by Ms. Jennifer

Maybe I’m looking at my pussy with the wrong pair of glasses.  I mean I recall the days when it wasn’t really my pussy, it was more like at the art museum where it was on permanent loan.  I was so concerned with not giving it away or making sure if I did it wouldn’t be used or abused, that I never really thought about what SHE Wanted.  She’s always been in protective mode like a security guard at the bank.  Always on watch 24/7.  It was always certain boys who wanted her.  Whether a good boy or bad boy eventually they got around to wanting the pussy (obviously the good boys were less overt about it), but the dick always dominated.

And I’m starting to realize nothing much has changed. I mean EVERYTHING has changed except me…I’m using an obsolete operating system.  Recently I’ve been offered the cock, and now I’m learning the owner of those cocks aren’t ONLY listening to their dicks, they’re actually also thinking about my pussy knowing she needs some love.  In other words, it’s more than the self-preoccupied dick of my past.  Has the dick changed that much or is it me?   Or maybe it was never so black and white.  Of course, the heterosexual men I’ve met have always wanted the pussy, but is there more space now for women to figure out what they want and more men who want to please?  They want the pussy, but they understand and honor what the pussy wants.

I think a new consensus Is unfolding.

Still, it’s like my switch is broken.  Like I can’t get over how the “man I love” put me and my pussy at risk.  And this is not the first time, but I thought for sure I was “safe” because I was loved.  I am not sure what to do now because that little “law” between us was broken.

And this fear is unrelenting.  Like my pit bull who won’t let go.  Fucking (can) mean trauma.   And I’m not saying that to be overly dramatic.  Fucking meant unwanted pregnancies, fucking meant doing something you didn’t want to do, fucking meant confusion, and rejection and, even, death.   I’m haunted and I don’t know how to let go of that.  So I realized tonight that I’m “dominating by withholding the pussy.”   I keep the pussy, I keep control.  Jerry thinks I’m doing this to be a tease, but he doesn’t understand I’m doing this more out of something resembling terror.  And it’s not just the men I don’t trust.  I’m not sure I trust myself.  What happens when I lose control?

Sure, I can argue that I want a long-term relationship and I won’t give up the pussy until I feel totally safe (but see above) there is no guarantee even in a committed, long-term relationship.  But I’ve whipped myself up into a frenzy of fear (rather than pleasure) and SOMETIMES there is good reason not to trust. In my defense, there are a lot of lies in the dating scene and I’m sure there are plenty of men it wouldn’t be a good idea to get involved with.  I’m also sure right now there are a couple men that, may not love me, but certainly respect me and would be happy to give my pussy some much need Tender Loving Care.

Still I hold out.  My new somewhat legit excuse is I’m simply exhausted.  And it’s hard to feel sexy when your dad is making noises in the room next door or knowing the dick in front of you can’t stay.  Apparently, I can just keep this up always finding a reason to not let my pussy out.  So, what exactly am I so afraid of beside getting a STD?   For me that’s huge. Not only losing my brother to AIDS, but having re-cancerous cells removed, by the same surgeon that treated my best friend who later died of ovarian cancer, but it’s not the only thing. Life means risk taking.

What happens if I “lose control?”   I think the chaos I experienced growing up means losing control something BAD is going to happen.  And if not right then, eventually, there will be some negative consequences.  Yes, for those of you who are wondering, I grew up Catholic, too.  But how have the rest of ya’ll gotten over this?  This is what I want to know.  I’ve done lots of things to “heal,” and I feel just as fucked up as ever… maybe more since I never expected to be single at my age and going online to meet men.

With so many “one and done,” I don’t want to bring my pussy out of the safety deposit box.  In that way I am still guarding the pussy.  It seems now, however, that woman are just as eager to have sex.  They aren’t giving the pussy for someone else’s gratification, but are “getting their needs met” and this is what my coach across the street was suggestion that I start thinking about MY needs.   But what exactly are MY needs (besides the obvious need to feel safe)?  First, there’s still the old pressure that the dick has to make me cum.   This isn’t going to happen for me.  I’m sorry to say, it’s just not that easy.  And if it happens it’s going to take a very talent tongue and it’s going to take a while.  I’m used to my girlfriend who vibrates at a very high speed and no tongue can keep up, but I have total control over my girlfriend who wants nothing from me.  When it comes to a real man I’ll stick to something PG rated … kissing, maybe a little fondling, nothing where I feel out of control. So it’s about control and less about pleasure.  That’s fucked up, people.

That’s why I need time to sort out how to get past the security guard.  If I’m going be “out of control,” I want to know exactly what going to happening–lol.  Well, that might be a slight exaggeration.  In the past, I handled this by marrying my ex who was  “nice,” but bored the shit out of me, because he was cut off from his sexuality.  But eventually “nice” wasn’t enough.  So now I’m meeting men who ooze sexuality and I’m, truth be told, turned on.  But still no fucking.  Or the “good boys” who want an instant relationship… I don’t trust them either…. so still no pussy.

It’s fucked up.  And I need to know how to get myself unstuck.  I was talking with Mr. 45 on the phone about this and he said something about helping me get unstuck before I mentioned any of this to him.  Although it’s not rocket science to see I’m a little jammed up.   So, there’s a war inside my head.  Part of me is a “slut” and open to almost everything and part of me is terrified.

I’m afraid of my own sexuality and after marrying someone who kept it safe, I was with two men who were totally unsafe because they lied and hid themselves and put me at risk because they weren’t honest.  I feel anxious, not excited, at the thought of some random sexual encounter.   Maybe some people get off on the danger of that.  Going out with different men on a first date is enough “danger” for me.

In fact, when I met Mr. 45 he asked me to walk back to his truck I was like “what for?”   It reminded me of the date I had with the guy who asked me to get into his car and then he started driving without saying what he was doing (and I jumped out of the car).  And that also reminds me of the time I was in a taxi (when I was about 17) and the cab driver wanted to know if I could reach the lock which was on the driver’s side of the bullet proof plexiglass.  I want to know how to process fear, how to move on.  How can this shit still linger?

So, I asked Mr. 45, a black man, about his fear.  He’s got a lot more reason to fear than I do.  First, I’m white and being older, I should be a lot closer to the grave then him.   He’s a musician (which already adds to his hotness) but he told me his gift is being extremely intuitive to the point of, okay this is going to sound a little crazy, to having a sense of what’s going to happen.  When he listens to the wisdom voice he doesn’t feel afraid, because he knows he’s being guided.

I want that voice!  But ultimately you have to know what real and what’s bullshit.  I always think MORE TIME is the answer… maybe, maybe not. Mr. 45 tells me he gets the vibe right away, but I’m a remedial student.  I need more time to sort out what’s true.  Anyway, his friend called and was messed up and wanted him to come pick him up and he wasn’t going to go, but being a good girl I said we should go help his friend.  We get there and the friend doesn’t pick up his phone.  So we drive back.  Later he tells me he didn’t listen to that voice inside him and he ended up going back after I left to his friend and later found his truck ticketed and booted.  Now he’s got to come up with over three thousand dollars.

The key is intuition and listening to it!  Perhaps as I trust myself and my intuition more my guard will relax (or maybe even take the day off) and I won’t have to be so afraid.  There is a lot of trauma where I live (New Orleans) and I’m sensitive to it, because I have my own trauma and I want to heal so I can be available to the next thing I’m supposed to do with my precious life.

Today both the caregiver and the contractor didn’t show up. I’m trying to keep some sort of momentum going, but some days are harder than others.  Still, I have a meet and greet in a few hours.  Maybe I should be painting a room instead? Oh, and just for fun, I’m meeting the guy whose opening line was the “you look the type of girl who would enjoy being pinned up against the wall and fucked” tomorrow.

I am starting to see a pattern here.  I’m attracted to highly sexual men, but then I don’t let myself go there.  I’m not trying to play games. I’m really trying to work something out.  I only hope that all this “dating” (and writing) is helping me get to some sort of place where I’m freer and not so afraid of letting go.  Because I know sex/love/intimacy is actually both wildly freeing and terrifying.