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Rabbit Rabbit Rabbit
Aug. 1st, 2023 12:13 pm
Over the past several months, R. has been making inroads with the local gay community. He goes to one or two clubs on a semi-regular basis, got to know a few folks through apps, started hanging out with queer coworkers outside of work. He's made a lot of progress in a short amount of time, and has even introduced me to a few folks! They've mostly been great, and it's been a joy to expand our circle of friends.
I'm really happy that he's been able to learn things about himself and the way he moves through the world by doing this. One thing I've learned is that he's a bit affection-starved; he went to this orgy (not sure that's what it was, but we'll call it that) and said it unlocked a lot for him just to see a bunch of people being physically intimate and enjoying it. Like, making other people happy, hearing that appreciation in real-time. That made me think about our situation and how/why it's different.
Obviously I have a different perspective on sex and intimacy. I grew up under a religion that drilled into me that sex was very bad at a very young age. My mother was disfellowshipped for a time by being physically intimate with her boyfriend after her husband divorced. (Fun fact: I confessed seeing this to an elder in my congregation because I was ashamed of something else, and I think it might have gotten her in trouble.) And obviously, being gay was...not something one should ever admit to. Among Jehovah's Witnesses, one of the recommended ways of dealing with it was being a "monk", essentially, moving to the headquarters of the organization in New York to be a special pioneer. Basically, a super-evangelical.
I knew I was gay when I was very young. I've only ever liked boys, and my first impression of feminine sexuality was confusion and anxiety. I'm all too aware of how threatened women feel by men who are interested in them, and I never EVER wanted to make a woman feel like that. At the same time, I just don't think I'd enjoy having sex with a woman. I could be wrong -- I've never done it.
But growing up gay as one of Jehovah's Witnesses has seriously messed me up around sex. I have a deep-seated association between arousal and shame, so anything that gets me off is something I'm inherently ashamed of. I don't like to talk about masturbation, or the people or things I find hot, or the situations that I dream up when I'm horny. I was able to push past this before because my libido was high enough for me to forget all of that...at least, online. In person, I just cannot get out of my own head enough to concentrate on pleasure. The whole time, I'm thinking about how I smell, or whether or not I'm doing something right, or trying to set aside the guilt I feel about my own pleasure. This problem has only intensified over time. My Prozac prescription is at 80 mg, which makes my libido really low, and my anxiety overrides most of the enjoyment I get out of intimacy.
That sucks. It really does. I want to be touched. I like being rubbed and scratched and kneaded. I, too, am somewhat affection-starved. But it's hard for me to initiate intimacy because I'm always afraid of the point where it goes further than I want it to. I can't just be like "Let's cuddle but no sex," or "I'd really like a massage but that's it." It makes me feel like I'm using someone for my own edification while they get nothing out of it.
On the other hand, I'm not sure I'd actually like participating in sex without focusing on myself. Again, performance anxiety, but also just...I have no idea where boundaries are for most people and I really don't want to step past them. I've never been dying to get someone off, really, even though I do want to make the people I care about feel good, share an experience with them that brings us closer together. Sex feels like a trap to me; my experiences have formed this prison in my head that I can't escape around it.
I *do* touch R. a lot, and I've tried to be more affectionate and physically present with him over the past several weeks. The touch isn't reciprocated often, and I'll take some of the blame for that as well. R. likes biting, scratching, pinching a lot -- he expresses affection that's often tinged with pain and that's...really not my jam. So I get annoyed or upset, and it makes him less-inclined to touch me because he's getting negative feedback.
The problem is that I can't seem to convince him that I want to be touched, but in a different way. I don't think he understands that I'm a pretty sensitive person and pain takes me right out of any desire to be intimate. I want to be close to him, but I don't want to be bitten or licked or scratched. I like rubbing, kneading, stroking, soft touches. And I don't think I can ask for that in a way that will be honored -- or at least, I haven't been able to ask for it that way so far. There's nothing wrong with his inclination, and I don't want to change him completely or tell him that it's wrong. But it doesn't line up with my needs.
So I feel stuck. I'm too self-conscious about my body to hang out with him in these gay spaces -- he's in amazing shape and can pull off really hot looks, while I'm still very much in my print t-shirt and ill-fitting pants phase. I'm an introvert who isn't comfortable in large, loud crowds. I don't think I'd fit in with the SF Gay Scene. And my nature and experience makes it difficult for me to be physical with others -- even my own husband.
There has to be some way to navigate through this briar patch. Hell if I know how, though.
I'm really happy that he's been able to learn things about himself and the way he moves through the world by doing this. One thing I've learned is that he's a bit affection-starved; he went to this orgy (not sure that's what it was, but we'll call it that) and said it unlocked a lot for him just to see a bunch of people being physically intimate and enjoying it. Like, making other people happy, hearing that appreciation in real-time. That made me think about our situation and how/why it's different.
Obviously I have a different perspective on sex and intimacy. I grew up under a religion that drilled into me that sex was very bad at a very young age. My mother was disfellowshipped for a time by being physically intimate with her boyfriend after her husband divorced. (Fun fact: I confessed seeing this to an elder in my congregation because I was ashamed of something else, and I think it might have gotten her in trouble.) And obviously, being gay was...not something one should ever admit to. Among Jehovah's Witnesses, one of the recommended ways of dealing with it was being a "monk", essentially, moving to the headquarters of the organization in New York to be a special pioneer. Basically, a super-evangelical.
I knew I was gay when I was very young. I've only ever liked boys, and my first impression of feminine sexuality was confusion and anxiety. I'm all too aware of how threatened women feel by men who are interested in them, and I never EVER wanted to make a woman feel like that. At the same time, I just don't think I'd enjoy having sex with a woman. I could be wrong -- I've never done it.
But growing up gay as one of Jehovah's Witnesses has seriously messed me up around sex. I have a deep-seated association between arousal and shame, so anything that gets me off is something I'm inherently ashamed of. I don't like to talk about masturbation, or the people or things I find hot, or the situations that I dream up when I'm horny. I was able to push past this before because my libido was high enough for me to forget all of that...at least, online. In person, I just cannot get out of my own head enough to concentrate on pleasure. The whole time, I'm thinking about how I smell, or whether or not I'm doing something right, or trying to set aside the guilt I feel about my own pleasure. This problem has only intensified over time. My Prozac prescription is at 80 mg, which makes my libido really low, and my anxiety overrides most of the enjoyment I get out of intimacy.
That sucks. It really does. I want to be touched. I like being rubbed and scratched and kneaded. I, too, am somewhat affection-starved. But it's hard for me to initiate intimacy because I'm always afraid of the point where it goes further than I want it to. I can't just be like "Let's cuddle but no sex," or "I'd really like a massage but that's it." It makes me feel like I'm using someone for my own edification while they get nothing out of it.
On the other hand, I'm not sure I'd actually like participating in sex without focusing on myself. Again, performance anxiety, but also just...I have no idea where boundaries are for most people and I really don't want to step past them. I've never been dying to get someone off, really, even though I do want to make the people I care about feel good, share an experience with them that brings us closer together. Sex feels like a trap to me; my experiences have formed this prison in my head that I can't escape around it.
I *do* touch R. a lot, and I've tried to be more affectionate and physically present with him over the past several weeks. The touch isn't reciprocated often, and I'll take some of the blame for that as well. R. likes biting, scratching, pinching a lot -- he expresses affection that's often tinged with pain and that's...really not my jam. So I get annoyed or upset, and it makes him less-inclined to touch me because he's getting negative feedback.
The problem is that I can't seem to convince him that I want to be touched, but in a different way. I don't think he understands that I'm a pretty sensitive person and pain takes me right out of any desire to be intimate. I want to be close to him, but I don't want to be bitten or licked or scratched. I like rubbing, kneading, stroking, soft touches. And I don't think I can ask for that in a way that will be honored -- or at least, I haven't been able to ask for it that way so far. There's nothing wrong with his inclination, and I don't want to change him completely or tell him that it's wrong. But it doesn't line up with my needs.
So I feel stuck. I'm too self-conscious about my body to hang out with him in these gay spaces -- he's in amazing shape and can pull off really hot looks, while I'm still very much in my print t-shirt and ill-fitting pants phase. I'm an introvert who isn't comfortable in large, loud crowds. I don't think I'd fit in with the SF Gay Scene. And my nature and experience makes it difficult for me to be physical with others -- even my own husband.
There has to be some way to navigate through this briar patch. Hell if I know how, though.
