We Could Dream This Night Away

As Autumn shimmies in, it’s a big time for reflection. In fact, it’s the Harvest Moon tonight (also known as the Wine Moon, the Singing Moon, the Blue Corn Moon and the Elk Call Moon). So we might bask in the abundance that we’re reaping; or we might wonder if we’ve actually sown enough of – or good enough of – what we should have this past year.

A few days ago, Yom Kippur was observed. Otherwise known as the Day of Atonement, it’s the most solemn and holy day on the Jewish calendar (which, by the way, also happens to be a lunar calendar – so no coincidence that it falls during this most contemplative time of year). It’s traditional not only to do some deep soul-searching, but also to deny oneself of certain basic comforts for 24 hours in order to symbolically repent and focus. For example, one is supposed to fast, give up bathing and not engage in sexual relations to name a few.

Forgiveness is a major theme of this holy day. We are meant to be asking for forgiveness for any transgressions that we may have committed during the past year – either intentionally or unintentionally – and we are supposed to find forgiveness in our hearts as well. We ponder how we can do better for others, for ourselves and for the world in the new year.

So I got to thinking (uh, oh, there she goes again!): In terms of sex, is there anything you’d like to do better with in the coming year? Have you been true to yourself sexually? Have you done everything you can to meet your lover’s needs? Are you living who you really are – your best self sexually, emotionally, intellectually, creatively, otherwise? 

And when I say you, I mean all of us, including me. Which got me thinking even more (Red alert! Red alert!), especially upon reading Ed C. Wood’s blog from this past week, It’s Just Sex? Ed raises some really good questions when it comes to pondering if I’m being true to myself sexually. Like Ed, I am of two minds on the matter: on the one hand, sex is sex. I adore sex. I need sex. Sex is healthy. It’s part of who I am. I want it (dare I say… I’m nearly desperate for it).

Although I take care of myself liberally as needed, it’s beginning to reach that critical point where nothing but a penis – a penis attached to a real live human being who also has arms and lips, amongst other things – will satiate my profound need. I almost feel like a Hazmat situation, walking around like a radioactively charged danger to myself and others. I know that if I really wanted to, I could fuck that corner ice cream store owner with the reddish hair and the blue eyes and the pony tail who has that Viking look that so totally turns my crank (“Please pillage me?”) I’m pretty sure it would be hot and raw and that I’d catch some un-intended girly feelings. I could also (if I were a different sort of person. Read: opportunist and user) take the infatuated, kind, intellectual, poetic African professor up on his offer to pay my way to his university in Florida so we could explore the possibility of making some babies together (therein lies the rub: he’d like to make some babies; I’d like to suck and ride on a big cock sometime again in this lifetime. Are the two mutually exclusive?)

But, see, here’s the other hand of the matter. And I really sometimes wish that this part didn’t matter, so that I could just go get me some dick and move on with a freshly-fucked swagger. That is, despite the urgency of “getting my groove back,” sex is a powerful and complex thing. I’m not so sure that I could – like a decade ago – live on booty calls. Just fucking might be helpful in the immediate term, but upon asking myself Ed’s question, “Is it just sex?,” I must admit that (at least for me, and we’re all different) no – I don’t think it can be “just sex” for me anymore – much as I’d like it to be. So then, given how much I need and want sex, how can I be sexually true to myself at this time?

This past year, the lover whom I thought was my “one” (the man who broke my heart and cracked my soul and had me feeling like a widow when he disappeared inexplicably after having told me I was his “one” and had asked me to be with him and share our lives together – yeah, that man) had, while we were in the early stages of discovering the epic connection we had, enlightened me about a song by my life lyricist, Morrissey, which I had shockingly not previously known about, called, “Let the Right One Slip In.”  I must be honest here, listening to this song again is heart-wrenching because there had been no doubt in my heart, mind, soul and body that we were made for each other; that the Universe had finally brought us each “the right one” and he was the only one I wanted to let “slip in.” Forever.

Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They cannot
They cannot
They cannot do what you want them to do
Oh …

Let the right one in
Let the old dreams die
Let the wrong ones go
They do not
They do not
They do not see what you want them to
Oh …

Let the right one in
Let the old things fade
Put the tricks and schemes (for good) away

Ah … I will advise
Ah … Until my mouth dries
Ah … I will advise you to …

Ah … let the right one slip in
Slip in
Slip in

And when at last it does
I’d say you were within your rights to bite
The right one and say, “what kept you so long ?”
“What kept you so long ?”

You see, I had truly thought that I would no longer be in this quandary of either seeking out “just sex” with other people, or keeping my own self somewhat satiated whilst waiting for “the right one.” I realize that in our spectrum of sexuality, these are not my only choices, so I continue to ruminate on how to be true to my own self and my own sexuality. How to forgive him as well as how to forgive myself if I’m not getting or giving what I need.

Perhaps my dear Ed C. Wood has offered up a bit of a solution for me in the meantime. On its way to me is a new, shiny toy. Perhaps, while I’m waiting for my future lover to find me, this will help me usher in a new era of possibilities – of exploring my own sexuality and learning new things about what my body can do. And maybe even making myself better for my next lover. How lucky am I to have a friend like Ed C. Wood?! He’s such a good friend and Sex Wonks partner that if I were a dude, I’d allow him to practice prostate stimulation on me in his quest for fulfilling ass play!

Meanwhile – in the spirit of being true to myself in the new year – when it was time for the fast to end after Yom Kippur, I realized that my need for “Vitamin O” outweighed even my need for food in that moment. So I gave myself a big O. And nearly passed out. Dear Readers, should you ever decide that you need an orgasm after having fasted for 24 hours, please make sure that you are near furniture or something you can grab onto, lest you find yourself on the floor. Or do yourself a favour and eat something first before coming.

In the spirit of the season, here’s wishing you a bountiful harvest of good sex!

Love,

Rosa

rosa.sparks@sexwonks.com

*Image by Njoy

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