Sex Tip #18: Respect People’s Celibacy Choices

Like the title says. Respect it.

The lesson I learned over the last few weeks creates that truth for me. Holly has helped me through it enough to write about it, appreciating moments of real contact [not just physically], and where I needed to learn where the line is/was. XOXO Holly sweet.

It is marvelous to have Holly back in Vancouver. Hanging out is good. Wreck Beach is just what I need. And the booze and pot and sex and movies and pot luck dinners and picnics with vodka coolers make me know that Holly is a core part of my life for a long time. Amen amen amen.

And now that Holly is going to my/our church quite regularly now we have become a social item. Not a dating item. We aren’t dating [technically, just the benefits].

But people know us. And they know us as a pair.

And Holly likes some of the boys. Not enough to date, but enough to enjoy the view and flirting.

And then there’s Randy. He is new to town, doing his Masters of Divinity and has spent the last several weeks at our evening service. I think he has a training gig lined up for mornings somewhere. Somewhere where no one puts their arms in the air when they feel moved. 🙂

Randy is sweet, has awesome wavy flowing hair, is 29, 1/4 Korean, and not too tall. Not that height is a dealbreaker. 🙂

Holly got to him first one evening after the “show” as she calls it when it’s a bit shlocky. And we went for coffee with him and a few other folks. Coffee meant martinis for a few of us. Slippy in the throat. Yes.

Lotsa talk. Lotsa fun. Phone numbers and last names for Facebook friendship go around.

And the next day I phone him from work and arrange a light dinner for that night.

Open relationships have their benefits. Gordon is a dream, but we both appreciate the fun of variety. I should really go into some of that all in that last several months. But that’s that.

Over the course of 4 times over the next 2 weeks or so before it all crashed to the ground, to put it simply, I tried to get Randy to have sex with me.

I liked him splendidly. He was richly interesting. He had a deep soul.

And he had been, in a previous life, a married furniture assembler with a gambling problem who found a good 12-step program, Jesus and a calling to go into social work and the chaplaincy. Totally respectable. And fascinating.

His marriage ended before his gambling did. Her call. I get that. He had overcome quite a bit, but the broken marriage was the heaviest as it all happened before he knew God and so his frame of dealing with a divorce was after the events. An awkward thing.

And he told me about the times he and his ex met for coffee to work on their shit [“stuff”]. Really endearing.

But he is also a born-again virgin, which i find out on our 3rd date. Which I totally respect. Except I didn’t really. And that’s on me. I’ll accept that.

So when we first went out for dinner, it was casual and fun and we both had a good time. I kissed him goodnight. He was into it. And enjoyed his warmth.

So we plan a post-dinner drink the next night. He had a family thing for dinner.

So I wore a light jumper and cami and no bra. I felt amazing.

Drinks and chatting were nice. I was warm and casual and tipsy and we held hands lots. I knew he was taking in my breasts. BAV, but not dead. I felt good.

We ended the night kissing and hugging. I got in some good glancing nipple rubbing on his chest. Very nice. But the night ended without anything more. I bide time.

Then on the Saturday we walk the seawall a bit. Light, purple skirt past the knee, no panty. Going commando. And the whole braless thing again with a lose scoop T and cami again.

And when we make it around to Lumberman’s Arch we find some nice shady grass aside some bushes and lie down to nibble the baguette and drink some cool beverages.

My goal was to green light him, not for there then, but in general. Such a whore, I know. I’ve come to terms with that.

I arranged myself so that I was lying somewhat under him with his back facing away from the bushes. Under cover of his legs on mine, I slid my skirt up a bit and flowed my hand to my pussy for some comfort. Hoping he’d follow my lead. He did eventually. And he showed slight startle at what he found in there. 🙂 Yay!

He was enjoying the heat and wet and hair and slippy skin. I liked him there greatly!

And after a bit of time there I rolled over onto him. His shorts were not thick. Spreading my skirt up so it was pussy on shorts I/we had a nice time. No bouncing or monster grinding. Just pleasure. Some cleavage leaning. And I spent a good amount of time with my eyes closed, moving my hips oh so gently. Luscious.

And after a time I lied back down to spoon. Felt his cock on my ass. Very nice.

And we walk back and he drives me home and kissing goodbye, I touch his cock and ask him if he’d like me and his friend to get to know each other better. And then he starts telling me about his BAVity. And I feel in part like an ass, but far moreso frustrated. That is me being selfish. I own that too.

And we part well. And I go in and rub off an O.

So the next Friday night we have coffee. And we talk. And do the getting to you know more deeply thing. But the whole time I live a deep sadness that we’re on different pages.

And I know it’s going nowhere because though I like him a lot, I don’t like him enough [or is that even the issue? Holly?] to stay celibate with him.

And towards the end of that night we both start talking about the elephant in the Starbucks. And we just agree that that’s that. Still friends, or is it “friends”.

And as much as I replay it all in my mind, I don’t come up with ways of being different. If he had mentioned BAV before our 3rd date it just would have ended earlier.

Holly says I’m swimming in whore guilt. That he will think I’m the slut I’d be seen as by most in the church. In part true. Mostly something different though.

Mostly sad that his circumstance were/becomes different.

Mourning what would otherwise have been. And it’s sad.

But the lesson is important. To respect people’s choices. Because in the end, you can build nothing casual or serious when one person does not sincerely accept where the other person is.

Dreamily,

Tina

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