The following revelation is not really a revelation at all, in the whole scheme of human thought, but for me, I know for sure now a thing I have hoped wasn't true.
People, specifically the men who have come and gone from my life, think I'm great until shit gets real and they have to see me for who I am, as opposed to what they thought I was, hoped I was, glorified me to be. Hence, "little miss sensitive."
When I'm told I'm "too sensitive," like there's something wrong with being a raw and feeling, perceptive, person, I'm inclined to retort with "you're INsensitive." So there.
I'm about to get sexually graphic, but I'll sensor a bit because it's a little much for me to fully bare, even enshrouded in anonymity. But I have to be honest, because otherwise, what is the point of doing this at all.
My male significant other is a "freak," and I like that about him. It's fun. Never boring for sure. He's very open. Certainly heterosexual but not afraid to acknowledge the bisexuality of our minds and the thoughts that he has as being okay as fantasies which apparently stay fantasies. I can relate, so I guess we have that in common.
There was recently a particular occasion, however, when he woke me up, and asked me "how would you feel if I told you I wanted to s*ck another man's c*ck?" Stuff like this has come up before, and it used to really upset me, because it confused me and made me feel like I must not be enough, or what he wants, and other such things, however, he has assured me, it's just thoughts; sexy things for sexy times. Period. So, even though, I'll admit, it gives me that "I-just-caught-my -boyfriend-cheating-on-me" pit-of-the-gut sick feeling (that may be the most hyphens I've ever used at one time), I have grown to swallow it and let him have it, knowing he does indeed want me and he's very loyal in this way, thus far (we've been together about two years).
But this felt different. Or maybe it was because I was just on my way to a nice deep REM sleep and this is what I awoke to. I felt the pit-of-the-stomach feeling, but I said something, I don't remember what, to kind of let him have the moment; giving my best effort at suspending disbelief for him. In the past in similar situations, it is always me that he wants and that is the end of it. It was just a kinky, naughty thought in the moment.
Then he said, "I'll be back."
It wasn't about me at all. In fact, I don't really understand why he woke me up. But I was now awake, apparently meant to lie there, waiting for him to watch porn, to bring visuals to the thought, and then return to me when he was done.
When I told him I felt hurt, thinking that he was waking me because he wanted me, and that it seemed kind of cruel, why didn't he just go take care of business and leave me none the wiser. Why involve me at all? He became irate. He doesn't want to tell me these things anymore because I always have to ruin them. I sound like a teenager. I'm so fucking sensitive. I'm so immature, I can't handle these things... so on. When the fact of the matter is I can, and do, handle these things, and what I really want is a mature response to my feelings about something that did, indeed, involve me. If I feel uncomfortable, or have questions about an "intimate" situation, I should be able to do that, and be received with sensitivity because it can be a touchy subject. Right? Am I wrong? I don't know anymore.
It was an awful argument and here I am now at 1AM starting an anonymous blog because stupid shit like this happens, not usually on this particular topic, quite often (usually once per week), and I always end up feeling misunderstood, unheard, called selfish, called sensitive, threatened by divorce. This time he said he hates me. Last time he told me he can't stand me. Yet, outside of these weird miscommunications that end explosively most of the time, we have this really chill relationship.
So, to bring it back around, I feel that he loved me for what he thought I was going to be and now that we are married and have REALLY merged our lives together, he's finding out that I do have insecurities, limits, frustrations, needs, etc. and they are the kind that take effort to fulfill, or discuss, or live with.
When we first met it was one of those whirlwind things, where we so didn't mean to meet, in fact I was decidedly single and intending to remain that way after a fresh separation leading toward divorce. We literally spent the next 300 days together. Eleven months. Every day, every night. Well except one. I tried to visit family for a holiday and ended up returning to him the next day because it was so painful to be apart. Silly, maybe, but that's what happened.
Anyway, within the first week he said, verbatim, "you seem so perfect. What's wrong with you? There's got to be something wrong with you." I didn't want any pretenses so I divulged that I was recently separated, hence technically married, I was the mother of a 3-year old, and a recovered addict (Rx crap). Oh, and I am eleven years older than him. At the time he was 23 and I was 34. This REALLY freaked me out. If it was the other way around, older guy, it would be nothing to anyone. When we met, we both mentally thought, "he/she looks about 27-28," and proceeded to fall madly into love or lust; some kind of lovely insanity. But I wanted him to know about my baggage and I told him I would COMPLETELY understand that, as a 23 year old, or just as a person, it would make sense if he wanted to bail. Because that's a lot for a 23 year old to take on; or at least it would have been for me.
Obviously he chose to stick around.
Passionate people are sometimes scary together. No one wants to back down. Both want to be heard and understood hence not understanding each other because we are so focused on feeling unheard, misunderstood, and injusticed! It can get physical. It can get loud.
Our upstairs neighbors actually hate us because we are loud. I didn't realize how loud until one day their baby cried and it sounded like it was in my kitchen. Apparently we have gauze for floors and walls. At that moment I was mortifyingly embarrassed, because so much of what they must have heard is intensely private and the notion that anyone overheard it was just too much. Not only arguments, but sex too. Yikes. They must think we are insane and uber abusive, which we kind of are.
He has anger problems. Certain things make him snap and it's the point of no return. If I'm in stubborn mode and don't just back down, I may end up with a piece of furniture smashed to bits by him. It might be a hair brush, or a shoe hurling at me. I might get strangled in the pantry. That happened once. I know what you're thinking. I thought it too. But apparently we have moved on. He's working on it, and so am I.
All of that from him, and I love him anyway, love him more even, because it's all the result of vulnerability which stems from some fucked up childhood events. I see that. I get it, and I know it's not his fault but he does have to take responsibility for it as an adult. So he is. We sought counseling. Does that make you feel better? ~LMS