Archive for sexual expression

A former slut examined

Posted in former slut, fucks, minx, sex blogging, sugasm, thinky with tags , , , , , , on June 16, 2008 by evilminx

So… I was doin’ some thinkin’. I believe that I’ve mentioned previously the difficulties inherent in adjusting to the new mindset in which i now find myself.

(Sub-question: can one find oneself in a mindset? Answers on something glittery to Minx Central, 3 CommentWhore Avenue, the Blogosphere 696969.)

These are formidable, but not insurmountable. And I’m not moaning about having to deal with them, on the contrary. In my heart, even before all the shit hit the fan, I knew it was time for a change. Would I have rather that said change had come with less stress and angst? Sure, but them’s the breaks. But it needed doing. Faced with a choice of letting one of two people down, i chose instinctively to let down the one who meant oh-so-much less to me — which de facto meant that the other meant oh-so-much to me… something I’d been incapable of seeing for the longest time.

But anyway. Onwards.

I was thinking about why i did what i did over the last few years. Much has been made of infidelity being symptomatic of other things that have soured in a relationship. But if i examine not the infidelity as the central theme, but rather the stuff of which it consisted, I find myself ruminating somewhat philosophically.

I thought about the men with whom i dallied. There were quite a few, in total, but the first couple were serious relationships that encompassed far more than sexual exploration and gratification. Although, hell knows, there was plenty of that too. After those two, i actively chose to keep my emotions out of things, for the most part, since they only fucked everything up. And that’s when the real fun started.

Now i want to be clear — this post is not about justifying my actions. I’m not saying i did right, or wrong. I did what i did, and then when it came to a crashing end, i accepted responsibility for my actions and moved on in the direction that was agreed upon by CH and myself — mutually. He is aware of all that I did, minus the more salient and nitty-gritty details, and he is able to leave it behind us.

That said, I should also point out that for the majority of what i have come to consider to be the third section of my less-than-faithful lifestyle, I was under the impression that CH and I would soon be dissolving our marriage and going our separate ways. The only reason I was not encouraging this to happen sooner was, as documented here among many other places, because one of his parents is/was gravely ill, and i just could not square making him go through a divorce and all the upheaval that would ensue, just because I was unhappy.

Which was my big issue throughout the time i was considering the divorce anyway. That I’d created a situation which was all about ME, and what a selfish cunt i was to be thinking that way, and what about my kids, and why didn’t I just suck it up and get on with things like any normal or decent person would?

It’s not a 100% accurate representation of our situation, i can confidently say now, with the clarity of hindsight. But the illness thing was a convenient reason for slipping back comfortably into the soft warmth of denial, which was so much easier. All the while continuing to experiment on the side.

And i won’t lie to you. Said experimentation was fun. But it also, in way, became a routine. Searching for specific sex-related inspiration, to write another piece of erotica to fulfill my Sugasm or Fleshbot quota.

I mean, if I think about the various men with whom i had relationships, of whatever variety, there were a very small number whom i considered actual lovers, as opposed to fucks. Fucks, in this context, meaning someone with whom i established some kind of written and often spoken relationship, prior to getting horizontal, (or, on occasion, vertical) but was essentially a one-off meet. The one-off-ness of the thing generally being at my instigation. The lovers were actual relationships — some shorter, others longer.

There were about six actual lovers, the longest of which was with the Muse, which lasted a year, and was conducted long distance. With him, and with G also, i was actually in love. After the Muse, i couldn’t do love anymore. I just didn’t have it in me to get knocked down so low again.

Of the other men with whom I’ve associated, there were several with whom i only ever spoke, or chatted, and communicated via keyboard and fingertip — never meeting them face to face. Some of those have remained around as they became true friends to me, and I to them.

As i said, i do not justify whether what I did was right or wrong in this discussion, but you know something? I do believe that there was something in me that needed to be exorcised. I needed to do this, somehow, some way, at some point in my life. My timing is questionable, certainly, but it was a need that my psyche as much as anything else needed to fulfill. Apparently there’s a lot more to the whole “sowing your wild oats” thing than I previously thought.

In assessing the subconscious needs i felt , it occurs to me that as time progressed, a pattern emerged. I never stayed with a lover long, before looking for and finding a new one. I needed the sharp thrill of a new body and a new mind; the various comparisons between men and how differently they function, or spoke, or acted, or smelled, or did, or fucked… I could go on for hours.

I missed out on a great deal of freedom of sexual expression growing up because I was always so self-conscious — about how i looked, who i was, how i acted, and especially what i should or shouldn’t do (the good girl, remember?) as opposed to what i wanted to do. And it wasn’t only with sex that I was repressed. I continually belittled my own talents and abilities, thinking that I was incapable of achieving anything really significant; the words of my parents constantly echoing in my ears “That’s not the sort of thing we do, we just carry on with our normal lives.”

In other words, don’t reach for the stars. There’s no point. You wouldn’t get there, so be satisfied with what you are and what you have.

I missed out on a lot by believing myself unworthy or incapable. And then i began express myself sexually, and the other stuff followed. My writing abilities, for one thing. Whether you like my style or not, i am now more sure than ever that I can put pen to paper (or perhaps more accurately in this case, finger to keyboard) with some measure of success… and now I have started, ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me, either.

So the opportunities presented me within the sexual arena became just too irresistible. And far from being grateful for a touch or a stroke or a fumbled grope as I had been growing up, i was always taking notes in my head. Fodder for more written erotica. Things to remember to try again. Things to remember to avoid like the plague. Confident in myself as a sexy, woman, desirable and hot — not the girl “who nobody would go out with” — a phrase that haunts me to this day from my childhood. And always enjoying myself, and increasing exponentially my sexual self-knowledge and experience.

A former eclectic slut who wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

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