Fellows

No Reassurance (An Essay)

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Him: “I know you’ll never give me reassurance.”

And why would I ever need to?

What IS speaks for itself.

(Peep this Mandy Bite)

He spoke of wanting something more solid.

Saying he knows he can’t ask or expect that of me.

And yet…

I’m as solid as can be (energetically).

He can always count on ME.

But his human wanted something concrete.

In the physical world of make-believe.

Where nothing is solid.

Where security can’t be found.

Not in a thing.

Not in another.

Just in the space one cannot claim.

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The Intimate Gallery of Us (An Essay)

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as he and i deepen exponentially

it inevitably eclipses that which doesn’t hit as deep

there’s been this narrowing

a honing in

a natural devotion to THIS

and last night

a stunning and mind blowing masterpiece

was added to the intimate gallery of us

and all i knew was stay here

because here with him

is truth

and when i left his place to go dancing

to be the Mandy i’ve always been

i left this man

for the very first time

as his

and he

as mine

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His Moves Are Not My Business (An Essay)

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Months ago while telling a friend about a moment with the fella that I was a HELL NAW to, she asked if I help a guy to shift the things that I’m not into, or if I just end things because of it.

My response:

I only do what the moment requires of me.

Whatever that may be.

Me making my true move does exactly what needs to be done.

Across the board.

With everyone.

(Peep this Mandy Bite)

I dropped deal breakers / boundaries / standards long ago.

They aren’t necessary.

And no, I don’t ‘help’ the fella shift his shit because that, too, is unnecessary.

He’s grown.

And his moves are not my business.

He can be however he wants to be.

I’ll make my moves accordingly.

(Peep this Mandy Bite)

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A Dance Of Two Who Are Moving As One (An Essay)

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I wanted to start this post with, “I had the best SEX ever last night.”

Because that’s how I describe whatever truly hits my spot.

The best (fill in the blank) ever.

Because in the moment, that’s how it feels.

Floating in heaven.

Nothing can top THIS.

But more accurately, it’s just another delicious experience of presence and truth which always feels like heaven.

Yummy.

Delicious.

Swoon.

And as we played, it was so quiet.

So still.

Even amongst the sounds and movements.

It was the most natural dance with another.

With myself.

Through the other who is me.

A dance so fluid I didn’t notice the moves.

I only felt the dance.

(read this poem)

I can’t even say that the SEX keeps getting better, deeper, richer…

because that would imply it was less so the first night and that wasn’t the case at all.

We moved beautifully and seamlessly and magically then as well.

Because presence in the NOW is as deep as it gets.

Playing for the first time EVERY time.

Why show up for less?

We’ve never replicated previous scenes.

Nor have we tried to create one.

Art is made in the moment.

Last night, another masterpiece.

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