The Push Pull Dance


Yesterday we had sex.  It was really good sex.  The kind we hadn’t had in a long time.

Today, I lost my shit.

This happens every time we have sex and I don’t really know why.  I read somewhere that its hormones such as dopamine and oxytocin, which get raised during sex, dropping back to normal and that can cause anger and irritability in some women.  I don’t know.  For me, it is like destroying painstakingly crafted walls only to have to set them right again.  I call it the push pull dance.

It’s why we could never sustain a D/s relationship.  I would always bristle when he would tell me to do something.  It was one thing over the phone and IM.  It was quite another in person, living together.  I felt like an indentured servant, not a partner in a loving relationship whenever he would tell me to get him something to drink.

It’s been this way in some form or another with all my exes, but it has only gotten worse with my husband.

I cannot tolerate being vulnerable.  For most people, getting naked and letting another person literally inside of their bodies would make them feel vulnerable.  For me, I can divorce my mind from the rest of my body and therefore I don’t feel exposed.  I once told a therapist of mine that when it came to relationships that a partner could have either my heart or my body, but never both, and never at the same time.  That is how I cope with the onslaught of emotions I felt for the person, but I don’t know why.

When my husband and I first met, before we got to the love stage, we fucked like rabbits every chance we got.  Then I fell in love.  Then the sex stopped a couple of years.  I was terrified of loving this person, and terrified of how open and figuratively naked I had to be to actually make love to him.  But now, either through the miracle of psychiatric drugs, or something more sinister, we’ve started fucking like rabbits again.  And I can’t help but wonder if this is because I’ve withdrawn my heart his possession; rebuilding the wall that cracks every time we have sex.  It is a strange twist of fate in my story.  I can no longer feel the lovey dovey stuff I felt in the beginning, so now the only time I feel love at all is during sex, and I don’t like the way it make me feel.  So brick by brick, I keep us separated.  And brick by brick, he forces his way through.  I am just afraid that some day soon he will no longer try, and I will get the booby prize of being alone.

This probably makes no sense to anybody but me, but oh well.  I took my night time meds and am falling asleep on my computer.

3 Comments Add yours

  1. thecountessshadow says:

    I find this post very interesting. I can understand this paradox very well, as I used to feel almost the same earlier in my life (may be a little bit even now!). I remember as a teenager even in my fantasies when I masturbated alone, I always chose a girl I didn’t like to be able to think of sexually. I was unable to have any sort of sexual feelings towards my girlfriend and when my therapist asked why, I answered simply, because I love her! as if it was a common sense!
    I think the reason beyond that was my guilt and shame regarding my sexual taste (femdom I mean), it felt like my sexuality was a very bad and filthy thing and I did not want to taint my sweetheart with it, something like that. There is always a reason for this dissociation between emotions and sexuality related to self acceptance ( at least in my case). Anyway, what you wrote made sense to me. I would like to add that I passed by your blog by coincidence tonight, and I think it is a very good one. Keep up the good work and best wishes for you and your partner.

    1. Cherrie says:

      You just totally made my day by telling me you think my blog is good. Thank you for stopping by and thank you for following me.

      1. thecountessshadow says:

        You are welcome

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