December was full of potentially dramatic situations, yet somehow it stayed drama free. This wasn’t due to my ability to avoid conflict as much as my ability to shut off emotionally. This was both a benefit and a curse as I concluded the month by hooking up with three different women in one week.
The first was a topless dancer in a gay bar in San Diego, the second was a good friend, and the third was The Wind.
Yes, The Wind. As in my ex. As in the one I retrieved my dildo from in my first blog “Back in the Harness Again.” As in the one who I went through months of therapy and meditation to move on from.
Talk about pushing the drama potential. I’d been doing so well at having non-emotionally attached sex, it was a shock to let myself go with someone again, especially her. My inner romantic peeked out, and I’m eager to poke her back in.
I’m not emotionally void. I’m not bitter. I’m not even a skeptic. I’m just cautious. I believe in love. Real, true, down to your guts love. I know it doesn’t come easily, and frankly I don’t have the time or energy for it right now. So I don’t make love, I fuck.
Except with her.
I’m a writer, I love a good story. The Wind and I would have made such a great story. Love at first sight, years of imperfect timing, longing across literally thousands of miles, and then a Hollywood ending in which the heroine, played by me, is swept off her feet by the gal she’s always known was “the one”.
But after the credits roll, life continues. The wooing stops, reality kicks in and the next thing you know you’re in your first year of law school in a long distance relationship with a girlfriend who never visits like she promised.
In fact, nothing lives up to what the fairytale promised. Yet, I stupidly still believe in it.
It is precisely because I believe in the fairytales and stories of love pure and true that I avoid it so much. What’s the point of having love if it doesn’t fit that bill? I’ve seen what love should be, and I refuse to settle for anything less.
No one has given me as much as The Wind has, and therefore no one has had so much to take away. The hardest part of our break-up was realizing our story was never going to have the fairytale ending. Instead my pumpkin coach shattered and I got blisters from walking alone in my glass slippers.
Laying there in her arms, exhausted from the hours of intense sex that pleased in a way so much more than physical, I kissed her, sad yet comfortable in the fact that things had changed and the fairytale was over. In the morning, New Year’s Eve to be exact, we said good-bye to 2009 and good-bye to our story as lovers.
I can’t say I won’t sleep with her again. I can’t even say I won’t give “us” another chance. But I can say that, for now, our story doesn’t work. We are drama, and that is not the story I want told of my love life.
In the gloriously high-pitched words of Snow White, someday my princess will come. Until then, I’m opening up only my legs. The rest of me will have to wait.
Blogger Bio: Queerie Bradshaw loves shoes, social justice and sex. Born a farmer’s daughter, she believes everyone deserves a good roll in the hay, and feels empowered by her feminine sexuality. She frequently travels both domestically and abroad, exploring women and wine from all regions. Now a law student who dances burlesque on the side, she fights for international rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of good porn. You can follow her on Twitter (twitter.com/QueerieBradshaw) and become a fan of hers on Facebook.