I have struggled with the idea of monogamy for a very long time.
My nature is, ironically, quite private, and rather simplistic… I prefer my own company, a thick book & strong coffee to lunchtime ‘Cocktail & Tells’ with ladies-in-waiting… however, just try to drag me away from a conversation on Mesopotamia or Physics with an educated mind… I won’t pull my claws out an inch.
The idea of becoming so enamored with someone that you need them in your life is simultaneously sweet & weak in equal measure.
In my experience, relationships always shift and settle into routine, pattern, predictability, & rigidity. There becomes less chance or space for unpredictability, spontaneity, or excitement. ‘You always surprise me!’
quickly turns into ‘What the fuck were you thinking?’ once routines are established.
I have never fucked for pleasure.
The opportunity has never presented itself. I have never fucked for myself.
When I open my body for men to enter, I tuck away my own desires and focus on his. I do not tell men to kneel, to suck, to lick and twist and caress and push with finger, tongue & lip, like solid earth, quaking my body’s ocean storms into submission…often I say nothing at all.
I gather them into me, doing and saying everything they need to let go, to feel safe, to feel renewed.
I provide them with comfort.
They provide me with cages.
I don’t blame them…if I found a toy to take away the pain of being human, I would probably cling to it as well…but it’s so unfortunate when I forget myself in order to assuage them…unfortunate when they fall in love with a mask and I forget to take it off, allowing it to fuse to my face.
It could be argued that One can still be monogamous while also being wild, passionate & thirsty for life in all it’s experience…perhaps so, but it would mean a pairing of two humans, perfectly balanced within themselves, with no reservations in allowing the other to explore all of life’s tastes…and it’s not often you find that delicate recipe.