Pussy Control

Lord, I have a friend…. a friend who confesses that he wants to wine me and dine me, give me the full on romantic treatment. He says he was dead wrong. Wrong because he saw me for the longest while, but never really saw me and now he ‘sees me’. He says he is determined to change that. He wants to get to know me better. He says he won’t stop until I am his.

Now, let me not be ungrateful. I am happy and not resistant to his overtures. It’s just the combination of Robbie last year, and Sweet Thing this year, I’ve been on emotional lock down for almost two years. Right now, all I want to do is see what is out there. I want to experiment with new approaches to relationships, because what I have been doing hasn’t worked. I just can’t do what I have been doing. It hasn’t been working.

I want to sample that kind of attention from as many different men as I can without giving up the booty. I want to conduct an experiment in pussy control….. You know, lack of this has gotten me into hot water and relationships that go nowhere and don’t serve my needs and you know, I’m going to be thirty soon, I don’t think I can afford to fuck around — no pun intended — any more.

I had promised myself a few years back that I was never going to just take the first man that comes along, not just fall in with the next man that presented himself. It’s not that these are bad guys, but it’s part of the reason why halfway down the road I realise that this guy and I are not compatible in enough ways to make the relationship work. Or, I fall in love and he turns into Mr Emotionally Incapable.

I have made the mistake of allowing good sex to distract me, or to have a real interesting brain confuse my sex issues (as in the sex was less than lovely) and had to deal with the emotional amoebas or the emotional gang busters….  good grief… it’s like a soap opera my love life.

I think I’d like to spend a long time getting to know someone, take my time and really find out what it is that I want, what I am looking for in a man. I’ve said this so often in the last five years, yet it’s a plan I can’t seem to put into motion.

I’ve been stuck in this place where every man I come to deal with is sent by God to teach me a lesson and I am responsible for being understanding and forgiving and noble and all this bullshit that equates with me left holding the shitty end of the stick.

It’s not that I am going to change my fundamental nature, I’ll just be damned if anyone is getting the better of me again and no one is getting my best without proving themselves worthy again.

The thing is with me, is that I make these promises to myself and then a particular guy will come along and I think, okay I’ll make an exception and I end up making excuses for their bad treatment of me, for their weak, punk-ass behaviour. I think I have a martyr syndrome. I think I somehow owe them all my understanding and forgiveness because isn’t that what unconditional love is about.

I make excuses for the liars, the one’s who tell me their last girlfriend and them are done, only to find out later that it’s not quite done, in fact, it’s still in progress.  That was not like years ago, that was this year. I’m still reeling from that one. I am convinced I was a heartbreaker in another life, that I toyed with lovers and this is why I am so moved to act in an honourable fashion now. I must have hurt alot of people, because let me tell you, they’re all settling up in this life.

That said, I really am realising that I have to toughen up. I think my Beautiful Mathematician did something to me… I think that when I fall in love, it should be like that… somehow simple and complete and inescapable, something soft and sweet and hard all at the same time. I don’t know, you know, it’s been thirteen years since I fell in love like that. I don’t know if it’s going to or supposed to happen that way anymore. i think I need to learn how to get over it and him, yet that soft, sweet spot seems incapable of growing any kind of scales or protective shielding. Why is that?

I am so soft when it comes to people, let me be honest, men mostly, these days. I used to be tough, I used to be able to to tell someone to fuck off when they fucked up and not blink twice because I was real in touch with my sense of anger.

A few years back, a seer said it to me during the reading, “Girl, you can be hard on people. You carry in people scruffy when you ready.”

I replied, “Only when they deserve it.”

Maybe since then I have made an effort to be understanding and forgiving and what has happened is that too many people have taken my kindness for weakness. When I say people, of course I am still talking about men. Notice I ain’t mentioning a soul by name. I just want you to be aware that I know I have been making this mistake over and over and this is of course the hardest lesson to learn. How to keep some of myself back.

So now, I think the pendulum is on it’s way back in the opposite direction. I hate to say it, but Ms Independent is in the house and well in touch with her inner bitch. No I don’t think I hate to say it, it’s survival baby, survival.

I don’t want to say that I am closing off my life and heart, because fi real, don’t misinterpret; I actually am going out and doing some real experimentation.

Moving to Trinidad taught me some things, but  among them is that setting a goal and seamlessly integrating it into your world philosophy, is the only way you can get things done.

That’s always been the thing with me and men, the goals and the principals I say I am about, get lost in this mist of wanting to be supportive and a healing experience, because I am so conscious and aware of the kind of world African-descended males are living in, I just don’t want to lump them all together and treat them all as one man, the same man. To me that’s making a real mistake by underestimating all that is glorious about them. It’s their crystallised fear, hard and diamond-like that makes it hard to heal when all you sustain are wounds and little healing in return.

So this guy would come along, he makes a move, I make a move and all these principles kind of get lost somewhere in there complete and total fear of being with me. Isn’t that karma too? To consistently attract the kind of man who thinks I am wonderful, and find me good enough to have sex with, but when it comes to the real nitty gritty, they suddenly get paralysed with all these fears based on their passed experience with women. Suddenly, I am made  to pay for all these perceived hurts that are so deep, that they can’t even face the possibility of real life with me.

Since my beautiful Mathematician, all the men who fall completely in love with me, are the ones who are not what I would consider to intellectually stimulating. I am willing to try to work it out with them, but I find that without the intellectual stimulation, or the prudish unwillingness for sexual experimentation (something I personally think I have encountered far too often) has left me unable to connect to them emotionally because they can’t seem to step beyond their safe little borders.

The ‘smart ones’ seem to realise they are out of their depth early on and flee….

Every attempt at translating even mediocre sex into something more, somehow turns into these frigid places where either the intellectual aspect, or the emotional aspect, gets into this exaggerated place and all or most of the other areas breaks down.

I am somehow always waiting for someone to ignite me on all levels someone that can take heat the way I take heat, because we are both creatures of fire.

Am I really that scary as an individual?

Or is it merely karmic balance that I attract cowards that flee from my fearlessness?

I am nothing but open and fair, willing to work it out no matter the conditions and I end up with either physically or emotionally frigid men. All the things that they think is great about me BEFORE we have sex, are the things that really seem to scare the shit out of them AFTER we have sex.

I know I am not alone. All kinds of women go through this shit.

The fellas I fall in love with, end up with women less intimidating. Either women who aren’t as pretty, or women who are less cerebral, or women who are emotionally vacant in one way or another. They all remember me, and they tell me later that they miss me or regret what they did and express concern for my well being after. Even during the whole experience, most of them are quite clear in telling me they think I’m too good for them. It’s never me, they say, it’s just that they can’t handle me right now.

My Beautiful Mathematician, now married with two children, still sends me e-mails proclaiming his undying love and real regret about us, and his wish for us to continue to be friends and let me tell you, my love for him still runs so deep, that I cannot deny his request. I am also filled with regret and my love remains undying. The lessons were too deep to forget.

I have more stories like that than I wish to tell.

What are they saying, I’m too good for them, but the women they choose are not? So some other woman deserves their not-good-enough for me selves? What does that mean? That the only kind of relationship they can handle is one that is less of a challenge? That the only women they can handle are women who are inferior to them or more to the point, ME in some way? How fucked up is that?

My friend Dawnay told me once, “Look for a lion to mate your lioness.”

What is with this deep-seated cowardice?

I think my independence is scary. I think the depth of my spiritual, political, ideological approach to my life is scary. I think that my drive and ambition for growth and progress is scary. I think the fact that I can take care of myself is scary because it requires them to be able to take care of themselves and to be progressive and to grow and they simply never seem to be ready for that. It’s too scary.

Men’s identities are tied up with their ability to provide, and because me being quite capable of providing for myself and treating me like an equal is so frightening, because why, the one’s I’ve been fucking around with, are like what, not equal to me?

The other thing is, I really do believe you attract people that reflect your own emotional capacities. So what does that really say about me?

Am I choosing the less that bright one’s because they aren’t a challenge, and I know I can never fall in love with them, or am I falling love with these intellectual and creative guys because their emotional capacity is stunted.

Life presents me with its wounded, its fear-filled African Princes in Hiding, and I guess part of my karma is merely be a planter of seeds and continuing to try. Except I think I really need to learn how to be mysterious and hold back.

I think I need to learn how to reveal a little at a time instead of giving everything away because someone shows up, and is willing to climb the long stairs into my bower. I recognise this pattern. Not just that, I think I know the pattern too well to keep making the same mistake; it’s just once too often now.

So now I am going to make a few experiments in Pussy Control. Maybe this is a change I need to make, maybe it’s an exercise in alternate approaches to one of my problems, I am thinking outside my box.

Long live Prince… my hero.

So come on boys, wine me, dine me. These days, I am going to force myself to not be so willing to make excuses for shit. Ya slip, ya slide. I won’t be taken for granted and if you think I am great, show me how great YOU are. Do it as a consistent pattern of behaviour, that’s I think all that will convince me that love and devotion is real and that’s what is intended.

I want intimacy without sex. I want emotional connections fuelled by intellectual stimulation. I want a commitment based on similar ideals and I don’t want to have to fundamentally compromise my identity to do it.

This is why Pussy Control is not about the man see, it’s about me; it’s about building a relationship with myself, I have to learn to trust myself and my instincts again. Pussy Control is about me knowing for sure that I am not just someone’s unending regret about the road not taken. It’s about making sure that what I want, is what I get.

Pussy Control, it’s about controlling the conduit my children my Ancestors use to come into this world. I want to allow the really special, strong souls that will advance our people and life on this planet in some positive way, to come through me and the strength of the union of physical bodies with spirit and soul and mental.

One of the promises I have made to myself and kept is that I wanted my children to come into a really strong emotional connection. I want that for them so they can benefit from strength of a foundation so deep, it gives them the kind of power that is going to be needed in the world during the years coming.

I want intelligent, brilliant children and I know it’s not the kind of human that comes into quick couplings and base expression, mockingly fear-filled interactions. Those are the fractures that often ingrain the characters of children and 80 per cent of the reasons why the world is the way it is. I am a flawed human being, but I know I am going to do something great in my life. I know it, I am a good person and I am par for the course.

That is also what Pussy Control is about for me.

It just so happens that my pussy is physically strong. The muscles in it, although I don’t really exercise them the way those Kegel people say you should, have strong contractual ability. Almost every lover I have had has made the same comments, and it’s with only a small step into pride, that I report that that they say it in amazement. It’s something that I am both in control of and not in control of when I am having sex.

You’ve been reading, you know, I told you my pussy has a mind of it’s own and it never listens to the rest of me.

Sweet Thing said to me once, looking down in my lap out of the corner of his eye, “That is going to get you a husband one day.”

I laugh at that now.

Maybe he’s right, but I don’t think that’s going to be the only reason, because by the time we get to that part, a lot of other shit is going to go down and you know the sex will merely be the icing on the cake.

My strong spirit, strong mind and my strong heart are going to have to start controlling my my strong pussy. (Was that too much? HAHA!)

So my friend who wants to wine and dine me, well I like him, I think he’s cute and all, and sure we can go out. We’ll see how it goes, I think I need to take a break from the whole pussy-gone-wild phase.

It’s not like I haven’t made intimate friends with celibacy. I’ve gone two years without sex. (TRUTH!!) I may not like it, but I think I am willing to do it again, because it was a break that allowed me to grow as an individual and I learnt a lot about myself.

So let me so what life sends me now. Possibly a whole person? Can I be a whole person looking for and finding a whole person?

I say, LONG LIVE Pussy Control.

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thegoddessroom

The Vault

sungoddess

mermaid, dayo's mama, water priestess, writer, web developer, omo yemoja, dos aguas, obsessive reader, sci-fi fan, trini-bajan, combermerian, second life, music, music, music!