Sometimes I reflect on the fact that my brain is wired to experience all times as now. I often feel as present with the self I was at three as I will be at sixty-eight. I’m every age all at once. Sometimes I feel like all of my experiences, all of the self I will ever have is loudly banging on the inside of my head demanding attention.
Which self will I manifest in this moment?
This is very present for me when I think about how word meanings have shifted.
When I was a kid I was told I was gonna get licked all the damn time. It meant a variety of things. It wasn’t fun. It wasn’t hilarious. It was… a problem. It meant I was going to be hit. It meant someone was going to have sex with me. Getting licked wasn’t a great thing.
I never really liked the ones who insisted on going down on me before fucking me. I sorta knew without knowing that part of the reason they did that was so the saliva could mask the lack of arousal.
The things you know as an adult on the other side.
I’m way more ok with a spit wad in the hand being rubbed on my cunt than fakey foreplay from someone who bloody well knows this isn’t going to be good for me.
How how how can you believe that fucking a fifteen year old is good when you are forty-three? Guess what? That wasn’t rape. It really wasn’t. I know it is “statutory rape” and I know that legally I wasn’t allowed to consent. It wasn’t rape.
I know the difference.
Why is this self coming up today? Why is this bothering me so much right now? Why am I crying over this now?
I don’t know. Noah has been going down on me more. It has been rather awesome, actually. It’s not like what it was. He doesn’t do it to hurry up and get some spit down to ease the friction.
Well. Ok, sometimes he does. But when he does he is also talking very dirty and it is fucking hot and that’s ok. It’s different.
Why is it different?
Because this man takes care of me when I’m sick. Because he only does that to me on days when I’m in the mood and I’m nodding and giggling and he knows that I will catch up to being as ready as him any second now.
I think it is funny that I have learned as much from married monogamous sex as I ever did from being a slut. I’ve learned a lot more about weathering the storms of life. Because life does that.
Let me tell you there is a difference between someone who wants to get off using your pussy and someone who wants to get you off while he (or she or they or…) is in your pussy.
Don’t get me wrong. I’m not upset about the folks who used my pussy to get off. At least not the times I consented to being there. I learned a lot. I’m really glad I made the choices I made. Even the ones that weren’t stellar. Even the things that really kinda sucked.
I had a tremendously shitty childhood. Now it is over. Now I can do other fucking things.
But sometimes after playing with my kids and saying in an ogre voice I’m going to lick you I have to stop and consciously stomp on my desire to burst into tears. Because my kids aren’t afraid of me. They don’t think I will hurt them.
They think I am going to be gross and put saliva on their arm. Just like they have always done to me. It’s kinda hilarious in a really gross way.
I am not who I was. But I am. I always am. I always will be.
But I can be something different too.
I’m sick. I have a sore throat. My nose is running. I’m cold and hot at the same time. So fun.
Of course I got sick. I’m supposed to start a new schedule tomorrow. (Graduating into the day planner pages.) Duh I’m sick. That’s ok. A lot of the point of this schedule is to increase the rest in my life. Maybe the timing is even positive.
Ok I wouldn’t go that far.
Must stop. Hands say done.