sexual fantasy 4

I’ve wondered what guys think about when it comes to fanaticism during sex.  Outside of sex I have asked guys what their sexual fantasies are and get told “You” or “We’re at a party and I take you outside and push you up against a wall and thrust away like a raging bull”.  Leaving me wondering at what point did I accept the advance and where did my knickers go?  He didn't even tell me he took them off.  Seriously, as women we want the build up.  When I think about sex outside at a party I Imagine arriving, my man thinking I’m sexy or some guy at the party thinking I’m sexy, flirting with me, looking at me seductively.  I imagine getting drinks and the guy coming over to flirt, a hand on my back or if he dares lightly touching my buttocks. 

I imagine passing in the hall way and he kisses me it starts off regular and then the kiss gets hotter.  Maybe we get some tongue and a touch in before someone else comes down the hall breaking us up.  Later on we meet outside the toilet or bathroom and sneak off to have another pash.  Again it starts off a bit shy, just teasing.  We’re at a party and don’t know how far to take it.  All this is a tease.  It leaves the woman feeling desired, wanted.  We get interrupted again someone wants to take a leak or wash their hands.

By the time we’re driving home we can’t help ourselves.  So much touching and titillating has left us both aching for each other so we go parking, and then he can thrust away like a raging bull.  A bull that knows and remembers the woman wants to climax too.

Men seem to find sex the fantasy and women find the lead up the fantasy.  Feeling hot sexual, being treated hot and sexual.  If it doesn’t happen that way in real life then fantasy is the best way to get it.

I heard that men are more faithful during sex than women.  Men think of the here and now and how good the sensations are.  Women think of scenarios, other men finding them attractive, turning their man on, of meeting up with their man for the first time at some place and lusting after each other.

I have had so many fantasies over the years.  When I get bored I start a new one.  Things like lying on the couch with my boyfriend under a blanket in the dark with the TV on, a couple of his mates are there and my boyfriend keeps trying to touch me and do things to me without anyone noticing.  Walking back from a costume party late at night, wearing a short nurse’s outfit with my boyfriend, who instigates sex in a well lit tunnel while noone else is around.  In my fantasies I always look great in any out fit and the guy is always super-man at working out how to turn me on and which buttons to press and what words to say.  That’s what makes it fantastic.

In reality the guy is so busy paying attention to his sensations in his here and now that he’s not thinking about whether I feel hot or not, or whether he’s leading me to believe he thinks I’m hot.   Maybe that's only my reality?   Having the guy think I’m hot and acting and showing that he thinks I’m hot is the biggest turn on, dream, fantasy ever!

mating rituals

sexy legs

Male camels loll their tongues [hanging their tongues out of their mouths and wobbling them about like slabs of raw steak] when they’re trying to impress female camels.  Male birds flap their colourful wings and do intricate dance moves to impress the female birds – who are usually dull coloured.  Lions spray their scent and flash their balls to lionesses in a courtship that goes on for up to three days before the lioness makes her choice of which lion to mate.  Males lions will fight each other over ownership of a pride and kill off all offspring of the losing lion if need be, in order to conquer and be king of that pride.

Attraction and mating in the animal kingdom is all about good providers and protectors and strong blood lines.  I don’t know the significance of the tongue lolling to attract the female camel’s attention.  Perhaps it’s about size or colour and is significant in some way to how strong a camel’s blood line will be?  I understand why birds flash their colours and dance and why lions urinate and flash their balls.  It’s about saying I’m powerful and I’ve got the goods to produce a good blood line.

Imagine if our mating rituals were like that.  Imagine brightly coloured men, with their tongues hanging out and their groins on display, dancing about with their penises going up, down, side to side, round and round [like tassels covering stripper’s nipples], fighting other men over being king of their family.  Notice I left out pissing to mark their scent.  We’ll leave that one to the lions.

Though it would be entertaining to see, none of those rituals would work for humans.  A tongue, bright colours and balls don’t show a man’s ability to provide or have strong blood lines.  Balls might seem a good way of showing if a man’s got strong blood lines, yet you cannot tell from looking at a man’s balls if is sperm count is good.  And you cannot tell by his package if he’s good in bed which is another important part of providing.  Having battles and fighting also don’t show how good a man is at providing.  He might be good at protection yet there’s no point in protecting if you have nothing to provide – infact, in our world those who have the least [to provide] are the one’s who fight the most.

Even though tongues, bright colours and balls wouldn’t offer us much in the way of knowing about a man’s abilities, I think it would be fun if men had dating and mating rituals like these.  It might make life more fun and entertaining.

Instead, we have the females on display in bright colours, with breasts hanging out and crotches on display.  It is the women parading themselves around and then making the decision on who to mate – based on what their attractions are.  While men stand around like bottles along a wall hoping to be selected by the brightly coloured female ‘peacocks’.  We are the only animal to have females on display and the only animal that doesn’t chose a mate by how well they provide or strong blood lines.  You only need notice our growing overweight populations to realise this.  As females who choose men via emotional attraction we tend to chose the first man who pays us a compliment or buys us a drink.  Not much to a man’s mating rituals there or the female’s selection.

A builder working hard at a work site or a man heading to an office in a suit and tie are signs of a good provider.  A man with broad shoulders and thin waste are signs of a strong blood line.  A sports man with strength is a good sign of protection.  And yet our female species will chose an unemployed man, and overweight man, a skinny weedy man.  We are also the only species to choose ‘the bottom of the barrel’ [so to speak] because we are the only animals with empathy and feelings and believe everyone has the right to love and happiness.  We are the only animals to base our mating choice on emotions and feelings.  This is a good thing because it means our men won’t be killing off offspring from another man’s pride.

date rape

There are different types of rapes.  Verbal persuasion rape is one of the most common.  Verbal persuasion is if someone is dating a person and they’re not in the mood for sex,and the other person takes to verbally forcing them into it, that is verbal persuasion rape because it’s forced.  It can look like this: if you loved me you’d do it; I’ve got blue balls; why won’t you sleep with me?; who else are you sleeping with?; you’re a bitch or a tease (or worse).  Verbally badgering a person into having sex with you until they give in.  Or it can be telling a bunch of lies - i.e. saying I love you, I can’t live without you, you’re the one for me - to get a person in the sack specifically for sex before departing.  Verbal persuasion can get a lot worse such as yelling verbal abuse at a person until they give in and have sex.  Using a person for sex after letting them believe it was more than just sex is another common form of rape.

Date rape – drugging a person for sex – is beyond me.  I wonder how anyone can do that and then look themselves in the mirror with any ounce of pride.  What is there to be proud of?  That the only way you could get a person to sleep with you is if they’re off their face!  Wouldn’t that make the person a loser?

I was date raped in my late teens.  I used to babysit for this woman looking after her two boys.  Her boys were easy to look after and the lady seemed nice enough.  She dressed classy when she went on her dates.  I babysat for her for over year and she dated different guys trying to find a decent guy.  I hadn’t babysat for her for a few months when she called to say she needed me to babysit.  She had a new boyfriend Mark who was tall, good looking with a nice body.  When they got back from their date she walked me home and told me that one of Mark’s fantasies is to have sex with a 16 year old virgin.  I was older than that and not a virgin and had a boyfriend so I didn’t think much about the remark.  If any thing I thought ‘I’m safe’ and I trusted this lady. 

I don’t remember how many months later she phoned me and asked me if I wanted to going out dancing with her and her boyfriend.  They took me to some night club.  At the club he gave me rum and coke.  I sipped it slowly and danced in between sips.  When ever I went back to the table the glass was full again.  I don’t remember finishing a single drink and I don’t know how much I had all up.  But I was so legless by the end of the night I fell over on the dance floor and couldn’t get back up.  They took me back to her place.

She gave me a shower to try and sober me up but she had her hands full.  I kept falling and couldn’t stand up.  I couldn’t even dry myself.  I wrapped a towel around myself and told her I was going to lie down.  I barely made it to the bed and just fell onto the edge of the mattress.  Then Mark came in.  I don’t remember him coming in, just standing over me looking down at me.  He started trying to pry my legs apart while I tried to lock my knees together but was so drunk I couldn’t control my movements.  I even remember trying to say no and all I got out was a groan. Then she was beside me sitting on the bed next to me stroking my hair and the rest is a blur.

I remember him being in me but couldn’t feel it.  I remember her getting undressed and joining in.  I remember him doing things to her and to me and her doing things to me and to him and trying to get me to do things to her.  I guess this was some fantasy of his that we were playing out.  I have no idea how long it went for.  When it was over they left the room and some time later I got up, got dressed and left.  As I left she asked me if I was ok (referring to how drunk I was not what had happened). 

Outside in the street I threw up then staggered home.  My dad was home and asleep when I walked in and I wondered if he’d been worried about me.

The next day she rang me to see if I was still talking to her.  I asked her if he came in me, she said he didn’t and I hung up.  Answering her question.  No, I’m not still talking to you.

Maybe because I was too drunk to remember, the situation didn’t bother me that much.  Some times I would think about him having sex with me without my permission and my insides would knot.  I wondered what kind of person does that.  Have sex with a girl too legless to move or object or even agree.  I was mostly pissed off with my friend (well I thought she was) for letting it happen.  I did wake with night terrors but couldn’t remember what had scared me.  I didn’t tell anyone.  Though I did vaguely mention it to my boyfriend who didn’t believe me and I never said another word.  He thought I was making up a tale just for something to say.

I don’t think I’m traumatized by that night.  I don’t feel much about it and it was so long ago.  One thing though, I cannot watch rape scenes in movies even though I know it’s just acting.  It makes me want to turn vigilante.  Maybe I’m more affected than I seem.

who's the fairest of them all?

Had some friends over on the weekend.  We were chatting about all manner of things when the subject of my weight came up.  It was mentioned in not such a flattering light.  One friend, A, commenting to another friend, B, because A had bet that B would fail to get me in shape by March.  B was adamant it could be done.  B lost the bet and A was gloating at my expense.

While A and B argued about my failure to lose weight and get fit, another friend, C, started talking to me about my weight loss.  He was aware that I wasn’t happy with the conversation, the bet and my subsequent failure being shamefully broadcast.  He started talking to me and the others about why I wasn’t having any luck even shifting 1 kilo and asked me, firstly: why a person who is obviously in a healthy weight range is so insistent on losing weight and secondly: what is my motivation.  Adding that if I’m trying to lose weight because I’m unhappy and don’t like myself then I would never achieve the weight loss because that motive isn’t enough to move me.  Further more, even if I did lose the weight I would still not like myself anymore than at present.  He suggested I concentrate instead of liking myself.  Then perhaps the weight loss might happen or maybe it won’t.

A and B started arguing with him about how important it was he not give me the idea that I shouldn’t try to lose weight.  The guy told them they’re part of the reason a healthy woman thinks she has a weight issue to begin with.

Interesting.

Now that has been said I find myself wondering ‘how do I like myself’?  It’s not as though there is some magic button I press and “hey presto!”  Do I do it through self affirmations?  I did like myself when I was in my early 20’s.  Before I began getting into serious relationships.  Some how being in relationships chips away at my self worth.  Is this because I lose myself?  It is because the guys I date don’t build me up?  Is it because they don’t allow me to be me and do all the things I love doing… or because I let them take it all away?  Again I ask ‘how do I like myself’?  How do I get that back?  What if I never get it back?  What if I never feel about myself the way I used to?

I had this idea that I would like myself once I got back to the weight I was in my early 20's but  my weight loss failure has only added to the list of 'failings' to dislike about myself.  Right now liking myself seems like some remote long lost love that will never return again and I don't even nearly know how to go about finding it again.

abusive boyfriend - 3

A couple of weeks later he came around late at night wanting to talk.  In the past he had often come around late at night, sometimes drug affected and all hyped up, sometimes outright agitated, other times all apologetic and grovelling.  This time he was cool, calm and reasonable.  Starting off with saying he knew he couldn’t have me and he understood I deserved better.  I let him in.  He didn’t turn straight away.  He played it cool for a while longer then he sort of hugged me, pinning my arms by my side saying he wasn’t going to let me go until I said I would take him back.  I said he’d be holding on for a while then.  Holding on for quite some time, trying to pin me up against the wall and kiss me.  He eventually realised I wasn’t going to say what he wanted.

He pushed me up the hallway talking relatively calmly about how he knew to please me and we could still have a little something on the side.  This is about when I realised I shouldn’t have let him in.  Once in my bedroom he pushed me onto the bed and started trying to woe his way into my pants.  When that didn’t work he starting trying to pressure his way into my pants before moving on to trying to physically get me undressed.  I fought and wrestled him and told him to get off me and he had to go.  I wasn’t going to have sex with him.  I did worry I wasn’t going to have a choice.  I fought anyway.

He pinned my arms above my head while trying to remove my pants.  I remembered I kept a knife under my pillow and debated on whether I’d have the courage or the need to use it.  When I slipped my hand under my pillow he pulled the pillow back to see what I was doing.  I panicked for a moment because I didn’t want the knife in his hands just in case.  He didn’t seem agitated enough to do anything like that.  Turns out I was right.  He tossed the knife and asked me what I planned on doing with it, would I use it on him.  I said that if he raped me I’d be forced to defend myself.

For the first time in our 5 tumultuous months he laid a hand on me, smacking his hand into my jaw and screaming at me, “I’m not a rapist!”

“Then get off me then” I said.  To my surprise he smacked me across the head, pushed his hand into my mouth like he was trying to gag me, and then got off.  So he did have some reasoning left.  He spent the next few minutes telling me he was never going to rape me and that he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me.  This turned into him begging me to take him back and the water works started.  Him crying and saying he couldn’t live without me and I was the best thing that had ever happened to him.  Saying how everyone had noticed he’s been so much better since he’d met me.  It I didn’t take him back he was going to take drugs and kill himself.  I simply kept telling him he needed to leave.  In the end I got him to leave by saying I’d think about taking him back and call him over the next few days.

When I called him like I said I would I explained that I couldn’t take him back.  It would be the wrong message to send.  I would be saying all that he’s done so far is acceptable and I want better for myself and my children than that.  I knew he’d made improvements and I was proud of him for that but I couldn’t fix him and take his turmoil and hurt way.  He was kidding himself if he thought I was the answer.  He needed to do things for himself and only then could I think about being with him.

Amazingly he remained calm, took it all in and agreed with me.  He had every intention of continuing to see his councilor and get help.  I got calls from his dad telling me he was depressed but understood I needed to think about what was best for me.  I got calls from his battered mother telling me he was a great kid and I should take him back.

He stalked me for months.  Phoning me and hiding out front of my house.

Sometime later unbeknown to me he moved back in with his mum, I think to protect her from her current bloke.  The new bloke kicked him out once he stood up to him so he was living in some tin shanty shake with an Aboriginal girl and hanging around with her mob.  They took him in and looked after him like he was one of their own.  But nothing could take away his anger and hurt.  He still lost his temper and true to his word he took up drinking and drugging himself out of his nightmare.  All the while his Aboriginal girl stuck by him.  Months later he was dead.  Run over by a road train in the middle of the night after passing out cold in the middle of the road, from too much drugs and alcohol.

It is a sad story.  A boy who had metal clocks, beer bottles and what ever thrown at him by abusive men.  A boy who witnessed his mum beaten black and blue and then had the men turn on him when she was done.  A boy who lived a shitty life with no-one there to save him.  No-one noticing (which amazes me to be honest).  No school teachers realising that something is drastically the matter with his life.

The saddest part of all is his death put an end to his inescapable misery.

R.I.P. - D

abusive boyfriend - 2

In situations like this the person is usually asked why they stayed with the abuser?  Why they put up with all the rubbish and abuse.  So why was I with him?  Aside from knowing he was good on the inside somewhere in there, he also had his kind moments.  He would do dishes and fold washing and tell me really lovely things about how he felt about me.  He was passionate and really into me and for the most part really big on compliments.  Not your standard trying to sucker the girl in type either.  Genuine and spontaneous compliments like wanting to grab a camera and take a photo of me at that precise moment.  Telling me I looked good in what I was wearing.  Bringing me random gifts like flowers he’d picked on the way to see me.  We use to go shopping and try on fancy dresses just so he could see me in them.  He was a real sweetie, a kind soul.  He was a great kisser and amazingly good in bed.  Because of things he’d witnessed he new things about sex beyond his years!  His admiration and lust for the female body was insatiable.  He was a veritable porn king who gave me my first orgasm and first experience with ‘parking’.

He would also deliberately ogle other women openly in order to make me jealous and in order to give me a sense of knowing my place.  He could leave any time he wanted, he would tell me.  There were girls at parties giving him blow jobs on weekends he wasn’t at my place.  He pointed out a bus stop where some girl had given him a blow job.  I wondered what type of adventurous and promiscuous girl would do such a thing?  Even going so far as to organise one of his girls to phone my house once to speak to him, then spending his time on the phone obviously flirting and talking sex with her.  I picked up the other line secretly and listening to her talking about how she couldn’t wait to see him again and give him head.

He was a game player.  But he was playing games with the wrong person.  Since he was abusive I never found myself really falling for him.  My friends were already starting to drift away and I didn’t want to lose them.  There was no way I wanted that life for myself.  So I held my emotions in check.  Him constantly losing his temper, telling me other girls on tv were so much better looking than me and that nobody but him was ever going to settle for a girl like me [him repeating verbatim all the things he’d heard growing up] – made it easier for me.  He would also try and tell me not to do the things I like.  Don’t listen to that music.  Don’t watch that program.  Don’t sing.  And I would say, “There’s the door if you don’t like it”.

I would phone those people he said bagged me and ask them straight out if they did and find they had not even spoken to him.  I told him he’s welcome to get head jobs from some tramp at a party if that’s what she feels like doing.  I told him I knew that I was not ugly like he said and that I believed his compliments more.  I also told him if he kept it up I’d say good-bye.

This last statement used to be one of our key argument triggers.  He didn’t want me to kick his ass to the curb.  He wanted to me to love him and put up with him because part of him knew he deserved it.  It was constant turmoil and I can’t imagine what it felt like to actually be him, stuck in his head with all his awful memories.

The decider came when he and I were watching tv and there was a one year old that we were looking after.  While watching tv the phone rang.  A girl friend of mine to talk to me.  The one year was walking around the perimeter of the lounge room holding onto the sofa, chairs, table and walls working his way around the room over to me.  When the one year old made it to the tv, taking his sweet time with his little baby legs, the boy gets up, swipes at the baby and says “Move!”, toppling the baby across the room.  Unfazed the one year old crawled back to the tv and took up where he’d left off.  I put down the phone and screamed at him, “How dare you!  Don’t you ever lay a hand on that baby ever.  You need to go.  Now!” and I ordered him out of the house.  I knew then I could never be with him.  It’s one thing for him to torture me with his insults and anger, his paranoia and breaking my things.  That stuff was done to me.  Someone big enough to stand up to him.  But to lay a hand on a defenseless child, he’d have grown into a full blown abuser down the track.  I knew that then.  I knew there was no fixing him.  He would be promising to never do it again forever and the longer I kept taking him back the worse it would get, and the more he would have me right where he wanted me.  Squashed and broken with only him as my world.  I deserved better.  Any children I had deserved better.

I have always believed it is one thing for an abusive woman to put herself in that situation by accepting it to begin with, but to enter defenseless children into the mix, I draw the line.  If the woman can’t defend herself how will she defend the children.

to be continued...

abusive boyfriend - 1

I once dated a boy who was abusive.  At the very least he had some serious anger management issues.  To his defense he’d had one of the worst upbringings I’d ever heard about.  He lived with his mum who was a victim of violence and he witnessed some awful things a child should never have to see (such as boyfriends bashing his mother, trying to drown her in a bath tub, breaking her bones and face, dragging her around the house by her hair). These boyfriends often turned on him, this little runt of a boy who wasn’t theirs.  On top of this his mum was an alcoholic and he spent most of his time alone.  Either his mum was out drinking or passed out in a drunken stupor.  There usually wasn’t any food in the house and he told me stories of eating stale bread and trying to open tinned food with a fork.

When I met him he lived with his dad in a bedroom with only a single bed and a handful of clothes.  No radio, no music, no posters.  Nothing personal at all.  Even his undies were too small for him and no-one bothered to buy him new jocks.  He was a sad and angry person who had been kicked out of every school he attended because no-one could control him and he couldn’t control his temper.  At 15 he was a high school drop out.

We met through a mutual friend who tried to warn me off him after we met but I didn’t understand what he was trying to tell me.  I first saw this boy flip out a week after we secretly started dating.  We were on a train and two of his friends got on the same carriage as us.  The friends, one cute Maori boy and the other a weedy blond thing, spent the rest of the night hanging out with and following us everywhere.  My boyfriend seemed happy to have them tagging along.  I wasn’t that happy because the blond boy gave me chills down my spine and kept talking about sex and parties.  I knew there was something really off about him.  After sometime the boy friend suddenly has this immensely angry outburst directed at me and what a slut I was and how if I wanted to fuck his friends then just do it, telling me we’re over.  It took the three of us ages to calm him down and in the end they walked him to the train station and I went home not knowing what was going on.  The Maori boy pulled me aside at one stage and tell me this is normal for this boy.

The next day he calls me and says he was angry that his friends hung around when he had wanted to spend his time with just me.

This went on for a couple of months.  Him blowing his stack over little things and me just watching him go and wondering what his deal was.  He would come over and visit me and if I got a phone call while he was there he would lose his temper once I got off the phone.  Quizzing me about who the person was, what they wanted, did I want to fuck them and so on.  Most of my phone calls were from family so the idea that I was cheating with the person was laughable.  He had this saying too, “Do you think I’m stupid?”  Meaning he knew I was lying about who was on the phone and I couldn’t fool him.  If friends visited he would lose his temper with them because he didn’t want them around.  If male friends came to visit he’d accuse us of making out while he went to the toilet or went outside for a smoke.  He would even get angry if I looked at a guy on tv for more than one second because it meant I wanted them and not him.

First off I tried to settle him down and reason with him.  After weeks of this I would just walk off when he got angry.  It got to the point where when he would ask if I thought he was stupid I was say “Yes”.

My friends thought he was a loser and volatile and wanted him out of my life.  I knew that behind his anger was some very serious sadness, hurt and vulnerability.  Not that this excused his behavior.  Aside from him cursing and yelling and breaking my furniture and the house I was renting he never hit me.  I used to say to him when he stood over me with his fist clenched threatening to him me, that he’d be sorry if he ever did.  I told him in no uncertain terms, “If you hit me you’re gone.  We’re over for good”.

We kept breaking up and getting back together.  He’d lose his temper, accuse me of cheating on him, say we’re over, then call me up days later saying he was sorry and he missed me and he wanted us to be together.  At first I would back down and get back with him.  Over the months I took longer and longer to take him back.

During this time he was seeing a psychiatrist who was really amazed at how much he’d calmed down since he met me.  Even his dad would phone me up telling me his son was a different person since we’d met.  I used to think, “If this is toned down I’d hate to see him in full swing”.

In fact, many a time I had to phone his dad to come and take him home because of his threaten behavior.

One thing he liked to do when he lost his temper was stand in the middle of the street screaming, “You mole, you slut, you fucking whore!” for all the neighbours to hear.  And I’d phone his dad to get him.

To be continue...