That cookie-tossing feeling.

All my life, when I've been about to have sex with a man I didn't know very well, I've become painfully nauseous. I've actually puked before sex with at least three guys (at least two of whom totally knew but weren't dissuaded) and even if my cookies don't come up my stomach is always tied in a knot the first few times I'm about to do a new guy. It's not conscious reluctance, it's just a physical and mental tension. A little fear, a little performance/body anxiety, a whole lot of overexcitement.

Going up to a new friend's apartment wearing matching undies is the same feeling as being on a rollercoaster slowly ratcheting up the first hill. I got myself into this because I thought I'd love it--and I still think I will--but Jesus Christ I'm scared--but there's no backing out now. (Of course I could always tell the ride operator to let me off and I'm sure he would, but I never have, because deep down I know that the fear is false, it's only a ride and once it gets moving I'll be screaming with joy.)

I miss that feeling. Going into sex with your nerves overwound can be uncomfortable and sometimes embarrassing, but it's one fuck of a rush. It's the sympathetic nervous system. Fight or flight. Pupils dilate, heart races, stomach tightens, muscles tense. Hairs stand on end and every nerve is very, very alert.

With Alan, it's long gone. He doesn't judge me, won't hurt me, is cuddlebunny close and frankly pretty predictable. He gives me nothing to fear. I certainly don't resent him for that; that would be ridiculous and I do like nice guys--but I want to feel that exhilarating terror again.

I feel a tad bit sick saying this, it's not a desire that'll serve me well if I get older or marry or have kids, but right now, I want someone new.


(I'm not dumping Alan. Just looking for a... supplementary partner.)
(And if you're new to the blog, Alan does know and approve of my cheatin' heart. He's a sweetie like that.)