Ramblings of a Cathy
Ad 2:
2020-08-01 14:14:02 (UTC)


I navigate the world feeling like I'm unstoppable - like I'm not black, not a woman, not ugly, - and I'm entitled to whatever I want. Does that make me a narcissist?
But in my mind, I'm wracked with racing thoughts of doubt, episodic memories of times I've proven to myself how stupid I am, and reminders about how less-than-mediocre I am.
It's an interesting way for anxiety to manifest.
Because of this I never really made real decisions. I let the people around me kind of dictate the boundaries of how things were going to go, and then I'd thrive off of those standards. So I come off as a push-over, or a people pleaser, or whatever.
But in SEX, that's not the case. I have full control over a lot in sex. Which is why I thought, for a long time, that I had a sex addiction. LOL! But, it turns out, you can't be addicted to sex... it's too vital to life to be "addicted to sex", according to people smarter than me. (Atleast I hope?). So my old diary entries were about my experimentation with sex. Ways I've submitted to someone on purpose, ways I've dominated them, ways I've had my touches and behaviors validated. And it didn't help that the men I've enraptured were also growing from my musings... it helps to have a psychology degree when you're courting. People want to feel understood and accepted completely, and I'm good at that. So these interactions with men that have loved me (or at least men who have projected something nice off of my way with them) have always been meaningful to me.
So not only do I enjoy having sex, but I also like to write about it. :]
Being open sexually in my relationship with my husband has almost felt like something very necessary for me... It's always been stifling to live up to expectations for me. My mother and father had a billion expectations for me, without really knowing me as a person - or at least what I wanted to myself - so the thought of not being able to pursue other connections was suffocating. Steven and I drifted onto it like a leaf that falls from a high tree, dancing side to side, and landing lightly on the edge of a little rain water droplet on the ground.
Little hints of pillow talk, one drive down to Orlando discussing the philosophy of open marriages, mutual google searches about the lifestyle, and finally us walking hand in hand into a sex club. Now we're open.