Saturday, February 02, 2008

Fleshbot and Shhh

This week’s Sex Blog Roundup at Fleshbot crunches numbers and squishes a few folks by throwing even more flesh into the fray.

Those of you who enjoy stalking me will find me ever open to new things.

Eden looks up at me mid-sex to ask if I’ve developed something of a foot fetish. I remove her toes from my mouth and sheepishly confess it to be so.

Jocasta stops by with rope, sex toys and a timid ass in need of reassurance.

Bridget . . . well, Bridget makes Muppets sing.

Erotic romance author Celia Kyle offers a review of this blog at A Cheeky Changeling, kindly saying that yours truly “writes damned well about the damned sex. Damnit.” Thanks for that, Celia, and beware of low-flying unicorns.

February has arrived and with it comes the official close of my birthday month offer to get off forty-five people. This final week pushed us well over the finish line with the help of the good members of the Bukkake Social Club. Eliza and William dreamed of putting on a live sex show for an audience of naked men. As it happens, I know many naked men, so I called together ten to watch and stroke as our exhibitionist couple “yummed” and “yes, babied” their way through a steamy turn in my overheated bedroom. Eliza, dear Eliza, took a terrible drenching at the dénouement.

There were some participants whose birthday month requests will be realized in coming weeks. Never fear, the fun continues—we’ll just go overtime and surpass projections, that’s all.

Now, it may seem odd to say this after acknowledging that I’ve seen to the sexual pleasure of over forty-five people this month, but I’ve been enjoying some solitude lately. My city refuses to come out from under gray overcast skies, and groundhogs report more to come, but for now, that’s no special bother to me. I’m content to wear black, drop the volume and muse, allowing space for winter’s melancholy to settle while reaching for the cigarettes I don’t smoke. As long as I’m not actually smoking, might as well make them Gauloises for effect. Filterless. In black and white.

Hang on one moment while I turn off the pop radio and put on some Leonard Cohen.

Brooding doesn’t come easily to me. However, solitude does, though in my life, I must make an effort to create it. Part of that comes in knowing how to make time to be alone and passing on offers of company, but more so, for me, in taking care about the company I seek when I am not alone, and in what I choose to do with others. Plenty of people require much from me as a lover, listener or actor in their personal dramas. Normally, this suits me—I would like to assert my abiding aversion to interpersonal drama, but it shows up enough for me to accept that I allow more than I believe I want. It’s as if my stomach constantly complains of lactose intolerance as my hands shovel in spoonfuls of ice cream. If drama truly made me sick, I’d be less indulgent of it. But I want to be someone who can sort through conflicts and make sense of them, to resolve them. And in order to do that, I must allow conflict to be presented.

Still, at times like these, I need to show the drama queens to the door. They can come back. I’m not changing the locks. But I do need to listen to my own voice for a time, and my own voice can be rather quiet by contrast to those around me.

This attitude plays out in curious allowances and changes. For example, I am more selective about what I will permit as concerns. My ears are willed to close on certain cues. Ask me now, and I can tell you that I know nothing at all about Tom Brady’s ankles, and I won’t check to be sure I correctly spell “Hukabee.” I know that these things won’t matter in a few days or weeks, and so I won’t be bothered by the shrill anxiety around them. Ephemera wash away. Likewise, I parse carefully on personal matters, asking more frequently, “Is this really a concern for me right now? And if so, do I really need to address it on anyone else’s timetable?” I recognize that taking on someone else’s priorities comes at the expense of time for my own, and for now, I’m a tad selfish of my resources.

7 comments:

Bridget said...

How can you be nonchalant about Tom Brady, when I'm marrying his brother?

Ok, so fine. Just my cousin says Connor looks like Tom Brady, but it still counts.

Here, let me have a special moment thinking about Connor *and* Tom Brady doing pretty obscene things with me that involve whipped cream, a football, some champagne and a lot of tackling....

Waitaminute... you weren't counting *me* as drama queen, were you? Were you? WERE YOU??!!?!? Answer me!!! ;)

Heh.

You're cute when you're in solitude. Do something useless, like count your hair(s) and twist it in your finger....or maybe put it up?

Man, that reminds me of when Lillie put your hair(s) in a shocking blue hairdoodle and then that lipstick. ....

Wha? Did I say something?

Oooh. Wear black eyeliner too. *That'll* show people your "I vant to be alone" face.

And I can't believe you outed my muppet love and not the hot boinkfest after it. ;)

Z said...

"But I want to be someone who can sort through conflicts and make sense of them, to resolve them. And in order to do that, I must allow conflict to be presented."

That's an interesting take on it (I liked the icecream analogy too). I like to kid myself I take no active part in surrounding myself with drama: you know, it just happens to be around me. I only manage to pull myself away from it when I find myself getting annoyed that I cannot heal problems more serious than the superficial, and when people are too stupid and wrong-headed to take my invaluable advice.

But you're right. Some people deserve and need to be supported, and some become too reliant on support. There is a difference between genuine drama, and attention-seeking, needy, habitual drama, and the last type is ultimately only draining and frustrating for the recipients.

Oops, I think you touched a nerve there...

Ace said...

Tom Brady is too pretty for me.

Mia said...

Isn't all of life drama? It's really just how you handle it and allow it either to control your life or be controlled by you. Every once in a while, however, it really just becomes a bitch that you gotta slap around until she leaves you alone long enough to let your drama-skin rethicken.

gingembre said...

I am even more drama-free than usual these days, with The Teenager having exited my life. Y'know, if you should want some company in that solitude. ;-)

Bianca said...

I too prefer to be drama free, therefore the next time I visit you I just want tacos and mfm threesomes.

badinfluencegirl said...

i think that winter is a natural time to rest and recharge and sort of figure out what you want again. summer is all outside and skin hanging out and not too deep in the thought process but winter?

winter and late fall are for brooding and finding the dark corners of your brain somehow where spring and summer are for finding the light and the joy.

of course winter is also for all day shagfests while you look out at the cold... :)