No longer in the shadows.....When did intimacy become casual? Or better yet, when did it become an expectation?I felt a bit hesitant about posting the imagery leading up to denied intimacy in last night's post, "Mr. Blade." Overall, I feel like it was a good read and decent writing BUT, I feared readers would slap a label on me like a can of soup. Chicken Prudle Soup. "Why didn't you just sleep with him? It isn't a big deal..." But maybe that was my point. Why isn't it a big deal whom I decide to let in, more than just physically? When did it stop becoming one? He didn't even call me beautiful or anything other than sexy. Every person is beautiful (yes, you reading this). I just want to know when sex became as casual as day drinking. Has it become a 2019 standard to reward a mediocre dinner and a few over-priced cocktails for sex? While what-- I twirl my balayage hair, holding $23 of product and most of my self-esteem? And then what? I'm left with unraveling attachment, an additional "notch in my lipstick case," and underground worth. All while he thinks about.... I don't know-- ANYTHING ELSE. Even if the guy in no form or fashion was prince charming, thoughts of "why was I not enough to stay" suffocate me. It's a form of rejection I can't combat. The standard deviation is the perception of the interactions with these intimacies. This blog is a platform for scrutiny in its purest form. It is a tightrope between Slut Shaming or Prude Patronizing, either way, you fall flat on your face. So, you keep your little black book in your dresser or turn it into a blog. Guess I took the road less traveled and yet I still hesitate. I hold back details that could reveal the identity of the "misters" that have made their debut. I insinuate very little about the physical course of every interaction to allow an element of mystery and one of imagination for the reader. With imagination comes great responsibility and... apparently judgement.One of my "fans" left a comment branding me as a "slut" and this blog being "proof." Ahh! There's the slut shaming you were talking about, Stephanie. What's humorous to me is the vast assumption made that I sleep with all these misters. Not to mention, the reinforcement of that "standard" that if a guy buys you craft beers at a Minneapolis brewery, brings you flowers before taking you to the Charleston Ballet, or even takes you to Disney World for a first date, you're obligated to sleep with him. Well, spoiler alert: of those three lavish, but real dates I went on, I didn't sleep with any of them.
Now wait a minute.... He took you Disney and you didn't get intimate with him? How was that not a home-run? And THAT'S the prude patronizing I'm talking about. Either way, I'M WRONG. I've lived my whole life not wanting to cause any trouble or be in it. I've been driven by guilt, far-fetched promises, one-sided relationships, and acceptance. I've apologized for things I didn't do and problems I couldn't have begun to ignite. I've been a doormat in floods and used up like a marker; even the brightest marker in the box runs out of ink. So, I guess mostly for myself, but also for the "misters" mentioned here and soon to come (I have at least 8 stories itching to be revealed from the last couple weeks ;) I'm not sorry that I didn't sleep with you even if you expected it or felt like you deserved it. Such a crazy thing for me to type... but, I think I mean it. Yeah, I do :)) Standard recipe? Bring your own icing and write your sweet ending.
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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