After some consideration, I’ve decided that the following two paragraphs should be like a preface by the author. My biggest challenge in writing this blog so far has been how to tell A Story versus My Story. In my first post I said something like, an autobiography scantily clad as fiction. On hands and knees is probably a bit too scantily clad. I have also decided that drinking while blogging, like most activities requiring brain or body, is probably sloppy at best.
The Onanists’ Tail has been in a long-term holding pattern for several months now. Partially because I’ve lost my captivated audience of one, partially because anatomically, the next logical action to my perverse story would be that Juan rapidly turns over onto his back and penetrates me in furious fashion. Even in fiction, I feel the need to maintain some level of honesty, at least with myself. I don’t want to be on top. Being blind might help that. I would feel less visible like that for some reason. Apparently normally constituted women, according to highly reliable sources like Cosmopolitan and Elle, get more out of the whole deal in that position but it has always made me feel enormous, like a big oil-stain on a beautiful tablecloth. I’m six feet tall, at times skeletal and at other times way less so. Maybe that is why. Maybe even if I was a dwarf I would still feel horribly self-conscious planted there writhing around making faces and noises and everything.
I know this joke, there is a male ostrich who sees a beautiful female ostrich batting her long, black lashes at him. He takes this as an invitation and begins to run towards her. She panics instantly and starts galloping away from him. He pursues her, thinking it’s a mating ritual or something. She is more and more frightened. She gets too a shore and immediately sticks her head far into the sand. As Mr. Ostrich catches up to her, he stops, puzzled, and says “Where did she go! Damn!” Which brings us to why, from behind, I just like it better. As if everything is completely anonymous. As if what I feel or who I am cannot be seen by my partner. Although I have Long-Term Fat-Ass Phobia, I feel much less vulnerable on all fours. When I was younger, more hopeful, less disappointed…I found the missionary position extremely close. Like love, only fucking. All that kissing and being held and everything. After some bad experiences I decided to put that to rest. On your knees, it’s only like fucking.
So back to the park, the ducks, the blind seeing eye dogs frolicking, my crotch firmly planted on Juan’s backbone. Everything was so vivid to me. The smell of pine, the feeling of Juan’s skin, the cool breeze. What one cannot see, one can feel in amazing intensity. This the advantage of my disadvantage.