That Girl

I was reading an old blog post from this blog about being "that guy." Because he is out of the closet in the Modern Orthodox community, he is considered "safe" to confide in. He posted about holding everyone else's secrets in his head.

Somewhere along the way, I became "that girl." I've consulted on decorative collar purchases, given one of my best friends advice on how to tell her boyfriend she wanted to be tied up and spanked. I've even given my chaste-until-marriage brother the only (and accurate) sex advice he's ever really gotten.

The only qualifications I even have to give advice seem to be the fact that a) I've had sex b) people know about it and c) I've had kinky sex (that people know about). I'm nowhere near completer with my education to become a therapist, and am mostly talking out of my ass (actually, I guess I'm talking out of my cunt).

Someday my notes will hold many secrets, Right now, my unqualified brain holds the private lives of my friends. All because of a decision a scared 16 year old girl made and the desires she was never able to get away from.

I learned to sleep with men in small beds

The first guy I ever had sex with slept in a full size bed (I think). But we never went to sleep in that bed. You almost never do with high school boyfriends.

The first man I ever slept with had a twin bed. He was a grad student. It was what he could afford. Pushing two beds together in a youth hostel was a huge luxury for us. I learned to sleep with another body in a small bed by inches.

I had a brief affair with someone who had a full/queen size bed. The relationship went nowhere, the amount of times I slept over was negligible.

The next lived most of the year in a college dormitory - extra long twin beds. It had been some time, so I had to relearn how to sleep with someone. He was bigger than my last boyfriend, took up way more room in the bed. But I learned, once again, to sleep close to another body in a twin bed. I still feel alone sleeping in my little bed by myself.

Now my love sleeps in a queen size bed. Because there is space, and he has spent more time in that bed without me than with me, we go to bed snuggled up to one another, then drift apart to sleep in our own spaces. Sometimes I get restless when there is so much space between us. I am used to learning the planes of another person's body by being forcibly pressed against it.

I can't sleep, because there is too much room in the bed. I'm also restless due to many other factors, but right now this is the one that seems to matter.