6:40 a.m. - October 11, 2005
Looking forward to seeing my grandmother, Seattle in autumn, feel the spray on my face during the ferry ride. Not looking forward to making this major presentation, three days of teacher talk on Krashen, McLaughlin, Bialystok, cognitive language functions neatly wrapped into a concise pedagogical norm easily digested and executed in the classroom.
I am preoccupied, have been these past several hours, with the tempting notion of obtaining a salty breakfast item along the lines of processed fake-meat on some sort of dough. I haven't had one of those in years - sudden recall, Stephanie and I had one from McDonalds en route to Stockton for a mini-conference. Let's see... that had to be in 1998 or 1999. Is it helplessly fat-bodied and fat-headed to indulge after five years?
Ah, but I've been indulging too often lately, though in (romance?)(life?)(fun?) a different arena with A3. On the one hand I am utterly confused, on the other bedrock pragmatic and non-plussed, simply enjoying the time we spend together in new activities. No, not those kinds of activities; I mean playing darts at a bar, of ordering 60 dollar bottles of wine at dinner, of walking in a dark park and making out on each bench we cross, of cuddling on the couch while listening to music. In terms of the other kinds of activities, I can't tell you what's up, what's down because I have no clue what I'm doing and the worries are creeping in without my usual action plan to keep them at bay. So many things are new and unknown and when I cannot excel, I avoid, but this thrill of adventure and simple pleasure beckons from ahead and pushes me from behind.
I mean come on, A3 asked to accompany me to church on Sunday. He is a conservative Democrat which is the gray area where we disagree on execution but not on principles and can be civil discussing politics. He thinks I'm sexy and is always touching me despite this ugly body of mine. A3 talks about his thoughts, feelings, fears and listens when I share mine. He is thoughtful and sweet and most importantly, I feel comfortable around him, am not afraid of igniting his temper or uncovering my weaknesses. Oddly, newly, pleasantly, I trust him and it makes a world of difference.
I am confused by the disconnect - 6'4, 200, back-slaps-everyone-at-the-bar, football-playing-Yukon-driving-man's-man - who, emotionally and intimately, wants to be my bottom. I feel immensely silly saying this, but I am in charge, I'm the one picking out the restaurants, he is the one who pleads to see me when I have free time. I have never been in this position before and don't know how to work within these parameters. I am sickened yet ____ (proud? pleased? compensating?) by our sexual interactions, or more accurately by my behavior: I am agressive with him the same way Spec was with me. I get off telling him what to do, how exactly to please me, by his eagerness to do so. It is all so very confusing and I worry about what all this means. But he wants me to top him and I don't know how - each time with Spec, it was him riding me and talking about that was absolutely verboten. The things Spec would do to me before fucking me are not things I want to do to A3, and then there are the practical worries of anal sex. It's too much to think about; I am overwhelmed, but not enough to push him away.
The above would have been edited out, or written in my private journal. But it's me, it's what's going on, so I should not be ashamed, and will try not to be.
Fuck it. I am not that fat or ugly or unwanted enough where a salty breakfast item portends doom other than clogged arteries.
I rather enjoy defying these inhibitions of mine.