How Not to Charm a Lady

Today I went for a run with a guy in the the French wild. He showed me an ancient sheep herder dwelling and farted loudly while we were both inside. I made like it was fine but was of course totally appalled. We ran up over a ridge and into a clearing where I bounded and rolled in the grass pretending to be a goat. Other times, while we jogged together between the trees, I pretended we were Mammoth Hunters on the great hunt. I kept most of this to myself and tried to do my bounding in secret. It's hard for me to be living in the city center when I come from Hawaii's mountains.

The French guy was Jonas and the French Wild was called Parc de la Combe a la Serpent.

Physical Feelings and the Blast Radius of Heart Ache

Heartache can be a very physical pain, in my experience. In moments of jealously, or insecurity, and certainly when receiving harsh words from someone I'm emotionally vulnerable to, I often experience a pain in my palms. I can actually induce this ache if I think about something terrible. Sort of a burning pulling that can't be ignored, and definitely not imagined. Other times I feel the probably more traditional burst of stinging in my heart, like the muscle just beat a rush of blood the wrong temperature into my veins.

Something amazing happened to me the other night. I might be crazy, but I want to share just in case it was real. I was holding TMI against me and our chests were against one another. I was agonizing over my fear of repeating the B scenario and I needed to tell him. I needed to tell him that I was afraid to believe I was in love, since my senses are obviously insane and I have a history of falling for people that make me sick later in life. So I said "I don't trust myself."

And he said, "you don't trust yourself to be faithful?"

And I said, "I don't trust myself when I say I love you."

And then, with his chest still smashed up against mine, I felt a sudden pain in my heart; like the aftershock from a nearby explosion. TMI tried to wriggle away and was breathing like he might be choking back a sob or a cry of anguish. What I said hurt! Hurt like dropping a bomb and I felt it.

I don't know if I should have told him, as it was likely an unnecessary ouch; and I do certainly feel like I love him, but I can't shake the fear that it's wrong. And he needed to know that. But what I can't stop thinking about was that feeling.. was it real? Did TMI really experience such a heartache that I was within the blast radius? That's incredible.

Does anyone out there have pain in their palms? Burning in their chests? A tingling in their feet? What aches during heartache?

The Number

About a month ago, when TMI and I took a day trip to Beaune, I asked him his number. I'm at 5. Or.. 6, if we allow it to be complicated by a bit of gray area. He surprised me by responding that he had lost count; accredited to the fact that he was often victim to casual tristes and flirtation that got a bit out of hand. I was a little taken aback by this, maybe even a little jealous or concerned, but probably enjoyed thinking my partner was well liked and well in the game.

Last night, however, as it was the night before he leaves for his three week internship, we got in a little tiff about him not trusting me. He seems fairly convinced that in his absence I'm bound to have sex with anything and everything that moves in Dijon before he gets back. (I think I can partially blame IFFTP for this. If you're not in the know, TMI has found it and, as I for the most part REFUSE to be censored, it's often a strain on our relationship.) Anyway, I was eventually driven to protest that he had had a much more devious history than I. And then, face partially smooshed into his pillow, he said, "no, actually, I lied."

"What? Really? Why? ..well give me a number."

"What like, a real number?"

"..Not a fake one."

"Do I have to count you?"

"No. -Yes. I don't care just tell me."

Turns out, the answer was one. And she had come shortly before TMI and I met. Frankly, I'm shocked. But that would explain a lot. Does it matter? Should it matter? It takes a bit of a transition to go from thinking you were dating someone with one lifestyle only to discover it was one totally the opposite. But who's to say this isn't better? -That it doesn't speak to an honorable character or.. something?

All the same, I put him on the train an hour ago and kissed him sincerely on the platform. Time to stretch my muscles of fidelity for the next 3 weeks; despite my rugged past I plan to put my best foot forward at being faithful.

Lasting Things

Several years ago, I adopted a kitten. I was living alone and going to university on the West Coast. The first week, I was unaccustomed to the furry purry in my bed and started to lock her out of my bedroom in the night. Each morning, she would wake me up early crying piteously at the door. I would shout "NO!" and refuse to let her in, leaving her mewing for hours. She was a little kitten and all alone.

Even though there have been things in my life that have made me cry, or shudder with fear, or rock with laughter, or even scratch my own chest in despair: surely I've wronged people, missed opportunities, lost things, broken things, or cared immensely for things I couldn't have, keeping a kitten locked out of my bedroom is, today, the heaviest weight I bear on my heart. Now, years later, I continue to kick myself and wish I could go back in time and just open the door.

Why is it the little things that come creeping back, years later to wring our hearts with importance, as we steadfastly leave behind the people and events that at one time or another meant the world?

Can Lovers Love it Rough?

When it comes to sex, there are few who can honestly ignore the undeniable hotness of getting roughed up a bit. Several days ago, in a conversation with one of my closest and best loved ladies, the two of us got to talking about a mutual appreciation for getting a little aggressive in the bedroom. TMI and I, though the sex has always been passionate, spontaneous, and.. high energy, have recently started pushing into the realm of throwing one another down on the mattress, bra ripping, and hair pulling; and, hands down, its been fantastic.

But I can't help but wonder: before sentiments start to sneak into the relationship, a lack of restraint during sex is usually nothing to bat an eyelash at. But once "I love you"s get into the mix I for one start to feel a little conflicted. I want to be frisky, but I also want a relationship based on mutual respect. Is this possible if we allow ourselves to be objectified in the bedroom? Is it dangerous to talk dirty and get rough if you're attempting to build a heathy partnership? Should lovers stick to calling it "making love" or can we cut loose and yell "fuck me!" once in a while?

Disappointingly, previous relationships of mine never dared breach the boundaries of slipping anything less than pious language during sex. Everything had a safe and cutesy nickname and we didn't do anything that could ever feasibly be more "sex" than it was "love making."

What I'm happily discovering, however, is that going over the edge has only strengthened my relationship. Knowing that we love each other makes getting crazy feel safe. Where I might have risked feeling a little victimized with more casual encounters, placing myself in compromising situations with TMI feels exactly like it should: daring, indulgent, and impossibly sexy. ..And I STRONGLY recommend it.