kitandkat.com

My Dear Kat,

Yes, yes, it’s Valentine’s Day, but you have enough of that elsewhere.

Instead, I want to explain exactly what we are trying to do here.  You see, gentle readers, Kat and I are so very content with each other in a way that few other couples are, and we think that this model is uncommon in today’s world.  Instead, the talk is all of struggle, of gender wars, of having to work on the relationship, that men are from Mars and women are from Venus.

We aren’t like that.

And if we aren’t like that, it means it doesn’t have to be that way.

It’s only that way if you make it that way.  It is nothing to do with your partner; it takes two to argue.  You can disagree on what to do without arguing; even if your partner does, you needn’t participate.

So here, we’re trying to give a sense of what life is like when an alternative style is chosen, and to say that yes, it’s not a myth, it can be done.

Just do it.

Kit

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My Dear Kat,

This morning we spoke of people who act like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  We have both had partners like this.  One moment, everything is fine, then POW!  Something sets them off, and someone unrecognized appears: maybe hysterical, maybe furious, maybe withdrawn.

There are several ways we react to this.  One is to defend against the attack, to fight back, to deny the accusations.  A second is to feel guilty, to feel the attack is justified in some way.  Maybe I should have called her back?  Maybe I shouldn’t have said that?  It’s easy to react this way because sometimes we do screw up, and in such cases, this is the only way out.  A third way is to try and fix it, to do whatever it takes, because she is your partner and she is in pain, and because you want normal service to resume as soon as possible.

It was with A., a very volatile partner, that I first noticed the rock.  When she got angry, I wouldn’t let my self get dragged in.  I would not let myself be affected by it.  Oh, there were times it went on so long that I reacted in anger at the whole mess, but in general, I could just let it wash over me, could wait it out.

– – – – – – –

I write about all this because we don’t do it.  Ever.  In its place is a constancy, one that we both remarked on after getting to know each other.  I love the consistency.  Of course there is variability: sometimes you are tired or ill or quiet, but I never feel that you have changed in how you see me.  This knowledge is so very peaceful and calming.  Thank you.

Kit

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My Dear Kat,

I want to talk about how sex is between us.  It’s fabulous, it’s instant, it’s mutual and it’s shared.

By fabulous, I mean that it’s breath-taking; time and time again, we go to places and achieve highs that we never did before.  I’m not talking about the physical positions; they don’t seem to have much to do with it.  It’s a strong sense that wow, we never danced like this before, we’re going hand-in-hand (maybe make that gland-in-gland) down paths we’ve never been before.  Afterwards, the experience seems so other-worldly, it can be hard to believe it actually happened.

By instant, I mean that the sexual energy emerges full-blown: pow, there it is!  We’re in this place again.  There’s no contradiction with what I’ve just said about each time being different; these two things exist simultaneously.  That’s just the way it is.

Then there is the magical way it’s mutual.  I get turned on, and you respond, and I respond to that, and it’s 0-60 in 5 seconds again.  It happens nearly every time.  Oh, occasionally the other fails to respond due to tiredness or illness, but that causes no grief; we merely flow into a different place.

This mutuality is magical because of its improbability, because it says that I touch you, I affect you, because it is wonderful to be seen and to have my sexual needs so ecstatically met.  And we synchronize like this not just sexually, but also with most other things we do together; we rapidly find the choice that accommodates both our needs.  We do this by being present, by wanting the best for the other, by not clinging to our ideas of how things should be.

Lastly, the experience is so self-evidently shared.  We move together, responding to each other, becoming the junction between the two of us, treating that skin like our own, each our side of the fence, but holding hands through the railing, proof positive of the other, touching and merging to be us together at the same time as remaining completely myself.  I have nowhere in my cosmology to place this, yet there it is.  Not just once or twice, but again and again, over and above my sense of self, that sense of us.

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