The Inner Slut

Carl is arriving this Saturday evening from Australia. We've been talking on the fone, both excited over the prospect of a long term relationship. Or at least, that's what the undertones are all about. We both agree that such a topic would be better discussed face to face.

He says he's been looking at my pics (downloaded from the site) which are very naughty indeed. Well, I've been looking at those he's sent me and I've been very naughty indeed! This is a well hung guy. I like the way he's built, 6'1", long, lean but not thin. I suppose the fact that he's 49 contributes to his being built just right. And he has a great sense of humor.

So back to the issues: Am I ready for a LTR? Should I anticipate the possibility in this case?

As for the first one, the answer will have to be yes. At this point in my life, I want to give marriage (or a domestic partnership, to avoid the institutional connotations of the term as it is widely accepted) and family life a try. I have a feeling that I would make a good partner and a great mom. And what does the Inner Slut have to say about all this?

All she's concerned with is the fact that Carl is open to a committed relationship without its being exclusive. What can I say? Too good to be true? We shall see what we shall see.

There are plenty of options out there for me. This is one of them. And before I reject this particular and very intriguing one, I'd like to see what the fuss is all about.

What about the second issue? It has always been my policy to talk to the guy on the fone before I agree to meet him. It has always worked for me, as I take pride in sensing honesty in a person's voice, in getting a glimpse of a person's character from his voice, the way he speaks, the words he uses, his intonations and all those other small details. I've liked Carl's voice right from the start. I feel warm all over when I hear his voice coming from so far away. I love it when he laughs out loud when I say, Hello, in answer to his call. He laughs, merrily and heartily at that Hello. My instincts tell me that this is the voice of a man who's happy to hear my voice, who feels good when I acknowledge him over the phone, when I laugh at his jokes, when I match his wit with my own. This is the voice of a man who feels good about me and him.

And yet, I am afraid to trust those instincts which have served me well all throughout my life. Why? Because I'm afraid to fall. Consider the case of Terry. Last Saturday, I had quite an uncomfortable evening with Marge, Terry's friend and lover for two years now. Uncomfortable because she's the type of person who's too proud to admit that she needs a special person in her life, be it a partner, a sister, a friend. But this is exactly why she and Terry have stayed lovers all this time. Terry likes to drop in once in a while, and when he does, he likes to be with a lover he can trust, confide in, match wits with -- without having to commit to. And that would be all.

I have no problems with that. To each his own. But I cannot deal with Marge's inability to accept the fact that she, just like anyone else, has this innate, deep-seated need to belong to someone and to call someone her own. And I cannot accept Terry's insensitivity to Marge's self-denial. I'm sure he's aware of the situation. I'm sure he is, and he knows how to use it to his benefit.

During our evening together at some cafe, I tried to tell Marge how Terry has this tiresome habit of trying to get inside my head, making me feel so defensive. Marge's theory was perhaps I was defensive. Of course, I am, I replied.

I don't reveal my true self to just anyone. I'm a very angry and lonely person, easily hurt beyond reason. I don't show this core to many people. Not even my parents have seen this side of me. i don't show it because my first instinct is to strike back. And I'm very good at this, getting back. But it doesn't make me feel good afterwards. I get disappointed with myself, and the more I hate myself for being so inadequate.

When Terry tries to delve inside my head, he's actually trying to force out the real me. I know. I sense it. He likes to have me out in the open, vulnerable, defenseless, under his control. Not that he intentionally plans it that way. I believe it's more according to his Scorpio nature. I should know, and I believe I'm more intentionally manipulative than he is. The strange thing is, I want to come out. I want to show that very angry, very lonely person to him. But I hesitate, because he keeps dropping me.

I tell him a hurt I nurse deep inside, and he says most people hurt that way, too. I tell him about a dream I treasure, and he says most people dream of that, too. I'm just a statistic, given with a slap in the face. In other words, he doesn't make me feel special.

Is it because he's not used to nurturing another person dear to him? So he doesn't know how to deal with someone who needs comforting? It's being selfish. But most probably it's being afraid. Marge and Terry, they're both afraid. More afraid than I am. They don't know how to share the self with another. I feel no passion in Terry's lovemaking, and the arrogance of Marge's self-deluded pride leaves me cold. They are both arrogant in their fear that should they open the self to another, that other will grow needy and dependent on them. Only with the very immature does this happen. And only those who have never learned to respect the other can fear this. In the equation of Troisfontaine, Terry is in an I-It relationship, he being the I, and the other, the It.

I can't imagine a life like that. Always holding back for fear of being hurt and rejected. It was that smile that gave the fear away, that small smile on Terry's face that for a fleeting moment appeared. It was a warm smile, a very sincere smile, that showed the soft, warm, caring side of him, and for a moment, he was beautiful. But it was all too suddenly hidden behind the gruff, cold exterior of a world-weary traveler, and he was ugly agan. Yes, he'd seen it all, folks, and me, I'm just a statistic.

Should I anticipate love and commitment with Carl? Most definitely. I should and will not be afraid. A man who makes me feel warm all over, erotic, lovely and desirable, the most special of women, is not one to be ignored. They are too rare. However, should I be mistaken, should my instincts fail me this time, then I shall cry my eyes out, feel depressed for a few days, watch numerous cds on end, reread all my favorite books, and move on.

C'est la vie.