I haven't had a good night's sleep since Saturday night (and even then, it wasn't long enough at all) - Sunday my mom went into the emergency room after going into anaphylactic shock due to an allergic reaction and I couldn't sleep with the slight worry - I knew she was gonna be fine, but I didn't know. Monday night, I don't know what was up with that, but I didn't sleep well at all either.

And last night, bad night for sleep too: Ben spent the night with me.

Mmmm. Loveliness. It was really quite a time we had. It doesn't feel quite real. And I've got a lot of nervousness going on here - each moment of intimacy we approach gives me pause. This is natural, I think. I found myself constantly pulling back, waiting, I think, for a criticism or insensitivity or some kind of hint of cruelty. I am definitely guarded.

(And this is good, I have to remind myself - I know I can trust myself to take care of myself.)

But we shared a lot of laughter, and things were more fluid. And much passion - when I could handle it, that is. I did pull back a lot - just to breathe sometimes - to catch my bearings. So far, he is very kind, and the kindness is difficult, unfamiliar, wonderful.

I found myself slipping, a lot, into far-too-frequent apologies for my clumsiness, my apprehension. For feeling like I was being a tease for stopping, for needing to slow the pace. I am frustrated to find that there is still this inclination of mine to put myself into this unworldly sex goddess/porn star/nymphomanic posturing that I slip into so easily. And I have this ridiculous performance anxiety when it comes to sex. Last night Ben gently pushed my skirt up and parted my legs to kiss my inner thighs and I gasped with pleasure - and then I immediately tensed up and could not relax and enjoy myself completely because I was constantly aware of how I "should" react.

Yes, lots of baggage I've still got.

But I did begin (baby steps, right?) to allow myself to ride the ebb and flow; to kiss and hold and touch until it was too much, and then it was okay to stop. To breathe. To just be there. To be valuable in my own right, just the way I am, and not because of some kind of bedroom skill I possess.

And you never would know it to listen to me, but it really was a lovely time. To touch and hold and kiss; oh, how I'd forgotten! He would look me in the eye and then kiss me so slowly and whisper "I just can't get enough of you." And he understood when I needed to stop. That meant so very much.