Blog, Kink

Therefore, I Believe That I Want You Immensely

Therefore, I believe that I want you immensely.

Desire is hard for me. Desire is the thing that gets the wheels spinning in my brain faster than anything.

What do you want?

When I was younger, that question caused a full-body panic and shutdown. Flashes of images, nausea, muscle spasms- not the sexy ones. And when that stopped, when I felt like I could control and contain my physical reactions again, I felt like I was sinking into a vat of sludge. I felt sticky with shame- shame for having desire, shame for reacting so strongly to such an innocuous question. I don’t want things, is what I started saying to people I was intimate with. I don’t really have desires.

I remember the first time I tried to talk to my partner about CNC. We walked around downtown of the city we were living in for hours- finally settling down by a fountain while he patiently waited (and coaxed) the words out of my throat- I have rape fantasies. I thought I would burn to ash sitting there; a body cannot contain so much shame and retain its shape and function of a body. I wouldn’t look at him. I don’t remember exactly what he said- something along the lines of, “I figured that’s what was going on,” and reassured me that I wasn’t fucked up, but to be honest, I spent so much of that conversation fighting through a haze of white noise and body reactions that the words all felt muffled. What I do remember- which is the important part- is the reassurance.

That was six years ago. In that time, he and I have developed all kind of useful tools to help me connect with and communicate desire- writing letters, drawing charts on the wall that I could point to instead of talking, nudging me and encouraging me to Do The Thing- whatever the thing was (ask someone out, express interest, whatever).

I don’t go into full panic mode when someone asks me what I want anymore. At least, I haven’t in a long time. In the past year especially, I’ve gotten so much better at communicating desire and making it known. The number of, “meh, fuck it, say the thing,” moments have increased significantly.

A couple years ago, I spent the summer in Arizona at a 7-week math intensive. While I was there, my partner sent me several care packages, one of which included a zine with the words, “Therefore, I believe that I want you immensely,” on the front.

Therefore, I believe that I want you immensely.

I knew then that I wanted those words on my body. They hurt to read. They ached. I could feel them pooling in my mouth, between my teeth, dripping down my chin. I knew I wasn’t ready yet.

It’s been a strange- and satisfying- journey from there to here. I know I’m ready to get something tattooed on me when my skin tingles in the space where it will go, and my skin has been tingling for this, up on my ribs. I knew this would be uncomfortable- much like every expression of desire has been uncomfortable. I needed to do it anyway.

Yesterday, for my birthday, I got these words put onto my skin. Just the words, although I will most likely do some designs around them at some point. But I grit my teeth and breathed through it- something I have learned to do with both tattoos and desire. And parts sucked, much as I expected. But there were parts and places I could sink into, my own blissed-out space of getting tattooed. I was pleasantly surprised to find joy in the midst of something I expected to only hurt.

Therefore, I believe that I want you immensely.

A reminder, now part of my skin. To want, unabashedly. To believe- in myself, in the people I am around, in lovers and sweethearts and friends. To claim my desire as my own, without trepidation or shame. A bookmark in my own journey; a piece of myself that can never be taken away.

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