I met Hania at the beginning of the summer. She burst into my dry and repressive summer class with so much energy and enthusiasm that it was hard not to be a bit annoyed at 8:30 in the morning. When we got assigned to do a group project together, I didn’t know what to expect.

Sometime during a procrastination break, I find myself telling her about my sexual proclivities and my phone sex work. She smiles and asks a lot of questions. Then sho bowls me over by revealing that she used to do phone sex work while she lived in London. Here I thought that Hania, a Syrian, might be free-spirited but was another oppressed middle eastern woman. My prejudices were obvious to me almost immediately.

The next week, she came over to our house for a potluck. When the rest of the guests left, she didn’t and the three of us talked late into the night.

I can break the nearly 24 hours we spent together into distinct moments, all of them characterized by arousal and many of them by a distinct longing.

***
She is on my couch and we are discussing sex (what else?) and it is 4am. I am falling asleep and I also desperately want to reach out and touch her. Her breasts are over-spilling her shirt and I think she knows this and doesn’t fix it on purpose. I can even see the top of one dark areola and I try not to stare too much.

***
After a conversation on rope bondage, she agrees to be tied up. The morning sunlight is streaming into the guest room and her hair is wet from the shower. I nervously apply the katana over her clothes. Her chest is still heaving in the shirt she was wearing the night before. Despite the intimacy I nervously apologize each time I brush against her but she looks at me angelically.

In a bold moment, I show her what the Japanese refer to as dishevelment and pull the top of her tank top down to reveal her pink bra.

***

I am in her kitchen and she thrusts a porcelain dish under my nose, “Smell!”

“Za’atar?”

“Yes, you know it? My mother sends it to me”

Three days later I find myself in my own kitchen, mixing a batch of the pungent spice blend. Sumac, paprika, cumin, and thyme. I inhale it deeply and remember her.

***

I am sitting on her couch and and she is reading my fortune from the grounds in my Turkish coffee. We are leaning our heads together and I can smell her and I want to cry because I want her so badly.

***

Last weekend we saw Hania again. She had spent a month out of town and was emailing me and calling me several times a week just to talk. I knew she wanted us but I was so nervous. For now, I’m treasuring that night and keeping it to myself. You, dear reader, can enjoy the same anticipation that I did. Hopefully by the time I write the rest of the story, she will have given me permission to publish the picture of her in my ropes.

Want to know what Jay was thinking through all of this? His version was posted this week.

A lot of people have been telling me that they are disappointed to see the lack of response these interviews on masculinity are getting. I am a bit sad about it too but I also don’t care. I have more of them and I’m going to keep posting them because they matter. Like, they really matter.

This next interview is from Wanton Male who is a bisexual blogger. He has been writing about sex online for a long time and I’m thrilled and honored that he took the time to respond to my questions. His responses reflect some of the same trepidation and confusion about masculinity that all of the men so far have expressed.

When was the first time you remember being aware of masculinity? How old were you? What was the cultural climate or influence?
This is a tough one for my shoddy memory. I can’t conciously remember an exact moment. I guess I grew up in a fairly typical, nuclear family, my father being my role model in that regard. Dad was in charge, fixed things around the house, mowed the yard, played sports and whatnot.

As far as noting the differences between the sexes, I noticed how my parents were different and certainly played my fair share of “show me yours, I’ll show you mine” throughout my youth with both girls and boys. Funnily enough, I’m still playing that game.

I grew up in the 70s and was a service brat. My father was an officer and pilot in the Air Force, so certainly some influences there. That certainly added to my observations of masculinity, as I was exposed to a healthier than average dose of discipline and structure. Plus, my dad flew planes, how manly is that?

Do you think of yourself as masculine? Why or why not?
My first inclination is to waffle, and say, yes and no. However, if forced to choose one, AND be honest, I have to say no.

One of the main aspects of masculinity, in my mind at least, is the physicality of it. I’ve never been a big guy. I’m average height and have always been towards the skinny side, even in my younger days. Back then though, I would have said yes. I was smallish, but I was resilient, I was scrappy. These days I am shell of that.

For the last 15 years I have been fighting severe rheumatoid arthritis. I’ve had multiple operations replacing joints that have been destroyed by my disease. I won’t say I am frail, but I am certainly weakened, and most definitely limited in what I can do physically. So in that regard, it has definitely been emasculating.

Emotionally, I probably lean towards feminine. It’s cliche, but I am in touch with my feelings, and don’t run screaming from them. Not exactly masculine there. I’m kind, nice, empathetic, and I enjoy talking, all of which makes me very popular with women. I make a great girlfriend apparently.

Which leads me to sexually. I am incredibly sexual. I may be chatting sweetly with the ladies but I am thinking about how I could be fucking them. My sex drive is high, and usually stays there. I fully fit the bill of masculinity here.

There are myriad other things where I am masculine. Intellectually I’m logical, practical, and rational. I can be aggressive, dominating and demanding. I’m not the breadwinner of our household, but I do make the majority of the decisions.

So there we go. I am a conflicting and chaotic example of masculinity. Certainly no poster child for it.

How does your masculinity relate to your sexuality (be it your orientation, preferences, or expressions)?
I honestly don’t know. I am bisexual with limited experience on the bi side. I actually kinda just like thinking of myself as just really sexual and a sensualist. I wanna have fun, and I’m not particular with which side of the fence it is.

In bed with women, I tend to take a laid back, have fun attitude, unless I am purposefully being aggressive. Except when it comes to pleasing her. I damn well want her to come, and as many times as possible, but is that related to masculinity? Beats me.

Interestingly enough, with men, so far at least, I seem to be the top. Which honestly is not, how I figured it would be. Will this change as I have more experiences, I cannot say, but I’m not bothered with it either way. I’m just looking for a good time.