Hi, S:
The box with the movies was waiting on the front porch when we got home at about 6 p.m. on Monday. Thanks!
Yes, we got home a full day earlier than I had planned. But there were reasons for that.
I decided to head for home Monday because my wife did not take to (the neopagan event) at all. She had said before that she wasn't going because of the event itself--she just wanted to be with me. And I told you how I reacted to that: Instead of the joy and hope that she would get to know some new people and build relationships and reach some deeper understanding of life,
I just didn't have a good feeling about it. After all, I have lived with her for all these years, so I have a pretty good idea how she ticks. Remember what I wrote last time? "I really wonder whether she can free herself from her hangups enough to enjoy herself. Time will tell."
Here is what time told.
We arrived at about 5 p.m. on Saturday, about an hour later than I hoped--mis-estimated the distance--and we arrived on a picturesque scene. It was sunny and warm, and a henna workshop was taking place at the main shelter. Most of the people there were naked or bare to the waist, putting the henna designs on each other. We confirmed our arrival, talked for a few minutes and then went out to set up the tent. It took a while, but we got it done.
From there, back to the shelter. The henna stuff had been put away, and there was going to be a discussion. As people gathered for that, there were soft rumbles of thunder that kept getting louder. Before long, the area was getting drenched, with heavy rain and even some hail. The rainstorm lasted a good half hour, and with the metal roof of the shelter, any philosophical discussion was impossible until conditions eased.
The area got soaked pretty good, but only a little rain sneaked in through the tent door because I hadn't completely closed a zipper--I did close all the screens, though. Very minor flood, easily contained.
After the discussion, we stayed up there, and the drums came out for a drum and dancing session at about 10 p.m. The shelter isn't the best place for that because of the gravel floor--most dancers wanted to be barefoot.
If you remember (priestess) from last year, (event organizer) asked her to talk to my wife about this, feeling that (priestess) would be very good, since she is a practicing pagan--and also a practicing Catholic! It was partly orientation, about the group, and partly about her own spiritual path. While they were talking, one of the festively (and barely) clad ladies (mid 40s/early 50s, Reubensesque) asked me to come and dance, and I joined her. Since she was barefoot, we tried to keep her on one of several quilts that had been spread out.
She gave me a nice hug at the end, and I was excited. When I went to bed, I had a hard time getting to sleep, thinking that maybe we could "grow closer" before the camp ended. My erection was wide awake as I tried to sleep. My wife, meanwhile, was "sound" asleep. Several times when she was breathing into my ear, I tried to get her to roll over. She finally did. Did not get a lot of sleep.
So far, things were still on the tracks. Saturday went differently, and I'm not sure where it got derailed. But I know I volunteered to go to town to get some stuff from the store--from pot scrubbers to gallons of water to lots of ice--and a woman who had been naked much of Saturday (skinny, 40s) wanted to go along--she had some stuff she wanted to get for her and her daughter. I didn't think my wife would have minded, and I certainly wasn't attracted to her that way. But we were gone for about an hour to 90 minutes, and now I wonder. Anyway, when I got back, she was at one of the discussions in the picnic shelter, and I joined her--alas, I had missed most of it.
Then there was a potluck lunch at the shelter, a get-together, and lots of foods--we had brought some yellow corn all-natural tortilla chips that seemed to go over well. Schedules, as usual, were very approximate and ambiguous. "Pagan Standard Time." Some of the people left--others sat around and talked.
The sun was out that afternoon--hardly a cloud in the sky--and it was getting hot and humid. Most people were doing the logical thing to keep cool. Like most of the women, I had my top off, and I thought my wife would like to cool off, too--we were sitting on chairs in the shade, hoping for a little breeze. So I tried to pull up her top to expose her breasts a little. She allowed one breast to show for about 30 seconds, and then she pulled the top back down again. Then I suggested that I could rub her back, and she said OK. But she was way in front of me on that one, for she pulled the front of her top under her breasts and anchored it there with her arms.
As that little drama played itself out, all around us women were walking around topless or totally nude without a care in the world.
(Priestess) (late 50s, graying hair, glasses) came over and talked with us again. We (I did nearly all the talking) discussed more about her spiritual path and how she aligns her Catholic beliefs with the Church of All Worlds beliefs regarding sexuality and polyamory and that the divine lives in each of us and acceptance of the body. She was wearing only a sarong around her waist, and at one point I think she asked my wife if she wanted to remove her top. She said no.
Then I asked (priestess) something that had really been bothering me--advice on how to meet new people in an area that is up-tight and narrow-minded, located far from any major population center or university. If I don't open up to people, how do I make any new friends? And if I do step out of the closet, what if it's the wrong person, someone who doesn't accept the concept of responsible non-monogamy and is highly indignant about what I am trying to do?
But that was about the time (priestess) was called away to a rehearsal for the main ritual. I never got an acceptable answer on that. (And, in fairness to her, how could she answer a question like that, since she lived first in a major metro area with a CAW group for years and now in a university town? It's a situation she has never had to worry about since a small, rural area is like another world to her. My world.
It was during that talk that my wife acknowledged she wasn't having a good time. And that's when the reality of the situation started sinking in. It totally changed my mood. I just got very sad and quiet and thoughtful. I stopped visiting and talking with others. I brooded about it, and finally decided there was only one thing to do. I asked her that evening while waiting for the main ritual to start: "Do you want to get a head start on the trip home?"
You see, I've been married to her all these years, so I know her pretty well. Would she have been happier being somewhere she didn't want to be and feeling sorry for herself? Or would she have been happier going home a day early, sleeping in a real bed and playing with her kittycats? In the end, I decided that her happiness is more important than mine--even when it breaks my heart. I mean, I've been waiting for this weekend for one frickin' year! Doesn't my happiness matter?
She had agreed to take part in the main ritual, and (priestess) loaned her one of her sarongs--she explained the many different ways it can be worn. My wife decided she would wear hers around her waist, over her shorts. Like an overskirt or something. You know ... like, what's the point?
But we attended the ritual, which was a very nice one. After that, we had a fireworks show produced by one of the kids--I think you missed that last year. Then, there was one final event left that day: drumming and dancing in the main circle.
My wife knows me well enough to know when I am angry and trying not let it show. And I can see when she's tired, because she needs lots of sleep. We went to the tent and got her changed for bed. She hugged me and seemed to be trying to say something. But no words came out. Maybe she was near tears. I don't know, and I didn't really care. I gave her a short good-night kiss, zipped the tent shut behind me and walked away, down to the main circle.
After a huge disappointment like I had, I was hoping I'd at least have some fun during my final night, with the drumming and dancing. Maybe I could connect with that woman from the night before, and we could break away for some hugging and kissing. Believe me, I was really ready to hug and kiss another woman! And if the opportunity arose, so would I.
I really don't know what happened with the drumming. For one thing, that woman never showed up. Many of the others didn't show up, either. There were about a dozen at the fire, and the only thing most of us did was watch the fire. We had some very quiet drumming for a few minutes, but not even close to the volume and enthusiasm from the night before at the shelter. Then people talked among themselves, then one was playing and singing songs, accompanying herself on her guitar.
Another woman was nearby. We had talked the night before for a while--and also last year. She was sitting quietly, her drum in front of her. Maybe, I thought, we could hold hands, if nothing else. I moved closer. But she had dozed off and decided she'd better head for bed. A few minutes later, I did too. I was weary, and that was overcoming my other feelings.
Sunday was pretty straightforward. I started rounding my stuff up and organizing it for the trip home. At one point, though, I talked to that woman from the dance. Told her that dancing with her made me very happy. Said that though we can't do it this time, I'd want to talk to her more someday and get to know her. She said she is trying to avoid "involvements" and talked about some of the stuff she is doing. We left with a short hug and kiss--though in our 60-second talk, I could never steer the topic around to an exchange of e-mail addresses. In view of everything else, that was pretty far down on the list of disappointments.
My wife and I had to talk while organizing the tear-down of the camp and loading the car. The tension was less. By now, I had resigned myself to leaving long before I wanted to. I am very used to disappointments involving her. So I am also used to dealing with it, too.
I wrote (event organizer) earlier today. Told him, "It's not a good relationship, for however long it has lasted. I bet you can guess how incredibly dull our sex life is. I don't want to get into that, except to say that I was hoping fervently one of the good ladies at Sweetwood would be willing to take me into her arms and her bed/sleeping bag. Or at least some friendly petting, Unfortunately, I was "tied down" through most of the time I was there and never really had much of a chance to do anything like that. ...
"For myself, I have to accept the fact (again) that she can't change the way she is and doesn't want to try. So I have to let her be the way she is happiest. But the other side of that coin is that I have to be the way I am and satisfy my deep, basic needs in whatever way I can. And I will!"
In terms of age, I am 56 and she is 55. But between the ears, in our attitudes towards life and lust for new experiences and excitement, I am 35 or 40, and she is 70 or 75.
I am growing. She is not. I still love her, but ... there have to be changes.
Anyway, I had just gotten home Monday night and eventually checked e-mails and saw you had written. And here is one thing you wrote:
"(My husband) and I got an invite to a private invite-only skyclad campground. We went last weekend and had a blast! At first it was strange to him, but everyone was so relaxed and friendly that he soon adapted just fine. We are looking forward to going again."
This is the same man whose religious views were so strict and fundamentalist earlier. Your quarrels over your differing religious views led you to leave him. And now you have taken him to a skyclad campground--and you both had a great time.
But that's because (your husband) was willing to try something new. He was willing to bend. Oh, S, how much I envy you!!! Can we work out a brain transplant or something?
I've got a lot of thinking to do. Wish me luck.
Love,
Peter
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