It was a year ago today that I had my first date with Trevor. It was not your typical dinner and a movie or tea at Dobra kind of date, and knowing us, you wouldn’t have expected it to be. We had been friends for a little under two months, and on September 23, 2014, he came to my house for a Sensual Research Date. The rest, as they say, is history.
It has been an extraordinary ride so far. Prior to this relationship, I had been monogamous, or monogamish. Trevor already had 4 lovers at that time. At some point, I decided that I was going to go “all in,” despite my fears and
Photo courtesy of Sam Conviser
vulnerability. At times, I have wondered what the hell I was thinking, and yet I have never regretted my choice. At the risk of making you all fall in love with him too, Trevor Jones has a huge heart, a deep loyalty and a desire to serve others. And our sexual chemistry is off the charts. He makes me laugh. He laughs at my jokes. He carries my stuff. He always says those three important little words that my feminine longs to hear from the masculine, “I Got This.” We often say that I am Shakti, the river, running wild and juicy, creating, nurturing, destroying if left unchanneled. He is Shiva, the banks of the river,the one who finds the how for my what, and sets the limits that keep me from flooding the fields, making me instead productive and focused.
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Why would someone hire an intimacy coach?
On Sept 12th, the Embodied Sensuality Playshop and Authentic Sexuality Play Party was one of the most gratifying and thankful groups we’ve had yet. Part of the wonderful magic that happens at Play Parties is the forming of tribe or community. We shared a heart space that cannot be easily described, but once felt, could not be denied. During our last party, two equipment malfunctions entertained us. Both a bed and a massage table collapsed. No one was hurt, but there was no denying the energy of the evening was “off the hook.”
We strive to create a container of safety and enjoyment for all. Emotions ran high, as people were witness to lifestyles that were not their own. As one lover put it, “…my bubble was expanded, but not broken.” We encourage all who attend to Treat Life like an Experiment. All your experiences are data to be collected so you can better live your life. We encourage people to follow their desires, free of shame and judgement. Some came with the intent to play with others; some came to watch, some to find out what all the excitement was about. Too often I am asked, “What’s the gender balance?” “how straight or gay is the party?” or “what are my chances?” This is the wrong mindset for our kind of party. I recommend coming with no intention other than to connect to other people, and perhaps to learn some skills for being more intimate with your fellow humans.
Another full moon, another sleepless night. Even as a child, I had trouble sleeping on a full moon. I know it’s a cliché, and many pagan and wiccans will claim a strong connection to the lunar cycle. I used to lie awake and read books by the light of the full moon. My parents were sure it was the cause of my need for glasses by the time I was in high school.
At the time of this writing, it’s August 30th, 2:30am. My partner Rebekah and I completed the first of our classes at 3 Days of Light Gathering in Old Fort, North Carolina and it couldn’t have gone better. Despite arriving a day later than we originally planned, the schedule on the festival website being inaccurate, and a host of issues that left us feeling unprepared, we had a crowd of 18 and a very successful workshop.
The cabin given to us for classes was stifling hot and as soon as class ended, they all cleared out. Rebekah and I made our way down to the lake. The night was lovely. We took a moonlight stroll to the lake pier where we put our feet in the water and watched the tadpoles swim about. I reflected for a moment on the events of the day that led up to our success; the rushed feeling of getting prepared, the script’s words floating around in my head, where my social anxiety jumbled them up until I didn’t know the beginning from the end. And then losing my ankh as I crossed a bridge.
that I moved to Asheville, NC. We knew only two people who lived here, one of my ex-lovers and my business coach. I arrived with my husband Marc, my two daughters, Ariana and Mariah, and my puppy, Pandora. The marriage didn’t even make it off the moving van; he and his stuff moved immediately into a different household, and finally the divorce papers are in hand for my review and signature. Mariah moved back to New York in December of 2014 and is thriving there as a newly enrolled herbalism student, and coffee barrista. On August 4th, Ariana moved back to New York to live with family and pursue her dreams of becoming a hairdresser, and clothing designer, and forging a closer relationship with her Dad.
I tried taking Pandora to Brother Wolf to be rehomed. After seven months of seeking and failing to find permanent pet-friendly housing, Spirit, convinced me it is time for her to have a new family. There were so many feelings, grief, regret, relief, excitement. These are the same feelings I have had each time I let one of my family move on with their lives. Except for some belongings (most of which are in storage), she is the last external piece of what I came here with. My thought was, “All that’s left is Me.” I didn’t realize that they have a waiting list to take dogs in. And so she is with me a few days, or weeks, more? Maybe spirit just wanted to see if I would do it. Not to be grandiose, but it’s kind of like the story of Abraham being willing to sacrifice his son Isaac.
Let me start by saying I grew up in what seemed to be a pretty normal southern American environment, which is to say it was racist, homophobic, unenlightened and violent. Despite my best attempts it wasn’t until years later that I learned how much of our language was misogynistic, judgmental and just plain wrong.
When a group of young men gathered, the subject of woman often came up. Most likely each guy’s sex life, or interest in particular girls would come up. Whenever it does, the phrase “Did you f**k her yet?” or “Have you slept with her?” would be uttered. It was not only common to hear, it was accepted as part of “Man talk.”
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