pantoum's Diaryland Diary ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- SEX AND SELF DEFENSE Man, I feel SO violated! I mean why not just fuck me up the ass with a John Holmes dildo or something? And the fact that Philly is a therapist—albeit a dysfunctional one—just makes matters worse. I already cringe when I tell people about my childhood because I know how fucked-up it was and know that people hear my stories and make value judgments about me, or react too strongly without considering that I have had a whole lifetime and lots of therapy to process this shit and so am not as fragile as they suddenly believe that I am. And every friggin' time the newscasters describe one of those high-school shooters or talk about some troubled teenager who commits some awful crime and then cites his troubled youth, I think Great, now everyone seeing this or reading the article is thinking that everyone who had a troubled youth is a psychopath. It is 10:30 p.m. I left work at 8:30 p.m. (long-ass day) and stopped at Harris-Teeter on the way home to buy red seal ale, one of which I am drinking right now. Filmgrrl called on my way home from the store and we talked till a few minutes ago. She is still upset and said that her partner is also upset and they fell asleep worried about me and woke up worried about me. I told her I am in a different space now, but she said "I can't believe you were going to do this alone and weren't even going to call me so we could do it together." (There is no way I would ever do that though because I don't want the world to not have someone as wonderful as Filmgrrl in it—plus, the world really needs her films.) I don't think I could bear a world without her (or my little brother Lad) in it. She also said we will just take CeeCee with us to the Adirondacks, which is such a relief because I want and need to see Filmgrrl as soon as possible. • New topic. So I've been emailing back and forth with this beautiful Asian woman, but think we probably don't have that much in common (see earlier entry), and, frankly, it's mostly been a distraction from my long lonely nights. Anyway, she took my compatibility survey (which is right there on my profile page, folks, so feel free t take it). My master survey includes my answers, but I have been careful to delete them unless someone was bold enough to include her answer too, but I somehow failed to delete my answer to "Describe the best sex you ever had" and so sent this: Alex, a gorgeous student in my self-defense class who volunteered whenever I asked for someone I could grab from behind, say, or who would grab me from behind or tumble to the mat with me (or whatever), called me within an hour of the conclusion of our final class and said "This is Alex. I want to fuck you. Now" (mirroring my exact thoughts).I must say that this woman's subsequent emails have been a lot more interesting (!) but I still don't think she's my type and have realized that I am just not a casual sex person, despite the, uh, lip service I give to the concept. I don't want to just meet some stranger and fuck her and then go home, even if my body might respond to this particular stimulation. I want to make love too, not just fuck. I want it to be the deep communication that sex can be when you really connect with another person and express it physically—not a couple of strangers getting off on each other. I'd rather wait for someone who matters. 10:29 p.m. - 2005-04-19 ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- |
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