I’m a bottom and my man is a top. But lately he has been hinting that he wants to experiment in the bedroom. He talks about how he’s never bottomed before but he’s super curious. I’m nervous. I’m worried if I don’t give, in he may want to to try this with some one else.
Dear Bedroom Bottom,
In my sessions, I dance like a diva on a dime while my legs are intertwined. Maybe I’m just a selfish lover racing to be on the bottom like there is some fucking award. We both know what our roles are. We both know what we signed up for. So why was he surprised when I wasn’t in the mood to penetrate him when he woke me up at 1am. And I had to be at work in the morning.
Last night, he was drunk again. He rejected me sexually because I ignored him, calling me selfish.
“You don’t have to worry about this tonight?”
He sipped my wine and rolled over.
“Don’t drink all my wine.”
That was the best I could muster. Yeah I was petty and unapologetic. 20 minutes later, he rolled over again, and he slid himself in. He bite my neck and burned my ears with his words. “Why are you doing this to me? You know you wanna fuck.”
“My ex only wanted me to let him fuck. He only rode me once. He wanted me to be submissive. Now I’m dealing with the opposite.”
How we perform in relationships has to come from somewhere. We cling to the ideals from the successful relationships on the surface, from celebrity’s and tv characters.
“I just love how pretty your dick is. He likes me. What kind of sex columnist are you?”
Hmm, that was a bit much. As he plowed away, his thoughts were still embedded in my mind. He fucked my mind but not in the good way.
I can be stubborn and so can he. But that doesn’t mean that we are unhappy. Don’t think happiness can be defined in absolute terms. We were some thing a bit more complicated.
That life in bed, behind the scenes like an audience patiently waiting behind the curtain for the show to start, dressed in anxiety, frustration, and passion. Our fate sealed between my thighs. New highs felt like low blows. Was I just a hole? Surely over 30, I must feel whole. Why did that motherfucker have so much power?
Or was it power in disguise? Maybe I was the one in charge? They say the one with least interest has the most power in the relationship. But I’m not so sure about that. I don’t know if relationships can be reduced to politics — to who’s in power or not. And aren’t we deeper and freer than that?
My sexual moods fluctuated, he knocked on my versatile door at the wrong time. Sometimes, you need to know when to knock. I guess if he never did, we would never know. What if I’m stuck in a caricature of heterosexual relationship dynamic where one is the man, while the other is the woman. Or was there a deeper reason?
I can’t tell you at this moment. I simply don’t know, but I’m willing to explore. How we perform in relationships has to come from somewhere. We cling to the ideals from the successful relationships on the surface, from celebrity’s and tv characters.
I used to want a relationship like Noah and Wade from Noah’s Arc. It was pure fantasy. Masculine and feminine intertwine like they lived in Beyoncé’s belly. This yang to the yang seem to fit like a glove turned inside out. On the surface it represents one form, and something entirely different underneath.
The best relationship I have is the one I have now. It’s steep in reality and not reality tv. And sometimes I give in and top for him. And I realize I’m actually not that bad. I actually quite good. Give it a try.
Enjoy your life responsibly.
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