A great start to a Saturday morning – a Saturday morning that is a work morning, alas.  I got up to a message in my mailbox at the dating site I frequent.  It said, “You’re a very young looking older gal… how do you feel about younger women? I see that we have a fair amount in common. Would you care to explore our points of connection over coffee?” 

I read her profile, looked at her photos, and  yes, she seems like a highly articulate, very intelligent, and very attractive “younger woman.”  She’s 34 – 18 years younger than I am.  But if no one is in a vulnerable position due to an inexperience and maturity gap, there is no harm in that.  I answered that I would be quite agreeable to meeting if there was good coffee and good conversation involved!

Very nice to get a compliment like that early in the morning…

Edit: No response to my email as of Monday morning June 2.  Perhaps she has reconsidered dating an “older gal!”  Maybe just as well…

I have no one to blame but myself for how I feel this morning!  Repeat as needed….

I went to my very first EVAR evening of “Dildo Bingo” at our most popular lesbian-friendly bar here the Twin Cities, Pi.  It was my first visit to Pi as well, a newer establishment here in the Cities that is located not terribly far from where I used to live in south Minneapolis.  I wish it had been there THEN, but times have changed since then, too, and maybe the world is now ready for a place like Pi and the women (and a few guys) who go to Pi.

Randi Sue, my friend from some posts back, suggested that we do this.  I said that I’d meet her there so that I could leave when I wanted to if things got a bit awkward between us or if I just needed to cut the evening short.  I was fairly ambivalent about going last night with it being a work night, with it being a rainy work night, and with it being a rainy work night following a night that hadn’t been all that restful.  But I went, with the thought that I’d stay for a couple of hours max and then get home at a decent time to get to bed.

Dildo Bingo was a damn blast, though!  To watch and listen to the people running it up on stage was just outrageous!  They were so funny and so over-the-top with their raunchy humor, so completely uninhibited about the subject of sex, alternative sex, safe sex, and sex toys.  That’s what the prizes for each round (10 in all) were: sex toys donated by our local sex toy boutique, Smitten Kitten.  And all the proceeds from Dildo Bingo go to GLBT charities.  Dildo Bingo has raised $25,000 in charitable contributions during the past year.  Awesome!

I won, I won, I won!!   When I won, I had to yell out, “Dildo!” instead of ”Bingo,” and I did, loud and clear!   I won in Round 4 or something like that.  It must have been the “Trans” round because I won a prosthetic penis and balls to pack my pants with and a porn flick featuring FTM tranny men.  I will never pack my pants with a fake cock and ball set to impress the women (or maybe the men!), but I’ll take a look at that movie during this two-week home-alone time without my husband. 

Anyway, I had so much fun that I stay for nine of the ten rounds of Dildo Bingo.  (I was disappointed that I didn’t win in the Butt Plug round and get that new, rather nifty-looking toy to add to my collection!) It was going on 11:00 when I left Pi to head for home on the east side of St. Paul.  It was 12:30 last night by the time I got to sleep.

Randi Sue and I got along okay.  There was enough else going on to keep us highly entertained without staring at each other across the table.  She was getting into the kissing mode by the end of the evening, though, although it remained under control.

She seems to be working on expanding her dating horizons a little.  Even told me about an older gentleman that she’s been corresponding with who lives in her own suburb!  How convenient is that?  She’s considering outfitting herself with some new golf clothes and shoes so that she can take him up on a golf date sometime.  I think she’d probably enjoy that and should go for it!  I hope that the guy is nice, though.  Luckily, it sounds like they’re not rushing into anything.

Well, I’ve got both eyes reasonably open and it’s time to head off to work.   

I think I’ve probably run my course on this last topic of interest: penis size and how it should be irrelevant in a sexual relationship.  I think I’ve milked it for all it’s worth now.  That’s too bad in a way because I’ve gotten many more hits on my blog in the last few days than I have in quite awhile.  I used the tag “penis size” on those blog entries.  People apparently use that a lot as a search term and I’m getting hits on my blog.  That’s quite amusing, actually, and just a further symptom of this size preoccupation I’ve discussed.  Perhaps I’ll just put “penis size” as a tag on all of my posts, regardless of whether it’s about home mortgages, travel plans, or work-related stresses and enjoy more traffic on my blog!    

“I have always considered myself as having an average ‘package..’  This statement was rendered by my long-time email correspondent, a man of Italian descent who could give any porn star a run for his money in terms of size of his “package” (provided that the porn star’s anatomy is not in the freak size range!)    My friend gives the expression ”hiding the salami” a whole new meaning!  He’s as well-hung as the proverbial “circus pony,” although probably not as well-trained!

I mentioned to my husband, the email correspondent’s college housemate from the 70s,  that The Italian Circus Pony expressed this opinion about having an “average package.”  I asked Dave if he thought that our friend was sincerely this ignorant about his own size.  Dave made choking noises and answered in the negative.

My correspondent is not alone in either this false modesty or plain ignorance of size.  There is one man in my sexual history who I would have to say probaby trumps The Italian Circus Pony by an inch at least in circumference — which in my estimation is what a woman really senses inside her vagina rather than length.  This was so damn funny in a way because this guy was a scrawny little guy.  Probably 5′6″ or 5′7″ inches in height and 125 pounds soaking wet.  He had a concave chest and actually a rather frail, sickly appearance.  Yet, when he attained an erection, it was this fat sucker about as big around as a pop can.  (Okay, I’m exaggerating a little….)  You know what he said to me when my eyes got huge upon that revelation?  “I’m about average, I guess.”

On the other hand, one man whose cock I had a nodding acquaintance with and who was almost as big as The ICP was worried that it wasn’t big enough!  He voiced his concern that it was too small on the night he, his wife, and I celebrated their 5th wedding anniversary and I saw what he had.  His wife told me that he has always been worried about that and no amount of reassurance on her part — and he’s her third husband! – has convinced him that he’s “just fine” in the size deparment.  And I thought, “My god, you’ve got to be kidding me!  What’s WITH this guy?”  He was 47-years-old — no adolescent anymore! — and was perfectly normal to above-average on the scale and was worried about being too small!  Pure craziness! 

One guy from my late teens and early 20s whom I thought was pretty damn nice in the size department — probably the same size as the insecure guy above — actually agreed with me.  He had his measurements recorded, both length and circumference, and knew exactly what they were.  (A lot of guys do, I think, although they won’t admit it.)  He wasn’t too proud to say, “Yeah, I think I’m a cut above average.  Here are my stats!”  Aside from his brief foray into “bisexuality” as a teen, he was gay.  My personal opinion is that most guys sort of really know where they measure up with their peers, but to admit that you’re “well hung” is to admit that you notice male genitalia, and you wouldn’t want anyone to think you’re queer for that!  Better to shrug and say, “I’m just average…” even if you know better.  That way, you don’t have to be accused of being either arrogant or gay — unless you’re truly either or both!

Are men really as ignorant about all this as they act?  Do they develop distorted perceptions from getting most of their size comparisons from pornography?  This could be when it comes to heterosexual men.  I would venture a guess when it comes to straight men, they don’t actually see a lot of erect penises from your Average Joe.  They’ve seen their own erections, most have seen a porn flick or two where the actors are actually chosen for their large size, and the rest of what they’ve seen are flaccid penises in Physical Education showers and locker rooms and health clubs.  Flaccid penises are not a true indicator of size because erection can change those dimensions a great deal.  There is not enough good “education” out there for your average straight guy to know what is actually “normal” and what isn’t!

It might be nice if guys had a realistic perspective on this matter.  Do you think we need a new “reality” TV show?  Who’s the Biggest Dick?  Hosted by Peter Johnson….

In the post, “He Said…She Said,” I was forced to fill in my own comment for the last “He Said” entry.    As of yesterday afternoon, it can now officially be replaced with this:

He: You are quite right that many men have an anxiety about their penis size. I assure you that I am not one of them. I have what I have and I am content with the fact.   I hope this is oil on the water for you and calms you down. I didn’t attack you, but merely asserted that I am not one those penis anxious men.  I don’t think of myself as large or small. I’m just ME. WYSIWYG.

Me:  I never insinuated that you were one of those insecure males in anything I said.  I never said any personally directed towards you at all regarding the size obsession discussion.  I was discussing the situation in general terms, inspired by some recent comments by both of us, and yes, there are many, many men who are concerned and obsessed about their size.  I didn’t “miss the mark a bit” on that at all in my “diatribe.”  You missed the mark if you thought that any of it was personally directed towards you. 

Why should you be one of those men concerned about his size?  You know you’re “well hung.”  You’ve known that since you were a boy, since you were an adolescent, since you were a college student at the student house, flouncing down the stairs in only a t-shirt and no pants, forcing Morris The “Housemother” to admonish, “Man, cover yourself up!  We don’t need to be seeing your weiner bouncing around!”  To worry about being too small in your case would be the same severity of body image distortion as what an anorexic, starving-at-her-own-hands woman has when she sees herself as too fat.  You know full well where you measure up.  We both know that.

[End of email excerpts]

This is just another form of male insecurity at play.  I write a discourse about penis size and how men should quit playing this game and learn what really counts and this well-hung man immediately jumps to the conclusion that it’s all about him!  He gets defensive and jumps in right away with “assertive” assurances that he’s NOT one of THOSE men who are concerned with his penis size! 

Well, duh.  Why should he be?

Men…. [sadly shakes head]

I have just spent several posts coming across as a person who has her sexual self-esteem and sex life together.  I have a confession to make.  I sound really good on paper.  When it comes to my own personal life, I have difficulty talking to my own husband of 35 years about these situations in more than abstract terms.  Talking with him directly about how some of these issues and situations affect our very own sex life is a very daunting task for me and one that I staunchly avoid unless forced into it because something has bothered me to that extreme.  I live in fear of evoking his defensivness and making him feel threatened, of wounding his perceived male ego, of distancing him because I’ve brought up a potentially sensitive subject, and I handle him with kid gloves to the extent of remaining silent when I’d really like to talk about something with him.

This is my problem.  Anyone have any advice for the “advice columnist?”

Like I mentioned in a previous post, I have a long-distance relationship based on email correspondence with a man I’ve known over the span of 38 years.   On three separate occasions during the years of this relationship, I have seen this man’s erect penis, the first such occasion occurring in 1971 when I was 15-years-old.  Recently, we had this email exchange, and I’ve copied the noteworthy parts directly from those emails so as not to misrepresent anything in the translation.  

Me:  “When it comes to [your lady friend's] sexual appetite, she may have a craving for a big cock…”

Him:  “Big Cock”, thanks for the complement, but then you also said once, “Its not as big as I remembered!”

Me:  Yes, you have a big cock.  It’s not a compliment; it’s a fact.  I’ve never really understood “complimenting” a man about the size of his erect penis when it’s a genetic characteristic that he has no control over, the same as the size of his feet or the color of his eyes.  Yet, somehow, this has become a really, really important deal to a lot of men!  They’re either proud of the size of their organ or embarrassed or worried that it isn’t big enough.  The male anxiety and preoccupation over this inherited physical trait is a waste of energy and certainly has nothing to do with a man’s worth as a human being or a lover.

When I said years later (and I’ll take your word at this point that I said this) that your cock wasn’t as big as I remembered it, I was not inferring that the size of your cock had shrunk.  It hadn’t.  What I was thinking about was my perception as a 15-year-old the first time I saw and touched your erect penis.  At that time, I had only seen and touched one other adult penis.  In comparison, yours was quite enough to inspire awe and fear in the heart of an inexperienced teenager!  Years later, I was not quite as awed and impressed because I had had a lot more experience by then.  I had been intimately acquainted with a variety of erect organs of different sizes and shapes, some smaller than you, some the same size as you, and I think at least one a little bit bigger.  You were the same size as you were 1971, but I just wasn’t as impressionable as I was in 1971.  That was the difference!

[I then directed him to read my blog post, inspired by this email conversation, "It's All In The Genes."]

Him:  I gotta begin this with saying that you missed the mark a bit.  I was more interested in your perception rather than any “anxiety”  I may have.  Really, never been concerned with size;  much more concerned with skill and giving pleasure to my partner.  I’ve been in cavernous vaginas and snug cunnies and I have managed to do well by the lady.  Hate it when I ejaculate in what I consider too short a time. I like to stretch out lovemaking for one or two hours; though I have done a quickie in 6 minutes….   

Reading that blog was an interesting diatribe.

Me:  I gotta begin this by saying I don’t know what subject you’re talking about here by saying I ”missed the mark a bit.”  Please explain so that I understand what you’re referring to.  Then you said, “I was more interested in your perception rather than any ‘anxiety’  I may have.”  My perception of what?  And when did I mention any ‘anxiety’ you may have?  Go back to my last email and tell me exactly what you’re talking about here so that I can track your train of thought.  I’m kind of lost and would like to have a conversation but I don’t know what your comments are referring to.

So, my blog entry was a “diatribe” to you.  This is my understanding of the definition “diatribe:”

1 (archaic) : a prolonged discourse

2: a bitter and abusive speech or writing

3: ironic or satirical criticism

None of these definitions, particularly the last two, are complimentary.  I put a lot of thought into what I wrote, and my husband and others actually thought it was a good piece of writing.  Dave said it was thoughtfully organized, rational, and clearly made a point.   He liked it and complimented me on a well-crafted piece.  It is insulting that you found my thoughts on the matter to be a “diatribe.”

He:  Well, HE hasn’t said anything further yet and may not for awhile since he often reads his email only once a week or so! 

Actually, at no time did I say in any of my emails or blogs that this particular man has any insecurities about the size of his penis.  Why should he?  He’s one of these “cockier” males I mentioned in my post, the ones who know from puberty onward that they’ve got that extra inch or two below the belt.  These are the men who will never worry about what they bring to a sexual encounter because they know where they rank in the “pecking order.”  Why give it a second thought when you’ve known this about yourself since you were twelve?

No, both my emails and my posts were discussing this situation in general terms rather than pointing out the insecurities of any one man in particular.  And I don’t think I “missed the mark a bit” on the observations I made in my emails or posts.

In my last post, I suggested that men make attempts to overcome their primitive hardwiring and cease playing competition games with the size of their penises, a practice that adversely affects the self-esteem of many of them.  I certainly don’t want to come across as a “man basher” because of this sentiment.  I’m asking men to see this behavior for what it is because I am strongly pro-male.  I’m strongly HUMAN BEING, and I’ve seen firsthand how this social behavior, this size critiquing to determine informally who is the “alpha male,” ultimately degrades a man’s self-esteem and self-confidence from a young age, sometimes never to fully recover even in the face of adult maturity and logical argument.

I’ll even be an “equal opportunity employer” here for a moment since women go through the same thing with the size of their breasts.  Even though size has nothing to do with the responsiveness of the breasts and nipples to sexual stimulation and pleasure, small-to-average size women perceive themselves as less sexually attractive than their “well-endowed” sisters.  Some suffer low self-esteem over this issue.  Many have chosen to have augmentation surgery in order to have the sexually attractive breasts they perceive men and society want.  Fortunately, this is a relatively simple (although expensive) option for women since the function of the breasts is not affected by the surgery in the absence of lactation.  Let’s face it, the function of the breasts is large ornamental, except for those limited times in some women’s lives when they provide nutrition for an infant.  Other than that, breasts sell products of all kinds, support the women’s fashion industry, pad cosmetic surgeons’ wallets, and provide a fertile breeding ground for cancer cells.  Women would do well to be a little less preoccupied with their breasts unless it is to provide them with monthly exams and periodic mammograms!

I’d be the last one to say, however, that size is never a factor when it comes to certain kinds of sexual stimulation. There are occasions when certain sizes fit better together during sexual penetration.  Bigger can be just as detrimental to sexual pleasure as smaller because not all women are “size queens” and certain dimensions can be downright uncomfortable to some women, depending on their experience level, the position of their pelvic organs, the presence of vaginal or perineal scar tissue due to childbirth, and the woman’s hormonal state.  On the other hand, an average to smaller size penis, coupled with a vagina and supporting pelvic ligaments that have been through the effects of childbirth, surgery, and/or aging, may result in a situation where neither partner is getting the full pleasurable benefit from sexual intercourse.

So, what do you do when the the size of the object being inserted doesn’t match the dimensions of the space it’s being inserted into and some lessening of pleasure is the result for one or both partners?  There is one answer that is correct no matter what the details are of the particular situation: use the big brain that human beings are blessed with.  Human beings have the biggest and most complex brain of any of the animals on earth.  It allows them to analyze a situation and consider the array of choices that may be available.  It allows them to modify a situation and find ways of solving a problem.  Unlike our parrot and orangutan and cheetah counterparts, there isn’t one way and one way only to accomplish sexual pleasure and union.  Lay aside preconceived notions and explore the options!

“Exploring the options” may be any one or a combination of many, many different things.  Put aside embarrassment and defensiveness and talk to your partner about it.  Ask her opinion.  Listen to her likes and dislikes. Use your collective big brains to consider all the choices on the list.  It may come down to a very reasonable conclusion that intercourse is not the end-all-and-be-all it was once assumed to be.  There are many ways to sexual pleasure, and if you’re not trying to make a baby, there is no biological reason for every occasion of lovemaking to include intercourse.  There are different kinds of kisses and caresses, the creative use of lips, tongues and fingers.  There is the concept of “outercourse” to explore, and an array of playthings and enhancements readily available for consideration.  Take her shopping at the Smitten Kitten Boutique or give her a gift certificate to The Blowfish catalog.  If it’s G-Spot stimulation she needs or a sensation of deep pressure in her vagina or anus, she shall have it if she wants it with just a little exploration and encouragement.  And always remember that sex toys are in no way a replacement for your loving, enthusiastic participation in this pleasurable, creative process! 

If correcting the erectile dysfunction that many middle-aged and older men experience would return some pleasure to your sex life, consider what you can do about it.  Men commonly experience this as a side-effect of hypertension, diabetes, and cardiovascular disease and the medications that are used to treat these conditions.  Would improving your overall health by losing some weight, diet modifications, and exercise help to control these conditions and reduce the amount of medication required to treat these conditions?  It’s sound advice, regardless of its effect on E.D.   Perhaps you’re a candidate for asking your physician “if Levitra is right for you!”    If you think this may improve the sexual experience that you share with your partner, swallow your pride and embarrassment and ask!  Thousands upon thousands of these prescriptions are written for men with diminished erectile response, and doctors don’t even blink an eye at the request. 

In conclusion, human beings are different from animals.  Human beings have the largest, most complex brain of any of the life forms on this Class M planet.  In this sense, and in this sense only, bigger is better.  Use that big brain to realize that sex is so much more than procreation of the species, that it is an expression of joy, pleasure, trust and sharing in an intimate relationship.  There are so, so many ways to do that, and none of them involve the size of a penis or the cup size of a pair of breasts.  Use that complex brain wisely to consider all the choices and all the reasons why size doesn’t matter when it comes to sexual love between two human beings.  Be a self-confident lover who knows his unique human intelligence, his capacity for love, gives him everything he needs to be a creative, wonderful, satisfying partner.

And that is the bottom line. 

A little riddle for you:  what is in the genes as well as in the jeans?

Answer: the size of a man’s penis.

I need to write about this.  No, it doesn’t have anything to do with my sexual orientation.  It doesn’t have anything to do with being a “three on the Kinsey scale.”  I don’t even personally own a penis although I’ve lived closely with one for 36 years now.

I have a long-time male friend.  He and I exchange emails frequently, which is what our long-distance relationship consists of.  Three times over the course of our 38 year relationship, I’ve seen his erect penis, which qualifies me to make an informed statement about that organ.  I made a comment recently about his current lady friend and their rather strange relationship.  I made the crude remark that she must like big cocks.  In his reply email that I received yesterday, he thanked me for the compliment.

I said, “It was not a compliment; it was a statement of fact.  I don’t believe in complimenting men for something that is strictly genetic and over which they have no control.  It’s just like the color of his eyes or the size of his feet.”

The dimensions of the penis are governed by the genes an individual inherits, not by any factors that make him more of a man or less of a man.  Size is not mandated by testosterone levels or sex drive or levels of fertility.  Penile size has nothing to do with anything and is simply a product of one’s ancestory and genetics.

Yet men regard this characteristic as either a personal source of manly pride or embarrassment, depending on where they fall on the ruler.  Why is this?

I speculate that it goes back to a primitive instinct left over from some evolutionary process.  The male of many species is in competition with other males for the privilege to mate with the females of that species and impregnate them to carry on their genes.  Male peafowl attract females of the species with their colorful tail plumage.  Lions are considered most masculine and desirable when their manes are full and thick.  Tom turkeys develop bright red wattles and snoods when ready to mate, and the male orangutan develops fatty cheek pouches or flanges when he’s ready to become a dominant breeder in his territory.  All these things are outward visible signs of masculinity and maturity, and these signs are readily recognized by both the males and females of the respective species.

But what do human males have?  No colorful feathers, no red wattles or snoods, no luxurious manes or swollen cheeks pouches!  Instead, they eye up each other in locker rooms and surreptitiously at urinals and mentally size up the competition by observing penis size.  This is how they determine where they fall in the pecking order and who is most likely going to mate with the hens!  This “sizing-up” behavior starts when they’re boys barely out of training pants!

You know what?  I think this “sizing up” behavior kind of works, too.  It works because the boys with the larger penis size feel an inflated sense of arrogance and self-confidence.  Those boys know they’ve got what it takes where it counts, even though this self-esteem is inarguably misplaced!  The smaller boys feel inferior and ashamed and are less likely to try to excel with the females.  They fear being ridiculed for their size.  They back down to the “cockier” males, and their self-esteem suffers.

Men are preoccupied with this one dimension of their bodies.  Look at all the ads for penis enhancement preparations and medications that inundate people’s email inboxes!  Men have been trying techniques for centuries to make their organs longer and thicker.  Some of those techniques have had disasterous results.  Many men would be forking out big bucks for cosmetic surgery if this were a viable option.  It’s been attempted by plastic surgeons over the years, but silicone injections and implants scar the erectile tissue that is actually supposed to function.  No man really wants a big, puffy dick that doesn’t work when he’d like it to, so surgical enhancement has ceased.  But if it worked, there would be long lines at the surgery centers for men who want to make their dicks bigger so they look like Ron Jeremy or Johnny Wadd! 

This is ridiculous.  It’s absurd because we’re human beings, not birds or lions or monkeys.  Being a good lover, a good partner, a good father has nothing to do with how many grams of tissue resides between a man’s legs.   It has to do with his sensitivity, his unselfishness, his caring.  A good lover is a combination of intelligence, good judgment, ethics, and open, uninhibited attitudes.   A man has every reason to be a self-confident lover if he has these things going for him, and it doesn’t matter in the least how many inches he has below the belt.

This is why you’ll never hear me complimenting a man on his penis size.  I refuse to play into this primitive instinct which ultimately does more harm than good in the human male.

Get over it, guys.  For your own sakes. Become as evolved as your bigger brains indicate you are and leave the primitive behavior for the orangutans.       

Well, Rhyanna and I renewed our acquaintanceship last evening, definitely on the same page: she suggested that we go to Pizza Lucé on Selby Ave. in St. Paul for supper, one of my favorite places to go!  Their pizza is fantastic!  We met up around 5:20 right after work.

We pretty much picked up right where we left off five years ago, although both of us are wiser and more experienced than we were five years ago.  She and I didn’t have a sexual relationship going on five years ago, although I think the possibility was always in the background.  After seven months of hanging out together, I told her I was ”seeing someone.”  She made no further effort to contact me, and I didn’t get in touch with her.  That’s too bad because I think we had (and have!) the basis for a good friendship.  This time around, I’d like to cultivate that because friendship is one of the most important things there is in life.

We took a walk after supper around a few neighborhood blocks.  (Pizza Lucé is in an older St. Paul neighborhood, right in the middle of a residental block.)  I reached out and took her hand and we strolled for awhile holding hands.  She flippantly said she needed to “overanalyze” my gesture –  something she’s good at — and tried to turn it into a joke.  I told her to just let it be what it is and don’t worry about it!

Truth is, I just enjoy a woman’s company, especially a woman who has just spent two hours telling me about her life in an open, unabashed way.  I felt the bonds of friendship and trust there.  I just wanted to reach out and make a physical connection with her.  Sometimes that’s all it’s about!  And that’s more than enough.

So, here’s to the NEXT five years and a growing friendship.

All is quiet on the Western Front right now.

Andrew has not answered that long letter I wrote a week ago in “Changing, Aging Perspectives.” 

Randi Sue has attempted no further email or phone communication since I answered her last email reprinted in “The Saga Continues.”  We were so not on the same page with that attempted relationship!  I just don’t fall in love in the span of seven days, and it’s uncomfortable for me to be with someone who is oozing that kind of agenda from her pores when we’re together.

I’ve been hanging out on a dating site (where I met Randi Sue)  and discovered a woman I knew years ago.  I met her in the fall of 2002 and we had a casual, platonic relationship for about seven months.  I started seeing another woman in May 2003, began a sexual affair with her,  and my friendship with Rhyanna slid into obscurity.  I recognized her photos on the dating site and contacted her.  We’re having supper or something this evening.  I need to call her later today to firm up our plans.  I’m looking forward to it.

That’s about all for now!  Pretty quiet in comparison to the last few weeks!

My life isn’t all about being “queer.”  There are many facets to my life.  I’ve been partnered in a heterosexual marriage for almost 35 years now.  I was dating my husband’s male housemate when I was introduced to Dave in early 1971.  Shortly after meeting Dave, I stopped seeing Andrew, his housemate.  Andrew was  a man I had been dating for eight months, although all but about three-and-a-half of those months had been conducted behind my parents’ backs since they had forbidden me to see him.  (I was 15, Andrew was 23.  Hmmm, parents were worried and scared.  Wonder why??)

I have had an on-again/off-again relationship/friendship with Andrew for many years.  We’re not lovers.  We’ve had sex a time or two, the last time many years ago, but we’re not lovers.  He has romanticized and idealized me since he’s been 23 as the “leading lady of his innermost being.”  Or something like that.  I and my husband have remained his friends, and I’ve tried in many ways to open his eyes to the woman that is me in real life and not in fantasy.  I’m afraid I haven’t had that much success.

I gave him the link to this blog and encouraged him to read some of it, to become acquainted with the details that currently comprise my life.  He finally screwed up his courage and read at least parts of it.  He actually submitted a three-paragraph comment yesterday on the entry “In Love….Or Not.”  I didn’t consider that three-paragraph comment appropriate for public viewing and deleted it, but I’m going to reprint the first paragraph of that comment here:

‘Well, I dragged my feet in getting around to reading this.  I felt some kind of anxiety about what I might  read.  There is a working dichotomy within me between really wanting to know you and clinging to my  romanticisms about you.  Finding out that I am not on your short list does wrench my gut .  Strange that I should feel this response, though, the feelings I have are long and deep, but not so intense, now.  I think that age and decreasing testosterone levels have something to do with it, as you have written…”

I wondered how he would react to discovering at the age of 61 that he is not on my Short List, and now I know!  He’s got a wrench in his gut.

I spent two hours last night composing an email to him, and this is what I said:

Andrew,

It is such a telling remark you made: “…I dragged my feet in getting around to reading this. I felt some kind of anxiety about what I might read.  There is a working dichotomy within me between really wanting to know you and clinging to my romanticisms about you…”

I’ve always known this about you, yet this is the first time I’ve ever heard you say anything so honest, so truthful, about our relationship.  Ironically, the only thing I’ve ever wanted from you in my adult life is for you to know me as the woman who exists in reality, not the idealized, romanticized version you have of her.  Quite bluntly, having you love the romanticized, idealized image of me that you harbor in your mind means nothing to me.  Having you love the woman who exists in the day-to-day world, the woman who is three-dimensional in all her strengths, weaknesses, musings, foibles, needs, and wants, – good and bad – is what would mean something to me.   Knowing me the way my closest friends and my husband know me, and loving me and accepting me as they do for the myriad of mainstream and diverse qualities I bring to the world, is what would add substance to our relationship.  I’ve given you this chance on a number of occasions, and I continue to do so.

When I assigned a number to my occasions of being “in love” — and I always put this in quotes because I feel that every person’s definition of ”in love” is different and completely subjective — I vacilliated on this and came to several different answers before finally deciding on one.

It probably comes as the biggest surprise to me that ultimately I did not put my high school best friend, Jane, the woman I first made love to when I was 15, on that list, although she was on the first mental “draft” of that list.  Then I thought further about it and realized that what I felt for her was not really my definition of “in love.”  I loved her very much; I have no argument or hesitation with that.  She loved me as well.  We often spoke of our love for each other and said those words, “I love you,” to each other.  I loved her with the depth that I would feel for a dear sister or a life-long best friend, and the great sex between us added a certain dimension of interest and color to the relationship, but I was not “in love” with her.  It was a revelation to me when I decided not to put her on that Short List after the tremendous impact she has had on my life.

I didn’t put Larry on that list, even though he was a very heavy-duty “crush” during my freshman year in high school, and the bottom fell out of my stomach and I felt dizzy every time I saw him at the skating rink.  I fantasized about him.  I had his picture up in my locker at school.  I wrote his name all over my notebooks.  I wanted to be his girlfriend in the worst way!  Was I “in love?”  No!  I was an adolescent in the throes of a hormonally-driven lust, infatuated for some unknown reason with a guy I didn’t even really know and hadn’t even dated, in very much the same way as girls were swooning over Donny Osmond and Paul McCartney and Davey Jones of  The Monkees.  From my 52-year-old perspective, that  kind of infatuation is not the same as being “in love,” so Larry was dropped from the Short List.  Had you asked me when I was 14 if I was “in love” with Larry, I would have given the world a resounding “yes!”

Why did Frenchie make it onto the Short List?  I don’t really know, considering that ours was a relationship of two terribly mismatched individuals.  It never would have survived if it had ever gone as far as an engagement or a marriage.  (At least, I don’t think so, but who’s to say?)  But for some irrational reason, he stays on that list, maybe in memory of the depth of my feelings at the time…and maybe just in his memory.  He died in 2000 when he was 52-years-old.

What about Andrew?  Why did he ultimately not make it onto the Short List?

There is no question that something profound was going on during that summer I turned 15, and you were involved.  If I were to merely look at the feelings I had that summer of 1970 and ask myself if I was “in love,” the answer at that time would be yes.  From a 15-year-old’s perspective, I was “in love” with you that summer.

From an adult perspective as the 52-year-old woman I am now, what was going on that summer was a combination of extreme adolescent rebellion and an infatuation with a man I didn’t know very well at all.  The forbidden aspect of the relationship that my parents imparted to it added a whole complex array of intense emotion to what was going on.  It was a jumble of adolescent emotion and growth, both normal and dysfunctional, given what was going on in my nuclear family at the time. 

After we had been dating out in the open with parental consent for two or three months, I knew I wasn’t really “in love” when I couldn’t come right out and say it to you.  You wanted me to, but when it came down to it, I couldn’t say it and mean it.  It was then that I first started to realize the complexity of what all had gone on during the preceeding six months or so.  Something else was going on than a 15-year-old being “in love!”  That’s what the grown-up woman says.

Does this mean that we don’t have a caring, long-term relationship?  No, not at all.   The proof is in the 38 years we’ve known each other!  I love you as a devoted friend, as someone who will always be a part of my life!  I want to be there for you as a friend, as “family” who will be there and withstand the test of time.  I know that it doesn’t sound at all “romantic,” and it’s not, but it’s stable and steadfast and it will always be there for you.

So, you decide whether you want to know the real me after all these years or your romanticized version of me that you’ve held for so long.  I’ve probably given you all the “links” you’ll ever need if you want to know the real me.

In loving friendship,

Kinsey

Edit: No response whatsoever as of June 2, 2008 from the recipient of this letter.  Both my husband and other close friend who read this said that it was a very well-written letter, and I don’t take their opinions lightly.  However, it must have left Andrew speechless! 

I got up this morning to this in my Gmail account from Randi Sue whom I haven’t seen face-to-face since the evening of May 1.  (Keep in mind that I just met this woman on April 18!):

Dear Kinsey,

I feel like we are not finished.  Whether we are friends or lovers or something else needs to be discussed.  You are an important part of my life, if we never saw each other again (which I think is unlikely) you will still be my first.  I am glad you will never understand that sex can be both good and bad, but it was just good with you.

I really think that a person, at least this person, can truly love many people.  Why do I think this?  Because I am a parent of two children.  I do not love one child to the exclusion of the other.  The love of my youngest child does not diminish the love of my oldest child.

If you feel that I am not giving you the space you need let me know.  I know that I can be intense, but that is a strength as well as a weakness.  Do not fear that I will ever want to hurt you.

I am putting the ball in your court.  Let me know how you feel.

Seeking the truth in love,

Randi Sue

****************************

I promptly replied, half-asleep this morning:

Randi Sue:

If a relationship as lovers is going to develop in a way that I am comfortable with — and that’s an “if,” — it needs time to do that.  It doesn’t happen for me in a matter of hours or days.  I need to feel comfortable with lovemaking and outward displays of affection as much as you do, and I’m not there with it.  My needs are not driven by intense emotion right now.  They’re driven more by logic and grounding and how relationships fit into my current lifestyle.

If you want to be friends, I think that is good.  I think we enjoy each other’s company.  I don’t want to feel pressured in any way to be your lover.  I still actually think that your needs would be best fulfilled by a person who can give you her undivided devotion in a relationship rather than getting romantically involved with me who might see you once every other week.

So, that’s what I think in a very disjointed way this morning.  I’m not fully awake and need to get out the door to work.  I’m tired.

Take care,

Kinsey

******************

Dear Kinsey,

Thank you for getting back to me quickly, I do appreciate that.  I am sorry I wasn’t very clear in my last letter.  I agree with you that continuing as lovers is not what would be best for either of us.  I want to be able to develop our friendship while honoring the physical, emotional, and romantic connection that we have shared.  If sometime in the future the romantic and physical relationship develops I would not reject it, but I am not expecting it either.

I have felt like you have been trying to distance yourself from me.  I don’t want to be a pest.  I would like a friendship where either feels free to check in with the other, whenever.  I am not very elegant or articulate in my writing,  perhaps I am not in talking either, but I feel more comfortable in face to face conversation.  I think that my last letter titled “Unfinished”, was an attempt to reach out and say I would like to talk with you, “if” you want to talk with me.

I hope you had a good weekend.  Did you enjoy the Bi Brunch/Meeting?  Did you do anything else interesting?  I had a very full weekend, the MN Trans Health Fair on Friday and Saturday, and then Mothers Day with my mom.

Randi Sue

*******************

Randi Sue,

“I have felt like you have been trying to distance yourself from me.  I don’t want to be a pest.  I would like a friendship where either feels free to check in with the other, whenever.”

We’re free to “check in” with each other at any time!  As for myself, I’m not a telephone talker.  I hate the telephone.  Even when Dave is out-of-town, he seldom calls me on the phone just to “chat.”  That’s why I turn my cell phone on once a month.  I’m a writer and a journaler and an e-mailer, for the most part, and a face-to-face communicator when those occasions can be arranged.

I’d be happy to get together with you for an outing of some sort but not if the conversation is going to center on “where are we?  What’s going on between us?   Where is it going to go?”  Could we go out and just enjoy what we’re doing and let a relationship go where it’s destined to go in a healthy way for now?

The Bi Brunch was fun.  About a dozen people showed up.  The meeting was productive.  The food was good.  I had a fellow BOP member from Woodbury go with me.  I had met her at the one Chic Chat I went to.  Interestingly enough, she is also a novice beader and wants to learn more about that so I invited her over to my house Wednesday evening.  We’ll spread the beads out on the kitchen table, play around with them, and I’ll try to give her some tips on putting together some creations.  Should be fun.

We celebrated Dave’s birthday at Trevina Restaurant in South St. Paul Saturday evening.  It was a very enjoyable evening. 

I lost two pounds during the five days that Dave was gone last week.  After going out to eat Friday night, Saturday night, and having three servings of T’s enchilada casserole yesterday, I had put on a pound for the week!  This has got to stop!

Dave wants to go up to Duluth/Two Harbors this next weekend, leaving on Friday after work and coming back on Sunday.  If I can get the neighbors to cat-sit, we’ll go.  Maybe he’ll get his fishing pole in the water, if the weather is nice.

Take care,

Kinsey

*********************************

Watch out or you’ll end up in my novel!!

An excerpt from the 90-page manuscript from Behind Door #3, written when I was in my early 20s as a means of working through and gaining insight about my sexual orientation:

Wednesday, August 14, 1974     Evening

Dear Mom and Dad,

  The time has come for me to write this difficult letter.  I’ve put it off for much too long already, and there really isn’t much sense in waiting any longer.  I will say right off that the reason for writing you a letter about it instead of just talking with you is not to impersonalize it but simply to make sure that certain things get said.  Talking about it has given me more than its share of difficulty, so rather than face the prospect of mumbling through a few incoherent phrases in a panic, I decided that I would sit down in private and organize my thoughts.  It seems to be the best way to get this job done.

  To state a lengthy and complicated situation in its simplest terms, I’m gay.  I’ve had myself in one hell of a mess this past year, trying to come to grips with that.  I was in so much of a mess for most of that time that I couldn’t even admit to myself what I’ve been struggling with.  In fact, the admission has really only come about within the last six weeks or so.

    Not the struggle came on suddenly this past year.  No, the feelings have been there for years now, going way back into childhood, but  they were usually weak and undefined when they would occasionally surface, and in my panic that they may just mean something some day, I always managed to beat them back into the darkness.  I never let that 3:00 A.M. feeling in the pit of my stomach get the better of me!

   During this past year, however, those feelings abandoned the timidity of their youth and took on a startling new force.  Repressing them was no longer accomplished with a few Hail Marys!  They were demanding to be recognized, and I just wasn’t ready to do it!

   Suddenly I found myself in the predicament of devoting an enormous amount of energy into running from these feelings.  As you pointed out to me, Dad, in the middle of the night following one of my recent nightmares, this energy was coming from the energy I had available to do useful, productive things. The resulting drain quickly began to take its toll on my physical and emotional health, as we all witnessed.

   All of a sudden, I realized that I couldn’t go on like that anymore.  A new approach was very obviously in order!  I knew that the energy required to deal with this issue was going to be tremendous, but it could in no way compare to the longterm drain of running from it.  It was a slow, painful struggle, but I was finally able to admit my situation and take some steps to deal with it.

  With this new approach, I realized that I had some choices in front of me.  From my perspective, they are:

  (1) I could continue to be “nonpracticing.”  Call it celibacy or the priesthood or whatever you want.  It still boils down to a running game. The method of dealing with it is still a form of denial and self-rejection.  Its sole redeeming quality is that at least no one suspects what you’re not dealing with!  However, I need a special closeness in life with someone, and if I forbid myself to have a gay relationship, I am left with no other fulfilling option.  I decided that it was a quick way of finishing the job of driving myself crazy.

  (2) I could practice my sexuality in secret and therefore “protect” my loved ones from this aspect of my life.  At first glance, that option held a definite appeal by minimizing the risk of rejection and other conflicts.  However, I felt a vague, nagging uneasiness about this choice, and after thinking about it for awhile (and talking it over with a dear and trusted friend who has been there), I realized why.  The furtiveness and necessary deceptions, the inevitable guilt because of the deceptions, the fragmentation involved in maintaining such a complicated juggling act would produce a great deal of stress.  The prospect of developing a well-balanced life and a happy, satisfying relationship seems doomed from the start under such conditions.  I don’t care to set myself up for that failure.

  My third option is laying aside celibacy and secrets and being openly what I am: a man who finds deep joy and pleasure in loving another man.  In spite of the problems this choice is sure to bring, it’s the only option in this list that will truly allow me to get my act together and give a relationship a chance at success.

  That success is very important to me because “a relationship” is not merely a dream of mine anymore.  It’s very real and very alive right now, and  I have no intention of letting it die while still in the pangs of its birth.  I’m not going to stand by and watch while it disintegrates in front of my eyes because I was too scared to do anything else. It’s taken me a year-and-a-half of miserable indecision before deciding to give it this chance, but I’m firmly convinced that it deserves this chance, and it’s going to have it.  I’ve given my vote for what’s behind Door #3.

 Which is, of course, why I had to write this letter.  You’ve got to know the truth of my situation so that I can get on with the business of dealing with it in the way that I think is best for me.  If there were another way of accomplishing that without hurting you with this, I’d gladly take that route, but I frankly don’t see a good alternative.  For my own selfish reasons, you have to know the truth, in spite of the pain this truth may bring.

  As I write this, I feel horribly panic-stricken inside, fearing that I’m risking what is most important and treasured to me — my parents’ love — for……what?  I’m not even sure yet!  I hope and pray that I still have your love, for I desperately need it and would consider it my most valuable asset right now.  But I also realize that there are some things that some people just can’t understand or accept.  I will­ understand if you can’t.

 I love you both very much. You’ve been the most important people to ever become a part of my life.  When I called out for you in that Emergency Room five years ago, Dad, you dropped what you were doing and came to my rescue.  It changed my life, bringing me into the circle of a loving family and filling my heart with a hope that I never before knew.            

 Believe me, not a single day goes by that I don’t give thanks for that! 

                          Randy 

My husband and I have had quite a few open discussions about transgenderism (is that a word?) lately due to my recent relationships with two more trans individuals.  I’ve been thinking about why I have such a laid-back whatever attitude towards it when others struggle with this situation.

My first experience with a trans individual was with a woman who was in her late 30s at the time I met her, and I must have been about 22.  I didn’t know that she was a trans individual at the time I met her.  Perhaps she didn’t, either.  It wasn’t discussed.  I just knew that she was a “dyke,” a very nonfeminine lesbian, and she was very interested in having me as her lover.  I succumbed to her pursuits and had sex with her a couple of times.  On the second occasion, I actually got some of her clothes off and discovered that she was wearing men’s briefs underneath her jeans.  I didn’t comment on it.  In an intuitive way, I sort of understood what it was about and didn’t feel the need to mention it.

I drifted away from the church congregation that we were both members of, and I went for maybe a year without seeing her.  I coincidentally showed up at church again after a long absence on the day of her commitment ceremony to Kate which followed the regular service.  I knew nothing about this, nor did I realize all the changes that had taken place during that time I had been gone.  During the commitment ceremony, Tara was called “David.”  (No, I don’t use people’s real names in these posts.)  At the reception in the church basement, I offered my congratulations to the couple, and Tara told me that her name was now legally “David.”  S/he was on testosterone therapy and making the transition to living as a man.  I was glad for her/him (okay, the pronouns are hard when you’ve known a person as one sex and then he/she switches it on you at some point!) and said so.  It seemed like the way that “David” would be happiest, and I knew that.

It was during my relationship with Tara that I met Max.  I was sitting next to Tara during a church service and the minister asked for prayers for Max who was in the hospital.  I leaned over and asked Tara what Max was in the hospital for.  “A hysterectomy,” she said.

“Oh,” I said.  And nothing more needed to be said.  That one surprised me because I had only known Max as Max and never even had an inkling that Max had female sex organs.  He had already had his mastectomy before I met him.  I became good friends with Max and visited him in the hospital when he underwent his first surgical procedure to construct a semblance of a penis and saw firsthand what cosmetic procedures were being attempted.  I was a friend, and I was interested, and I accepted it for what it was.

There was a man named Kenny in our church congregation at this time as well.  On the first Sunday after New Year’s, Kenny showed up to direct the choir as Victoria.  He/she had made the public transition to start the new year.  Again, I took this all in and quietly acknowledged the situation, having to say that Victoria looked a hell of a lot more attractive as Victoria than she did as Kenny!

A lot of years went by — 17 to be exact — while I was abstinent from sexual relationships with women and absent from publically hanging out with the GLBT community in any organized way.  Then I started dating again.  I had a three-year relationship with Maura.  After we stopped seeing each other, the next person I dated was a MTF trans woman.  She said she felt very comfortable with me.  I learned a lot about “transition” from her: emotionally, psychologically, and physically.

I’ve known several other MTF trans women since then.  They said as well that they felt comfortable with me.  I was easy to talk to, easy to be with.

It’s just me being me.  I have had a natural, easygoing attitude about sex since I started to learn about it as a pubescent child.  I had a keen interest in sexual matters, not just from the usual childhood curiosity standpoint but from the medical and scientific standpoint as well.  I was born too late to be one of Dr. Alfred Kinsey’s associates, but I well could have been if I had been a peer in his era!  From finding the library copy of Dr. Kinsey’s Sexual Response in the Human Female in my room as a high school freshman to Everything You Always Wanted to Know About Sex (But Were Afraid to Ask) on my nightstand as a sophomore and The Sensuous Man in my collection as a junior, I drove my parents nuts with my unabashed interest in human sexuality.  My somewhat explicit journaling while still in high school turned my mother completely gray-haired and ashen-faced!

Nothing much shocks me.  Nothing much surprises me in the realm of human sexuality.  I’ve always believed that we in Western society have done ourselves more harm than good by the puritanical attitudes we’ve maintained over the centuries about our own sexuality.  Yes, I believe in sexual ethics.  I believe that sexual behavior should be shared in a loving manner,  mindful of and responsible for the potential consequences of that behavior.  However, those ethics don’t develop in a healthy way in the midst of inhibited attitudes and shame.

As a teenager, I became acquainted with and embraced my bisexuality, learning early in my life that there are more shades of gray in our sexuality than clear lines of demarcation.  I know that I have many fluid, androgynous qualities.  I move comfortably between my male traits and my female traits, embracing them all as a part of me.  I don’t feel any discomfort about loving men and loving women.  Even my male alter ego can love a man as well as a woman!  It’s all just part of me and the full spectrum of feelings and desires that I’m able to experience.

Do I understand gender dysphoria, the feeling of being the other gender while carrying the chromosomes and primary sexual characteristics of the genetic sex?  No, I don’t.  I’ve never stood in those shoes.  I’ve got XX chromosomes and sex organs and have always felt comfortable with my identity as a woman.  I don’t know what causes gender dysphoria in some individuals.  I’d like to know more about it, but I’m not sure that science has the answer to that situation so I haven’t done any review of the literature on it.  I may at some point just to see what I can glean from it, but I’m anticipating that it’ll be a hodge-podge and mishmash of stuff, perhaps much of it contradictory and all of it inconclusive.

What I’ve done is accept.   I don’t understand and comprehend gender dysphoria in a personal sense.  I don’t think I really can from my perspective.  I accept that it exists.  I accept that gender reassignment is the solution for some people in this situation.  I accept that their basic needs are the same as everyone else’s. 

That’s what I understand.

I’m trying to develop a social network within the bisexual community here in the Twin Cities.  I’m trying to do my part towards supporting a sense of community for the bisexual population  within the GLBT community.  I believe in this cause.  It’s been sorely lacking in my own life, and I would imagine that many people who identify as bisexual feel the same sense of aloneness and isolation in their lives.

The only group I’ve connected with so far here in the Twin Cities that seems to have any merit in this regard is the Bisexual Organizing Project, and they have a grand total of 240 members, a handful of which participate in any social events!  That seems like a very low number considering the rather substantial bisexual population that must surely exist here in a large, liberal metropolitan area.  However, it is what it is.  (Organizing bisexuals is a lot like herding cats, a whole line of thinking reserved for another post!)

The monthly “bi brunch” is being held this Sunday at a member’s home northwest of Minneapolis, followed by the every-other-month board meeting.  I’ve vaciliated about attending.  I’ve been tending more towards going rather than not going since finding out through the Yahoo Group postings that Millie is otherwise occupied on Mother’s Day! 

I extended an offer to Anne to ride with me to the brunch and meeting on Sunday, aware that she currently does not have a car and relies mostly on public transit.  I’m not going to let that relationship of two “dates” duration deter me from getting involved with the group.  I have absolutely no ill feelings towards Anne.  I wanted to be her friend.

My husband has no ill feelings towards me being friends with Anne.  He stated that he had some trouble wrapping his head around my potential sexual involvement with trans women, and he further went on to later refine this discomfort to say that he has trouble with the concept of me getting sexually involved with pre-surgical trans women.  I understand this feeling, even though I don’t share his same level of discomfort.  I respect his feelings, especially since they were stated in a very appropriate personal ownership of these feelings without any demands, ultimatums, slams or insults in any way associated with his sharing of these feelings.

We’ve talked quite a lot about this whole situation in recent days, and I’m impressed with the level of honesty, open communication, and non-defensive sharing that has gone on.  I’ve acknowledged his feelings.  He’s acknowledged mine, and we’re learning from each other.  Saturday night, I did draw my line in the sand, which was this: “I understand your feelings about my potential sexual relationships with trans women, particularly pre-surgical trans women, but I expect that they’ll always be welcomed warmly as friends in our home and treated no differently than anyone else in that regard.” 

He was firm in his agreement of that position.  “Absolutely!” he stated.  “Of course!” 

Of course, I never expected that there would be any problem with that aspect of my relationships.  He’s a good man, not a bigot, not a “red neck,” not narrow-minded and rigid in his beliefs.  He’s trying to wrap his head around a complex set of issues, a set of issues that his own personal experiences have not covered in his life, and I respect him for the effort he puts into expanding his insights.

Anne, however, appeared to reject my offer of friendship.  The feeling I got was that if she can’t have me as a lover, then she doesn’t want my company.

So be it.  You can’t have everyone as your lover.  Some people are platonic friends, and that is well and good.

The Bisexual Organizing Project with its 240 members appears to be its own little ”Peyton Place,” with members having romantic and sexual partnerships with each other.  That seems to be a complicating factor in its dynamics.  Probably even interferes with its smooth operation at times, depending on who is sleeping with whom and who isn’t anymore, etc.!  I really would like to keep those complications to a minimum if I’m going to get more involved with this group!

Anne turned me down for the ride to the Brunch and Board Meeting on Sunday.  I told her to let me know if she changes her mind, that her contribution and input to the group is welcomed and appreciated.

I want to support this community, not do things to cause conflict and ill will.  Let’s pray I succeed. 

Randi Sue was over to our house this past Thursday evening and met Dave.  We then went out to a local family restaurant and had a bite to eat, just the two of us.  I wanted to tell her about my feelings regarding our relationship, that my feelings in no way matched the intensity of her feelings, given the less than two weeks we had known each other, and that I was deeply concerned that her intensity and impulsivity was going to steer her down a path best not taken with me.  I am never going to be her “one-and-only,” and I don’t want to deter her from seeking that in a partner.  The truth is that I’m not focused on finding a “steady girlfriend” right now and being her exclusive partner.  I need a social support system in the bisexual community, not a lot of romantic entanglements to potentially hamper that process.  (As it is, I didn’t go to the monthly Bisexual Organizing Project’s girls-night Chic Chat last night because I was concerned I’d end up in an awkward situation with either Anne, Millie, or both!)   

I couldn’t say all those painfully truthful things, though.  She is so emotionally needy that I just couldn’t get the blunt words out.  I told her that I’m concerned about the “in love” aspect of her feelings and overwhelmed by it, but I couldn’t go into hard, cold honesty that it’s freaking me out and I don’t want to be in that situation with her.  It’s an imbalanced dynamic between the two of us, and that’s not good for either one of us.

Friday morning, I took about 60% of the middle section of that previous post titled “In Love…or Not” and posted it to my journal on the dating site through which we met.  She looks at my profile a couple of times a day.  Why, I don’t know, but she does, and I knew that she’d see the condensed version of my WordPress post there.  Later that day, I got the following email from her:

On 5/2/08, Randi Sue wrote:

 Dear Kinsey,

    I am not sorry that I shared my feelings with you.  I am sorry that we don’t share those feelings, but whatever will be will be.  I am an intensely emotional being.  I need to learn to protect myself from being hurt and still love freely.  I hope I can find a balance.

    I wish we had more time to talk yesterday.  I am glad I can talk with you.

    I would like to continue our friendship.  I like talking to you,  I care about you.  I don’t think that I can have a sexual relationship without being in love. I need and deserve love in my life.

Always,
Randi

And I responded with:

From: Kinsey
Date: May 2, 2008 12:24 PM
Subject: Re: Love
To: Randi

Yes, Randi, you need and deserve love, as much of it as you can get.  And if you need to be in love to have a sexual relationship, then that is what you should do.  That is why I’m pulling back from having that sexual relationship with you.  I don’t share that same level of intensity right now and may never.  I haven’t had enough time to tell if that’s where it could lead, given my own personal emotional composition and needs in life.

You need to find the person(s) who can feel as deeply as you do and who are free to get as involved as deeply as you would like to.  It needs to be a reciprocal relationship in order to give you the satisfaction, pleasure and fulfillment you need.  You deserve that, and I’d love to see you find it!

I would like for us to be friends, too.  I enjoy talking with you and doing things with you.  I care about you, too, and want what’s best in the long run.

Take care,

Kinsey

I think the romantic, sexual relationship with her is over now, and frankly, I’m relieved.  I felt way in over my head on this one, and that’s not a comfortable feeling at all!

And my husband once more reminded me to keep my pants on until it’s a little clearer what and who I’m getting involved with.  He said with a smirk that some tendencies just seem to be hardwired into my chromosomes, but I really should try to practice some restraint before getting into these sexual situations too early in a relationship!

 I agreed with him. 

 Enough said.