Craving Intimacy

Lovers at the Grand Canal, Versailles, France

Image by Grufnik via Flickr

I am craving intimacy. I don’t mean just sexual contact. I don’t mean fucking. I don’t mean a “wham bam thank you ma’am”, get your shit, and leave after you cum. I’ve been there, done that, and got a t-shirt two sizes too small. I want to feel close to someone. I want pillow talk….something I’ve never had before. I want to feel safe in someone’s arms and not fear that their thoughts are with someone or somewhere else.

I’ve lay next to someone and felt uncomfortable. Although I was ecstatic that he was there, a part of me longed for him to hold me, if not only for a few seconds. I longed for him to roll over and whisper something, anything in my ear. I longed for an accidental bump  in the middle of the night. Why didn’t I act on my need to feel close to him? I knew he didn’t want that form of intimacy. I did not want to invade his space. Invading his space would mean breaking my heart and I was already in pieces.

Another encounter (with a different person, of course) comes to mind. I only saw him a few times a year. He claimed he “worked out of town”.  I was young, foolish, and thought that I hit the jackpot because he was wealthy. So I tolerated stuff that I shouldn’t have. We would have very rough sexual encounters. It was part of my sexuality that I did not know that I enjoyed. But after the encounters, his abrasiveness would continue. When he held me, it wasn’t out of the need of intimacy or closeness. It was control. He wrapped his legs around me and held me in a restrictive way, as if he was preventing me from escaping.

I look at these encounters among others and wonder why I settled for less. Was I in need of intimacy so badly that I settled for stripped and counterfeit versions of it? Am I the type of person that does not get to be held lovingly? Do I not deserve an “I love you” when I rise or fall asleep? Do I not deserve to be touched as if my body was made of silk? I remember a friend told me a few years ago that I deserved pillow talk and to held at night (like she does). I remember being so angry when she said that. I felt as if she was bragging. Later that night, I cried. My tears knew she was right.

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