Guest Column: Dating Online Series. Decisioning! by Ms. Jennifer  

 Another birthday has come and gone. The annual marking of my age seems to be occurring faster. And so I approach decision making more emphatically.  I like to refer to my mental and emotional process as decisioning. That is, decisioning for me is the process of making a determination in light of doubt. Or as St. Augustine wrote in De Duabus Animabus (Two Souls), “Hear the other side.”  

Upon hearing the other side in my relationships I’ve determined the need for women dominated sex. Easy, right?  It’s my pussy and I can give it to whomever I want under my rules of conduct.  It’s not that I’m trying to silence the cock, but sometimes it seems the only things that might work is either chastity or having a relation with a eunuch. I’m not sure whose rules I’m playing, some rules I made up or what society is telling me, but once you give the pussy up you don’t get to go back to saying no.  After a test drive, maybe I want to return the car and yet there seems to be some rule that you ‘re now headed into a relationship or at least that’s what the boy thinks I want to hear. I am unimpressed.  I had to figure out how to tell him I want more than a good fuck, for example, I want my pussy licked.  But I can’t simply ask.  I have to get mad to let that little tip slip. It’s not a gift I wish for only on holidays and birthdays.  

And from the guy who told me he wants to “explore every inch of my body,” I learned he doesn’t really like doing it, but he will. Great.  I’m not interested in a guy eating me out who’d rather eat carrots.  I don’t want AGENDA sex.  I want if safe and I want it wild, but I don’t want a tit for tit sex… like I’ll work your cock, so you can worship my pussy.   I tell him this… I don’t want to feel like he’s doing me a favor, but he tells me something like I “deserve” it like it’s Christmas or something.   

Seduction is different than reality.  Maybe I’m not giving him enough of a chance, but the one thing I know is I have to stop the cock from being the boss.  Like after we had sex the next time he came over I planned to talk to him about this and my dating other men.  I told him over the phone I didn’t want to have sex. So he shows up with condoms but no lube which I asked him to pick up. It’s more comfortable with lube. We fucked anyways.  Now why open my mouth for his cock? Still, I have to admit it felt good surrendering to his large phallus, that feeling of submitting, but that’s not all I want and I certainly don’t want to follow the (yawn) familiar script.  He came and, well, didn’t exactly fall asleep, but I talked while he grunted.  I “think too much” he tells me.  Yes, I need to keep learning how to let go and I also need to learn how to open my mouth more and not just for some cock. He gets tired and I’m ready to continue. 

That’s what tantric sex preaches  “recycling the energy” you don’t simply have an orgasm and pass out.  A friend of mine mentions my need for one loyal lover and friends with benefits on the side or multiple lovers. Perhaps, but I can’t understand how I can find a loyal lover when I can’t even find someone who doesn’t dominate with their cock.  Their urge is too powerful, or they can’t afford to feel somehow less masculine, if they give the women the reigns?  Why are men so terrified to give up control and let a woman be in charge?   I mean I get that it’s confusing.  And scary.  It’s much more familiar if the guy is in control and the woman follows.  But the truth is I need to get out of their head and into my own.  I’m  just as afraid to lose control, so apparently, I can identify.  I had no idea how terrified I was about losing control. My ex solidified that even love doesn’t protect you, there is no control.  Love/sex is sublime terror. lol.

And this woman gives mixed signals which apparently makes the man try and figure out what this little lady wants.  It’s hard for me to be direct (faster, harder, a little to the right, now a little to the left) like I am an air traffic controller.  I want to be soft and yielding and let that cock fill me and I want to know who I am and directly, spit words out of my mouth.   How can I be both?  Can the man give it or do I have to take it?  When the cock rules, I think I mostly have to learn to take it.  So how do I let the man feel like a man, but he needs to know who he is independent of me.  I don’t want to get into a petty power struggles over who is in charge.  Can I find a man who will let me be in charge even if I am a new commander?  Or do I have to be a dictator?  Isn’t there another way?  A way to defer that makes it more interesting and exciting something beyond the pussy servicing the cock?  It’s a dance.  Sometimes I enjoy the submission, but as I mature, I want to dominate. Is it a process of self-negotiation?

Listening to my dad with his caregiver I understand better why everything is a negotiation.  He’s a contrarian… like father, like daughter.

The caregiver tells him, “we need to change your shirt.”

“No.”

But “you need to get clean before breakfast” (does logic work?)

“Bullshit.” (yesterday he said horse shit).

He knows eggs are at stake.

“I think I’m trapped.”

“Now, I need to escape.”

“Where do you want to go?”

“Paradise for six months.”  

“What do you want to do in paradise that you can’t do here?”

She breaks the spell by announcing (because you need to give him notice)…”we’re going to take your bottoms off.”

“That’s what you think.”  

She works on taking off his piss and shit filled Depends.

“You tricked me.”

Why can’t he let go even when he’s full of shit?

I sit and reflect on my own stubbornness.  My need to be right.   My need to control, to protect myself.  My own fear.    

Enter Amigo.  He’s been working on my house and for the first time in two years I’ve finally found someone who gives a shit.   A craftsman who is competent and cares about the quality of his work.  He works all day and then comes to my house after his full-time job and at first I was just offering him “agua” and then we started talking about things beside dry wall and what type of screws I need to pick up.  It didn’t take long to figure out his work is his wife and Lord knows I know I’m never going to convert him.  Even the pussy can’t do that, but then one day while we were talking he simply put out his hand and I took it. Not surprisingly, it was rough well-worn from years of hard work and I was drawn to him.  

There’s something about the underdog that appeals to me.  Maybe it’s the lack of “male privilege” that I like knowing the vulnerability has to be hidden. Those rough hands, with the soft heart.  He’s been here for something like 16 years with a worker’s permit, but no green card and he knows if he goes back home to see his family including two daughters he’s likely to not get out again.  He also has a son here, along with his nephew, who also lives with him.  I imagine there is so much grief there that he can’t open that door even a crack and so he works and he works and he works.  

The first time he touched me I felt myself melt.  He massage my back and my neck I couldn’t touch him yet, but I received his gift.  And suddenly I had to start thinking about the other guy I had been dating and as a result started to feel all this anxiety.  No, we hadn’t discuses becoming “exclusive” and, more importantly, I wasn’t sure I ready for or wanted that so exactly why was I feeling so torn?  Maybe I had to realize despite my advance age (both of these men are close to 20 years younger than me) including the stories I used to tell myself –once you’re old no one wants a graying pussy, I had to realize the bullshit I made up isn’t true and that’s just one of the small ways I shut down my sexuality.  Underscore.

Suddenly, I have a problem to solve.  I have created this little drama.  We may not have talked about being “exclusive” but I also haven’t announced I’m dating others either.   The next night when I went up to see the progress, Mr. Amigo asked if he could touch my breasts.   Now, in my mind this means “touch my breasts” not we’re going to pound it on the dry wall.   And that’s what happened only I was so into it that I didn’t realize in my ecstasy that he was giving me a “I stabbed myself with a  2 x 4” hickey.   Now how was I going to explain that?   The plot was thickening quickly. 

I circle back to what I said before I’m having trouble saying what I want or more precisely knowing what I want.  I’m afraid the guy I’m dating won’t be an imaginative lover that he will get quickly content with fucking once a week and making me “his woman.”   I think Mr. Amigo wanted to mark is territory on my tits, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Not now, it’s too soon, but as self-reliant as I’ve become having a boyfriend still appeals, but it takes time to get there and I’m not sure how fucking me on the dry wall is going to illuminate that. 

Mr. Amigo jokingly says I’m not putting out because I want him to get the work done, but I told him it’s not that…. it’s that I don’t want to put out if he disappears AFTER he’s done with the work because he’s married to his work, because I’m seeing someone else and, because I don’t know him all that well.  Does he have the capacity to have a relationship outside of work?   We made a bet and he surprised me not saying he wants the pussy if he wins, but he wants to go away for a weekend. 

I’m realizing the impossibility of any relationship during COVID-19 technically we aren’t supposed to do anything with anyone so that leaves talking and as we all know talk is “cheap.”   I get it’s okay not to know what I want to do about any of these relationships it’s just hard for me to live in limbo and I’m finding that’s the case with these men… pussy or no pussy.  I think that’s the difference now instead of waiting to sort everything out, lots of people just jump in and try it on for size.  I see the merits of this, but remember I’m protecting the pussy.  After jumping into the latest trend and seeing how I do (teaching Kundalini yoga or tantra, etc), now I’m, for better or worse, being a little more protective of my heart.   Maybe as I get older I should just say “fuck it” and jump in when I find a young buck who wants to bang me on the dry wall or maybe I’ve haven’t lost my total romanticism and want someone to make love to me on a feather bed.  

Mr. Amigo called to tell me he can’t come today.  He apologized for pushing things with me when I was telling him I didn’t want sex.   He’s also telling me he hasn’t been with a woman for a VERY long time.  I feel his passion and hunger.  Maybe we are both shaking up each other a bit and we both like it and we both resent the intrusion.   Last night Mr. 45 called me and said he would call me back.  He didn’t.  He told me he wanted to come over today, because he’s going to drive his aunt to a family function and will be gone all weekend.  I told him to text me first in case Mr. Amigo was still here (I needed to confess about my date with Mr. Amigo before he sees the trophy marks across my tits), but he didn’t show up, actually no one showed up today.   In the past, I would have reached out to Mr. 45 and asked him “what happened,” but now I’m going on with my day and only occasionally wondering WTF.   I told Mr. 45 he’s acting like a FWB, he can say what he wants, but that may be where we are going unless we fizzle out like everything else on Tinder.   

The chase isn’t so interesting anymore.  I started talking to a lawyer who would provide me with the intellectual stimulation I need, but after a great “text” conversation I see he’s married to his work, too. He fits my profile (older and educated) but he’s not getting back to me so what’s the point?  It’s all too much energy.  Okay, for the moment back to Netflix.