Gulp

I've rather proudly held the title of Blowjob Queen for several years now. Most of my friends know this, and one of my ex's still manages to throw in the occasional joke about it from time to time. Every dude whose dick has been in my mouth has given me accolades on my performance, and this further reinforces the enjoyment I already derive from the act.

Furthermore, I'm quite lucky to be dating the most enthusiastic, persistent, and talented pussy munchers I have ever been with. He's even bossy about it: ohmigod, pleeaase stick that pussy in my face because I NEED it.

In many ways, this is a sexual match made in heaven. We both have strong oral fixations coupled with hard-earned talents. There's just one problem: he is more into imbibing female fluids than I am into male fluids. Considering my enthusiasm for cocksuckery, he finds this baffling; I find it normal.

I wish I felt the same way he does; I feel guilty that I don't. And I don't know how to fake it. Dan Savage would probably scold me. I'm all about being GGG, and I've done things out of my comfort zone. But I'm not sure what to do about this one.

The only explanation I have is the fact I was randomly exposed to porn at a relatively young age (10, 11'ish). I've probably seen a bit too much male-oriented stuff, and I think seeing one too many messy endings with the girl obviously pretending to be into it created a turn-off. If porn creates and reinforces turn-on's, then it can do the same for turn-off's.

Or is this just the lesbian in me drawing the line? Perhaps that's too convenient of an excuse for someone with a dual identity. I don't know. Either way, some compromises are in order.

Bitchy

I had some issues with the whole idea of a threesome that I discussed with boyfriend. I kind of let the bitchy lesbian in me come out for a few minutes. I voiced how I'm not terribly into the idea of being with a girl as means to the end of turning on a guy.

Like, lesbians exist for pleasing each other. It's sort of an anti-cock act (at least in my mind), and having it be something to do for a guy's pleasure just screams cock always wins in the end to me.

His response was that this goal is most certainly not all about him, and he was aiming for everyone to benefit (both emotionally and physically) from this situation. He had stated all of this to me before, and he is quite the reciprocal, talented, patient, and orally-fixated lover (I really hit the jackpot in this department). But I still had to let the raging dyke in me say her piece. And I feel better.

On a related note, I tried to use youtube for scratching my itch for Xena. I figured it was easier and more dignified than digging out my tapes from, er, 10 years ago. And most of the results are of Xena and Gabrielle kissing.

Of course. The truth is that both characters were bisexual. And they actually did shit besides each other. Like unrealistically kick a profuse amount of ass and change history while prancing around in skimpy outfits. Jeez. What a buncha perverts.

In my experience, straightness generally does win in the end. Deep down, this still hurts a soft spot in me. Ironically, however, my own actions prove this point: I'm in a heterosexual relationship, and I'm generally happier when I'm into guys and more in touch with my feminine side. If you can't beat em', join em'? Does it have to be a competition?

But I find my own hypocrisy bothersome on some level. Consequently, I find little ways to blow off steam about it (e.g. stating how icky I find purses to be, recoiling at being described as "straight," etc.)

I can't say I feel distressed or divided about this as much as I used to though. Partly because I have more pressing things to be concerned with. And few people are one-sided and free of contradictions. And the people who are could probably best be described as "boring." So I'm happy to ride this dichotomy for as long as it wants.

Disappearing Act

I've been having Xena cravings lately. I keep trying to deny them, but they won't go away. She's so strong, and watching her is regressively theraputic and inspiring. It appeals to the archetypical desire for a hero one can identify with.

I want to be stronger than I am. Mentally more so than physically (although it's kind of sad that I need boyfriend to open cans for me). I'm realizing that, while I have come so far in building up psychological strength, I still have so much more growing that I want and simply need to do. I need to internally subert all external attempts to make me an unhappy, brainwashed pawn. I need to develop more constructive thinking patterns.

I feel like I'm disappearing both physically and mentally. I spend too much time catering to others. I'm tired of having other people's voices in my head telling me what to do, what to like, and how to present myself. I just want to relax and be without worrying about keeping up appearances for some other trying to use me for something.

I also found out that I weigh the least I have ever weighed as an adult. I didn't even notice until the numbers made it undeniably clear. I guess life has been too consuming for me to tune into such a drastic change in my own place of residence.

Something's gotta give. I'm the only one who can make it happen. I may never be able to go through life without being punished for everything, and I may not have much time for all the things I want to do. But I'll be damned if I let this crap make me mentally stagnate into a reactionary victim.

Locked

One: I'm starting to feel the desire for female affection come back. I knew it would return. I'm lucky to be with someone that I can talk about it with.

Two: Boyfriend was saying how, as a male, it can get tiring to always be the one on the offensive. When he said that, I made a mental note to try to be more of an initiator. But even when I want to be more aggressive, I find myself a bit frozen, and I hold back.

I'm not like this 100% of the time, and I've had several instances of attacking various people, but it's sort of a default for me to be passive. I'm discovering it's harder to shake than I expected. Stupid unconsciously acquired gender roles.

Three: I want to fuck this singer's voice, as Dan Savage would say.

Four: In this post, I was complaining about some gross blonde chick working at the health foods store I frequent. Well now there's a super cute one working there. Translation: I'm afraid of making eye contact with her. She pulls off this sexy semi mohawk without looking obnoxiously punk'ish or stereotypical. I wanna play with it.

Five: Wahhhh! I'm shy! Wahhh! I'm used to be chased rather than doing the chasing.

Six: Health foods store that I freqent is hiring. Perhaps this is a second chance.

"Stop listening to the static."

I could easily whip up another analyzing gender identity-typa post in 30 minutes tops, but I'm not feeling it.

The importance of mental clarity has been dawning on me quite clearly these past few weeks. I may be a nutrition nut, but I'm really seeing how unhealthy it can be to allow some greasy thinking patterns to clog the walls of my consciousness.

I could be on a vegan diet free of gluten, sugar, and most allergens, but if I'm thinking crap, then I might as well be eating McDonald's three times a day.

This week I remembered what it feels like to truly hate someone. They were going out of their way to intentionally attack me and all of the hard work I've put into [successfully] reaching several challenging personal goals. I rarely feel this emotion in a serious way. I can usually muster up some compassion for the people who aggravate me; I don't even hate any of the few people on my "Dead to Me" list. I make the effort to see the gray areas with people.

But I keep feeling overpowered by a pure, black hatred. I find myself hoping that they will leave existence Forever. I guess we all have our thresholds.

Many people who claim to love you really just need you to be something that you're not. They need you to be what they want, and they often claim that their happiness is dependent upon you changing to meet their impossible fantasies. It's very rare to find someone who wants you to be you all the time.

Furthermore, they will impose the opaque image they have already drawn up of me directly over the reality of me; it is largely independent of what I do. So while it might be difficult to be misunderstood, it is pointless to try to be understood.

In spite of how trapped and discouraged I feel, I can't let things bother me so much. I am what I think; I am how I react. I need to make my mind my own work of art that I work on every waking minute of the day. Because it's my mind, and no one else and no other external circumstance has the right to infiltrate it without my permission.