Why do men (the men I’m attracted to) always want to teach you? And more than that, they want to break you. Perhaps that’s not an explicit desire. But there’s delight there to see your struggle. Why do they always want to change you? I suppose I’ve always felt myself in need of change, coming from a position of extreme embarrassment of my origins, my lack of social graces. No doubt I have unconsciously sought out teachers, and so often I have noticed their demands for my change and I have desired to rise to the challenge, to show how strong I am. I always take the bait.
And it is so often to do with sex. They want you to be something else with sex. Maybe something different, maybe something more. They want you to behave how they desire you to behave. Or they want you to be like them. And I always thought, yes, it would be good to be more passive/more active/more vocal/more quiet. And when I found that the learning you have gained from one cannot really be transferred to another, because, lo and behold, they are completely different in their pecadillos, I always thought, well, I am multiplying my skills, have more weapons in my armoury.
Only now do I wonder if that is wrong. Bending myself to another’s wishes, especially when it hurts me and makes me cry, does not make me look strong. I don’t have weapons in my armoury (why is that even the most nascent simile?) Just an array of hard-won techniques that are useless once the man who inspired them is gone.
And this, even this, is what they are trying to inspire, They goad me into this fire, this anger, this rage, this desire to rise up and be strong in myself. Thus they disempower even my inner spirit, by finding sexual delight in my rage.
Of course, the inactive man, the polite man, the generous, caring and affectionate man is one that has little attraction for me. Of course I self-select these men. But how, how can I be strong and be vulnerable, be cared for and be independent, grow and change yet not be hurt, enter a relationship of equals but still excite my desire?
Is this an age old question that woman have asked themselves? I feel it in Anaïs Nin. Will I become like this as I continue my relationships with women? Shall I, like others before me, run and hide in the refuge of women? I think I will only find different problems there.
At least I live in the age of vibrators.