The anxiety of falling in love

"The anxiety of falling in love could only find repose in bed."
- One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel Garcia Marquez

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I get very anxious when I fall in love.

My stomach churns and I'm often fraught with uneasiness, in between periods of calm serenity. I fear loss, I fear falling adrift. I fear exposure and crave it at the same time.

I once had a lover; he was 55 (I like the old ones), and he had just the remedy for my ambivalence, my swaying on one foot to slip out the door, my restlessness: Fucking me senseless.

Our first night(s) together involved a weekend at his chalet. He fucked me night and day. Eight to ten times a night, and again two or three times in the morning after what might have been a handful of intermittent 45 minute naps to recharge. I remember feeling like he broke me. I felt soft and quaky, but it was different. "I feel so vulnerable," I said. "You can be that way in the right hands," he said.

It continued on like this - we were well matched in our appetites for marathon fucking. After the hours of wild sex passed, I felt reassured and euphoric. If the anxiety would bubble up in me again, I could rest easily in the knowledge that he would flip me over, shove his cock inside me and make me forget about any of it. All I was aware of was the free fall and the sense of being surrounded by his love. A soft, thick intimacy. Such is the power of penetration. And presence.

There's a message in this for the boys: Fuck your women hard and fuck them often. And just to shake them up a bit, be exceedingly gentle, gentler than gentle and watch them come from the brush of your hand.

Photo: Morten Bjarnhof

Gen X Dragon Karaoke

I've written before on the power of music to shift mood, to act as a talisman to bring me somewhere else. When I find something that works, I'll carry it with me everywhere until its value expires. Then I need to go hunting again. I've occasionally had lovers who were music savvy and were constantly introducing me to new sounds. However, since this quality is negotiable in a relationship, I don't always have it. Then I'm forced to go hunting on my own.

I've been tagged now, by both the Reverse Cowgirl and debauchette with the task of revealing my personal music mantras of the moment, so here we go. In the process of tagging and being tagged by some kindred spirits, maybe I'll find more music to love.

"List seven songs you are into right now. No matter what the genre, whether they have words, or even if they’re not any good, but they must be songs you’re really enjoying now, shaping your spring summer. Post these instructions in your blog along with your 7 songs. Then tag 7 other people to see what they’re listening to."

1) A Letter From Home - Ulrich Schnauss. German instrumental composer. Beautiful, lyrical.
2) Paper Planes - MIA. Playful and fun. She really is the cutest little rapstress.
3) Failsafe - The New Pornographers
4) There Goes the Fear - The Doves. A lovely refrain. And I have brown eyes.
5) Surround Me with Your Love - 3-11 Porter. This song was playing while I was wandering in the London Coco de Mer. The "Mental overdrive remix" is the funked up version and it's on the Best of Hotel Costes disc. Achingly beautiful.
6) Dayvan Cowboy - Boards of Canada. I first saw this in a skate video (Eric Koston and Mike Carroll). Skate videos have the best music. Seriously. I'm always amazed to see how they time their tricks to the music in the editing process. Langorously epic.
7) Mexican Radio - Kinky I've linked to the original Wall of Voodoo version as well. Both are crazy and chaotic. Love them.

Now I'm meant to tag seven other people. Who to tag? I'll add more names as I think of them or else I'll feel like the last link in a sonic chain letter. For now though, I invite Noah Kalina and the Mofo to share their current loves.

About this blog

"If I loved you less, I might be able to talk about it more. " - Jane Austen

The things I blog about here are somewhat removed from me. They are still things I love and value, but many things, things close to my heart, I keep closer. I believe that some things are sacred and that to speak of them is to dilute their value. There are echoes and ghosts of my present life in my writing, but I don't speak of them directly.

Raymond Carver titled one of his famous stories, "What we talk about when we talk about love." We talk about slicing onions, planting a garden, the taste of come, the softness of skin. Love is meant to be talked around, not talked about. That's why poetry expresses love best.

I struggled at first with chronicling my "6" adventures because they are meaningful to me. They are the story of my sexual opening, of me coming into my femininity and my self. In the end, I decided I wanted the challenge of conveying the depth of those experiences and hopefully blowing away some BSDM stereotypes in the process.

So here I overshare and I undershare.

What I enjoy reading and writing is depth. Beauty. Depravity and all the poetry within that, artfully revealed. I like witty irreverence and learning something about the world and myself. What's most fun is something that's delivered well, but without a lot of editing. There's a free flow, a spontaneity and uncensored feeling to it that allows some deeper truth to shine through.

That's what I'm working on.


Photo: Mary McCartney via