Like a sex blog

My weekend was so up and down and all over the place, I really can’t do it justice in one post, plus I haven’t been posting here much lately and am trying to figure out why. I think in part it’s that I’m afraid of the potential reactions; writers are supposed to want readers, but sometimes when you have them, and when you know them and vice versa, it’s a challenge to Go There, to be honest, to bare all without worrying about hurting someone, or causing them stress. And I realize that part of my overall slowness/sluggishness/apathy/writer’s block/issues of late is that I’m afraid. I live with so much fear and then sometimes something happens—say, you leave your keys in San Francisco—and you realize that, okay, shit happens, and you move on.

So anyway, since rumor has it that this is a sex blog, and since, coincidentally, I had some sex this weekend, I want to actually talk about sex. If you don’t want to read about that or can’t deal, go read my cupcake blog.

I think the biggest problem with the lack of sex in a long distance relationship is the buildup – of tension, of expectations. You (meaning, well, me) get so focused on what you think is going to happen, how it’s going to be better than last time, how you’ll cram so much sex into so little time, you forget that things may not go exactly as you’d planned. It’s hard not to look forward to it, and I certainly have my little ongoing fantasies. I even wrote him a sex letter recently, because I was climbing the walls horny, but I didn’t send it, because I got nervous. What would he think about it? I wasn’t sure.

Saturday night I was talking to my friend Rachel and told her we were going to go to a museum on Sunday afternoon, and she said something like, “After lots of hot sex.” And I kindof shrugged, because I wasn’t at all sure we were going to have any kind of sex. I never really know and I realized that part of missing it is the act itself, but part of it is feeling wanted, by the person you’re in love with. Because there are definitely other opportunities out there for me to get laid, and some of them are very tempting, and sometimes I want to just forget about being in a relationship that sometimes seems touch and go to me and just pretend I’m single again. But what I really want is sex with him.

And Sunday as it turned out, we were lying in bed trying to plan our day, and J. said very matter-of-factly, “Okay, so let’s have some sex, then get breakfast, go to the museum, come back and have some more sex, and then I’ll put you in a cab.” It may not sound romantic written out like that, but it was to me. He looked so cute saying it and in some ways, more than the sex itself, I need that part of it—to know he wants it. There have been times when I’ve felt like I’m always the one initiating things and that’s hard, and sometimes not even worth it, because I don’t want to have sex just because I want to, like the other person is just going along with it to appease me.

Also, I had my period, which was more annoying timing-wise than anything else. I’m not anti-period sex, but in general when I have my period, all I want to do is crawl under a rock, or barring that, a blanket, and hibernate. I’m not just anti-sexual, I’m anti-social. I can be moody and grouchy and doing it is kindof the last thing on my mind. Which was unfortunate cause the week and a half or so preceeding it was when I was climbing the walls and just going insane.

But I wanted him at that moment, just as much as I ever had. I was on top of him and we were kissing and touching each other and I started to rub the head of his cock against my pussy and it felt so good. That is really just the hugest understatement but is the best I can do right now. I got a bit breathless and kept doing it and then I started to put him inside me. And then he was and it was almost like time stopped. I knew that wasn’t what we were supposed to be doing but it felt way too good. I think part of me just wanted to see what would happen, and since I had my period, the chances of me getting locked up were pretty slim, and we’ve both been tested. But I hadn’t not used condoms with a guy since 2006, and maybe that part lasted for less than a minute, but it was so powerful. I was kicking myself for not getting off my ass and going to the doctor to get a Pill prescription as I’ve been meaning to already.

We stopped and he put on a condom and then we did it forever. Okay, not literally forever, but for a long time, I have no idea how long. Most of it was amazing and then I started to get worried, in the way that I do. I was worried that maybe there was something wrong, that was why he hadn’t come. I was worried that maybe he wanted me to do something but wasn’t telling me. And then he’d grab me or move or kiss me and I’d forget all about those things and just focused on just feeling everything, not on What It Meant or what we were going to do later or what he might be thinking.

The rest of the day I was kindof a mess, but not because of the sex. I don’t even know why, though I think in part the pressure of traveling, crazy sleeping, trying to plan our time in these random increments of togetherness, starts to take its toll. You don’t have the same amount of leeway in figuring out how you are together. Sometimes there’s one thing that annoys or frustrates me and I’m like, “Maybe we shouldn’t be together.” And who knows? Maybe we shouldn’t, but it’s probably not because of one little thing but the combination or our personalities and our styles.

I will say that yesterday afternoon was probably, for me, the best sex we’ve had together. It made it hard(er) to leave, but it made me feel good, too. We ended our visit by being either silly or serious or some combination of the two, running through cities in which we could possibly live, trying to sortof ignore the distance, real and metaphorical. I got all tingly thinking about the sex, and mostly about those moments of unprotected sex. I feel like I’m not supposed to say they were totally hot, they made me feel closer to him than I normally do, but it’s true. They were and they did. It was sortof like, “Oh wow, this is how it could be.” Which is not to say I’m anti-condom, which is good because my friend Rachel Sarah gave me a whole bagful of them (though most I’m gonna give out at the next In The Flesh). Just that if I only get to have sex with him at most once a month, I want it to feel that good all the time, not just when we’re doing something we’re not supposed to.