Part of playing, regardless of permission or no, is about desire. There is a stagnant nature inherent in monogamous construct. Until about a year back, I had been dedicated to one partner since I was 18 years old. We have the same menu of sexual positions, we have the same round of foreplay, and the sex itself lasts the same amount of time (plus or minus 5 minutes). We can notionally try new things, but we don’t. We can notionally talk about it, but we don’t. I asked for an open marriage largely based on my desire to experiment with new sexual interests, concepts around polyamory, and just learning myself through the eyes of others. The request felt like what I had experienced dancing. The more people you dance with, the better you become at following, leading, and expressing yourself freely within the set vocabulary of the dance.
As I began seeing men, “dating” such as it is, I realized that my biggest motivator to learn was mirrored desire. You like what I look like in those heals when I bend over to grab something I dropped? You like making me laugh and when I give you the side glance filled with mischief? You want to find the ways to make my breathing your compass? You are intrigued by the way I write and you want to share your interests with me? You want to know how I feel and you want me to know you completely also? You want to tease and play and have fun? You want to care for me and be absolutely real?
Fuck. Game on! This makes me want to learn every single one of your triggers and push them mercilessly like never ending pinball game. I want to know if feet are your thing – always an excuse for pedicure. I want to know if the chocolate you want to lick of my stomach must be hot. I want to know if you prefer ass over tits – and I will make sure you get your share of pictures down my cleavage or my ass over a kitchen counter. If you are an ass lover, I might have to try to convince you of my stronger assets. I love leggings that make the most out of the legs that go alllll the way to the floor. I have curves, and I am cool if they occasionally fall out of my clothing a little. Likely, if you are looking at me as if needing to devour, you like my eyes and the way I look at you too. I am smart, kind, and endlessly bizarre…you need to want me for that too. It makes that corset I wear sometimes fit tighter when you realize all that is inside – and if it doesn’t make you want to get inside it…then your hot desire is not for the me confined within.
Can you find my triggers? I want to know if my choice in earrings distracts you from the true purpose – you need to know where my ear lobes meet my neck. I am hoping your arms and shoulders mean you are super grabby. If you don’t have smile wrinkles that speak to your endless, habitual joy – you can just move along. You must be smart and realize that nerding is the sexiest thing on this planet. I will be crazy to watch your eyes dance while you talk about the things that are your jam. If you share with me, and I don’t have to beg, then I feel your generosity. There is nothing I adore more than generous kindness. Hold my hair tight and then play with it endlessly, but make sure you know how it smells too. If you are missing out on the details that are mine, you are missing the point and I can always tell.
If we have the mirrored desire, I want to learn everything about your sexual, intellectual, and emotional needs. I will give you mine also with all the clarity I possess. My partners…I wonder if they will feel this when they read these words. I can close my eyes now and see them with that mirrored intensity. Do I desire them because they desire me? Or do they desire me because I desire them? Or did we stumble upon the synergy created by mutual starvation? Or is it magic? Doesn’t matter why really, other than identification of the “why” might lend to nurturing the long term health and intensity of the desire. And holy hell, do I absolutely want that feeling to last!
Look at me like I am yesterday’s limp lettuce that you will manage to eat just because you hate wasting food…and you can virtually guarantee that I will just toss you out for the chickens and amuse myself as they run around in circles.
You give me that hungry look? I will fire that back, and then I want to set us on fire. Don’t every stop blurting that you think I am beautiful. Don’t ever shush me when I tell you that I love your body. Don’t let me forget that you want me. Don’t let it go to habit and routine. Help me keep us on fire, oscillating between the fast hot burn and the slow eternal smolder that keeps us warm at night and barely visible in any darkness. This is our responsibility. I cannot and will not do it alone.