Mergers & Acquisitions: The High Price

As I’m pounding out miles on the treadmill at 5:45 am, I often reminisce about how delicious sex is when it’s the kind I want. Yet, when I compare the scrumptious fucks to the many worthless fucks I’ve had, my strides get longer, harder, and meaner. As I clench my teeth, visions of wet bodies snapping on and off of each other carry my legs through the air. And, I ask myslef, is the sex I actually want to have an unattainable dream, or is it just different than before?

Years ago, Mr. Meathead and I would spend hours fucking in dirty post-gym clothes. We’d work ourselves into a frenzy, grab at each other with malice, and anger fuck into complete oblivion. Typical and acceptable expressions of affection between us included throwing each other into walls and slamming an open throat down on a perched cock or protruding pussy. Delicate, we most certainly were not, and, at the time, our stamina-filled sessions were satisfying.

Sex, like working out or playing sports, can be experienced as a strictly physical act. But, a simple physical act isn’t always good enough. Now, I cherish a good old fashion anger fuck as much as the next girl. But, let’s not neglect the fact, sometimes we need the stable presence of a kindred spirit- toes touching, naked bodies trembling next to each other, hearts pounding out of our chest- to create some orgasmic surrender with. Most people, unfortunately, only associate soul merging sex with a monogamous relationship. After years of cultivating a loving supportive partnership, one is finally ready for true intimacy. Or, in the absence of a secure foundation, strings are attached. When and if the soul merging occurs, the thought of losing the other after it is too overwhelming, so people get clingy. At this point, most of us, in some shape or form, “Get Owned.”

Ownership, then, is the struggle to possess the “other” when our pussy is not stuffed with their cock, or their cock is not nestled in our pussy. (Lesbian & Gay folk- stick with me.) For the ladies, after your guy cums, his cock still inside of you, have you ever wished it could stay forever? Same goes for the guys, have you ever wanted to find a long-term parking spot between her legs and rest? I’ve had the urge. In fact, I’ve told ex-lovers, “Don’t move, I want you to stay here forever”, while I basked in the glow of the merge.

Ownership, unfortunately, exacts a high price on soul expanding orgasmic fun, which is what stops a lot of us from pulling out the little black book on those lonely nights. (Hello Sleepless in Seattle!) Plus, to complicate matters further, soul mergers don’t happen on a superficial level.

I can call Bob over to stick it in, which, in the business world, is tantamount to an acquisition. He acquires my pussy, but afterwards my pussy, as a separate entity, is discarded and forgotten. A merger, in contrast, has a completely different energy attached to it. In the event of a merger, two separate entities join forces to experience each other deeply and form a more versatile stronger entity.

Personally, I find myself teetering back and forth between acquiring and merging. Simple ho-hum fucks are lovely when we’re not in the mood to think or feel- when we're in a “doing” mode. Mergers, on the other hand, introduce the world of art, creativity, and psychic connections into our sexual landscape. And, even though it pains me to admit it, there are times when I crave a soul connection. Today I can say (although tomorrow it could change!) with sincerity, I would welcome it.

I feel uneasy admitting it- like I am implying I desire a relationship. This, however, is not the case, at least not in a traditional sense. I want a soul-on-soul sex merger without any claims of ownership or control. I want the same person who fucks me lovingly to also watch strangers fuck me brutally. And, I want to move beyond the trite definitions of love we’ve all been forced to swallow into a more satisfying experience for all.

Let’s work on manifesting the dream this week. The sex we really want is just around the corner.

Yours truly, Sally.

Equality & Male Desire

Pigs and Science
by Mike Dubisch

Some men stand at the edge, look out over the horizon,
silently wish for more, but never go for it. By the
time they get to be adults the spirit of adventure and
curiosity from their youth has been eroded. These men
have repressed and trapped themselves in a life that’s
void of desire- a hole which could possibly take at
least two more lifetimes to work their way out of.

As a woman who’s stood at the end of the edge and
jumped, I find myself in the role of an initiator.
Men come to me because they need the animal within
them released. And, they need to replace shame and
guilt with a new model of acceptance.

In my richest fantasy, my lover and I would be like
sculptors, carving each other out of the stone,
working tirelessly and losing ourselves in the detail.
Standing naked together in the light, we’d examine our
bodies and take pleasure in each and every curve.

My Scorpio, however, got very uncomfortable when I
caressed his body the other night in this manner. When
my mouth lingered at his hips and I cupped his ass in
my hands, he sensed he was being seduced by his equal.
He knows it, and I know it. I touched him, not with
anger in hyper masculine form or in the softness of
the eternal feminine, but with the delicacy of an
equal, one human to another, appreciating and honoring
his body.

Although most would be hard pressed to admit it, men
need this healing touch, badly. To date, many men
have fallen down in front of the Temple of Sally to
touch my body like I was a Goddess- and it feels
fucking amazing. Why wouldn’t men need this too?

Men fear surrendering their masculinity. And, in
truth, I probably haven’t been completely honest about
my intentions either. I told bashful Leo my favorite
sound was his knees hitting the ground. Statements
like these make Sally sound like a real ball crusher
instead of a ball sucker. There is also an element of
trust involved, which, I assume will be a difficult
bridge for my Scorpio and I to cross. His jealously
is activated each time I even mention another man or
woman, so, emptying out the contents of his psyche in
front me really isn’t an option...yet.

Unfortunately, I’m not sure I have what it takes
to nurture the type of relationship his surrender
would demand. Scorpio boy and I, if given
enough time, trust, and confidence in one another
could definitely move mountains with our lust, but as
it stands now, there is no foundation. The only
comfortable energy between us is quick, hard, and
completely physical. No talking, no touching, only
fucking. Tell me, when will there be drinking?

~Sally S.

Slut Guilt

Guilt: Anthony Guerra

“I don't know why
you want to follow me tonight
when the rest of the world
with whom I've crossed and I've quarreled
let's me down so
for a thousand reasons that I know
to share forever the unrest
with all the demons I possess
beneath the silver moon
maybe you were right
but baby I was lonely
I don't want to fight
I'm tired of being sorry” :: Tired of Being Sorry: Ringside

Sally has fucked, left, and destroyed quite a few people in her short life on this planet, which has led to various accusations like:

“You have no heart.”
“You’re dead inside”
“You’re a scandalous whore.”
“You ripped my pretty red heart in two.” (tribute to Sylvia Plath)

and the old stand by:

“You’re a player.”

What these malcontents don’t realize is during my younger years, I was a nice girl, a people pleaser, in fact. Often times, I would lose interest in relationship long before I broke it off. Even when relationship no longer honored self-discovery and growth, I continued on with the person at my expense. Hell, I spent two and half years with one ex-girlfriend when it should’ve been a one-night stand. But, the girl would flip out, threaten suicide, and stalk me to the ends of the earth until I relented. In order to protect her feelings I soldiered on, half-heartedly, to appease her. This relationship is only one example of how I traded the truth for a lie to protect someone’s feelings. I had many more relationships over the years that followed this pattern.

A part of me felt an obligation to help my partners maintain their emotional balance. Oh, you’re unhappy? Here, let me help. So, you hate yourself and feel weak and misunderstood? Come here, then, my little bird with broken wing. Let me stitch you up and put you back together.

The problem is, once you’ve helped someone in this capacity (either sexually or psychologically) the subject (i.e partner) yearns for fusion and wholeness with their guide again and again. In many cases, the subject becomes addicted to, what they perceive to be, their “savior’s” attention or presence in their life. The subject, then, feeds of this strength while taking what they need for themselves. When the “savior” finally attempts to gracefully bow out of their role or let’s the projection expire, the subject is, naturally, enraged. They want more. We don’t especially like it when our faith or image of someone is destroyed. But as Tori Amos sings, “I was never the vision of what you wanted me to be.”

Readers, I realize this scenario makes Sally sound like a real bitch. Who does this chick think she is? God? a Savior? a freakin’ saint?

My father had a severe Jesus complex, so I am particularly sensitive to being viewed as anybody’s savior. It disgusts me. However, Dad was a charismatic preacher, people wanted to believe him. They needed to believe him. When he spoke his “followers” listened in awe, the man was damn inspiring. Growing up hearing him and seeing him certainly affected me and the way my communication with others is received. Further, since ancestral imprints run deep through our family heritage, daughters and sons carry the strengths and weakness of those who have gone before them. In other words, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.

It’s also important to realize human beings are hard wired to seek out meaning in their encounters with others and are prone to projections. For every savior out there, you’ll find someone in need of saving and vice versa. Saviors need their followers as much as their followers need their saviors. This is, essentially, a karmic situation and a sticky one at that.

I wish those who’ve felt slighted by Sally could understand the deeper impact of their perceived abandonment. They were learning something beautiful, and I was too. Nothing is ever lost. People get what they need from one another, even if it hurts. Important lessons do come through our pain and disappointment. And those who have crossed paths with Ms. Sunshine have learned about self-reliance. I can pick you up and dust you off, but in the end, each person must develop their own inner resources, their temple of self, or strong core.

So, here ends Sally’s Slut Guilt.

When we start to understand ourselves (i.e. “birthing” ourselves) we recognize radical honesty is the only way to go. This blog is dedicated to the pursuit of radical honesty, and as we all know, revolution is never a dinner party. It’s tough.

Telling a lover,

“Hey, I’m sorry; I just don’t do relationships right now. “
“I’m sorry, I can’t see you anymore.”
“I’m falling in love with you”
“I’ve fallen out of love with you”
“I want to fuck your best friend”
or “I’d like to fuck you again.”

all requires balls (or ovaries!) of steel. It may be embarrassing, the other person may feel like shit, or you may end up losing them, but we must commit ourselves to the highest order in life...truth.

So be it.

Love you all immensely, Sally.

DIVINE SEX: SUCKING THE NECTAR DRY

The Orgy: Boris Vallejo, 1980

"My vulva, the horn,
The Boat of Heaven,
Is full of eagerness like the young moon.
My untilled land lies fallow.
As for me, Inanna,
Who will plow my vulva?
Who will plow my high field?
Who will plow my wet ground?"

:Inanna to Dumuzi as repeated during Hieros Gamos

SEX AS RELIGION

Orgies have always fascinated me. The reckless abandon with which people give themselves away to others without a trace of regret- the claw-like nails dragging over tense muscular backs, and the loud slapping noises…bodies hitting one another with intense force, sweat running in and out the folds of skin, and the moaning crescendo coming from the mixture of male/female participants echoing down a long hallway- all suit my fancy.

During the Hellenistic period, those naughty Greeks sure knew how to party. Prostitutes were revered and “wife swapping” was common place. Hedonism was sacred in nature and orgies were a religious rite- rather than the morally depraved event they’ve become today. For example, during the sacred sex ritual, Hieros Gamos, a man (often a ruler or king) offered himself up to a High Priestess to join in divine union with her. The union was both for practical and esoteric purposes. The pairing was said to bless the land and people with abundant fertility and was typically enacted during the spring. In a spiritual sense, the ritual induced both participants, especially the male, to reach a higher level of awareness and experience a deeply satisfying religious experience.

All praise the holy vulva!

Auguste (Maurice François Giuslain) Léveque (1864-1921)

ORGIES, I WANT ONE... OR TWO

I have, in a half-joking manner, invited groups of hot singles over for an “orgy on my cement floor” many o’ nights after last call. Maybe it’s the granite walls or the hard floors in my loft apartment, but my offer has never been accepted. What does it take to conjure up a group for some orgiastic fun around here?

Free cookies and punch?

A few weeks ago, I had the pleasure of attending an all-girls getaway at a lake cabin. All in all, there were seven people in our group- a perfectly off-balance number to incite some sexual rebellion. My evil plan was craftily constructed to include a drunken Bacchanalian orgy of sorts. Booze, Seclusion, Sex and Song- just the right ingredients. However, I fucked it up, readers. First, as Master of Ceremonies, I should’ve resisted the first ten or so shots of Hot Damn I was offered. Then, in error, I zeroed in my affections on one particular lady, which divided the group. Shortly after, all the couples were tightly locked into their own conversations in their respective relationships. I had to abandon my mission and channel all my seductive energy in one direction.

Bummer.

Eventually, lake cabin girl and I stumbled into an adjacent bedroom. With her on top and me on the bottom I started removing clothes, throwing them in the air and giggling loudly. At some point, another drunk girl jumped on the bed with us. She had just removed lake cabin girl’s shirt and was rubbing my pussy when her girlfriend opened the door.

Busted.

The Girlfriend yelled her name and she quickly climbed off the bed and ran out the door after her to do some damage control. Although, I was excited to fuck lake cabin girl, as soon as our third partner in crime left, my pussy all but dried up. Wouldn’t it have been great if Girlfriend would’ve stripped down and jumped in bed with us? One can always dare to dream.

However, I do realize non-stop frolicking through The Garden- touching, touching, touching -everything in sight can be tiresome, which is why periods of rest or abstinence are necessary. Even those crazy Greeks knew when to give their chapped lips, engorged pussies, and sore dicks a break.

Happy Friday~Sally S.

“Inanna, your breast is your field.
Your broad field pours out plants.
Your broad field pours out grain.
Water flows from on high for your servant.
Bread flows from on high for your servant.
Pour it out for me, Inanna.
I will drink all you offer."

:Dumuzi to Inanna as repeated during Hieros Gamos

Masturbation, Self Love, and Relationships

Nu Allonge by Jean Berque

There’s no limit to my love.

Last week, The Green Man elevated our discussion about jealousy to another level when he revealed his feelings about compersion (compassion for another’s pleasure).

Compersion is the opposite of jealousy, or the soothing balm one can apply to confront and heal jealousy. The root of a compersive relationship with another is self love. Self love is a term that is thrown around in psychiatric communities and within “new age” movements and spiritual practices. Yet, when we attempt to move beyond the clichéd expressions, we are at a loss

We've all heard saying, "You cannot love anyone else until you love yourself." And even if we intellectually agree with it, we see people (and maybe ourselves!) who don't have a healthy concept of self love moving from one relationship to another in serial monogamy type secession. Many of these people are so wounded and vulnerable; they throw the entirety of their broken selves into relationships, which, in the end, becomes a collision of dysfunction. And so it is, without self love we constantly submerge ourselves in one unhealthy fixation after another.

An Infantile State of Dependency

Yesterday, I babysat my niece while my sister was out. And since she was a little fussy before mom left, we decided to do everything in our power to calm her down. We fed her, changed her diaper, gave her a small dose of children’s Tylenol (she’s teething) and rocked her for awhile. However, when mom left she still cried, wailed, in fact, while I looked at her with a desperate expression and mumbled out loud, “What do you want kid?”

Anybody who has children understands this situation perfectly. The child wants something, they are obviously suffering, but what do they want? Unfortunately, even with parents who are incredibly nurturing and positive, there will be times when the needs of the infant/young child are not met. This, of course, doesn’t account for toxic environments where physical, emotional, spiritual, or sexual abuse is present. Also, there are varying degrees of need. Some children require a lot of tender loving care and some require less. We’ve all heard stories about babies who are “good sleepers” while other are “excessively fussy” or colicky.

Then, look at the flip side. Some parents are comfortable showering their children with love and affection while other parents may be cold and remote, much to the child’s dismay. The child’s needs may not match what the parent(s) are able to give/receive and vice versa. These mismatched patterns of relating lay the foundation for dysfunctional relationships later in life.

The Masses of Disillusioned Lovers

We remember, on a physical and soul level, our experiences as infants, both inside and outside of the womb. For some, the umbilical cord is tied tightly for their entire lives. They are mother-bound, unable to cut and heal the ties from their past, so they turn to romantic interests/partners to fill the gapping hole. “The gapping hole” in adult relationships sits wide open as we submerge and isolate ourselves desperately trying to fill it up (heal it up). We ask our partners anxiously, “What do you want?” and hope we can be everything they ever needed. Eventually, the bottom falls out. We discover our partners aren’t the evolved/loving/nurturing models of perfection we thought they were.

So, where does self love flourish and compersion begin after the disillusionment sets in? Is it in these needy black holes of emotional relating? Or, does it come from within ourselves, our connection to the divine? I remember awhile ago taking a survey and one of the questions’s asked, “Are your parents still together?” And my brain immediately fired back, “I am my parents.” This is the space we must occupy. We cannot expect as adults that lovers, friends, or family be “quasi-parents” by filling each passing need, sexually or otherwise. First, we must be a self-contained loving entity within our own right.

In other words, “I love myself, and want you to know it.”

Sexually, self love cannot be discussed without paying proper respect to masturbation. Masturbation, we are told, is now healthy. However, anybody who grew up in the Catholic Church may have been shamed into believing differently. I know a guy, who, at the age of thirty still experiences considerable agony and guilt after pleasuring himself and he isn’t even Catholic!

Personally, I’ve always been a chronic offender. I have many early memories (5-6 years old) of the extra long baths I would take with my legs propped up against the bath tub’s edge with my clit angled right under the water stream. Another friend explained how she got off on her “blankie” using the buttons on it as friction to rub one off around the same age. If we look far enough back into our histories, we can probably all find some evidence of these early experiences. One would assume, then, by the time we reach adulthood, we’d be relatively comfortable with masturbation, both on our own time and with partners. However, that may not be the case if we weren’t raised in a supportive environment and felt we had to “hide” it from others.

I remember the first time someone busted me masturbating. I was in 9th grade, and by then, I was a pro. I even had a little massager, which I used religiously, until the thing broke- probably from over use. Anyway, on this rare occasion, the small apartment I shared with my mom and sisters was empty after I returned home from school. It was warmer than average for April, so my sister had propped the window open, even though the blinds were drawn shut. I pulled off my pants quickly and grabbed my vibrating toy.

Now, my toy was not that loud, but evidently the fifteen year old neighbor boy walking by my window heard it. Oblivious, I continued to pleasure myself. Ten minutes later, I was on the way to my second orgasm when I heard the sound of hushed laughter and tapping outside my window. I threw my toy under my bed, put my pants back on, and ran outside to survey the damage.

It was bad.

A group of three teenage boys stood next to window pointing and laughing at me. The neighbor boy, upon hearing the dull buzz emanating from window, called over a few friends to witness the spectacle. Readers, I was horrified. Not only did I have to see these boys in the hallway of my apartment building regularly, but at school as well! They showed no mercy, and promptly spread the word to every available ear.

Today, I still sporadically see Mr. Peeping Tom and his cohorts around town, and each time I have the urge to disappear or die, which just goes to show how powerful and persistent these attitudes are.

Too often in our relationships self love takes a back seat to humiliation, shame, and abuse. Since self love is the cornerstone of compersion and non-jealous attachment, we need actively seek partners for whom self love is a priority. If mutual self-loathing and desperation are the only reason we find one another and stay together, I’d say we need a better map. And soon.

Stay tuned in for a rousing discussion about mutual masturbation in the near future.

Eroticism & Jealousy -A Radical Perspective, Part III

Readers, I have a special treat for you. The Green Man has decided to bestow some of his blessed wisdom upon us as our jealousy discussion continues. I asked The Green Man to shed some positive light on the subject, since I’ve got the negative end covered. Mr. Green, who is no stranger to suffering, offers a new paradigm to contain our jealous feelings while practicing a loving philosophy called compersion.
Listen and Learn. ~Sally S.


The idea of my lover fucking someone else turns me on. It's a sure-fire way to get my attention and get me off, hot and heavy, on a soul level. Knowing your lover, or former lover, is fucking someone else, perhaps right at that moment, is to indulge in a state of surrender. Surrender to loss is one of the deepest emotions humans face. It is during these moments that I have learned to eroticize jealousy.

It was a discovery I made in the process of exploring sexuality with different lovers, often in polyamorous situations, that is, situations where more than two lovers were involved. There were situations where I was the party causing the jealousy in my partner; other times, I was under the spotlight, showing the face of my feelings, my hunger, my ripping loss not only of another being sexually unavailable, but craving her knowing she was craving someone else. There were some difficult times.

Yet, if art has in some way romanticized agony, one of its sweetest forms is accepting the penetration of my lover by a different person.

I say it was a discovery; one that was made when my female lover became lovers with a mutual friend of ours. I spent many hours witnessing what only women can give to one another. The agony was I could not be them, and I could not feel their journey from the inside. But I could see, and feel, and smell, and I could also cum in front of them solo, which is an incredible release. At other times, I would fuck one, or the other, as her partner watched. This is taking jealousy and slipping into it like a natural hot spring bath. What made the water even hotter was that they were falling in love. It was not merely about sex. I was confronted by their passionate adoration of one another, expressed as an erotic friendship.

In place of jealousy, it was in this situation with two women that I learned compersion directly. Compersion is when you get off on another person's pleasure and love in a deep way. It is part learned skill and part natural gift. It’s what I felt when their being together was SO beautiful, no matter how jealous I may have felt, the erotic satisfaction of my longing made the beauty even deeper.

Now, maybe I make it sound easy. In a sense it is, but that doesn't mean it's not challenging to learn. Jealousy is primal and directing it creatively is a little like riding a dragon.

A lot of the story is how we handle the jealousy of others: can we stand it, for instance? If you live on this planet and have any fun, people are going to be jealous around you. Thus, you have to understand how to handle jealous people. The method is "carefully," and personally, I choose to avoid people for whom jealousy is an unconscious or seriously unresolved issue. There are two kinds of jealous people: those who use the word and those who don't. If someone is using the word, they are holding the key to freedom, which is awareness.

Last night was my final night with my lover before she went to visit another lover, whom she has only seen three times before. We did not so much have sex as a sex ritual. I masturbated in front of her, while we talked about how they were going to fuck, how she wanted him, and how I encouraged her to let go with him. I penetrated myself as we talked openly about how he would penetrate her. She studied me curiously and compassionately. And when I went deep into my pleasure, she was a steady witness. I finally ejaculated into her cupped hands, kneeling up and seeing myself in a large mirror. She saw my face as I was looking. I knew from this she was starting to feel the first hint of compersion for me.

As I write now, they are together. I feel good; I am curious, I miss her and it's also very nice to be alone. She and I have played the fantasy scenario of her with him a number of times, and reached some beautiful places.

This morning when I took her to the bus, we parted in joyous love with a hint of sadness. I knew how horny she was for him. I whispered in her ear, from my heart, "Have fun." Secretly, we both knew she could fall in love with him.

Yours in sweet agony,
The Green Man

Vengeance & Rage- Jealousy Un-masked- Part II

:Woman Scorned, by Maram McWilliams:

“The path of the righteous man is beset on all sides by the iniquities of the selfish and the tyranny of evil men. Blessed is he, who in the name of charity and good will, shepherds the weak through the valley of darkness, for he is truly his brother's keeper and the finder of lost children. And I will strike down upon thee with great vengeance and furious anger those who would attempt to poison and destroy my brothers. And you will know my name is the Lord when I lay my vengeance upon thee. “-Samuel Jackson, as Jules, heard in the film "Pulp Fiction"

Samuel Jackson was already one my favorite actors when this speech solidified my Sam-worship. Jackson’s character, a hit man with a spiritual side, would deliver the monologue above in a chilling executioner-like manner before he pumped his captive full of lead.

His monologue is actually based on Ezekiel 25:17, a Bible verse stating, “And I will execute great vengeance upon them with furious rebukes; and they shall know that I am the Lord, when I shall lay my vengeance upon them.”

Similar, no?

And if that's not enough, other examples can be found throughout the Bible where acts of retribution and “eye for an eye” theories flourished. “God” gets ticked off when we worship other deities, and He hates it when we disobey orders. In fact, during the entire length of the Old Testament God is smiting, destroying, and pillaging because he’s one jealous, angry, bitter old dude.

The problem with this belief system is the lust for revenge is endless. You smite me, and I smite you right back, and so the cycle goes. Until, that is, someone finally breaks the circle with forgiveness. Unfortunately, human beings bear the genetic imprint- a retributive stamp of pain- accumulated from ancestors, heritage, and if you want to go there…past lives too.

These primal feelings (cell memories) remain lodged in our subconscious and affect our relationships. Thus, when faced with a partner’s infidelity (or imagined infidelity) instinct kicks in. Once jealousy is aroused the tendency is to revert to our primal nature when threatened. Rational thought processes are discarded and the animal is released. Extreme examples of this type of behavior would include crimes of passion and half the bar fights I’ve seen over the course of my life.

Now, readers, let me just say, I’m a nice girl. However, some of the things I’ve done to my lovers in the past in the name of revenge have been really mean, if not outright horrible. Lovers were surprised by my malice because I seemed, on the surface, laid-back and uncomplicated. I told lovers, “I’m the most non-jealous person in the world!”, but was thinking, “I don’t care if you flirt with her, I’ll hook up with 10 guys to your one girl, Ha!” It didn’t matter if I actually did it (which yes, sometimes I did!) but the threat was there. Clearly, I wanted to have my partner by the balls. Do This or else. Do This or I will (insert consequence). Obviously, I am a jealous person, but was masking my feelings with revenge/control/manipulation tactics instead of admitting it. As one can imagine, this attitude has caused a lot of unnecessary pain in my relationships with others and internally as well.

For instance, my ex-girlfriend is a flirt AND she’s incredibly cute. I’d cringe each time a pretty girl would even walk in her direction. However, on one particular night I was especially worried. A tall dark-haired, tan, exotic-looking sexy grrl had been eye-fucking her for at least an hour when she finally walked over and struck up a conversation. I stomped off in the other direction, looking for some poor unsuspecting girl to flirt with while she talked. Eventually, sexy tan grrl and my girlfriend parted ways, and I was relieved, but still pissed.

I grabbed a twenty dollar bill out of my wallet, and made my way across the room toward tall tan girl. I took the $20 bill, marched up to the table she was sitting at with her friends and said, “Do you see that girl over there (pointing to my lover)? That’s my girlfriend. But, I’m soooooo tired of her, I’ll give you twenty bucks if you’ll take her home.” I threw the bill down on the table and walked out of the club with my pride in tow.

Evidently, insults of that caliber are enough to kill a relationship.

In hindsight, my behavior was clearly motivated by jealousy. This, strangely, coming from the girl who said she didn’t have a jealous bone in her body. However, that was then and this is now. It’s never too late to bring our negative behavioral patterns into our field of awareness. It’s never too late to learn the art of self love, healing, and forgiveness. And, it’s never too late to try again.

Stay tuned for Part III, when a guest blogger makes his mysterious presence known to weigh in on the jealousy factor.

Ownership, Control, and Possession- Part I

“I cannot make the changes smoothly, from one relationship to another. Some parts of me tear off like a fragment, fly here and there. I lose vital parts of myself, some part of me stays in that hotel room, a part of me is walking away from this place of haven, a part of me following another as he walks down the street alone, or perhaps not alone: someone may take my place at his side while I am here, that will be my punishment, and someone will take my place here when I leave.”
- A Spy in the House of Love, Anais Nin

Subversion in the House of Love

When I was in college, my boyfriend worked the night shift.

There were nights when I counted the broken paint chips on some stranger’s wall long after the passion waned, my bored eyes darted back and forth between the indentations while he slept, satisfied, next to me. And then, the next morning, I’d fly off of his couch in a frenzy, my back drenched from the summer heat and the smoky stale humid air. I longed to reach my destination so I could start the detoxification process. The fitful restless sleep the night before did nothing to squelch my mounting guilt.

First, I would remove my clothes, carefully depositing them in the hamper, wrapping the soiled fabric in clothes from the bottom of the pile. His cheap cologne saturated it and the new scent would be easily discernable to a suspicious nose. Next, I’d wash myself, soaking in a lavender sea salt bath. Depending on where he left his seed the night before, I thoroughly scrubbed each area of my body clean with a wash cloth. Standing naked in front of a full length mirror, I inspected my neck, arms, breasts, back, and ass for any dubious markings and then applied a generous portion of lotion to all the sensitive parts. And last, but not least, the removal of the spunk-filled taste from my mouth assisted by rigorous brushing, flossing, and rinsing.

“I fake it so real, I am beyond fake.” *

All of my “preparations” for his arrival did nothing to erase the guilt from the night before, I was a cheater, and my careful physical cleansing could not change it. In fact, it actually increased my anxiety at the thought of being “discovered”. What was I hiding from? Why was I lying? Did the relationship mean that little to me? And if not, why was I deliberately deceiving him?

I know my boyfriend was under the impression he was in a monogamous relationship. And, I, for the first time in my life, was entertaining thoughts of forever. Yet, internally, I was a fragmented woman, living a double, if not quadruple life. But still, I felt the pressure to be “the woman he wanted me to be” - monogamous, possessed, and contained. I was his woman. The container was air tight and even though it was safe, I was suffocating because I wasn’t able to truly be myself.

“The Fox Confessor Brings the Flood” **

My ‘true self’ was an adventurous, young twenty-something who needed and craved sexual freedom. And even though I was desperate to protect the relationship and my investment in the relationship at any cost, I had a rebellious, independent, willful streak, which refused to be tamed. I saw other women my age gradually lose themselves in relationships that did not honor, support, or nourish them on a soul level. Tremendous effort and energy were infused into these toxic pairings at the expense of their personhood. Dreams were abandoned or put on hold “indefinitely” each day until there was only a shell remaining. Individuality discarded, these women embodied the exact opposite of what I wanted.

“You’re such an inspiration for the way I would never ever choose to be.” ***

At the time, I didn’t understand why or how I might live differently, but I knew then traditional monogamy was not for me. However, I was at a loss as to how I might explain these startling revelations to my sweet, intelligent, amazing, sexy boyfriend without losing him. Certainly, at the first hint of infidelity he would be out the door sooner than I could get a word out.

“I want to be the girl with the most cake.” *

For two years, I continued to flirt with disaster and sabotage the relationship with my subversive behavior. Eventually, it was an intense relationship with another woman which ultimately killed it. Losing him, even though I’d been fucking around for quite sometime, left me no less devastated than if I had been faithful the entire time. Because what I really desired was his acceptance and absolution. If I could’ve admitted each transgression to him, while he held me and loved me anyway, it would’ve been bliss.

“I begged the moon and the stars above for sacred love.” ****

We can never “own” anyone, regardless of how hard we push ourselves on them. Each person is like a vast universe unto themselves and trying to possess another is a futile attempt to play God. Recognizing there will be parts of our partners we never will have access to, or be able to touch is key. And, hell, even if you could own, control and posses all aspects of your lover, would you want to? Observing and uncovering the mystery of another human being is half the fun.

Jealousy strips us of the opportunity to learn from one another. It clouds our vision, confuses, and yes, it fucking burns. Owning and controlling another is not love and attachment is not love. Allowing our partner the freedom to be and to become is the highest order and the most honest way to love someone.

However, that doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking burn.

Sally Sunshine may look pretty evolved from where she’s standing right now…but just wait…. Stay tuned for Part II, when I examine my own jealous attempts to control others.

Let the burning commence.

*Lyrics: Doll Parts, Hole

**Lyrics: The Fox Confessor Brings the Flood, Neko Case

***Lyrics: Judith, A Perfect Circle

**** Lyrics: Sacred Love, Sting