By the time I was 26, I was deep into my second long term relationship, and my sexuality was barely alive. I was living in Australia, in what I would call a post-Victorian setting. No one was supposed to have sex especially not teenagers. They were allowed to drive, unsurprisingly usually like maniacs, and on Monday the news started with all the parties at parent’s places that had escalated. So they seemed to be inventive enough to find ways to let all that bottled up energy out. The relationship with my partner was great, but he wasn’t doing well. Sex was high on our least likely things to happen list.
And believe it or not, but that’s pretty much how it stayed for another nine years. Who wants to leave a partner under those circumstances right? And especially since I felt responsible for burdening our sex life with our phobia from day 1. I gave it a rocky start, mentally, although aside from that the first 6 months had been awesome and I loved him very much. I was convinced that once he started feeling better, we could figure out the sex thing again.
Ultimately I broke up with him. Saying I wanted to fall in love again. Have sex for the first time again. This was the truth, but still, I felt like we could have made it work, if he had gotten himself together. This was entirely unfair. Not just to make a partner responsible for your sex life (one of the many reasons I don’t believe in monogamy as an agreement) but also because I realize now that falling in love, and having first time sex, is my natural sexual orientation. That’s what I live for. Just like I still loved him because those first six months had been so much fun.
To trick myself, and him, into thinking that if we (as a couple) could ever come up with a relationship that was going to satisfy my need for lovers, new experiences and single life excitement? That was cruel. It was unintentional, I didn’t have that kind of clarity back then, but nevertheless. I never wanted a relationship. The reason we had one was because of the phobia and not being able to deal with being single.
So even though I didn’t fully understand the reasons we had failed, I did quit eventually.
I can’t say I “left” because we stayed together for another two years, because that was housing wise the best solution. It was really nice, living together as the brother and sister we had become ever since our Australia days. We even kept sharing the same bed, for the first year anyway. Those two years were the icing on the cake for me, because now I didn’t have to worry about “fixing” him, and was free to start meeting new men and go for that ideal of falling in love again, and the excitement of first time sex.
But before I went there I first had to unlock the door to the aids phobia closet. And let the demons out.
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
Although I initially intended to write more, Episode 3 ended up being the final episode to sharing my personal story. I do have more White Tigress Notes, and together they make a nice collage of what I call my explorative work; an investigation of the boundaries of sexual freedom, and the (social) practicalities of becoming a White Tigress.
note from LS Harteveld;
I’m publishing my books The Wait Worth 8 and for the final leap, I m going ALL IN. So I won’t be writing new material, for two to three weeks. In the meantime I will repost these White Tigress Notes – which were created at Facebook earlier this year.
My White Tigress teachings are based on a book by Hsi Lai and my personal journey.
You can like the White Tigress page on Facebook, or sign up for my new official White Tigress blog at; White Tigress Lair
De Witte Tijgerin – gids voor solitaire vrouwen die een geweldig seksleven willen en plenty energie