Birthright – Contribution – Reward
It has been 39 days since I kissed a girl at the top of an effigy in the shape of a goddess before She was set ablaze. It has been 38 days since she kissed me goodbye. Before that, it had been 63 days since I kissed her under a mesmerizing light installation. I will never tire of the softness of women’s kisses.
Here’s how I’m feeling about my sexuality: My risky behavior caught up to me awhile back. I learned some extremely valuable lessons. Now, though, I am left in fear. I fear that it will happen again. That next time the consequences will be worse. In late summer 2016, I essentially turned out the lights and shuttered the doors. Because of what happened, I’ve peeked in the window of erotic possibility only a couple of times. This is still my truth: no one is touching me on a regular basis.
On one hand, that’s actually totally fine right now. I am not conscious of any feelings of loneliness. Things are so stable and steady right now that I am hesitant to change the equation. What a difference from the moments when the loneliness caused perceptible physical pain. You know what I’m talking about. The pressure in the center of your chest, the weights on the underside of your belly. Loneliness even takes up residence in your throat, the constant feeling of being two breaths away from tears. Every cell of your body calling out to ask, “Is anybody out there?” as those words echo into the silence that follows.
What I feel now is nothing like that. There is ease in my solitude, yet it does not trap me. I can spend time with others, and then easily transition to being alone again. In my deep loneliness, I might have avoided social activities because loneliness and touch deprivation hurt so much more when you return to that empty heart and home.
This is the most “okay” I have been in years. Maybe ever.
On the other hand, sex and erotic engagement is part of my identity. Who am I, if I have turned off the lights and shuttered the doors on that area of my mind-body? I have wondered if sex is just over for me on this earthwalk. I have thought, “Well, that was fun while it lasted. What’s next?” Of course, this is not true. My self-talk has a flare for drama. It is not yet time to put away my passion. There is pleasure left in me.
Let’s get back to that girl, shall we? She has a remarkable twinkle in her eyes, and a kind of stubborn joyfulness that refuses to be defeated. Being just the opposite myself, a very stubborn grouch, wary and skeptical of cheer, I have been impressed by how deftly she charms me out of whatever complaints I’ve conjured up. An absolute darling. Someday I hope I’ll get the chance to give her more than just a kiss. If the kiss is any indication, we will surely treat one another to something special.
Do you see what I mean? It’s like my third eye is talking to my root again, after a period of not speaking to each other. I am unfolding the shutters and unlocking the door. Maybe I am practicing what it is like to pour erotic power into my reserves while waiting for desire [or they who desire] to rise up and meet me.
In fact, there are others I can’t tell you about quite yet. They are each only an idea just barely being formed. They are each an undiscovered country. They are each a separate list of questions in my head. And all of them start with, “Would you like it if I…..?” or “Let’s try……?” or “Have you ever……?” The spark of divinity within all of these figures is calling to me in an old familiar way.
Desire is my birthright, my contribution to the world, and my reward.
I graduated therapy a couple of weeks ago. For real this time. I am 100% sure of it now.
Miss Avarice Speaks Her Mind 