I have side stepped this posting for a few weeks. I also was inspired by Rob (@RobSays__) and his comments in the realm of men overthinking things. I wanted to build on what he has said.
(Polite note: I borrowed the title from On Killing by Lt. Col. Dave Grossman. The book was awesome and reminded me of the different types of “intimacy”.)
I was one of those people that was too stuck on stupid tropes and expectations. I often didn’t let the female love interests in my life be people. I saw them as magical entities and pedestalized visions. I failed to do many things.
I failed to see that natural processes wreaked havoc on them just as bad as I did. Many or most of the women I knew couldn’t see what I did, those women often having doubtful thoughts in their lives. One day had them feeling one way and the next feeling quite possibly the opposite, no one ever told me this. They were just as nervous as you were, often not having the ability to relay what they wanted to say. (RBF being a shitty thing that nature gave both sexes).
No one told me that they weren’t psychic, they didn’t have the ability to read our minds. These women weren’t finding a reason to destroy anyone, on the contrary the women were often worried about their own survival instead of some generated conspiracy for supremacy. They weren’t wizards of words like sitcoms painted them.
Further more, they weren’t “goddesses”. 50% or more of them had one breast bigger than another. Many of them had a myriad of “stinks” instead of whatever the commercials painted them out to be. Their hair wasn’t the sun kissed flax strands but a punishment they could never figure out. Every fashion choice was second guessed instead of admired for how it hugged their breasts. They wobbled in their shoes.
All of this shit came to a confluence of sorts. The shit I had been programmed by plus terrible self vision hampered my results. I wasn’t enjoying good sex. I sure as hell wasn’t getting close enough. I made women some unattainable goal, instead of human beings. But I did a few things…
I let go. I let them be people. I didn’t give a shit anymore. I turned off the propaganda from society. I sure as hell ignored plenty of other people. I found a blank slate.
I found out that I wouldn’t know great sex until I found a great lover in myself. I had to let go. I sure as hell had to let go of the programmed expectation that my partners had to be automaton level fuckbots. Until I did, I wouldn’t know the joys of decent sex.
When I did let go, I found mostly decent partners. Some had sought validation, some sense of control, but a few wanted to orgasm. But the best of those joined me in efforts, enjoying a partner as much as I did.
I was able to find something good. We might have not been the heart throb’s from Cake’s Italian Leather Sofa but we sure as hell had a good time. Laughing at body processes, freckles, and untaught sensations. None of this would have been possible if I had stayed on my destructive path.