Before I wade back into the feelings, I’m writing
myself a permission slip to put dating life aside until after New Year’s. (Aside
from The Lovely Guy, who’s easy to trust and be myself around!) There are plenty
of year-end crafts and projects to lean into, and I’m especially excited because
I’ve decided that I don’t have to spend time with my unvaccinated brother! Having
excused myself from traveling to family, I’m excited to spend the month in my
own life, making room for whatever quietly arrives. I may even get to see a
gemstone exhibit with The Boy Who Sewed Me a Pillow, if I’m superlucky!
Anyway, back to the processing at hand. A (mostly in
my own head, but still) horny week has given me a little perspective, but I
still find it hard to imagine connecting
with anyone as much as I did with This Charming Man. I understand, on some
level, that This Charming Man was maybe just really good at sex. But so were
Steampunk Guy, Mr. Shiny Eyes, so IS The Lovely Guy. I remember that
glimmer-of-love moment when I came with Mr. Sweetheart as Mr. Shiny Eyes held and
kissed me. I remember the Mayor of Kittentown’s endlessly welcoming dick.
But this was the first time, with a man, that I felt
truly present, safe, and adored. Truly intertwined with him, body and spirit.
That feeling could have been solely provided by my ridiculous love-drunk
imagination, but I don’t think it was. Not solely.
When I set out on this quest ten years ago (!), this
was the thing I was looking for. Not just to be able to step over my decades of
barriers and fuck men, but to learn how to fully and unselfconsciously let them
in. It was the missing piece I’ve deprived myself of for so long. The longing
crashed and burned so many relationships, probably a little bit this one too.
I told him, the last naked night, that no one had ever
fucked me so right before. I don’t think that’s grammatically correct, but he
said “thank you.” and sighed the most satisfied sigh. I loved the way he held
my head up by my hair because he liked to watch me cry out for a while before
he let me bury my head in the pillows. (Let us now praise doggie style, now and
forever my favorite possible thing.) He would hold me so sweetly and gently
after we (“good girl”) came, but his dick stayed hard and I liked just laying
there, petting it. Making friends.)
(The time he slept over, in the morning as he was
getting dressed, he let his dick stick up through top of his boxers, pointing
upwards out the top of his jeans. Such a fucking treasure of an image, that
alone makes all these paragraphs worthwhile.)
I don’t really know how to put these pieces together
to help me understand how I ended up feeling so deeply, but I guess love doesn’t
need an explanation. A few months ago, before I met him, when dating life
started to be so exciting and unbalancing again, I told my then-therapist that
my goal was to “let the moment live.”
And I did! I put the paragraphs aside for a little
while, didn’t ask what the meaning or status was, just let us be. I just let
him please me. I let myself have him. I
let down my guard and let us love, and even if he wouldn’t have phrased it that
way, I think it was something real and true.
In the context of the five-millionth breakoff of this
blog’s life, it’s hard to frame my time with This Charming Man as progress, as
a major heart-victory, but it was and is. I wholeheartedly let a man in. I let
us adore each other so fully until our time was done. As the heartbreak lifts,
little by little, I can feel the truth of him return to my body and soul as the
gift that he was. As a strength. As another facet of the love that I am made
of.
I don’t want to face the world of men with the hurt
and defensiveness I’m feeling now. Yes, I probably should screen better,
but I also want to leave room to be open, to push myself, to be surprised. I
hope that openness will blossom out of me before too long, but for now there’s
the grief that honors this big important thing. For now there are Christmas crafts,
and friend-plans, and gentle hope. Putting the swiping aside for a bit, I feel
sad and free.
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