I have a very intimate lover. Every intimate lover I’ve known has been needy. There is no exception.
I once courted – with great impropriety – a special friend called “Fence.” We still hookup every now and then, but only once in a blue moon when I’m feeling dirty. I know. Who names their kid “Fence.” But I assure you I’ve known no other name. There’s a level of secrecy between lovers that must be respected, so I don’t protest the unusual title.
Fence always likes me to be on top. “Straddle me baby. Straddle me so good you get stuck on top of me until the wind blows you over.” We had a very active physical relationship. I’ll be honest, it was thrilling. There’s an excitement to not knowing what’s coming next, like being blindfolded and feeling nothing but your lover’s hot breath on your bare skin, waiting for the next touch to come and having no clue as to which part of your body will be chosen or how much pressure or pain will come. If you’re not a thrill-seeker like me, you wouldn’t care for Fence. You’d probably pass him/her right up without a second thought. Did you catch that pronoun ambiguity? Fence has no gender. It’s kinky.
Let me tell you about the first time. I still get chills and a rush of heat beneath my zipper.
I was 18. Fresh meat. Naive and full of ideals and dreams and silly plans with no logistical foundation. Most of all, I wanted to get away from home, at any cost. Fence swore it would be good for us.
I went with Fence all the way to Texas. My ears buzzed and the space between my shoulder and my neck tickled at 30,000 feet for almost 12 hours. It was a new kind of ecstasy. I had never really exposed myself to drugs – not in the common stereotype, at least – up till that point so any ecstasy would have been new, but this was my dragon, and I’ve been chasing it ever since.
I’m like most Westerners. I like new. I like fast too, but you wouldn’t care about that unless you’re Fence, and you’re not. My first month in Texas passed in a dazzle of new. New skies (always painted), new stars (always numerous), new people (not always polite), new weather (always warm), new bugs (always big), new food (always worth trying), new, new, new. It was electric. Fence doesn’t like me to get carried away. Fence does like me to get my hopes up, though, as long as I never become too confident. There’s power in doubt, and power is everything.
Fence isn’t good at making money, and I was so busy with my internship that I didn’t have the time to make money. But there’s one thing I know to do whenever worries like these come up: throw caution to the wind and straddle Fence, just hop right on and ride like Seabiscuit until the custodial staff comes knocking about noise complaints… from the custodial staff. Then proceed forward, which could be any direction really. It depends on how the sex ends. I always let Fence choose.
How many words have I written so far? I read somewhere that a successful blog post should contain at least 1500 words.
Fence and I got kicked out of Texas.
Okay, that’s not completely true. I got kicked out of my internship. Depending on who you ask, that’s not entirely true, either. At least one person had decided I didn’t trust Jesus enough. Fence doesn’t know what to think of that, so I pretend I never heard it.
After the internship, Fence and I returned home. It was an immediate decision, maybe primal instinct you would think. It was Fence’s decision. Things weren’t working on this side, so we had to go back to the other, and I straddled Fence the whole way back.
We started a trend, me and Fence. When shit goes wrong you move on, get the hell outta there and let it burn in peace. Hop on top of Fence and get fucked the whole way over to the other side. Fucking Fence is exhausting. My doctor – like I actually have a doctor – says its not healthy, but Fence says it’s the best thing that could ever happen to a person. More is better, right?
So what does this all have to do to you? You don’t care about my sex life. You’ve never met Fence. You probably don’t even care about Texas, failed music breakthroughs, my countless indecisions. Well, you might.
I recently ended things with Fence. The relationship was too one-sided. Besides great sex and paralyzing anxiety empowered by poor decision making, I really wasn’t getting anything out of it. The sex might have been worth it at one point, but I got tired of always being on top, always doing all the work.
This is where you come in. Fence is a peculiar kind of being, from another planet or world, I’m convinced. Fence is a textbook manchild. Fence needs. Fence needs attention (CONSTANTLY). Fence needs action (intense and CONSTANTLY). Fence needs raging anxiety in order to woo his prey. Fence needs extremes; extreme choices, dichotomies, fear littered with hope, that sort of thing. Fence feeds on those things – it’s a curious diet I have yet to understand.
The point is, if you can’t provide these things, you will never stand a chance with Fence. If you can provide day in and day out, you qualify for the wildest ups and downs and the constant thrill of getting fucked by Fence. Just remember, Fence likes you to be on top. It’s to make you think you’re in power, like reverse psychology or something. I figured that out after we went our separate ways.
I ran into Fence today. We still talk sometimes. Today wasn’t a good day for surprise meetings, though. The best way to get rid of Fence – you didn’t hear this from me – is to keep breathing and focus on it. Fence has a big ego and likes to take your breath away. If you keep watching your breath – in and out, rise and fall, expand and deflate – you’re immune to Fence’s power; then you can’t be pulled in. Then you won’t straddle Fence. Then you won’t get addicted.
I’m not going to hit 1500 words. Maybe this metaphor sucks. Why am I even writing this? But I already started. No one’s going to read this. God, this feels so good.
I’m not salty about the whole Texas thing. I was young and needed to learn. Nowadays I don’t put up with that kind of shit. The trick is to keep your eyes forward. Don’t look back when you hear Fence crunching along behind you. Don’t look up when you know Fence is about to drop out of the sky. Don’t fall for the theatrics. Keep your eyes forward. Don’t worry about repeated attempts to pull you in. Fence has a hard time taking “no” for an answer; it’s the ego thing. The key is to keep breathing.