Everything changed when my cat Max died twelve days ago. And I mean aside from the normal grief of losing your pet.
Some things I knew beforehand. Like the fact that my heart would lose its first line of defense. You don’t get emotionally caught up in men or love drama if you have two fur babies to take care of.
Or one, as it had been just the two of us since 2015, when Willem my other cat had passed away. I was well aware that the moment Max would die I would need to get something else to occupy myself with, if I didn’t want to start obsessing over Mr.Big, didn’t want to disrupt the delicate balance in our mistress/ lover relationship.
And I did find someone else.
I fell in love with Kylo Ren, the character from Star Wars. And with Adam Driver the actor. The last weeks when Max was still alive, I promised myself that if I would lose him, I would buy myself a little Kylo Ren doll to cuddle with. To get at least some substitute for not having a fur baby around. I did buy that.
I even sleep with Kylo Ren the same way I did with Max; we spoon. And Kylo Ren talks when you push his tummy and he never does that during the night. So I know that I treat him just as carefully, as I did with Max.
I have an idol Adam Driver to focus all the extra energy on, that became available from not being a cat mother anymore. And I have the little Kylo Ren doll to cuddle with. This part of the plan had been pretty well thought through.
Then there was the part that I knew beforehand I had no control over; how I would respond physically, when being made love to. I understood that my lover Mr.Big would be the one to encounter grief, the loss of Max, it its most physical form. And I discussed this with him over the phone. That I looked forward to seeing him, to the sex, because I would now have my full attention making love.
Not leaving twenty percent at home, because I knew I had to get back, and I realized Max would have liked me to stay and never leave in the first place. With Max gone I was going to be fully aware during sex, and I did look forward to that.
But that he, Mr.Big was also the only one who would be so intimate with me that any grief held in my body would be released with him. Probably not even in one session, but more in a series. Or every first time. The things that I expected to be reasonably neutral were kissing, hugging and giving him a blow job. But I had no idea what my body’s response would be to getting oral, or intercourse normal or back.
Those were things I could still get emotional over, even when nothing dramatic had happened.
Even though Max the cat had absolutely nothing to do with my sex life, I expected that would be where grief would find its way out. And in a way none of us would be able to control.
The planned part of grieving was covered.
Which next to Adam Driver and the doll, also involved countless rituals and daily habits here at home to honor the spirits of Max and Willem.
And the unplanned part of my body storing grief, and how it would come out, had been discussed with Mr.Big.
And until yesterday, this seemed like all there was to it. That I was covered. I felt good too. Very good. Until today. Because a date I had scheduled fell through, and today is Wednesday – my only night off from teaching. So that meant I didn’t have other social interactions. And since I got behind on my work, wanted to do two hours of yoga, and I wanted to just relax a bit around the house, I didn’t plan for anything new. I didn’t try to replace the date for another social event. I just stayed home.
My first whole day of being home and not seeing anybody since Max died.
And boy, did that kick in.
I never felt lonely, probably because I had Max. I never understood people who didn’t like being alone, until I realized today I had never been alone; Max had been with me.
So now I know that days all alone by myself do not have the same charm as being alone with Max. I don’t like this. Max was the difference between being alone (with a cat) and being lonely.
The other change was my body, my sexuality.
Everything I thought I knew about my sexual orientation, started to shift. I masturbated today. This is something I have been doing more of since Max died. My libido has gone up. Not the first two days, when I still had his body here at home. Before the funeral.
I was appalled at the idea of masturbating when “he” was still here.
But after the funeral, burying him in my sister’s garden in Willem’s grave and I had a small ceremony with my mother, sister and a friend, afterwards I felt I was given a new life. A new home. A new relationship with my body.
I used to skip masturbation when he was with me in the bed, and I didn’t want to keep him waiting before we could cuddle. But it was more than just the masturbating today. I could feel a longing. For Adam Driver, Kylo Ren, Mr.Big. It was very specific.
“You know I can take whatever I want” is a line from Kylo Ren in The Force Awakening. And whenever I read it today, on Twitter – or just thought of it – it was as if all the sex Mr.Big and I didn’t have the past three years was poured over me.
All the fantasies we didn’t get around to. Yet.
Entire days of staying together in bed, days we never had.
But also all the things we did do, once or twice or a couple of times – but not enough.
All those things suddenly came back to haunt me. Now that I did have time for them. Now that I no longer had to stay at home and keep an eye out for Max.
And it didn’t stop there.
Maybe it was because I knew Mr.Big would always stay unavailable, unless something dramatic happened in his family (like a divorce, even that was something I didn’t wish for him) but all of a sudden being Mr.Big’s secret mistress was no longer enough.
For years I considered myself monogamous;
it enhances my pleasure to only have one partner.
I considered myself a mistress;
it enhances my pleasure to be in a secret relationship.
I considered myself a compersionist;
I like him having other women. One being the minimum.
All those things, all those aspects of my sexuality that had taken me years to figure out, it all started to change. I could feel a longing to be held, played with, devoted to. I wanted a real relationship, and my desire for secrets was gone. I wanted to be chosen. I became possessive and jealous.
And horny and demanding.
I was everything I never was, and of course our current relationship did not back this up. The fact that it had been over a month since we last had sex was illustrative of that.
I just reread my notes from our last date. There were two conversations there, that I had not written about yet. One was that it hurt, when he fucked me. I had just had my period and the outside is always more sensitive. When we were talking about this, afterwards, he said he had not felt it. That he usually does feel it, on the inside. When it’s too tight or painful in any way.
That aroused me, the thought that he felt things like that.
Still does.
The other was a conversation about our strange relationship, a mistress with her lover. And that it’s so equal because I m so in love with him. I have not thought about any other man, not even Adam Driver, when masturbating. Mr.Big is my sex life and this all stems from me being one hundred percent in love and not desiring anybody else.
On his part, things are of course more complicated. Because he is married so it seems like he is not as involved as I am. But that’s not how I saw it. I said to Mr.Big;
“It’s so equal. I give you my heart. But you give me your life. You could lose everything. Your marriage, your family, your reputation. You risk it all to be with me. And I risk you breaking my heart. You hold my heart in your hand. I hold your life in mine.”
It was perfect, and I felt blessed.
Until today.
Now I feel lonely and like there really is that big hole inside of me, that needs more sex, more love, more intimacy, more company. It needs everything I always wanted, plus everything I never wanted. And then more. More.
More.
<3LSH
An Unexamined Life is Not Worth Living
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This is the Kylo Ren scene where he says: You know I can take whatever I want.
Christmas 2017 I started my Hero’s Journey; a year long challenge of doing one or two hours of yoga a day.