Beyond the Diamond’s Edge
Unveiling the Jewel Box of Selfhood
We love, we want, we touch. Our stories weave our relationships, tangled and beautiful. I am a socio-psychologist and a radical feminist. I wonder how our lovers shape our bonds, how our past makes our present. I take you deep into our minds, where we hide our secrets and dreams. I show you how a woman's past lovers make her a better partner.
Come with me on this journey of the senses. Let us face our unconscious, where our fears and desires live. Freud said, "The mind is like an iceberg, it floats with one-seventh of itself above water." The rest is our hidden self, shaping our sexuality.
We crave what we don't know. Our hidden wants weave a web of lust. What we lived, learned, and believed shapes our web. A woman's past lovers are her web's threads. They show how far and deep she explored her wants. They mark her mind with pleasure and pain.
We look at a woman's past lovers and wonder. We make them things, not people. Some say this is wrong. But things can draw us in. Alain de Botton said, "Love makes us alive. Memory makes us dead." A woman's past lovers are things of memory. They make us want her more. They show us her fire and her edge.
She collects lovers like jewels. Each one sparkles with a different hue. Each one tells a story of lust, joy, and closeness. They form her crown, her necklace, her bracelet. They adorn her womanhood, revealing her secrets and her dreams.
The first jewel is a diamond. It flashes in the night, then disappears. It draws her in with its brilliance, then cuts her with its edge. It is a gamble, a thrill, a mystery. It shows her courage, her playfulness, her curiosity. She wears it proudly, then lets it go.
The second jewel is a ruby. It glows with a steady flame, burning for years. It warms her heart, fills her soul, binds her to another. They share laughter, tears, stories. They grow together, learn from each other, support each other. It shows her wisdom, her compassion, her loyalty. She cherishes it, protects it, nurtures it.
The third jewel is an emerald. It shines with a forbidden light, tempting her to sin. It scares her, excites her, awakens her. She crosses lines, breaks rules, defies conventions. It shows her bravery, her curiosity, her passion. She tastes it, savours it, embraces it.
She keeps them hidden in a drawer: the tokens of her lust. Each one tells a story, a secret, a wish. They are the keys to her hidden self, the self that only she and a few others know. They are the clues to her passion, her power, her mystery.
She likes to show herself sometimes: a flash of skin, a glimpse of lace, a hint of heat. She knows the effect she has, the spell she casts, the thrill she gives. She is not a thing to be owned, but a force to be reckoned with. She is not a victim, but a victor. She is not a spectacle, but a spectacle-maker.
She bares her soul, not just her skin. Her stories are her jewels, each one a treasure. She chooses them carefully, shining with truth. She makes you see, hear, smell, taste, touch. You enter her world, breathless and curious.
She invites you to share your secrets, too. She listens with care, nods with respect, smiles with trust. You talk of love, lust, pain, joy. You find a common ground, a deeper bond. You feel more alive, more whole.
She has loved and lost, tasted and touched, given and taken. Her past is a labyrinth of secrets and sensations, a map of her mind and body. She knows what she wants and how to get it. She is not ashamed of her desires, but proud of her power.
He wants to know her, to unravel her, to make her his. He does not judge her for her history, but admires her for her courage. He sees the beauty in her scars, the wisdom in her eyes, the passion in her voice. He is drawn to her mystery, her object, her show.
They meet, they connect, they explore. They discover each other's stories, each other's souls, each other's selves. They learn from each other, they grow with each other, they love each other. They are not bound by their past, but inspired by their present. They are not afraid of their future, but excited by their potential.
Human desire is complex and varied. Anaïs Nin knew this well. She wrote: "We grow unevenly, partially, relatively. We are mature and childish, layered and cellular, past and present and future. We are constellations."
With this wisdom, let us explore a woman's sexual history. Let us be open, kind, and reverent. Let us see the unconscious, the object, and the exhibitionist. Let us understand the erotic moments that make us who we are.
