Last week a very close online friend asked me a question in an e-mail that, regrettably, I couldn't answer, and the reason I couldn't was because Dee and I are opposites when it comes to using our brains. In "real life" that opposite serves us very well because each of us is gifted more in a way in which the other isn't, and because of that we can divide up the things that are involved in running a home, raising kids, taking care of business, and getting done the things that need to be done in teamwork fashion - exactly how a marriage should work, I think.
I'm the verbal one, as anybody who's spent even a little time here at Ye Olde Blogge, will readily notice. I'm not claiming to use words exceptionally well, but I do have a lot of them and I'm not afraid to sprinkle them far and wide to anybody who might be interested in hearing or reading them. If a letter needs to be written for the household, I'm the one who writes it regardless of whose signature might appear at the bottom. If a call needs to be made about a problem with something, I'm the one on the phone yakking away with Mujibar whose outsourced English on another continent makes him sound like he has a mouthful of shit or the sweet woman from Alabama whose Southern English sounds as foreign as Mujibar's.
Dee is analytical to my verbal and the ANAL at the beginning of that word is most appropriate in her case whether she's taking Don's smooth curve up between her buns, keeping track of our investments, or doing the federal, state, and local taxes with little more than a pen. I have no doubt that she could recite the Pythagorean Theorem regardless of her never having had to putz with a right triangle since high school, and to amuse me she often recites the total amount at the grocery store within a few dollars even while I'm still emptying the contents of the cart onto the conveyor. Dee's brain is like a computer, while mine is more like a pulp fiction novel.
Thus, I was stymied when my friend asked me if I'd ever asked Dee what it feels like when she sucks a man's cock so I could compare her response to my own feelings when I do the same. I had to explain that I'd never ask Dee a question like that because if I did, she'd look at me as if I had another head sprouting from my shoulders. It's just not the kind of question I'd ask her because I know not only that she'd have no answer for it but that she'd make no attempt even to try to respond in words.
I'd like to believe that you can see it in Dee's fun pictures - that she's a feeler more than a talker. That she immerses herself in the feelings, the emotions, the sensations of making love with me or one of her lovers and doesn't try to reduce them to words - words which can never adequately express what's being felt. I envy her in that respect at times, especially when we're doing a full swing with another couple. There I am constanting thinking to myself - narrating the evening in my own head... "Oh wow! This is so cool! I'm fucking Jane and there's Dee sucking Henry while Don's fucking her up the ass from behind." I literally distract myself from enjoying the physical sensations to the max because my damned head's always trying to translate when I'm experiencing into sentences and paragraphs. I envy Dee's ability simply to feel what she's feeling.
Words are cool. They can be fun - even exciting. They can be helpful. But they can't express everything, least of all the kinds of things that aren't really supposed to be expressed with them. Sometimes a smile or an embrace speak volumes wordlessly - as they should. Because... it's not all about words. On some level I know that even if I can't really bring myself to believe it.
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