Sometimes I wonder if it’s only ever a transaction between us.

I keep experiencing it as more—feeling the sweetness, the closeness, the ache—but then I feel foolish for believing in that more. Like I’m gaslighting myself.

You care about me. You’re present within the transaction.
But still… it’s a transaction.

And maybe sex and intimacy always are, in some way—a giving and a getting.
Maybe we’re all playing at connection without ever fully naming the terms.

And yet, I wish it wasn’t like that.
I long for something that feels like a gift, not a negotiation.

I feel that I offer my touch, my affection, as a gift—at least most of the time.
But maybe the transaction I’m unconsciously engaging in is: “If I touch you well… will you love me?”

Maybe I don’t even see myself clearly—don’t see how others experience me.
Maybe I’m still learning to understand the shape of the love I give and the love I crave in return.

The way I want to be touched, seen, loved, held—
All the silent prayers I whisper to the universe, to the ancestors, to the void—to receive love that is custom-made for me.
It feels like no one is ever just going to offer that.

I have to teach it.
Or maybe first, I have to learn it myself.
Learn how I want to be held.
How I want to be loved.
And then teach that to someone else.
But is that even possible?

Is it selfish? Is it too much?
Or is this what it means to stop abandoning myself?

What is the opposite of self-abandonment?
It’s self-honoring.

It’s staying.
Staying with my feelings, even when they’re inconvenient.
Staying with my boundaries, even when it risks rejection.
Staying with my body—her rhythms, her no’s, her sacred yes.

It’s asking, “What do I need to feel safe, to feel loved, to feel whole?” —and choosing that, even if no one else offers it.

It’s not shrinking to be digestible.
Not molding myself into someone else’s idea of easy to love. It’s not proving, performing, or placating.

The opposite of self-abandonment is devotion—to myself.
It’s listening, protecting, cherishing what’s true inside me.
Refusing to trade my sacredness for scraps of affection.

I wonder, too:
What does it look like when men abandon themselves?
Are they struggling in the same way I am, deep down?
Is that why they pretend not to care, when I can feel that they do?
Are they afraid of what it would mean to truly care?
Is that why they disconnect from their longing, their softness, their desire to be loved without performance?

With you—
Sometimes it feels like you want my love, my comfort, my body—But only on your terms. During the time I pay for. At your discretion.

And I ask myself:
Do I have the nerve to want more than that?
To ask for something I’m not sure you can offer?
Can I leap into the unknown—not knowing if what I want is even possible—without bracing for rejection?
Without preparing to cut you out of my life the moment shame floods in?

The moment I start to relax into you, to feel safe, you pull away.
I hold you. I comfort you.
And I feel like I could hold you forever—for free.

But is that even true?
Because I do want something in return.
I want to feel it’s just as easy for you to give as it is for me.

Is that kind of sacred reciprocity possible?
Or is it just a mythical unicorn I keep chasing?

My truth is:
I am under-held.
Under-cherished.
Unless it’s part of a transaction.

And I struggle with the transaction.
I strain to understand it.
Am I doing it right?
Am I asking too much?
I question myself constantly.

And still, I ask again and again: Is a transaction the only way I get to be treated the way I want to be treated?

I crave: Bodies touching with clothes on. Cuddling.
Breathing together.

Then—Naked bodies. Touching. Kissing.

So much spaciousness. So close and connected.
Safe and relaxed.
Then building the heat—again and again—
Learning each other.
Exploring, together and apart.

And then, that edge—
Where bodies begin to merge.
Where someone enters someone.

And I wonder:
What does it all mean?
What is me, and where do we begin?
Are we even a “we”?
What makes a “we”?

What is this pull I feel?
Do you feel it too?
What is the true desire between us?

How do I know if we’re on the same page?
Is it possible for me to have fewer questions?
To proceed without answers?

To follow a prayer—my own desire—
even if it isn’t matched?

What is it to be loved?
To be claimed?

Is being claimed sexy?
Is it something I want—or want to do?

Is my desire to be met without explanation… unrealistic?

I don’t have answers.
Just this ache.
And this truth:

I want more than a transaction.
I want to feel sacred in someone’s arms.

Is that too much to ask?

I want to feel able to rest into another.
To have my doubts soothed.
To know I am wanted—desired—for more than this moment.

To know there will be time.
Time to ask questions.
Time to breathe together.
Time to continue our intimate study of each other’s hearts, minds, bodies—and the sacred “we” we might become.