August 3, 2016 at 5:08 pm (Edit)
I apologize for leaving the curt comment. You didn’t do anything to deserve it. I just got tired of hearing about how your basic needs weren’t being met. Raven comes across as fairly heartless sometimes, and I’ve grown to loathe her through your blog.
I also don’t understand how she can neglect her sexual needs, and yours as well. Since it seems like a celibate relationship not a romance. Unless, you’re choosing not to talk about that intimate aspect. It’s obvious that she has desires, though, so why won’t she share them with you? Maybe it’s all part of her controlling nature, and she doesn’t want to give in to baser impulses. Unfortunately, you’re the one suffering from her lack of amorous attention. I hope that things work out, because it’s clear that you’re committed to Raven forever.
Hi there, Jess. 🙂 i appreciate your reply and questions. The truth is that she is fairly heartless, at times. i don’t think she means to be-but neither just she necessarily intend to do anything different, even when i’ve made it plain that what is going on is hurting me.
i don’t know what motivates her to not be willing to discuss her sexual feelings with me. All i know is that we had occasional-but very good, if different (for me)-sex. It was less animal act, more union of souls than anything else i’d ever known.
And then it was gone.
Yes, she is that controlling-clearly-because i’ve been kept celibate for years now. She claims disinterest-not in me-but in sex. It has caused me to have feelings of rejection, low self esteem, confusion, and a loss of being connected (to her, and to me). She does experience feelings of passion for me but they are relegated to being on her terms entirely. i can’t touch her in lots of way. She is most interested in expressing passion via S/m, which a part of why the lack of that (too) bothers me. i didn’t sign up for a celibate life, or a life without S/m, but it happened after becoming her slave-so i don’t have rights, self-determination, agency, or the psychological or physical ability to do anything about it.
What it does is remind me strangely of life when i was kidnapped by a former partner and raped every day-in that i lost any concept of agency over my own sexuality. If that had not happened to me, i don’t think i would have been able or willing to deal with this. But my walls for self agency, being able to control my own sexual responses or needs, and so on were already gone. As bad as that was (the intimate partner rape) this is often worse because of the damage to my self esteem. i knew that other thing wasn’t about me and it hurt me far less. It was one of the ways that Dawn could not control her reactions to me, and in a life punctuated by constant physical abuse and being held against my will-it felt perversely good to be sexually desired in a way that a person could not turn off.
i am not advocating rape at all, but am trying to communicate something for which i don’t have adequate language.
Muscle memory is built, and it informed me that i had no right to determine anything sexually going on, and that my body could be forced to climax.
This is just the reverse of that-but i was raised in a culture where sex is shorthand for love, for passion, and was a major way that i was able to communicate well. i have a sense of grief for having lost those things-feeling loved, desired, passion, communication, and just the joy of release itself.
The other day, we were in the car with someone talking about an animal physical attraction to someone, and i closed my eyes and tried to remember what that felt like-the sheer joy of being a woman, of knowing my cunt had power, of knowing i could cause that kind of reaction.
Then i was innocently looking at littles pages on tumblr, just messing around, and it went from happy pink bedrooms to a couple fucking. Hard. Fast. Passionately.
And i started crying.
It should be such a simple thing. It was before for me, as i never had a problem initiating or being aggressive or being turned on by making someone react to me.
i have wondered a million times what i did wrong, and the only thing i know is it wasn’t the sex itself-but maybe more about my comfort in going after what i want, asking for it, showing joy with her dick down my throat and inside me. Maybe i should have pretended to not care. We have tried to talk, tried therapy, tried a million ways to communicate on the topic. i have made it clear that i’m always clean, shaved, won’t reject her. i sent pictures. i look at my own body as if it was a stranger and see beauty there. But its not enough. i’m not enough.
Her own position is clearly that i’m not worth making changes for because no promises for sex, or S/m-well, it just doesn’t change, no matter the harm to me-or us.