As I said before, everything I'm telling you is the truth. I will do my best to be honest and upfront as simply as I can.
If I get too embarassed I'll tell you.
When I realized, I was not quite in control of the situation and, most definitely, my feelings, it was as if a part of me (the logical, analytical part) went behind the scenes to watch, guide and direct.
I'm not really sure how to articulate this. I knew I wasn't in complete control of myself and that was okay. I wanted to explore myself, my sexuality, my identity. I knew this could end badly for my heart, but I wanted to take that chance, I wanted to let myself explore all the emotions that could come from this, I wanted this experience.
I wanted to know what could become of a woman who allowed herself to live fully as she wanted, regardless of her moral upbringing. What would my emotions, my feelings and sense of self tell me? Would I hate myself?
Could I go through this experience, accept my actions and embrace them? I resolved that that was exactly what I wanted to do; connect with another person at whatever level this was, take full responsibility for my actions and behavior and not hate myself for whatever I decided to do.
I chose to see how I could grow from this. I deliberately forced myself to stop censoring me: To stop being in control.
I don't know about anyone else, although I suspect the same is true for some of you, I have lived my life with another voice always judging whatever I do: "Don't do that, it's not right. It's not proper."
And I've lived according to that: Dated, Married, Children - in that order. The proper order. I've never been drunk, done drugs, nothing that was completely improper. Don't get me wrong, I was never a saint and there are many who would say I pushed the envelope. But I would disagree. I was always conscious of being proper, of my reputation.
I told you in my last post that I looked up Ian online. Well, Ian was certainly not proper. He was, is, an artist - a visual artist. A successful one at that. He travelled the world, more than I did, he had interesting friends and acquaintenances. He moved among the beautiful people.
Now, my stomach dropped. What was he doing flirting with me? All my self doubt came back. Another guy playing games, notching his belt. Clearly, I felt inferior.
I read his interviews, read the reviews on his work, saw what he did for other people, the respect he displayed for women. And I decided, even if he was playing me, I would go with it. I would trust myself and him...to a degree.
The "him...to a degree" stuff, may just be me inventing, I'm not sure, if I'm being really honest here. I think, I decided to trust him, but I vascillated being wanting to believe his words and wanting to protect myself.
Whoever said birth was easy?
Despite wanting to free myself of all the usual female baggage: This has to lead somewhere. He's got to be perfect. He's taking advantage of me. I struggled to get my feelings of squarely taking responsibility for my own actions and feelings under control.
I wanted Ian to do and to say whatever he wanted. And I wanted me to accept it at face value and to leave everything else alone.
I didn't want to be the woman who needed to know where he was all the time. I didn't want to be the woman who needed to know what he was doing all the time. I wanted to be okay with whatever "this" was. But I couldn't.
I tried to stop our little flirtation, but failed. Again, I will reproduce our text conversations as they are, until they are too embarassing.
Me: This is ridiculous. We met yesterday (9 days ago as of August 12, 2012) and now we're engaged in a conversation that...can, only be seen as highly suggestive and I should stop. I have to go. Bye.
Ian: Oh my gosh...forgive me if I have crossed a line in the sand and offended you.
Me: No offense. I can see where these messages will lead. I'm not blaming you, I'm pushing to see how far I'm willing to go. And that is risky.
Ian: So push...perhaps I will push back.
Me: What's your number?
Ian: I'm a phone a phobe...so I am sans number. I like face to face and the dance of emails.
Yes, folks, I can see all the warning signals, very clearly. I chose to ignore them all. Sure, I made some feeble attempt to stop, to question. But that is not what this was about, was it? I wasn't about to stop now.
Me: Fine. I'm heading to the business. If you can, you can meet me, we can talk and end this, whatever "this" is, today.
Ian: End this? No friggin way.
Ian: Wait...r u being cryptic?
Me: No, I'm not. It's been a day. 1 day. And you've been on my mind way too much.
Ian: Yes, I have...as you mine.
Me: So you see how crazy this is? It has be stop. It's been 1 day.
Ian: Good. Think of me. Talk to me in your head and hear me talk to you too.
Me: 1 day. And we're speaking like we're lovers. Insane. I'm not thinking clearly.
Ian: Well all I know is, that I was bowled over...and just wanted to kiss that mouth.
Me: And what do you want now?
Ian: Much more than your mouth.
Me: I want to touch you...
Ian: Oh...that was a sexy thing to say.
Me: What else can I say...you've played me like your own instrument all day. You've set me afire.
Ian: ...my knees were wobbling a few times yesterday. I felt you dipping your toe in my pool...
Ian: I felt slapped deliciously by you yesterday.
Me: Well, today it's my turn. And my butterflies are mad and my knees wobble and my mouth aches...
Ian: Frenzied almost. And laughing as I continued down the street. Who are you? Just as I asked myself yesterday...who was that woman?
Ian: That gorgeous mouth...Ms...I want to breathe near it...on it...with it...
What can I tell you readers? We spun a web and I willingly walked into it, my heart pounding, my eyes glazed and my knees weak. This man entered my dreams - waking or sleeping. He walked beside me day and night. I let him fan the flames of a fire I never thought I would feel. I could not get enough.
Me: Right now, I'm lost. I see nothing but you, feel nothing but you. Want nothing, but you.
Ian: You have me too...I want to gently run my fingers along your skin. Taste your tongue.
Me: My heart's pounding. My ears are roaring and my blood is on fire. I have nothing to stop the noise, nothing to put out the fire.
Ian: So burn...and feel how wonderful the heat is. Burn me too.
Ian: Get on me...envelop me.
Ian: My muse.
Ian: I'm already starving for you.
Me: I'm in tears. I don't cry - ever. Nothing disrupts my world, the order I've built. Where did you come from? How did you do this? What do I do now?
Ian: Breathe and trust yourself and me.
Me: Fear, it's a terrible thing to see Ian. I should be more fearful then I am, and yet I am afraid. And so much more. I don't know what I'm doing, but I keep doing it. Goodnight Ian.
Ian: Sweet dreams my new best friend.
Lust, Infatuation. Desire and Need. I've got them all covered. They feel amazing. I felt amazing. I felt that I could walk on water. I looked up "infatuation" and they describe it as a drug. It acts on the brain, producing dopamine, which makes us feel good. Then norepinephrine flows stimulating adrenaline which causes the pounding heart.
Phenylethamlimine creates a feeling of bliss and oxytocin, a primary sexual arousal hormone that signals orgasm and feelings of emotional attachment come into play.
Together these chemicals sometimes override the brain activity that governs logic.
Of course, I would want this feeling. Of course, I would want more. It's what nature intended. Right?
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