I know I make it sound like my sex life with Noah is awful and it isn’t. The vast majority of our sex together is terrific or I wouldn’t be so loyal. It’s just sometimes awful. And the sometimes is a significantly decreasing percentage of our sex life as the years pass.
But there are a bunch of layers to this.
I’ve been sustaining genital injuries during sex for over thirty years. I am no longer able to react to this moment when stuff like that is happening. I can’t. I get in the forever-place where this will never stop and I should just die to get away from it because nothing I can ever do will make people stop hurting me this way.
I do not pretend it is rational. I acknowledge that it is happening. Bodies aren’t rational.
Trauma living in the body is a well documented phenomena. If you don’t believe me you can do your own damn research. I’m satisfied.
I think there is some validity to “You’ve been safe for 10 years so you’ve finally been able to mature to about 13 and that means you are rebelling and individuating in asshole ways.”
I think there is validity to the point that was made last night: I had my first six months off from genital pain during sex during my lifetime on the roadtrip. There is the possibility that my body started to feel like, “Hey wait… maybe that doesn’t have to happen.”
I know it is happening much less. I only have two clear memories since I’ve been home from the roadtrip. So that’s way decreased frequency.
But if you look at dog training, intermittent reinforcement (negative or positive) is a much more effective teacher than constant reinforcement.
I’m fucking paranoid every time we have sex that this time is going to be another time and it takes me a while to unwind and get into sex and that’s hard for Noah. It makes it much more difficult to relax and get into anything.
The last date for slut month? Cancelled. Guess why? Illness in the Bonus Family and he is sick too.
I guess that’s… meant to be? Ha.
If I have to be monogamous, at least it is with Noah.
He’s a ridiculous amount of fun to have sex with. When I’m not paranoid I’m about to be a fleshlight.
(I have been feeling annoyed about the canceled/cancelled spelling distinction lately so I looked it up. Given that my audience spans countries where both spellings are valid I figure I will just go back and forth between the spellings forever. I don’t need to pick a side here.)
I suggested to Noah that for a while maybe he doesn’t initiate penetration at all until I verbally say “I’m ready.” This is going to be a stretch for both of us.
I think part of the reason I hide behind sex with new people is: it’s not hard to have boundaries with them. I can tell a new person “no” all day long. Once a relationship gets more complicated… my ability to say no kind of evaporates.
Hanging out with my kids full time is quite the adventure. I have to have boundaries with my closest people. But they aren’t sexual. I mean, the boundaries are brick wall clear and not ambiguous and I never have to wonder about how to enforce those kinds of boundaries. That’s the easy part.
I have placed an unfathomably unfair problem on Noah: I will not tell you no and you need to figure out how to not hurt me.
And I keep score. And I get bitter over the years.
Fuck I’m such a fucking bitch.