433, 432, 431
Sex is a lonely planet.
It seems that in world we live in, it seems to be much talked about, talked at, than maybe just simply and quietly understood.
And perhaps a dimension that ought to be quietly and silently understood gets lost in that vortex of very strong, sure voices.
There is one kind of shame and accountability expected from people who, say, are sexually active. Happily so. Depending on who's observing, you may get labelled a certain way.
There's another kind of shame and accountability expected from people who are not sexually active. Not because they were so unappealing as to not have choices. Not because there was some memory of deep, scarring abuse. Or maybe there was. But maybe because...and there's no reason after that.
This piece, here, is then an ambiguous articulation of why perhaps this might be the case.
Maybe because the last time such people may have had sex with the one they loved. When there may have been, yes, the biological hunger, but also a wise invincibility of being together with someone who could never wrong you. When, even though, you didn't ask for it, you were given the gift of their vulnerability, their laughter, their sweetness, their...love. Their hearts filled with it, their fingertips smudged with it, their hair zinging with it.
And sure, one could meet others who will offer different things. And over and over, one may be told that this is the best you can get for now. It's good. It's emancipation. And one may be confused and one may believe and one may even go forward. But then, one will stop. Because one may not see it - the little kindness where the other person may notice that you're cold and cover you up even as you're being intimate. When a little song may be hummed or a verse may be recited...simply to make you smile in the dark. When your tears will be wiped away.
And when one doesn't see that, one steps aside. Making love only to the one you love - may seem like a word in a lost language. And many other words may come close. But if you've spoken that word before, you know that those don't come close.
Then one waits and makes peace with the memory and remains very, very grateful for that.
And even if it doesn't come your way again, it's fine. No shame in that.
It seems that in world we live in, it seems to be much talked about, talked at, than maybe just simply and quietly understood.
And perhaps a dimension that ought to be quietly and silently understood gets lost in that vortex of very strong, sure voices.
There is one kind of shame and accountability expected from people who, say, are sexually active. Happily so. Depending on who's observing, you may get labelled a certain way.
There's another kind of shame and accountability expected from people who are not sexually active. Not because they were so unappealing as to not have choices. Not because there was some memory of deep, scarring abuse. Or maybe there was. But maybe because...and there's no reason after that.
This piece, here, is then an ambiguous articulation of why perhaps this might be the case.
Maybe because the last time such people may have had sex with the one they loved. When there may have been, yes, the biological hunger, but also a wise invincibility of being together with someone who could never wrong you. When, even though, you didn't ask for it, you were given the gift of their vulnerability, their laughter, their sweetness, their...love. Their hearts filled with it, their fingertips smudged with it, their hair zinging with it.
And sure, one could meet others who will offer different things. And over and over, one may be told that this is the best you can get for now. It's good. It's emancipation. And one may be confused and one may believe and one may even go forward. But then, one will stop. Because one may not see it - the little kindness where the other person may notice that you're cold and cover you up even as you're being intimate. When a little song may be hummed or a verse may be recited...simply to make you smile in the dark. When your tears will be wiped away.
And when one doesn't see that, one steps aside. Making love only to the one you love - may seem like a word in a lost language. And many other words may come close. But if you've spoken that word before, you know that those don't come close.
Then one waits and makes peace with the memory and remains very, very grateful for that.
And even if it doesn't come your way again, it's fine. No shame in that.
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