It was fun and nice. I’m suppose to go again next friday to see if I can meet up with one of them again. He had a very nice chiselled featured face. nicely built upper body. I like a triangle look on a guy. It was so unexpected when I saw he was exciting the same time I was. Maybe I”ll see him again.

Guy #2, we’ve been going to the same classes. He had his hand on my back, massaging nice muscles. It was nice, except I’m not really attracted to him outside the bar…

It’s half a blog, maybe i’ll feel compelled to write again in the morning but otherwise, night!

Suffice it to say, there was a big blow out with my family about my partner a long time ago. We were dating for three years and it was one of the most painful three years of my life. He’s a lovely guy, but that wasn’t enough for them. I finally made a decision for my happiness and stopped seeing him.

I’m conflicted because when my brother gets to celebrate his love when I wasn’t allowed to.

It’s like a stab in the heart each and every single time.

He gets support for his celebration. STAB. The fact that he’s in love often comes up in casual family conversation. STAB. They’re welcoming. STAB. They pick her up from the airport. STAB STAB.

Reasons why my family didn’t like my partner: He didn’t have a [proper] education. He wasn’t the right race. I think they are all excuses, they never saw the great part of him. They never saw his intelligence, his kindness or his love. It didn’t matter that he had started his own business, supportive of his family through hard times and wanted to take care of me.

My brother is much more straight edge. He finds the appropriate profession, he finds the appropriate partner. He colours within the lines. It means he never encounters turbulence. I’m beginning to resent his happiness and it’s the worst thing a sister can do. I resent he doesn’t challenge the authority, I resent he accepts the status quo and doesn’t question it. So I just don’t do anything at all. I stay silent. I eat the anger and it’s not a healthy diet.

I just don’t know what I’m looking for to have a resolution.

1) I appreciate my time here in bloomsbury, where I LOVE MY FUCKING CLASSES! I can’t tell you how much I love my classes. Today’s lecture on economics, blew my mind away. I’ve been wanting to know this stuff for years! And now I know! I can google the topics now if I want to learn more! I’m so happy to be in this program. I’m so happy to be in this school!

2) I appreciate my friends who are supportive. They are my cheering crowd and they have always believed in me.

3) I appreciate being financially able. This can be taken in two directions. 1) I am financially able in the sense that I can afford the things I want. 2) I am financially able in the sense that I know how to spend money wisely. Both my parents worked in some sort of finance industry and they taught me well!

4) I appreciate my strong sense of self-awareness. When I left country x a month ago, people kept telling me good things about me and the one that came up most often was my sense of emotional intelligence. Thanks friends!

5) The bloomsbury health system where I can get contraceptives without an 8 month waiting line! Pap exam today, I expect things will go fine.

In country X, on the surface it seems very conservative. As a woman you’re suppose to wear dresses, preferably covers the knees or longer. Men will carry your bags, open the doors and help you with heavy things. It’s wonderfully polite and also a little bit restrictive. What’s exciting and interesting is that the culture smells of sex when you get to know people. They talk about it openly, they joke about it frequently and make many references to it.

The thing is, I didn’t fel sexual in this culture. I turned down every single offer, I never made any offers. In country X’s culture, not only do they have a very sexualized culture, they also have a huge power hierarchy between ‘white’ people and ‘black’ people. I never knew if they were asking me because of my skin colour or because they really found me interesting. Maybe they were asking me because I have access to opportunities, access to money, or access to more power than they did. I’m sure I had more marriage offers than the number of days I was in that country. So I never let down my walls, which is in some way unfortunate but I couldn’t separate the people who were genuine and the people who were simply asking for an opportunity. I once read Kink in Exile’s post “The power of “no means no”, and it describes exactly how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if my no’s would be respected. So I don’t give an inch. I don’t give any reason for any mis interpretation of my actions. I don’t expect an invitation and I don’t give the expectation of an invitation.

It’s interesting as I cross boundaries and come to bloomsbury that I’m so much more comfortble flirting, putting inuendos in bits of my conversation or even going out. But something happened today. I met someone from country X. I knew even before introducing myself because he had the same mannerisms, same politness and same flirtiness. For some reason, I still don’t feel comfortable accepting an invitation from him, even though he must be a nice man.

I don’t know if it’s because when I saw him, I was transported back to when I had to have my walls up. Or perhaps I’m a little racist and believe anyone who comes from that country behaves the same way regardless of their background. Or perhaps I should just stop giving myself a hard time; realizing his mannerisms are very similar he’s also new to bloomsbury as I am. I hope that my year in country x would have taught me lessons in racism and power hierarchies, but maybe I’m still learning them.

For now, as I write for myself I am going to give myself the excercise of blogging everyday for 50 days. I took the excercise from Eileen. 50 days at least 200 words. It’s incredibly hard for me to publish my thoughts as I’m self-conscious and I’ve been debating how much of a relation I want this blog to my real life.  Hopefully this excercise will help me get out of my shell.

The first area I want to put out there is the idea of female false submissiveness as was posted by Goose and Gander back when they first started the blog in 2005. I am frustrated of two main areas involving false submissiveness in the limited viewpoint of hetero relationships; how women have incorporated these behaviours into their own sexual repertoire and the way men know and understand the behaviour.

Let’s talk about women’s ”unreflective, unquestioning” (as Goose puts it) thought process to their sexuality which often results in many women not knowing what they want in bed. I come from a conservative set of friends (because it was safe) and I know a few of my friends who are doctors who have seen other woman’s vulva’s more than they’ve seen their own. Women need to take charge of their body and their sexuality. My education over my body came about late in life at the age of 21. It wasn’t until I had a better sense of my sexuality was I able to properly communicate to my partner what I wanted sexually or even just outside as a person. I felt I was able to take charge of the sexual message I was sending out to the world.

I’m also tired of men assuming what I want in bed. Unfortunatly, many of the men I’ve dated play by the script, women are submissive therefore I will play director.  I’m tired of men who don’t take responsibility in learning how each woman works and also making it their partner’s fault.

I have to say I’ve been guilty of being passive in my sexual history but No LONGER! As a sexy single gal, my personal goal is to teach my next partner how to please me.

See you tomorrow.

He was lying on the bed, completely clothed as if he walked home from work. “Come here.” he wispered. I was scared.  Was this how we were going to end our relationship? I suddently felt an overwhelming sense of desperateness where I would have done anything to make him forgive me. I wanted forgiveness for leaving the country for my job and I wanted forgiveness for starting a fight.

I climbed into bed with him and snuggled in my spot, under his arm with my hand over his chest. “Come on top of me.” He said.  I was feeling exposed, my underpants revealing my vulnerability compared to his clothed self. My physical vulnerability was like a mirror to my emotional vulnerability.

He started kissing me with urgency. “I want you.” He commanded. This felt awkward for me as nothing was resolved. I was going to roll off him when he used his hands to stop me. “No, stay on top.” and swiftly was able to remove his pans while I was still on top of him. Without any warning I felt his hot hard shaft sliding in my cunt.

What I didn’t understand until that moment was I was turned on by his force. I liked his control and his lust. You know that feeling when your cunt is so wet, it’s brimming with cunt juice? It’s brimming so carefully that it’s just begging for a cock to splash and play.

They say there are each of us communicates our love and receives communication of love in different ways. I communicate through touch. I love it when my partner touches me. I need and crave touch. He groped my ass, my thighs, my back. It was as if the vulnerability created a sense of timelessness.

I remember he licked my back like an icecream cone. Two curved swoops. I’ll never forget it and it was the hottest moment in my life.