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27 January 2012

my sexuality

I hadn't thought of it as changing, but maybe - from a certain perspective - it is. Or has changed recently. Or more likely, I have sloughed off the necrotic trappings that gave my sexuality many names to suit my needs. That would be a change apparent to observers, while preserving my view of my sexuality as relatively static.

I haven't really decided on new labels for it, and I'm not convinced that I should. Labels haven't been terribly helpful so far. I would like to describe my attractions, at least for my lover, but I am resistant to the idea of boxing myself up again. What if I find the box I've chosen isn't such a good fit after all? If I change boxes, have I lied about who I am? Why do I have to be cuboidal, anyway? What if I'm not a cube, and I don't fit any box?

1 comment:

  1. The vocabulary is, in a way, your enemy. These are not boxes, they are modalities. BDSM, cuddling, masturbation, homoeroticism, "PAN-bullshit-fucking-sexuality."

    Like weather, sexual modalities, truly, cravings, are nercurial, evanescent, as changeable and contrasting as the weather.

    The desire, keen as it can be sometimes, to do a specific hard nasty thing, can be replaced as quickly by another, or nothing at all, as the post orgasmic stillness, becomes the new pleasure, moments ofter the urgent dynamism of deeply penetrating erotic play.

    There is no box. There never has been. Becuase one wants to fuck a girl's ass on one day and just carress her softly on another does not make one a liar on either of those days.

    Rain comes and is as true in its time as the sunshine that follows it.