Pretty Lynne Writes

I’m sitting here in the dark. It’s 3:32 am. I have to be up for work in a few hours. Hell, my dog is going to get me up to feed him in a couple of hours. But I can’t sleep. 

I listen to audios at night to go to sleep. Most of the time, I fall asleep before I hear much even happen. Audios are a way to just quiet my brain long enough to let sleep take over. 

Tonight I woke up in the night. I looked at my phone, saw something that was a little upsetting. Let myself be upset for a minute. Had some heartburn. Wondered if I have Tums anywhere; nope. Had a drink of water. Looked for sleep aids and picked one I hadn’t heard before. 

Have you ever had an unexpected emotional experience listening to an audio? It has happened to me a few times. A line from a creator sort of slaps me in the face and I find myself crying. Once, it was Anonyfun saying “you’re going to be okay, baby. You’re going to be just fine.” Once, it was DrRapture saying “you’re my home.”  Once, it was my own words in some else’s mouth. 

Tonight, it was an innocent little aftercare audio. The character said something about this being a time when we both feel good, feel close, and I felt like a ton of bricks hit me. I started to cry, and had to turn off the audio. 

Aftercare, you would think, should come naturally to a sexual relationship. But it never came naturally to my longest relationship. I always wondered why. When I asked why there was so little post-coital warmth, I was met with a blank stare. What was I complaining about, now?

I spent a lot of time in my life wondering what was wrong with me. Why I didn’t deserve to be treated with care, with tenderness. Oh, there was affection, for sure; there were hugs and cups of coffee in the morning. There was food made for me and trips planned and gifts purchased. 

For a long time, I thought those things could be good enough. Could be the proof that I was important to my person. Was someone who mattered. And to some extent they were good enough. Who could complain? Other people didn’t have cups of coffee brought to them in bed. 

But a small voice inside me asked why I didn’t deserve to be cherished. It’s an old-fashioned sounding word but it’s the best one for the job, I think. Why didn’t I deserve those quiet assurances in the dead of night when I woke from a bad dream? Why didn’t I deserve sweet words whispered in my ear after intimate moments? 

Why didn’t I deserve to be held and really fucking loved? 

There is a profound grief when you discover that something so basic was missing from your life for such a long time. There is fear you will never get to experience it. There is anger that you were made to feel the problem lay with you. 

There is anger you stayed so long under those conditions. 

Erotic audio has changed my life in so many ways. I’ve discovered how desire works for me. I’ve learned so much about other people. I’ve rediscovered my creativity and met amazing friends and found a spark in me to perform. Erotic audio has enriched me in a thousand ways. 

But the downside has been these small moments of pain, when you stumble upon something you didn’t know you were missing.  A few sweet or sexy words in your earbuds can shine a light into a dark corner of your life. It can really, really hurt. 

What I’m realizing, sitting here in the dark, is that the problem never did lie with me. I tried to make my person feel loved, hoping some of it would also be reflected back to me. I tried. I tried and tried. I know now what to look for in the future, if I get another chance. 

So. I sit here and let those feelings – the grief, the fear, the anger – move through me. I wipe a few last tears away. I remind myself that I do matter. 

I do deserve to be cherished. We all do. 

I take a moment and set up an extra large pot of coffee to brew in a couple of hours. I tuck myself back into bed, and hope for sleep.