Thursday 26 January, 1998
Okay, I paid attention now, to not let another date with Bear fall into what appears to be a Bermuda triangle in my memory, where all the sex stuff disappears.
Or maybe other memories too, who knows. I find other areas of my life far less interesting and my expectations are much lower.
But sex, I expect to remember.
In December I even blamed alcohol for not remembering it although I knew it was good, because it is always good.
It is always fun.
Even when the second half of 1997, we did have some problems. I would not get that wet or things hurt, or honestly I cannot even remember the specifics. But I do know that both Bear and me saw it as a challenge. That we almost found it hilarious, that we had to deal with these common sexual hiccups, and we made it work.
Like I said; Always good. Always fun.
But the December date did not have that either. There were no problems. For lack of a better word, I suspected the sex had been normal.
So this year I made the resolution to pay attention, so that at least I knew if it had indeed been normal, or if I was suffering from amnesia and missing out on things that were worth writing down.
Things that befitted my ambition to become a serious diary and erotica writer, in the spirit of Anais Nin.
So I did pay close attention, and the date had the same format as in December because it was a dinner date. Something we do not have a habit around, because it is harder for him to see me. Or at least it was, when he still had a girlfriend. Something I still don’t know or understand if that is still the case. Maybe the fact that for the second time in a row he could come over at night time proves he’s available or things have flatlined for now.
But either way I felt lucky, very lucky. There is something so erotic, so mysterious, about having him come over for dinner. Especially in winter, when it’s already dark when the doorbell rings and I embrace him, cold face, thick coat, warm gloves, and bottle of red in his backpack.
And my house is warm, I have candles burning, and I’ve already started preparing dinner. Use Your Illusion album playing, which is not romantic to others but it is to us, because we saw them in 1992 in Rotterdam.
There is something tantalizing and special about night time dating, that lunch or even coffee dates will never be able to top.
I really think that after being sidelined for years, when he had the girlfriend and he even broke up with me, which was painful and awful, that after all that we are back to where we started.
We found back what we had.
Just that instead of our noisy student rooms, I now have an apartment, and we are more deliberate in our dates.
It’s not as casual as it was, when we were still students.
We’ve grown up and after the meager years of having to accept however little came my way, even when it was a coffee date on Monday morning with not as much as a cookie or cake because I didn’t know he would come, we are now finally back at the level we had in our college years;
On paper, we got it made and we are on our way to recover from whatever dent his relationship made in our reckless and restless, young heart’s love.
Except of course, we don’t.
Because now I forget the sex.
And I did not suffer from amnesia, I had been right: Sex was good and fun, and normal! Because this time I did pay attention, and it was exactly the nothing-out-of-the-ordinary sex as I suspected.
And this time, I know why.
The time of the day and the dinner dates are no longer working for us. I am not going to claim we would have earthshattering sex on a Monday morning coffee date now, but a warm lazy Sunday afternoon?
Or closing the curtains for us after a Wednesday lunch, to the sounds of a neighborhood already coming to life outside?
A date in a coffeeshop, or drinks in a bar? A movie and then after those things stalling if we’re going to my place or not?
Or to his, when he still had his own place…. Oh the memories. The possibilities! The already so much better atmosphere these scenarios have to me, just thinking about it.
Not in terms of love and coziness.
Not in terms of feeling good and safe.
But those casual situations do open up a feeling of excitement, adventure and sex, simply because it is never a given that we will even have it.
And then there is the role playing!
The first half of 1997 we had the best sex ever, in all the seven years (as it was then) we had been doing it. It was like we had discovered sex allover together. Like we had reinvented it.
And then the second half of the year hit, and I slipped into a very dark place.
When I saw Bear I was feeling great, there was never a question about that; But his presence went from being that little something extra, to the only days I truly felt alive.
Yes…. in retrospect, our good instead of great sex is more than just a matter of planning more strategically. I am not the same person as I was at the beginning of 1997.
So many bad things happened, things that really got to me, and that can still make me cry just thinking about it. Which I rarely do because I don’t want to.
One of the things I did, was completely shut off my heart. I was so deeply hurt, I still keep everybody at arm’s length, emotionally.
And I do that to this day.
I’ve become quite the ice queen, that crappy second half of 1997. In response to all those who hurt me, I ve shut myself off entirely.
In order to get my sex life back to the level it was one year ago, I do need to opt for days, not dinners, at least for now. But I also need to start breaking down that very effective wall I built around myself. A wall that has has kept me safe, and that has become my refuge.
A wall that has become my home.
To return to the deviant sex of early 1997, will require more than retrieving the dating style we used to have.
It will require to retrieve myself.
The nights are nice but the days are deviant | 1998 diary
is the third chapter of book 4, diary 1997-1998
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