Every sordid scene, what you said to your pillow, what you dare to dream

I have enough knickers to get me through about 2.5 – 3 weeks without wearing the same pair. I recently came upon the pair I wore on my last night with KJ, remembering how desperately I hoped that he would see them. I’ve never seen a pair like them, so romantically unusual they are. If I had to use just one adjective to describe them, I would say Renaissance. I have not worn them since that wondrous yet disastrous night. They sit in my drawer staring back at me, reminding me of what could have been. I am going out of town again and will wear them while I am free to do what I want. Let’s see what blessings or curses they bring me then.

I once got spectacularly lucky with a pair of knickers that tied together with satin ties on the sides. I wore them that night because I just knew something was going to happen with this lucky fellow. We pretended to sleep for a while, denying each other’s hot bodies right next to each other. I couldn’t take it anymore and bent over to kiss him in the dark. Things progressed from there, and we finally had sex with one another after months of unbearable tension. The best part of the night undoubtedly was when I lay back and presented him with my satin stringed knickers to undo.

I used to have a rather large crush on a card-carrying Communist. We were going to meet each other for the first time, though both of us had partners. However, we flirted outrageously with each other online and we both knew we fancied the pants off of one another. I had a delicious fantasy of seducing him in his kitchen, undoing my dress to reveal that I was wearing hammer and sickle pants and bra. This scenario was nearly impossible to make happen and so it hasn’t, but I wouldn’t say it couldn’t in future.

Said Communist once said to me something about goths making the most raunchy, mind-blowing, breathtaking shags and asked if I agreed. I went through my mental address book of all whom I have slept with and had to embarrassingly admit that I had never slept with a bona fide goth, even though I nearly exclusively hung out with a group of them from ages 17-18. Is one ever too old to seduce a goth?  

I wonder what it means; I just wanna know what it means

My entry from November 16, 2007 has prompted me to write about an issue that is central to my beliefs on relationships and a huge part of why I started this blog. That legendary issue is monogamy. I could write a few theses on the topic of monogamy, and I will address it numerous times on this blog. For now, I want to discuss it in relation to my recent time with KJ.

I went to visit KJ with expectations high as the Rocky Mountains. These days my previously unbeatable optimism is nowhere near what it used to be, but he and I have flirted copiously in the past and have admitted how we adore one another and think the other HOTT. The last time I saw him, in full view of my partner, he even put his arm around me and held me tight as we talked for a long time in a loud club. I was going to be in his city for five days; he away from his other-country-living new girlfriend, and me, many states away from my partner. Freedom? A chance to have tickle fights on my hotel bed?

Every day and night we spent together made my body burn and positively ache with desire for KJ. I touched him constantly, but I wanted our faces to touch, to kiss him deeply, and to seduce him dramatically, taking hours to undress him. I truly believed we would have an unspoken agreement that we did not want to rock each other’s boats (in one sense!) in terms of our “regular” relationships, but that we could enjoy each other’s company intimately. I would accept even just a kiss, I would take anything.

But as all unspoken things tend to be, I never felt like I read him correctly. Anyone who saw us interacting surely must have thought that we were lovers, the way we sat close to one another, the way we looked in each other’s eyes, the way we smiled at each other. I have a picture of me from one of our nights together. The twinkle in my eye! My eyes have not glittered so joyously in years. If he would have just told me what he was feeling, I could have made better sense of what he wanted, did not want, and what our boundaries were. And so I sit here, post-KJ trip, bemused, confused, and bedraggled. My desire untapped, my longing deeper, and my sadness ever growing.

If I could start all over again with my current partner, I would tell him that I cannot remain monogamous for very long. It is difficult to predict. I cannot give you an exact time. Maybe a year or two. But I grow bored. I love falling in love, I love falling in lust. I love when opportunities arise or when I am just the gift to fall in someone’s lap. Being in a strict, black-and-white monogamous relationship flattens all of the incredible possibilities that the big beautiful world offers to us dreamers and wanderers.

If KJ wasn’t willing to take advantage of our delicious time alone together, it just confirms to me how dulling monogamy can be. He nearly pawed me lasciviously just a year ago when he was still single, though I wasn’t. Something changed for him and he feels he must honor his commitment in the way society and most others around expect of couples. I truly believe this model of heterosexist monogamy will leave most, if not all, couples unhappy, unfulfilled, and hopeless at some point.

I don’t want that. I don’t ever want the kind of firecrackers KJ set off inside my body to ever stop.