thekitchendough - Tumblr blog

[thekitchendough]

I should not taste shame when i think of that night

I did not taste shame when your lips looked for mine in the dark

It was not shame I felt when your breath was hot against my skin

Or when you gripped the flesh I hide away

It’s not fair that my mind uses shame to hide the fact that i wanted a hundred more nights like this

I hid behind shame because It’s not what you wanted

So my skin burns when i think of our bodies spilling over the other; warm, rapid, lonely.

[thekitchendough]

There was a me before you, I want her back!

[thekitchendough]

I think I might’ve figured out what upsets me so much about this.

You waited until I let my guard down and felt easy just to board up your walls and lay out your rules.

Just friends or not, that was a sh*tty move!

[thekitchendough]

[thekitchendough]

It’s empty isn’t it?

I told you it would taste like nothing, feel like nothing.

[thekitchendough]

What's the worst that could happen when you open yourself up to someone?

I am watching The Idea of You on prime for the 2nd time. Hayes Campbell and Solène just talked about the pain of Daniel's infidelity - Solène's ex-husband. So I quickly took a mental trip to the worst thing that could happen here.

Well. You could learn that you are thinking about the boy from the theatre more often than you like. You could find yourself feeling irrationally upset when there is distance between you two. You could also learn a year later that he thought about you too and was intentional about the distance. Instead of sitting up, back straight, feet up and ready to go - you find yourself kissing him hours after he's read poetry to you to help you sleep. You kiss his pretty eyes. You hold his newly braided hair and run your finger through each cornrow. You flinch when he bites your lower lip a little too hard and you collapse into his arms time and time again until the morning’s crow. He asks you to stay, begs you to call in sick, exhales in your ear and calls you a name he has never used before. It all feels new and these might be the arms you wait all day to run into.

Then he doesn't call after you leave for work. He doesn't call when you're home from work. He leaves a note about how he is so sleepy (because you two didn't get any sleep the night before). You go out with a friend and call him an hour after. You call him because you thought of him every second after you left his, you miss kissing him already and you just want to breathe him in. You call because you think you have both opened a new world to explore and you want to talk about it. He picks up and tells you he was just about to sleep. You are 5 minutes from his. You shyly say you were about to ask to come over - you can feel him reject you before he does. He says he has a lot to do on Saturday and would prefer to sleep in. He does not offer to see you or call you before you leave the city the next day, he does not ask if you want to talk about last night - he still hasn't, he does not say to come over and slip in quietly so you both can get the rest you need, he does not ask about your day or if you've had any dinner. He pauses and repeats that he took a sleeping pill and tells you he is going to bed.

It's been 4 days and nothing. You can't fully articulate your disappointment or anger or pain. You haven't cried yet because you kissed him and you knew you shouldn't have. But you won't hate yourself, not this time. He kissed you when he shouldn't have. You opened up and there was no after care. You're left bare and hurting and no-one is none the wiser.

[thekitchendough]

Angus, Thongs and Colourful toys

I got my first vibrator at 25. Funny thing, my 23 year old family friend was the one who held my hand and led me down the isles past oral care and baby food to the wonderful section of condoms, lube and assistive pleasure devices right opposite the arthritis and orthopaedic ointments. I mean it was just poetic. Here I was, a young sexually frustrated woman in her mid-twenties experiencing a new way of taking control of her life while stealing glances at another possible version of her needs in the far future.

Ness started talking me through the different options and her personal favourites. She seemed so excited to share this part of her life with me. I tried my best to seem knowledgeable and bored, but really I was frightened - What if I didn't know how to do it right? What if I were too awkward? How do you even start to do this? Is porn involved? Do I need to find someone to have phone sex with? Oh God, do I have to call that ex? And why on earth is this girl talking so loudly?! I was also sort of ashamed, how was it that this girl knew more about this than I did. I mean I was supposed to be showing her all of this. Teaching her to be more comfortable with her body and sensuality but in truth I didn't have much to offer. I was 25 and newly single. I didn't have much of an interesting sex life and the idea of touching myself made me shy. I couldn't even tell you where my 'spot' was. For someone who had an active sexual imagination, I was out of my comfort zone here. This was real and actionable and I was completely clueless.

It's been 2 years, more sexual adventures and 2 more toys in and I wish I could tell you I was a pro now. I will give myself credit and say I am a bit better. Imagination is one hell of an aphrodisiac and teaching your crush how to operate your vibrator remotely is a power rush i particularly enjoyed.

Sex is always going to be a weird topic. But it doesn't have to be. We don't all get a full-credit course on the subject growing up and there's no box to say what too old is. I'm glad I had Ness, I'm happy she was excited and comfortable in her skin to handle this experience with me.

Here's to sexual exploration and learning what makes you giggle

[thekitchendough]

No Sex in this City.

Is it still abstinence if you are not getting any against your will?

I will spend this Friday night just like the others; at home, buried in a sea of thick blankets and wiping drool off my face from the onscreen kiss scene I wish I were participating in. I will spend it stealing glances at my body in any mirror I pass by thinking - I will definitely hit that. I pause at every curve and try to remember the ways they like to be touched.

When you make the decision to stop all casual sex with the guy from Hinge because you want to have sex with the man you love after putting together puzzles or during a corny romcom, you also make the decision to watch said romcom in non-sexy pyjamas and bleed delusions.

Am I the only one in this? thinking of sex or intimacy (my code for I need toe curling afternoon delights with breakfast served right after).

Now, I know there could be more effort on my part but have you seen what's out there? It stopped raining men when my generation of men decided they prefer to buy podcast microphones instead of opening doors and courting you to a well-thought out date. Is it too much to want to be courted like the movies we watch? I swear if another man responds to an instagram story with - 'you like to read? why don't you read me something beautiful', I'll read his eulogy.

[thekitchendough]

My White Lie

Today I told my friend, who is also an avid reader that I don’t like romance novels written by white people. My reasons were lacklustre and I think they could tell.

I talked about how I was not attracted to their descriptions of white male characters (and the male characters were mostly white). I talked about how the dialogue was so fluffy and obviously romantic that I found it hard to picture and believe. I said if a Nigerian man were to talk to me like that, I would not believe him and end up simply uninterested.

Now what I should have said was I did not like romance novels written by white authors because I envied how easy it was for them to imagine a love story so light. A story filled with fluff and trauma-free passion. They wrote meet-cutes, rom-coms and gave us eat-pray-love type stories. Where will my Nigerian sister find her rom-com? Nothing is funny when Femi or Tonye is taking you for a fool. Why can’t Tonye wake me up to breakfast in bed with love notes that trail my food tray to his bathroom where a drawn bath awaits me. He will come back sweaty with dark caramel skin flushed from taking his dog on a morning walk. Why can’t Eniola look into Femi’s eyes and confess so easily how these two weeks of getting to know each other have been one of the best she’s had. Why cant she tweet about it and not see comments like “ the breakfast that is waiting for you ehn” or “fear who no fear Yoruba man”. Why does she need to play hard to get for 6 months when she knew 10 minutes into the conversation over dinner that she would let him take her six ways to Sunday before he dropped her home.

[thekitchendough]

[thekitchendough]

journal entry VI

i have some long overdue growing up to do

[thekitchendough]

I couldn't hit send but I couldn't let the words die too. So here's an unsent email below:

Hi Leroy, 

It's been a while. I wish I could say why I didn't write you back sooner. The truth is I don't know why. I went to that library of pictures. I went there the day after he left. Or I let him leave. I am not sure how he tells it these days. I went there to tear down every encapsulated memory of him. I knew it was the only way. I needed to rip off every image from my mind so I could breathe again. It's funny, I didn't notice I wasn't until he told me he had to go. All I could mutter was okay because my mind was actively trying to store the sound of his voice. A voice that took me to places I didn't know I could go. A voice that I spent nights conjuring stories for. 

Leroy, I could not write to you because it reminded me of how far away he was. What was the point of all of this? Isn't the idea of it all cruel? Pen Pals. A friend you may connect with on a deep level but never actually see them laugh. Never feel the warmth rush over you from watching their eyes crease from a shared joke or feel their hands hold you from falling apart. It was all too painful. I sat there the day he told me he cared for me. I felt his walls dissolve and his heart call to mine and I stayed silent. I've hated the silence ever since. I should've said something. Anything. I could have told him I went to bed thinking of him and woke up hoping he left me clues he was thinking of me too. I should have said his was the face I imagined when I read stories about love. His was the story I imagined telling. Instead I sat silent, choking on words that he needed to hear. And just like that I picked up the last of his brick walls and threw it at our bubble. I forced him out of our dream and hated him for waking up. 

But its too late now. Cruelty will be him knowing any of this. There is no point. Our last words were - I can't do this and okay. And just like I did when I was 15, I left an empty card that said so much and nothing at the same time. It should have read that my love stories had red-bricked-out-of-place walls in them. That I dreamt of red earth and football fields for years and never knew why till he eased the memory back to me. It will be cruel now as it was then to tell him all this. I let these words rot within me and suffer the burn alone because what will be the point. But he hurt me too. He left me. He should have known I wanted him to stay. He should have known my silence was a lie.  

Anyhoo. I thought of him today. I heard Omo say baby in that helpless voice that made my body stop in its tracks. And like the first letter, I've told you too much for a stranger. I hope you don't think of me as too crazy. I would love to visit that museum when you set it up. 

Here's to capturing moments, 

April. 

[thekitchendough]

New Year, new eyes

...I am starting to think I may not be good at the romantic relationships I have idolized for so long. And that I may be the problem.

I have a tendency to be rude when overwhelmed and I can be the long-suffering victim or maybe I am who knows. All I know is I am left feeling defeated on the other side of the phone.

It's always the phone because you can't hold the gaze of someone who didn't come to the door.

[thekitchendough]

Girlfriends (2003).

[thekitchendough]

In the beginning, the princesses slept

Then they climbed down towers to find life

Then they took up armour to protect their love

As I read more, they all stopped running back at midnight

So wake up sleeping beauty!

[thekitchendough]

Somewhere in the bitterness

[thekitchendough]

Sex: the body’s natural expression of art.