Four years seem like a long time…

I’ve been doing things lately. Different things. Some of them exciting or intense, like going out into the mountains in bad weather or starting an affair with a married woman in spite of knowing better; but also more mundane things like catching up on paperwork, reading books and blogs, as well as writing back to old friends.

I had decided to only have friendships with married women because of all the inherent complications that usually ensue if you go further. Sarah has been married for nine years and we met four years ago in work related activities. Hers husband is a jerk and I am in all probability an even bigger jerk, it made sense. We knew something was happening back then but nothing happened in the end since we were very much aware of the inappropriateness of it all. We were both also workaholics that took pride in sleep deprivation and skipping meals. It is also true that back then I was madly in love with Helena and was preparing the ill fated expedition to Guyana, which of course made me solidly faithful to her. Sarah is romantic in an intense and almost existential way, explaining attitudes and actions through what she feels to be love; which is why she found my perceived renouncement to job, predictable income and prestige to go after Helena to be such an admirable action.  I no longer believe in love as a driving force in my life.

Anyhow, while coming out of The Blueberries cafe last week we ran into each other. A coffee appointment was made for a day later. She’s working independently now. A week later I asked her to skip her morning obligations and go moto-riding with me to the countryside. She accepted last minute and we had a good time together. We then rode very fast to get back into the city for her to make it in time to a lunch appointment. She liked that. She texted a week later and asked what I was doing and I answered, “Waiting for you to come over.”  I gave her my address. She came by and I answered the door in a T-shirt and white judo-gi pants.  She understood we weren’t going out and we both stood there looking at each other for a long minute. I pushed her against the wall and kissed her. That’s how that got started. All along I knew it would be trouble but I feel no remorse, four years of wanting someone is a long time. She’s a very fragile woman, strong and delicate; I can feel the weight of her emotions surrounding me when we make love, I can feel them when she tightly closes her arms around my back, as if she was afraid of being swept away by them.

Los caminos de la vida / The roads of life

A 40 year-old man sits at the computer reading a letter from Helena, listening to an old song that’s not so old and suddenly he feels something odd, fragile and overwhelming rising inside him, the need to cry.   He stifles this feeling. Squints. Gets a hold. Good song, he thinks.

“The roads of life are not what I expected, not what I believed, not what I had imagined.  The roads of life are hard to tread, are are hard to walk, and I can’t find a way out”.

This Song.

Why this song?

Because her voice is impossibly intense. Because she seems mad, crazy, passionate and dangerous, because she sounds like she’ll tear me to pieces, because I know the more she’d love me the more she’d hurt me.  Because I want to hurt and be hurt, because I’ve seen and heard too much and only feel alive when emotions are too intense and strong to bear.  Because I know jealousy can be sick and insane, because I looked into her eyes when she aimed and took the shot. I remember, really I do, the way the bullet felt, the way it tore something inside me and how the blood was suddenly all over everything and me thinking that it didn’t hurt as much as I had thought it would, and I remember her crying and trying to aim at me again to take another shot. I smiled and just took the gun away, gently, softly, I hugged her then and the door crashed and the police hit me hard, too hard and I was suddenly of my feet and then on the ground.  I don’t think he even saw the gun in my hand until I was on the floor.  I wasn’t fighting back but I was getting hit, held down, getting hit and thinking how that morning I had vacuumed the carpet as my head was now being crushed into it, and I felt I loved her because this was life, on the brink of death, and I loved for having had the guts to pull the trigger on me even if it had been for the wrong reason.  The parameds rushed in, turned me over, started cutting away my shirt, A- ok, B-ok, C- not ok, putting the collar on me, looking into my eyes, asking questions, getting my vitals, I loved them, I loved their detached competence, they knew I wasn’t going to die, I felt sad, better men than me were dying lonely deaths somewhere, I kept trying to smile, they wouldn’t let me get up.     The drama, the waste and all the while I admired and loved her more for pulling that trigger.

Breve Carta a Helena (Brief letter to Helena)

Te cuento que el asunto con Emily esta interesante… desde un punto de vista “humano” o fraternal, si prefieres; es una persona inteligente, aceptablemente alegre, más que límite creo que saludablemente histriónica, muy poco narcisa y en general amena, además de un tanto aburrida y predecible, es decir, una persona con quien cohabitar en un espacio, no solamente no implica conflicto, si no que tampoco nada que pueda considerarse emocionante. Ensucia poco, lo que utiliza lo lava, no hace tiradero y mantiene sus cosas dentro de su habitación, no madruga pero no se queda en la cama una vez que despierta; entra y sale del depto sin meter ruido. Como toda mujer tiene su genio pero este es de lo más llevadero, le gusta la naturaleza, ir trekking y actividades que sean “exciting but safe”… es casi como si fuese un chavo… y, triste o alegremente, compruebo que es desabrida, una maruchan sin el sobrecito de condimento. Increíble pero cierto: no me inspira nada que pueda ser considerado propiamente sexual. A pesar de ser una “activista radical” no hay pasión de mujer, y tal vez, es por eso que necesita una causa.

Así que pienso…. y, ¿si le intento mover la emoción? ¿habrá algún potencial injundioso y pasional en algún lugar? ¿será lesbiana en proceso de descubrimiento? Pero, es posible que nunca encuentre estás respuestas porqué ni siquiera me mueve lo suficiente como para ahondar y buscar.

Running all the way to the Seawall

I still remember getting up early in the morning before sunrise to go out running.   I’d open my eyes without the need for an alarm, look at the ceiling in the dark, hear the air conditioner hum, hear her breathing softly next to me.  I’d get up from bed, careful not to rouse her, slowly walk across to the door and turn the knob counting her breaths, turn the knob and walk outside onto the hall, then closing the door slowly and feeling safe there in the darkness.  I would go down the stairs and into the hall, where I’d always leave my running shoes and shorts the night before, to get dressed before I made it out on the street.   I’d run for an hour or more, I’d run all the way to the seawall and back,   I’d run and not want to come back until I knew she’d be leaving for work. I wanted to find a way to run out of that relationship.  If I didn’t start the day with her the evenings were bearable.  Then, one morning, just as I was about to make it to the hall, I heard her get up and say, “Wait. I’m coming with you”.

Velocidad de Progresión.

Three months is an impossible amount of time to wait. If I was seeing a girl 4 times a week for 12 weeks, and for some reason progressing into sex didn’t feel right it would probably mean that it’s not going to happen, it could be that I’ve at last found my long lost sister who was abducted by roaming gypsies at birth, but love-of-my-life-until-death-do-us-part material, she is not . As matter of fact, yes, it would feel awkward, and if I feel we could be unto something but sex feels uncanny, I would start conjuring up all kinds of probable psychopathology going on in the background.

Ok. Switching into brother/dude-friend- mode. Date #6 or W2 does sound like a safe amount of time to wait but in a way it’s got to do more with the guy’s attitude. What and how he does it. How much time, energy and money he invests in it (i.e. getting you into bed). I’ve really given up on trying to guess at how you know you’ve got a keeper but I do know my attitude as a guy is different when I see some kind of relationship potential in it, as a matter of fact, I don’t even expect to “land a try”” on the first dates, I want her to see who I am in a more complex way before the sudden intimacy sex brings about, and yeah, I want to see who she is before I’m sex crazed and trying to get her clothes off every time we’re alone.

But. But, but, but, there’s another dimensionality that makes it more complex, it’s not only “when” but also “what” you do on those first trysts. There’s things I’ll try to get away with on some women that I’d never even consider with another, and it all depends on where I see it going. As matter of fact, there was this one girl with whom we were being very romantic/conventional through out and carrying on well enough until about six months into it we accidentally discovered a level of kinkiness/intensity we had been both trying to hold back thinking it was inappropriate and might scare the other away.

Lastly, no need to protect the fragile male ego, men who use their insecurity to get a grappling hook on you have mother issues they should figure out in therapy, sooner or later you just learn to deal with rejection, it’s just part of it.


On Dating.

I think both views are correct. It is not, I believe, a dichotomic issue. It’s not only up to every person to do what they feel is right, but to learn and trust her feelings through all the advise or opinions put forth. To make it even more interesting or distressing, one can change with experience and different types of dating and relationships develop in your life. I think you can stop seeing someone when it stops being “fun” but I’ve also found out that that’s when emotional meaningfulness comes forth and starts to grow, it is not the good times that make lasting bonds, it’s the difficult and sad times that consolidate our lives with that of others.

You can date to have fun, gain experience or try to know a person as profoundly as possible to finally just move on, or you can be on standby until whoever meets your expectations comes along, either way, it’s going to take a lot of effort to make things work once the initial jitters are over. Ultimately it’s one’s own capacity to love, live, forgive and contribute in creating a mutual life that will make the difference.

So, I would agree with you, Joan, there are people with whom it’s fun to date, others with whom you feel there could be more of a future (whatever that means to each of us) and others with whom it’s just about the sex and intensity. At the same time though, I agree with M. Kundera when he states that our lives are like musical scores, the more you advance on your own, the harder it will be to combine it harmoniously with that of another person.

At this point in my life I feel grateful towards all the women with whom my path has crossed, many of them have made me a better person and some of them stood by me even after I hurt them, teaching me things I never imagined about what it means to love.


Sobre tríos.

Leí esta entrada y me quede pensando.


Respondiendo a lo que Joan se pregunta según mis términos y experiencias.     Si, creo que una persona, independientemente de si es mujer u hombre, debería probar un trío alguna vez, si es que quiere, claro.

Hay personas que no lo quieren hacer, que no les llama la atención, y aun si tuviesen la oportunidad no lo harían; y hay otras personas que lo quieren hacer, pero nunca se les presenta la oportunidad.   Debe ser un problema cuando hay una pareja en la que uno de ellos lo quiere probar pero la otra persona no.

Mi experiencia con este tema no es de las más amplias pero hay un par de experiencias y situaciones que tienen que ver con el tema.  De adolescente, me llamaba mucho la atención y sentía curiosidad por saber cómo se sentiría hacerlo con dos mujeres a la vez, las historias leídas y la pornografía de distinta intensidad me llevaban a aproximaciones de lo que sería, un mundo en el que toda mujer atractiva es bisexual en potencia y que una vez que ve a otra mujer desnuda no puede resistir el impulso de besarla y acariciarla, y por supuesto, en dichas circunstancias nada les gustaba más que un adolescente casual como yo se acercara a ellas y se uniera al enredo de piernas, brazos y labios para luego terminar ambas entregándose a mi o haciéndome sexo oral simultáneo.   No había malicia o complicaciones en la pornografía de mi adolescencia.

Luego, cuando tenia 19 años ocurrió algo que técnicamente no cumple los criterios de un trío pero se le parece, fue una especie de cuarteto en el que embriagándonos con un amigo y dos amigas surgió el tema del sexo. Decidimos hacer una competencia en la cual se vería cual de ellas lograba hacer que terminásemos antes.   La mía iba con desventaja porqué yo nunca término rápido y encima estaba con tragos.  Era una sala de familia, la casa de una de ellas, en la sala, no recuerdo donde es que los padres habían viajado, pero ambas, entre risa y comentarios, comenzaron.  Estábamos sentados  en sofás opuestos, yo tenia las botas sobre la mesa de café del centro, y ella hacia lo suyo hasta que escuchamos que su amiga hacia un sonido raro, raro, raro, apoyaba ambas manos sobre las rodillas de mi amigo y vomitaba sobre el.  La verdad es que estábamos demasiado borrachos.  Nos pusimos a reír y allí quedó esa competencia.   Después en la noche tuve sexo primero con una y luego con su amiga mientras mi amigo, irremediablemente borracho, dormía junto a ella en la cama.  Paso y ya.

Luego, cuando tenía 20 años estuve con dos amigas de la facultad. O bueno, una era de la Facultad y había cambiado de carrera, los tres borrachos, decidimos irnos a dormir.  Empecé con una y la otra nos decía cosas como que éramos unos degenerados, y que ya nos pongamos a dormir, íbamos desvistiéndonos, y cuando íbamos a la mitad la comenzamos a desvestir a ella, yo la besaba y ella le quitaba la ropa.  Quedamos los tres desnudos, no recuerdo todo muy bien, pero primero lo hacia con una y luego con la otra, y después de nuevo con la primera, turnándolas. Esa fue la única vez que ocurrió aunque volví a estar con  cada una por separado varias veces.

Tiempo después, ya teniendo tres o más años de relación con Erika, antes de casarnos, las cosas se habían vuelto repetitivas y monótonas.   No recuerdo bien como pero surgió la idea de tener un algo parecido a un trío HMH, en el cual sería ella quien sostendría relaciones con otro hombre y yo observaría.  Incluso solíamos tener largas conversaciones en las que planeábamos  donde, como y con quien lo haríamos pero nunca llegamos a concretar ninguno de los planes a pesar de algunos intentos.   En retrospectiva, creo que yo lo quería más que ella.

Más tiempo pasó, mucho más, ya me había divorciado de Erika, y con ninguna de las parejas que tuve después surgió el tema hasta que apareció  Helena. Lo chistoso es que me enteré que ella tenia la fantasía de  hacerlo con dos hombres al mismo tiempo, hacerlo todo, hasta que llegado el momento, ambos la penetrasen, uno por delante y el otro por detrás.  La famosa penetración doble de las películas y relatos de juventud.  Creo que sí lo hubiese sabido antes de que termináramos la relación y nos distanciáramos, lo hubiese hecho, incluso en este momento se me prende algo de solo pensarlo.

Así que sí, creo que es algo que todos quienes sienten interés o curiosidad por aquello debiesen probar.  En mi caso, independientemente de quien sea la mujer, creo que sería mejor con un conocido pero no un amigo.  Si es MMH, creo que sería mejor si hay algo entre ellas y se entienden, aunque no se si es la edad, el interés que me genera no es el mismo de antes, me gusta lo mío y como lo hago y creo que los tríos dispersan la intensidad.