Category Archives: MATURE CONTENT

Sexual musings – MATURE CONTENT

Fucking.  If you can’t make it past this word, then this article might not be for you.  Because what I’m pondering here is something that goes beyond a mere profane word, and might go a little deeper or be a little more graphic or “other” than what some will feel comfortable with.  So “fucking”, is essentially like being tossed into a chilly swimming pool to shock the system, rather than being given the opportunity to ease into it slowly.  So if you’re still reading, you might be shaking a little, but I’m assuming your mind is open and you might not get lost before the end.  If not, adequate warning has now been given.  Alright, here goes…

What is sex?  When most of us think of it, we’re thinking of the physical contact between genitalia.  And by definition, that’s technically what sexual contact is…the joining, stimulation, or manipulation of sexual organs.  And for the purposes of keeping this from becoming a full dissertation, I won’t delve into what constitutes a sexual organ (but anyone who’s successfully survived puberty should know that sexual stimulation goes far beyond the penis, breasts, and clitoris/vagina…more on that at another time).

One thing I’ve wondered is why is sex such a triggered response to so many emotions and scenarios?  It’s almost like eating…and in some cases, it IS eating (and this is usually quite welcomed).  Sad?  Have sex; it’s a great picker-upper (MUCH better than any paper towel, for sure…and hopefully not so “quick”).  Happy?  Celebrate it with sex (nothing says “I love you” like a great session of head/face, hair-pulling, back-scratching, and ass smacking…sounds more violent than it really is).  Pensive?  Sex can help clear the mind and release those endorphins, so the thoughts come more clearly (no pun intended; eh…okay, maybe a little).

I recently had a very stimulating and provocative conversation with a friend, and at the end of that conversation I was primed and ready for some pretty intense sexual activity…and the conversation was as NON-SEXUAL as it could get.  This shocked the hell outta me.  Because I was wondering why the hell that conversation had me so “open”.  I had been stimulated in every way EXCEPT sexually, and felt so “full” and vibrant, yet grounded and at peace, that I literally wanted to be filled with more of that.  Not that friend, but that which matched me.  In that moment, my reality was missing nothing, I felt whole and awake, and my senses were alert.  A “booty call” wouldn’t have done the job.  It was as if the infinity of my soul had opened and I wanted to drink in (figuratively and literally) and connect with more of my own infinity…and no, masturbating wasn’t the answer either.  Nah…right then, I wanted to connect with my own infinite match.  It wasn’t a “longing” so much as it was a readiness to receive, and a desire to pour out more of myself…so I’m writing.

And this experience brings me to the topic of casual sex.  I was raised to believe that it was wrong…period.  No explanation given, other than it went against God, defiled my body and created “soul ties” – whatever that meant.  My comprehension of those concepts was far below what was needed to make sense of any of it.  But now I get it.  And my understanding is expanded…probably to the point of heresy of the original context, but that’s not my concern or problem.  So let me break down my understanding for you…

  • Going against God means going against myself…because I AM God.  Aw shit…did I lose you?  I’m not the “concept” of God that is prayed to, worshipped, or glorified…I AM the same energy that whatever God-concept you subscribe to is.  Think about it…if that energy is infinite, how can I (or you) be anything other than the same?  Infinity cannot be separated. Just sit with that for a bit…you won’t go to hell for it.  Casual sex does not honor that which I am, because by the very general understanding of casual sex (non-committal and non-obligatory sexual relations) it cannot.  It’s like going to the bathroom…you don’t have to have a relationship with the toilet in order to release into it; just “handle business” and be done with it.
  • Having casual sex doesn’t defile my body any more than the other shit we do that doesn’t encourage optimal health, such as drinking alcohol, eating fatty foods, being around people with toxic attitudes, or speeding.  But I’m not going around rebuking a bag of chips nor feeling the need for an altar call after driving 9 miles over the speed limit (they ticket at 10+ mph over…ain’t nobody got time for that).  But since all that I “am” is currently utilizing this body, these are things that could jeopardize how long I get to experience this side of eternity if practiced frivolously.
  • Lastly, sex is not the only activity that creates ties to people we don’t necessarily want or need to be connected to.  So banning sex on the principle of being “unequally yoked” is like denying a road trip, or forbidding the lending or borrowing of money…which probably SHOULD be forbidden, but I digress…  Sex in a casual sense can create an illusion of oneness and implies obligation to the other person (I mean really…it’s not a simple handshake).  So it stands to reason that I would be prudent about who I invite into my intimate space and bind myself to.  Because even if I KNOW that things are supposed to be casual, if that person gets sick in their body you can bet your last dollar that I’m going to be(come) concerned and want to know what’s going on…because they were once a part of me, literally.

All that being said, I’m not a fan of casual sex, but it’s not because of a religious directive against it…although there was nothing inherently wrong with the directive.  Except that once I grew into an understanding of my own, I felt like what I was told before was manipulative and fear-inciting.  But hey…whatever gets the job done, right?  Problem is, I still had casual sex and know countless other religious folks who got that same message and still “got it in” on a regular basis…so the “job”?  Yeah…not done.

I don’t care for it because, for ME (others may feel differently), of the lack of perception involved.  I need understanding.  I want to understand and be understood.  To see and be seen.  If there is a significant lack of essential understanding between myself and the other person, I find it difficult to become or remain sexually attracted to them…no matter how physically attractive, smart, charming, etc. a person may be.  If we don’t “get” each other, we probably won’t GET each other…what’s the point?

And when I forego a sexual encounter, it doesn’t mean I’m judging the person…I’m simply acknowledging a dissonance in our understandings.  It’s not that I’m any better than that person, but I’m wanting a certain type of connection.  One that strokes not only my “lady parts”, but perceives the vast fullness of my being.  Along those lines, I’ve had encounters where no sexual gratification was involved, but because of the perception experienced I felt compelled to unite all of myself (genitalia included) to that person.

Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had and enjoyed meaningless sex a number of times.  But these days, not so much.  I can stimulate myself – I’m very good at it, I know what I like, and there’s no performance anxiety.  And yes, there are times when my physical orifices are all but screaming out to be fed in every sense of the word.  But the idea that I would invite someone into my space that I don’t truly perceive and who has no idea of “who” or what I am pretty much keeps me from pursuing it.  [But as “enlightened” as I am, I’m still human…if he finds “that” spot before my coochie shield is securely in place, it’s a wrap.]

And dammit…I STILL went in directions I hadn’t planned on taking in this writing.  But apparently, it wanted out.  There you have it.  Stay tuned; there’s more still to come…

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Strapping In For the Ride

As a writer, I’ve thought about a number of different writing ideas and projects.  The bulk of the ideas are fantastic.  No, I’m not being narcissistic or egotistical…I mean many of the ideas are grounded in various fantasies of experiences I’ve never had.  For example, I’ve wanted to write about the different “holy moments” in life, such as birth (well, I’ve experienced it myself obviously, but haven’t had the opportunity to witness it), death (GLAD to be in the dark on that one on a first-hand basis), “seeing” someone for the first time (not just visibly, but having the experience of being able to embrace their very essence), and so on…  All of these and several others I’ve dreamed about and imagined what it would be like to be in such a moment, but still I’m clueless.  I’ve also had several ideas surrounding the whole phenomenon of falling in love…again, not something I’m sure I’ve experienced.  I’ve had crushes, sexual flings, and been infatuated with the “idea” of people…but the experience of being baptized in the holy warmth of a whole love with someone who’s right there in the baptismal with me is something that has escaped me.  But the one thing I have working for me is my imagination.  

Even with that, I have yet to allow myself to tap into all of the recesses of myself without judgment.  For example, an incredibly dynamic writer that I’ve grown to appreciate is Shonda Rhimes (Grey’s Anatomy, Private Practice, Scandal).  But some of the ideas she comes up with are from places that I’d be afraid to fully venture into.  Although if I did, I believe I’d surprise myself.  I have enough dark places inside me that “Hollywood” would probably welcome me with open arms, but I haven’t quite released the idea of emotional safety (probably another reason why I’ve never been exposed to that baptism I referred to earlier…because being in love is not “safe”.  It’s the riskiest thing we ever do.  But I’ll write about that another time.)  But I know that those “safe” story lines are the corny predictable stories that don’t go anywhere beyond superficial pleasantries.  And the truth of the matter is that I’m not a “safe” thinker.

For as long as I can remember, my imagination has tended to lean in the direction of the worst possible scenario.  Fear and uncertainty were groomed in me by the unexpected experiences of my childhood…more stories that I can’t write about because they’re not just my stories, and would expose things about other people that they haven’t revealed yet.  And I don’t have the energy to change all of those scenarios and facts to protect them…might as well just make up a new story altogether – which is where that vivid (albeit dark) imagination of mine comes in.  It starts in truth, but then spins off into layers of details and complexities that turn it into something completely different than how it started.  I’ve done this in my life a number of times.

The thing that has preserved me through this darkness is an uncommon optimism that things will actually work out in the best possible way.  Not necessarily in a cliche “happily ever after” fashion, but in a peaceful and joyful resolution that leaves all parties whole.  Huhn…guess that is happily ever after.  Whatever the case, the point is it doesn’t end in my dark imagination.  There is always hope.  And hope always prevails.

These two can be kinda maddening at times, but rather than condemn and/or try to “fix” the two ideas, I’m taking them as a gift.  And with that gift, I intend to allow it to work for its best purpose…one that I won’t try to define.  It will define itself, and I’ll work within it.  

So I’m strapping in for the ride…