Infidelity

Unlike the woman who wrote this book, my fling with infidelity didn't lead me to enlightenment, although it lead me to my new life. Neither did I become despondent, although it did hurt someone I cared about, and forced me to question everything about myself. At the time, I thought of one thing and only thing, to have the kind of sexual experience I wanted that was lacking in my marriage.

I will not lie, I felt alive, sexy even during it, even when if the consequences of my actions prayed on the back of my mind. But in the end it was a fantasy, not only mine but his. A fantasy that we can keep this secret forever, that I can live a lie. The other truth I must admit, I don't regret it, well not most of it. I do regret with whom I had the affair, how I hurt myself and my husband.

Does that make me an evil person? A slut? What if I told you that I was atoning for my sins but putting myself in a self-imposed exile? I am...but it doesn't matter. I've been admonished by friends who have had their own brush with infidelity.

Yet, I'm expected to tell you to not do it. I won't. It was never my place to make judgments in the affairs of the hearts. There are never good reasons to do it, but as someone who went into this with her eyes open, logic never enters into the equation.

I know that I am not the only one who did this. But if this post is any indication, infidelity leaves more questions than it answers.

Coming out as a heterosexual

I was having a conversation last night with a friend. Invariably, the topic came up about my sexuality, how I wanted to integrate my sexuality into my life and turn it into a positive force rather than let it become the focus as it has been for the last two years. We began joking about celebrating it, letting it be known that I'm this person. And so we started to plot my awakening...as a heterosexual.

As the conversation progressed, we talked about having a party, having penises party favors, just make affirmations among my friends and family. Then I realized, yes...I do have to affirm it, make a public display of this. I have to come out as a heterosexual. A big one.

For the past two years, my sexuality could not be denied any longer, and I indulged it despite the risks. But now that I'm "atoning" for the wrongs I did because of this exploration, I still must face this sexual journey I had taken, despite the consequences blowing up in my face. I can't leave stop now...stopping now means not dealing with this, not growing.

So...I'm having to go forward...having to redefine my sexuality. But how do I do it so that I can show everyone it is a positive experience for me? During the conversation he kept referring it as a "problem". To be fair, he was trying to describe it as others would see it. Its not a problem, but I'm a woman who freely admits that I love sex, I want it, and I want cock. Unfortunately, I'm suppose to cower in shame for these statements.

Tonight I was reading one of my favorite bloggers...his post lead me here. Granted this is about the lack of language of how a woman "fucks" a man. But even at that primal level, we can't even concede that a woman wants to fuck without resorting to euphemisms. Personally, I love to use the words such as "engulf" and "take"....even "fuck". Even the description of the act of taking a man's engorged penis inside my eager vagina becomes a ground zero discussion of sex and feminism. What hopes do I have of showing my own sexuality in a positive light with the people I love without contempt or pity?

Obviously, this will be a huge undertaking. Yet, despite the hurdles, I know that I must do this. This journey was not started to end at this point.

Ghost

and i guess that's how you started
like a pinprick to my heart
but at this point you rush right through me
and i start to drown
-Ghost by Indigo Girls

No matter how busy you think you are or how hurt or sad you are to deal with your emotions, once in awhile, I catch myself confronting glimpses of my old life.

None more so when I was traveling up to Santa Rosa, picking up and buying a chair I find on Craigslist one Saturday morning. It was the first time I drove up that way, on Hwy 101, on my own, in my new car. The flood of memories didn't really hit me until I hit Novato, as I remembered the rolling hills of the North Bay. I remembered all the trips I took with my husband on the driver seat, going to points up north, where the Redwoods meet the Ocean. I saw cows grazing on the side of the freeway, catching myself saying "moocows" as if he was there with me. Although there was a twinge of sadness, of not being able to share a familiar moment, I felt happy. I had forgotten how beautiful the drive was up here, how somewhat calming to see hills, valleys and fields.

I sometimes feel his presence around me, even if we are no longer physical with one another. It haunts me when I'm particularly feeling vulnerable and alone. And yet, I sort of like it. Not because I long for his touch, because I haven't lost that connection somehow.

Even if we were no longer talking and hated the site of each other, I don't think I could stop the ghost of him, of us, from assaulting me from time to time. And yes, perhaps I will not be in the space to accept it. But I wouldn't want those visitations to stop. If only to remind me of some nice memories.