Oh this random lil’ thing called love.
Being attracted to CIS men can be so embarrassing.
There I was, in this beautiful apartment in London, Ontario and I mean loft of my dreams kinda flex. Two large walls of exposed brick with muted rust and different shades of tan, the open concept kitchen space has solid maple countertops framing the shelving and bar beautifully in the lengthy space. Claw-footed tub for her pleasure, bed ‘murphied’ for his, with access to a mounted 50inch on the opposing wall. Everything is curated to a modern minimalist feel and very apropos to the name ‘Zeigel Haus’
So I got this airBnB for the purpose of having incredible, fufilling sex, with my wonderful mad scientist, my favorite nerd in shining armour. As well as do some nice adult coupley stuff for his birthday as an attempt to save the ‘family’ dynamic we once shared. You see I currently live in the living room of my family home with my mother in Chatham, Ontario. So clearly I have no private life to speak of, nor can I get any orgasms on a regular basis... which if you really think about it, was also a sign that maybe sex isn’t the best idea.
But golly, I just wanted him so badly! As well as give us some more pleasant memories considering our patchwork past.
Alas dear reader I failed, he flew off with the mental train of paranoia, so I responded with all the love I could muster and told him to leave. 凸(￣ヘ￣)
Clearly I tried too hard.
Love just is, there is no reason for it, there’s no way to expect it for dinner. It shows its rounded face of possibility, and expands depending on the two parties involved. If one is not well or not taking care of their own personal ‘To Do’ list, it all gets real fucky. An ordinary question becomes a barrage of shrapnel left over from your BFG of love, avoidance becomes a natural response to confrontation. In reality confrontation is a necessity, that’s how we find understanding. It is exactly what needs to happen in order for there to be some kind of evolution together.
Yet it is too much for some, especially those who don’t like themselves very much. This is not a judgement call, I am challenged with my own version of self love... yet I still practice it everyday because that is what I need. Also tho, who am I to tell anyone, including those I love, what their self care looks like, or the timeline in which that skill is aquired. I am all too familiar with my own slow climb to another emotional plateau, and that weekend was proof of that. (*´ー`)
I just felt so spent, the expectation that comes with ‘love’ is so mystifying. I wish so profoundly to not react to this disappointment in the way that further impeades my growth towards my person. Although I am alone, I do not have the same sense of loss I once felt, when love didn’t work out the way I hoped. Although the depth in which that sadness resided was illuminating, I was not sad for me... I was sad for us. A thing that did not exist tangibly, but a baby birthed out of common interests, vibe checks and hormones. Why does this happen? Is it connected to chemistry, spirit or god somehow? Or just the neurological missfires when a foreign yet complimentary combination of cortisones collide.
A beautiful experiment when it works really, the colours and reactions can be glorious to behold. I am not afraid to admit that I am envious of those who have found their person when they were ready... Because timing is everything. Some would say, see you next lifetime and I call bullshit, because who the fuck knows if our souls plasma code gets recycled to new skin bags. If they did, how would you even remember what transpired, and how to mend the tear that occurred. Or is forgetting the lifetime important in order to move on from perceived pains and ego tripping? Some religions suggest that it requires that lifetime to learn a specific lesson, each life being a new lesson, but what a lengthy gambit the universe has created in that reality.
((( (◎ロ◎;) )))
Whatever this invested madness is... I’m sure it has an end point. Some kind of Ah-Ha moment that spans all space and time and heals all versions of the souls journey once again bringing true peace. Well, I mean as far as the science goes... I have no idea what our human problem is.
This man has shown me over and over again, that he cannot handle the emotional tapestry that life can be... or how to navigate the terrain accordingly, or at least when it comes to doing it with me. Yet I keep trying after moments of true connectivity, when our energetic MHZ is reflecting one another in a haze of warm hues, as I memorize the angles of his jaw when he smiles and I forgot about our foundation of non commitment. I forgot our many days fighting over small inconsequential things, missing one another with understanding and replacing it with judgment. I had learned that weekend, that although I may understand a lot about self perpetuated sabotage (because I am aware of my own) I cannot help someone who sees nothing wrong with theirs. (っ˘̩╭╮˘̩)っ
Having sexual/personal relations as an empath can get dicey, because we feel your shit and if you aren’t willing to talk about it, it can be a righteous pain. I am aware that it’s not my place to tell you what to do, and try to only give advice when asked... but if I have no reference to what I’m feeling off of you, then I just don’t want to be around it. Sorry about your luck beautifully broken man, you will not benefit from the light, if you cannot walk towards the sun.
That is the true upset of that whole debacle, we just let our bullshit rob us of a lovely weekend, we gave into the ego’s lie. Why can’t we find that sweet spot of vulnerability where understanding is curated. Or is that reality not ours this time around... fuck what a cop out.
This is why we also need to stop slut shaming, it’s kinda important in certain rites of passage. If one is not ready for a connected relationship, then ‘fuck the pain away’ as quoted by one of my favourite artists, is necessary. Just being honest about not having the emotional wear with all to connect to another human is evolved. Consider how many hearts would have healed, how many bad decisions could have been avoided and how much awesome uninhabited sex would have commenced, if we all just stoped trying to own something or someone. （￢з￢）
And that my compadres is where love goes to die, in the sea of ego. Desire and disappointment fight for dominance as one slowly ebbs away, the other gains strength.
Loves recipe is not hard to recreate, it’s only that the ingredients involved are delicate to combinations and measurements. One person cannot hold all the things, this recipe is meant to have two cooks, with both invested in making something delicious for both to enjoy. If one only wants their recipe followed, the other cook gets lost in the bake. The point is to have fun experimenting with the spices before focusing on a palette, before reserving yourself to a staple meal that only you can appreciate.
Isn’t that what masturbation is for?
