Experience June 2, 2010

And as quickly as it came, it’s gone.

There was a ‘Whoooosh!’ of flying through the air; that falling in love feeling. Everything was perfect. Too perfect it seems. To perfect for a  boy who had been with the same girl for five years.  Nothing went wrong except the fact that he needs to be alone. To be selfish. And I can’t blame him. Could you? One girl for five years…I can’t even stay with a man for five months!

We allowed the wave to take us and it was way too much, too fast, too soon. It only took six weeks for us to entwine into one another’s lives. He spoke of ten year plans, breakfasts in France, and meeting his grandparents. I tried not to take his words seriously. I was enjoying the experience, knowing it was only a matter of time before we floated down and back to reality. But all of a sudden I was falling. Reaching out, trying to catch on to anything. He had pulled back, realized he wasn’t ready for what he had wanted so earnestly a week before. Too much pressure. I tried to take the pressure off. He said he doesn’t believe in a place between friendship and serious relationship where both people can be happy. I explained that there are many shades of grey; some good and some bad. I’ve been to a few.

He may be an old soul but he’s still only 21 and I suspect he’s only been with girls. I’m only 23 but I am very much a woman, have been for a while now. I have been with men and I have experienced enough to know that a connection like ours doesn’t come along often. I have left love behind enough times to know that it’s always better to share an experience than to run away because of fear. I suppose these aren’t things you can make another person see. It’s only a lesson he can learn on his own.

A Perfect Circle April 14, 2010

A couple of months ago I was shattered. In my journey to pick up the pieces I found new ones and different ways to fit the old bits back in there. Some i discarded all together. I am reaffirmed in my beliefs, in my values, and my view of the world. I have embraced my feminine energy and the power that comes with it. I also have a new found respect for that power, and a new connection to the meaning of ‘life’. That’s not to say I’ve figured it all out…there’s a long way to go still. But I now know how strong i can be. I have learned to take responsibility for my actions. I learned that when shit hits the fan I need to find the strength to clean up the mess. Regardless of how good your friends are or how many men are in love with you, at the end of the day you only answer to yourself.  There is that moment when you stop feeling sorry for yourself; look around, appreciate what you have, work for what you want, and cast out those who are holding you back.

I have always believed that before you can truly share yourself with another person you need to be whole. A wise woman once told me that a circle represents life, cycles, and wholeness. When a circle appears in a spread she lets them in on a little secret, ‘if there’s something you want other people to give you, something you need to be happy, first give it to yourself.’ A partnership is not two halves of the same circle but two complete circles superimposed and vibrating at the same frequency. It’s not about sex – though the sex is good. It’s not about money – but securities important. It’s about that feeling, the indescribable. The feeling that brings with it warmth and joy and trust.

I’m in love. There. I said it.  I havent said it to him exactly, not those three words put together in that order. But he feels it too…..we beat around the bush about it. In conversation: “I LOVE that about you.” And text message: “Good morning love”. There’s youtube videos uploaded to profiles and all the ‘likes’ and comments that go with it.

There’s the kind of love that hurts; hurts because you just can’t be, hurts because of distance, or hurts because they just don’t love you back. There’s the love that makes you crazy; crazy jealous, crazy insecure, or crazy horny and raring to go. Sometime love cripples you with dependence, or fear, or inconsistencies….I’v been in love before. But never like this. There’s no words really, just energy. There is no hurt; we are, we’re close, and he knows it. I’m crazy about him but oh so calm. It’s the kind of love that wants them to know every little piece of you, 2am tellings of your lifestory like its never been told before. The kind of love where he truly wants to know. There is no jelousy because i feel secure, there is intamacy but it is not based on lust. We are two independant beings; I am not afraid because i trust him.

On Spooning March 23, 2010

There is someone from my past with whom i curled up with for six months before our physical relationship became anything more. We had known one another from pre-teen summers and (aside from a brief encounter one year previous) our relationship was strictly platonic.

A 2:30 am phone call as random as it was irregular, “Hey, kiddo.”

A short walk (cab in the winter) and we lay like spoons. Moving together with the rise and fall of our breath, the subtle scent of whiskey sending shivers down my collar bone. We never spoke about this late night element of our friendship, individually brushing it off as innocent, yet giving imagination free reign as we fell into sleep. There’s little else that creates such an intimate connection. As touch led to more it was his confident hand that drove me crazy, unwavering and committed it became something i could no longer resist… He was only the second person i allowed inside. Small tokens -a finger tip sized bruise on the side of my breast- were all i had to remind me for a few days, a week, a month. Our encounters slipped in and out of time; between lovers, relationships, and entrance portfolios. He never disguised his intentions, i can’t blame him for my heartache. Lying in his arms on a spring afternoon i finally summoned the courage to say no. Our psychedelic adventure that day had left me elated yet with knowledge that what we had was turning me inside out. The two of us returned to ‘friendship’ yet heartbreak was inevitable. It saddens me that we no longer speak…but that was probably my fault (and most likely for the best).

Spooning suites me well; there is something about a new love that makes it hard for me to look them in the eye – the jolt of a direct connection mixed with a touch of sexual submission. Back to front we can speak (or not) with ease. I love the way a bend in the hips is all that is needed to connect the erogenous zones, regardless of height or weight. The initial contact is easy to obtain yet it is the subtleties that make all the difference; where the hands lay to rest, the speed of the lungs. Breathe in and out, in and out. It is a maliable puzzle, while anyone can put it together only a select few fit snug with purpose.

There are those

who have a write out

of character traits desired in a partner.

For me

the list is small and based on instinct;

an attraction to the scent,

comfortable silence,

and a good spoon.

I might be in love…

Too soon?

The Impending Apocolypse February 25, 2010

University has felt like a burden, something that’s preparing me for adulthood in a world that’s not going to exist for much longer. Every few months I have a nightmare about the oil running out/natural disaster hitting/America invading. I wake up in a sweat, frightened and vulnerable because instead of building solar panels on my house I’ve been in the city finishing projects and writing papers.  Don’t think I’m being a cynic, this apocalyptic view IS an optimistic look into the future. I’ve been preparing for it for a while now. Well, mentally at least; reading books about herbs, thinking about growing a garden. I know how to build fires and shelter and pee in the trees. The way I see it were either going to keep consuming how we do until EVERYTHING DIES or the world as we know it will come crashing down and those of us who pull through will be left with the task of (responsible) procreation.

FERTILITY. I have always wanted children but it wasn’t until about a year ago when i went off the pill that i really started to feel it. There’s even been one or two men with whom I’ve considered the unspeakable happening. I used to fantasize about dropping out of school so I could go get some land and build an earthship-esqu home. We’d feed our children vegetables from the garden and let them run around outside in bare feet. Self sufficient and prepared for whatever comes next. These days they tell you to get your degree, figure out your career then worry about ‘starting your life’ and having a family. But then you get into your twenties and your body starts wanting to know whats going on.  “Impregnate me!” scream your ovaries “You’re practically an old maid!”

Sometimes I wonder if that baby was my chance…my chance to be a mother before everything starts falling apart. You can’t bet on those kind of odds. The unknown. Not when your almost in your final year and $30,000 in debt. Not when having a child means dropping out and moving into your parents basement on the other side of the country. They probably would have welcomed a grandchild, his or her life would have been fine. But what about mine? The grants turn into loans if you don’t graduate, there you are; a single mother with an incomplete ‘education’ drowning in monthly payments. Six months ago I was waiting for the sky to fall but now i’m willing it to stay up. Give me a picket fence and a mortgage payment please, we don’t want this to all be for nothing.

Something To Divulge February 17, 2010

I got my period today. I guess that means im fertile…It also explains how horny i was last week. I honestly thought i would never be in the mood again. Or at least not for a really long time. But you can’t fight nature. Ovulation. Rhymes with masturbation. How fitting.

For some reason I can’t get that song from Grease 2 out of my head:

“Now you see just how the stamen gets its lusty dust onto the stigma.
And why this frenzied chlorophyllous orgy starts in spring is no enigma!

Reproduction, reproduction!
Put your pollen tube to work.
Reproduction, reproduction!
Make my stamen go berserk.

Where does the pollen go?“

Where does it go indeed. Here I am, coming to the end of week 4, pretty sure that I’m officially allowed to have sex again. Not that I have anyone to sleep with…but if i did, what are the rules on this type of thing? Part of me feels like i should restrain myself, be a little tight lipped so to speak.  Is this true? I’ve never really been one for casual sex but two fingers and a good imagination can only get you so far. A person goes long enough without a love interest and the standards start to lower. Before you know it you’re in bed with the karaoke guy. (“well…at least he can sing.” said a text from a friend after explaining why i could NOT meet up for a duet that Thursday)

What is the best thing for my mental well-being? There’s a mix of emotions here; wanting to be touched, to be held, to have someone fuck my brains out, but needing some assurance of respect and good intentions.  Let’s just say i put booty calls aside and wait until I meet someone of significance. Then what? 3 dates? 3 weeks?? 3 months?!?! ….lets not get carried away here. Do I tell him before hand? warn him that I haven’t done this in a while? Or do I hold off sharing until the relationship has reached the point of letting the other in on ones deepest secrets. God forbid the act of penetration releases the tearful flood gates on an unsuspecting member of the male species.

I now have something to divulge. Does this put me at risk of rejection? My roommate says I would never be with someone who isn’t liberal minded anyway so there is no risk. If he disagrees then I don’t want him. Are things really that cut and dry? Something tells me they’re not. I feel like a lot of people are okay with situations such as mine in theory. Things change when your dealing in first person. We hear it all the time, “I’m pro-choice but I could never go through with an abortion myself.” They might not be judging you, but do they still want to love you?

Before this whole thing started I was just coming to terms with my own sexuality. I was feeling my feminine energy take hold and I was enjoying the experience. Sure there was heartbreak and tears and mistakes but overall I was learning. Promiscuity was never my thing but exciting sexual encounters were. These are my university years! At the moment i’m living vicariously but how long will that last? I guess for now I’ll stick to sexting.

February 15, 2010

At sixteen I spent a week in Paris with my German host family. What is a polite Canadian girl to do when approached by a thirty-something French man on the street? Answer his questions, engage in conversation, run across the street when he tries to bring me back to his place or at least get my “address and phone number in Canada, Oui?”

The male gaze. A term that’s only a few years old to me but a concept I (and every woman) have long since understood. It’s been a bad day, you walk down the street carrying groceries unable to even wipe the sweat from your brow. In your own mind your at the peak of unattractiveness and yet that man on the corner – three times your age and half of your visual appeal – finds you good enough to give the old up-down followed by a quick wink before he lets you on your way.

But then there are those other times. Your feeling good, your hair’s done and you’re clothes are fitting just right. As you walk down the street with your head held high you notice broad shoulders and a confident stride coming right at you. The panning gaze gives you a sudden thrill and you turn your head after the pass to make sure he’s still looking. Back at home combing the miss-connections page you wonder what would have happened if he had said hello. I’ll tell you: You look down and quickly walk away.

Listen men, you wanna know why the girls are so cold in this city? Because returning someones smile sometimes means they will FOLLOW YOU HOME! unfortunate but true. If those fifth grade videos taught us anything it was; not to talk to strangers, not to get into anyone’s car, and to “Just say NO” when the creepy neighbor guy wants to touch your ‘private parts’. As women we were also taught not to wear headphones after dark, to go to the washroom in pairs, and to never leave a drink unattended. We text our friends to let them know we made it home safe, we don’t jog alone at night, and we never EVER make eye contact with the guy passing by the bus stop – especially when his jersey hangs past his knees.

I made that fateful mistake last year when i was downtown after dark. Waiting for the streetcar there was a split second of eye contact with the man coming off the subway. Averting my gaze quickly I thought to myself  “don’t look up, don’t look up”. Insert generic thug catcall. I looked up because the comment came about 2 inches from my face and his hand was grabbing my ass while he said it. As quickly as I could spin and yell “Don’t FUCKING TOUCH ME!” He was a quarter block away. He turned back and proceeded to yell, instructing me not to tell him what to do and to suck his cock because i am a hoe/bitch/etc. The bystanders? they stood by. After all, maybe I was this guys hoe and who were they to tell him how to talk to his woman. He left, i shook. I suppose i’m lucky as far as harassment goes. Lucky there were people there to spectate, lucky he didn’t stab me, lucky we weren’t meeting on a side street where he could have taken his time. I wondered if it would have been better for me to say nothing, just let him cop a feel and head on his way. Is silence a better self defense then telling the asshole where to go? I made a mental note to try it out the next time.

So, to the man I offended on my walk home the other day, I’m sorry. My actions were very impolite. When you asked me ‘how’s it going’ the proper thing to do would have been to answer. Unfortunately my gut reaction was to cross the street to the opposite sidewalk and remain a few steps behind you so I could be sure of your direction. You see, I wanted to know which way you were turning so that i could go the opposite. You asked what was wrong with a simple question, again I pretended not to hear you. As if to prove your point you greeted the man crossing our path. “Hello.” he replied and continued on his way. Still I said nothing but i sighed with relief when you turned and headed away from my building. I could try to explain but you probably wouldn’t understand.

Sounds of Silence February 11, 2010

I had my first orgasm when i was 17 in a single bed on the top floor of a frat house. It could have been the hash, it could have been the Phantom of the Opera playing in the background…I suppose it could have been the guy. The emotional trauma that followed ensured it be a moment near impossible to recreate.

Me: post climactic, a virgin in love. Him: Broad shouldered and breathing deeply. For me he was the epitome of masculinity. This was they guy my eyes had been following since i was twelve years old. An encounter the week before had led up to this moment and allowed my daydreams fill with what was to come. He likes me! But earlier that day an unsure comment from a mutual friend cast insecurities over my perfect situation.

I was breathless and wet, still not exactly sure what had just happened, the sudden progress of our ‘relationship’ more overwhelming than i could comprehend. Shaking i watched him reach for the condom, suddenly realizing i was in way over my head. I watched his practiced hands secure the prophylactic and reach for my hips. He looked at me. I froze. “What’s wrong?” he asked. My voice was stuck. I took a deep breath and whispered, “Do you have a girlfriend?” Silence, an outtake of breath, and then, “…Yeah… i do… … … so, do you still wanna do this or…?”

For years he called me ‘kiddo’ and to him i’m sure i was. I was also his best friends ex-girlfriend. Maybe that’s why he chose me, secure in my silence about the whole thing. I wish i could say I freaked out, that i slapped him, or cried, or anything. I had nothing, just silence. We got dressed. In the early morning light i drove the 45 minutes to drop him at his parents house, he worked on weekends and had missed the last bus out of the city. “You’re scaring me.” he said, “I’ve never heard you go this long without saying something.”

This is the silence I have been trying to break for years. If you knew me it would surprise you. I talk. A LOT. and loudly. But there’s something about a soft bed and a dark room and the scent of a man that closes my throat. My head spins but the words wont come out. I’m not sure what causes it…

I didn’t have an orgasm at the hands of another for six years. Mid December 2009, back home for a christmas visit, in bed with an old friend – a new lover. Two weeks since the unfortunate demise of something I thought had real potential I lay in the arms of who has become my long haired self esteem boost. A week earlier – on the other side of the country – the lack of a little blue line had eased my fears. That morning the size of my nipples made me think otherwise. And I came. It was small, but it was. Maybe it was the hormones, perhaps it was the feeling of ease and the knowledge of respect…..i suppose it could have been the guy.

Whats Next? February 1, 2010

For most of my (short) pregnancy I sat at home, cocooned in a blanket on the couch. My days were as follows; Wake up, get dressed while trying not to puke, force myself to eat something, go to class, come home, eat again, cocoon, go to bed as early as justifiable, repeat. I felt like shit and i had nothing to say. For the most part i avoided social situations. At one point what was supposed to be a movie with my roommate turned into a gathering of girls complete with dinner and drinks before hand. I put on makeup, i smiled, i tried my best to participate in conversation…but i didn’t care. How could i talk about grad schools when i wasn’t even sure i could make it through the semester. While the others talked about new boyfriends and old troubles i held back tears; knowing that whenever i am ready to start dating it will never again be free and easy. Not that dating is ever easy..especially in this city.

When i first found out, I was afraid to tell people because of how they might judge me, hold me accountable, or tell me what to do. What i soon realized is that what made it hard wasn’t their attitude towards me as much as the emotional process they each went through while digesting the news. The gasp, the concern in their eyes, the “have you made a decision yet?” and the “are you ok?” Despite their genuine intentions it wasn’t about me, it was about them. I had already thought about all of these things, I had dealt with the emotions. I wasn’t ok, but i knew i would be.

By the end of the night there was only four of us left. I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I blurted it out while we were walking down the street. “How was Europe? And you and the bf are back together? I’m so happy for you. Man it’s cold out. So, I’m pregnant.” The two who didn’t know stopped dead in their tracks. I braced myself for what came next; I answered their questions and eased their minds. With an arm around my back one friend took comfort in the fact that all night she had no idea anything was wrong, “Good for you! I always thought that if it happened to me my world would come crashing down around me, but here you are and everything’s fine.” And that’s what blows my mind. Everything’s fine, nothing has changed.

The thing is, my world DID come crashing down around me, i hid under a blanket while the walls crumbled.When i found the strength to look out of the wreckage the new world looked exactly the same as the old one. Here I am, the lone survivor of my own natural disaster. There are no helicopters bringing me food and water, i have no international news coverage, and nobody is volunteering to stick around until the situation stabilizes. The mess from this type of thing is generally swept under the rug. It makes people uncomfortable.

That’s why i’m here. To make people uncomfortable. I came home the other day and i googled abortion. The results were flooded with pro-life pages filled with lies and messages of fear. I searched through blogs and was confronted with uneducated, ill thought out, right wing/christian/conservatives ranting about murder and sin and responsibility. Their words did not make me feel guilty but i’m sure there’s women out there who read those things and cry, holding their stomach with regret. I know I made the right choice because the moment i woke up in the recovery room i felt the weight lift off my chest.

That’s not to say this whole thing hasn’t affected me. It’s true nothing has changed, but everything is different. And that’s also why I’m here. I don’t know where to go, i don’t know what to think, and i don’t know how to react to whats going on around me. I’m not sure how I got here. As a young woman in this pro-choice post-feminist world what are my options? I grew up being told the world is mine and i can do what i want with it. My experience has been the opposite. So this is my outlet, my train of thought, and the analysis of how i got this far. I hope that somewhere in this process i’ll figure out what’s next.