Owning Regina: Diary of my unxpected passion for another woman Read Free

be pissy or sweet. I can be a raving bitch or an adorable angel that everyone loves. I love contrast. Contrast is what makes us whole.
     
    Jenna and Mark could live in San Francisco where they both work. It’s a city with culture and wealth and poverty and lots of contrast. The ocean meets the skyscrapers.  But instead, Jenna and Mark live in Burlingame, a boring suburb where nothing happens. There is no contrast there of any kind. “Pretty good” I guess.
     
    Come to think of it, that's what was going on with Boyfriend X. For a year and a half I couldn't figure him out. Why was he so attracted to me, yet so distant at the same time? But I think he's like Jenna. He is afraid to let it rip. He's afraid to show more colors than tepid grey.  I think he was super attracted to my sweet and pleasant aspects. That's what he wanted me to be all the time. But then, when my burning passion for something would show up, he would withdraw. I could never really be myself. I sensed it. And, trying to make it work, I would curb my wild self. But after about a year, it was getting to me. I felt like I wasn't living a truthful life. I was a closeted mood swinger and thinker. I was always tempered and contained.
     
    Finally, after many vocalized observations from Victoria over cocktails, I discovered that I was, in fact, not living my true personality. So I started to be more of myself. And the more I stepped out, the more BX couldn't roll with it. He started pulling away.  Sex was ridiculous. There was no passion at all. The more I pushed, the more reserved his sex was.
     
    But the thing is, my natural sexual orientation is kinky.  People are born gay, straight, or… kinky. I've always craved wild and dangerous sex. It sounds like a fake cliché, but it's real. I literally can't get turned on without thinking of being tied up or doing it in some shady back alley. The missionary position does nothing for me. When I was a little girl, I remember playing cowboys and indians with the neighbor kid. I always tied him up and would think of ways to torture him. One time, I humiliated him by bringing my littler girlfriend over to see him tied up.  But I think he was kinky too because he kept coming over to play the game. More than a few times, I saw that he had a "stiffy". Ha. That's what we called it.
     
    After having been to a lot of therapy on my own accord as a grown-up to try to figure out this dark side, my awesome therapist, Melissa, helped me see that it really doesn’t matter how I got here. It’s me now. I’m this person. So it can only bring shame and aggravation to try to un-kink myself or to judge my sexuality. In therapy it became crystal clear that I have no inklings of any type of abuse in my past. I was just a regular little girl.
     
    In the “nature versus nurture argument” about what could have contributed to my desire for dark sex, I will tell you this:  In my household, it was like Leave it To Beaver . There was never any room for any emotions other than bright and cheery smiles. There were never fights of any kind.
     
    By contrast, whenever I would visit the home of my little friend Gianna Mastrogiavani (coolest name ever!), her family would have rip-roaring fights at the dinner table.  Someone would end up crying. It scared me at first. But eventually I figured out that by the end of dinner, everyone had made up and they were laughing and hugging and having boisterous conversation together. Then, they may fight again, then back to the laughter. Even as a little girl, I found that to be more realistic. They were letting the emotions flow. They were having a range of feelings. I always wanted to be a Mastrogiavanni. I wanted to express the wild range of emotions that were never allowed in my Clever home.
     
    Then there was “sex” in the Clever home. Well, actually not. The very idea of sex was verboten. It wasn’t that sex was bad; it’s just that it was non-existent, never spoken about.  It was like