Cuddle Buddy

On My Bed

On My Bed

A few nights ago, I was involved with a lengthy conversation with an old guy friend of mine which covered a variety of topics, from coffee to jazz to kung fu.  Somewhere in there, I divulged that about a quarter of my sexual fantasies aren’t really sexual at all, but about– I wince typing this, it sounds so dumb– but cuddling.  Being in a fluffy bed with some big beefy dude I care for, snuggled up, and maybe even sleeping.  Hawt.

He was clearly amused at this freakish proclivity of mine, but refrained from hassling me about it overly much.  But I was left thinking about it– why on Earth do I imagine this so frequently?  What does this say about me?  And why, in my mind, am I slotting it into the ‘sexual fantasy’ category?  The truth is, I don’t get it either.

I mean, let’s face it, I’m not hitting my bunk with a centerfold of a Care Bear pile up; it’s not like its a fetish. But the regularity I replay this imagery does make me think that it certainly has some sort of meaning, or reflects some sort of deeper need…..

*****

Today’s activities contained about six hours of mindless sanding and painting, so I had a good deal of time to ponder it.  I don’t know how I *feel* yet about my conclusions, but I think I’ve managed to figure out a little nugget of myself, and that will help eventually, in some way.  It always does sooner or later.

My thoughts are this– I have long ago concluded that my main issue with men, romantic relationships, and sex comes down to trust.  And without going into that again, let’s just say that I have a very firm idea where that trust issue stems from, and it’s not something I can change.  What I *can* do is attempt to change the way I handle it, the way it handles me, and whether or not I let it be an issue in future relationships.

Subconsciously, in an attempt to create in my mind the ability to have faith in a guy and truly love him (whomever he may be at this time), I have started imagining myself– literally– sleeping with them.  Not sex, just… sleep.  It’s not ugly middle of the night-sprawl snoring; no this is kind, cuddley movie-style snuggling.

If you know me well, you know that I’m an incredibly hard sleeper.  Like, my old roommate still to this day will go on about how she once witnessed someone vacuuming right beneath my head and I kept right on REMing.  Or how about this example?  Once, while babysitting my junior year in high school, I passed out while watching a movie, and woke to find a senior football player that I barely knew in bed, asleep, beside me.  It was a waterbed.  He was not in the house when I went upstairs to start the movie.  Yeah, scary.  So I *know* this ability to conk out and stay out, (while often beneficial, I have no problems getting my rest) is a truly vulnerable part of me.  It cannot be changed, but it creates a a little mind-hack; it’s a weakness in the code that can’t be debugged.

That also means that I know that trust is really important if I am going to actually care for someone enough to let them share that bed o’mine, because, you know, they could be a real dick, and do mean stuff to me while I sleep.  Hard to really *rest* beside someone if you worry that they may take compromising photographs of you; or cut your hair; or violate you a myriad of other ways.  Humph.  So yeah– I figured it out.  It’s still kind of *not sexy,* I’ll admit it, but it doesn’t seem so weird to me anymore either.  It’s called a coping mechanism, dude, we all use ’em.

So the next question is– what does it say about me, that I’ve been putting a coping mech into my sexual fantasies?  Crap.  Good thing I have a lot more sanding and painting to do….

 

 

 

 

 


Jan 15, 2015 | Category: Just A Thought | Comments: none | Tags: , , , ,

 


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