Lately, I have been reading and re-reading all of the old writing I have stored on my beloved MacBook Pro. It’s been a bit shocking to see what consumed my thoughts a mere 12 months ago. I struggled with how to define the relationships I was in and I grappled with lack of depth in my actions.
When I first began scrolling through what feel to be ancient writings I was almost angered with how I thought about relationships, sex and my role within them. The reoccurring theme that resonated throughout all of the samplings revolved around love being nothing more than physically active acts being strung together and classified as something more.
Although I couldn’t help but feel mortified with my past notions of what a relationship consists of. Maybe I needed to think that way in order to cultivate the ability to move beyond that. My attitude on love has moved from rash and apathetic to sentimental and a lush sense of understanding with another.
Would it even be possible for me to feel the way I do today without having had the experiences I have had? Could I feel so grounded in my relationships today had I not questioned relationships in the past?
Maybe our yesterday’s do dictate our tomorrow’s.
((Below is on of the pieces I wrote in February 2012. Wow have times changed))
Not so “Casual”
I got to thinking that maybe there is no such thing as “casual” dating or “casual” sex. Can something as intimate as making love really be considered “casual?” When I think casual I think of a ripped pair of denim shorts, or a lunch date with an old friend. The steamy moments spent between the sheets or in the shower don’t seem to be synonymous with “casual.”
Sure, a girl can kick of her black leather boots, strip out of her ripped tights and slither out of her little black dress, jump into bed with an attractive European and convince herself the next day that it was a simple act of “casual” circumstance.
She will reminisce of the whiskey and waters that were poured, the toasts that were made to good friends and the very moment he grabbed her waist pulling her on top of him. She will stand in the mirror the next day examining her neck, spotting the evidence of last nights rendezvous. And, as she stares at her reflection in the mirror she may even begin to convince herself that these “casual” acts could amount to something not so “casual.”
But, while a lady may find that kind of penetrative aggression a sign of lust … or even love, it’s always the gents that are still a step behind looking for another notch in their belt, or another dent in their bedpost.
Long gone are the days of handwritten love letters when a man goes out to war. So long are the nights spent pining for the unattainable. Now, it’s all an endless stream of one-night stands and “casual” nothings.
Love has turned into an indefinable “causal” outing.