back and forth

i woke up this afternoon sore on my entire right side. muscle aches, bruises, a couple of strains, and one really sharp pain in my hip. one good back rub later, i was actually able to get out of bed, but let's just say that last night/this morning's activities really took it out of me.

it's fun beyond description to get totally drenched in your lover's sweat as he battles you for supremacy. i play with submission a lot these days, but every once in awhile i get a wild hair to turn the tables. i mean, a girl can't be pliant and subservient all the time. what fun is that? thankfully, my favorite playmate is just as flexible as i am. he's more than willing to let me work it out on him as easily as he works it out on me. or is he?

sometime shortly before sunup, out of breath and tousled of hair, holding his wrists and enforcing my will, i got the distinct feeling that my efforts weren't so much subsuming him as they were amusing him. and that's when it hit me. he and i are best not when one or the other of us is in charge, but when we take each other on face to face. so as he baited me, i challenged him. our words got more daring, the adrenaline flowed. we locked hands, wrestling each other figuratively and literally. he snarled at me; i laughed at him. the taunts, throwing each other around the bed, the oh-so-sweet challenge of love not given lightly. we pushed each other to the brink physically and emotionally, and even beyond the brink.

oh, and were we ever rewarded. the sun rose over us entwined, his lips against my neck, my head resting in the crook of his arms, completely exhausted and thoroughly sated in each other's pleasure. power games are fine. egalitarianism, though? even sweeter.

reckless indifference

i spend a lot of time talking about maturity, responsibility and adulthood. a lot of this comes with the territory of being at the end of my twenties, i think. but really, in my heart of hearts, i am still the snotty little punk teenager i was back in the mid-90s. there's an element of arrested development at work here, for sure. i mean, the decisions i made at the end of my teen years locked me into a pattern that i've only just recently been able to break. there's some explanation for the just-don't-give-a-damn i feel sometimes.

but there's more to it than that. i still have a large streak of wild impulsiveness alive and well in me. i've noticed that in the last two years, i have been given to making decisions that rational adults would call foolish at best and dangerous at worst. many of these decisions have been shared with y'all here. but the closer i get to total freedom, the stronger these impulses get. for example, driving back from the bar exam, i was randomly seized with the urge to just... drive somewhere. not back home, but somewhere else in particular. just take off, no announcement, no plans. i didn't, largely because by the time i reached the junction between home and somewhere else, exhaustion had set in and i just wanted my bed. but had i been slightly less exhausted, who knows what might've happened?

there are so many things i've done this summer that defy logic and really serve to disprove everything i've ever said about maturity. but the best is yet to come. i made a decision last night that will either stay harmless fun or open up a pandora's box of bad consequences. and there's just no way to tell which one it is until it happens. you'd think that would make me nervous, scare me, or drive me to try to fix the problem. nope. my give-a-damn's busted. not only am i not afraid, but i welcome the consequences. let whatever's going to happen come on. i'm ready for some excitement. let's shake it up even worse than i have in the past.

life is meant to be lived. i'm going to live it. damn the torpedoes. full speed ahead.

death of a thousand cuts

the summer is slowly winding down. i'm finishing my time in the sublet, making plans for the next year of my life, getting ready to start the final year of my formal education and the first chapter of my new story as a woman on her own. this time has flown by so quickly that it's really hard to internalize. my new life and my old life are about to run smack into each other. the time is short; a matter of days until the balancing act that fall 2010 will become begins in earnest. the illusions i've built, the freedom i've grown into so well: these things will have to be tempered by the fact that, well, he'll be back here. the convenient excuse of a thousand miles is as gone as yesterday come this weekend.

we've started the process of working these issues out. i'm not sure reality has set in on his side. i don't really have the heart to be that blunt over the phone. these things are best suited face-to-face. it's been over two months since i last saw him. there will be a whole lot of forced cheer in the beginning, as we have fun with his friends, put on the happy face and pretend like there's nothing wrong. 'course, i didn't count on him being so terrible at compartmentalizing his feelings; our deep, dark secrets have been paraded around his circle of loved ones like painted-up tarts at times. i don't know how i feel about this, just that i'm not happy about it.

words have been exchanged, hurts have been confessed. the bloom has fallen off the rose. my anger, his anger, my disappointment, his bewilderment are now the currency of our communications. when we're not forced to get into these issues, i can discuss things with him like we're old friends. but as soon as he persists in delving into our problems, the ice block in my heart swallows up my emotions and turns me into a shadow of myself. i just don't want to deal with this anymore. i want to slash this gordian knot in half, unraveling all of this once and for all.

but we're not that lucky. he doesn't know that he'd be luckier if i could make that happen, if i could just slice through all of this, sever it all and leave the ends raw and bleeding onto the floor. but i do. i know what i've done. i know what i'm capable of doing. i know how badly i can wound. i don't like it, but it's true. if there was any way at all to just make this all go away, it would save him from a fate worse than the languishing death of a thousand tiny cuts. this is our reality, and this is our future. it's going to hurt far worse than anything you could ever imagine.

it's the right way to do it, to be smart, gradual, logical. but it'll be the death of me.

what a good boy

what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy. traditional impulses all; this is what your "traditional man" should be, i suppose. i'm a feminist; i'm not supposed to care about how tough, strong, etc. a man is. and yet, that's the one thing i seem to want above all else when i look for a man: alpha-male bona fides.

he's got them in spades. he's so cocksure. he knows he's the smartest guy in the room, no question. (he's not wrong, either.) it's nowhere near the traditional definition of BIG STRONG MAN, though. he's not a fighter. he's no one's concept of a tough guy; he's not in "shape," not at all a physical specimen. and yet, i simply cannot get enough of him. he's got a way about him that just oozes sex appeal. he's snarky, he's confident.

but it's more than that. he twins this cockiness with an equal measure of devotion. i know full good and well that he dominates me in part to show his power, but in part because he knows it serves my wishes. that's the bargain we've struck with each other, there in the dark. he gets to be the boss, the master... but we both know that we act in service of one goal only, and that's my pleasure. he says it low and slow in my ear: "i love to see you come for me." he claims that this is all about him, what he can do, and how addicted i am to him. he's part right; i am completely at his sexual mercy and he knows it. but that's not the whole story. as much power as he has over me, i have that much more over him. i hold him in my hands, literally and figuratively, when we're together.

maybe that's how these things square up, how two liberal feminists can have such a viciously retrograde sex life. it's a game; it's all a game with us. we play at these things. he holds me down and keeps me pinned under him, knowing full well that my struggles are nothing more than a charade. when he growls in my ear, ferocious and triumphant, "you can't get away from me; i can do whatever i want and you're totally fucking powerless," he knows that there's a limit to how true that actually is. he uses the language of the subduer, the attacker, but it's enclosed in this context between us. he forces, he strikes, he imposes his will. but all of this power only comes to him through my grant to him. without my suggestion, none of this happens.

so who's the strong one, the tough one? it's not so clear, is it? i've heard it said that the woman in every relationship holds the reins. i'm not sure that you can reduce this to such a strictly definable gender construct. what i do know is this: the structure between us exists at my insistence. it's based on years of carefully-earned trust, on both sides. it's interesting that the only way such a starkly violent, hyper-patriarchal sexual existence could possibly exist is because the relationship that undergirds the bruises, the scratches and the vicious words is so grounded in, for lack of a better description, love and respect. he honors me in ways i can't even articulate. it's because of that honor that he can debase me, objectify me, rule me. it's exactly what i want from him.

what a good boy, indeed.

more than this

you and i meet this way time and time again. usually it's my idea, but i finally got tired of being the needy one, so i tried to give you the weekend off.

but you had other plans, didn't you? i went and made it challenging. well, as challenging as i can. i made you ask me for once. and we both get exactly what we want. you get to take your liberties; i get to surrender myself completely to your savage mercy. we drink from each other over and over again, committing ourselves not to each other, but to our own pursuits of pleasure.

maybe i'm learning. i woke this morning with no care in the world, just the feeling of your arm across my hips. no pressure. no expectations. just you, and me, and the satisfaction of a job well done.

you know there's nothing more than this.