Have you even lived if you haven’t gotten high and danced to Arcade Fire while sitting at your computer topless and staring at spreadsheets sort of idly while eating a fish taco and hoping that *he* will think to text you before his night ends?
Honestly doesn’t matter for me, because it seems I have, in fact, “lived” given the parameters above.
Le sigh. xx- Leah
I wish we could speak to each other exclusively through music sometimes.
For all of the ways that my mind processes the synapses my heart fires to it, it somehow comprehends feelings more truly, deeply, and comprehensively if it is set to a lovely little tune. Tell me that you adore me just because? I might cringe if you say it to my face. Set it to music? I will literally blow you on the spot. Music is a catalyst for feeling just a bit more deeply. It is so gracious in how it translates in that way.
Anyway… Am I about to share a One Tree Hill Quote? Why yes. I fucking am.
The last time I thought that I could actually fall for someone, I made a playlist. I never sent it, and he bailed anyway. But I think there is a part of me that starts assigning music to someone as soon as they enter my heart to any substantive depth. As it were, I already have playlists categorized in insane “High Fidelity” sort of ways. Titles like “Love songs that always get to me,” “If I Made Soundtracks,” “Therapy,” and “Profound.” I hone in on these certain moments. The way the artist sings “sweetheart” with this certain trill. Lyrics like “let’s bypass the bullshit because the minute hand moves faster than we think it does.” Artists that create music that is genuinely transcendental…
I just wish I had a better mechanism with which to share it with you. Or the courage. Or any sort of assurances that you were remotely interested in the music. cc: me
p.s. I apologize for the disappearance. I lost a dear friend suddenly, then I think I may have gotten a little lost for awhile as well. But I am back in action, and I am regrounded. More to come – Cheers!
Beautifully defined and beautifully lived. #hvoc #hervowofcelibacy #Repost @trystnetwork ・・・ What is sex positivity? According to Colorado State University's Women and Gender Advocacy Center, it's "the idea of informed consent and agency within one’s own sexuality. For some people this means having lots of sex. For other people it might mean abstaining. Sex positivity aims to remove stigma and shame from all sexual choices." #Tryst #TrystNetwork #SexPositive #BodyPositive Artwork by @fridacastelli • • • #instablogger #bloggers #blog
Sorry I’ve been a bit out of pocket lately, y’all. Here are some bullet points on what’s new/ a brief explanation of why I have been so absent.
- I met a really, really great guy. (PS5) He is quirky, hilarious, terrifyingly great at kissing, and has been unbelievably patient and understanding about this current celibacy thing.
- PS5 and I shared a Valentine’s Day date. I think it must have been my first in at least 4 years… We also shared an exceptional first kiss on this date as well as some laughs and fun.
- We had 3 more dates after this, and he has continued to respect my celibacy. He also has been the most aligned mental match and hilarious suitor I have been near in years. (He will undoubtedly get a blog all of his own.) Then….
… One of my best friends suddenly passed away. So I broke my celibacy (again) by getting mercilessly and perfectly fucked by one of my (not even remotely compatible in the long term) college Latin tutors who I saw at the funeral.
This is what my therapist tells me is “regression to homeostasis.” Except my homeostasis is trysts with men who are good for the body but not the soul.
Reset the clock, I guess? For the next week or two, I am going to recenter on my “why,” and thus bring you up to speed on how I even got here in the first place. Buckle up, y’all.
Because I have a date on Valentine’s Day…? The last time this happened was like 2009, soooo….
Ok. This is fine, right? This is normal. People do this all the time. I can do this. Oh fuck.
Dirty pleasure movies (in no particular order)
- Shakespeare in Love
- High Fidelity
- That Thing You Do
- Good Will Hunting
- Space Jam
Are any of the above movies available for consumption somewhere that I am present? If so, I am watching it.
Outside of its iconic classiness and impeccable musical intersections, That Thing You Do always stands out to me for containing one of the best lines a man could ever possibly utter to a woman. “When’s the last time you were good and kissed?” (Note: Dionysus once asked me a similar-ish question but if memory serves me correctly, he also fucked me in a stairwell shortly thereafter, so like… the writing was really on the wall there. Anyway…)
In my time of being a full blown slut bag for a couple of years, the biggest thing that I missed was … just… kissing. Making out. With or without agenda.
Think about it though! Think about the last time that you were good. and. kissed. There really is something gorgeous attached to that. And I had (have?) essentially eliminated it as a portion of my interactions with humans since I was last in a relationship. Which is ABSURD! Kissing is the best! It is one of my favorite hobbies, and IMHO one of my resume worthy skills. But it only sort of occurred incidentally since I stopped having sex with feelings. Even really good kisses were slightly cheapened because they were exclusively a mechanism to kill time in the broader sex process.
So when was it? When was the last time that I felt like I was good and kissed?
John is one of my best friends on the whole planet. He has seen me through my wonderful and less than stellar moments with most of the men who you will see mentioned here. In fact, he has had this weird ability to actually be very, very close friends with all of the men who have come and gone. He is just really… cool. Like the kind of dude that you could drop in literally any room or any conversation and he would figure out a way to connect with someone within it. Additionally he knows the absolute worst and most absurd parts of me, but he just so happens to somehow be willing to hang out anyway. He is wildly clever and extremely interesting. He is incredible at his job (which just so happens to mean he is also great with kids), and he is just one of those rare gems of a human in my life. To make matters even worse, John and I are both just make out seeking missiles the second we consume alcohol.
Editor’s note: I know. I know what you are thinking, so let’s just go ahead and address it before we go any further down this trail. John and I 100% could never and should never be together. And that’s it. We’ve both always known that, and we have largely conducted ourselves accordingly. And before you ask, yes – OF COURSE I have thought about John as being more. No less than a hundred times and with increasing frequency as other men came and went and he stayed. But no matter how many times it has crossed my mind, I have known that it’s not even worth it to risk a conversation on the matter. Not to mention an actual attempt at something.
John also just so happens to be a total fuck boy. But he does it in this extra shitty way where I KNOW he does fuck boy things but is also the greatest man I have ever met.
Anyway – now for the kissing part…
Given the aforementioned fuck boy tendencies and our shared propensity for kissing literally everyone, at some point I realized that it was actually absurd that John and I never kissed. So in true Leah fashion, I began to bring it up ALL THE TIME. Like to the point of awkwardness. I would regularly reinforce that it was totally lame that we hadn’t kissed and feign hurt when he would ignore my staged advances.
Then one night we went to an event together for a local non-profit then went out for drinks and dancing after. (This is an important time to mention that John was also socially off limits because his best friend banged the brakes off of me for a little over a year and we formed a sort of Three Musketeers trio during this time. This is also another reminder that I really need to finish this glossary of suitors so you all can keep these men straight, eh? Ok. I promise I will soon.) As we were leaving the bar, our friend group was trickling out one-by-one to move on to the next location. I walked out of the bar into a hallway. I looked around to see where everyone was, and the only person who I saw was John standing on the other side of some glass doors that led to the parking garage where our cars were. I started walking towards him and as soon as the door opened, it was just very apparent what was happening…
So after months of half-jokes and ridiculous self-imposed boundaries. John and I kissed.
It was perfect. It was simple. It was one of the safest, loveliest kisses I have ever experienced. Then we just released each other as I stuttered my way through saying… something… I don’t honestly remember what… Our other friends joined us and we all just walked away.
A couple of months later, we would kiss again. Drunkenly. Hastily. And with much more touching. We were in the home of the third musketeer, and John had a girl visiting him from out of town. Said girl was very clearly jonesin’ for some John love, but he vehemently denied any interest in hooking up with her. At one point, his guest and the third musketeer went outside to play with / let out the dog. Again without conversation or really any previous indicators during the evening that something was going to happen, I found myself furiously kissing John. During this particular tryst he accomplished a feat which still mystifies me to this day in that he briefly fingered me while I was wearing a floor length formal dress. This kiss was completely different from the first. It was almost unsettled. It was intense, graciously limited on both the space it had to escalate or overthink, passionate, and once again – annoyingly perfect.
It stopped as quickly as it began (and PRAISE THE LORD) only seconds before the other two came back inside. We walked opposite directions…
John went home and had sex with that girl. I woke up the next morning in bed with the Third Musketeer… But that’s the thing with John. He can somehow be the last man to kiss me well and also be the man who fucks another girl after that kiss. And that’s why he can also be the one man who holds my whole heart and soul in certain moments, but also not the man that I choose to kiss regularly. But luckily these moments remind me why I am celibate now in hopes of kissing a best friend/ passionate lover sometime again in the future. Apparently that’s the thing that breeds the best kisses? Meh. We shall see…
So that’s it. That’s the last time I was good and kissed. When was yours?
p.s. John, if you use this as collateral to make out with other women, I will harm you physically.