Sometimes sex is just an excuse

Sometimes I see you and wish very hard that I could publicly hold your hand, kiss you on the cheek, just touch you when I feel like it. Simple, childish things. Except that I can’t because you either don’t want me to, you’re not that kind of person, or it would be inappropriate…

Sometimes sex is less about the orgasm and more about the feeling of skin touching skin. About the sitting and talking that goes on beforehand, pressing and turning over each other’s hands, feeling the shape and texture. You taking my feet and gently rubbing them. Laying naked in bed together. Being able to press my nose into your neck and take in your smell.

S was trying to describe the type of person I’m attracted to last night, and I said that one commonality between my lovers is that they all smell really good. (Though that’s probably just a bias.) Different, but good. Whether indescribably tart and fresh (the Actor), of earth and hemp and strangely-attractively-unwashed (K), of leather and clean laundry and comfort (Christopher) or deep sultry musk and sweat (the Emperor).

And after sex – the talking, the exploratory things that only get said after you’ve explored each other’s physical bodies.

Sometimes sex, penetration, arousal is just a byproduct of intimacy. Click to Tweet

I was out with Christopher and F again last night. It was a jazz-themed party with a live band and we needed to dress up to get in. Should have been a good night, but something was strangely off the entire time… I felt a little anxious, a little vulnerable. It was a combination of lots of people I didn’t know, plus (I didn’t realize it at the time) the continuous swarm of beautiful girls surrounding Christopher, much like lots of pretty, graceful moths to a flame (cliche, I know).

I really have to do something about this irrational possessiveness – possessiveness I have no right to feel in the first place. I think it would have been better if I was getting rampantly hit on as well, which I wasn’t…

The Scientist, who has been haphazardly trying to get into my pants since I came back, was there but chatting up this pretty blond girl instead, and Roommate was there too but was being crass and annoying.

When we eventually moved to Zeta Mu, the president, who I strangely have a crush on, was there and kept glancing at me, which was slightly gratifying.

I almost miss all the ego-stroking I got in the Caribbean, where I’m #1 considered very attractive and #2 the guys are forward enough to approach you very directly. The guys here aren’t comfortable with doing that, I think, unless they’re drunk and at a frat dance party.

Of course, if I actually knew how to flirt with people I wouldn’t have this problem in the first place.

I came back home and masturbated before I went to sleep – but coming felt oddly empty, oddly pointless, oddly mechanical. As if I were an automata made flesh.

I woke up this morning lonely, depressed and discouraged by the large amount of work I knew was waiting for me. Luckily F instantly dispelled that by shiftily opening my door, and then climbing into my bed when she realized I was awake. We cuddled; bitched about romance and life.

F: I’m tempted to go out and bring a random guy home, but it would be really awkward, and I wouldn’t be able to spoon with him afterwards because we wouldn’t know each other

Wilhelmina: Yeah, it’s basically just [miming whacking a guy off, miming thrusting, shrug]. There’s no point to it really.

Since F is newly-single, we’ve both been considering people, exchanging notes, playfully discussing sandwiching someone together, cruising for people online. Well, rather she’s been cruising for people on OkCupid and craigslist and I’ve been getting cruised on fetlife. I’ve actually met a couple people there who I find very interesting, we’ve exchanged quite a few emails, but they live several hours away from me. Curse my town for being so tiny and isolated…

I do have a number of people here who I have crushes on, but my “list” is getting shorter and shorter as I weed people out due to lack of chemistry, unavailability, etc, and it’s not getting any longer.

The upside is that the Emperor and his gf (I think?) are visiting in a few days (!), which I’ve announced incessantly to any of my friends who will listen. Me and the Emperor have been emailing regularly again, exchanging news and fears and him cockily teasing me now and again. I’m really happy and excited that they’re coming :)

I feel as if I should… do something with my single status. Right now I’m at peace with it, but I’m not taking advantage of it, of my freedom, to do anything. I should be socializing more, meeting more people, having fun and being playful and flirtatious. Instead I’m defaulting to burying myself in my work, only hanging out with my close friends, and being grumpy.

Right now I’m stuck. I’m stuck in remnants of feelings and connections, I’m stuck in memories of past loves. And I need to move past that.

I have to start pushing my boundaries a bit more.

I’ve been a little dissatisfied with the quality of my and Christopher’s friendship lately… sex aside, I felt like we were more connected when I was in the Caribbean and he was here but we talked on Gtalk fairly frequently. It probably has a lot to do with the fact that he’s busier this term, and he lives off-campus now so isn’t around very much. So we’re not seeing as much of each other as I would like.

My instinctive reaction to this kind of thing is to be insecure, to test him, to want him to actually make an effort to see me, which is silly. I could easily just ask him to hang out but I don’t – I don’t want to look vulnerable or like I’m hounding him too much. Which is also silly.

After idling in bed and talking for a while, F came out with me to pick up some food I had ordered in town. We randomly dressed up in punk/lacy gear, walked along holding hands and talking loudly about inappropriate things and she sang snatches of songs from “Cabaret.”

I’m so glad F is around. Without F honestly sometimes I think I’d go completely nuts.

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