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Est-ce toi?
Est-ce toi? Respecting modern day decorum and personal boundaries, you maintain a courteous veneer around your female colleagues. You might momentarily relapse and allow a wicked scene to flutter in your mind's eye, but you know better and quickly revert to seeing the beings in your everyday environment as asexual. Your partner at home has already fallen under that label. Frustrated by the burning desire to feel the warm, wet envelope of a woman's private sanctuary, you decide to take a leap of faith and start the arduous journey of finding a sexual partner. Weeding out the hacks, the geeks, the fools, the liars, the hookers, you are left exhausted. Almost at your wit's end and about to conclude that the human race is a f*cking disgrace, you decide to at least keep your profile alive. You check it for activity when the mood is right, but the importance of finding someone has softened. The journey has left your senses dulled. |
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To find one's senses dulled makes finding someone, though the importance has softened, more bleak. It is as though the desires of the woman is to please rather than be pleased, and yet also to be pleased. I would rather the opposite, to please the woman and to be pleased by the mutual pleasure experienced by both. However, this may confuse rather than intrigue, which is my dilemma.
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Confusion around what pleases a woman abounds. In the most simplistic term possible, the answer is to be desired. For some, a simple outreach of a hand is a satisfactory demonstration. For others, it means to be chased around a table like prey, pulled down to the floor, clothes ripped off and owned. The trick is to match the interest level so both parties are pleased. Unfortunately for me, my husband is the former while I am the latter.
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3/10/2017 3:03 pm |
Oh boy, can I identify with what you wrote! Aside from being at my wit's end and making depressingly negative conclusions about the state of the human race, or even the female component of it, you've described my situation to a T. I also wouldn't necessarily say that my senses are dulled, but my hope is certainly heading in that direction. And it's not only women who just want to be desired. Deep down I know, that more so than even the exquisite sensations of sex, it's the feeling of being desired that is what I need to make my life feel more complete. It has been a long time since I've had that feeling, sad to say. But I carry on. Hope isn't completely dead yet.
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