I feel like I’ve been writing a lot of heavier things lately. I can’t really help it, there are heavy things on my mind. I try, at least a little, to soften the blows, to lighten the weight. But it is what it is.
Tonight I don’t know if what I want to share is heavy or not. I don’t see it as heavy, but I’m not sure that I have a fair scale upon which to place it.
One of my favorite books is erotic literature. That’s not the thrust of it. It’s “The Reunion” by Laura Antinou, which is the fifth book in her Marketplace series, and in my opinion is among the best written erotic novels of the modern age, if not all time. Unsurprisingly, the erotic flavor is of bdsm.
In it, one of the characters, Chandra, says this:
A collar does no more than create a space which only you may fill. And how can you fill it unless you are not missing parts of yourself?
This is one of the things that I have expressed to myself over and over again in various forms. While in this context there are clear overtones of bdsm and submission, the underlying principle is not inherently charged with eroticism of any kind. Put another way she is saying:
No title or role completes you. You must be complete in yourself in order to fill the title you claim.
Essentially, nothing and nobody can make us feel less empty or less complete inside. We can not fill ourselves with nourishment drawn from the explicit trappings of our lives. Completeness is a personal journey, a personal commitment. It is what is implicit to our nature, that which underlies our explicit behavior, that defines us.
And that’s something that I am striving for, yearning for. Completeness. Implicit and Explicit congruence of my self-image.
Many of my friends and relatives are constantly asking me if I’m dating, or if I’ve got a frequent playmate. And while I know that they want to see me happy, I’m not convinced that their idea of happiness is even what I really want. And I know that a partner or partners won’t somehow magically make me happy. A romantic entanglement adds a lot of complexity to anybodies life, and while I’m not against complexity I’m not sure how much more I can handle right now.
More importantly though, I want to find happiness with myself. I want to find a deep and abiding self-love, and I don’t know that a relationship is the way to do that. Add to those doubts the very limited success I’ve had with relationships past and I am honestly just not into it at the moment.
All that said, I’d be lying if I said I want to be single. I don’t. I envision a lot of potential scenarios. Most of the time I’m part of a kinky poly group. I’m not dead-set against having a single boyfriend (or even girlfriend, although I’m not convinced that would ever work), but the whole me & you forever thing just isn’t part of my imagining or envisioning of a perfect world.
And even ignoring the idea of a relationship in the romantic sense. I would love to have someone(s) to share kink with. To experiment and celebrate and explore. There are a lot of things that you can’t do solo no matter how creative and clever you are. I’ve spent a lot of years alone with my body, and it yearns to do a lot of things it’s been denied. I want to feel like I’m stretching the boundaries of my pain/pleasure threshold again. I want to feel my skin and lips and body-heat sliding along the sweat covered skin of another person again.
But the truth is, I don’t want any of these things more than I want to feel happy with myself. More than anything I want to feel like I’m living up to my potential, to my expectations for myself.
I don’t logically believe that these desires are mutually exclusive, but my heart is well and truly convinced that I can’t have good, deep, relationships until I’m in love with myself. Still, I’m slowly trying to open myself to the possibility that I don’t have to be perfect to share myself with other people.
But I don’t spend my evenings pining for romantic or sexual relationships. I don’t feel that I’m incomplete because I don’t have them. Lonely sometimes, but not incomplete.
So what’s my point? I’m not sure I have one. Maybe the point is that I’m full of contradictions, but I already knew that.
Maybe the point is that the emperor wasn’t any less of an emperor because he wasn’t wearing any clothes. He brought to his garments nothing but who and what he was, regardless of whether those raiment’s were material or immaterial.
Oh also, now I’m horny.