Sex On The Table

"Let's break it down and talk about the lala..."
- Oceana, Lala

On Wednesday night, as I was drowsily snuggled into Wrecking Ball's arms, he brought up the topic of sex. I found myself very awake, very fast. Holy tits. My head is pounding I can't stop this pounding it feels like it's going to explode... (Kimya Dawson, Underground). I felt my throat close in that horribly inconvenient way that it does when it's time to talk about something Big. He told me he was nervous and outlined the reasons why. So then it was my turn to speak. Speak. Speak! I couldn't. Breathing was hard enough. Holy tits. My head is pounding I can't stop this pounding... I needed to remain calm and have a conversation like an adult. Breathe. Breathe. Breathe. Do you know what you want to say? What will you tell him, Horchata? You know exactly what your apprehensions are about sex, in fact just last night you typed up that blog post listing all the reasons why you're nervous to --

The list. I could show him the list! What a terrifying thought though. That would mean giving him permanent permission to access this blog - because I'm not going to say, "OK, here it is, you know exactly where it is, now never ever look at it again, even though I mention you all the time." That would be stupid, and kind of mean.

But then I realised, I don't want to feel like I am hiding anything. (Am I hiding anything? What if he doesn't like the way I make guys buy me drinks? I told him about Gaga, but what if, what if, what if...? And the way I talk about love! I have said I love him here. But I don't think I am IN love with him. Am I? I haven't said that to him yet. He could get the wrong impression. But... it is still the way I see things.) So I decided to take a deep breath and do it. I brought him to the Nymphophobia entry and let him read it. We talked about the things listed there and it was easier to keep breathing, keep going, once he had already read the entry. Admittedly, I would not have told him about the orgasm faking problem, because I wouldn't want him to worry about me faking them with him, especially after Acadia's reaction when I first admitted to it... But it was there, so it was there, and he knows.

When we were done talking, he said he wasn't sure the conversation had really accomplished anything. I said that I felt we had just put a lot of stuff on the table and now we were staring at it. But it had felt good to talk about it. You're supposed to talk about sex before it happens. I've heard it said, if you can't talk about it, you shouldn't be doing it. Well, that was the first time I've ever talked about doing it like this. It was nice, even if it did produce a massive internal anxiety attack. Even thinking about the conversation, my stomach feels tight... or maybe that's just because I'm being too stingy to buy myself lunch.

Last night, after the concert and before I went over to Love's for the night, we went to his place for a bit. I told Love I would be over at 1 - I think she was upset with me, and I still feel bad, though she was acting normal when I got there - so we had about an hour, which we spent making out fantastically. He said he had been thinking about it, and asked if I was interested in being brave - he was asking! Sex! Holy TITS! This time, my panic was entirely different. Because you see, I am on the rag. But I'm not ready to admit to him that I have a menstrual cycle. I just can't. I'm not ready to admit to having bodily functions! So to allow one of them to interfere with The Sex! What do I say?!

Then I realised - we have less than an hour at this point. Easy way out: "I think... we should wait until a night that we have more time." Problem solved! And besides that, a really good point. Haha.

If you are wondering why I would mention being on my period in this entry, while saying I don't want to admit to him that I have one, after saying that he has access to this blog - he has told me that he is not going to read it because he feels it would be cheating - gaining so much insight into the way I see things, without learning about the way I see things from talking to me.