Posts Tagged ‘touch the ground’


Performance anxiety

March 15, 2009

BF asked if the sex has gone downhill in the year we’ve been dating.  I suppose the novelty has worn off.

When I don’t see BF for the better part of a week, due to work and busyness, I start to wonder if my relationship is pointless.   Like FWB all over again.

On the plus side, sex is often really good at the end of that week.

I don’t lust for him the same way I did a year ago, for better or worse.  That shit gets distracting, especially when you’re trying to write a senior thesis.  In class, on the bus to work, all these illicit daydreams and flashbacks of the night prior.

Part of his appeal was the element of uncertainty.  I’d always go to his place to study, and I’d make an effort to look nice, and I was always on edge at the prospect of getting fucked at the end of the night.  But it was no sure thing.

Part of it was wanting what I shouldn’t have.  I shouldn’t have been studying his body instead of my books.  I shouldn’t have been pursuing a guy rebounding from the love of his life.  I shouldn’t have fucked him on the couch at 2am while his roommate slept in the bedroom just feet away.  I shouldn’t have been sleeping with one of my best friends.

We’d been sleeping together for months before we started dating.  During that time, we pretended we were just friends when others were around.  I pretended I wasn’t in love with him.

I was struggling to keep my life together and graduate, and I think the sex was wrapped in lust, secrecy, and cravings for intimacy and validation.  Like how I imagine Catholic sex to be, or maybe Hester Prynne and Arthur Dimmesdale’s affair.

It was tortured, and cathartic, and flawed, and I couldn’t get enough.

I’m glad life has slowed considerably since then.  Perhaps too much.  But the crucible in which this relationship formed has cooled a little since.

I don’t want sex to be a chore.  I don’t want to overthink it and get performance anxiety.  I don’t want him to worry he’s an inadequate lay.

But Dan Savage and Betty Dodson are telling me I’m going to need to get to work.  Must get down and dirty with myself, and hisself, and start creating some fireworks.