You wanted to know more about my dating life

Red panties, belt, boots... what else do you want to know?

Red panties, belt, boots… what else do you want to know?

I should stop asking my Facebook friends for input about this blog.

I don’t know how much I can say about my dating life, because dating automatically involves other people, and I’m still working out what I should be writing about those people. This is an ever-present issue for people working with any kind of autobiographical material.

Yes, I write about lovers, past and current and maybe-someday-again, in slut (r)evolution and for | play, but the time frame that I’m talking about is not always clear, so they couldn’t necessarily be traced to actual people, and I don’t use names, okay, one name I used, but that’s because when I tried to give them a pseudonym, it just never stuck in rehearsal, it kept coming out the other way. Lately I’ve been writing about one lover a lot; for 37 days before I reached the UK I wrote emo love poetry about us and posted it to Facebook every day. That’s how far gone I am about this guy. I’ve given him a nickname that we can both live with—”my UK Muse”—but less about the details, at his request, less than I might normally, because he’s a private kinda person and I’m … not.

I’m a public, semiprofessional perv, so it is assumed about anyone who goes on more than one date with me, that they must be pervy enough to satisfy me. This is true. It may not be immediately visible or obvious, the things about them that make my little button jump, but they’re in there. Not everyone wants other people to know that, so it can be a bit touch-and-go, sometimes. I am a dangerous woman to be publicly, romantically involved with. People will assume things about you, and they might even be right.

People assume things about me, too, about what I look for, what I’m available for. These are many of the same things that I think burlesquers and erotica writers and strippers and sexually oriented performers and other sex workers get: obviously, if we are loose enough to be doing that kind of work, we must be that loose around the clock, off work as well as on.

Now, if you’re dating around like I am, it’s not a bad thing to get hit on. One wants to have options, but I want people to understand where I’m coming from AND to value me for more than just my sexual enthusiasm and skills, and that sort of holistic desire doesn’t come easily. In my OKCupid profile, I lay out a lot of my sex-positive stuff and say that I am looking for casual sex, but I’m thinking about taking that out, because it’s not completely accurate. What I mean by that is I will readily put out on the first date, but only if I get a strong hit that we should be going on a second date. I don’t do hook-ups, unless the person I’m hooking up with promises to be an ongoing thing, a repeat offender, a sexy, dirty mensch. And I never know this about someone for a certainty. I’m not psychic. If someone plays a good game, I can be, have been, fooled. I think there’s a connection, but whoops, no, not really, fast fade, see ya round. Not only do I put out easily, but I fall easily, so when the players play and run away, occasionally I am caught with my heart hanging out. (Ow.)

That’s not often, thankfully. Most of my good dates—and there aren’t that many—fall in the middle somewhere. They do a good snog, but we just can’t make a second meeting happen. No hard feelings, it’s just scheduling. Or we keep meeting up, and there’s good times and genuine affection, and that’s good enough for everyone involved.

The amazing encounters? Well, those are rare, so rare. Those are the people that I want to be most careful writing about. My UK Muse, in particular, I am treading gently still around that whole beautiful garden. I have to think and think before I start blathering on about us too much. It is so hard to be in the good thing, fully in it, fully immersed, and write about it, accurately and without too much self-consciousness, at the same time.

It’s like trying to describe dancing with words, while actually dancing. I can only do it after the music has stopped, when I pause to catch my breath, and try to explain the feeling of that beautiful sway.



Want to find out more about my love life? Hah, you should be so lucky! And you should become a patron of mine, over on Patreon!

No Comments
Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.