NOT IN MY BODY EVEN I

Of night of the January 13th 2007, after my faitful although terribly stressful meeting with an artist guy who kindled my desire like one does a funeral pyre and left me to burn on it (perhaps he intended to make a fire and blow it out before I burn to hell, but his intention did not manifest and become corrporeal...perhaps he wanted just to stay warm and keep wild animals away, I don't know. All I know that I burnt. And it sucked.) I could not fall asleep for a longtime after. Many of you may take it for granted that you feel your body but I was not able to do the same till I was much older. I was outside of my body for quiet a while, and the experience of body owning and sensing is quiet new to me. And girl, is it thrilling!!! When I was growing up, my parents by all means attempted and actively suppressed a natural sexual development of their maturing daughter, and I had no one to encourage me to know or do otherwise. Lovers benefitted tremendously by mine being away from the body for they could get away with much, do little and as they please. The society as I outlined before loves to chase women away from their bodies, then insert a patriarchal notion first, baby follows later; men are trained to DESPISE -!!! women who have a desire. Strangely enough, they compain when the "bitches" are frigid...Logic? -Abscent! Strangely enough what should be an aversion - one's own sex, creates a strange and perverted desire in them, these males (perverse from a biological and Biblical and natural common sense perspective), they are so trained to hate the opposite gender that a natural sexual desire for it turns to aversion in that gender and in desire in the same. Greeks have perfected a system of homosexuality and have institutionalized it. The world is simply conspired against harmony of genders and Jehovah is a leading criminal-god (the rebelious god against the old gods) who will have his revenge and avenge the plan of two sexes in peace. Meanwhile the trickster commands you to stay away from that different love, and even punishes you by erasing cities, tribes and individuals...What hypocrisy, methinks! Or perhaps it does have a logical explanation? Why not a man help a woman evolve but choose an easy way out and a short cut, and go to other men, leaving women by themselves and to each other? Isn't the cowardice and low mindness of a "superior" gender simply fascinating?! But enough of that, back to me. On sulfur and hail and fire, later.
So, as I layed on my floor (after the bed bug incident I had not mattress as you remember and would not venture to buy one for the lack of repairs still onto the month of January) so, as I laid there on my floor isolated from its touch by a protection of a thin blanket, I felt evey little bone in my body. My poor bones, when was the last time they received love, or care, or gentleness?...But besides the pain from the floor, there was another pain. The pain of awakening. The pain of desire. I felt my crotch, my hips, my stomach, my skin and my pubic hair, everything screamed with sensuality and desired to be touched, licked, caressed, penetrated, kissed. I turned on my stomach and grabbed a pillow: the new roommate moved in last night and it would be terribly embrassing to moan and groan in the fits of desire. I could not masturbate for I did not feel comfortable nor did I feel like it would suffice. I wanted hands, dick, mouth, kiss, hug, saliva, semen, mucus, vaginal fluids. So, I grabbed the pillow and bit my lip.
I have never been so present in my body before. I felt that I've landed into this terra incognita and now had to do my best with whatever means I had. Living in the world of analogies, dreams, ideas, fears, senses and emotions, physical landing felt harsh but pleasant. I felt my body, its youth, its screaming of the slowly approaching (though not yet any near) old age, its fear, its begging me to live it up, to feel, to succeed, to live, to love, to fuck, to fuck most of all. I laid there and looked at myself, exposing to my eyes intermideately first, one spot, then another. My body was ok, at parts it was beautiful. I pitied it and its youth and how it wanted to be loved. I kept imagining the guy and feeling his presence: he would be perfect. With his passion directed into a proper channel, he could have fucked me well and make me satisfied, which has not happen to me in a while, and dare I say it did not happen for a loooong while not only for me but I suspect, to many if not all women. The truth is, you guys have no idea how to fuck us. You have, pardon actually, ALL IDEA about how you should, and none of the reality of organic human interaction and what it would lead to: a genuine, a true and real connection you have so developed with one another. We have bodies. We eat. We breathe. We shit. We fuck, oh we fuck and oh how I wanted a man. It was maddening. I moaned and tossed, feeling the age old adages of monks (notice, we never know about the struggles and tribulations of the nuns!!! The knowledge that could help us grow and evolve and become better...) about flesh and a necessity to mortify it. Men admit to it, this scary, strange and horrific "it" of the desire, of the burning, of the passion, live with it, and so are able to progress by conquering yet another boundary. But for us they have created a world of shame and impression where we are supposed to fluctuate between being terribly ashamed to being terrible impressed or impressive. We are seals, you know. We exist to press your hot wax... No, We Don't Exist To Press Your Melting Red Wax and make you a king, you know.
We have needs.
We have bodies.
We have a life.
I touched myself in a few places, no, men, masturbation for a woman is not "playing with yourself" you fucking idiots, you morons, why, oh why are you, morons who hate us, do not know our bodies, have no idea of what a woman's cycle or her natural body is, allowed to tell us how to play with ourselves?! Or that we should play at all? Or the very concept of a "play" gets introduced? By whom - by you?... Why are we not left to discover it on our own, by ourselves, why are YOU expected to know more than us? What, are you crazy to suggest you might know our bodies better than we our own? And you do! You do know them better. In an idea, that is. And that is how you want us to exist: in an idea! But we don't want to exist in an idea. We want to exist for real. In all full reality.
WE ARE PEOPLE
WE ARE HUMAN
AND WE EXIST
And with all that heat and feeling, I have met this beautiful guy who has so terribly lit me on fire and then pretty much left me no choice but to escape his craziness and his denial of this fire. How painful! How mortifying! How most inhumane to treat an innocent being that has trusted you, this way! I thought that if meanwhile he, the older, more experienced guy put himself in my shoes and realized how moritifed and scared I was, if he pulled me over and pressed me to himself, if he just kissed me and then touched me, we would be ok. All that he needed to do was to calm me down, to quench my thirst a little, to carress me instead of speaking and trying to do it with words. How could he, in his late fourties of early fifties (looking young, as is customary today, but nonetheless, where is the maturity at?..) failed to see it! How did he, having made a baby and been married, was unable to see this much or that little! What is it! He only needed to extend his arm and pull me to him and show me how not to be afraid, I am bottom and cannot really initiate, it goes against my grain.
Another strange phenomena I've observed is when a woman is aggressive in life everyone thinks she is a top in bed. No. As you know with guys, almost always a most aggressive guy in life is going to be a bottom in bed. Why is a human being will be different here? We are the same. Many of us life tops love to get fucked. We just do a favor to you people, and say otherwise.
For myself, I am a bottom. Many tried to convert me to being a top.
WHY?