I’ve never really understood how a woman could make love to you tenderly one minute, and wind up angry with you the next, without some bizarre happening in between. Call me crazy, and many have, but how does that work exactly? I can’t make love to you if I’m mad. But evidently, there are some woman who can.
Isn’t sex supposed to seal off the anger acting as a truce, like a white flag waved in the battlefield. For me, sex after a fight is passionate and forgiving all at once, reminding me of the sex you experience after a long drought of “no sex,” where your hunger trumps your tenderness, but somehow it doesn’t really matter, because it feels so fabulous you wish you could die in that moment, wallowing in ecstasy, since nothing will ever be that good again. Do you know what I mean?
Sex between women is usually more emotionally complicated, than the simple desire to achieve climax. It is a contract between hearts, a union of souls; or at the very least, a tender, loving gesture that can bring tears to your eyes if you’re not careful. Women move me. They also drive me crazy. So, what’s my point, you must be asking. The answer is, I don’t know. I’m reaching out to you for some wisdom, some guidance, a few answers.
For once, I am caught off guard and questioning sex and what it means at different times, and in particular, when one party is harboring some grudge or resentment. I had wonderful sex this morning and found out only moments later, that she was angry with me. She pouted while getting dressed, and gave me the cold shoulder. When I asked her what was up, she said we’d talk about it later, in that tone of voice that means you’re in trouble.
All I can figure is that I must have been very bad while I was asleep, since the last time I spoke to her before bed, everything seemed ok. Then, we woke up making love to each other. Sounds like a great start to the day, doesn’t it. But, to my surprise, moments later I found out she was angry about something.
Maybe I sleep walk and don’t realize it and got up and said something horrible to her, or kicked the dog, or cursed uncontrollably. I really don’t know. Because later has not arrived, and I am waiting like a child, uncertain of my punishment, or what I did or said that evoked such a negative vibe. You see, being sensitive is good and bad. I feel everything too much. This is my life. Yikes! Any kindred spirits out there who can give me some advice.
I am humbled by my lack of understanding of lesbians. Considering I am a lesbian and have played for that team for a couple of decades now, you would think I’d have some answers. But I’d rather go with the idea that true brilliance means you are aware of how very little you truly know, in which case I’m a genius.
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