song content or any kind of anger, it’s just what reminds us of each other for some strange reason.  Purely for the reason that I’ve just noticed both husband have the same band attached to them, I have to put the bonus song in that  would have been our first dance had we got married in this country.  As it stands, we never had a first dance, we had picked it though.

There are important people in my life who have no theme tune at this point in time, and others who have too many songs to narrow it down to one specific one to remind me of them.  It looks particularly harsh on Best Friend 2 but her tastes have become so diverse over the years that pinning her down to one song is impossible.  Realistically, there is one specific track that reminds me of her but what it could say about her is unfair as it’s a memory, not specific to the sentiment of the song!

The next bank of tracks are purely things that affect or plague me for a variety of random reasons

Current 2 happy songs:

purely for how amazing this dude’s band is!

purely because NKOTB got hot and they’re bigging up the fat chicks!

My sad songs:

this is for when i’m teary eyed

this is for when i’m in a big ol’ black pit of nothingness.  I have very obvious issues!

 

I’ve just realised I could spend all day linking videos to people and moods that I have but this is a good indication of the person I am, the people I have in my life and how our relationships reflect.

Sandman 2013

So, here we are, part 3 of the ‘will they/won’t they?’ of my life.  Actually, this part is split into 2 little sections but are just as important as the previous stages of our story.  This begins by going back to the very start of the year.  I had just had my last surgery and was in bed, yet again.  Christmas and New Year had been and I was due to be off work for a few weeks to let the wound heal and my leg to recover.  Things were healing way better than any of us could have anticipated so things were feeling pretty positive at the time.  Out of the blue, a familiar e-mail address popped up in my inbox with a random “hello”.  My heart just stopped and I panicked.  It was almost as if I went into automatic pilot when I replied, as if it was going to be time sensitive for me to respond or he’d disappear again.  Before I knew it, I was texting Best friend 1 a panicky “help” as if I hadn’t already responded.  She always loves a little bit of gossip so just reassured me that wanting to communicate was totally normal and understandable so I should totally do it!

4 years had passed since we had spoken last and it felt like I’d lived through an entire lifetime with the amount of stuff that had gone on in my life in that time.  We had a lot of information to swap and it was almost like catching up with an old friend.  In a lot of ways it was exactly that, but there was a lot more to it.  There was a huge part of me that knew there was always going to be a time where he would pop back up but it’s just one of those things that takes you by surprise when it actually does happen.

Once we had started talking, it became routine incredibly quickly and my life seemed a brighter place to be.  My life is always a brighter place when we’re in contact and it seems to be reciprocal.  As always, we became very honest and open almost immediately and spoke about everything that we’d thought and felt the last time we were in contact.  For the first time we had truly acknowledged the fact that we had a cycle.  Start talking, fall ridiculously in love, spend time together, need to spend more time together, feel the need to make the decision as to whether we are going to change our lives and spend it together then one of us backs off to avoid any hurt.  The fact that we’d discussed the cycle made it feel all the more imminent and scary.

E-mails were swapped almost every night and we spoke about everything.  The love was there, just as strongly as it had ever been before, and it still felt the same as if no time had passed since we met those 14 years ago.  There were discussions about the conclusions that had been reached the last time we were together, although it was not the reason contact was made this time round.  Nothing had changed in his world and I had experienced the usual ups and downs of a relationship.  It just seemed to be the curiosity that had got too much after the usual thoughts and to touch base again.   The more we talked about it happening, the quicker we got to the point of realising that at some point it would be likely that we’d be wanting to make a decision and  came to the conclusion that spending time together was a bad idea.  It was agreed that spending time together would absolutely lead to us getting carried away and neither of us wanted to get to that point, so the only option seemed to be to step back before it happened.  The agreement was there that we would always be in each other’s lives, and if we ever needed anything we could always ask, just not necessarily as much contact as we were having at that time.

The want and the need were there to spend time together.  We knew that the chemistry was there just as strongly as it ever had been and it wasn’t from lack of want that we never spent time together.  Part of it was the fact that it wasn’t as simple as it had been the last time we’d been in contact but mostly this time it was not wanting to put each other into a horrible situation.  It’s never been about sex but the craving for the physical intimacy is so huge because the feelings attached are so strong.  Hey, at least we proved that we could be in contact without it reaching that point but it doesn’t mean that it was easy.

My world was a bit of a turbulent place once my Sandman had slipped into the shadows again and I know that I missed just having him in my life.  There was a big void left and I ended up chatting to try and fill that.  A stupid idea but at least now I realise that it was because I missed him and tried to distract myself from it.

I tried to carry on the rest of the year in the same way that I had in all of the other times that I’d not had him around, but the thoughts were there stronger than ever and missing him plagued me.  In the past I was always able to just accept that I would see him in the future and could just get on with life, but this year seems to have been different for me.  Maybe having the chance to put everything down in writing to make sense of my mind has made me more aware of the things I feel and need.  I blame this for causing part 3b!

After only maybe 5 months, I cracked and sent an e-mail this time.  So, we had gone from 10 years gap to 4 years gap to only 5 months this time.  It was nice for me to have the chance to spring the butterflies on him for a change.  There was no real intent in sending him the message, mostly just the need to tell him that I was thinking about him so much.  I felt it was wrong to be missing him and not to tell him.  Everyone should know if someone is thinking nice thoughts about them.  With almost everyone that i’ve spoken about, I informed him that I had spoken about him here and gave him the opportunity to read what I had written.  Surprisingly, he has embraced my thoughts a lot more enthusiastically than i would have expected.  It’s nice to have the chance to get an opinion on a memory, to confirm that everything I remember is true.  Knowing that the intensity of feelings about any of my memories are matched by the person I’m remembering so fondly is the most amazing thing in the world.

Oddly, this entry has taken me the longest out of any that I’ve ever written.  I think this is because it is such a special thing to me that putting my thoughts into words seems to be impossible.  I think having the chance for him to see exactly what happens in my head has helped him understand just how mutual the whole thing is.  I’m not sure if there was any kid of doubt in his mind before, but at least now he knows everything I truly feel about him.  Knowing that in the past he has made almost all of his decisions based on what he felt was the greater good of my life is something that means a lot to me.    I have no idea where the next part of this story will end up but we’re nowhere near the end yet.  To be honest, I don’t think there ever will be an end and that is a relief.  We’ll just continue to fly by the seat of our pants and go with what feels right at any given time.  It’s all we can do!  Either way, there will be more to this story, at the moment it’s just life.

Dependency – blessing or curse?

Dependency seems to be one of those things that people fear.  They kinda take it for granted where children are concerned, almost like it was part of the contract that they signed when they decided that they were going to make a mini version of themselves, but don’t seem to realise that it also comes with the territory of friends and partners.  Do you think if we all sat and thought about what was involved in genuinely caring for or loving someone else that we’d enter into relationships with anyone?  Can you really justify it to yourself, if you don’t feel the natural instinct to want to protect that person from all negativity, to remain ‘close’ with that person?  For me, the idea of love and dependency go hand in hand.

I’m often asked by best friend 3 whether I feel like she’s too dependent on me.  In my world, if I love someone, then I’ll do anything that I need to (within my own physical/mental/emotional limitations) for their life to be easier.  This can only happen, however, if the person I love isn’t expecting or requiring me to run to their aid just for their own mental need for attention.  The reason she continues to ask me about her dependency is because, in a lot of ways, I am currently more similar to a carer than just a friend.  She lives on her own, is quite a bit younger than me, has no parents local enough to be able to help her and has had severe medical issues to the point of leaving her pretty much bedridden for a large portion of the last month.  From being in the situation of being bedridden and alone for 16 hours a day for months on end I could never expect anyone in my life to go through that, never mind someone I love.  All I’ve been doing is going there after work every day to make sure she has food and company so anything that needs done can happen and that she doesn’t get more ill from lack of food.  This last fortnight I have also been driving her to and from work as she’s left with no option but to get back to work even though she’s still horribly poorly.

There have been occasions where I have been really tired from being away from the house for such large chunks of time but it has never once bothered me that I am specifically going there all of the time.  If anything, it makes me angry that nobody else who is in her life and lays claim to being the greatest friend to her over anybody has bothered to take the time to think of how her life must actually be or what she would need to survive.  I have never understood the mentality of someone wanting to make such a public gesture of ownership over anyone they weren’t choosing to marry!  What does it matter if you are ‘their greatest friend’?  A friend should be a friend, regardless of how close you may or may not be.  Friendship is an unwritten/unspoken contract that requires you to love that person for everything they are.  That’s how I distinguish the difference between my friends and my 3 best friends.  My general friends I would see as acquaintances (i’m not including the romantic side in this, obviously) rather than friends and my 3 best friends would really only be the people I would actually class as my friends but as everyone else’s interpretation of what friendship is it makes it easier to define them in this way.

If you really do love someone for everything they are then there will be no such thing as spending too much time with them.  3 and I have a much higher than normal (fully clothed) level of physical intimacy.   No sexual aspect but will cuddle up and watch tv similar to the manner you would with a partner.  In fact, the majority of our interactions are as if we are in a long term romantic relationship.  I feel truly at home in her home, we share absolutely everything in our worlds and know for a fact that nobody could ever understand our dynamics.  We never take for granted how special that is but occasionally worry in case we are being too draining on the other.  We are both completely comfortable with each other having other best friends and have no need for a feeling of public ownership but are still aware that there is a level of ownership there in our own private world.  We tell each other we love each other multiple times in a day and often will make the statement “my, (insert name here)”.  Any future partners of hers will feel threatened by our relationship based on a lack of understanding but, thankfully, my husband understands it as it is because he’s been able to watch and evaluate us in our natural setting together.  He snuggles with her just as intimately as I do because he seems to understand that the sexual aspect just isn’t there.  We’ve just morphed into a kind of family.

I am lucky that with 1,2 and 3 we all have the type of relationship that if something happened in our worlds, and we were floundering, then we could ask the other to drop everything and meet for emergency purposes.  This has been claimed by all 4 of us at different times in our lives but we know that it can only be saved for the times that we really need the other so that the importance is always there.  This, in itself is a form of dependence.  I depend on the people who I am closest to in my world and would expect them to want to depend on me just as solidly.  There is nothing inappropriate about that, it just is what it is.  It does also dictate that I could never truly feel close to a drain.  You know the type, someone whose life is all about the constant drama and wants nothing more than your sympathy to get their claws into you.  They NEED the constant love and adulation yet never appreciate it.  I couldn’t be around someone who didn’t appreciate the little things in life.  The requirement is there for me to feel loved, respected and appreciated by them but never any more than I feel for that person already.

I’ve realised that I have a level of dependence on other people in my world, but that is something I would always keep to myself as I don’t usually know how reciprocal it ever actually is.  That dependence is, in the majority, emotional and putting that onto the other person is never healthy!  That is, unless the other person expresses a similar instinct.

Whether you see someone being dependent on you as a blessing or a curse is purely down to the way you view your world.  Depending on the circumstances, it can be either but overall it should always feel like a blessing.  If it doesn’t then maybe you should rethink how important that person truly is to you.

The suffocation of cabin fever

After having had the opportunity to spend the day, as I pleased, with nobody to worry about, it made me realise just how many people take that exact thing for granted.  I always knew that when we were to move in with Dad that things would be a little awkward, but I don’t think I could have considered just how claustrophobic it would become.  There is a huge part of me that loves that we live with Dad because it means that I can make sure he’s not alone too much, eats regularly and can basically live for free but there’s a fine line between giving someone space and acting like a lodger.  Add to all of that the fact that financially it means we can get ourselves back on our feet after years of money worries to be able to get ourselves sorted for the future.  Then there’s the huge factor of me having promised my Mum before she died that I’d look after him still holds true to my heart.

I can’t sit in the lounge with my Dad for too long because there’s only so much fucking NCIS anyone can watch!  That and the lack of available oxygen can be a serious problem.  There is no flexibility with what is on the tv, at any given time, so the only time I tend to be in here is when we are all having dinner together or if I’ve come in from somewhere and fill him in on what’s gone on during my day.  We sometimes congregate in the kitchen and talk but we’re all about space.  With that comes the fact that it means I spend my entire time in the house in our bedroom.  The bedroom is so cramped that  the only floor space is one person wide around the whole double bed.

There has never been a time in my life where I have wanted to live anywhere other than the city, until recently.  I grew up in the city and always enjoyed that you could be anywhere in 30 minutes by car but now I find myself prioritising extra bedrooms and garden space over anything else.  I know I’ve wanted to have a family forever and the fact that I’ve not been able to so far has made me crave fostering all the more.  Being stuck in this ridiculous battle at work is only adding to this craving.  Undoubtedly there’s an element of fight or flight where flight seems to win the battle more often than the fight seems to.  Chances are that it’s caused by the futility of the battle but it may just be easier to want to escape to somewhere new and start all over again.  Ideally I’d just escape to my happy place but, as always, the main thing standing in my way is the lack of money to manage it.  This just makes me want to focus on managing to sort us out for a better life in the future so that it’ll be easier for us to escape annually, if possible.

I know I shouldn’t complain or moan, and I really do appreciate all of the good things that come with the situation, but so much of the claustrophobia is such a new feeling to me that it’s taking me an age to adjust to.  I’ve come from a situation where I basically lived naked in my flat to always having to have clothes on.  Having the tv on in the background no longer exists in my world and the general tension can be unbearable sometimes.  When you add in the fact that sex can only ever be something that is silent then it just makes you want to break out and escape.  I need space to be me and the psychological effect of living with a parent is that you always know that it’s their house so their rules.  That’s fine when you’re a kid and you’ve not thought of any real rules for yourself but once you’ve been out into the big bad world and reached the age of 35 you kinda need to live by your own rules.

It’s funny, when you do feel holed in, you start to see everything in your world differently.  You realise the things that are truly important to you, the things you are grateful for but most of all you realise what you want for yourself in the future.  These are things that you never truly know until you have them taken away.  Small things, simple things.  I’ve never been someone to have a big, long list of things that I want to do or places that I want to see or things that I want to have.  I’m pretty low maintenance in that way.  Even the things that I do want, I don’t think I’d ever feel like I’d failed if I never managed to achieve it.  Like I said when I was 10, I only ever want to make a difference and if just one person’s life is better for having had me in it then I’ve done something right.  Nothing more, nothing less.  I already feel like I’ve achieved that so, realistically, if my life was taken away from me tomorrow I’d still feel like my life has been fulfilled.  Anything else is just a bonus.

For now, my wishes for my life and for the future are love, contentment, a house with a garden and bedrooms to fill with little people and the chance to visit my happy place every year without having to panic about where the money would be coming from.  All things that people take for granted every day but something that, at the moment, feels completely out of reach.

Sandman returns

Since writing the first part of this story, all I’ve been looking forward to is having enough quiet time to be able to write the second part.  There’s so much of this part of the story that’s not quite clear in my mind, that having the chance to put it into some semblance of order will be a relief.  The introduction was easy because it’s a story that’s been swimming round my head for 14 years, but 4 years is still relatively recent and I’ve been medicated for 3 of those!  There are chunks of the story that have come into conversation multiple times over the years and other parts that have popped into my mind on a surprisingly regular basis,but as for the clarity of events, that’s not quite there yet.  It’s all there, I just need to file it into order.

In the gap of time that we had no contact (and the fact that it was 10 years is surreal, to say the least!) I don’t think there was ever any great amount of time that he wasn’t in my mind in some capacity or other.  The majority of the time was probably spent kicking myself for having made such stupid life decisions and trying to continually justify to myself that it must have been for the greater good or it wouldn’t have happened.  The fact that his birthday falls on a internationally celebrated day kinda makes it impossible for that annual reminder to die.  That and the fact it’s the month after mine means it’s the next logical reminder.  Silly things remind you of someone and you sometimes don’t even realise you’re thinking of them until you check yourself.

So, It was 2009 and everything was set for me to marry my current husband.  On having lunch with either best friend 1 or 2 (I’m not quite clear of which one it was, but probably 2) the conversation came up about whether I was sure about what I was doing.  At that point shit hadn’t fully hit the fan with us, and the connection that he and I have always had was undeniable, but found myself saying that the one and only person who could make me wonder if I was doing the right thing would be if Sandman randomly popped up out of nowhere.  Almost like saying Beetlejuice‘s name too many times, as if by magic, 2 days later I got a “remember me?” on friends reunited.  Eh?  Really? Did I remember him?  Obviously he would have had no idea whatsoever that all I had done for the previous 10 years was think about him but did he really think he could be that forgettable?  That familiar cold chill went down my spine and my tummy went into a whole flight of butterflies, but the coincidence was just too much.  The answers that I was seeking were being placed firmly in my lap.  I was excited, surprised, shocked, flattered, happy and petrified all at the same time and I’d not even replied yet!  It’s almost like your subconscious knows that an action you are undertaking is way more huge than your conscious could ever let you realise.  Whatever happened from this point on could be, potentially, life changing.

The banter resumed, as if no time had passed, almost immediately.  There was obvious relief that I hadn’t snubbed him or literally forgotten about him and neither of us was looking for anything (again, consciously) but there was the undertone of being fully aware of how dangerous contact actually was.  He was settled (although bored and possibly unhappy) in his world and mine was going down a very set path at that point  but ‘what ifs’ are dangerous.  It was obvious that it was a mutual thing that we had always had an unknown hanging over our heads, but to slot straight back into exactly the same dynamics we had all those years ago was comforting and did nothing but confirm that whatever we happened to share was special.  He was lucky enough to have had kids and I was the one that never had.  Ironic really considering it was my only dream and before me he was just never fussed at the idea of the little buggers.  It took us next to no time to realise that us having this thing hanging over our heads wasn’t helping us so we’d have to just go with whatever was right at the time to try and either get answers or closure.  Hey, it sounded good at the time!

I genuinely have no idea how long we were talking before we got disturbingly honest with each other, knowing our track record probably about 2 messages.  Again, I have no idea how long we were talking before we decided that we had to spend time together.  All in the intention of gaining answers to those huge questions, you understand, obviously would have no ulterior motive other than that.  Either of us.  Yes, we were this delusional!  Whatever it was, we had to justify to ourselves the uncontrollable need to be in each other’s company again.  It had been too long and we needed to know if things actually would have turned out the way we’d suspected all of those years ago or if anything would have fizzled or died by then.  No fizzling, no death, damn that chemistry messing with our lives!

Seeing someone you’ve not seen in 10 years, with a memory of them just as fresh in your mind as the last time you saw that person is surreal when they actually look 10 years older!  He looked like a grown up, that’s just wrong!  The things that hadn’t ever changed were the expressions, the accent, the warmth, the bashfulness, the sense of humour and the obvious love that just flowed from every part of him.  I felt at home again.  All of those things just made me love more the fact that he looked like a grown up.  We weren’t kids anymore and still all of those things that we felt were real, that was a huge surprise.  Surprising, confusing and yet comforting at the same time.

How could we have been so stupid when we were younger to not realise what it was that we had?  We knew about our own side of things but weren’t confident enough to think for a second that the other would be in the same mindset.  This had seemed to become crystal clear that we shoulda, woulda, coulda all of those years ago but they say everything happens for a reason.  I had my own flat at that time and I never took for granted the space and freedom that it afforded me, but it also made things all the easier for us to spend sneaky time together!  We saw each other a few truly amazing times, but often talked about getting the chance to spend a whole night together without having to just snatch time.  Any time we did spend together was fully appreciated and cherished but we just needed more and more.  By some kind of miracle we actually managed an overnight, but the fear/guilt was starting to strike him by then.  It was becoming more and more obvious that we had the decision stage looming up ahead of us and our logical sides have always been the driving force of our minds.  It was exactly the same decision we had 10 years previously but it wasn’t just me making it this time.  If things had been different, there’s not a doubt in my mind that we would have given us a go but he had kids to think about and the idea that he felt like he was ruining my life seemed to plague him.  He never was ruining my life but he took the responsibility onto himself because he’s a truly good person and seemed to want to protect me from it all.

Just as our previous cycle had dictated, he ended up stepping into the shadows to try and avoid carrying the responsibility of hurting anyone.  We had discussed the fact that we had expected to get hurt ourselves and it just seemed like the lowest damage point.  Neither of us could have lived with ourselves if we ever felt like we’d ruined anyone’s lives so, as seems to be our way, we got put on hold.  No closure, no end, just hold.  That’s all everything has ever felt like for me, like we’re just waiting for the right circumstances to align to give us permission to be exactly that – us.  We will continue to concentrate on the greater good but there’s only so much that you can put yourself last.  Sometimes you just need to be a little selfish and do things that people wouldn’t understand or necessarily agree with, just to maintain your sanity.  There is a love unlike any other but as a great man once said “the course of true love never did run smooth”.

Enter Sandman – the beginning

Every now and then you come across one of those people that you know is going to be a part of your life forever.  Given, it’s not always the most positive thing in the world but there’s something special about knowing that a connection will exist with someone forever, no matter how many gaps of time you have to endure without getting to spend time together.  I’ve been fortunate enough to have encountered a few different people who I feel will be a part of my life/soul forever but every single one of them has been in a different capacity.  Are we only meant to have one soul mate?  Am I just greedy?  Can you share soul mates?  Not that I think that everyone who is connected to your soul forever is your actual soul mate.

My Sandman was the very first person that I started talking to regularly online.  It was 1999, I was engaged to what would turn out to be an hugely abusive first husband, I was continually alienated in the house by said fiancé, felt incredibly lonely most of the time and pretty much felt worthless.  This whole new online world had entered my life and geocities was my chat facility of choice.  I stumbled upon it out of nowhere, I just wanted to know what online chatting was all about.  We’re talking about the days of dial up connection so there was no frills involved in any of the communication.  I was a newbie and had no idea the connections that could exist from getting to know someone by talking to them online.

I remember the night that I first started talking to Sandman, strangely.  Fiancé and I had been to see ‘enemy of the state’ in the cinema and (as usual) he had gone to bed as soon as we’d got back into the house.  I didn’t tend to get tired at 8pm, most people don’t when they’re 21 and it’s the weekend, so I retreated to my tiny room to bum about the internet.  Making noise in the house wasn’t an option for me so my computer was the perfect time passer!  Watching this communication was fascinating.  I worked out what all of the little acronyms meant so that I didn’t have to look stupid by asking and eventually dived in.  It was just a general room with a whole bunch of people all talking at once about something random.  It was expected for people to dive into the conversation and if you happened to hit it off with someone in the room then a private chat would generally ensue.  I was Holly in those days, Katariah was yet to be born!  This was the time of the scare mongering to give absolutely no hint of any true information as to your actual identity.  Ridiculous now, looking back, but it served me well all the same.

There is absolutely no memory of the actual conversation that was had or the timescales of us talking but I know we talked for hours that night and then continued to look for each other every time we happened to be online.  I wish I could remember how long we were actually talking before phone numbers were swapped but I would think it would be a while since I’m pretty sure I’ve always been wary about new people.  He made me feel good about myself at a time where I felt invisible, there had been no lying, no hiding my home situation and it just seemed like we were really good friends who enjoyed each other’s company.  Meeting seemed like a logical step so we decided to meet at the cinema.  Not actually having to talk probably felt better since we’ve both always been a tiny bit shy but I remember really wanting to hold his hand.  All we’d done was talk for the longest time so just being in each other’s company was awesome, no matter how bad the film actually was!  After the film (and a short discussion about him definitely not having any kind of axe in the back of his car!) I accepted the offer of a ride home.  We discussed having a night in at my house when my parents were due to be away on holiday to get drunk and watch movies, which sounded like amazing fun!  There was nothing uncomfortable about the journey until it was time for me to get out of the car.  Neither of us knew what was appropriate and I knew I wanted to kiss him but didn’t want to be forward so I squeezed his leg and thanked him for his generosity before getting out and walking to my door.

It’s funny, thinking back, just how little we actually spoke that night but I remember we had arranged to be speaking online in a couple of nights’ time.  We were completely different people online than we were together in real life, and still kinda are to this day!  When we did get to talk again we gave ourselves the chance to completely analyse the evening that we’d spent together, something that I always enjoyed.  We were honest, open and I remember having the feeling at the time that I had opened up a can of worms.  When I decided to tell him that I had wanted to kiss him I remember my spine turning cold in fear!  Thankfully, all I received back was relief because he’d been thinking the same thing.  This, however, added a little bit more awkwardness and nervousness to our previously arranged drunken, movie night sleepover.  Not that it was going to stop movie night from happening, just made it a little bit less predictable!  Well, I say less predictable, maybe in a few ways it kinda made things a little bit more predictable!

So, movie night happened, we drank a LOT and fast!  I’m pretty sure we made our way through 3 films, not that I remember us actually fully watching any of them and only one of those films being for the predicted reason.  We started the evening very firmly on our own sides of the couch and every time one of us came back from the kitchen or bathroom we just seemed to be sitting with our legs a little bit closer than they were before.  This was until I snatched the opportunity of him going to the loo for me to steal the entire couch and on his return his playful fight for it back ended ridiculously quickly in us kissing!  The changes in us from that one night seem to have stayed with us for the rest of our lives.  We talked all through the night, cuddling, touching, kissing and just being completely comfortable together.  Sharing a single bed didn’t even seem that cramped that night!

As my parents were away all week, he arranged to come and stay another couple of nights but on the final night decided that it would be more sensible if we didn’t as things were getting really intense, really qickly (for both of us).  He took a step back to see if he could just try and switch it all off because someone was likely to get hurt by the way we naturally were together.  Yeah, that didn’t work, so by the time we were online again the conversations that we had were more open and honest than I think anyone has ever had online!  This kinda set the tone for the future but is something that is hugely endearing yet unbelievably dangerous!  Honestly expressing real feelings to someone from what feels like the safety of a keyboard doesn’t stop the reality of the information setting in.  We were openly admitting feelings that we had that, if you ever do sit back and think about them, can be petrifying!  There is so much responsibility that goes with falling in love that giving yourself the chance to analyse it is unsettling!  Either way, we gave us a go.

I made excuses and spent weekends with him at his house and, as a pairing, we were really low maintenance.  We almost slotted into the kind of relationship that we’d been living together for years every time I was there.  He could still do his thing and i was happy to lie and watch tv with every now and then one of us going over to the other to show a little bit of affection.  It was, oddly, perfect.  We could be in the car together and exchange things that we needed without having to ask as if the routine had been there forever.  Connection, in the purest sense of the word.

The less interest that I received at home, the less it seemed to matter and i started to be careless with my communication.  We would call each other fairly regularly and with my fiancé going to bed at somewhere between 7 and 8 every night I didn’t really care that I was on the phone, as he was supposed to be sleeping.  This was fine until the night he came in and told me to “tell him goodbye and hang up”.  That was an interesting night.  I was honest about it all (after a little bit of questioning) but told him that I wasn’t willing to let my Sandman go.  For some strange, unknown reason he decided that he would give me time to make my mind up.  So here I was, with a fiancé and a boyfriend with no idea what to do.  I had a house and cat with my fiancé but a horrible relationship while i had the most amazing relationship with my Sandman but we were still very early into who we were together.  I suppose there was still the huge part of me that believed that I’d never get married and all I ever wanted was my own children so, no matter how bad the relationship was with my fiancé, he was still willing to marry me!  After the 3 months of having the 2 of them at the same time, the fork in the road caught up with me.  Purely for the reason of my own twisted logic of having the responsibility of the house and the cat I chose my fiancé.  Yes, it turned out to be a stupid (and wrong) choice but felt like the only really available one to me at the time.  My Sandman was a good man and took it upon himself to step into the shadows to make my life easier.  It hurt but I respected him for it.

For the longest time, if I couldn’t sleep, I’d lie in bed and remember silly times of us watching tv and his affection towards me.  He was the memory that calmed me down enough to be able to drift off to sleep happy.  That really should have told me something at the time but I was just happy that the memory was there as I didn’t know of any way that I’d ever be able to contact him again.

This is just the beginning story, he has had so much more influence in my life but this seems like a good way to introduce him.  He deserves a proper introduction before I start talking about him!

A question of sex: the debate of size

Size is one of those contentious issues when discussing sex.  It’s something that people take personally, regardless of their gender or the circumstances that it’s discussed.  People often think that the only relevance of size is the male‘s role but 2 pieces fitting together means that both parts have a certain contribution to be made to the size counter.  For once, I don’t even think that I’ll have to subcategorise about anything as it’s all the same debate.

People often say that size doesn’t matter.  That’s bullshit, it does.  If you do happen to be genetically gifted or unfortunate then you have to change your game accordingly and neither situation is anything to be proud or ashamed of, as you had absolutely no say in the matter at any point.  It wasn’t your achievement or failure to have.  Whatever your gender or genetic composition, then the key to everything is the pelvic floor!  The tighter your muscles, the more control you will have during sex, the better it will be for both parties.

I have experienced both tiny and huge parts, and have been able to enjoy both completely.  The best sex I have had, however, happens to have been with the more gifted  or average sized males.  I am lucky, in so far as I have been told by even the smallest male that I have a small opening and am quite ‘tight’.  This may mean that it would be easier in finding enjoyment from even the smallest penis.  I can also understand how some people would wonder if it was in yet.  I had one circumstance like that with someone when, not only was his penis tiny but, he had absolutely no idea how to get the angle right to be able to penetrate with it effectively.  He would bounce up and down (kinda like you would if you were having a spasm on a trampoline!) and act like he was having sex but he was lucky if it was rubbing against my outer lips!  I know I got pretty much no sensation from him whatsoever.  I’ve had someone else with a similarly small dick but we found doggy was the most sensible option for us and had regular sex during our relationship.  This guy couldn’t even manage doggy and I have no idea how that is even possible!

Something that seems to be a common misconception is that people’s perception of a big dick depends entirely on length; this is also not the case!  I have encountered men with quite long dicks but are really narrow, and other guys who have an average length but are thicker than usual.  Each have their own valid advantages and disadvantages and both would be classed as large.  Personally, I would take girth over length but length can also be useful when I want the more forceful type of penetration.

The one thing that seems to be pretty standard with someone who happens to be unfortunately proportioned is that they try to overcompensate with oral.  Don’t get me wrong, someone being enthusiastic, or even just willing, to make you cum using their mouth is something that should be commended but it should never be confused as a replacement for decent penetrative sex.  It’s almost like the state of mind involved is that, since they’re so obviously disappointing anyway, there’s no reason for them to learn how to prolong the act at all.  In my experience, everyone who has happened to have a really small willy happens to also be verging on a hair trigger.  This is no word of exaggeration but anything from a long session of 5 minutes to 5 strokes, if you’re lucky!

Is it the case that all cocks have the same number of nerves, therefore the smaller the member the more sensitive it is?  It would make the most sense, but even trying to get someone with a hair trigger to work on their pelvic floor to try and control it a little better is almost impossible!  That’s not to say that everyone would be unwilling, just the ones that I have encountered, and that there will always be people out there who will want to please as much as they can.  Some people just seem to understand what works and what doesn’t but the ones who don’t naturally understand, seem to write themselves off as if they’ll never understand.  That’s a general thought process that i’d never understand anyway.

None of this is specifically aimed at men, as women are just as guilty of being lazy about their southern maintenance!  Where there is the argument that having children will change your parts, there is also the follow up argument that doing the exercises as often and as quickly as possible can regain a huge proportion of any slackness caused by stretching.  I have had conversations with people who both have and haven’t had children and have found that tightness can be partly genetic, partly the way it’s been treated but overall pelvic floor exercises do nothing but good.  I naturally worked on mine from my teenage years because I didn’t think my vagina, as a whole, looked very attractive so wanted it to at least feel good to anyone experiencing it.  It is something that has stood me in good stead for my entire sexual life and to feel like I have a little bit of control of the sensations was an amazing feeling.  Why anyone would think it was even slightly enjoyable to have a wizard’s sleeve bemuses me.  Would you not think that if you were having very little sensation with anyone smaller than gargantuan that there must be some sort of issue with you?  I have also met those people!

Obviously, everything discussed is my experience and by no means includes everyone, but I would think the number of people that I have discussed or experienced such issues with should make quite a reasonable average of the general populous.  This is also excluding any individual connection that you would have with anyone in question and even average sex can be phenomenal if the connection is right.  I am discussing purely physical sensation and sex as an enjoyable physical experience.  Either way, nobody should be lazy about sex and that’s regardless of size, it’s just that size can help if you do actually want to do your best with it!