“…pleasure is not a ‘nice to have.’ It’s a ‘need to have.” — from the Netflix series, The Principles of Pleasure.
During spring, my desires awaken. Like the earth defrosting in the warm sun from the extended daylight, I too unthaw and heat up, begin to have cravings and appetites that slumbered during our Midwestern winters. My senses are enhanced. I observe more couples outdoors in the neighborhood, taking romantic walks, holding hands, some with dogs and children in tow. Following is a poem that captures the itchy restlessness of spring fever.
Spring Fever
Spring tides ebb and flow,
surge and crest,
flowering bulbs begin
to inch their way to daylight,
dormancy ends as shoots
break through the frost line
while the sun’s infrared heat
vibrates with a frequency that
radiates energy, liquefying
winter’s frozen mantle.You can smell the earth,
the vernal muskiness of life awakening.
I wake earlier too and rise before dawn
to see the morning light in pink
and periwinkle hues, wispy clouds
like crinoline scrims across the horizon.
As the sun shines directly on the equator,
day and night become equal, the Spring Equinox arrives.An itchy restlessness overcomes me;
it’s time to be reborn,
rethink my choices, ask the big questions,
the who am I, where am I’m going,
what does it all mean — mind wandering,
soul wondering, seeking.The natural world ignites
my limbic brain like match to wick.
I’m fired up. I burn brighter,
as body memories spark emotions,
motivate movement.
My body craves raw foods, nuts and seeds,
leafy vegetables, red meat.
I forage for the fuel to drive me.
Desires and appetites grow unsated,
I want, I want, I want.
I am, I am
alive.
In a March 2017 musing from my blog, Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!, The Itchy Restlessness of Spring Fever, I wrote the following:
One of the itches I scratch when spring fever hits is the restlessness that’s a byproduct of the isolation that winter in a northern climate creates. I want to get outside, be with people, get active again. Though I have a pretty abundant and fulfilling social life, which includes friends, family, and workplace colleagues, and social change and writing groups, as a single person, I begin yearning again for an intimate, romantic relationship. This desire increases when couples become more visible outdoors, holding hands, and acting like new lovers.
I began drafting this blog post on Saturday, April 2nd after prewriting it in my head, after I watched the limited-series, The Principles of Pleasure and the documentary, The Dilemma of Desire, which along with the changing season, inspired this musing. It’s snowing as if it were January or early February. Had this happened on April 1, people would have called this a cruel April Fool’s joke. Instead, in Wisconsin, it was sunny with clear blue skies. Today, as referred to in the popular meme, it’s our ‘third winter.’
Awakening Desire Backstory
First, a little background for people who are new visitors to my blog and don’t know me. I live in Madison, Wisconsin, the eldest of six children from a blue-collar, working-class family from Racine, Wisconsin. I’m 72-years-old, and a lesbian in recovery for over 35 years from alcohol, substances and behaviors that no longer serve me. I consider my politics to be progressive and left. I’m a community-activist, writer, poet, cinephile and emerging filmmaker. I work for an LGBTQ+ community center as an AODA Advocate. I recently completed my WI Certified Peer-Specialist training and I support others who are still struggling by sharing my lived experience.
When I was young, beginning about 12-years-old, I began having crushes and romantic feelings for both boys and girls. The first person I touched as my youthful, inexperienced, pre-adolescent desire awakened, was a young female classmate. I began obsessing about her budding breasts and the day she wore the robin’s egg blue angora sweater; I couldn’t resist any longer. I forged a plan to ‘accidently’ touch her breasts. Oh, my!
Since it was the early 1960’s, I received the ‘birds & bees’ talk by my parents in my bedroom, with Mom and Dad sitting across from me on my sister’s bed. Dad did most of the talking. I heard the basics from his heteronormative, male, and fatherly point of view. Simply, “…boys are going to want to get in ‘my pants’ (yes, that was the euphemism he used) because they have strong sexual urges, and it was my job as a ‘good girl,’ who planned on marrying to remain a virgin.” Mom was quiet and I suspect it was because, as the eldest, I was aware that when Mom was 16, and Dad, 18, Mom got pregnant before they married. I was conceived on my maternal grandmother’s couch.
Mom and Dad loved each other, married and I was born five months later. They remained married for 67 years until my mother died. Mom and Dad were each other’s soulmates, lovers, and best friends. There were challenging years, characterized by histories of my father’s paternal parental abandonment and bigamy, and on both maternal and paternal sides, alcoholism, plus a maternal history of suicide ideation, suicide, and early death. After six children and a granddaughter they both helped to raise, and after Mom went to recovery for alcoholism, their life improved and they enjoyed their remaining years.
Relationship & Identity History (Abbreviated Version)
I dated boys in middle school and high school, yet still had crushes on certain girls, who were smart, vivacious, and innocently (or, not) flirtatious! I didn’t act on the attractions. I filed the information away. I had a couple of physically intimate relationships with young men that did not include intercourse. I was actually proposed to twice while still in high school. Both young men were draft age during the Vietnam War.
The first proposed to me when he graduated from high school a year ahead of me. When I said no, he enlisted in the Navy. The second proposed to me after boot camp in the Army. He was medically discharged, and returned home hoping to rekindle our relationship. Instead, when I rejected him a second time, he began dating my sister Roz, who was two years younger than me.
I fell ‘in love’ and lust when I met Frank at college. He became my first true love. Frank awakened my desire and after both of us dropped out of college and lived a hippie communal lifestyle, we married. And yes, if you’re keeping track, I was a virgin until I met Frank, though we didn’t wait until we married. Read more in First Taste of Freedom.
Fast forward a couple of years. After we married, we moved to Kenosha, Wisconsin to find jobs. Frank worked at Anaconda Brass and I at Jockey International. We settled into our young married working lives. Frank was a duplicate bridge and poker player. Two or three times a week he played cards with his friends. I busied myself with cooking, baking bread, playing women’s rec softball and reading the new Ms. Magazine and the feminist treatises of the time.
At Jockey, I met Gloria, as in G-L-O-R-I-A. I was immediately smitten. We became fast friends and scheduled a weekly date at my place when Frank was playing cards. We spent the evening talking, listened to music, including Bette Midler’s Do You Want to Dance, which became our song (and the question we euphemistically asked each other), while we smoked a little pot and drank wine. Gloria was a lesbian and partnered, I was married and questioning. Gloria had long raven hair, and the only hint that she was a lesbian and a soft butch woman was her confidence and sailor’s swagger.
Gloria and I began going out together to bars in Milwaukee, and her favorite pizza restaurants in her hometown and former stomping grounds in Grayslake and Libertyville, IL. One weekend, we triple-dated attending the Bristol Renaissance Faire together, Gloria and her girlfriend, another work friend and her husband, and Frank and I. I was falling in love and lust with Gloria and she with me. Oh, my!
The dilemma of my awakening desire came to a head one weekend. Frank was travelling to a bridge tournament for the weekend. I asked if he minded that I invite Gloria over for a sleepover for the weekend to keep me company. He didn’t. I believe he was happy that I had a friendship that filled my time so he could be free to pursue his hobbies. Little did he know how intense both the emotional intimacy and physical desire was growing between Gloria and I. An excerpt from My Butch Girlfriends:
Gloria and I never consummated our relationship. We mutually agreed, by default, that we weren’t ready for me to leave my husband, and for her to leave her partner, Deb. I made a geographic escape (with Frank) to Madison to return to school, but in reality, I needed to put miles between Gloria and I so I wouldn’t act on my desire. I wasn’t ready yet.
A byproduct of my time with Gloria was that I knew I needed more women in my life. It was the beginning of the second wave of feminism and I became involved in conscious-raising groups, first attending, then facilitating. Suddenly I was surrounded by strong women-identified-women who were exploring relationships, some with each other outside of their marriages and partnerships.
Gloria and her new girlfriend, a tennis phenom from Lake Forest, IL visited Frank and I in Madison and we double-dated for a Bette Midler Clams on the Half Shell concert in 1974. Gloria and her girlfriend stayed the night with us and slept in the guest bedroom. I was ‘beside myself’ and questioned my decision to not act on my desire when I had the opportunity. It was the last time I saw Gloria. I often wish I could find her and reconnect.
Frank and I fell into a routine. We had our work life, and for pleasure, we attended concerts, pizza and movie dates, joined card-playing friend, Suey, who owned The Golden Dragon restaurant with his family, and his partner Grace for dinners and drinks at the restaurant. Frank and I visited both our families in Racine, and hosted my family in our home for UW Badger Football Games and for an annual July 4th vacation. Frank continued to play duplicate bridge and poker, while I became active in the Feminist Consciousness-Raising (CR) movement for the National Organization for Women (NOW).
I met Catherine at a Woman and Law Conference at the University of Wisconsin. Our booths were next to each other. I ‘womaned’ the NOW booth, Catherine the Lysistrata booth. Another excerpt from My Butch Girlfriends:
We talked all day and I was mesmerized by this long dark-haired woman with ice blue eyes and porcelain, freckled skin who passionately spoke about the feminist-restaurant collective, Lysistrata, she was launching. We broke down our booths and Catherine asked me to join her at a private party at the Edgewater Hotel. Without pause I said yes. She squired me the rest of the evening, the palm of her hand resting in the small of my back, guiding me to our destinations. We moved from the party to her white Alfa Romero convertible for a top-down drive under the stars, to an early morning breakfast at the Curve Restaurant, finally delivering me to my door, when she said with unbridled certainty, “I want to see you again.”
I both dreaded and wished for this moment to come. I had neglected to tell Catherine I was a married to a man. Almost pushing me out of the car, she declared, “Call me when you get rid of him.” I did call her a couple of weeks later and told her that I didn’t “get rid of him,” yet I desperately wanted to see her. We made a date for an evening of wine and dinner in her basement apartment where she seduced me and I surrendered completely, soon discovering that I was home where I was always meant to be, in the bed and the arms of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and how to please a woman. My surprise was how natural it was to love another woman and how capable I was as her lover.
Our secret affair was short-lived. Frank confronted me and I was honest with him. Afterwards, we ‘opened’ our relationship which was a trend during this pre-AIDs time. Frank accepted my attraction to women and we agreed that if I was open and honest, I could see women as long as he was the only man in my life.
I developed a romantic friendship with one of my CR colleagues, a photographer, Megan, and we went out on dates at Lysistrata, our first was NYE when Lysistrata first opened. That evening I went out to dinner at The Fess Hotel with Frank, Suey, and Grace, then afterwards Megan picked me up for our date to ring in the New Year. Our song was Joan Armatrading’s Love & Affection. Many people who saw Megan and I together assumed we were lovers. We did love each other, were very affectionate yet never became sexually intimate. Megan had a number of relationships with men and women, some who financially supported her photography.
Megan, Self-Portrait
Fast forward, after another affair, this time with Mary from my CR group, Frank and I were struggling to maintain our relationship. On our 7th wedding anniversary, Frank suggested that we separate and decide whether I wanted to have an exclusive relationship with him, or not. I knew in that moment, I would never return to him, yet I didn’t have the courage to tell him. I moved out, sublet a small apartment a block away from Lysistrata, and continued my relationship with Mary and romantic friendship with Megan.
Portrait of Mary by Megan Campbell
My coming out to my family, friends, and coworkers followed, though my drinking became a problem as an unhealthy coping mechanism. Mary and I moved in to our own apartment and eventually we separated. I had a series of affairs, short-lived relationships, and a partnership with a woman with whom I co-parented her son until my drinking became a relationship-ending issue. We separated and I went into outpatient treatment for alcoholism.
Fast forward to the present, on the advice of my A.A. sponsor, I didn’t date or get involved in any intimate physical or romantic relationships for a year. I began dating after a year, exploring how to be in a relationship, sober. I had my first longer-term, sober relationship for four years including as a co-parent of a young girl, followed by a relationship for a year with a musician and physical therapy student 20 years younger, and finally, after attending a Healthy Lesbian Therapy Group, met my partner, Cindy. We were together for 12 or 13 years depending on how you count (see link at the end of the essay to Fifteen Valentines). I’ve lived alone since we separated, as a singleton for 13 years, which brings us to present day.
The Principles of Pleasure & The Dilemma of Desire
Now that I’ve overshared about my personal intimate relationships, if you still remain on this circuitous storytelling journey with me, we finally arrive at the heart of this musing. Every spring, these past 13 years since I’ve lived a singleton life, I begin to question why I’m not in an intimate physical relationship. I begin ‘comparing my insides, with everyone’s outsides.’ Most of my family, close friends, work colleagues and seemingly the larger community, are in committed romantic relationships or marriages. Everyone appears happy and enjoying coupledom. I question why I’m not in a relationship, though for the most part I’m happy, except I ask myself these questions…
“Is there something wrong with me?” “Why have I not found my person?” “Have I aged out of sexual relationships?”
These questions, and more, arise at the same time my desires awaken. In the past, I’ve dated. I attended a lesbian dating seminar, not once but twice (apparently, I needed a refresher). I’ve had crushes, wrote love poetry, and I’ve been accused of flirting. Last year, representatives of the Madison Fire Department arrived at my workplace in their firetrucks and ambulance, dressed in their uniforms, to present a donation check and take a group photo, and my colleagues commented that I flirted with everyone, men and women. I have to admit it was true. There’s something about men and women in uniform. Oh, my!
Madison Fire Department Local 311
Often, dating evokes more questions than provides answers, as expressed in my poem below:
Queer Questions
Friends or more, lovers or less, what are we?
I have more questions than answers,
more fear than fortitude.
I’m out of practice, far removed from beginnings.
So much time spent on good-byes,
I‘m missing the hellos,
a novice again in this dance
of dating and mating,
of the sex and love refrain.
Friends or more, lovers or less, what are we?
As my desire awakens in the spring, I realize that my senses are enhanced, sight, smell, hearing, taste, and touch. The latter is what I crave most this time of year. I’ve experienced skin hunger during the past two years of the pandemic, and I’ve missed affectionate, sensual, healing, and sexual touch. Yes, I’m touch deprived.
My senses become more fine-tuned in the spring. The quality of daylight changes due to the relationship of the earth to the sun and moon. I can smell the vernal muskiness of the earth. Scientists describe it as follows: “The start of spring has an unmistakable, yet unplaceable smell. It’s a bit reminiscent of dirt, but there’s something else beneath the surface, evocative of rainy days or afternoons spent gardening.” I hear the birds sing, especially early in the morning. My appetite changes, as I crave and savor both the sweet and saltiness of the foods I choose, preferring more raw foods, leafy greens and fruits, nuts, and seeds, and lastly, I desire touch.
The Netflix three-episode, limited-series, The Principles of Pleasure, also ignited my desires. Each episode focused on a topic:
Episode 1 – Our Relationships: “From turn-ons and turn-offs to context and consent, there’s a lot to navigate when one invites a partner into one’s pleasure journey.”
Episode 2 – Our Bodies: “Unpacking the secrets of eroticism, the effects of hormones and the profound links between bodies and minds.”
Episode 3 – Our Minds: “Peeling back centuries of taboos and misconceptions to uncover the truth about female orgasms — and the many paths to physical pleasure.”
I learned a lot from the series (click on a link at the end of this post to access the series). It also prompted me to consider planning a ‘toy’ shopping date. Yes, though I’ve not had partner sex for a l-o-n-g time, I continue to have a healthy, self-pleasuring relationship.
From the Principles of Pleasure
The series educated me about the science of pleasure, how our brains, hormones, and senses interact and spark connections in our brain and responses in our body. There are happiness chemicals that can be replenished when we experience deficits. By understanding how our bodies and minds works in concert, we can take actions to achieve happiness, pleasure, and balance.
Sexual pleasure in our culture does not happen in a vacuum and traditionally hasn’t been an equal 
opportunity experience. The Showtime documentary (see link at the end of this post) The Dilemma of Desire, looked at the subject from a political, feminist consciousness-raising, and artistic perspective. From the Showtime website, “Filmmaker Maria Finitzo explores how patriarchal forces have stigmatized female sexuality for centuries, and highlights the pleasure-focused activists fighting to set new sex-positive standards.”
What Does It All Mean?
The takeaway for me from my awakening desires and itchy restlessness every spring function simply as reminders that I’m alive and have desires and appetites. I return to an excerpt from my poem, Spring Fever:
The natural world ignites
my limbic brain like match to wick.
I’m fired up. I burn brighter,
as body memories spark emotions,
motivate movement.Desires and appetites grow unsated,
I want, I want, I want.
I am, I am
Though winter in Wisconsin lingers like a bad mood, my desires awaken and I’m alive and well.
Credit: Fotografiska NY
Related Reading from Mixed Metaphors, Oh My!
Conversations w/My Next Girlfriend: Episode 10
Sexagenarian Dating in the Midwest
The Itchy Restlessness of Spring Fever
Seasons/Change (Collected Poems)
Crush(ed) Infatuation, Fantasy and Desire
Additional Reading, Viewing, & Listening on Awakening Desire