I always thought my writing raw and vulnerable, sometimes shocking in its candor. But a link from a friends’ blog lead to words about human contact, touch and the fear or lack of it that startled even me. In reading this beautiful woman’s words, and subsequent brave comments, my first reaction was how sad to desire something so much and not allow it to unfold. Didn't realize how many don't know how to.
Often, one can feel like the oddball, without the Batman decoder ring, a beat behind. Emotion, behavior, lack of social savvy, sexuality, connection and companionship create questions and concerns about what’s lacking. “Everyone else can do it. Connect. What can’t I? Why don't they understand me?"
Thing is, they do. We do. Stare around and past the blinders worn and realize, your story is just like mine. Or his. Or theirs.
I shared a fantasy with a male friend not long ago. Told him I wanted to be held down. Not rough, not dominated. But I have a bit of trouble with emotional touch. I only get held with a man on top because that's really all I can handle. But this time, I wanted a man to hold me down and have it feel safe and heart pounding...knowing he wants to touch me, breathe close and fast with me, look at me. But I'd have to be wrestled a bit. The fantasy is less about the sex and more about the connection. Someone who wouldn't let me to squirm away, literally and figuratively. Emotionally and physically. The story just got him hard. I didn't mind.
One day shy of two weeks after my Dad died, I confessed in this blog:
Sometimes, pain can be so huge and so desperate you need strong, willing, passionate arms tight around you to keep your heart from bursting through your chest. I haven’t been held like that in the last thirteen days.
Since then I’ve been making the effort, decided in that moment I wanted and needed to create relationships that would help hold the pieces in should I fell apart again. It’s been great fun. It’s been making mistakes. It’s been reconciling the want of emotional connection with the need of purely physical. As worthy as I am of having my hand held when I’m upset, sometimes I still want you to just leave right after. I still suggest casual couch time.
Maybe I don’t fear touch so much but all that comes with it long term. Until I find the balance I’m left straddling only the fence.