Kate... uncensored

Direct approach

I do not like to ask for help.

Or permission for that matter.

But I see it is time to come out and ask J the question that lingers.

I have to ask him to have sex with me.  No, subtlety will not work here. No use insinuating that I want him to.  Nor will I be teasing in the hopes he picks up on it.

We're getting to the "take off your clothes and throw your panties in his face" stage of the game.

I need to ask him how he wants me to initiate.  How I can know whether or not he's interested.  How I can show him I am.

What's in a name?

Here, I call him J

I do not want to use his name here, any more than I want to annoy him by using nicknames he dislikes at home.

I long for something better, more descriptive, while preserving his anonymity.  Something better than a simple initial. 

The same way I long to have something I alone call him, in the quiet tender moments between us.

Funny

I often tell him he's funny.  Only "funny" isn't the word.

It's a deflection.

I say he's funny when he gives me that look.  The one that is kind, sweet; full of heat and love and affection.  The one that shakes me to the core, though it never visibly ruffles my feathers.

I can't help but say it.  Because I could acknowledge that he loves me and that I love him, and while often I do, sometimes I'm so overcome with emotion that all I can do is turn from the look and dismiss it with "you're funny."

It's rude, really, I know but I can't find another way to express the need to look away.  I feel if he looks at me like that too long I will melt into a puddle.  I will turn into a mess of a girl.  It will be my undoing, that look.

He'll get inside the places no one has ever been, the ones no one was meant to go, the ones that were only mine before.  Seeping into the cracks, slipping behind every crevice to fine the parts of me unfiltered, unfound.

Then I'll really be his and he'll really have gotten me and it won't just be something he says when he holds me close to him at night

expectations

Everyone has them.

You place them on yourself, if you're lucky enough to be with someone who seems not to have any of you.  You feel the ones placed on you by your upbringing, by society. 

You try to live up to said expectations, and even when you realize they're entirely too unreasonable, you still blame yourself for failing.

Ok, wait.  Maybe that's just me.

He seems (and claims) to have no expectations, of me, of what our relationship should be.  I seem to function better when I know what's expected of me. 

And yet, I'm terrified to ask again, if indeed he has developed expectations.  If he has some that he doesn't want to share.  Because I'm scared I won't live up to them, the way I can't seem to live up to my own.

Abnormal

I've never been entirely sure what is normal.  I've been pretty sure I am not it.

Logically, I know that my sex drive isn't that outrageous.  That plenty of other women (and men) react the way I do, feel the way I do, think and act the way I do about sex.

I've been down this road, I'd rather not re-travel it.  I've examined and analyzed and debated by sexuality, my libido, my normalcy.

Women are expected to think anytime we want it, you (being the man) do. If we're thinking about it, you probably are too.  Because, as I've discussed here before, we're led to believe that the weaker sex is the less interested one.  That no matter how much we want it, men want it more.

And once again, I find myself with someone who wants less, who initiates less.

When I get into bed naked beside a naked someone else, I think about touching and tasting and teasing.  They perhaps think this is a time for sleep.  Neither one is wrong, but I beat myself up.

Constantly.

It's ridiculous.

I know it's a case of needing better communication.  Of me opening up and sharing my anxiety, my insecurity.  Of asking him the questions I've so far left unasked.  Because I know we're both holding back, that maybe we're both intimidated by the other.  By the strength of our feelings.  By the situation. 

courage and risk

I was told I had courage for leaving, for making the choice to go after something else, after a life I wanted.  That I took a big risk by going someplace new to be with someone.

I don't always feel courageous, sometimes I don't have the nerve to speak my mind or to admit to my fears.

And I don't think of myself as a risk taker, though some would disagree.  Depending on how you look at it, I suppose I have made some risky choices.   Going away to school so young was a risk, as was starting my business. 

But this?  This didn't feel like a risk, because he feels safe, like home; it felt more like a certainty than a chance.

Gun happy and trigger shy

I held a gun for the first time the other day.  Depending on how and where you grew up, you may laugh, but I had not had the opportunity until now.  

I then got to practice a few shots with a pellet gun.  (Hey, you have to start someplace.) I jumped about two feet the first time I shot, mostly at the noise, but I didn't panic.  My heart sped up, but it didn't race.  I felt more comfortable than I might have guessed.  My aim was better than I could have predicted, and I didn't feel too apprehensive.

But I've been very apprehensive about pulling another trigger.

In the past, I have usually been the more aggressive sexual partner, and mostly the more aggressive in personality as well.  I will confess that I have a hard time being the aggressor in this new relationship.  Traditionally, its been an issue of trust and control, and  I don't always find myself with people who can be the aggressor, given their personalities and preferences.  Those who have been, I haven't trusted enough to let them be.

I trust him implicitly, and have no problem letting him be in control.  I don't feel the need to circumvent his advances with my own as I have with past partners.

I find myself resorting to subtleties, hinting and flirting and teasing, making playful comments and hoping kisses will spark something.  I feel a little ridiculous, because I know men often don't recognize subtle hints.  Hell, lots of men don't even recognize broad hints.  And yet, I can't just slide a hand around the back of his neck, pull him to me and tell him I need to be fucked.

I think of ways to seduce him when he's gone or asleep and then chicken out.  I get ready to just approach him boldly, and as I get close in actual physical distance, I lose words, and my body betrays me, backing off as I move to do it.

I don't think I was aware of how much the years of sexual rejection in my marriage affected me.  Because I learned that even if you're interesting, fun to be around, fuck, even loved - that doesn't necessarily go hand in hand with being desired and wanted.  I hate that I've lost confidence and that I'm somewhat insecure and neurotic about the whole thing.

I can't tell if he, like me, is hesitating, or if there's still so much outside influence playing in.

When you're having a sexual relationship outside the boundaries of a traditional one, it's easier. A "no" rarely happens, and when it does, it's often more due to circumstance and schedule than anything else. When you're with someone full time it's inevitable that they will not feel well, will be too tired, will just not be into it at some point. And while "no" isn't "never", until you've heard the first one, you're nervous.  You may be so nervous that it's better to have them come to you than chance the rejection.

You hesitate, and decide not to pounce, because you'd rather be frustrated than rejected. 

I have a feeling once I make the first move the first time I'll feel better.  Of course there is the chance he says no, but hearing it will only mean no that time and will serve as another piece in the re-building, because certainly it's worse in my head than in real time.

I just need to pull the trigger.

*Note in response to Patricia's comment: I'm not just a fuck.  He doesn't think it and neither do I.  I already know I have his respect and his love, as he does mine.  I'm not thinking my value lies in my ability to get him into a frenzy, but it would be nice to know I could.

fear and reluctance

I do wonder sometimes what it's like to live with no fear.  Or be as close to fearless as some people I know.

Some fear is healthy I suppose.  But I'll never be the kind of person to run into a burning building, like my grandfather did on his mail route so many years ago.  I'll never swim with sharks or jump out of an airplane. 

I've lived with a lot of fear the last few years. 
Some fears are a little bit irrational, like my extreme fear of spiders (don't even like typing the word)
Some are perfectly justified, like worrying that the chemo wouldn't work, or that the cancer comes back.

There's a lot of fear in a new relationship. 

Fear, for me, causes hesitation; reluctance.  This in turn has a tendency to piss me off.  I've been able to dismiss most of them, but some remain.  I'm working on it, though, because I don't like being conquered by the fear or even deferring to it.

confession

My first holy confession - I was in the second grade.  I chose Father Jennings because he was very hard of hearing.  I figured, based on comments from previous kids in class, that no matter what I said, I'd receive 3 "hail Marys" and an "our father".  They were correct.  Over the next several years, I found myself making sure I had things to confess to - over-inflating mistakes so they seemed severe enough.  I was not a child to disobey often.  My worst offense was a smart mouth and there was an occasional white lie. "No, of course I didn't push my sister!"

In reality, I've rarely confessed, it is easier to keep it in than to give the information away.

But, I'm ready to confess now, and since you've read so many of my confessions before, I figure, what's one more?

There's a man. 

Shocked? I doubt it, there's been enough foreshadowing here and there.  Still, it's different to admit it.  But, I thought you'd want to know.