Objectify me

I'm still feeling out this whole blog business... trying to decide length, how to manage series, changing its name. I want to be more visceral, and less like I'm trying to recall everything detail-by-detail. I'm busy perusing other sexblogs out there, many of which are intelligent and insightful and hot, and I'm wondering if my views and perspectives will be at all eye-opening or unusual to others. I'm no sexuality or gender theorist - I have my experiences and emotions and that's about it. We'll just have to see where that takes us.

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Last night, I went to my first fête - which is Carribbean for a big-ass party. I was excited about going out - alcohol and dancing are things that I understand and enjoy.

Here, dancing is just dancing, no matter how sexual, and doesn't really mean anything. For me, any sort of close physical contact means something. Intimacy. Familiarity. Affection. Sexual interest. Trust. Not something I do with just anyone. Even with people I am extremely close to, like the Actor, who I cuddle with all the time - sometimes if I'm irritated, stressed out or upset, being touched or held is the last thing in the world that I want. During those times, it feels smothering and makes me panic...

I dance. Men come up behind me and we grind. We do not look at each other. I can't count how many people I danced with that night, some were acquaintances, many of them strangers, but most of the time I do not see their faces. I just feel the oddly-impotent movements of hips. Commodify anything too much, and even the sexiest of them become unsexy.

Even after more rum, I do not enjoy winding [i.e. grinding]. I enjoy the dancing, like I always do, but the unwanted contact is just a bother. So I try to ignore them. Don't look at them. Or I use them like a prop. Grind hard; force them to match my movements instead of matching theirs. Because isn't that what we are being for each other? Props in a dance?

I only want to dance with perhaps four people who are there. I manage to dance with one of them - British-Trinidadian dorm-mate - multiple times and it's exhilerating. I see a Bajan guy friend now and again, and chat and dance with him, and enjoy it. We dance front-to-front for a few minutes and I feel myself start dripping...

Why? He's a cool and interesting person who I'd actually want to be closer to. He seems out of the typical mindset of most people here. He's attractive. And I trust him.

Trust. Funny how out of so many factors, that's almost the most important. Trust, and liking the person as a person.

For the rest of the night I'm subtly touchy with him. I want to talk to him; dance with him more, but he keeps vanishing. I'm so tipsy and it's so packed that it's hard to pick out people in the crowd. And it's noisy. I can't hear what anyone is saying, and nobody can hear me. For a while, I'm pretty sure I lose my voice for all the yelling I've been doing.

Around me, the 'prudish' American exchange students are taking advantage of the overall debauchery to do things that they normally wouldn't. Beside me, one of my tripmates (cute one too) is dancing intensely with a short local girl; sweat dripping down his face and bared chest. Another exchange student I know is sandwiched between two men, pushed up against a fence, practically having clothed sex. More than a few congo-grind-lines are happening.

Aren't I taking advantage, too? As I dance with British-Trinidadian behind me, and gesture to the cute-tripmate to come so that his back is against me, running my hands over his sweaty sides and back... I realize that I'm guilty of exactly what everyone else here is guilty of, for all my (supposed) reservations.

The party is broken up at around three, and everyone starts scrabbling for someone to go home with. I've been dancing with a skinny, slightly effeminite guy for a while and he asks, "do you want something from me?" I hadn't realized that if you dance with someone for a long time, or more often, it 'means' more, and I'm embarrassed. I excuse myself quickly and look for my dorm-mates.

On the way back, I fall into step with Bajan-guy. I oddly feel more confident. (Just like that day where I was sketched on by a shit ton of people...)

When I watched the movie Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, one quote struck me:

[Clementine: And in your little brain. You try to figure out, "Did she fuck someone tonight?"
[Joel: No, see Clem. I assume you fucked someone tonight. Isn’t that how you get people to like you?

I am a quiet person. Sometimes I find talking difficult. I find expressing myself difficult. Alcohol loosens my tongue. Makes things easier; makes me more sociable.

And I resort to the visual. Cute clothes. Dancing. Sex. Sex breaks down barriers. Doesn't always need words. Says things that I can't. Sex permeates so many of my close connections with people. Is it surprising that out of six of my best friends at college, I've slept with four of them?

Maybe it's not a bad thing to gain confidence, validation and exhileration from sexual encounters. But I want more control. I want to be the one making the choices.

I don't take anyone home that night. Some of us continue the party in the dorm-backyard, but I go to my room and write a long, explicit email to the Emperor, in response to this. The close bodily contact made me think of him and wish that I could have him...

The next day, I'm frustrated because the power and internet are out for the 4372498th time, and I can't check to see if I got a reply. I go out to use the library's internet, but they're closed by the time I get there. When I come back, my roommate tells me that Bajan-guy had stopped by while I was out. Which made me really happy. I haven't exactly made any real friends here yet, except for my trip-mates...

Maybe I'm on my way to making one.

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(I'll post parts of my email to the Emperor later ~)

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