He Had Decided to Go Driving - Short Fiction

He had decided to go driving.  

She had just started to make the sounds of sleep, when he rose up to the side of the bed. Sitting up, he tried to see things from all points of view, while knowing that he was tainted by selfish motivation.  

She said that she adored and loved him.  She said that what they had should not be taken for granted. She was sweet and sincere when she held unto his arm, in a moment of clarity perhaps.  But even before she came down that past Sunday, he felt the difference.  She had mentioned that she would be coming late Sunday night and maybe they should meet up Monday.  He had poo poo’d it, telling her it would be no trouble, but he tucked the memory of her words into the back of his mind, just the way he shouldn’t.

He remembered the last time she had come up for a week. That hadn’t gone well.  In fact, she later admitted that she had delayed their seeing each other again for many months because that visit.  That was another thing he had remembered and put into the back of his mind.  Other contents included Sunday night when she would barely kiss him or touch him because she had just been driving for eight hours and felt “blah.” Last night, she had made plans with her friends and called him to tell him that she would be out till around 2pm.  Thinking that he would rather avoid his jealous behavior last time he waited up for her at the hotel, he thought perhaps he’d go home and occupy his time with other things.

She asked if he was mad, which he understood, but as he told her, he wasn’t.  He was sad. Not at her or her friends, not even at the fact that she would invariably come home drunk and silly and flirty, promising amorous thoughts that would die in his head when she became ill or sick from her night out.

Tonight, she admitted that, at week before her period, she was not feeling up to the stress of being physical.  But he didn’t just want sex. He could live without the sex. He didn’t want to, but he could deal with it. It was the intimacy that he craved.  The touch of her skin against his, her hands in his hair, her silliness and sweetness, the way she scratched his skin or rubbed his feet,  the way she rolled her eyes.  These little moments that seemed so trivial were held like precious items in the front of his mind. They gave him the strength to march against the inertia of each work day.  They allowed him to wait for the next time, which more often than less, would be months from now.

After he had showered, he rubbed the hotel’s fancy orange scented crème on his arms and chest.  He liked the smell.  Lying in bed with her, she wrapped herself in his left arm and spooned against him.  He asked her if she like the way he smelled. Turning on her stomach, she looked up at him through hair now covering her face. She smiled. It smelled good.  She turned to him and embraced him.  Little kisses made way to more passionate ones.  Within moments her naked legs were wrapped around his hairy limbs. They were back there, where he knew what to do, where he wasn’t an ass, where he felt clear joy and love. She still loved him. He could feel it.

She started to panic.  Her breath felt labored.  She gently pushed away from him and told him she needed to breath.  She sat up.  He tried to rub her back, but she gently asked him to give her some space.  After a few minutes she got up and went to the bathroom to get some water.  He turned his back to her to give her some space and to feel sorry for himself at least a little bit.  

When she laid back down, he asked her if she was okay, not just because he meant it, but also because he didn’t want her to mistake his recoil for rejection.  She murmured something back and he thought about those brief seconds when he was holding her.  He thought about how she mentioned at dinner that she liked to keep their worlds separate, that he would hate her friends and she would hate his.  He wondered whether they both wanted the same things from each other.  She already had a child who needed constant affection from her.  She was reckless in ways he would never be and he was aimless in ways she didn’t understand.  

So many reasons none of this should be happening.  But he didn’t want to give up those moments.  He wanted so much to build a life around those moments.  He let himself be angry that she was sleeping at 10PM but would spend the next night up with her friends until 2.  He stood up, picked up his pants and a shirt.  He went out in search of cigarettes and wisdom.

I've woke up to the new world... I believe I've been here before.. I play the fool here correct?

The rain came down last night in Boston, sometimes very hard. It meshed with the slush and ice to create a treacherous sidewalk path.


After getting out of practice with the band, I was exhausted.. coming home, sliding & slipping up my stairs. ripping wet clothes off, wrapping up in my terrycloth robe.. was both comforting & reflective. It was a long day, where people told me things that only now surfaced.

Like a bear defeated by winter, I slumped into bed, unlike a bear, I grabbed my mp3 player to listen to Cuba Libre by Elmore Leonard.

I then find myself in the waking world of Sunday morning, 37 degrees & rising, finally a day of melting..
melting snow revealing the forgotten world beneath, like my driveway or the things she told me yesterday..
So I'm typing to sort, to express.. typing into twitter is like conversing with a mirror, other than sharing links & flirting does anyone other than the author really absorb the whole message?

I love the song "Sunday Morning" by the Velvet Underground because it so encapsulates the most revealing moment in the week. Sunday Morning is the time when you can look around you and see what your life is.
Whatever you work for, whatever you spend the rest of your week fighting for, I hope its lying next to you right now or nearby.

I woke up Sunday morning without her, but I did have my cool mp3 player packed with Elmore Leonard books and Nina Simone albums.

So that's what I got right now, Elmore Leonard & Nina Simone... and I guess you build from there? (could be worse) ;)

Soulmate Illusion?

Everyone is alone, whether you enjoy multiple relationships or are monogamous. The big difference to me how modern people act in relationships. While we have much more freedom and more communication than in the near past, we are more passive in making these relationships work.

We find someone, we engage, we find problems, we feel demystified and letdown my reality, we pull out and move one.

We experience our lovers as if we are each movie patrons, the relationship either pleases us or doesn't. We are not actively making the plot better, just judging it, as if we expect magic.

But good relationships are not just chemistry and magic and we can't expect to find soulmates without the belief and need to have them.

If you don't believe in a soulmate, if you don't believe in one person satisfying your need for connection and intimacy, and if you don't actively work with that person to keep that, I don't think it's very possible to find one.

I have been alone for 2 years after a love affair that shook me deeply. She was my soulmate, the chemistry was effortless, but the rest was not easy. We didn't make it, but not because we failed to deeply love each other.

I have found someone new. We have a very deep connection. I can tell you that logistically, if we end up together it will be because we made it work. It will be a hard job to accomplish, but it will be satisfying.

The Dilution of the Diva

I am far from saying that building ones ego is a bad thing. Forced conceit is sometimes the only ego one may be able to muster. If you can use that as a basis for something more healthy, like a crew that holds up your timber as you secure it with a power drill, more power to you. Build a self who has self love. Share and be outward to others in your confidence. As long as it doesn't become negative, it may help you.

But don't call yourself a "Goddess" or a "Diva." You undercut the words. Diva once meant the one pinnacle star, the one true "Artiste" of female singers. It was a term, both cast in love and scorn on those striving for perfection in the Operatic scene. It comes with heaps of luggage, royal levels of self-involvement and the constant challenge to defend your greatness.

To use this word for less, is both sad and unsuccessful. Are you a Diva? Do you truly mean to cast yourself in this light? Are you proud if people consider you upon a pedestal? Woman who need to be worshiped need to ask themselves why?

Why do you need to put yourself on such a throne? Does the need for adoration really mark a healthy sense of self? Does labeling yourself a goddess, if you do sincerely, really attach more meaning to your life?

I know I seem a bit mean, but that's not my intent. As I stated earlier, I understand the need to build ones ego. My only concern lies in what you don't see. Healthy people, with well balanced egos, see the self adornment of luxurious adjectives and imaginary thrones as the weakness you think it hides. You are the naked emperor on the march through the town, and that boy who points out the truth may only be blocks away.

Femininity is a powerful thing. A strong and wonderful force that you wield. But the true Diva or Goddess does not need to self declare. With my heart open, please don't live your life on throne to protect your ego and if you do come down into the village to meet with us commoners naked, let it be with the naked glory of true love for yourself. You will impress us with your humble strength and femininity, much more than with words that have been diluted and separated from the power they once held.

What makes us Whores or Angels?

I was reading Liz Doherty's blog here.

She asks the question :

"Would you form a relationship with a woman who’d slept with 100 men?"

Liz apparently communicates with folks over Craigslist and the blogs about the responses. I find this very interesting.

"I posed this question to those reading the Women Seeking Men board this morning, and received some provocative responses (and a bunch of stupid ones). 

As you know if you’ve read much of this blog, I have had sex with far more than 100 men, but feared the responses might be colored by my real number."

To her surprise, people were very sportive and affirming. I have been on Twitter in my second "sweet caveman" identity now for some time. I'll be honest. I created the account simply to have fun and connect to people in a completely free manor. To free myself from my name. I do see a lot of affirming communications as well, but recently I have begun to see something more disturbing. 

I see people emotionally very hurt. Wounded. Some are wrapped up in their self, juggling many partners (real or vitual) with narcissism and a lack of clarity or sense of self. 

I started to think about the fact that few people take a moderate stance on sexual freedom. The line seems drawn between prudes and perverts, angels and whores, suppression and explosion.

I began to write a comment on Liz's post and in writing it I decided to start this blog.

My comment is below:

There is a wonderful "free" aspect of sexual freedom that people experience today, but there is a deep sadness as well.

The casualness of sex allows us to explore and find our joys, but it can also allow us to separate emotions from the experience.

I guess people are wired differently or become de-sensitized. Still, many people I know who need "open relationships" or secret ones seem just as unhappy as those stifled in claustrophobic marriages.

Personally, I need my own space and time for myself, but I prefer monogamy.

Perhaps because I consider myself empathetic, I connect closely to the emotions and reactions of my lovers. It is important to me. A slight, almost tickling of a finger drawing on her body or mine is more powerful than dripping candles.

So when you ask would you consider being involved with a woman who has been with over 100 men, the question I think of is "what has that done to her?"

Has that made her desensitized to intimacy? To real connection? Has it been a great experience of life which leaves her knowing better how to express and accept another while in convergence?

Some people who have large numbers of casual sex partners tend to be looking for something other than emotional fulfillment.

A dear friend who has finally found the man she loves is desperately unhappy. He injured himself and is unable to completely fulfill her needs. He's not unable to please her, but she is used to more Olympic levels of physical pleasure and she admits that she spent her life relating sexually without cultivating sensuality. Now, when she needs it, when she needs to use her brain as a sexual organ, she can't. I am so sad for her.

I spent a part of my life devouring women with the intent of glorious climax and the joy of power. I remember few of them more fondly then I did lovely meals or nights drinking with friends.

The women that stole my heart made sex profound for me. Opened up the inner energy.. Made me feel sex as animal grunting, nature's force and yet also deep personal connection. Being inside her because it's the ultimate connection, grunting like a beast, but profoundly aware of the emotional bridge.

These relationships changed me. Some were short, some were long. All were important.

So the question I have is simple. After over a 100 different sexual partners, where is this person? Are they lost inside the desire to please themselves? Are they a generous and open lover? Are they deeply damaged? Are they deeply balanced?

The real implication of the word whore or player is the separation of sex from sensuality or emotion.  In those terms we've all been whores, but I'm glad I am no longer.

I really hope you find what you want. FWB isn't ever going to be it, at least not for me.

Be well,

-Spenser



lizdoherty
Spenser, thank you for your thoughtful response. While I have indeed slept with hundreds of men, almost all have been in my pursuit of an LTR. Not everyone will believe that, but I restrict my play to single men (just in case), to well hung men (just in case), to smart men (just in case) and to attractive men (just in case). The possibility that a hot connection could turn into more is what drives my sexual seeking. Were I to find my next life partner through a hot casual connection, I would be thrilled. Twice I have been close, and once I fell in love with a casual connection. My book will tell more about this experience.


I was married for twenty years, and am confident in my ability to maintain an intimate relationship over time. I am adamant that my next relationship have great sexual chemistry at its core. My marriage lacked that, while being satisfying in many other ways. But that is/was not enough for me.


Please feel free to comment again, or to email me at liz.doherty@hotmail.com if you’d like to chat more. I found your new blog, but didn’t see a place to become a subscriber.


Again, thank you.


Spenser
Liz,

Thanks for your response. I think you can subscribe. I moved it to the top so it’s more obvious.

I certainly am not one to judge you or anyone. I don’t think there are any rules. Some people thrive more on personal connections then pure sexual connection.. I’m probably more of that type since I have been with many different types of women. To be honest, two have been married, although one was married only in name and the spouse knew and consented and the other, didn’t tell me until after the fact. Not a good place to be regardless

I would say that what attracts me most is always intelligence and sensuality, but honestly some have been more beautiful and some less, at least outwardly. . Some have been curvaceous, some slim, some with ample breasts, some small… many shapes sizes and ethnic makeups. There is always something that draws me in, but I’m not always expecting it.

I don’t think that I could check off the criteria as easily as you have above, but perhaps men are easier to do that with. I find a lot of beauty in women and one of the wonderful things about women is that femininity is cast in so many lovely combinations.

I’ve been with just over 50 women, but I can say that 14 of those were true attempts to build something. My admittingly out of context reaction to your statement that you had 3 truly romantic connections after hundreds of intimate relationships is one of slight shock. Those don’t seem very good numbers if your goal is LTR. Do you consider those odds successful?

When I was younger and more impetuous, I saw a woman who I wanted and the magic was in the taking. The seduction, the victory of her giving herself to me and the sweet release of using her body to give myself pleasure. I know I sound like a first class wimp, but now, I truly am turned on more from the affection and connection. The ability to merge these with my animal needs and hers is a fantastic feeling. If anything I feel more animal, more primitive and more aroused by this.

I know I cum a lot harder then I used to.

I completely agree that sexual chemistry is tantamount. My only point is that sexual chemistry isn’t like blood type. You aren’t assigned a particular profile. Like all other parts of your body, sexuality is honed, directed or left to atrophy. Your mind, your emotion, sensuality all have strong connections to it, unless those connections are not practiced.

Theologists talk of modern spirituality as the “salad bar religion”, where we choose what we want to believe and then in deciding we become god for ourselves. In that decision, we limit ourselves from truly finding truth. (I’m Agnostic, but I always thought that was an interesting point).

I think that modern sexuality could be similar. We choose that which we want to believe, we select and control who we interact with from the start. In doing so, we take so much control of our intimacy, we extract ourselves from nature, from the random instinctual sexual lusts that we come from.

Could we be limiting ourselves? Could we be designing our lovers instead of finding them? I think if and when you truly want LTR, you should consider what you can do to bring your odds into a more favorable percentage than 1%.