On Why the Saga of J is Doomed to Remain Incomplete

One of the first things I ever began writing on this blog was The Saga of J. (Part one, part two, and part the third.)Not a month goes by that someone doesn't email me or ask me to finish the fucking thing. I've kept thinking, "Oh, maybe I'll get around to it," but you know what? I won't. I simply will not. Now it's a choice, not an inevitability. Ain't gonna happen, boys and girls.

When I was writing the story last summer, I was in a course that had me fired up and remembering the Gloried Days of Old. I began to realize I was living in the past with some idealized memory of something that wasn't necessarily all I was touting it to be.

The thing with memories is that they're always stronger than they probably ought to be, and the thing with the present is it's always less appreciated than it ought to be. At the time, when I hooked up with J, it was pretty intense. What I didn't know then was, he was lying. He wasn't single. He was going out with a friend of mine and having some relationship issues. He told me they'd been done for some time, and since I hadn't seen her, I believed him. But then things were complicated by the fact that he'd been casually pursuing me for two years by then.

"BUT WHAT HAPPENED, STEFF?!" What you probably need to know is, within the next five minutes after the point where Saga of J Pt. 3 ends, an errant ice cube found its way between my legs and inside me just as J was leaning in for a kiss, me still bound and blindfolded, and I reacted with my whole body. I sprung up, my head rocketing forward, me all shocked and cold, and our mouths collided. I chipped a tooth, and he bloodied his lips where I cut him.

The sex pretty much ended then, since I'd been so jarred out of the moment with the errant ice cube. He untied me while we had a good laugh, then hung out examining my injuries in the bathroom before we playfully headed into the shower and lathered each other up. That was that.

We had a few more sexual encounters that week, both our parents being out of town, and by the end of it, well, it was the end. A lot of sex, a short period, a good friendship. We were never friends again. I've spoke to him once in probably the 12 - 13 years that have lapsed since then.

When I was writing parts 3 and the never-gonna-hit-daylight part 4, I had just ended a tawdry and short-lived relationship that really evoked a lot of what I'd had with J. This was a brief and intensely sexual affair I had last October. The sex was fucking incredible, and probably remains the best of my life. We both had had a hard year or so of being sexually denied and we took it out on each other time and time and time again, in very, very good ways.

That short-lived relationship ended rapidly after one particular orgasm when he was kneeled looking down at me on the floor with this blissed-out grin, and -- WHAM -- I could've sworn I was looking up at my brother. Spitting fucking image, man. It creeped me right out and I lost all attraction towards him. Then came another guy on the heels of him, someone I had an intellectual connection with but couldn't get passionate about, despite wanting to feel that way towards him. Suddenly, I was lost and confused in the realm of sex again. So, I wrote more about J, living out an old "safer" and "less complicated" part of my life.

But, suddenly, I felt it was unhealthy, and I really couldn't give a fuck if people all over the place want the end of the story.

And finally, another reason is, I just don't want to reveal exact particulars about my sex life to you people ever again. No offense. It just feels wrong. I don't mind alluding. I don't mind mentioning brief snippets, but to lay out a whole tale from start to finish just feels incredibly violating. It really does. I can't do it. I won't. Prices get paid and lessons get learned.

(No, I'm not swearing off writing about sex again. How I've been writing since December's right on target with what I'm comfortable with. The Saga crosses the line. Very much so. I have repeatedly considered deleting it, but on principle will not do so.)

Whatever you may think of me, there are aspects of myself I've probably never told anyone and probably never will. This is a challenging forum -- being open but not splayed is a hard balance to attain. Somewhere along the way, writing that story, a boundary became apparent that I no longer wanted to cross. And when it comes to boundaries, you get to decide which ones to respect. Well, I have chosen.

And now it doesn't help, either, that an old friend has crawled out of the woodwork who happened to be J's longtime ex-girlfriend (and not the one he cheated on to be with me, thank god) and who happens to have been reading me for some untold length of time now. It's strange to learn of that.

So, moral of the story? You know what you need to know, and no, that story is not being written for you, but aside from the few details I've shared, is kept locksafe inside now. I'm just not that kind of girl after all, it seems. There's only so much kissing and telling I'm willing to do. Who knew?