If you’ve been following this blog, you know that a key concern of mine is my likability. I want you to like me, not just to come here for the prurient bits (which I do hope you like as much as I do), but also for the more introspective and/or thoughtful bits. Both Liza and L have recently weighed in (as has T, a bit, even further behind the scenes) on a key issue: my emotional availability and vulnerability.
L pointed out to me recently that, whereas in Liza’s blog, and Violet’s and Rye’s, and Guy New York’s, there is affect and emotion and tenderness shown between the various participants in escapades, here, there is little or none. (Guy New York, in particular, almost always ends his posts with a moment of tenderness and connection.)
I think this a good point, and one that gets at some interesting questions. I’ve been writing a bit about jealousy lately, here and elsewhere, and I think that there’s something important, to me, going on in my studious withholding of affect from my reports of the sex I have.
I would be jealous (as I have described in several places) were I to read accounts by T, or L (or even Liza, with whom I have hardly even a slightly flirtatious relationship) that were anything other than physical, logistical, mechanical. And so,to spare my wife, and to a lesser extent, L, I leave it all out. Or rather, to model that from which I hope they’ll spare me….
Which leaves me seeming, as Liza said, “aloof.” I’m sorry to my readers for this, and it pains me, not least because I think it’s just wrong. I think I’m the opposite: accessible, revealing, disclosing.
That’s a little self-serving: I’m sure I’m also protecting myself. I’d rather believe that L can’t “hurt” me, because it’s my cock, not my heart, that she has a grip on. But that’s not true, and I’ve gestured in that direction. I feel genuine warmth, affection, caring not just for L, but for her whole family. But it is interesting that I keep any such feelings out of – far away from – my depictions of our sex.
I don’t know exactly what to do with this insight, but I will work on it. Not because I “want to be more sympathetic,” as Liza put it (and I winced at the suggestion of performance, of inauthenticity), but because I want to be more honest and accurate and complete.