Motivations and progress

I complain to my therapist, Deirdre, that Virgil is incompetent. He cannot tie up properly and he cannot beat to my satisfaction. He doesn't care about kink enough to be skillful. Virgil is a very amazing head on a body that he doesn't really live in. Dyspraxic is the word I use in private. It's unkind but therapy sessions are not a place to pull punches about people who aren't there. I think about how much better for me solo-therapy is than joint therapy.

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Weekend away

I swallow my reservations about going away with Virgil but my fears are realised when he has to work for most of the weekend. And when he doesn't have to work, he is preoccupied. Virgil's favourite thing about the weekend: the swank, minimalist hotel I find for us. It has a swimming pool on the roof and the best blackout blind in existence. We sleep cocooned in darkness until late each morning. 'Nine hours!' crows Virgil happily and gets back on his laptop. He keeps remarking on what an excellent choice of hotel it is.

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Off

I sat down to write yesterday and something entirely unexpected came out, quite different from the usual. Sadly it's not suitable for this blog though. Today Virgil and I are packing our bags. We are leaving our windy, rainy city for a weekend somewhere hot. I could tell you that I have experienced something of an internal struggle about it but I won't. Instead I will say only that I am a very fortunate harlot and that I am looking forward to spending a quite unprecedented (for the last month) number of days in the company of my beloved.
Hasta mañana!
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The life & death of plants (trigger warning: other people's poetry)

I germinate the idea of a tattoo:
A vine and leaves uncurl, push out inked tendrils 
across the wing of my shoulder blade,
Quietly sprouting, ripening, fading, 
Extend green shoots of fertility and decay. 
Verdure has a doomed, unfolding richness,
And the first shoots of life are also funeral flowers.

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First date

I have a date with Oliver tonight. I haven't told anyone about it. When Virgil asked what I was doing I said only that I was busy. We have an honesty policy but I don't think a first date needs to be announced in advance of its happening. If it goes well (or very badly), I'll tell him: for now he can speculate.

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Tantric masturbatory explosion or did I just get lucky?

Hey all of you with nine-to-five jobs. It's Monday morning and I've nothing on. There's not a thing I have to do this morning. I have a very little bit of paid work later and time with Virgil and a birthday party to look forward to in the evening. I've checked the flatshare and job sites, written a few emails, looked too long at Facebook and resisted the urge to read a novel. I've also just had the most incredible wank.

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Psychic squatting

I harbour territorial feelings. I no longer live there but almost all of my possessions are still in Virgil's flat. This amounts to a sort of psychic squatting. When I consider how I feel at the prospect of Virgil taking Sarah to bed in it (previously our bed was off limits but ownership has reverted to Virgil and strictly speaking he can do what he likes), I realise I have to start properly extricating myself.

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e[lust] edition 37

Welcome to e[lust] - The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you're looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it'll be here at e[lust]. Want to be included in e[lust] #38? Start with the newly updated rules, come back July 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!
~ Top 3 ~
Coming to Terms with Being Gay - From the time I was seven I was raised Mormon, which meant I wasn’t allowed to have a girlfriend until I was 16 or to have sex until I was married.
What I Want - I want to be humiliated. Call me a slut. Call me a whore. Slap my face. Expose me.
Dinner Party Entertainment - At that moment, J's eyes went wide--he finally realized I was leaving him there, tied to the bed.
~ Featured Post (Picked by Lilly) ~
My Abstinence Only “Sex Education” - The speakers were a married, Christian couple, and the man told us about how he had pledged to stay a virgin until he was married.

~ e[lust] Editress ~
Your Crappy Writing Turns Me Off - Your written words are your clothes, your power, your voice, your facial expressions and that by which we measure intelligence, personality and even attractiveness.
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Thank you, and enjoy!

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Self-sabotage

If you want to ruin the end of a perfectly good date, do this

• notice the time
• think: 'Virgil will not be interested in having sex with me now'
• remember that he has to leave at 8am the next day and that I won't see him this weekend
• feel sad and resentful
• frown and glower
• get noticed doing it
• refuse to explain, but then say: 'I'm just sad that we're not really having sex at the moment'
• et le voila!
  

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My (bi)sexual history

The current ripple of irritation caused by Julie Bindel saying that bisexual women might actually not exist or that if they do they have no politics* brings up a question of nomenclature which I rarely bother with but persists: what am I exactly?

For several years I've dodged the question. If required to define myself (say, for the purposes of a dating site) I say that I am bisexual. There are few labels less specific: bisexual can mean a whole way of being or a sexual activity depending on who you talk to. Maybe this is why I settle for it. The truth is that I hate labels but do not consider myself political enough to call myself queer. Anyway, queer is a label too and mostly a negative one at that. It seems to define itself mostly by what it is not. I know people who I think are basically heterosexual but call themselves queer (yes, this is a form of bisexual one-upmanship and I still do it). There is no easy answer.


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Not being needy

Today I felt so dull and heavy I almost didn't go to work, except that as a freelance I wouldn't have been paid so of course I went. I have a holiday with Virgil to look forward to and save up for but an inner voice was saying: 'Oh come on... please will someone answer just one of my emails. I need you. Please notice me!!'

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Flat hunt

The lack of a view and anything green in the flat Virgil and I have been sharing has always irked me, but returning to the rental market I remember how grubby, ill-kempt and expensive rental accommodation is in this city. In the last two days I have been to see rooms in two flats and one warehouse. Each time I have known within seconds that this is not the place for me. To be honest, I can usually tell before I've made it through the door due to the heavy traffic or the presence of a train track metres away. I make my apologies, sometimes stay for a cup of tea, and leave. There's no point hanging around. I've become used to something a bit nicer these last few years. I hope for something wonderful to manifest and keep checking the flatshare sites.

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I hate Mondays

My head is too full and truly I'm to the point where I cannot think. House-hunting, job-seeking, relationship-fixing, directionless harlot. I am at sea. This morning, having spent the night with Virgil, I wake up and burst into tears. I almost ruin a perfectly good wake-up cuddle but Monday mornings when you haven't got enough work and your whole life needs fixing can be challenging like that. I do, however, have a room in a flat to go to look at this evening and I also managed to send off a job application.

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I am owed a sexual favour but cannot collect

It's more than a month since I met up with old-flame Tim of the not non-exclusive relationship. Once or twice I wondered what happened to him after our meeting, whether he had got up the courage to have that conversation with the friend in need who had accidentally become his girlfriend and flatmate. My own relationship turmoil mostly knocked all thoughts of him out of my head though. So it was a nice surprise when an email from Tim landed in my inbox thanking me for my sound advice and updating me on recent developments in his situation.

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A self-help hard limit

Now, I'm quite heavily into my self-help just at the moment. Of course I am! What else is there to do when you bump up against the realization that nothing's working in your life and the common factor is you? No one else can do this work for me and there is much work to be done. The truth: I'm finding self-help really helpful! Thanks, in particular, go to Neale Donald Walsch.

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Lightning strikes twice in 24 hours

Tantra again! Oh it's me, it's me: Akhilandeshvari, the goddess who is never not broken. She rides on the back of the crocodile of fear and embraces change:

I just found this fantastic piece about how lying broken on your bedroom floor (or a friend's bedroom floor as has been my experience) is actually a position of power. Don't worry, although it was written by a yogini, no actual physical exertion is required to reap the benefit of her words.
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Other people's problems and a talk on tantra

My friend Ava is getting over the effects of Marcus, with whom she had an open relationship for two years. Virgil and I know them pretty well. They recently split up. It was a very drawn-out break-up. We watched it come from far away like a ponderous tsunami. Admittedly Marcus is odd. I don't understand him but I do feel very sorry for him. He is in a bad place and she is moving on.

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I think of kink and (separately) recall that Virgil is not perfect

Oliver the dom would 'love' to meet! He's on holiday for a few days but will contact me on his return. I'm about as pleased as a grouch can be at the prospect of a first date with someone first encountered on a contact site for perverts.

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A day together

I'm happy and sad today in the same way that it is both raining and sunny outside. Perhaps there'll be a rainbow. Yesterday Virgil and I spent the whole day together. We met early for breakfast in an empty cafe. It was cold and pissing rain. A police van beeped hello to two pedestrians wearing Union Jack wellies, plastic hats and raincoats for the Jubilee. We went back to the flat without a plan but just feeling that we needed time to be together, and that's what we did all day and the night too.

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Challenge of the day...

I am impatient to see Virgil tomorrow. First I must endure a soul-withering day and evening at the scandalous rag. I must also overcome paranoid thoughts that he might be seeing Sarah. When we spoke on the phone this morning I didn't ask what his plans were for the day and he didn't tell me. I just wished him rest and recuperation after his marathon work stint this week. He's so tired. It's been all work and no play for Virgil.

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Pining, blogging and an outing

Happy knowing that the day after tomorrow will be a day spent with Virgil, I am pining for him in the way we missed each other between dates at the beginning of our relationship. There are three job descriptions on the desk in front of me and I cannot bear to start work on any of them. Instead I daydream. I'm getting paid to do nothing. I start writing instead.

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