I spent most of my day entertaining the electrician who came over to install a new power point for M’s recently purchased stainless steel oven. Tradesmen, in my opinion are a necessary evil: I can’t do the shit they do so I need them, but at the same time I feel totally invaded when they start messing around in places people aren’t meant to go.
Like the back of the refrigerator.
“Looks like you’ve got some mouse poo back here!” he yelled gleefully as he manoeuvred the fridge out of the way to get at the wall cavity.
It was at that point that I was so mortified, I actually started cleaning.
Because nothing will get me cleaning like fossilised mouse poo behind a refrigerator.
Then a few hours later while I was dutifully de-cobwebbing down-pipes he asked if he could use the toilet. As I showed him where it was, I couldn’t help feeling invaded again.
Because nothing makes me feel more invaded than people using my toilet.
Which is really strange because I don’t have issues with public toilets other than when they don’t have toilet paper and I don’t have tissues so I have to do the jiggle-shake-panty-dab.
And you know what? After someone has used my toilet, I can’t use it myself for several hours. Instead, I go and use M’s toilet until my levels of ‘invasion’ have settled down a bit.
I’m strange, aren’t I?
But speaking of invasion, a couple of question from Ipi on my last post reminded me about another particular time when I feel a bit ‘invaded’.
The enquiring mind of Ipi asked:
Are solo orgasms enough for the rest of your life? And if they are is that just because you have issues with letting go in front of others or has it become a kink of sorts? Would you like it to change in time(for the better, however scary that is)?
Well, to answer the questions: probably, no, dunno.
All clear? 🙂
I smiled a little when I read the first question. I suppose people who have had mind-blowing, multiple orgasms as a part of their daily life can wonder how I could possibly get by with anything else. To be honest, I’ve never known anything different, so yes they are enough – they have to be.
See, I’m a bit special in the clit department and I have complete sympathy for men who have trouble locating one because I often have trouble locating mine. My clit seems to move like a ghostly set of keys that aren’t where you last left them and sometimes, it’s just not there at all and when it ain’t there, there isn’t anything that can coax that sucker out – try as I might with whatever is on hand, including my hand.
Just for the record, it seems to be genetic. My mum has apparently never had an orgasm in her 59 years of life and it has nothing to do with the fact that she’s a lesbian! My sister, on the other hand, seems to have inherited my randy dandy father’s genes and has absolutely no problems any which way – if there be dick, she be cummin’.
So I hope that cleared up questions one and two and now onto question three…would I like it to change?
That’s a toughie. In an ideal world, I’d be a sexual beast and my clithood ring would be something more than just a piece of jewellery, but I’m not. In fact, having a release involves the alignment of the planets, a sacrifice of goat and two pieces of twine (that McGyver hasn’t turned into a helicopter). It’s tough work and being under pressure pretty much guarantees that nothing will happen. Sometimes M likes to have me do a release in front of him and the whole time I can feel him waiting, waiting, waiting and it just takes my release far, far, far away.
Other times he does things that I find pleasurable under the right circumstances i.e. nipple ouchie-ness, but don’t enjoy without some stuff to balance out the ouchie-ness. This is when I find it ‘invasive’. Sometimes I have to fight the urge to say, “You’re doing it wrong!!” but I have to remind myself that in those instances it’s not about what I want or what I enjoy, but about what he wants and enjoys.
I like to set aside a good hour or two for a release and things have to be just ‘so’. Actually I think it’s getting harder as I get older to get any sort of release, so when I repeatedly have to spend my days off entertaining tradesmen when I could be having a well-planned release that I’ve looked forward to for ages, NOT HAPPY JAN!!
(Have I mentioned that the dishwasher guy has failed to appear on 5 separate occasions now?? Five days over three weeks when I’ve been hanging around feeling impending invasion and not able to have a release…REALLY NOT HAPPY JAN!!)
I’m sure a lot of helpful people would at this point suggest some counselling or drugs or something to better my orgasm-challenged situation, but honestly, as I’ve said before, I’ve never known anything else so it doesn’t bother me. I call it the ‘dishwasher effect’ – if you never have a dishwasher, you can spend your life washing dishes by hand and wondering how good a dishwasher actually is. But if you have a dishwasher and then you have to go back to washing dishes by hand, you are so fucked because you know what you are missing and it makes it 50x worse.
We’ve had a non-operational dish-washer for over 3 weeks now. For three weeks I’ve been washing dishes by hand and moaning and whining about my lack of dishwasher for the entire time, but for the first 29 years of my life I didn’t have a dishwasher, didn’t want a dishwasher and didn’t understand the fuss people made about them.
Then I experienced the pure joy that a dishwasher brings to your life and I wondered how I survived 29 years without one.
Life is interesting.