Sex.....Or something like It

I had to write a memoir for school. It started out as a book I had once begun but never finished. I had to edited it down length wise but I am posting the full version on here. Feel free to enjoy(and thanks to everyone who helped me get through tonight with some semblance of sanity)

Abstract

A lot of people haven’t come to terms with their overt sexuality. I have not only come to terms with it, I have explored it, studied it and most of all enjoyed it. I have been straight, bi-sexual and gay. I have kissed boys, girls and the androgyny in between. I was just a hopeless romantic in a search for acceptance and love in a world of crazy.  The past fifteen years have been quite a rollercoaster in trying to find out who I am. I longed to see myself not only as a person, but as a sexual creature the belonged in this world. I haven’t quite come across a title that fits me just yet. But the ride has been a fun one. Here is a glimpse into what I look back on fondly as, my glory days.

            Keywords: Love, Lust, Sexuality, Romanticism, Pride

Sex…Or Something like It

I have never liked penises….Something always struck me as odd about them. Dangling bits hung off of a perfectly sculpted male. It was just a means to seal the deal. But they were never that important to me. In fact to an extent I want to say I was scared of the notion of the penis. The mere thought of having one penetrate me, brought me to tears. Not because I would have something skewering my body, but the mere principle behind the fact. Anything with a penis has the ability to penetrate you in the fullest and most complete form possible. They are not just turning you into a shish-ka-bob in a moment of ecstasy; they are piercing your heart, your soul and your intellect. Now don’t get me wrong, I realize I may be one of the few still with the belief that there has to be some sort of connection in order to have sex with someone. I am one that until recently never had the experience of emotionless sex, and trust me it wasn’t that good. However, I have never had a problem with giving a blow-job; in fact I have had more bj partners than I have had sexual partners. There is something about the control over their spirit. You have everything they bargain their lives for and within your mouth, for you to do with what you please. In fact the first time I took that control was on a whim. My boyfriend at the time…Nimrod…was freaking out. It was my first experience with any kind of depression, especially one with a bi-polar twist. He was fine one minute, then trying to slit his wrists in the next. After a wrestling match in which his hunting knife was thrown out the window, I flipped him and decided in that second that the only way I was going to calm him down was to take what he had left of his manhood into my own control. So I did….and trust me he calmed down.  Granted there wasn’t a time in the relationship after that when I wasn’t on my knees once a day. The point I am trying to make is, in that moment I felt like I had more control over the outcome of the worldly ways than I had ever had before. Although I have pretty much gotten over my fear of the penis, since control is all in the form of a warm mouth. I still don’t really like them.

There are far too many people, in this day and age, who don’t enjoy kissing. Now that isn’t to say, that no one enjoys kissing, just far too many that don’t give kissing as much credit as it deserves. There is nothing better than a kiss, nice soft lips dancing with your own, just enough tongue and once it starts to heat up, you get those butterflies in your stomach and your hands start to move and it becomes the hottest make-out session that you have had since your first one in high-school. A kiss is touching someone in the most chastely sexual ways possible. Now granted there are people that do not know how to kiss….like the first guy I ever kissed. We were on the playground. And it was four of us, two girls and two guys. Unfortunately the one I wanted to kiss was busy exchanging DNA with the other of the female persuasion. That left Chas….Chas was adorable, taller than me, with an insanely fake Australian accent and for some reason orange hair….not red orange…just orange. He smelled good and it was my first kiss, so I thought what the hell let’s do this. What a mistake. My mouth was bruised and sore from the fact that my esophagus was explored with a massive protruding slimy tongue that would not let me breathe. Somehow his gum ended up in my mouth. Talk about the worst kiss EVER.  Trust me there have been ones that rank just as badly.  I mean come on now, a twenty -something guy should know that the tongue stays in the mouth unless it is beckoned out. Regardless, kissing is still one of the things I enjoy the most. I had the best make-out partner once, and by partner I do mean we fooled around but those times we were together, still get me all riled up. I met Tommy through a group of friends, and we talked once in a while. We finally got the chance to hang out and spent a good two hours making out on my girlfriend’s bed while she slept beside us. To this day, no one compares to the way that Tommy could kiss. I honestly think the mark of someone who knows what they are doing is someone who can give you an orgasm by kissing you. I wonder what Tommy is up to nowadays; all I know is that the girl that has him is incredibly lucky.

I am a romantic; one might say a hopeless one at that. I dream of the moment where a white horse will ride up to me with a carriage to take me away to a land full of Prince Charming and flowers. In reality I know that, this could never happen because the only prince charming’s in the world are gay. Now don’t get me wrong, there are such things as nice guys in this world; but low and behold they are no Prince Charming’s. They take you out and hold your chair for you. They pick up the check and bring you flowers. Then within two weeks of moving in with them, there they are in their boxers and unsightly dirty white tube socks watching the game and asking you to bring them a beer. Besides, the nice ones are so boring. Sure they may not turn into a pig when you end up moving in with them, but they aren’t dominant in bed. They let you have all the control until honestly you are the one reaching for the remote while they diddle away under the covers and you make some noises just because you don’t want to make them feel bad. Then there are the bad boys…those cocky assholes that everyone wants. They know they are attractive, intelligent and good in bed and that is the reason you like them. Because when you go out with them, you know everyone is jealous. You imagine them in tight jeans and a leather jacket, out of some sort of James Dean fantasy and you are instantly fulfilled. Unfortunately in the end there is no romance, no flowers, no conversation and no honesty. So where is the happy medium between the two?  The nice, sweet, polite, bad boy who makes you drools with lust AND keep those butterflies in your stomach. Where are the prince charming’s?  I know where they are….they are the ones sitting across from you listening to you bitch about those nice guys; and the ones wiping your tears when the bad ones hurt you. Every girl has dated them once in high school….where they called themselves actors, artists and poets…..Now in the 21st century, when all is accepted, they call themselves homosexuals.

I am not a fruit fly; a fruit fly is one of those girls at the clubs that buzz around their gay boys trying to make them love her. A fag hag is a girl they just love without reason. I have never wanted to be anything more than whom I was, and until I found George I didn’t know I could have that. Now don’t get me wrong, if it came down to it and he was straight, he would be one of the first boys I had gone after but it isn’t like that. Most people get the whole gay boy/bi girl relationship all wrong, and I know why. In fact I see a shining example of it almost every day. It is those girls that dote so much on their gay boys because they need the constant in their life. Having the affection of a lover without the strings, the need to live with someone, the lack of self-esteem to go and do anything but fuck someone. It is a relationship you don’t have to build and fix. The boys who are involved cling to the girl because if they do, then they don’t have to admit they hate themselves for being outside the “norm”. Nobody can judge you if they don’t know you are a freak. The truth about the gay/straight relationship is an enigma in itself. George and I clicked when we first met, it just worked. We have gotten the comments and the ridicule at points but it isn’t like that. I don’t have to pretend, and the fact that there is no underlying sexual tension makes me not have to fake an interest that isn’t there. He is the one that gabs with me late at night, brushes the tears away and picks up the pieces. He is also the one who laughs at me, gets wildly drunk and posted about on the net with me and who has never been anyone but himself. Every girl should have a gay boy and they should cherish them for everything that they are. Because you will never find a better person to love and cherish than a best friend who just gets it.

My closest friends tell me that I’m safe. No I don’t mean like I’m running from something; or that I have stolen a base….I mean my personality is safe. I am not judgmental and not accusatory, which is apparently the reason I get hit on by a lot of straight girls. Now I have been with many a first timer, when it comes to the female persuasion, and I enjoy every minute of it. The lust, the experimentation and to be honest sex is just different when it is between two women. I was told last night that I am safe, because I am nice. That is one of my flaws. I’m safe so they can have control and try everything out; then run home like nothing happened. They know I won’t come after them because it isn’t my place to do so. Is it really a good thing to be safe? I mean I know inside each and every one of us there is this vixen waiting to get out. Is it because I look young, or because I am just too nice for my own good? Safe is a word you want to hear to feel protected, it is not a word you want to hear all the time in bed. Which leads to the question, do men think I am safe as well?

Bi-sexuality in this day and age is something that is chic. It is “in” to love both sexes and to experiment with everyone. Now the fact of the matter is that I honestly believe you can love whom you want; regardless of age, sex, and so forth. I do NOT believe in those who are self-loathing. Honestly what is the point of bashing someone’s sexuality just because you do not approve of it? Is it because you are too scared that the half-naked girl in the gym who brushed against you got you a little wet, or is it because when you saw those two boys kissing in a bar you found that your little friend took more attention than you thought he would? Who cares what you want or who you want as long as you appreciate yourself for it? It kills me that there are self-loathers out there. Trust me, I have been around my share of straight, bi-sexual and gay people in my life and there is nothing I can’t stand more than a self-loather. Don’t pretend to be happy and such; then disparage “fags” just because you think it will get you a laugh. Don’t pretend to like someone only to make fun of their sexuality behind their back, even though last night it was you on your knees. It is just a point of being proud and un-closeted…I mean honestly what is the point of being hot and not exercising all the pleasure in the world because your moral standards don’t work with your genetic profile? Trust me honey, there are plenty of us out there behind you.

You get a little something out of every relationship you are in; even if it is just a short one. I am not talking about the gushy emotional stuff, that I am so fond of. I mean something physical, a trophy if you wish that until you lose it, or your new significant other throws it out, you have as a memento of the past. Now I am a big fan of those little tokens of love, especially if they were acquired during a passionate moment or two. My favorite token of affection is the tee shirt. Specifically a tee shirt recently worn by the person you are sleeping with. Their smell embedded into the fabric, the kind of thing you can wrap your pillow in so you can sleep with them while getting through the heart break. I am not being melodramatic, take Caleb for example. Now I met Caleb on a trip down to Princeton to see a girlfriend of mine. Caleb was a friend of hers that I met on these stone steps across from Princeton University. A typical punk boy, red hair that was not natural and could have been spiked in a Mohawk, but wasn’t, converse sneakers, ratty clothes and a gorgeous smile. He was tall, gangly and wonderful, we talked, went behind the stores where I gave him a blow job while he sat on an air conditioning unit…Very romantic eh? Anyway, I was there for a few days, we hung out….no big deal. We continued to talk after I left and about a week later he came to Queens for the weekend. He had a briefcase type bag and one change of clothing. My god he was beautiful, in that poetic young love type of way. I know if I had a third love it would have been him. That night and I was so happy wrapped up in his scent. He had his favorite shirt, an AFI black t-shirt, with “punk is dead” on the back. He loved that shirt and he left it at my house with me and a kiss. I’ve never seen him again, and though the shirt has been washed many a time…his scent still lingers.

Everyone has their awkward sexual moments. I have had my share of them through my exploits. Now I was hoping to lose my virginity in that classic romantic way. Candles, dinner, flowers, music….it had to be perfect, the moment, the mood and the setting. I will never regret how or when I lost my virginity, even though he isn’t in my life anymore, and in the end is the reason I have bad credit, I will never regret whom I lost it to. Let me set the scene for you. I am a junior in high school. I just finished the day and am going to my science fiction club. I walk in and there is someone standing there, black trench coat, black hair, black boots…he turns around and I am dazzled by this amazing smile. He was the most perfect stereotypical Goth boy I had ever met. Jon kissed me that day, soft and sweet on the mouth, and we exchanged numbers. He was visiting from Jersey, and he had met everyone at a convention they had gone to. We talked on the phone all of the time, for almost a year. I had just finished my second month of senior year, my first love had moved away and I got a phone call. It was Jon, we hadn’t spoken all summer and he decided it was high time he came to see me again. He took the bus from Jersey, walked to my house in the rain and kissed me. It was sweet and amazing and wonderful, of course it was, I was a teenager. We dated and in March of that year, with my family out of town Jon met me at my house. I had just gotten a CD signed by Aerosmith and I walked in to soft music playing, candlelight dinner, a bath drawn for two….Sounds perfect eh? We pulled out the couch bed and I told him I was ready…..Five minutes later it was over….He was asleep and all I could think was, that’s it? Everything I hoped for…and that was it? Painful and short….Someone should have let me know ahead of time I was allergic to latex….

So I don’t believe in one night stands. I mean honestly unless there is an instant connection in some way that is other than sexual I don’t really get the point. Now I used to be unjustified in saying this, because I had never had a one night stand, but I decided to quell the interest and see what the whole thing was about. You can’t judge something unless you try it right?  So, as per most one night stands I didn’t really see it coming at first. At a bar, with two of my friends and towards the end of the night this beautiful man was ordering a beer right by us. Now to give you a visual, he was at least six foot tall, and looked like Taye Diggs’ younger brother. You could tell from the way his black t-shirt hugged his body, that he was as solid as a rock. So yes, there was a physical attraction, and he winked at me. This took me by surprise, but we started talking. We hit it off and had so much in common. He had lived in New York for a little while, during college. He was here from Nigeria to make a life as an actor. For some reason he had ended up in that little Podunk bar in Norfolk Virginia. My friends and I went back to his house; they stayed in a room with a bed, a TV and the video cassette of the Jungle Book, while we went into his room. Polite conversation, he stripped…and just as I figured, he was a chiseled dark chocolate version of “David”. He ran around his room, looking for his “Justin” and although it peaked my curiosity I sat there, still fully dressed wondering what the hell he was talking about. He flipped through a bunch of CD cases murmuring off what they held in them “porn, porn, porn, house, porn, house, house” and then triumphantly as a child who just learned how to ride a bike for the first time he exclaimed “Justin Timberlake!!!” That was the crowning point of the night; I may even go as far as to say it was the climax of the night. Sex ensued and I entertained myself by watching the designs on his media player bounce along to the Justin Timberlake CD he had put in his lap top. He finished, asked to keep my panties and I left…unsatisfied and unfulfilled. It makes a great party story yes, but when I crawled into my bed at the end of the night I knew I was founded in my belief that one night stands aren’t that great….especially with a hard-core JT fan.

Do you remember your first internet fling? I know everyone has had one, but how many people do you know that actually remember what it was all about? I was twelve or so and the first version of AOL was starting make ripples in the pond that would become an empire. I was in a chat room with a friend of mine, and we were talking to some guys most of whom were being really annoying. There was one… I shall call Joey who just wouldn’t shut up and then he started writing “Attention, I love Shea, attention” In big letters across the screen. I was excited and enthralled, never had anyone let alone a stranger pay me so much attention. The weekend ended, I went back home where I didn’t have computer, but never forgot about that boy. Well a year later, I get with the times and randomly remember the screen name. He was still around!!! He was states and states away but we talked a little bit online, only to have him disappear soon after. This went on for years, until when I was 16 I got an email saying that his family was moving to NY. He sent me an actual letter with a picture and told me he would be in touch. A few months later, in the summer I finally heard back from him. Joey told me he had moved with his parents to Long Island and wanted to meet me. With a wing and a prayer and some money borrowed from my friends, I ditched summer school and hopped on the LIRR, to Long Island. My first train trip by myself, meeting a boy I didn’t know at all, I have to chalk it up to teenage frivolousness. Well, Joey met me at the train station and we spent the afternoon cuddling and talking. It was wonderful, and bonus points for the fact he wasn’t a serial killer. As the sun started to set, he dropped me at the train and kissed me goodbye. It was sweet and sad and had emotion behind it I had never felt before. I cried on the way home, but looked forward to seeing him again. I got an email from him that night, he told me he was running away, that he hated NY and only stuck around long enough to meet me. I never heard from him again…I thought I found him once, I was in the other room and the TV was blaring….I heard a voice that sounded like Joey, but I was disappointed…It was only Snake, on the Simpsons.

I guess I have had my most interesting relationships with the guys I have met online. There was Mark, a little raver-boy that was to e-tarded to even make a first move. There was Colin, who looked like a strange version of Jerry Seinfeld and David Schwimmer, nice guy…..way too clingy. There was Kevin, my little 18 year old emo actor who tried to have sex with me before we even kissed….while I was sleeping, but at least he looked good in a leather jacket. Then we have the most tumultuous of internet relationships, and the one I still have yet to be fully done with, Trip. We met online because his profile stalked mine, on some random dating site I had just signed up for. We exchanged emails and phone calls for nine months. He was nothing more than an incredible pen-pal and friend. We decided to meet, and from there….well…I got pregnant, we got married and lived in Virginia, where he was stationed. Talk about an amazing and fast relationship, everything seemed perfect. He was one of those all-time good guys. Enough attitude to make you swoon, enough affection to make you melt, but I came to find out, all a façade. Now don’t get me wrong, Trip has taught me many things about life and myself that I would have never learned otherwise. (And) Currently it is one day at a time with us. I think that it will always be, at least for our son’s sake. Mark my words, a note of caution when you find prince charming online. As wonderful a friend as they are, sometimes they should just stay that way. You never know what truly lies beneath the surface unless you experience it firsthand.

On that note, I don’t believe you can fall in love online. In lust yes, in desire ok….in fact I think you can love someone you have met on the internet, but to truly fall in love with someone you have to go about it the old fashioned way. I have expressed my most inner desires to those I have met online, told them things that I have never told anyone else, let them see the real me, all of this without having to meet them. Now I think it is cute when you are online “dating” at least you know you are never going to get bored when you have nothing else to do. Who doesn’t love to see a sweet email when they hop online for the first time each day? Online dating has its benefits, you always have someone to talk to, someone that is far enough away from the situation to give you advice. You always know that someone cares. Unfortunately they don’t know you; you can’t have that chemistry if you have never looked into a person’s eyes. That is how they play you, you don’t know if you are talking to a real person until you can look into their hearts. Not to sound shallow; or actually to sound very shallow physical attraction does play a part in a relationship. You can have the most meaningful conversations and write the most beautiful letter, but when push comes to shove, there needs to be a spark. Take Angel for example; we knew each other in person; he was my best friend, and amazing kisser and one of the sweetest guys in the world. There was no spark, even though we tried to make it happen it didn’t. So some solid advice to those out there, if you are confiding your deepest darkest secrets to someone online, you may be better off confiding in your favorite pet. At least, in the end you will have something real to snuggle with, that loves you back.

Is it true that you only get two great loves in your life? Or even one for that matter? At 25 years old have I wasted both of my chances to have true love on people that may not have deserved them? If it is only two people are those people perfectly compatible for each other, or does everyone always end up in a relationship where they love the other person just a little bit more. I think about that, in every relationship I have been in it has always weighed heavily one sided. Not saying that the other person didn’t have feelings, but it seemed that their feelings never added up to mine. Then it was an endless cycle of guilt and pity and you wondered what you were actually getting out of the relationship. If we only have two loves in our lives then I have filled mine and I will spend the rest of my days alone. Zachary was my first love. I met him through a friend that I had met online, originally it was my plan to hook up with her, but my body had different feelings. We met Zachary and by the end of the night, after my first joint and our first kiss I had fallen. He was quiet and sweet with a disconcerting want to wear my clothes, but it didn’t bother me. My boyfriend was prettier than I but that was ok by me. He told me he loved me on the second night we knew each other, he took care of me and I went in and out of the hospitals and then it was over. He moved, across the country, and in the days pre-9-11 we had a movie moment goodbye at the airport. We talked for a month or two but by that point it was over. We were young and thought that maybe someday it would work out. Well life is a bitch that way and every time we had the chance to see each other, the kisses were still just as sweet and the butterflies were still there but it never worked out, because I was too good a friend to him in the long run. The other love of my life was Trip. He was my pen pal and friend. He became so much more, and now deems to be so much less. Like I said, in every relationship one loves someone that much more, and the most heartbreaking words to hear are….well isn’t my love enough, because it is all I can give you. Sometimes love just ain’t enough as the cliché goes and it leaves you yearning for more. If you have already spent all of your love on two before it was your time, then where is the ATM machine that holds the reserves for your heart? If you only get two shots, then I am fucked.