I’s very nice knowing what I need.  Most of the drama in dating comes from people confusing what they want with what they need.  My approach to sex positivity is finally acknowledging all the shadowy corners of myself I never thought to share.  I’ve met people as dark as I am and they encourage me to embrace the darkness.  I feel less alone while continuing to stand firmly on my own.  My weakness is getting caught up in commitments, aka caring what other people think.

Its okay to care if you pick the right people to invest in.  I’ve only made one official commitment with anyone in this city and it involves keeping my head shaved.  I consider everything else temporary until there’s an agreement otherwise.  It’s a side-effect of amicable divorce – all commitments going forward have a higher standards.  We know what a good, stable relationship looks like and going forward I (personally) won’t settle for less.  My ex-husband and I might be pioneers in this area.  Based on the reactions I get to my story, other people associate divorce with pain and greed?

Anyway, I’m determined to be alone for a while before letting anyone into my inner sanctum.  I’m certain my next major relationship will be born of friendship so I’m pollinating all the cool friends I can find.  Despite the personal-sounding nature of that metaphor, hanging with friends usually only involves conversation and/or alcohol.  In the interim, I have ample access to sexual partners that fulfill the more euphemistic busy bee that I am.  I’m flexing my dom muscles by remaining abrupt about scheduling and what we should do. It’s subtle but still makes me feel like a bitch sometimes.  Funny thing is, it makes some people like me even more.

My bossy aspect is something I’ve tried to repress since high school.  I believe leadership involves compassion and I’m too cold-hearted to wield tough love effectively.  I can objectively improve things when someone spills their troubles to me but if invested in their feelings, I’m quickly pugilistic and biased.  I had a great relationship with a boy in high school.  We didn’t drink, steal or do drugs – just had lots and lots of sex..  His mom was cool with us just hanging out in his attic room all the time “playing computer games”.  We didn’t think anyone knew we were having sex.  I’ve since learned how loud I am and how thin walls actually are.  I can only assume she was mostly cool with it.  Or dumb as paste.

By the end of high school we separated, too practical to consider any kind of long-term commitment.  I remember driving away from his house the last time before college started.  I wept and felt an empty spot in my heart but it was as inevitable as great-grandma’s funeral.  I also knew it was for the best because during senior year I discovered the awful truth.  Years of consistent sex and comfortable living had made him my slave.  He did whatever I asked even when it was ridiculously lazy.  He rarely spoke against me and even then did it politely.  I was not a good mistress.  I lacked empathy and common sense.  I’m ready to try again.