I told my older brother tonight, who I suspect was high on crystal meth at the time. We were having pizza before our weekly Alcoholics Anonymous meeting and I just went for it. I tell my brother mostly everything anyways. He has always been one of my favorite people on the planet. He laughs at all my jokes. That’s a big plus with me. He was a little too excited, I fear, when I told him the details. He thinks it might be the best thing since sliced bread. I must admit, though, I find his enthusiasm infectious. Such tolerance. Refreshing.
If God is everything, then God is This.
A guy I had crazy fucked up shameful sex with right before I met my husband was the speaker at the meeting tonight. He looks like a homeless surfer. Not very attractive to me. Hairy fucking hipsters.
I call him the Choker and the Spitter. The thing with him was he sprung his freak flag on me without prior notice and discussion. There was no safe-word I know of established beforehand. It was such a mind-fuck for me. I found it difficult to look at him. The shame was bubbling up again.
Before the meeting started I discreetly leaned over and told my brother who the speaker was and what he had done to me. My brother confided in response how his last girlfriend had been into that. The whole choking, spitting, and slapping thing. I was shocked. She willingly WANTED that kind of shit? She begged him for it. BEGGED him. Shocked. And reminded, once again, that I am not the arbiter of anyone’s sexual conduct.
“Nothing is bad or good but thinking makes it so”
Thank you Shakespeare- for that little nugget!
I have no idea what kind of sex other people should or should not be having, hell, I don’t even know what kind of sex I should be having or even want to be having.
All I know is how much I LOVED making my daughter. That was some serious LOVE-MAKING. I desperately want that with my husband again but I fear I may never feel that kind of connection and intimacy again. The thought chills me to the bone.
I told my best sober friend before leaving the meeting. She was horrified. Intolerance. Certainly wouldn’t work for her. She asked me what kind of relationship did I want? Me. Not him. Did I really want this or was I doing it for him? Good question. Especially since he says the whole polyamory thing was my idea. I didn’t have an answer for her. She told me my husband lied to me when he said his vows. But I thought about it, and nowhere in the vows does it say that we are only going to have sex with one another till death do us part. And as far as I know at this moment, we have no intention of splitting up. We are still Death Do Us Part.
I must stay present with this. I have no other choice. The future is too unknown and the past is too painful. All I have is NOW.
I laughed out loud in my car on the way home saying to myself:
“THIS is my life. This is my life. This is my life. OF COURSE, this is my life. This is it. There is no other reality than the one in front of me and I can fight against it all I want but this is the truth of my existence. It is super fucking untraditional and wild but fuck me if it doesn’t make for a good story.”
And thank you, God, for giving me the ability to tell it.