Quote:
Originally Posted by Redlemon
I read your description of her, and that she seems to be the type that you date. However, I don't see anything of you, or what you think about her.
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This is a valid point and a logic beginning. I'll try to keep this as short as possible, otherwise it's going to sound like a Springsteen or Mellencamp song. That said, feel free to clap or hold up lighters.
I'm afraid my romantic tastes draw me to women who are more likely to be experimental. In short, I dig alternative/artist types. Find me a woman with tattoos, a rockabilly wardrobe, and a sketch portfolio and I am a thoroughly distracted man. This type of woman doesn't exist in the small Mayberry-like town that birthed me.
Bi-girl one was a goth sketch wiz who moved to town before our junior year of high school whom I fell for savagely. Rebekah was into industrial music, fishnet shirts, and having a go with girls and guys... providing the guy wasn't me. I wasn't so much trapped in the just-friends zone so much as entombed. By graduation day we had become bitter enemies. I left for college with a raging veiny hate-on for "greedy fence straddling"
bi-sexuals.
Bi-girl two was my college girlfriend Sara, a hippie-pagan photographer and costume designer. She spent a long time trying to convince me that nudity isn't always sexuality. This I could readily agree with, providing that I was the only one seeing her nudity. My own stubbed emotions had closed what had been a relatively open mind, and eventually poisoned the relationship.
Maia is different in both overall personality and the circumstances in which we met. We both had some heavy substance abuse problems and met as roommates in a small house owned by a mutual friend. The only thing keeping me from calling it a crackhouse is that it had functioning electricity and digital cable. I found her to be both sweet and fiercely intelligent; too intelligent to be working a dead end waitress job and snorting her life away. I knew and participated in some of the more trashy details of her life at this point but didn't know the meat and potatoes of it till we moved out, got clean, and found an apartment together. Now I work a white collar office job in financing and she is half done with a degree in computer programming and advance math. It was during our first year in the new apartment together that she told me the whole story in sweaty detail.
Growing up the weird fish in a small pond had given me the feeling that I was "enlightened" enough to accept things like polyamory and twisting sexuality. My pragmatist mind can endorse the idea that she has sexual feelings that, as a man, I cannot fully address. I know that forbidding acknowledgment of these desires will only start a growing black pearl of resentment and contention.
In many ways I am more uncomfortable with myself than her. I thought I hadn't carried away the "not in my backyard" mentality with me, when I left small town Western Pennsylvania. It seems I'm only conservative about sex when it's happening without me.
On an entirely unrelated note: Xerxys- I'm a burned out old writer who will greedily accept your compliment, while I dust off my keyboard.