Tsk me not...

In the past few months, a number of people have offered me some very well-meant advice. Basically, they've all suggested I get out and get laid more, since I see BG so infrequently.
Now, the only actual result of all this advice was that I found myself irked to no end. I didn't think too much about the irritation, however, assuming it was simply the knee-jerk reaction we all have to being told what to do.

But then I read Aisha's post, "After the coffee..." the other day, in which I learned the expression, "slut-shaming", and hot on the heels of that came His rose's sex-positive affirmation. Both very good reads that stand on their own merits. What I appreciated most about them, however, was the way these pieces synthesized in my head and gave me the focus for deconstructing that irritation I had been feeling.

For those who may not know the term, "slut-shaming" can be loosely defined as the practice of tsk-tsking at women who have the gumption to reach out and express their sexuality. And I am every bit as indignant about that as Aisha is, because OF COURSE we all have the right to embrace our sexuality. No one deserves censure or scorn for pursuing a basic human pleasure.

But sexuality is a complex thing.
For some, it is easily compartmentalized into it's various components - sex as merely a physical itch, which is distinct from love, which is distinct from a deep mental connection...
For others, however, these components are inextricably intertwined. Personally, my sexuality is too deeply rooted in my mind for sheer physical gratification to assuage me. Emotion, I can take or leave -- but sex without the mind-fuck leaves me hollow and incomplete, as though I satisfied a part at the expense of the whole.

I find this such an uncomfortable feeling that I gave it up years ago. I prefer to find a person who satisfies ALL my needs, even if I can't see him as often as common wisdom says you should expect to. Even in those times between guys, I would far rather wait for the right person than subject myself to the hollowness of the wrong one.

Yet, by deprioritizing the physical act in favor of accommodating the full spectrum of my sexuality, I leave myself open to assessments of prudery and denial from those who can more easily compartmentalize.
I am tsk-tsked for doing what is right for me rather than following current dogma and, frankly, that irks me.

I think the best analogy to explain my ruffled feathers is that I feel like a stay-at-home mom in the 1970's heyday of Second Wave Feminism, back when proponents got so enthusiastic about possibilities that they forgot that what they were fighting for was the right to choose.

I am not scorning the road of purely physical sexual expression.
I am simply choosing the way I want to travel.
If that means I wend a less abandoned path through life, then so be it.
I am hardly censoring my sexuality. Rather, I see this as a holistic approach to cultivating my sexuality, a way that respects and embraces each and every part.
What's to tsk about that?

Hands

if I'm not restrained I will usually touch him
flatten my hands against his skin and just feel.
He never stops me but he doesn't always respond.

sometimes, however, he will place his hands on top of mine.
nothing more. there's no caress -
but he touches, presses, ... holds

connection made.
circuit complete.

In Case You Were Wondering...

Here's some of what I did on my little vacation from BlogLand:

  I applied (and was rejected) for the job of my dreams.
(This was the start of the decline...)

  I discovered that they make a Boston Creme Pie ice cream.
       OMFG!
(No, no correlation between those two points, why do you ask?)

  I priced out a little mini-vacation.

  I achieved a state of hysteria over the condition of my finances.

  I ate anything that wasn't nailed down.
(except the Boston Cream Pie ice cream, which was long gone.)

  I made a new budget.

  I took up yoga.
(perhaps you've heard the anguished screams of my hamstrings?)

  I went to a conference and fell in love with my career all over again.

  I plodded through the most relentlessly earnest book it has ever been my misfortune to read. (Book club obligation)

  I raked a ton of gravel out of my lawn and retrieved all the bits of sod scattered by the plows throughout the course of the winter.

  I iced my back.

  I culled 60 gallons worth of weeds, clippings and leaves from the two smallest of my four gardens.

  I iced my back some more.

  I braved the dark, scary, DUSTY corners of my shoe closet.
And, emboldened, went on to clean beneath my bed.

and, oh yeah, I also did this:

Except there was also a vibe laid atop my clit, a flogger whaling away at all exposed bits, and a deep voice warning, "Don't let that vibrator fall!"

I did contemplate ice afterward - but couldn't bring myself to do it...

Intimacy Revisited

This is not as johnny-come-lately as it may seem, because it's a post based on a response I sent to Pygar after he picked up and ran with my thoughts on intimacy. He requested that I consider publishing it when I was ready to return to BlogLand.

And that day has arrived, you lucky people!
(yes, my tongue was firmly in cheek -- as was yours, I hope.)

There were several points in Pygar's post on intimacy that really caught my attention. Most striking was his initial assumption (shared by a number bloggers who wrote follow-up posts on the topic,) that intimacy refers to something physical - more specifically, sexual.

This was fascinating to me, as that is actually one of the last definitions that crosses my mind. Sex certainly requires proximity but I would not necessarily apply the word intimate to it. In my mind, sex does not require intimacy, nor intimacy sex. Rather, intimacy comes from laying open one's soul, not one's thighs.

Yet, as Pygar mused, "Is that not how the word is most often used?"
It is. But, common usage or not, it seems to me that in this context, the word is merely a handy euphemism.

For me, intimacy is a truly profound connection with another person.
It is outside the body, a transcendent experience.
So much so, in fact, that I sometimes question whether the desire for intimacy hasn't actually been the objective in many a quest for "love" -- except we've misidentified the goal because intimacy is so nebulous a concept. But I digress...

Clearly, however, there are diverse expectations of intimacy.
Definitions vary, depending on whether, like Pygar, you wonder if you've ever actually experienced intimacy or, like me, are certain you have. And each definition is valid, according to your experience.

To some, it is the product of time and effort.
To others, it's a by-product of everyday life, the result of the thousands of tiny, mundane details that connect and bind.
Whereas I almost find it easier to describe by defining what it's not:

Intimacy is neither learned nor earned.
It's not something you work at. Nor is it something you can achieve anytime if only you try hard enough or stick it out long enough.
Rather, it simply is (or isn't.) It's there, or it's not.

I identify the potential for intimacy on a very instinctual level, so as a result, I'm usually aware of intimacy's existence (or lack) very early on in a relationship. Certainly, there is still a period of waiting, of discovery, a sort of unspoken negotiation that you go through. To extend the metaphor from my previous post, the person needs time to get from the door, down the hallway, behind the curtain and into the big, airy room, even if there are no obstacles to his progress. However, it generally takes very little time for me to know whether or not I'll be entertaining in the loft soon.

So, in my world view,
Intimacy has nothing to do with sex ...
Or with the length of time you've known a person ...
Nor do I believe it has anything to do with love.
Caring and affection, yes. But love is no more necessary to intimacy than sex or time.

Is it then central to any bdsm relationship, as Pygar believes?
Yes, I think it is. But which is the chicken and which the egg?
He asks, "What could be more intimate?" (than BDSM play)

Not much, I agree.
But while it's true that I cannot conceive of being in a BDSM relationship that wasn't intimate, I also cannot conceive of accepting a dom with whom I didn't already feel that sense of connection.
Play can deepen and enhance a feeling that already exists, but I don't believe it creates it.
At least not for me.

Exeunt

I've lost control of my pen.

Life here at Casa de Jz isn't particularly grand at the moment and whenever I try to write anything besides sheer fluff, I find myself dancing on the rim of anger or, worse, self-indulgence. Sometimes both.

Fluff gets old.
Anger and self-indulgence do not make for good reading.
And I never enjoy producing drivel.

So, I'm getting off the blogging highway for a while.
I'm hoping it's just a rest stop and I'll get back on soon.
But in case I don't make it...

I thank you all for keeping me company on the ride.
I learned a lot, had fun, and met some lovely people.

~Walk in Beauty~

Because It's March

Poor Hedone includes me on the TMI Tuesday question distribution list and every week, I say, "You know I don't do these..."
But, well ... It's Q&A month, and these aren't too impertinent.
So here we go! My first (and prolly last) TMI Tuesday.

1. When you looked at yourself in the mirror today, what was the first thing you thought?
     "nice hair"
     (I see no reason to exempt myself from my own sarcasm…)

2. If you could take a class for fun right now, what would you take?
     Either Latin or throwing pottery

3. What did the last text message you received on your mobile/cell phone say?
     "Five minutes"

4. What was the last song you listened to?
     "Zambra" - Willy & Lobo

5. What was the last song you sang or hummed (cuz it's stuck in your head)?
     "Grenade" - Bruno Mars

6. What color is your couch?
     tan, but the slipcover varies according to my whimsy

7. Have you had sex on your couch?
     On, beside, kneeling over, and hanging upside down off of…

Did I Know This?

That March is supposedly Question and Answer Month in our little blogosphere?

errr, ummmm, no.

But I just read it on two different blogs, so it MUST BE TRUE!

I'll play.
You're welcome to ask.
The very worst that will happen is that you'll get "42" for an answer...