“Why don’t you want a long-term relationship?” is what I get asked all the time as if my choice is somehow lesser. I can hear their brains ticking over: Are you a slut? Are you messed up? Afraid of love? I rattle off a list of viable replies, all true, but the reality is:
I am a promiscuous woman and I love it. I enjoy men, many, many men. I own my sexuality and I have very high standards. I am not easy. The world may vilify me because of my desires and appetite, but I live beyond the world. I’m a seeker of truth.
Some people get offended by that, some people jealous, and others are threatened. All of them try to undermine my worth. I get preached to that it’s not ‘natural’ to have so many partners, that it is in our genes to couple, in our prehistoric survival, even. What do I say to that:
I’m a highly evolved being living on the frontier of human existence. My intellect overrules my primitive instincts, my conscience is stronger than social constructs, religion and patriarchy, and my heart is open and free to the universe. I’m a new breed of human. I choose my life.
No, I’m not looking for a long-term romantic relationship and yes, that makes me different from the rest, but in no way does that diminish the value of my experiences. All my relationships fulfil me in some way or another no matter how short. They are unique, intimate moments shared between two strangers, which glorifies the human connection. In the last year alone, I have had many liaisons with men, more than what can be counted on both our fingers and toes. I have had some amazing experiences–a dream for many. I have learnt so much about men, pleasure and myself – invaluable lessons about what it means to be human. To open your heart to a complete stranger, the courage it takes, and the rewards received…
But the question – Why don’t you want a long-term relationship? – is not really what they are asking. They want to know why I don’t want love, as if love can only exist with long-term intensions. They are under the impression that if you don’t want a love to last forever, then it is not real, true or valuable. Well, that’s just bullshit.
Unbeknownst to all, I have fallen in love again and again in the past year–I have met some incredible men, and I couldn’t help it. The more I love doesn’t mean I love less – my love is as deep and passionate as any human being – I just choose to fall in love more freely. I don’t have to bind myself to someone because of it. There is joy in just loving, even for a breath.
There was one boy…
…I wasn’t supposed to see his face. I entered his house and he was waiting for me hooded, on all fours, naked. For six hours I tortured him. I remember distinctly when the moment turned. He asked if he could touch my face to make sure he wasn’t just dreaming, that I existed–he had the hood on all that time. “Yes,” I whispered, a little unsure. As soon as his fingers touched my cheek, we fell into a mad swirl of emotion. Our lips collided in a furious passion. I hadn’t been consumed by such raw desire in a long while. In the heat of the moment he took off his hood and we looked into each other’s eyes for the first time. Suddenly I was just a woman and he was just a man, and that’s when I fell. Cupping my face in his hands, he set his beautiful full lips on mine again, the strength of his conviction ploughing straight though me. But my time had run out, I had to go. So he walked me to the station like a gentleman. Did we fuck? No. It was agonising not to. We’ve had all intentions of seeing each other again, and I can imagine the whirlwind if we did, but living in different countries… life getting in the way… we’ve fallen out of contact. Yes, when I travel I can see him again, but some part of me doesn’t want to. What we had was perfect.
…I had been sussing out online. He was the first sub ever I was considering a relationship with, so naturally I had got down to the nitty-gritty of him. He was romantic and passionate, and had such a way with words that he made me swoon every time we conversed. We met for a weekend, something I don’t generally do because I know how strangely close you can get to a perfect stranger locked in a hotel room for 72 hours. His enthusiasm and brightness was so endearing that it struck a cord with the affectionate part of me. Our dynamic was more tender than I was used to, putting me a little off balance, making me more vulnerable to him. There were certain moments that I knew I was dangerously close to falling, like when I was spooning him and caressing his body after a long pegging session, and when he was on his knees at my feet painting my toenails with glitter. But it was when we were both laughing at him trying to answer personal questions with a ball gag in his mouth, dribbling all over himself, that I felt the turning of my heart. As the laughter settled but the giddiness was still in us, I unleashed him from his gag and took his hand underneath my skirt. I taught him how to pleasure me with a squirting orgasm. When I collapsed on the bed from the intensity, fighting the delirium, he gently caressed my body until I recovered, just like a content puppy waiting fervently for his Mistress to awaken. Knowing he was there with me, taking care of me when I was weakened from orgasm, strengthened my fall for him. We had another day ahead of us, another day to fall deeper. But, it came time for us to say goodbye, I was seeing him off at the airport, and no matter my feelings, it was a goodbye I was meaning forever. Our lives were moving in different directions and even though we wanted each other, needed each other, the truth was, it wasn’t our time.
A rather young boy…
…caught my attention when I was visiting London. He was cocky and unashamed of his adonis-type body. Such are easy for quick liaisons because they go in with the same intensions as me–just to have fun. The only thing… he was vanilla, looking for his first kinky experience–very unusual for me to take on. We finally met under London bridge station. The boy was gorgeous, and his smile when he first saw me melted my better judgement. He was a little surprised at how young I looked. I would have thought it was a compliment if he wasn’t so genuine. (I’m 21 years his senior.) During our travel, I tried to prepare him for what was coming–I was taking him to his first BDSM club. Patrons of the club didn’t hold back – the night was happening. My boy even got down on a sofa next to a another to be tandem caned by me. I will never forget his virginal white jocks on display in the middle of the Red Room….haha! He was so good, taking everything in with grace and a coy smile. I was charmed. It was late and as I was getting dressed out of my BDSM gear in the corner of the bar, the boy was falling asleep on the couch. He was tuckered–so cute. I had half a mind to send him home to his mamma… but I didn’t. A Coke and a Mars bar livened him up again. At my hotel he tried to take the lead until I tied him down. He was up for everything. Somewhere in between the sheets we fell into place. Our strangeness vanished and we became known to each other. I’m not going to go into details–some things are just sacred–but let’s just say, in a way, I submitted to him. I allowed him to sleep over, which I rarely do, but I just didn’t want to say goodbye. As I lay in his arms, he whispered in my ear this was one of the best nights of his life. I must admit, it was the perfect night. I didn’t expect to connect with someone like this… in such a way. We only had two hours sleep before I had to get us up – I had another sub coming over for an innocent foot worship session and I needed to get ready. As we stood at the door, which seemed like forever, we couldn’t say goodbye… There was just so many things to say but no time to say them, so we said nothing. If only I told him how I felt… If only I had time to meet up with him again later that day… If only… But, I let it go. He kissed me on the lips and walked out. I stood by the door for too long thinking of all the things I should have said to stop him from leaving, or to at least let him know that… it was one of the best nights of my life too.
And there are others…
Is the value of seeing a shooting star or a solar eclipse any less fantastic or rewarding because they happen in a moment? Love is only fleeting when it ends too soon, but while it exists it is just as wonderful as a love that lasts. Fleeting love and all its possibilities!
So no, I don’t just fuck, I have relationships that last a pocket of time. Yes, they are fleeting by design–some are just plain kinky fun, others are meaningful, but never are they worthless. My heart often gets caught up in someone and sometimes I fall in love. I will not undervalue those experiences or feelings, or be afraid to have them, because the love is evanescent.
We are human, there is no such thing as forever.