Coming Out...Again

The past month has been heavy with exploration of my sexuality, my gender, and my gender expression.

For the past 10 years, I have stifled my sexuality. I have also maintained a fairly rigid gender expression: I have been expressing as femme or female. After the break-up, I went into femme overdrive. I can't explain why. It might have been an attempt to draw in hard butches, to sooth my shattered ego.

A few weeks ago, just before my birthday, I felt a shift. I just couldn't put on another lacy bra. I just couldn't put on another pair of girly underwear. As a birthday present to myself, I went to Bishop's Barber Shop on Alberta.  Becky gave me a fade with shaved part. As my already short hair went shorter, I felt a weight coming off my shoulders.

A week or so earlier than that, I had been sending TBT photographs to Kyle so he could get an condensed version of my history. As I went through these photographs, I realized that there were photographs capturing moments when I felt strong and able. There were other photographs when I felt awkward or invisible. The common thread for the strong and able photographs was an androgynous styling, a specific absence of make-up or other traditionally feminine or female markers.

As I thought on this, I realized that previous discussions of pretty vs. handsome had a clear bearing on this topic.

Being friends with SisterFriend was a joy, though I couldn't quite shake the insecure feeling that I was the "ugly friend" there to highlight how pretty I find her. I knew then, like I know now, I am not a pretty woman. I thought that meant I was an ugly woman, because I thought there were only the two options.

I'm not sure how I came to the understanding that attractiveness is a spectrum, much like so many other things. I could be something other than ugly. I recalled the idea of a handsome woman. Not to be confused with a butch woman,  a handsome woman was a feminine woman, who was handsome rather than pretty. As I looked in the mirror each morning, I recognized that I am a handsome woman, much like my great-grandmother, Mary Long.

Finding myself handsome, rather than ugly, lead to a further rediscovery. There were days, when I was in grade school, that I would ask to be called "Matt" after my initials MAT. I sought to understand how my childhood chosen name and my recognition of myself as handsome were linked...something tugged at the corner of my brain. I recognized that I don't always fit in the female body I wear, though sometimes I do fit in it. There was a word on the tip of my tongue...


GENDER FLUID...I had heard it, but not thought about it...

From the Urban Dictionary:

Gender Fluid:

Gender Fluid is a gender identity best described as a dynamic mix of boy and girl. A person who is Gender Fluid may always feel like a mix of the two traditional genders, but may feel more boy some days, and more girl other days. Being Gender Fluid has nothing to do with which set of genitalia one has, nor their sexual orientation.

No, I'm not a boy, and I'm not a girl either. I am gender fluid.

by SonicJMC January 21, 2007

PRONOUNS

I prefer gendered pronouns:

she her hers herself

he him his himself

I want to embrace the dynamic and shifting nature that I feel inside. It changes and I want my pronouns to be dynamic and shifting, too. So, please ASK. My pronouns might have changed since we last met.

However, right now, in the claiming of my gender identity, I do not want to be viewed as a woman.  I have spent the past 41 years being viewed as a woman. I enjoy my female body. And I want to push the boundaries a bit further, because I don’t want there to be any doubt that I am not a woman. My pendulum is swinging toward the masculine end of the spectrum. I am attempting to minimize and hide the secondary sexual characteristics of my female body. I don’t know how else to stop being seen as a woman without taking on some of the male characteristics.

It’s frustrating…because right now I am very sensitized to it. Later, I don’t think that it will be such a big deal, but right now it is.

Evolution of Thought: Accountability

This post is an evolution of thought regarding my original post.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I’ve been thinking more about accountability. It is incredibly important to me to be accountable for my actions, so I am still chewing on this incident of boundary stomping.

As I often do, I discussed the incident with The Knife.  She is one of two people that I can 100% rely on to say what she means, and mean what she says. She doesn’t pull punches just because we’re friends (see the bruise on my left arm if you have questions about that.) In the discussion that ensued, one thing that came up is the idea that it is not unreasonable to expect that people to state their boundaries and/or expectations.

In reviewing the incident in my mind, I realized that I failed to state my expectations. I could have stated my boundaries, but let’s face it, I live with BPD, I don’t really have boundaries. I definitely have expectations, though.

So, for the record:

1. I expect that you will say what you mean.
2. I expect that you will mean what you say.
3. I expect that you will own your boundaries and expectations, even if they are informed by outside influences and/or people.
4. If we are friends, I care about you. I care about your boundaries and expectations. I am curious about the things that inform your boundaries and expectations. Even though I am curious about those things, as an insight into you and your personhood, I don’t give a shit about them outside of how they impact you.
5. I expect that if you are triggered by my actions, you will remember that your triggers are your responsibility, just like my triggers are my responsibility.  By all means, please let me know. I am more than willing to take note of them, so I can either warn you or avoid that issue altogether.  I also ask that you take the time to remember that if I haven’t been made aware of your triggers ahead of time, I cannot take any action to avoid them.

In conclusion, the evolution of my thought process leaves me with the following:

I’m not going to ask about boundaries and expectations. As adults, it is our responsibility to share them with the people we meet and make relationships with.

I will state my expectations more clearly, in the hopes that people who can meet my expectations will hang around and those that can’t meet my expectations will self-select out of my friendship circle. This is the life lesson I will carry with me and I will integrate it, and live it.

Everything's Coming Up....Poly?

R: I truly love you, with all of me.
K: I know and that knowledge fills me with love and light and good energy. Your love is very good for me.
R: I feel the same. It feels good to be free to be me.
K: My love is free. :-) I love you as a free person coming to me in love and free will.

Kyle and Red

This conversation with Kyle, like so many others, stands in stark contrast to my past experience. When BadBoy broke up with me, I did not believe that my heart would ever be fully whole again.  That was likely the depression talking.

When I met Kyle, it was because my friend was dating him. He and I chatted about all kinds of things, including my devastating break up. I explained my dream of keeping my family together; BadBoy and I continuing to care for our daughter in the family home, while being free and able to see other people, have other relationships.  It is an ideal that I still cling to, as I step forward into my new life.

One of my biggest issues with my past three relationships was the fact that I had the high libido in each of them.  I broke up with the first one because she refused to go to counseling and I could no longer stay in a sexless relationship. I cheated on her several times, as a means of trying to get what I needed. I didn’t feel good about it in the long run; cheating was a crappy option. I broke up with the second one, because even though I was clear about my libido and she did her best to deliver, over the long run that didn’t work for her, which ended up not working for me.  My relationship with BadBoy ended because she could no longer accept the way my sexual frustrations came out sideways; my passive aggressive behavior and just plain aggressive behavior, making the house an incredibly uncomfortable place to be.  I don’t blame her; living with me was a tumultuous endeavor.

Deciding to try non-monogamy came about because I did not believe that there was anyone on the planet who could keep up with me.  The Knife and I would joke that I would need 14 lovers to keep up with my libido, maybe even 21.  Non-monogamy seemed the clear choice, even though I had never considered it before. I’m finding that 14 lovers probably won’t be necessary, or even desirable. I’m standing by my desire to have sex with friends, by making friends first.

As for Kyle, he and I fell in love. I admire how he loves his family. I adore the sense of his presence when he is with me; and that fact that he strives for that with all his friends and lovers.  I want to lick his dirty brain, know all the things that he thinks about and loves. I never know how he will surprise me with language and intellect. I want to speak with him about life, the universe, and everything.

When we first started out, barely a month ago, I reminded him that I’m not sure that I am poly or even non-monogamous.  I reassured him that I accept him as he is, regardless of where I fall in the relationship spectrum.

Today, I identify as functionally polyamorous; I love BadBoy and I love Kyle. I’ll likely not ever have 14 lovers, but I’m ok with that. I’m still learning how to manage and cope with envy and jealousy. I’ve got the rest of my life to figure it out.

I am in a relationship with a man who says, “I love you as a free person coming to me in love and free will.” I strive to be worthy of that love.

Grins and Giggles

== Results from http://bdsmtest.org/ == 
100% Experimentalist 
100% Primal (Predator) 
100% Primal (Prey) 
100% Switch 
96% Masochist 
96% Sadist 
93% Non-monogamist 
91% Bondage Giver 
88% Bondage Receiver 
83% Exhibitionist 
79% Degradation Giver 
79% Voyeur 
77% Brat 
77% Brat Tamer 
66% Dominant 
66% Girl/Boy 
66% Submissive 
54% Daddy/Mommy 
54% Degradation Receiver 
34% Pervert 
25% Slave 
16% All-Rounder 
16% Master/Mistress 
0% Vanilla 
See my results online

Leveling Up: Accountability

Today, when I went to the bathroom, I did not smile as I looked in the mirror.  It is the first time that I wasn’t happy to see my newly rediscovered self. I couldn’t even look myself in the eye.  When I looked in the mirror, I saw someone who had crossed boundaries. I saw someone who had just gone on autopilot and spouted off about stuff that he knows nothing about. I saw someone who is realizing there is a deeper level of accountability that comes with being the person in my skin.

I suffer from Borderline Personality Disorder. For the record, I won’t be entertaining any comments re: whether or not this is a thing. I strive to manage this disorder, and mostly I like to think that I am successful. The two biggest issues that I have involve instant intimacy and impulse control. These two things can combine in a myriad of ways.

The management of this disorder involves me attempting to be clear and concise with my needs and expectations. It involves me just accepting what people tell me as the truth, in that particular moment. It involves being accountable for my actions. It hinges on being able to remember that my actions are separate from my identity. Some days I manage better than others.

This past week has shown me that I need to take on additional methods of management, most notably asking about the boundaries of other people. I always assumed that people would tell me their boundaries, unasked, because it seems quite clear to me that I cannot read minds. I also assumed that people would be clear about owning their boundaries.  And here is where we are reminded that assumptions make an ass out of you, or in this case, me.

So I pick up one more life lesson, and integrate it, and live it. I go on and do better tomorrow.

Evolution of my thought process on this topic.

On Being Bold (Part 2)

When I was finally able to park my car (as far away from Kyle as possible. I'm not sure how that happened.), I got out and watched him approach. It felt like a movie, like I should run towards him, jump in his arms, and have him spin me around, with the wind blowing my hair just so...

barf!

My body was vibrating from the excitement. I saw him, his handsome rogue smile, the mischievous glint in his eye. I was hard and soft and wet and melty all at the same time. I put my arms around him, inside his coat. I felt his arms wrap around my shoulders. I knew that I had come home. His arms felt like home.

AND

I felt like my skin was on fire with the energy between us. I remember being excited. I remember that trying to get my bag out of the car was unusually difficult, embarrassingly so. I don't remember much about getting to the room, but I recall once we were there, we made out on the couch...I was so nervous about kissing him.  Would he like it, would I like it, would our date end before it began. I was so resistant to it, and yet he was patient and kind and present in the moment. Gradually my nerves began to fade away.

Even before we got naked, it was incredibly intense. It was the most sexual activity I had engaged in, with another person in so long, in way too long. And it was just like riding a bike. My body was like, "It's about time, Red! Where the hell have you been?"

The pent up sexual frustration  that I had experienced over the past 3 years started to ease in that moment...I had countless orgasms during our grinding hot make-out session. The orgasms continued as our clothing was flying off all over the room and our lips/tongues/teeth/mouths/hands explored each other's bodies, making white hot lovers out of friends.

As the evening progressed, he showed me his hometown and all the places and things that he loves about it. We went to several places, including a used book store. We shared food and drink and stories. My heart leaped when I asked, "Star Wars or Star Trek?" and he answered, "I have to pick?" I was excited to show him one the most vile antagonists I've ever read about and tell him why I love that character, just a little bit, as he read the relevant passage.

We walked and played and ran (yes, I ran, on purpose, just for fun!) along the waterfront as we headed back to the hotel. I ran through the lobby and up the stairs with exuberance. I was so happy to be alive in that moment. I was so grateful that this part of my life had only been dormant, not dead.

As we returned to our room, my face flush with heart racing, it struck me that I love him. I was surprised and delighted with this realization. I think it might have something to do with the fact that meeting him, conversing with him...it was not the first time we had met. Maybe it was the first time for this lifetime, but it felt more like recognition.

It felt like recognition of my soul mate, my twin flame. Though, I don't believe that there is only one for each person. I think we are capable of multiple soul connections over the course of our lifetimes.

As we made love, fucked, had sex, and screwed for the remainder of the night, new layers were revealed; each orgasm rolling into the next, our interactions fluidly rolling and transitioning as our energy shifted about.

It was heavenly. It was glorious. And yes, #cutegrosslove.

On Being Bold (Part 1)

This new year started in late November for me.  I was getting finally getting my feet under me after the depression, break up, and suicidal tailspin that hit like a one-two-three punch in the middle of September. I was trying to figure out how to salvage what was left of my family unit, maintain my tenuous sanity, and get my sexual needs met in an ethical way. I had been chatting with Kyle on the FB, bouncing ideas around and being generally nosey, because I really admire how his family seems to work. I found it helpful; not just because he had tons of great advice, but because the talking allowed me to clarify what I really wanted my family and my life to look like after this major cataclysm.

I was also reading the erotica on his blog. The daddy/girl stuff?  HOT, HOT, HOT! It made it easier for me to open up about what my sexual needs are, because I really resonated with the role play and being a slutty little girl. We would talk about the abstract aspects of sexual need and then progress to the personal aspects and specific turn-ons. My cunt would get so wet, and my clit so hard, that I would want to put my hands all over myself… I always wanted to push the envelope. And then I would back off, because…break ups and hurt feelers on both sides. It was an awkwardly seductive dance; I loved and hated every second of it.

One of the things to come out of the disaster of my break up is my decision to be bold. I’ve whined about no one ever making the first move.  Now I have decided to make first moves. When Oregon Girl broke up with Kyle, I let him know my interest in doing more than just talking about sex.  When she wrote, unprompted, to say that she gave her blessing if Kyle and I ever became lovers, I replied right away to tell her that I was going to pursue him. It was fast. I know that it was fast. I know that my friend’s feelings were hurt at the speed of my response.  While I ached at her hurt, I could not stand idly by, doing nothing.

The anticipation of my first date with Kyle incited excitement and butterflies in my belly. Originally, we were just going to have an afternoon of hanging out, but after several sexy phone calls, we realized that we were going to need more time together. I think I realized it first.  I think that Kyle was resistant, because he was still protecting his recently broken heart. Of course, he can answer that question better than I can.

I was filled with excitement because there so much about Kyle that turns my crank. He’s incredibly smart and sexy. He likes so many of the same sexual and kinky things that I like. He is a dirty, slutty, and passionate beast.  I was also excited because of the way he processes information and emotion. I love that he actually does it, and that he is verbal about it as well.  SWOON! Oh, and he SINGS!!!! Double SWOON!

I was feeling butterflies, too. I was so nervous. I couldn’t remember the last time I had enjoyed a passionate kiss or make-out session, much less lovemaking. I was not kissing compatible with BadBoy and we hadn’t kissed in months, maybe even years. I hadn’t had sex in months and before that, the sex that did we did have lacked passion. Truthfully, our sex life was fraught with tension and angst on both sides. As much as my body responded to Kyle over the phone…I was terrified that I would be a terrible kisser and terrible in bed. I kept thinking that the baggage that I had with BadBoy would magically show up on this trip. I was a bundle of nerves.

When the day finally arrived, I pulled my car in the Hotel parking lot. I saw him waiting for me outside the lobby door. He was wearing jeans, cowboy boots, plaid shirt, and a leather bomber jacket. FUCK ME! I almost crashed my car...NO JOKE.

2015

This is a new year. My personal new year started Wednesday. I have completed 41 revolutions around our planet's daystar. I feel more alive than I did when I went on my "last first date" with BadBoy in 2010. I feel more alive than I did when BadBoy and I went to KinkFest 2011. I feel more alive than I did when my daughter was born in 2012. I feel more alive than I did when I married BadBoy in 2013. I definitely feel more alive than I did when BadBoy opened up our first round of marriage counseling with a break up letter in 2014.

Regarding my first date with BadBoy, I called SisterFriend and shouted with glee, "I've gone on my last first date!" Famous last words. SMH.

It was the third relationship to end in the past 10 years. Characterizing the similarities of these three relationships, there are 2 main things that stand out:

1. My libido was light years beyond my companions. They might keep up in the initial throes of NRE (New Relationship "fuck like bunnies" Energy), but then they realized that I always wanted to fuck like bunnies.
2. Once they hopped of the fuck like bunnies train, I would enter the recalcitrant, rapacious, incredibly passive aggressive world of sex starvation.

After BadBoy broke up with me, I decided to follow in the footsteps of my friend, The Femme. She had been recently trying out the poly lifestyle and was seeming to love every second of it. She thought I should try it, too. (Oddly enough, BadBoy had also suggested it months previously, but I was still mired in monogamy at the time.)

Generally, I jump into things and then try them out for a bit. Then I give them up, just as quickly. I didn't want to do that this time around, so rather than coming out as poly, I decided to stick with my monogamous identity and state that I was giving non-monogamy a test run.

I had been chatting with Kyle over at Butchtastic.net to get his advice on high libido, kink, and non-monogamy with kids and a spouse. I had gleaned several things from our conversations:

1. There are plenty of people who are slutty like I am, even if I hadn't met them yet.
2. Envy and jealousy are normal, it's just how non-monogamous folks deal with those emotions that differs from most folks.
3. He is FUCKING HOT.
4. His dirty brain totally turns me on...in ALL THE WAYS.

So this year is the start of what I feel will be an incredible rollercoaster ride. This is what feeling alive feels like to me. Right now, I'm click click clicking up the first hill, feeling like I'm going to pee my pants with anticipation. I have a feeling the ride might be one of those rides that I want to ride over and over and over again.

Cheers to doing new things. Cheers to changing my life. Cheers to living fully in my slutty, kinky, dirty, filthy, and sweet nature.