The end sharply arrived upon me without notice. Only the rumbles of my intuition to warn me -which I trusted more than his words all along. But still how it befuddled me that someone could be either so callous to their own desires or so inconsiderate of mine. When I ask for sex men seem to see it as using them. Like devotees use prayer I am. Using them to reach the highest planes of my existence. To feel used after aiding someone in touching god and hearing them cry out feverishly, that seems delusional. Unless for you, sex is something that is more than physical. Well sex cannot be divided into compartments I suppose. Much like nothing else can. Where does the body end and where do emotions begin? The pang in my stomach that struck me as soon as I saw part of his text, “you told me to tell you…”. A familiar pang of betrayal. I felt that same pang in my gut when I got Devla’s text and when I saw megan’s comment on my Facebook. I don’t remember that pang before these instances. But I immediately felt that pang and I knew what he was gonna say next. (Don’t speak.) And then a knot in my stomach. A physical pang of doom. Hurt. When I expressed that I was upset to hear his words, he said “really? It was just sex lol”. I felt so many things reading these words. Misunderstood. Vulnerable. Invisible. Like he just didn’t get it. Must’ve not been in the room. Cuz sex, it's not just sex. And it is. Just and sex next to each other though… it didn’t look right in a text coming from him. Because for me it was satiation. Recognition. Appreciation. Satisfaction. But it confused me because for me it is also just sex. Not love. Not romance. And yet, sex means the world to me. Not in a precious, porcelain way. In a convertible down a desert road in a music video kind of way. In a Pocahantas leaping off a cliff into the river kinda way. In a peak crescendo of a techno crash of sonic waves on a sweaty dancefloor at 1 am. In other words, orgasmic. And orgasms are not “just” orgasms. They are cosmic collisions- explosions of euphoria. The essence of life force and life force energy. Just Sex? Most people would consider that “just sex” juxtaposes emotion, romance, love. But for me “just sex” juxtaposes death, emptyness, hopelessness. Saying “just sex” is like saying “just life” . When you tell someone that there has been a loss and they express their upset and then you say “really, but it was just life”. That's what I felt when he said that. Like he was mocking the whole damn field of existence. Mocking me. If I am a sex goddess who touches the divine and invites others into the divine and then it is “just sex” that I am the queen of, does the kingdom get reduced to just an empire? Or do I realize that the narrator is more hollow than I thought. That he is not connected to anything beyond a shallow way of seeing the world and a narrow view of what life is. Go. Be happy with a love who you can cuddle and cry with. I can’t and won’t be that for you. And if that's what you want, I won’t hold you back. But with a divine gift of longevity and length that you possess, what a waste on someone who has no desire to be a sex god. Who would rather renounce his crown and go be a peasant. Playing a game of monogamy and goal oriented behavior. Circumventing sexual ecstasy. It was just sex we were having. Comparing it to the depths of my relationship with Erik would make no sense. And yet, it was a force in my life that fueled me. Gave me hope. Served me. So sure, it was “just” life force energy. And I am “just” a sex goddess. And he “just” had a gorgeous cock and could use it for hours on end enthusiastically. And he was “just” a lover I had for a couple months. And it “just” wasn’t meant to be. And I’ll “just” find someone else to check all the same boxes and more. And he’ll " just" reduce me in his memory to “just” the best sex he’s ever had. And “just” fantasize about me when his girlfriend rolls over in bed and says she's too tired. And he’ll "just" remember my “perfect body”, his words. And I’ll "just" keep building my empire. And I’ll "just" have to start back at one in building my harem. And I’ll "just" keep living life on my own damn terms. And it’ll "just" be an epic saga that I’ll tell fondly instead of a story that starts like “once upon a time” and ends with “and they lived happily ever after” with a wildly predictable center part. And I’ll "just" keep being a badass, world changing bitch. And I’ll "just" keep lighting the world on fire with my wet pussy. And I’ll "just" surrender to the wisdom the universe has and the instructions it has received to get my needs met one way or another- my way even as it surprises and delights me. Are you gonna go my way?
I say with a resounding voice in a temple where my vocal chords reverbarate across the gilded walls like an organ. Many of the men look down at their feet and scuffle away with their tails between their legs. They don’t make eye contact for fear I will recognize the cowardice in them. A few stand tall, erect and smiling. Ready to meet me in my needs, or at least up for the challenge of trying. Their muscles glisten with sweat. They lick their lips knowingly. Aware of their talents. Confidence in the experience they’re about to deliver. We retire to my chambers where one by one I decide who will stay and who will be excommunicated. And with every rolling sensation of pleasure I think to myself, I deserve this.
I surrender.