Thursday, December 10, 2009

“Do you want to see my vagina? Have you ever looked at one?'

'Of course.'

'Why 'of course'? Many men haven't. Straight men. They're scared to. It's the Medusa's head that turns them to stone.

John Updike, Witches of Eastwick

Ah women’s sexuality, a mystery sometimes to ourselves. I suspect that I’m no different than others, in that if I see a link that says “what do women want,” I click on it, curious for insight. Often, its bad advice for men, other times a report of research that is poorly interpreted by the reporter, but when the information is good something clicks and I analyze it terms of myself.

Months ago, there was a much discussed article on women’s sexual desire. The details have faded but three things have stuck with me, I need to watch bonobo porn. That women who identify as bi-sexual, select mates (long or short term) based on attractiveness rather than gender and it seems to me this makes us healthier. And lastly, what really turns women on is being desired.

Hmmm, that would explain a lot. Why we fret over our appearance, the shopping, the continual need for perfection. If it’s coming from inside, that means that its not (or less of) a construct imposed by society (men). But what’s the line between being desired and objectified?

Christine and I are speaking again. I knew it would take a while. One way that we are different is that I’m short tempered and I’ll flair up quickly, but I’ll be over it and have forgotten the incident just as quickly. Of course I can wreck havoc with those around me, but my friends are used to it and ignore or taunt me. Mimi rolls her eyes and looks at her watch; my cue to get back to business. Christine is the opposite and she can be days before she lets go of her anger and so it was this time.

Oh we had a doozy, we mined each others flaws and threw them at each other in the most hurtful ways, among the most pertinent to our relationship; me about her…”Christ, you think commitment is a sexually transmitted disease.” Or her about me, “How do you remember who you’re fucking, do you write their name and sex on your palm and look at it in the morning? Or don’t you care about their name, because I know you don’t care about their sex.” To which I replied, “Oh Christine the proud dyke who can’t bring herself to discuss her life with her family. As if they didn’t know.” To which she answered, “at least I know who I am.” She accused me of trying to organize her life like the objects on my desk and expect her to obey like Wags.

Finally she began screaming at me to get out of her room and I responded with the only thing that I wish I never said, as opposed having said differently, that I had paid for the room, “just like I pay for everything else in our lives,” so she could go and spend the night walking the streets. She didn’t deserve that, she’s come so much farther than I, considering where we started. It was over then; she stormed into the bathroom and stayed there and since it was a pocket door she didn’t even have the satisfaction of slamming it. The phone began ringing, the desk, asking if there was a problem.

In our recent conversations we spoke about the things we shouted; about our hopes, fears, needs and desires. Its all in the open.

When Chris and I first met, the electricity was palpable, but she insisted she only wanted a fuck buddy. That was fine, by then in my life I knew that lust and love were different, though at times can feel the same. It went like that for the first few months; she insisted that we see others and encouraged me when a friend or Rachel’s pursued me.

Shortly after graduation, I was mugged and spent a week in the hospital; Chris spent all her free time with me. Mom came up to be with me, at that time she was clearer than she had been in years, as she was in a medication trial, that would soon end due to some deleterious side effects that were effecting her. But for that week I had the mother of my childhood back and after Chris had left for the club, on the evening prior to my discharge, she told me that she had never known anyone who was so in love someone as Christine was with me and that I was very lucky. But Chris couldn’t acknowledge that.

Looking back, her encouraging me to come to Paris allowed her not face the decision on commitment. For my part, it was time for me to grow somewhere else; if I stayed I would have been settling and the one person who would have made that worthwhile was pushing the hardest for me to go. What we couldn’t have known is what would happen when I arrived in Paris. My expectation was that it was simply a chance to live someplace fabulous for a few years before returning to the US and if Chris and I kept our relationship alive we could make a go of it.

But Paris has become my home and I have no desire to go back. Rather than a job, I have Kim & Co with all the investment and responsibility that it entails. I want it all, Christine, Paris, K&Co and I’m willing to make whatever adjustments that would make sense for her and me. Even if, that meant giving up the rest for her, but she would need to give herself up to us.

When she was here last summer, I saw an article on marriage equality passing in New Hampshire and quipped that after her graduation we should slip up there for a different type of ceremony. A look of panic flashed across her face before she composed herself and made a non committal remark. I told her that not yet and maybe not in the spring, but a time would come when I needed for us to bind our relationship. The other day I told her that this time is still coming, but we needed to take steps toward assuming those bonds.



Anonymous Anonymous said...

*big warm hug* --eb.

9:17 PM  
Anonymous VJ said...

Fondly we hope. Deeply we desire. Seldom, oh so seldom do all the pieces fall together neatly for us.

I see the beach, the sand, the shells. Beautiful constructs. But perhaps only tabby to work with too.

I'm glad you & C are talking again. I hope she eventually comes around. I suspect that she's still ambivalent or a bit confused on the entire prospect. But mountains may be moving. Again. Cheers & Good Luck! 'VJ'

4:13 AM  
Blogger Gillette said...

I echo, VJ...yes...cheers and good luck.

Ah, the twists and turns. Man...buttons are so tender. I so wish both of you the best.

5:45 AM  
Blogger Robert said...

I've looked at vaginas. I find them beautiful. And, yes, I know the difference between a vulva and a vagina. A vagina feels nice when it squeezes a tongue.

1:24 AM  

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