Hello Coco : A diary

Tag: intimacy

  • Emotional Deprivation: Finding Balance in Connection

    The relationship started off very strong and it lasted a total of five and a half years. It was the most healing of relationships coming from growing up with a lot of emotionally avoidant and one-sided relationships, including those of family and friends. It healed parts of my heart and broke others in a way I didn’t know could be.

    It was safe from expectations and common gender norms of getting married, having babies and any pressures that went along with how we’re conditioned to be in heterosexual relationships. Being with a woman meant I didn’t need to worry about birth control or explaining my body and hormones. This woman in particular didn’t want to have kids or get married; she only talked about buying a condo downtown someday. I knew this about her from day one, and it felt freeing to live that way – not looking for the traditional commitments especially at 24 years old.

    When we initially discussed dating she had a list of non-negotiables, with those points listed. The list kept growing as our relationship continued on and instead of it having that free feeling, I felt trapped into a life that someone only factored themselves into.

    After a long time of ‘going with the flow’ and leaning into most of all her preferences, I started to become angry. When I’d speak up about how I felt, it was a debate. Getting her to go to couples therapy was disheartening, and she tried to use her schedule to de-prioritize that and many other things that mattered to me and I wanted her to be there for.

    The romance dwindled and she joked once that it was because she had me now. The last year of our relationship I started to have even more conversations about how I felt and her solution was to throw money toward ‘date nights’ where we would go out for a fun activity and either not talk, or talk about her work or her family drama. Watching her eyes glaze over after asking me about my day made me both enraged and frozen in disappointment.

    Growing up in an emotionally avoidant household where my family did not talk about feelings and invalidated mental health, I had become very used to swallowing my words. There wasn’t one conversation where my parents apologized for anything, and speaking up for myself was followed with a ‘watch your mouth.’ My dad’s military background enforcing a ‘suck it up’ mentality that only perpetuated the repression of the traumas I began to experience moving around frequently, experiencing loss, and the harm I inflicted upon myself cutting, burning and having unsafe partners. I didn’t feel like a whole person, like I lacked personality, and I wasn’t allowed to ask for what I wanted or needed.

    I realized after quite some time that I was letting her do the same thing to me. She didn’t hear me and instead manipulated situations to her preference. If I didn’t want to do something or changed my mind because my heart wasn’t in it, I would become an inconvenience to her. The times I had brought up my feelings around our intimacy, she would gaslight me into saying that nothing was wrong. Out of the times we’ve been together we had a strong intimate interaction a mere handful of times. The rest of the time she was on a different plane of existence, leaving me alone to figure out how to feel good. I would ask for things in the moment and out of it, and they never would come. I would try to dive deep to understand but was met with surface level responses.

    I was dating my parents and didn’t realize it until it was too late.


    It wasn’t until we had broken up that I moved out that I realized I have been living in a state of deprivation. Deprivation of core needs that the coping mechanisms/firefighters from my nervous system covered up for comfort and familiarity.

    Here I am 4 months later reflecting on everything I have done exclusively for myself since. I stopped wearing sweatpants, smoking pot, watching TV as much, and staying home on the weekends. I began to go out and make connections with new people. I began dancing 2-3 times per week, something I had always wanted to do but didn’t have the motivation or self-esteem to take the leap. I got Lasik and started taking care of my body again. I got back on antidepressants and saw all my doctors to make sure everything was okay – something if I hadn’t done could have led to cervical cancer down the road.

    Then I took a major leap and decided to get to know men again. I had boundaries in place that would make my ‘adventures’ with these men purely physical. An experiment. It worked out pretty well for a while. I had small situationships with five different men (safely and honestly) and was liberated by the attention, affection, and most of all my voice in all of it. I had started to feel liberated in my feminity, and most of all found the joy in sex again which was a very deep emotional realization for me being in the gay community for so long. It sparked pride in me that I’ve truly come a long way since I was in my very early twenties; holding true to my boundaries, asking for what I wanted, and eventually calling these men out.

    I felt like a strong pillar in those moments, standing up for my younger self ten years later. All of those men ended up letting me down in all sorts of different ways than I imagined they would. It seemed the expectations I provided perhaps made them think they didn’t owe me any respect, which eventually triggered a few things for me that I worked through with ease and the help of therapy and my support system.

    Why I am writing this in the first place is because considering everything I’ve been through and where I’m at exploring, I stumbled into something that has triggered something in me that I’m trying to make more tangible, something I can grab, analyze and hopefully learn from.

    Of all the men I’ve experienced these last four months, I haven’t felt a real threat. I always felt in control, minus those triggers. Now I’ve stepped into something entirely different where it does feel threatening – feelings.

    This man is emotionally intelligent, an excellent listener, romantic, considerate, consistent, and perceptive. We’ve been talking for a few weeks and only met up once so far, and I feel feelings. Feelings I agreed I wouldn’t feel. Feelings that are bringing up more triggers and my anxious/avoidant attachment styles to the surface. Mix that with polyamory and a sprinkle of jealousy and wow am I in trouble.

    Living in a state of deprivation and lack for a long time. It can be something you just get used to and you adjust your standards to it. The men these last 5 months were just that. They were hot and we had fun, but everything else was a complete fucking mess. A mess I was fully expecting. This new man is unfortunately so great, that I remembered how malnourished I’ve been.

    It snapped something inside of me – perhaps the anchor that was keeping me grounded in avoidant comfort. This ‘roster’ mentality in the tone of feminine liberation.

    He’s telling me that he likes me, my feelings are valid, asking deeper questions, asking me what I want and giving it to me, giving me consistency and answering every question I have with transparency.

    What’s happening is I’m reacting to in a way that comes from lack. My anxious attachment wants the reassurance. Then when he texts and says something I can’t interpret as busy or lack of interest, my avoidant side comes out and wants to stop texting him altogether. Prove to myself that I don’t care or that he doesn’t affect me.

    It’s as if both are pushing and pulling me simultaneously and I’m stuck in the middle trying to figure out what to do about it.

    I want him. I want continuous attention and affection. That isn’t something I can ask for from him completely considering our situation. When I don’t get it, I want to pull away to protect myself. I don’t believe the problem is the nature of our situation so much is the healing in my heart from regulating my nervous system around giving and receiving emotional connection. If I was more regulated within myself, then I wouldn’t need someone else to fill anything up that I can’t myself.

    So, how do I create this habitat for my heart to live in independently and lovingly?

    I always thought I was pretty independent when in truth my ‘independent spirit’ is a protective barrier around genuine connection. Because I haven’t had a lot of genuine connection, it feels raw to experience it and know how to hold it with balance. Balance of holding myself up and letting another assist when I need it. When it comes down to one or another, I generally over lean into holding myself up even if done in unhealthy ways.

    How do I find the balance between the affection and attention I ask from him and the affection and attention I supply for myself?

    Do I struggle with giving myself that to the degree that I need?

    If so, what’s holding me back from that?

    Is it that I’m not present and intentional enough to be in my body and experience life?

    Is it that with every text, Instagram reel, snapchat photo that my dopamine reservoir is only filled up with him not leaving enough room for my own?

    Maybe that’s been the case these last four months with all these men – allowing them to fill my tank with compliments, sex and short-lived cuddling.

    What can I do for myself to provide more sustainable dopamine and affection that comes only from me (while also managing my ADHD)?

    Is it eating healthy, exercising, reading, writing, walking, laying in the sun, traveling, dancing, etc;? Is it self-talk, affirmations, mantras, meditation? Is it creating reliable, real, platonic friendships? I suppose those would be the ‘whole foods’ of dopamine, versus the ‘fast food’ type that can be received in other ways like leaning into sex too much, alcohol, drugs, impulsive spending, going out all the time, etc;

    Boys have been my main vice recently – sex and the affirmations I receive from them. Before I was dating this last woman, boys didn’t really look my way. I was quiet, guarded, insecure, and didn’t know how to express myself with my appearance. I never spoke up for myself and asked for what I wanted. This left me with guys who preyed on that and saw it as an opportunity to get what they wanted no questions asked. I was so lost and deprived from genuine connection that I did all I could to lean into it and find it with these men. More than once I walked away with tears in my eyes, but I kept doing it – searching and hoping.

    So, meeting this person who feels secure – it fucks with me. I want it, but don’t know how to hold it. If I do hold it, how do I determine when to let it go or give myself space without it. I feel I know the answer is to hold myself equally if not more, but it feels so hard.

  • The Product of a High Libido and Nowhere to Go

    She grabbed the rope tied in two bunny ears and looped the first one around her left wrist as he picked up the strings of the second and looped them around her right, tightening her hands behind her back gently.

    Turning her around he smiled sweetly, the dimples poking out from both sides of his cheeks. He began brushing soft kisses along her collarbone and trailing them up to her neck, letting a small gust of breath tickle her ear. The shivers up her spine were followed by a burning heat. A little fire deep inside of her ignited as she closed her eyes.

    A light sensation brushed the peeks of her nipples, his finger swiping them slowly through her black cashmere top that delicately hung off both of her shoulders. Just one tug and she would be exposed to him and from the throbbing that began to pulsate, she wanted him to rip it off altogether. He didn’t though. Instead he pulled down from the center of the collar slowly until both breasts popped out from on top, the warm summer wind from the open window stimulating them into a full juicy plump.

    Opening her eyes she gazed down just as his tongue began to swirl on top of her, flicking and sucking. The wetness of her in full bloom and a small whimper releasing uncontrollably, begging to be satiated. His smile returned at the sound, pleased with himself and pleased with her for obeying.

    Without much though she began to collapse her knees to the floor, arms still bound neatly behind her propping her breasts forward as she lifted her chin to him expectantly. Releasing his cock from behind the zipper he stroked it without taking his eyes off hers and then hungrily offered it to her. Her pillowy lips pursed around his tip, letting saliva coat them until she wrapped all the way around slowly. Enjoying the feel of his thick cock taking up space inside her finally, she moved him inside her sensually. Her eyelashes tilted upward to catch a peak of his entrancement just before his eyes rolled back while she took him in deeper and a guttural moan escaped her.

    His hips began curving inward, helping himself into her mouth gently and in rhythm with her sighs of satisfaction. She was enjoying this more than him. Using only her mouth; the rawness of the ropes pulled at her wrists created a euphoric cosmo of pleasure and pain. She wanted more.

    As if knowing exactly what she was thinking, he removed himself and lifted her up from her knees and onto the couch where he bent her over his lap. Rubbing her ass softly, the room erupted in one swift slap – a spanking that would leave the most rewarding mark. Rubbing again softly he spanked again, then again, and then one final time before tucking his large fingers into her slowly, drowning them in her cum.

    Slowly moving in and out of her, he could feel the walls of her orgasm tighten around him just before speed took over his motions. Pushing his finger right into the tiny spot of pleasure she so desired, he fucked her. Hard. A flood of ecstasy erupted from inside her, spinning him out into lust for what it would feel like to feel himself inside of her fully.

    Delicately, he lifted her so that he was behind; shrouding her in his muscle as he tucked his arm under her head for a pillow and grasping her hips with his other hand. She begged. Begged him to move inside her. The feeling of his cock sliding up and forward, pressing perfectly in formation to her, left them both unhinged in primal need to just fuck. Without any sense of self, he pounded inside of her while her back arched taking him in fully and without any hesitations to his length.

    She released and then he did, the ropes loosened and their sweat dried sweetly, letting them fall asleep completely comfortable as the wind brought in warm juniper and dogwood from just outside their window.

  • Exploring Hook-Ups: Casual to Primal Needs

    For the last two months since having intentional short flings & hook-ups with various men, I’ve started to melt toward more levels of connection. Maslow’s 3rd level of need is love and belonging and although I couldn’t really ask that of these men formally, nor would I want to, I found myself leaning toward that direction like a plant to sunlight.

    I’ve been in this studio apartment for three months now and it’s the first time I’ve lived alone in quite a few years. I’ve always prided myself on my independence and lack of need for other people to fill my cup, but I was ignorant from the comfortability of being fulfilled in other ways and not realizing all that I had been missing.

    I am officially in this ‘hoe phase’, as people like to call it, with the expectation of seeking after the physical elements of what a man can bring since being with a woman these last six years. The expectation being sex and only sex.

    After time went on with having these guys in my bed, I realized that I began to crave hugs, being squished, and face-on-skin contact. I would bury myself in their arms and neck, pulling myself closer into them as much as I could. When cuddling wouldn’t happen, I’d feel robbed even though it technically fulfilled my ask.

    I got confused for a moment because I thought perhaps that need surfaced from feelings bubbling up, but after some time really thinking about it I truly didn’t/don’t have romantic feelings for any of these men. I would never seriously consider dating any of them.

    I realize that just as sex is important, physical touch is essential for me to feel regulated and emotionally fulfilled.

    I love the relaxation of noticing my heart rate decrease with slow deep sighs. The softness of his bicep under my cheek as I pull his arm into me in a hug, or when he grabs me in a small burst of tightness before releasing.

    I’d flip around eventually and tuck my face in the space between his collarbone and neck, nuzzling in as I wrap my legs between his and pull in tighter letting any extra excitement writhe beneath the surface as I press myself into him.

    We would talk a little bit about easy things, sharing perspectives on light topics and laughing. We were comfortably warm and found the perfect position. I realized after this that this was exactly what I needed, sometimes even more so than sex.

    Now that I’ve been experiencing a lot of new things, things that I now crave even more, it’s been making the need feel more primal. Instead of just wanting it, I feel I need it. With that need a new feeling bubbled up – fear. Fear of not having it, not being able to obtain it, a lack mentality.

    It was something I had always needed, but only just realized.

    In the beginning of this entire journey, I began to go to Swing Dance classes. I think originally it was because I just like to dance and try new things, but over time I would find myself seeking out classes when I was feeling lonely or sad. Of course, the conversations that would come from this community were fulfilling in their own way, but it was the craving of physical touch that I started to realize was prevalent every time I asked myself why I would gravitate toward it. The holding hands and being close to someone in an almost a hug.

    I guess I didn’t want to admit it because it sounds fucking sad, but after time I’m just beginning to come to peace that this is what being a human feels like when you don’t have a long-term committed person in your life to fulfill these needs when you want them. My prior relationship didn’t actually offer a lot of this, it was primarily a friendship for the last year or so, so now that I’m back into it, I feel as though every need is heightened after getting a taste of it.

    It’s as if it’s brand new. Like it’s my first time. Like I had been so hungry for so long and I hadn’t realized it because I frankly just got used to it.

    As I move through my days, I feel this perpetual want. I’m always wanting. For the last two months since the first time, I’ve been with a guy it’s been a tidal wave of feeling unsatiated, even when I’m completely satisfied in the moment. It’s ongoing and almost endless.

    With the sex and now this physical intimacy, I’m just feral for the connection.

  • Breaking the Cycle: Compassion for Men, Mental Health & Intimacy

    I took a 7 year break from men. From the ages 23 – 30, I dated women and tried my best to forget men existed for all the hurt I felt from high school and college. It wasn’t their fault, we were all just figuring things out at that age, but it was my first impression of intimacy, and it stained me.

    The sex that felt transactional, harshly pornographic, and hasty made me feel like I was just a body – that I couldn’t have a deep romantic relationship with them.

    Experiencing men now, I’ve began to realize that the world did guys dirty. Obviously, they have their privilege, but the men that I have personally experienced have this underlying sadness. They are hurting and don’t know how to express it.

    I think you could probably guess that a romantic relationship with a woman is highly communicative. We’re in-tune with our cycles, hormones, feelings, and the complexities behind them. Women are also generally more likely to get vulnerable. Testing that theory; if a woman was crying in public people wouldn’t be all that surprised, but if a man was crying in public people would think something is deeply wrong. It’s a bias we all contribute to whether we like it or not and that’s just because the world taught men to suck it up.

    I’m meeting these thirty-something men and I’m seeing it all over their faces. When I bring up a boundary, call them out on being shitty, or even harmlessly tease – I see their eyes glaze over and they get defensive, quiet or completely refuse to acknowledge it, dodging the words altogether.

    Over the years, we’ve developed this kind of man-hating culture because of all the really bad news coming to light on celebrities and college boys assaulting women and covering it up. Don’t get me wrong, there are a LOT of bad men out there doing all sorts of fucked up shit, but I feel the over-arching generalizations have made the state of men’s mental health even worse. They are more scared than ever to open up, again just judging from my personal experiences.

    One guy I have been talking to, Drake, struggled to even form words when I asked him a vulnerable question around loneliness. He stumbled and I could see him trying to change the topic completely out of discomfort. I did everything in my power to show him he could be safe and say what was on his mind and it was like pulling teeth. Trying to know the push and pull balance is a new dynamic for me, coming from a prior relationship where everything was on the table.

    Another guy I had been talking to, Jesse, just didn’t engage with me when I would ask slightly personal questions. Everything was a soft spot, even me asking when his last relationship was. He became defensive, snapped at me to derail the conversation, and would ghost me for hours only to respond on a completely different topic. Don’t get me wrong, I know that I don’t know these men very well and they could very well have past traumas that I could never understand – but I was gob smacked at the stark difference between interacting with women these last 7 years and then my first interactions with men being so alike to one another.

    My biggest question, obviously stemming from the ignorance of the male experience, is why they wouldn’t want to try and help themselves – to feel better. To go to therapy and try to break past those barriers. I suppose some feel that is what they have to do to fit in and that perhaps it’s not wrong. I suppose others are too imbedded in their traumas and experiences to see that they can help it. And some are just perhaps stubborn and don’t believe they need the help.

    Regardless of whatever it may be, it breaks my heart. Talking, and having intimacy with these men as a 30-year old woman, has changed my entire outlook on men. As sad and twisty it is to admit, it has healed some of my inner-child’s harsh beliefs from judgement to compassion. It has built some bridges for me from difficult memories into re-framed sad ones.

    I had been really mean to men when I dated them back then because they kept hurting my feelings in so many different ways. I don’t make excuses for them but reapproaching those memories with 8 years of therapy and a fresh perspective, I can at least try to understand and not take them as personally.

    So, where do I go from here?

    I think it’d be difficult for me to say that I won’t date a man who can’t communicate, express their feelings appropriately, or have a hard time doing the work to better themselves, but I’m beginning to realize that a boundary I need to have is balance. I can’t work with a man who won’t try.

    For those who can’t or won’t try, for their own reasons, I have compassion, but my heart can’t save theirs even though I do have so much love to give.

    The tricky part is knowing for certain what side of it they are on. There are men who say they are trying, but the proof isn’t there. You want to believe in them, root for them and give them the support but it’s a torturous game of figuring out when to walk away.

    I had to walk away from Jesse because my alarm bells wouldn’t stop going off and I began to feel that perhaps one day I wouldn’t be safe with him. Jury is still out on Drake and this new guy I’ve been seeing – Wesley – seems to be the first out of about 5 guys that hasn’t shied away from a vulnerable question.

    I didn’t think that this period of sexual experimentation and discovery would lead to me reflecting on every experience with a man that I had ever had, but I’m so grateful for it. But I’m equally as sad processing it all through.

    I have this deep desire to cup these men’s faces between both my hands and tell them it’s okay. That everything will be okay. That they are safe. I wish them all the love they could possibly imagine and that whatever is holding them in a vice grip will just let them breathe already.