Hi, Journal!
Okay, whoosh, deep breath. I can do this.
So ... we were making love just now, like, really making love just with touching and talking, not sex at all ... or, maybe just a little bit, since he did get me off touching my coochie at one point ... but it wasn't more than just that one bit and he didn't even have his clothes off and ... ugh, I am so totally failing here.
I haven't even said what I'm trying to do that I'm failing at!
Oh, great, and now Elle is looking over my shoulder and saying I'm supposed to have a "thesis statement" if I'm really trying to seriously write something, which is what I'm trying to do, so I guess I have to come up with one, and ... what? Oh. Now Claire is telling me she doesn't usually work up a thesis statement first so I shouldn't worry about it, which, I mean, I appreciate, and maybe feel a little better about my first couple of paragraphs, but also now I don't have a next thing to do like I thought I did when I was going to figure out a thesis statement, and Sasha, don't you dare even come over here! I'm suffering from too much advice already, even if it's good advice, and probably your advice would be good too, but ...
I need to do this myself.
Hey! Wow, that's my thesis statement!
I need to do this myself. I need to write something bigger than I usually write. And I don't mean just longer, because there's a couple of entries here that I've written a little more in than my usual couple sentence long ones. I need to write something that means more. Something special and thoughtful.
Okay, I'm going to go back and say why now. Um ... where was I? Right -- making love. That's what we were doing, me and the bf, and when you do it, you have to do it with your eyes and your minds and spirits and hearts, not just your good-feeling naughty parts. I'm not trying to say we don't usually use those parts when we're making love, because almost always we do, but this time it was mostly eyes and hands and words and like, him smelling me and saying how good I always smell and telling me how beautiful I am and how much I amaze him, and ...
Whenever that happens, I almost always say something dumb about myself. About not being as smart as Claire usually, or as whole of a person. (No offense to Elle or Sasha here, but everybody knows Claire is the one to measure up to in our house, even Elle, even if she wouldn't admit it.) I don't know why I act that way and think I'm not as special or, you know, well-rounded. Maybe it's because the well-rounded part is true and I know it's true, since I don't know as much and there's so many things in the world I don't understand and Claire is So Wise. She really is.
And they've had elevenish years together now and I know she means the world to him and I know she deserves to mean that much to him, and I guess I feel like there would be something wrong with trying to mean that much to him. Like it would have to make her mean less to him, which I would never ever want to do because I love her so much.
Anyway, whatever reason was going on in my head, that's the thing I was doing: saying I was less. Less smart and less wise and less spirit beautiful even if I know I'm probably about the same amount of pretty as Claire. And I don't mean I was making myself feel bad, because that wasn't it at all. I felt SO GOOD there, with him touching me and his breath on my cheek and my neck and my chest when he kissed all those places and talked in my ear and stuff. But I was saying I knew I was less than Claire and that I was okay with it. Like, I've read Claire's book that she started and even if she didn't get all the way through it or maybe even all that far in it, I could never do that. I can't even string more than a couple sentences together in these blog posts, and they're all just stupid dumb stuff that pops into my head and I let out through my fingers on the keyboard.
So we kept talking and touching and it was a really wonderful, made-of-love conversation and peaceful and accepting even though we were disagreeing about whether it was okay for me to think about myself that way, and what he was trying really hard to get through to me was, having less or more of one thing doesn't really matter and usually isn't even true. Like, mostly, people are just different about those things, not one of them more and one of them less. He did pretty good at trying to say Claire isn't really smarter than me, just smart in a different way, but then I kind of topped that by saying we all know Claire is the best person in the house, which he had to agree with because honestly, Claire is about the best person in the whole world as far as I'm concerned and I know as far as he's concerned too.
By then I was feeling pretty good about making some good points in our disagreement and of course remember we were touching each other this whole time and he would break in now and then to say how perfect and smooth and cool my skin was, so everything was going fantastic, but you know, he's not very good at letting things go when he's trying to convince somebody of something, and he said, "The thing is, one of the reasons Claire is better than me is that she doesn't get mad the way I do. She doesn't yell at the computer when it does something stupid or say curse words about whoever wrote the software, and she doesn't ever make a fist and just want to throw the damn thing across the room." Which, of course I had to agree that she doesn't do that and that sometimes he does, but I also know he wouldn't actually throw it across the room and he certainly wouldn't make a fist and hurt somebody with it. And he said, "Right, because I'm more or less a good person. But it makes Claire a better person that she doesn't get mad that way even a little. But she does get mad at things sometimes. And you don't." Well I tried to disagree with that and say I do get upset at stuff, but he just pointed out that upset isn't mad. "You get frustrated at things every once in a while. Or sad when you hear or read about something ugly that happened. But there's not any real anger anywhere in your heart. The angriest you ever get is when you're arguing with Sash about something the two of you are blogging about. And none of that anger is even really directed at her -- you're just expressing frustration that the two of you aren't agreeing."
This part is important. He said, "Everyone in this house is kind. Amazingly kind, really. And you have the kindest heart out of all of us."
Then there was more talking and touching and staring into each other's eyes and kissing and that one part where he put his hand down between my legs followed by even more talking and glowing at each other. But right at the end before we had to tear ourselves away from each other because, you know, it's a household and there are things that have to get done, right before then, he said I needed to write a long blog post and show myself I could do it and have something to say with it and say a lot about whatever the something was.
Which I guess is what I just did here.
Whew!
It's sort of a big deal that I could do this, I guess, Journal. And I think ... I can admit something now that I always pretend isn't true, which is that I'm a big deal too.
I'm super-incredibly important to four other people.
Anyway, I guess that's what really being made love to the right way can do for you. It makes you know you're a big deal.
Dang, I don't even know how to end a blog post that's this long. "The End"?
I guess since it's late, I'll say, "Sweet dreams, Journal!"
(And also anybody else who ever reads this!)
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