A Secant Query

Between Administrating and Care

Wherein a community boundary is ritual ink...

Between Administrating and Care

a note on tone: Okay. It's about time I had the talk. Are you ready to get sexual with me (that's the talk)? Here we go! 🔥🧊

I have a not-so-great time with sex - giving or receiving or much anything in between. Not because I can't consent. But that I blanket-consent to whatever "gotta cum em all" a lover has. I am a first-responder; every human is a disaster. I can't say no to a disaster. I cannot consent.

Bad Faith

Lovers end up hating themselves from this, in my experience. They think, with enough love, enough sex, they'll save me, you, us all. It's high time this shortest line between loneliness and intimacy in a loneliness epidemic, is told it is downright bad faith.

I don't get to ask if a lover is sure they want to change the friendship we got into that whole other thing. The environmental impact on the relationship's emotional landscape hormones have is too complex for them; they're "just trying to survive." Well so are the subtle, tender places competing with sexual urges (who will after intercourse have case law to work with).

They lovely-much-nice these words, salivate, pause mid-drawers dropping, look at me, note a nod may serve here, places it, and continue to disrobe. Cries from people in all the ways cries happen sprout, then it dawns on them to ask:

what can I do to make you enjoy it?

(selection process behind the word 'make' notwithstanding) This is clear evidence no environmental assesment of a lover's emotional landscape (the most important person in the room) was made. The parts of a lover that most-needed to say yes were not invited to exist. For survival is hungry, they're just doing what they need to do.

I'm Here

Well, so am I. Lovers go, "Might we talk about a thing we both can understand?" Deep breath.

Welcome...

to the fucking talk.

Would you like to start us off with a poem?

...

Poem is said, or isn't; you currently hold charge and embody precisely the ideal scenario.

Break that charge down with me. Get me to where I know in my bones whether your home this moment is laced in poetry you word or no. You hold a charge - its generated ambiguity and process is tiring. I feel purposely driven to exhaustion, set up to say you have, the moment laced. And watch a partner once again begin to despise themselves for inviting hormonal urges into an inadequate, faithless emotional world.

May you do all you might to resolve this charge.

I Wait

Notice how important your reaction to my read on you as you read this is for this conversation. I set intensions with not what you want from me as much as what you want from yourself. You don't trust yourself; I recognize that. I put in the effort to keep you safe with a strong start that you can work through on your own time to find my contextual frame. I literally tie myself to poetry.

... (Thank me.)

Sex is words of relationship; sex is fire ecology. Partners in my life are lovely conversationalists, clear communicators, and trauma-informed. I say no to everything for a lot of people for the above reasons: one's emotional lanscapes is not on speaking terms with them by default. Being let into the conversation is to word what subtle and tender feelings hormonal colonialization of time in (and poured toward) bed crowds out.

My community's vulnerability diet is blood, sex, sugar, and magic; our world today is the output. As seasoned first responder, I'm left to tend a world starving to "feel the right feels." A state of becoming has through extraction become a "goal" (orgasm) not just a state (holding hands). I state my boundaries here as a kind thing to do.

For Communal Self-Care

Complexity's first and only path to foundation: the boundary. A conversation held between establishment and maintenence, boundaries breathe. They need to be fed clarity with lines, not lined to hard clarity; they need to be brushed with bristly questions, not questioned for being bristly. A boundary-setting language is time-honored, old words WILL serve new ways to say and fit them. Constrcuting the boundary is not the time to figure out feelings, to try out a new syntax with fancy smell-o҉-symbols. Have limits; (You will) find them. That states them.

A lovers hands are cold and they want to make an exception where they might warm their hands on my back this one time? Too bad. They can stick them under their armpits or take these extra gloves I carry to hand out to people; I am community experiencing extraction, my social mores are extraction-led, and compromise with hell out of my, your, and all our integrity. It's annoying: welcome to Earth.

A language for your emotional landscape is not taught; and lacking one is inadequate. I write this to hear from yours, and til that time am not interested in sexual interaction. My boundaries are non-negotiable. No is a complete sentence - and I don't owe elaborate explanations.

I identify manipulation to excess as is my right; in exceptional times as these, lovers can be exceptionally understanding - or they can go fuck a bot.

You Are My Boundaries

No guilt-trip, no attempt to wear down resolve will go without recognition. Manipulation will be brought to light. On my part, it is neither "paranoia" or "hyper-vigilence"; might you have no report with your emotional landscape, I am being manipulated and it stops here.

My instincts, delicate, can only be so clear. I honor those whispers for the miraculous attempts to communicate in a tyrranical world that they are. I act with the level of care I desire from the most remarkable of partners. I find exit strategies and note them, not because I am left in a state of always-on ready to act, but because it is a kind thing I provide community.

I am a community, first and foremost, and have been given a body to tend to and experience as my own; I WILL honor that. I seek care and bring others up to speed on what my emotional landscape holds accounable. You learn from (my example)[https://secant.bearblog.dev/]. I set memorable expectations at the earliest sign of advancement, so when you try, it is easier:

No, no, your bringing that sort of stuff up is great, actually. I've been hoping to be invited to talk about my boundaries with you. And to ask you about yours, hoping you have them.

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