Crazy Bitch
“What happens there?”, I ask him. I pause mid sex with the question. Several times I had noticed the pattern - that right at peak intensity, the sensation drops off in my body and I don’t feel connected to him. This time, rather than try to “fix” it in any way, I stop us entirely and ask. At first he doesn’t have an answer. But as we lay in bed, both truly curious and talking it through, something dawns in him. “Oh, when it gets that intense, I slip from being in the moment with you, to in a fantasy about you… and then I'm in my mind rather than my body.” I exhale. It all makes sense. That thing i felt (which i could make up 10 reasons for, but actually wasn’t sure of) now lands with total clarity. What I had felt was right, and he was able to explain why.
Later, we talk about one of his ex-girlfriends and how she became obsessed with the idea that he was cheating several months into their relationship. How she constantly checked his phone and grilled him on his outings. “Were you?” I ask. “Never” he assures me. But as we talk, it becomes clear that about 3 months into the relationship he knew it wasn’t going to work. He didn’t cheat, but he silently withdrew his heart. And while she was wrong about *what* was happening, she wasn’t wrong that *something* was happening. At the height of her obsession, he used to argue she was crazy. As we talk it becomes clear she wasn’t. She was onto something. She just didn’t have the accurate information of what.
The feminine knows. We might not be able to explain what we know. We might point and be off the mark. But if we’re pointing it’s because *something* is there. The challenge of this is that it can appear illogical (aka crazy). And truly this kind of knowing isn’t based on logic. It’s based in the ability to feel. Which makes for another challenge. When we put words to what we feel we may not be accurate. Filtered through the mind - with its fears, traumas and conditioning - feelings can take on all kinds of distorted projections. So our practice is to stay loyal to feeling, without assuming we definitively know what it means. “What is that?” makes for a profound mutual inquiry.
That night as I lay in bed with my lover a whole new level of intimacy opened as we explored that question - with my compass of feeling, and his honest revelation. My willingness to listen to and believe the feeling, and his willingness to believe me, and excavate his own being for what it could be, allowed us to go there. It’s the beauty possible when the feminine and masculine are in it together for the truth.