I’m still in bed. I’m stubbornly refusing to get out of bed.
I have been told that I need to start writing again, so here I am, propped up
by many pillows, naked and cosy under the covers.
I’m just finishing up my first year of university, and going
to school kills the writer in me. When I went to college in ’05, it took a
number of years to get my writing back. I felt like I’d lost a friend.
I’m being encouraged to start writing again. I don’t
know how I feel about it. I’m worried the quality will be low. I don’t
feel the passion in me or the need to
write like I did before. It’s unfortunate because it seems since I’ve
started up again things have been a lot more comical, horrible, or simply
interesting than they were before.
I haven’t been working too much though. School cuts into my
availability, and I haven’t been feeling well this week, and prior to that I
was away for a week. My money situation is not awesome.
I have fallen in love. Fallen in love with a man who
lives in a different country. His name is Owen. There are so many obstacles
between us being together, but my job is not one of them. He is so supportive
of what I do it’s amazing. He is completely sex positive. He doesn’t see why
there should be shame or hang ups around sex, and that it should be seen as
what it is: a beautiful thing that brings pleasure.
He is good friends with several people who work in the sex
industry as sex surrogates, and sex therapists. He really feels that that is
the direction I should take with my work. I feel uneasy about this. I am not
qualified for that, and although there is training available to me, I feel like
I do not want to be in the sex for money industry any longer than I have to be.
He wants to become an escort, and has this idea that people
would pay the two of us to watch us make love. Apparently some of his friends
are doing that in Hawaii and are making a killing. I don’t want to commodify
our relationship. That’s where I am with that. Things are new between us, and my
views could change. They often do. I’m not comfortable with him being an
escort. I know that makes me the biggest hypocrite in the world, and I’ll admit
that, but it’s just the way I feel. It’s not the having sex with other women
thing. I’m ok with that. We are polyamourus, and when I hear that he’s been
with another woman, I’m only jealous because I’m not there to be able to have
sex with him. I wish it were me. I don’t want him to become an escort, because
I don’t want him to become jaded like I have. I can’t fully blame my job, maybe
the fact that I’m almost thirty has something to do with it, but the ways I
view sex has completely changed for me. Example: After a night of drinking, I
met this girl and her two guy friends at a taco stand. They worked at a hotel,
and we ended up stealing a room for a hotel party. There were only four of us
with no booze, or good music. It was boring so I left. A week later a friend
pointed out to me that we could have had a foursome. The thought didn’t even occur to me! To which I say,
“What the Fuck, Realme?!” Whether or not I wanted to have a foursome is not the
point at all. The point is it didn’t even pop into my head. Even though when I
left with one of the guys, it was very clear that the other two were going to
get their sex on. Point being: A year and a half ago, that would have been the
first thing on my mind. The only thing on my mind and I would have been DTF! I
don’t view sex in the same way any more. I don’t want to just hook up. I don’t
want to be used by someone for their own pleasure, and my pleasure comes from
intimacy now, not from the actual act of sex. When Owen and I were together the
first time, the thought flashed through my mind, “This is what good sex feels
like,” over and over again. It’s been so long that the physical connected with
the emotional and mental and tied everything together. It was so beautiful.
When I’m with him I have such a need for eye contact. He doesn’t know this. I
need to be looking at him, and I need him to be looking at me. I need that
connection of intimacy. I need to know that he is there for me and not just
using me to fuck. And I know in my heart that he is. I know that he loves me, but
when we are together, I just need that reassurance.
Owen is such an amazing person who is so open and giving and
loving, I don’t want him to lose any of that, and I’m worried that if he goes
into this industry, it will slip away without him realising. I’m worried that
he’ll fall in love with the easy money like I have. I know his emotional
intellegnce is way beyond mine, and he has proper support to help him with
anything he is concerned about, but still I worry.
But right now, I’m in school, and I need to finish. I would
love to get my work visa and run away to be with him but I need to get that
stupid piece of paper that confirms I’m able to take in information and
regurgitate it to please my professors. I’m not overly impressed with the
amount I’ve learned, but you get out
what you put in, don’t you. My fear is that if I quit and become an ex-pat, ten years down the line
I’ll resent him for it. I need school to open my mind and teach me things I had
no idea I had no idea about. I need to learn to think critically. I don’t care
about the b.s. religious studies class or learning about weather patterns but
getting through these stupid classes are teaching me more about myself than the
topics at hand.
:-)
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