I took a few weeks away from The Kitten Calendar to let some healing happen and get caught up on my mountain of school work. During that time, a lot of parts of my life have really been coming together—I was placed at the school of my choice for student teaching, I’m finishing up two years at a wonderfully productive job, and my first full-length collection of poetry just went on sale for preorder—there’s even a person WHO IS NOT ME in charge of promoting it—as a poet, I find this incredible. I’m in school this summer, but I also scheduled enough poetry teaching to keep myself inspired and entertained.
So my life is coming together, all except the dating/adventuring part. That part feels stuck and very lonely. There isn’t even the suggestion of a possible masculine person on the horizon, and I’m beginning to lose faith that I’ll be attracted to a non-Sweetie person again. I’m still (ack) sort of pining for Bill and I’m still seething at Fireguy and co. Those things are just not getting better fast enough. I still get scared, attacked feelings when I think of going out into the BDSM world—there’s nothing like that on the calendar. Maybe I should just put it on there and get on with my life.
One bright spot on the body front has been that I’ve gone to a couple of Tantric poetry workshops. I’ve gotten over the idea that the Tantra folks’ll think I have bad energy; at least I have made that kind of progress. The Sensual Poetry teacher combines movement with writing in a way that tries to let the body have a voice—I really appreciate that. She has us write letters from our body to our mind, from our mind to our body, and so on. Once, she assigned us to write a letter from our genitals to our brain, and my poem amounted to my vagina yelling at my head a bunch for taking all the penises away. Yep, my head does do that. My brain wrote a letter apologizing, but my body is still pissed. More than a decade was way to long to make it wait, and my body’s afraid that it’s settling in for another guy-free decade. Oh body, I really am supersorry.
I intellectually know that Bill was far from the best I can do, and even if he HAD been the best, he didn’t end up wanting me. I know that Fireguy’s shenanigans don’t necessarily exemplify all of BDSM. I know that if I went to a BDSM event, I would not be in danger. It would be more like a safe little bubble, with DMs there to help me if I called red. But right now, I’m facing a wall of fear about it. I’ll get back there some day, hopefully sooner than later.
Sometimes (not often, but lately) the frustration even keeps me from enjoying Sweetie. I get worried that if I settle in too much now, if I get too happy with her, before I know it another decade really will have gone by, and I will be even more of a bundle of repressed penis-craving nerves. I’m doing my best to fight all these fears, to pay attention to Sweetie and all of the other things in my life that are working, but jeez, dudes, where are you? Technically, I can probably wait forever, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea.
Tomorrow, I’ll be returning to my body adventures project by attending a cuddle party. I’d love to get past some of the barriers I’ve set up for myself and just play with trust and contact a little bit—I would love to spend at least a little time cuddling a guy, feeling that trust, smelling that guy-smell, it would be really nice. Cuddling seems a lot more intimate, more personal, than spanking, so we’ll see if I feel comfortable enough to try.
I guess what I realize after slogging though this litany of fears is that part of this is a project, yes, but some of it can’t be. The love part, much as I hate to let it go, has to be left up to fate. Fate’s who I’ve got to submit to, do you think I can do it?