Carys Weldon Blog
Monday, June 05, 2006
Sex dreams and bad thingsSo, stop here if you don't like tmi posts.
I had this great sexy dream about my husband...who you know is in Alaska. I met him at the airport, and we had one of those movie kisses...long, savoring, embrace...the kind that makes women swoon just watching. The type where the hero puts his arms around the girl in a possessive grasp and she melts in a backward arch?
(Doesn't happen often in real life because he hates airports and just wants to get the hell out after traveling through them for two days. And who can blame him?)
Anyhow, we went to a motel--a close one--and entered the door with those kind of kisses that are desperate to keep the lips locked, and the physical contact--as we're undressing each other literally before the door is shut.
Before long, I'm on top, we're naked--and the whole desperate to get it done thing is still in the air. He rolls me, smiles down at me, says something to make me laugh, and makes love to me in a romantic, sweet and sexy but deep and exhilarating way.
Yeah, that's all good...for a fantasy dream.
Anyhow, the dream warped and the next thing I know we're in a truck driving and I find that he's got a book he's keeping, a list of my faults. (Yeah, yeah, I'm a woman, and paranoid. Who didn't know that?)
I'm absolutely flabbergasted at the marks he's got down. How many times I said or did something he didn't like, or didn't agree with. Just dots on the page--his shorthand--(not in real life, just in the dream.) So, I ask, "What is all this?"
And after all that sweet motel sex--which you know is always the best kind--he turns to me and says, "I can't stand you. I've got a list of reasons why, too."
Okay, so yeah. All the things I think are wrong with me came out in that nightmare. Because by now it IS a nightmare. My heart stops beating. I can't swallow.
But my warped little psyche turned on itself and said, "Yeah? Well this is why I do these things."
So, of course, the nightmare went from bad to worse. I woke up mad at him for being mean to me. (You know, the poor innocent guy in Alaska.)
Which is actually funny because...
Once, he woke up and was cranky all day long. I finally turned to him and asked, "What is your problem?!?"
He said, "Well, I'm mad because you went off with a biker dude."
Of course, I blinked. "What biker dude?"
"Blond guy with a ponytail. If you're gonna leave me, for God's sake don't do it for a hippy."
(He's a redneck, remember.)
Picture me with my lips pursed and eyes narrowed trying to figure out what the hell he's talking about, then saying succinctly, "I never went anywhere with a biker dude, ever, except my dad, and he never had a blond ponytail. I swear it."
He said, "Oh, yes you did. And you were making no secret of the relationship, either."
"No secret of what relationship?"
"You told me that you did all sorts of things for him--before you rode off."
(Paraphrasing the convo of course.)
For ages, he'd get a look on his face--calculating if I'd do that some day, I think. And I just laughed at him. I mean, I like men. Most men, except the putzes and weasels. And they make me laugh. But I don't look around for bed partners. I do my best not to think of cheating. I made vows. I try to behave (on some levels anyway.)
I think you can fix relationship problems with good communication skills, if both parties are willing to give a little. And I think that once ya cheat, it's easy to rationalize it again--which is why most cheaters do it more than once. But I'm no expert. What do you think?
As my dream played out, I found out that my husband had cheated on me. Get this, with a blonde woman with a ponytail that was a lot rougher than I am. (Equivalent to a biker dude's bitch?) She bragged to me about how he took care of her, did sexy things for her.
And, for measure here, just picture yourself standing in front of the woman who stole your man--the narrow tunnel of vision, and echoing in your hearing that comes when you cannot believe what is coming out of someone's mouth. And the feeling of devastation squeezing your heart.
Funny how our greatest desires and worst fears play on our unconscious minds sometimes, isn't it?
So, I woke up sad that my husband would even think of cheating on me...even though all those reasons to leave me that I'd come up with are still floating in my head. You know, I'm not skinny. My breasts aren't perky and round like headlights. (Were they ever?) He says yes. I can't remember.
Anyhow, I'm melancholy sad, wondering how he'll see me when he steps off the plane next week. I'm always just...relieved to finally set eyes on him again.
But...man, I wish I had the money for a full body sculpting, major liposuction--and a boatload full of pain pills to cover the recovery (and the year after--just for fun!)
Then part of me gets sadder...why can't we just get happy with who we are? I admire women who love their bodies.
I had a friend once that used to cry because she was so thin and bony. She just wanted to grow up to be a woman with curves, and a grandma with a bosom that invited hugs. She ALMOST had my sympathy--but, lol, she finished her sad cries with, "Like you're gonna be!"
It slapped me in the face. Even though it was what you call one of those backhanded compliments. Funny how perception of things gets skewed by where we're coming from, isn't it?
If I had one wish in the world for women everywhere, it would be that "who they are, and how they are, the things they can't change--would not stop them from feeling good about themselves and showing the person inside their body...the spirt that makes them unique."
Let's love each other unconditionally, support each other whole heartedly, forgive uncalculatedly.
Let's have our spirits climb through the body to express the sensual being within without inhibition, and let's feel good about doing it. Women are sensual beings but how often do we let our inner vixens out? Not often enough, I think.
Anyhow, that's how I started my day. How about you?
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