Jan 262015

Remember when the song “Bad Romance” by Lady Gaga debuted? I remember it quite vividly. It was the first time in years that a music video improved the song for me — and made me crave some part of life I felt like I was missing. But first, perhaps, a reminder of the video:

Aesthetically, I love this video. It’s so symbolic, full of couture fashion, and dripping with sexual kinks. It’s not unusual for a music video to be sexy or sell sex; but for a video to blatantly celebrate all kinds of kinks while being beautiful, dramatic, and filled with gorgeous people? Perfection.

But my main attraction to the song was not how beautiful the music video was or even debating whether or not Lady Gaga was/is hot. (She is, by the way.) Instead, my true interest was buried in the idea of having this relationship you knew was doomed, but the sex would be amazing and you both knew it going into it.

It would be fucking for the sake of fucking because the urge you had for each other, this passion, the animal sexuality, whatever you call it, could not be denied. And 5 years ago, I was dying for this kind of experience. I was still married to my ex and this song confirmed everything I suspected but did not want to fully realize: my sex life was boring and practically dead, and this was something I wanted.

I was so tired of vanilla sex. Actually, calling it that is practically an insult to vanilla sex. Let’s call it predictable, non-passionate, going through the motions sex. Sex because the act was sexual, but there wasn’t any emotion or joy in it. It was pretty boring.

When this song came on the radio, I was turn it up and sing along, wishing I could have this kind of experience. I wanted a nothing held back, torrid sexual experience. I wanted scratching, biting, hair-pulling, pinning each other down, screaming until the sun came up kind of night.

I didn’t want to feel anything, I just wanted the best fucking of my life with someone I was comfortable with and who didn’t want a relationship with me. Of course it would end badly; how do you start fucking someone just to fuck without it becoming a habit or expectation and then walking away?

It was such a fantasy and it go to the point where even listening to the song would make me horny. I used to masturbate thinking about this faceless, nameless Bad Romance who was only there for the kinky sex-obsessed side of me. I wanted the sex and any of the hurt that came with it.

The tradeoff of being fucked and forgotten sounded pretty good; emotionally it would suck, but physically it would be the greatest thing I’d ever experienced.

Picture courtesy of Orignaux Moose via Flickr

Picture courtesy of Orignaux Moose via Flickr

I never got my Bad Romance. I jumped from my divorce right to a serious relationship with FHF. Initially I thought he made the perfect Bad Romance partner – if things didn’t work out when he came to visit, he would just return home and my life would go on.

I decided once we made plans for his visit that if things did not work out, then I’d start going to lesbian bars and see how that went for me. Why not have a Bad Romance with my first girl-girl experience? That was almost too predictable: get fucked by a lesbian on my first night with a girl, get heartbroken when I’m addicted to body and spend eternity looking for another woman who could make me fell the same way. (I’m really good at writing tragic comedies of my life.)

I never got the chance to go visit the lesbian bar. FHF came to visit and our first night was nothing but caring, trust, and having sex as it was meant to be had. It was probably the greatest vindication of my 7 years of sexual frustration. I forgot about my Bad Romance.

Fast forward to last fall when I realized that I wanted to be polyamorous with male and female partners.  I love FHF, but I want more. I want to have my “sexual cake” and eat it too. I want a lifelong partnership and multiple romantic interests that are completely OK with him. And I want him to have the same freedom.

I wanted that Bad Romance with the Bad; I didn’t like the rest of the world being off limits. There were too many sexy, attractive, and interesting people to not enjoy a relationship and sexual rapport.

I started falling for someone, hard; I told FHF and he was a combination of caught off guard and uneasy since we had mutual friends and things could get awkward if they went bad. But, he wasn’t against it and he was never upset that I was feeling this way.

Then things started falling apart for FHF and I, and that put the brakes on everything. This wasn’t the time to start exploring a poly life; but we both agreed that when we patched things, that would be a road to look at seriously.

That glimpse of a poly life has struck me. I want it. I really enjoy fantasizing about my romantic interests and realizing that it could not just be a fantasy; it could be reality. The animal of hungry sexuality was awake again, and it’s appetite for new sexual experiences and partners has not been fed.

My feelings for this ‘crush’ I developed last fall have not waned. It’s completely strange to have one part of your heart hurting so much because FHF and I are on such shaky ground, while another part is thrilled that there’s another person out there who appears to share the same interest in me as I do in him.

For now, I have to put those desires aside; they are not my focus. Instead, they’ll remain my fantasies and hopes. As far as fantasies go, this song speaks fairly strongly to some of my feelings.

If you’re wondering what exactly I mean, more on that later.

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