The Unsexy Sex Post

So - weakened by a spectacularly crappy week/month/year/life - I went out with Mr. S last night. I wish he did not have such a strong effect on me. I wish I could resist his charms. He does not ooze Smooth Player, but Genuine Goodness. It is refreshing and healing and I am completely defenseless against it.

After a good steak dinner (am I the only one who finds red meat an aphrodisiac?), and some even better pseudo-platonic cuddling, we had ourselves a nice little romp in bed. It's funny how the female body works (or doesn't). Sometimes the times when I really, really want sex are when it's most difficult to orgasm. And then there's times like last night, when I was in a dreadful mood and full of stress, and it was easier than it's been in a long time.

I feel an odd mix of sadness and gratitude that Mr. S is the first man who's bothered to learn what pleases me. Not just the kink, but the wheres and hows that make general contact pleasant.

The Cryptic Snark

Real Life Shittiness leaves me wondering how I came to be some kind of Nexus of Evil for the world.

I seem to be dealing with more Truly Evil people right now than most others find in a lifetime. And I'm not talking "gee, he's an ass" kind of badness. I mean a brand of evil that makes this bitch look like a saint.

I think maybe Hell isn't meant to be a punishment but a comfort to the rest of us that yes, bad people do eventually get their comeuppance.

The Vacuum Returns

I am glad for this vacation I've had. Getting out of the Midwest always clears my mind, and it was glorious to be out where I couldn't see a trace of human presense anywhere. Not a road, not a telephone pole or cell tower, not even a jet trail in the sky. But then coming back to my responsibilities was as crushing as Atlas picking up the globe again.

And odd as it is I am glad, too, that I spent a week without talking to Mr. S. As I've said before, he is a dear friend. I do truly enjoy his company. But he and his wife are walking the BDSM path to a degree that I cannot fathom or follow, and for my own selfish reasons I am hurt at their choice to pursue that path.

In part I am merely baffled. Why would you take up a hobby that you can't talk about with most people? It seems as pretentious to me as running around announcing that you're in the CIA -- if you really were CIA, that is the last thing you would tell people. Moreover, what is the constructiveness of such a clandestine hobby? How do you account for your time?

Junior: Dad, what did you and Mom do for fun before I was born?
Mr. S: Well, son, I liked to whip her with a riding crop and tell her what a naughty pony she was, and when I got bored with that I'd set her on fire or electricute her.
Junior: [mental breakdown]

Even if (obviously? hopefully?) no such conversation is in the offing, it just seems awfully duplicitous even to yourself to build your life around something hidden.

For my own hurts, I know it is unreasonable, but there is a jealousy, a forlorn-ness, for which there so no salve. While Mr. S is gabbling on about whatever kink he's just engaged in, I wonder to myself, If I can't do [sex act] , why would anyone bother with me? Why should I even bother *trying* to waste someone's time with a relationship, when I know full well ahead of time that what little I offer won't be enough?

They say the zodiac Leo loves competition. While I am the stereotypical Leo in all other ways, I abhor competition. I am drawn to it, but I hate it and avoid it whenever possible - mostly because it has always been a losing proposition for me. BDSM, vanilla sex, and relationships all feel like competition I can't win.

If only the grocery store stocked spare men between the tampons and the condoms.

Freeeeeeeeeeeeddddoooooommmmm!

Um, yeah. I highly doubt this is what William Wallace was referring to, but . . .

The Spinster is going on vacation! No computer, and therefore no posts for a week or so.

Flakes and Aches

So, Mr. Marine is on my ignore list.

I was this --> <-- close to changing my flight to go see him when he announced that oh-btw he will be out of town the only days I could be in town. I don't know what his deal is, or what he gets out of this now-we're-friends, now-we're-not game he plays. But I'm done. I wash my hands of his asshattery.

About the time I wrote my last post, I was talking with Mr. S about the situation. He advised me not to go out there due to previous asshattery. But then he comes out with this gem: "I'm advising against it because I think it's a bad idea. Don't think that I'm jealous or anything, you can shag whoever you want. I don't care about that."

Ouch.

I certainly wasn't expecting this married man to be suddenly overcome with fits of possessiveness, but in my book light jealousy is an expression of caring. For him to say what he said was disappointing on so many levels. Even in the most casual relationship, I think it's inevitable that you care who your partner is with . . . ultimately it's like you'll be with them too. For him to say it didn't matter to him . . . it's like I am less than casual to him. Ow.

And all the more Ow because what we have isn't exactly casual. I think he treats it more lightly than it is for my "benefit" but I know for sure that Mrs. S is viewing our thing as true polyamory and not just hooking up. So what's with the not caring?

The healthiest thing for me would be to find my own local relationship. But I haven't the foggiest idea how to go about making that happen. I wouldn't even know where to find eligible men in my area, let alone how to attract one of them. *sigh*

Back From The Dead

I got an IM from Mr. Marine before the weekend. It wasn't quite the only one that I've had from him since my last post about him; relative to his previous zero effort he's made a great improvement in communicating regularly, even if it is no more than once every week or two.

In this IM of his, he brought up the notion of my coming to visit him. It just so happens that I am flying out west to see another friend in a few weeks -- I am seriously considering rearranging my travel plans to see him. In his favor is the fact I have yet another friend geographically between him and the first friend that I would like to see and had been feeling somewhat guilty about not including in this trip.

Since he has a record of being flaketastic, I told him if he still wanted after the weekend for me to visit, I would see about making it happen. Well, today I heard from him and he still wants it. I think I will go ahead and see him, but not because I'm desperate to see him. It is a fine excuse to extend my vacation away from the Midwest :)

The Road To Hell . . .

. . . is paved with good intentions.

I'm sorry I haven't posted lately. I haven't had much time for introspection because work has been crazy. I am trying to finish two huge projects before I take my yearly vacation next month. Gaaaah!

Today I was talking with one of the gentlemen I work with, a flamboyantly gay man in his late 50s with a heart of gold. Apparently there is some concern in our little work community over the fact that I don't date. My initial reaction, as yours should be, is that my relationship status is nobody's business. However, these people do genuinely care about my well-being. So Mr. Gay thought he would help my plight by trying to set me up with -- get this -- his handyman.

While I have nothing but the utmost respect for those who do manual labor, I really don't think there is much basis for me to choose one as a life partner. The philosopher-carpenter is a Hollywood creation; in reality the vast majority of these men do not have a life of the mind.

Thus my response to this overture was politely tepid. I hate with a passion the concept (and reality) of dating. It is by its very nature a job interview. What can I bring to the company, what can I offer the relationship. I don't bring anything. I am not interviewing with your company because I care about your bottom line, I am here because I need a job. I am not dating because I care about fulfilling your fantasies or being your dream girl, I am here for the cuddles and the sex and the occasional good conversation.

On one hand, I wish men were not so selfish in their wishlists. (You know, the whole 20 yr old supermodel there to fulfill every fantasy with no expectation of reciprocation thing). On the other hand, I wonder what I do offer, were I ever to be in a room with a man who happens to be the unicorn of both single and under 50. I happen to think I look alright, but the very obvious lack of male attention proves that unfounded. Despite my pretensions of an intellectual mind, there are gaping holes in my knowledge. My conversation does not contain witty repartee or entertaining anecdotes. My hobby-ish interests are diverse, arcane, and solitary. I wonder then, where a man might make a connection.

And yet, I like me just as I am. Why must life give me the option of being who I am or being what a man wants?