Guess I’m ready to get out there–ten years come January since having any sex beyond my vibrator, and twelve years since my breakup with G, my ex.
I will be doing some fragments of personal/political essays, memoir, poetry.
And this involves sex.
Mixing a bit of my present oddity of a would-be lover who now stalks me not so secretly with past experiences with lovers/friends.
Men are not the only ones who need that pulse/throb in their flesh to build and imagine. That back-arching orgasmic throb that makes you holla.
Some of what I will say will disturb you.
I might post my current profile on f-life. Not my name, though.
My would-be lover can gorge on what he clearly is unable to produce in his own life while watching me move back into a healthy social life that will, with a bit of social engagement allow me to find a woman or man who is ready to enjoy real companionship.
My would-be lover who can’t get it up with me unless I am asleep and not aware of him, i.e., he’s got predatory/toxic masculinity issues, prefers women who are passive and weak, easy to manipulate. In other words, me for the last ten years. When I met this guy in 2015, I was at my lowest. Prey. I did not establish boundaries or set standards or limits. My body and mind needed a shock to get me to pay attention to what was happening to my personal agency as I kept giving more and more to someone who was not returning the energy.
My grand mal seizure is God’s reminder to me that I do matter. She/He woke me up. Now I am ready to get back to being ME and expressing ME. And God really does like seeing me enjoy life, good sex, happy times.
Time for a work meeting. Then time for some vibrator moments.
You might get some more writing from me tonight. Maybe.