R

     With a little chemistry; a word, a movement, even silence can be stimulating. The first time I went out with R, I was thrown off, not by a lack of chemistry, but by the fact that our conversation actually overpowered it.  We were real people communicating in a real world about real things, and sex which is usually my focus, was merely a side-note.
     Because of this, having sex on our first night together felt similar to eating too much of a really good food. But, I had never before felt satisfied on a first date with conversation alone, and the rhythm of pursuit was so ingrained in me that it sort of just happened.  The confusion I felt when I left the next morning turned into a general feeling of remorse in the days after. I wanted to talk to him about it, to regain the feeling I had before the sex, but I was afraid. When I did finally call him the ease of our conversation, of our ability to communicate left me feeling giddy. For the first time in my life I had a relationship built upon real, open-communication.
    R had a self-comfort that was contagious, I felt comfortable when I was with him, at ease, I didn't have to explain myself, or defend my sanity, and most importantly, he didn't see difference as weakness like men often do.  Mine and R's relationship lasted for several months.  Though we were both unwilling to commit to a status, we were content. Eventually though his complacency inspired me to rebel, or at least try.
    In the same amount of time I spent in the relationship I spent out of it, trying to invoke a reaction. I slept with other people, ignored his calls, but the jealousy never came. Then one day, after months of being in a non-relationship, he met someone. After all the time I had spent trying to make him jealous, he succeeded, without even trying, to make me jealous in one day. All those times that he had said, "I don't want to date" he had really been saying, "I don't want to date you".

Sexual History Part 3 Section 2

     After J and the lessons he taught me, I began to approach my relationships with men more honestly.  During each new encounter I would make time to state my position: "I can't commit. I value my freedom. I like to sleep around. I think we could have fun together but I just don't want you to expect more from me than I am willing to give." Most of the time the men would understand.  Within one month, I slept with K on my porch, L on his (dirty) bedroom floor, M in my bed after the beach, N in his swanky black and white bedroom.  I slept with my friend's little brother O with his music and incense and candles and then I met P.  

    P was a mathematician.  He wore second-hand slacks, button-down plaids, grandpa-cardigans, and sneakers.  He woke up to NPR and had the paper delivered to his door. 
  I met P at my favorite bar.  He was sitting in the nook where the bar wraps around and meets the stage, which to many is considered the best seat.  I had just come back into the bar with a bag of skittles.   I offered some to the doorman, which he gladly accepted and then I walked over to P's nook and offered some to him.  Of course, he didn't like skittles but he did ask me to sit down. We talked for hours and then went back to his place.  When we got inside his apartment he carried me through the dark and into his bedroom.  The next morning he told me that he had never slept with someone on the first night.  I felt really sexy around him.  Like I was the young, wild, adventurous girl that he would ask over to play.  P was the first man in a long time I could imagine a future with. 

    I told him that I liked him in an email. He responded with an invitation to dinner.  When I got to his house there was a note on the door saying, "come in".  He was in the kitchen.  The table was set with a tablecloth and place-mats, bright orange soup in bowls, with fresh bread in the oven.  He told me that he didn't want to be anything more serious than we already were. That he wanted to date and have fun with women in the way that we had done. 

           I sat on his bed and pouted.  I imagined my earlier relationships, when pouting would get me what I wanted.  I was sad for about a day and then I moved on to someone new. After about two weeks of not hearing from me, I received an email from P saying that he was thinking of me.  For the sake of my reputation and ego, I was very happy to tell him that I had met someone else.

Sexual History Part 3 Section 1: Do unto others as..

      Around the time my and G's relationship ended, I went away to art-camp.  For two weeks my day consisted of fresh coffee in the morning, painting class in the afternoon, beer in the evening time, and the pursuit of sex at night. First I met H.  He was a welder.  He had a dark tan and wore black overalls.  I came onto him at the bar one night. Enough so, that I feel pretty certain that he felt pretty certain that I would go home with him if he asked. And I did.  But to be perfectly honest H was a fix, a stand-in for another man that I desired.
    You see, before camp I received a call from F.  "Look-out for someone named J.  He works at the camp and he will try to sleep with you." And so I did.  I looked-out for him and I found him.  He was a self-declared sex-addict in a long-term relationship (to which he was not loyal) and he was into girls like me.  One night after dinner a group of us went to a pool-bar.  I played pool poorly but succeeded in gaining J's attention.
     Back at camp, I sat down at the commons table to read. With my intention's out there it was his turn to move.  And so I did what any horny and determined woman would do, channel positive sexual energy and wait.  I wanted to give him enough time to change and change his mind again.  And he did ultimately give in to my determination.  He approached the table, looked deep into my eyes, and invited me back to his cabin.
    The sex was just as I had imagined it would be. It was so a part of us, like a drug. There was so much wrapped-up in it but what we really wanted was physical. I had the most intense orgasm. Afterwards, he gave me a t-shirt to wear then we fell asleep making plans to do it again.  The next morning I woke up early to beat the campers. Wearing his t-shirt as a prize I ran barefoot back to my room to get ready for the day.
    As you might expect, I fell for J.  But I soon realized that to him I was just another woman at camp.  My charm, my sex, was not enough for him and he quickly found someone new.  The remainder of my time at camp was focused on regaining J's attention. On the last night of camp, after the weekly dance party had ended, I walked over to the bonfire where J and his woman were sitting, and did the one thing I could think of (in my drunken state) to get his attention. I stripped naked. Of course, as would any respectful man, J stood up, took the girls hand and walked back towards camp, leaving me to face the bonfire (and all the people sitting around it) alone. I fell to the ground and sobbed.
   
 

Sexual History Part 2

         In August of 2009 we moved to Chicago so I could attend art school.   D got a job working at the cheese counter of a local grocery store and our son went to a small catholic preschool. In school I felt so alive. I wanted to meet people: To be a part of things, to fit in and to stand out. About a month into school I stopped wearing my wedding ring and took up smoking. The art kids would stand outside between classes smoking and flirting. I met F this way. He was handsome and smart and well respected in school. About two weeks after meeting we started sleeping together. D was feeling suspicious and consequently read my text-messages. He approached me one night while I was brushing my teeth. He was crying, and both ashamed of invading my privacy and saddened by what he had found within it. I moved out a month later.

           With the help of F, I painted my bedroom pink.  I rationalized it as a feminist choice: My first room over which I had full control and my first bed in which I might sleep without guilt. On Halloween I cheated on F.  I was remorseful when I told him. He was hurt and angry but my remorse was believable enough for him to forgive me. Towards the end of F and my relationship, I started to fantasize about other men. I was honest with him about my feelings but it affected our sex-life tremendously. In May, I broke up with him and within a week I met G. G was the ex-boyfriend of a friend of mine.  I asked her for permission, which she gave and then receded weeks later. Her recession came in the form of friend banishment. Consequently my relationship with G became too controversial to continue. In the weeks before it ended though, G and I had a foursome with another couple. It was my first time sleeping with a woman. It was around this time that I had a few realizations

                          
 1. Sex is powerful.
 2. Strength is sexy.
 3. Independence tends to be misunderstood.
 4. Promiscuity is threatening to those who do not believe 
    or partake in it.

                       

Sexual History Part 1

             I lost my virginity at 19. He (we'll call him A) came inside me. The next day I had to borrow 35.00 to get the morning after pill.  Within a months time I slept with B (which was painful), C (which didn't work very well) and D (with whom I fell (momentarily) in love). One day D and I had sex without a condom.  The sex was thick with the tension of our lingering break-up. He didn't pull out and I did not get a morning after pill. I found out I was pregnant on my 20th birthday.  D's sister brought a baby gift to my birthday dinner and D asked me to marry him. When I told him I wasn't sure whether I wanted to have the baby he threatened to never speak to me.
             On August 13th we were married. Months later our son was born. I quit working for my dad's health care business and became a stay-at-home mom. I spent my days both romanticizing my simple life and dreaming of being saved from it. As our son grew older I became stronger and more independent. I developed a serious flirtation with a friend (E we'll call him) from high-school. On my 21st birthday I bought a red spandex dress from American apparel. D said he didn't want me to wear it because it drew too much attention. What is wrong with wanting attention?
             At 22, I took a weekend trip to Chicago. I made-out with E on his bedroom floor.  A couple weeks later E and I were caught making-out, naked on a school playground. The police let us off easy because there were no condoms (evidence of public sex) but we had to appear in court where my father-in-law was a well respected lawyer. While I knew how embarrassing my behavior was for my husband the liberation I felt for having done something so irresponsible trumped any guilt I might have had.

Will's and Will-Not's

1. I will approach this writing honestly and with tact.

2. I will not make prescriptions or recommendations. 

3. I will not say that the way I live is the right or better way.

4. I will claim no great wisdom regarding sex, love, or dating.

5. I will allow contradictions and mistakes to happen.

6. I will speak as a woman but not for women.

7. I will leave room for growth and change.

8. I will not disclose the identity of others involved.

9. I will try to write a minimum of one hour each day.