Rejection

Has it really been a month since I’ve last written on this blog?

I’ve been finding it really difficult to write, lately, as I suppose my absence here would suggest. I’ve been tired and stressed and exhausted all the time, worn very thin by what seems to be just “normal life” for everyone else around me. I find myself daydreaming of escape more often than is probably healthy for me. I’ve been cutting myself off from people and activities I used to enjoy, simply because it seems like too much effort to maintain the relationships or to spend my non-work hours doing anything but curling up under a blanket. Old sources of guilt and depression have been resurfacing out of nowhere. In short: the last few months have been sort of crappy.

We had a second meeting of “Anarkink,” as we’re now calling the Anarchist BDSM group, and it was great, and we had some interesting conversations, and I left feeling confused and sad, because like everything else, it now seems too difficult, too stressful, to really throw myself in and to get the most out of this group.

…but enough of that. Let me try to assemble something like a decent blog post, here.

One piece of the repressed-sexuality baggage I’m still struggling to discard has to do with rejection. In my head, if I try to initiate sex and am turned away, this is because my sexuality is bad and repulsive and I’m a horrible slut — not because my partner is tired, sick, or stressed out, which would be a more reasonable way of looking at the situation (i.e. based in fact). When I let my desire show, and he doesn’t reciprocate — when he gently tells me that he’s just not feeling it right now — my stomach turns inside-out, and it just starts a vicious circle of us making each other feel worse and worse.

The other night, that started to happen. We ended up in bed together, both of us feeling terrible. I tried to explain how it made me feel ashamed to want sex when he didn’t, and how I just didn’t know what to do in these situations, when my body was burning and he just wanted to go to sleep. Earlier that week I actually hadn’t been able to get to sleep because of it, and had ended up going to sleep in the other room instead. This time, I let him know that I was turned on enough that I wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep without coming first.

And then we had a long conversation about what he could and couldn’t do in such situations, to what extent he was willing to help me get what I needed. I could masturbate, he said, and I could do it with him in the room. But I felt too uncomfortable to do that if he was simply passively sitting next to me, or worse, turned away from me. It felt deeply shameful, no matter what he said to dissuade me from those feelings. I realized that earlier, when he’d admitted that he wasn’t feeling interested in sex that evening, I probably would have been fine if he’d done it in a more direct way, telling me that we would not be having sex — but also telling me that I would be able to come if I wanted to, if I waited and didn’t put any more pressure on him.

I also realized that his discomfort at those situations in which I start to get pushy, when it becomes really obvious that I want to play or fuck, wasn’t due to my desire but to my expectations. Expectations put pressure on him = immediate turn off.

So here’s sort of the ideal situation I’ve worked out in my head:

Me: [Passionately kisses him/kneels/puts my hands behind my back/etc.]
Him: Just so you know, we’re not going to be playing or having sex tonight.
Me: Oh. Okay.
Him: If you wait until we go to bed, I’ll allow you to come then. [OR: I want you to go into your room and have two orgasms. Come straight back here when you’re done.]

By the time we were done discussing all of this, naturally, we were both really turned on and ended up having an awesome time…

1 comment so far

  1. Helen on

    I think this is brilliant, really, and a testament to your respective skills at thinking your way through to a healthy relationship. It’s a simple fact that partners won’t always feel like having sex at the same time, but it can be very tricky to negotiate because it feels like such a personal rejection around something so tender and vulnerable.

    I certainly know how you feel when it comes to feeling stressed and overextended. I’m not sure I have great advice about it except to say that it will pass. For me, as I have gotten smarter about trusting my instincts in all areas of life I find that I’m much less likely to end up overextended, because I go with my gut and say no to things that just “seem wrong” even though I can’t articulate why. So I get less caught up in projects, work, and other things that end up being a real mess to clean up.


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