In Which Our Protagonist Suffers from Body Shame Blues

Reader, I am angry. I am trying to keep the frequency vibrating at anger, anyway, lest I sink back into the sad, self-pitying, disempowered place in which I've spent most of this day. I am making plans to go out and get 'em done, have an angry, super-hot makeout with pretty much the first hottie that shows up and is down.

The nasty mood started last night when I was looking at some super sex-pozzie porn on that great blog I posted earlier. I know, sad that imagery of great sex would have such an ill effect, right? Sometimes when you're really far down in the dumps, I guess other people's happiness and enjoyment can be a negative trigger. I hate that. Nevertheless, I found myself feeling jealous and resentful of all these beautiful queers getting sexy and enjoying each other because I feel damaged. If I could erase the shit that Peter said to me three weeks ago, I would do it without even pausing to consider.

I realize that right now as I type this, I am experiencing the same problem that has kept me from writing in this blog much these days: I don't feel like I need it in the same way anymore as a space to process what I'm going through. I have friends for that. I'm getting a little bored of trying to keep a journal-type thing of all of my exploits, especially since my status seems to change so very often, and in order to keep up, I've had to sacrifice a lot of depth. So I'm just going to skip the summary for now and talk about what I feel like talking about.

So now I am in this wild mood. I am going to hook up with someone or other tonight. I know, dangerous! But hey, whoever it is won't even be aware of ever having a choice in the matter. People who might be my victims tonight are: Silas, JAMES (!!!), Dan (but probably not, he seems to be in the polyfidelitous way right now), Colin...or any number of other hotties I might run into this evening.

I need to do this to get my mojo back. I am tired of waiting around for my issues to get "dealt with" in some ponderous way when it seems like I really could just put a big fat poultice on the wound and make it feel better if I get someone's hands and lips all over me. Like, tonight.

First stop after masturbating, I think, is to go grab Colin, yank him outside of the club where he plans to be hanging out tonight, drag him into the alley, and climb all. Over. Him. He's down, too. I think that will be a fantastic way to kick things off.

After that, I'm going to meet up with Dan and his lovely lady friend for a couple of drinks, go to a fetish-themed Christmas party with the carnies, and find someone to make out with there. Later, James might show up, and then...oh holy hell...

(Yes, he started talking to me again. We'll see where that goes...)

In other news, Harvey is having great sex with a lovely new woman, and Val has been making out with a married poly guy. She has a one-on-one meetup with his wife planned for sometime next week. La la la la la....

Pause to Post Hotness

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In Which Arthur Sleeps Over

...And we cuddled and kissed a little, but not much more. It was sweet, I liked it, and I got very wet...which is some kind of evidence of something to me! It's all so new and exciting. I'm going to take it very slow and make sure I'm feeling everything that I do before I do it. I'm not going to pressure it or let anyone else do so. But the point is that I like Arthur and Ezra both, and I'm apparently more capable than I thought I was of honest, red-blooded physical attraction towards them. Date #2 with Ezra tomorrow. I'll let you know how it went.

That is all.

In Which Accounts are Closed and Opened

As with any time I fail to post here for long stretches of time, lots and lots of things have happened. I've experienced much weather of the heart, a bit of sexy play, and a fair measure of rapid change, as seems to be the trend with me these days. Not that I am denying responsibility for it all. In fact, I would rather spend more time putting things into perspective and trying to establish some analysis of these patterns than giving play-by-play accounts of my adventures. Nevertheless, I'll start with a basic accounting of what's going on with the loose threads from my last few posts.

First of all, I'm no longer seeing Silas. After a very intermittent few weeks of dating, I got annoyed with his inconsistency and unavailability. The last contact we had was when I sent him an extremely direct e-mail message outlining the possible relationship models I would consider with him, including, perhaps, an FWB-type thing. I pointed out the fact that even though I like and appreciate him, the only thing we really have in common is sex. My point was to try to put some pressure on him to clarify the terms of whatever we're doing here--perhaps a dick move, or just an ineffective and silly one?--but like most men I've encountered in the last few years, he's responding in typical player fashion: not responding at all. I'm not sure what his personal reaction was, but he never replied, and I feel pretty clear that it's over. It would have been nice to keep playing with him because he's such a dreamily dominant sexer, but it's not worth the damage to my self-esteem that I sustain whenever I'm involved with people who have a tendency to ignore or avoid me.

Second, Peter and I are no longer sexually involved, at least for now. It would take forever to tell this story properly, but suffice it to say that we still talk several times a week, and we still share an emotional intimacy and connection, but I'm not sure if I'll ever feel secure enough to be naked in front of him again. What began as a moment of honesty hit a huge, painful trigger for me. It's a shame that we won't be continuing our gender fuckery, but cutting off that aspect of the relationship is better than having to listen to the nasty voice in my head accuse me of being sexually inadequate. (Fuck that!)

Another general thing that is going on is that for the first time in my life and to my utter surprise, for the last few months I have been finding myself feeling increasingly erotically interested in transgendered men. We have a relatively vibrant trans community here in my town, and social circumstances have led me to become friends with several of them and acquaintances with several others. I have the inside line on all the queer parties and events now, too, and I've been gravitating to that circle of folks more and more often. So, over time, I started catching myself staring at an ass, giggling with uncommon warmth at some cute gesture, or admiring the taut curve of a shoulder or the bulge of a sinewy tricep.

When this started, any time I realized what I was thinking--sexy, sweet, and intimate things--I would step back from the feeling and remind myself that although these boys' masculine embodiment may be incredibly believable, they still have vaginas. And Carnita ain't into vaginas, right, reader?

The jury is still out on that one, but I'll tell you the facts. My poly, trans, and absolutely adorable friend Arthur has become a person I really enjoy being around. We tend to get together and process things that are going on in our lives, and we always seem to have valuable insights to offer one another. A couple of weeks ago, when he was over at my house with a couple of friends, I detected the slightest hint of flirtation passing between us. I was certain I wasn't imagining it when we did that cute thing where our legs accidentally touch and then neither of us move them...for a really long time...

By the next week, I was making out with him next to my car outside his house. That only happened once, and we agreed to make sure it didn't create awkwardness. I haven't seen him much since then. He's a total cutie, but the attraction is by no means earth-shattering. It's mostly just a sweet crush that doesn't feel all that sexual.

The thing that feels more significant than that started in a coffee shop where I hang out several days a week to write or do work. Across the room, a person of perfectly androgynous gender presentation whom I had never seen before sat down at a corner table. I found myself having extreme difficulty averting my eyes. I felt downright creepy in my fascination with this person. He was forgiving, and only looked up awkwardly a couple of times with this sheepish smile.

Reader, I felt all the cheesy love-at-first-sight shit that the poets talk about: my face flushed violently with blood and heat, my heart sped up, and I felt as if I was finally beholding the most beautiful, interesting, and entirely unique creature in all the world. Every flicker of his eyebrow or movement of his nostrils seemed dramatic to me. His teeth pressing into his bottom lip in a moment of concentration caused me to forget to breathe. His index finger tracing the outline of his ear made me bitterly jealous of his hand. I'm telling you, it was the real deal, the high romance, the heart-stopping rush. (Not that I necessarily privilege that sort of feeling over the ones that take time to grow; it's just how it happens sometimes.) This sort of thing typically happens to me once every few months to a year, but this is only the second time ever that the object of my rapt fixation has been someone who falls completely outside of traditional masculine sex ideals. It may be one of two or three times when I've ever gotten to interact with the person again at a later date, too.

Anyway, I saw Arthur and my other friend Heidi a couple of days later, and I told them about my dizzying experience. I described a beautiful trans man with a shock of white hair, bright, laughing green eyes, a bit of sparse facial hair, and shapely, unbound breasts. They looked at each other meaningfully, grinned, and said simultaneously, "Ezra." Arthur added, "Yes, he is gorgeous. He's a pretty close friend of mine." I asked a few questions about him, gushed a bit more, and then dropped the matter. I hadn't actually considered that anything could come of it until Heidi sent me a text that said something like, "Oh, by the way, I ran into Ezra today and I told him that I have a friend who thinks he's really hot. He said you should Facebook him."

A couple of days later, after a little bit of Facebook exchange, we ended up at the same dance party at an awesome local queer club. When we met, it took me a few minutes to figure out what to do with my hands, what to talk about, what to look at besides his enormous green eyes. We talked about religion and sex-positivity and all sorts of other things. I met his most significant partner Kori (totally positive feelings all around, by the way), we all chatted a lot and danced together, and I left with Ezra's phone number. The next afternoon, we had coffee and continued our conversation. We were having such a nice time that we got dinner together, and then I dropped him back off at his car. We didn't kiss, but I think we both wanted to. I don't want to overblow the potential here, but it felt like a significant date. I felt the first twinge of an actual heart connection with him, that different level of connection that feels transparent--not muddled or confused--and which engages my deepest curiosity about what another person's soul is like. I get this feeling for friends fairly often. On a rare and lovely occasion, I find it in a lover. I can't be sure about anything yet, including the authenticity of my attraction to him, but it certainly doesn't feel fake. We have another date in a couple of days, and I am excited to see what happens. I am open to all the possibilities.

Which brings me, finally, back to the most important objective I had in sitting down to write today: to attempt to articulate a few realizations that are trying to break through the subconscious film that has been keeping them down and mute. It's sure to be awkward for me to write about because these issues have been challenging me to my core, triggering shame and guilt and all sorts of other barely tolerable feelings. I know that I need to face this shit, though. I need to feel it all in order to grow. If I don't change how I approach relationships, I'm only going to get the same results over and over and over. I notice, too, that the negative patterns established by the Thomases and Silases in my life color my perception and memory of other situations that are completely unlike these truly unpleasant, insecurity-triggering ones.

The issues that I've been feeling the need to scrutinize are bringing up a lot of questions. I'll try not to censor anything that comes up, and I feel sure that a pattern will start to emerge here...

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Why do I keep attracting/becoming attracted to people who tend to ignore me, brush me off, or dismiss me as a serious contender for their lasting affections? Is it because I have low expectations/low self-esteem and they can tell I'll let them get away with it? Is it because I am terrible at playing the dating game, in which men give chase and women resist? (I tend to be pretty forward, and I'm usually the aggressor...) Is it because I get too familiar with potential partners too soon, before I can really have a chance to test out our dynamic?

My hormones are raging right now, I want sex constantly, and I haven't been all that careful about reeling that in for the higher purpose of finding higher-quality love relationships. The drive for sex has felt so immediate and urgent that more than once I have looked right at the facts--i.e. that this person is incapable of being the partner I want, or furthermore, perhaps the most important issue of all, that there is no way for me to know these things on a second date--and then jumped into bed with him anyway. I realize that it probably seems so obvious to you, Reader.

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A CONVERSATION WITH MYSELF.

The self-talk voice that has been dominating my inner monologue says things like this:

Carnita, you are a complete pussy when it comes to delaying gratification with these skeezy dudes, and I think I know why, too. It's because you don't believe that you even deserve to be truly known, or that there is no way you can attract the hotties you want unless you aggressively offer up your body to them, and fast. You think you're going to lose their attention if you don't bed them ASAP, since there are lots and lots of hot, slutty girls in this town and far fewer hot, slutty guys. You would like to believe that you're being sex-positive, and maybe sometimes it is like that, but men are still conditioned like men and very few of them value a connection with a woman that comes too easily. I know that it frustrates you that this is true because you have so much love to offer everyone, and it comes very easily to you, and sex feels like one among many completely natural ways to get to know a person. You're trusting and open, and that's great and all, but you're taking it to the point of recklessness. Look at your heart; it's all frayed and chewed-up. You're starting to get suspicious and cynical. That gorgeous, confident, untroubled smile you used to flash at strangers just to brighten their day has gotten duller. You've lost your swag. 


You're remembering things all wrong lately, too. Remember that Lachlan and Peter never treated you badly. They just disappointed you, and only because they didn't feel a certain way, not because they were cruel or neglectful. They were honest with you, and they treated you with respect and consideration. The situations with Silas and Thomas (and maybe to some extent Caleb) have blurred your memory of all that. The stories of these relationships keep getting tangled in your head, and you keep generalizing about situations that aren't actually similar at all. 


You have got to learn the difference between the sort of people who are willing and capable of meeting your needs/expectations and the sort of people who aren't! For one thing, it is not fair to go around expecting people you barely know to behave according to some code of yours, any more than it is fair to yourself to keep getting entangled with all these people who are totally unqualified to satisfy you.


Plus, when you get with these people, you start making yourself seem desperate. You get mad that they aren't responding to you, that although they were willing to fuck you once or twice, it did not follow that your personality was so fucking brilliant that it hooked them within hours of meeting you. In other words, sleeping with them didn't suddenly create intimacy! Go figure! 


Then comes the really silly part of the whole script, where you send that routine note to the person who has been ignoring you for weeks--a note intended to set the person straight, balance the power dynamic, or whatever--and you put all this intention into saying just the right thing, knowing very well that you're just looking for whatever will make the person react somehow...and then, when they don't respond or react in any way, you feel even less resolution about the situation than you would have if you hadn't said anything at all. So now there are a bunch of idiots out there who probably think, perhaps somewhat justifiably, that you're some kind of volatile, borderline personality. If you're not careful, you're going to end up with a reputation for being the worst kind of crazy. Although it really is only these types of situations that bring the irrational, angry, defensive, self-righteous beast out of you--that is, when you feel disempowered and voiceless in a relationship--but these people don't know that. Effectively, you allow these situations to degrade your character and reduce you to an animal that's just reacting, reacting, reacting. That's bullshit, if you ask me. You're really going to let these people to whom you have no real attachments, and who have never given you any indication that they are worth your time, the power to turn you into a bitter, judgmental harpy? 


I realize that it's almost always the REALLY REALLY HOT ones that end up in these situations with you. The intensity of your physical attraction to them clouds your judgment and makes you much more likely to fall into bed with them. You're more likely to see them favorably You're as weak as a man in this regard, bless your heart.


One possible approach is to conclude that you should stay away from anyone who ever touches that particular trigger--anyone who, within the first few weeks, EVER causes you to feel like you need to "play it cool," that your presence is less than totally wanted, or that you have no status in relation to them. Dammit, they're so attractive to you, though! They tend to be really charismatic and popular. They're true leaders, trendsetters, self-starters! And if you can snag a man who has these characteristics of greatness, well, why shouldn't you seize the opportunity? After all, you love being associated with the Alphas, the centers of attention. They're controversial, their lives are exciting, and people look at you differently when you appear beside them. It makes you feel important and somehow more 'correct' in some way, because clearly you must be doing something right if you can score this status symbol as your lover, right?


Well, silly girl, I have a few ideas why you might want to consider reconditioning this pattern in your tastes. First of all, remember Damon? He was one of these dudes, too. Not the inattentive kind, but a larger-than-life, manipulative sort...and you ignored all the warning signs because you were so enamored with the idea of being the girlfriend of such a 'badass,' a guy everyone has a strong opinion about, a guy who so naturally thrust himself into the spotlight anywhere he went. And how well did that work out for you, hmm? He turned out to be a deeply troubled pathological liar and a totally borderline prick who had never stopped showing the signs of being very interested in possessing and controlling you.


You may be able to spot Damon's type of personality now, but then, recently, here came Silas. He's totally different from Damon, sure; he's not the least bit sociopathic, he's doesn't read people like books, and he's not even all that smart. He didn't even seem all that threatening! But look what happened: you fell in bed with him, he rocked your world in that arena--like WOAH, rocked it, yes--and you immediately started contemplating the possibility of conforming your preferred relationship parameters to his! LIKE A DUMBASS! Then, AFTER going through that whole process, you discovered that he is a perpetual teenager with the emotional maturity to match, and then you felt ashamed for failing to notice it before. But then it was like you had to justify sleeping with someone so unequal to yourself by somehow getting him into a relationship. And then, when you fail at this task--because as dense as he may be, Silas is super sexy, he's a performer, and he is surrounded by beautiful, sexually adventurous women all the time--you freak out and blame him instead of yourself! 


This shit is ludicrous, dude. I've run out of time now, but we'll be in touch in the very near future, I'm sure.


Love,
Your Smarter Self

In Which Carnita Has a Pre-Pants-Off Chat With Silas, Becomes Charlie to Take Peter/Patricia to Prom, and Plans to Start a Business With Val

What a weekend!

Thursday night, I met up with Silas at a local cocktail lounge that has amazing pork tacos. We took over the whole back room and somehow managed to keep it to ourselves for the duration of the time we needed to be having a "serious talk." Basically, I presented my situation to him in more detail--I'm not looking for fuck buddies, I do ultimately want commitment, and Peter is in my life to stay--and then asked for more information about what he's looking for in relationships right now.

His answers to my questions were disappointing, but not total deal-breakers, seeing as I still ended up waking up next to him on Friday morning. The basic gist was that he's ultimately looking for a monogamish partnership, but that for the moment he is fine with seeing how/where things go and seems to have as little interest as I have in slutting around. I was satisfied with his honesty, if not totally satisfied with his apparent preference for monogamy when he is in love.

Digression: *Sigh* I have a fair bit of trouble understanding this phrase, "in love," in anywhere near the same way that I used to. In fact, I get rather frustrated by how clear most people's divisions of these categories are. All the "I love him, but I'm not IN love with him" talk sounds so nonsensical to me that it has lost all meaning. In fact, last week I posted a comment on Reddit about this in response to a question asking what "I love you" means to the people of /r/polyamory:

I think those words are overrated as containers for meaning. I sometimes throw them around with impunity, especially with friends and family, but when I am having the sort of intense, high-value experience of appreciation and connection that needs expressing--the reason why most people use those three words--I am MUCH more careful about my language. I try to think, "What do I really mean?" ...and then say that more substantial thing instead of using the L-bomb.

....Because in my heart of hearts I like to believe that love should never be used as a noun, but only as an active verb. Loving is a practice, a doing, and not just some static feeling that magically exists and somehow should be given credibility or weight regardless of how the person actually treats the loved one. The "love just exists" model, I believe, promotes the kind of fuctup logic that makes people think that it is possible to be in a "loving" relationship with someone who harms and abuses him/her.

TL;DR: My approach is: screw putting so much value on telling partners "I love you" and focus more on doing the caring, compassionate, radically transformative work of lovING. If you need to express an intensely positive feeling for someone, then be more descriptive.

Anyway, after this mildly disappointing talk, Silas and I went back to his house, hung out in the hot tub for a bit, and then drifted upstairs to his bedroom. Things got hot pretty quickly--I had already gotten very turned on by just the feel of his big, muscular arms wrapped around me under the warm water--and the sexing we did had at least one delightful unexpected result. You see, when we were talking dirty to each other about our fantasies earlier in the evening, he had said that he wanted to be some sort of first for me. (That's an alpha male for you.) Well, he got his wish.

No man before him has ever made me cum only by going down on me/using his hands. I am not sure how much I've talked about this issue here, but I have always been an almost inorgasmic sexer. My enjoyment of non-masturbatory sex has always had to lie in other places, and generally, as you may be able to tell, I have accomplished plenty of that enjoyment. It keeps getting better all the time, but the fact remains that I can count on one hand how many times I have had an orgasm with someone without the assistance of a machine. And even with these two or three partners, we were never able to repeat the spectacle again.

Somehow, though, Silas almost effortlessly found the magic formula to give me an orgasm, and he was able to repeat the trick within a few hours. He just kept trying things and sensing my responses until he found the thing--some combination of luscious, velvety clit-licking and thumping my G-spot pretty hard--and it took no time at all for us to be in a puddle of lady-ejaculate. (I myself, sexually empowered goddess that I am, had never even known exactly how to instruct someone to do this! Next time, I must study his witch-doctoring ways more closely...) He was pleased to discover that I am a squirter, of course. I don't think I've ever met a straight man who wasn't at least somewhat interested in this little factoid about me. But damn, it was hot!

We fell asleep watching Me and You and Everyone We Know, and he held me comfortably all night. There is something incredibly relaxing on a deep, instinctual level about falling asleep tucked into the curve of a big, powerful man's body. I woke refreshed, and we fucked like puppies again in the morning before I left for work. Mmmm. Yes, I am pleased with most of what's going on in this relationship so far. I think it's worth a shot, even if I may be risking another Lachlan situation. After all, my overriding feeling about Lachlan was and still is that the experience was worth the heartache.

Friday night was so entirely different from Thursday night that I was reeling for some time in the transition. First, I went to visit my friend Cory, a transgendered man who was willing to help me put together my outfit for the evening. You see, Peter and I had made plans to go to a prom-themed event put on by a local record shop in my town every year. This event is a very straight/heteronormative hipster sort of thing, but it is famously fun. We had decided to go in drag together because Peter has, as I mentioned, been playing with feminine gender presentation and sexual roles. So, I figured, who better to help me get suited up than a trans man? It worked out nicely because Cory had a matching vest and tie for me to borrow. We hung out for a couple of hours having a really intense conversation about our lives and relationships, and then I had to leave to make it to Peter's intimacy workshop on time.

This second phase of my episodic evening turned out to bring its own surprises. When I arrived at the event space, John and Crystal were there. (Recall: Crystal is a woman whom Simon had a brief and dramatic relationship with, and John is her husband, who went fucking berserk on us one night and earned my absolute contempt.) I freaked out a little bit, but I was civil, and I tried to remember that I can trust Peter to manage the situation gracefully. He came through. With Peter's help, by the end of the workshop, we had all worked out our conflicts. The whole setting of a workshop on cultivating trust and vulnerability is really a pretty fantastic environment for resolving issues, after all.

Next, Peter and I zipped back to my house to get changed. We had a great time trying on and picking out clothes. He ended up selecting a pretty, slinky black dress of mine after trying on several possibilities. I ended up in a casual suit--nice boyish jeans, sport coat, leather slouch cap (which belonged to my father and his father), and plain brown sneakers--with the tan vest and brown tie that Cory had loaned me. I was looking dapper, and Peter was looking very pretty, but we were an odd-looking pair, I'm sure.

I don't want to give the impression that the experience of our evening in drag was easier or simpler than it actually was. We spent nearly an hour just screwing up our courage to go at all. I think it would be difficult to relate here the emotional process by which each of us ended up crying at different times during the evening, why the genderfucking was so scary for me, and how my confusion over Silas was affecting my connection to Peter that night. Suffice it to say that it was an extremely intense, process-heavy evening that felt like a time of accelerated growth. I am grateful to Peter for going to that very tender, vulnerable place with me, allowing himself to be similarly vulnerable, and for loving and supporting me so attentively. Despite the emotional fumbles, I was proud to have him (as her, Patricia) in my arms on the dance floor. I don't know if anyone else noticed...but we sparkled. Later, we tumbled into bed and had the most beautiful, slow, tender lovemaking of our relationship to date.

The next morning, I took Peter out to brunch, and then he had to go back to the commune. I was more sorry to see him go than I have ever been before. I love that man.

The rest of my weekend was relatively normal, save for one funny little thing that provided me with a chance to witness how Silas navigates one sort of dicey communication situation. He and I were supposed to hang out Saturday or Sunday sometime, but he asked for a rain check because he was going to have a friend in town whom he wanted to spend time with. When he first told me about this friend, I could have sworn he called the person "he." However, to his credit, he did eventually come around to the awkward truth: she is a friend whom he had been and would end up getting intimate with later. He welcomed me to come over if I felt like "snuggling" with the two of them, explaining that his friend is into women too... Tempting, but as I told him, I felt like it may be too early for me, with him, to be getting busy with a third. I think I need to establish more of a sense of trust with Silas before we jump into bed with another.

The great thing about this circumstance was that it gave me a chance to show him that I really am quite relaxed about anything that he can be perfectly honest about.

(Side note: One of these days I should probably explain the struggle I've been having with this, about this odd pattern that seems to be proving that many, many men are much more likely to fall in love with women who can at least occasionally show an extremely irrational, reactionary, jealous side...*sigh* I don't stand a chance in that economy!)

I don't really have time to explain the business plan in detail, but I can leave you with a very succinct description of what Valerie and I have been talking about nonstop: opening a sex shop that doesn't suck. Our town desperately needs one, and we are super fired up about it. More on this later. Happy Monday! I have to run back to work now.

In Which Carnita Mans Up for Peter

I need to paint this picture for you in more detail. Switch to present tense narrative.

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Peter and I come home from an evening of dancing and pool-playing, and we start to get ready for bed. I disappear into the bathroom for a few minutes to freshen up. When I return, Peter is stretched out on the bed. He is wearing a royal blue satin negligée over a sexy little black bra and black sheer tights, looking absolutely delicious and heartbreakingly vulnerable. He smiles shyly up at me, arches his back, and runs his fingers through his long hair.

"Well hello," I say. He giggles and says, "I wanted to show you this me." I'm thrilled and terrified. I have no idea what I am about to do, but I hope I can rise to the occasion. I am hungry...

I slide down on the bed beside him and begin to explore his new embodiment, kissing, nibbling, and fondling. The first time I reach up for his little breasts and squeeze gently, he moans and squirms towards me. Yes yes yes! It's really happening!

I throw his knees over my shoulders and grind slowly on his ass. His sweet little girl-moans get louder and louder until I they are full-throated and resonant, and I am afraid that we are going to keep the whole house awake. I clap my hand over his...her mouth and pin her arms over her head with my elbows. She surrenders to me, and I become a man.

We tumble for hours like this, with me flipping her over, manipulating her limbs and placing them where I want them, and she gasping with my every assertion of strength and dominance. I turn her around to grind on her ass from behind, tangle my fingers up in her hair, and pull up and back to bare her lovely throat. I am almost sure she is about to start screaming with pleasure, so I reach around her head and thrust all the fingers of my hand into her mouth, grabbing the inside of her jaw for a handle to pull her back and forth, spreading her ass cheeks apart, thrusting my pubic bone into her ass. I go down on her, and I treat her cock like an overgrown clit, flicking my tongue and pushing my fingers up into the soft flesh behind her balls. I flip her on top of me, press my thumbs into her pretty little hips, and push her back and forth. She arches back and rides me with intense pleasure while I fondle her tits and stroke her belly.

Before we collapse in a cuddle puddle at 4 am, we talk about our fantasies. "I want to fuck you." "Oh god, I want you to fuck me. Oh fuck yes." "When can I take you shopping for toys, pretty girl?" That shy, demure smile again. It drives me fucking crazy. "When?" "Soon. But I'm scared." "Shhh. It will be perfect. We'll take it slow and use lots of lube. It won't even hurt, baby girl. I'll take care of you. I won't hurt you." "Yeah? Okay...okay." And we kiss, relieved, amazed, exhausted.

The next morning, he woke me with a very male erection pressed against my back, and we fucked again, but as our usual selves. After breakfast, I hand him a pretty red scarf that I had bought with him in mind, and I tell him, "I expect that scarf to smell like you when you return it to me next week. Wear it." "Yes sir."

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Shit! Holy fuck! So hot! I am still reeling.

In Which Carnita Outlines a List of Dating Criteria and Relates a Tale of an Unexpected Hot Date With a Local Celebrity

Since I have been thinking so much about learning how to set boundaries that are more likely to result in manifesting what I want out of my love relationships, I thought that it would be a good idea to make a concrete list of things that I expect out of the next person I end up in relationship with/making love to. It's my way of setting intentions and signaling them to the universe, I suppose. I pasted the list in at the end of this post.

On another related but different topic, I had a fucking incredible date with someone new last night. To clarify just how awesome it was for me, I'll say this: If my next couple of dates with Silas go as well as the first and things seem to be naturally progressing (and I can check off a few more items on the list), then I will willingly stop sleeping with anyone else other than Peter without being asked to. I will have the gentle let-down conversation with Colin, Dante, Caleb, and anyone else whom I might discover lurking around the edges of my life, hoping to get a piece of me at some point. And if this happens, I will be totally happy with my lot and rest easy at my two-lover status. (Judging by the make-out session I had last night, I doubt I could handle much more sexual energy...) But we shall see if he turns out to satisfy my exacting criteria before making any bold moves.

So, I suppose some explanation of where the hell this even came from is in order. Silas is, as mentioned, somewhat of a local celebrity, so much so that, lest I risk my and his anonymity, I hesitate to give any more detail about him except to say that he is a very prominent performer in the area who is involved in many arms of my town's arts scene. I have been watching him and admiring his work ever since I first moved here almost ten years ago, but I never really dared to imagine that his affections might some day fall on me.

Now that we've interacted outside the performer/audience dynamic, of course, I realize that he's actually quite human and that it makes perfect sense that we would like each other. The rock star in my imagination came down to earth to meet me, and he is sweet and sexy and available. Mrrrow.

I'll have to explain the run-down about our date (maybe plural "dates" by then) when I have more time. I have to meet Jess to practice the fire spinning moves Silas taught me last night.

I realize that I am making myself seem a bit crazy again, what with all the mind-changing over the course of sometimes less than twenty-four hours. Oh well. The weather of my heart goes through periods of accelerated change, I suppose.

(Side note: the petty child inside me is delighted by the prospect of dating someone of whom Lachlan is openly envious. That is another story, and I don't want to indulge the feeling by explaining it too much, either. It's a nasty, base little feeling. But it's there.)

...On to THE LIST!

From now on, before I get too heavily sexual with anyone, I need to establish that at least half of the following criteria are met. In no particular order, my ideal sweetie...

- Doesn't have any major known interferences that will keep him from being present  for the relationship in the foreseeable future.

- Does not have a known reason why he might suddenly leave the relationship over something that is completely outside of my control.

- Does not want children or marriage.

- Is independent and does not need constant ego-validation.

- Openly asks for validation when he needs it.

- Is generally capable of being vulnerable, and can handle others' vulnerability with love and compassion.

- Is curious about me and seeks out information about my life, what motivates and interests me, and my ways of understanding.

- Notices my peculiarities, and likes most of them.

- Understands and respects my perspectives on most things even if he does not agree with them.

- Respects boundaries without whining.

- Is open and honest about his feelings and actions regardless of perceived possible outcomes. 

- Has strong communication skills, and does not shy away from using them.

- Has emotional depth and maturity.

- Can hold space for expression of strong emotions without freaking out or assuming that he is being threatened somehow.

- Has a broad capacity for loving and caring for more than one person at a time.

- Is sexually uninhibited/has little to no sexual shame

- Is basically confident and aware of being in charge of his own destiny.

- Is busy with plenty of fulfilling activities.

- Acknowledges me in public.

- Never pretends that we are not involved in order to manipulate a situation to his advantage.

- Is responsible and conscientious about keeping agreements and seeking consent as often as he needs to in order to make me and/or other partners feel safe and considered; does his part to keep everyone informed at all times.

- Prefers having open conversations about boundaries over making assumptions about them.

- Is not squeamish about being in the presence of his partners' other partners.

In Which Carnita Writes a Letter to Dan Savage

I wrote this letter to my hero today. We'll see if he answers!

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Dear Dan,

I'm a polyamorous heteroflexible woman in my mid-twenties, and I've been with one particular male partner for a few months. The sex is AMAZING, and trust and vulnerability come easy between us. Nothing is off limits, and every sort of sexual adventure that might strike our fancy seems possible. However, neither of us is very experienced with some of the kink that we're interested in exploring together, so we're on a steep learning curve. 

There's one thing in particular that I want your advice about. My honey has been feeling a strong desire for some gender play lately (and he works for himself, so he can pursue this desire to his heart's content). Not only does he want to transition into a more feminine role--dressing in women's clothes, adopting more feminine mannerisms, etc.--but we also want to figure out ways to incorporate his new gender expression into our sex life. I am so excited that he wants to explore this new avenue with me, and I am enthusiastic about doing whatever I can to make his fantasies come true. I want to treat him like a lady! He has mentioned being taken out on the town in drag and playing with clothes and cosmetics together, all of which sounds like lots of fun, but how about the more erotic side of things? I don't even know where to start! I've always been pretty sexually submissive and feminine, I'm petite and delicate while he is tall and muscular, and I have never even thought about how I could play up my masculine side in a sexual dynamic. But if I had a way to conceptualize my approach, I know I could immerse myself in the experience and have a great time with it. The tips I've read on a few BDSM info sites seem a little corny and don't exactly fit my sense of aesthetics. So, do you have any tips or tricks to offer about how I can masculinize myself in erotic situations and/or make him feel more feminine? Can you recommend some good resources for queer-positive erotic lit that could feed my imagination? 

Thanks Dan! I read your column religiously, and I have been saving my first letter to you for something that felt really important and interesting. I hope you have time to respond. Feel free to edit/condense.

His Gender Liberation Playmate

In Which Carnita's Crazy Day Improves

Apparently I need this blog very much as a space to record a lot of intense processing lately. I am glad I have an outlet.

So I called Peter, and of course everything got much better with a little of his stillness and compassion. Wonderful, wonderful person. Most of what I want to get down (hopefully quickly...I've been so long-winded today) is just a few of the highlights of the conversation I had with him.

First off, through a back-and-forth sort of thing in which we were comparing notes about our relationship experiences of the last few days, I arrived at a revelation about how to approach the process of creating healthier boundaries for myself to avoid situations where unhealthy friendships end up taking up too much of my energy and getting their poison too close to me. If you read my post from earlier today about Jamie, it should be obvious what I'm mainly referring to. So the method I'd like to experiment with is sortof a benchmark test, and here's how it goes: If I am wondering whether a person is worth an investment of my time and energy, I want to think about and/or test whether he or she can handle conflict without flying off the handle.

Indicators of poor conflict resolution skills might include: a tendency to overreact to perceived judgments (even ones delivered lovingly); an inability to own their emotions DURING the conflict itself (and not just afterwards as damage control); an unwillingness to accept conflict, unpleasant emotions, and intense communication as natural and healthy parts of a loving relationship; a tendency to hold back feelings, opinions, and judgments until the pressure builds to such a high level that the only responses they can fathom are angry, vicious, hurtful explosions of shaming and blaming; or the general inability to hold space for emotional expression with courage and fortitude. That was a rambling list with a lot of overlap, but like I said, I'm trying to get it down quickly so I can go to bed.

The basic point, though, is that I need to develop some ways to fine-tune my boundary-drawing mechanisms and be a bit more reflective and self-caring when it comes to choosing who I will spend energy on. Peter made the excellent point that this is a necessary aspect of honoring ourselves as precious creatures whose time and effort is valuable. I have been much too floppy and permissive about letting other people draw boundaries because it is easier for me to adjust, it seems, than for others to adjust to my preferences.

The scarcity mentality I've been operating in has replicated this belief in my mind for a long time, and has become self-fulfilling in ways that I don't like at all now that I am aware of it. So, time for a change. I'm not going to start manifesting healthier relationships in my life while I'm obsessing over the impossibility of finding them in this fucked up world. While the world gives us plenty of evidence to go on that it is basically awful and people are small and cruel, there is also plenty of evidence to the contrary. The latter is what I'm going to interest myself in.

The other super interesting part of the conversation came when Peter shared with me that one of the most significant things that has happened for him in the last few days is a sudden and overwhelmingly compelling reconnection with his feminine side. He's been dressing in women's clothes and toying with the idea of transitioning in a more intentional and longer-term way to a femme sort of role. He was so cute about it. At one point he sighed loudly and said, exasperated, "I just can't keep wearing all these frumpy men's clothes!" I giggled. He said that being able to wrap himself in woman things felt like an immense release in a way that it never has before. I was totally excited for him, and I said that I would like for him to tell me if there is any way I can assist, i.e. with his wardrobe, or by helping him wax hair off, or...you know...with sex.

Oh, reader. He perked right up at this. We spent the next hour talking about fantasy scenarios of his and how we could make them happen. He asked if I would take him out while he wears full drag and play wing to him as he embodies woman-ness for the evening. Hell yes I will, and would you like me to queer it up as a boy, Peter? Yes, in fact, he would like that. And, reader, will I enjoy removing his leather miniskirt and bra later that evening? Indeed, I will. Mrrrrrow. We gave each other homework to do more reading about dominance play and do a lot of thinking and dreaming about possibilities. Even though we are both very new to the practice of role play and other kinky doings (and we know first-hand that many of our initial experiments may be quite awkward), we are both totally game. We were thoroughly excited by the time we hung up. Yay!

I am exhausted from making out until 2:00 am and holding back tears all day. Time to sleep. Goodnight, lovelies!

Amazing Article About Jealousy!

This popped up on /r/polyamory today, and I was so happy to see all this information articulated so thoroughly. I'd love to own one of Ms. Anapol's books. Here is the link to the article: http://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/love-without-limits/201111/polyamory-without-tears

In Which Carnita Has More Vehicular Fun With Colin and Somehow Incurs an Old Friend's Wrath

Happy bits first: Last night I stayed up much too late talking to and making out with Colin. I'm a happy, sleepy girl...again. Ha. I'm still feeling reserved about how far things should go and when, but I was reassured by the ease with which he could be convinced to tell me his life story without holding back. He doesn't exactly have much blindingly brilliant insight about how his upbringing affected his development--it's a pretty atypical story, and I was totally enraptured as he told it--but he certainly understands more about himself than I had originally assumed, and he seems to want to try to be as honest and straightforward as possible. He told me that his girlfriend is moving here within a few months, that they have a sortof "don't ask don't tell" policy regarding their sexual choices while they're apart (which creeps me out a bit), and that he is a former addict. None of these are pretty realities, but I am relieved to hear the truth. I think that I can relax a little bit about the implications of getting involved with him as long as I keep my wits about me.

So, on to the sexy stuff. I am totally excited about the first time we get to be naked in a private place together. His intimate personality is a completely different sort from Peter's. (Of course, so far I love them both!) On the one hand, Peter's movements tend to be firm, intentional, and often very slow and sensual. He has a dynamic range of intensity levels, and he switches between them smoothly and frequently. He's confident and uninhibited and knows what he is doing. He vocalizes freely and loudly from deep in his belly. He flows. This is all way hot.

On the other hand, Colin is sortof explosively energetic, moving in the tense, frenetic way of an impossibly excited pit bull puppy...which is also totally hot, despite how weird the comparison may sound! I'm always having to ask him to put brakes on his intensity, and he'll be able to manage it for a minute or less before he's frantically licking and tugging and nibbling at me again, panting and moaning, exploring every inch of my still-clothed body. He seems to come from everywhere at once. When I have my eyes closed, it feels like he has more than two hands because of the way they flutter all over me. He makes these desperate, pleading sorts of sounds in his throat every time he touches me somewhere new, notices a new curve, or bends his head to offer more of his neck or ear to my searching mouth. His every muscle seems to beg for release. He was actually visibly trembling with desire for much of the time leading up to the moment when I finally got him off. There's something incredibly sweet about the ardent, teeth-gritting need in a really young guy's lust. I think I could make a delightful game of trying to blow his mind in more and more dramatic ways each time we tangle. I think, for instance, that I may eventually ask him if he would allow me to tie him up...yum. His head might explode.

Yeah, that brings up a good point about what's so interesting and unique about the dynamic with him: he brings out my long-dormant domme side. I like the idea of cultivating a little bit of a counterpoise to my usual role (which I've heard described as "pushy sub") and broadening my range of sexual expression a bit.

Anyhow, I hope it works out, but if it doesn't, I won't be too crushed. Unfortunately, I suspect that my happy Colin story and my unpleasant Jamie story may have something to do with each other...

(Interjection: Lachlan just walked in again and sat down to chat for long enough to insert himself into my thoughts. *Sigh* If he had taken the offer of my love, there might be very little for me to write about here, reader. He's still my white buffalo, the one that got away.)

** (See edit below)  I'll start with a bit of backstory about the latest drama that has little to do with me and yet affects me. So there's this girl Jamie, right? I've known her almost since I've lived here. We worked together at a little specialty foods market, where she was one of my managers, during a few of the years I was in college. At first we were really tight, but our friendship's history since she broke up with this abusive man she was with for some years is splotchy and blemished. You would think that things would improve once the friend leaves the nasty relationship, and I suppose that in the most important ways they have--i.e. she's not getting beat up and talked down to every day--but since then we've had all sorts of tension.

There are the two patterns that my long silences with Jamie tend to follow (both incredibly similar, actually, to the patterns I have with my oldest friend from high school, Jess, whom I mentioned a few posts back):

1.) She flies into a rage over something relatively small, says a bunch of awful things that she can never take back about what said event indicates about my character--usually something to the effect of how arrogant and sanctimonious I am--and tells me to go fuck myself. I am totally baffled, but I give her the space she's clearly asking for. Eventually she comes around, apologizes, and wants to be friends again. Since I have no pride and I get very bored and/or uncomfortable with unresolved conflict, I'm generally happy to let her back into my life, and we resume hanging out. If we include the present situation, she has done this three or four times in the almost eight years that we've known one another.

(Side note: I'm seriously considering whether this laissez-faire strategy has been working for me as well as I think it has. I've tended to think of my easy forgiveness thing as successful because I generally get to keep all of my friends. However, it may be worth considering that sometimes one should hold a boundary and be more discriminate about how often repeat offenders are let back into the perimeter. Yeah. I really need to think seriously about that issue. Anyway, back to the reasons why Jamie and I "break up" for periods of time...)

or 2.) I get tired of/disgusted with/disturbed by her frequent drunken misbehavior and withdraw from her, with varying degrees of explicitness about the boundary. This is what had happened the last time we didn't talk, and it was probably the longest silence we'd ever had. I think that she had just done her thing from #1, but we had drifted back together without processing much of what had happened at all. Then I realized that not only was she still holding on to lots and lots of animosity towards me, but she also had started to really bore me with how dull and obnoxious she became when she drank, which was pretty much all the time. These were reason enough for me to tell her, in perhaps less-than-polite terms, to leave me alone and stop "feigning closeness" (my exact words, I believe).

Recently, yet again, we had a quiet reconciliation in which we simply drifted back into the habit of hanging out a bit without any direct conversation about what had happened. One other tiny bit of backstory is that around this time Jamie told me that she had made out with Colin once. She said she had tried to sleep with him, but it didn't happen because he was too "emotionally unavailable." My translation of that is: "not attracted to you, Jamie." I thought that immediately because I know a few things about her--she's tried to jump on me when she was shitty drunk more than once before--and Colin sheepishly confirmed that whatever story he told her about the girlfriend back home was basically his way of letting her down easy. He feels terrible about ever hooking up with her at all, but he feels (probably very wisely) that as the new guy in town, he must be very careful about alienating anyone. He ain't dumb, ladies and gentlemen.

This brings us to the most recent shit show, which has me considering drawing a very strong and durable boundary with Jamie. The only obstacle that might make me consider forgiving and moving on as pals after this is the fact of how incredibly inconvenient it is to have enemies in such a small town where everyone I know hangs out at a small number of places and can't avoid seeing each other. Otherwise, fuck this shit. Anyway...

So I logged in to facebook when I got home after dropping Colin off last night to check the event page for Peter's workshop, and what I saw was appalling. The first thing was a late-night post from Jamie in which I had been tagged (first and last name with a link to my profile!) and which read, "Intimacy is not for tourists of the heart, Carnita." She had unfriended me, as well. Then, the worst thing: I went to the event page for Peter's workshop, and there was a post from her that said something like, "Paying to participate in an orgy is just beyond me." She had commented on her own post a couple of times, but I forget exactly what they said. I do remember that they contained suggestions that participants must be prostitutes or something. Fortunate that I was able to shame her into taking them down, but not before lots of people saw it, I'm sure.

So, the damage can't be undone, I'm totally humiliated that one of MY friends was responsible for such a crude remark on Peter's main advertisement for an event he's been looking forward to and planning for months, and I have no idea where this came from. I can't help but think that she is upset that I have been getting it on with Colin...but I have no idea how she would have found out. Anyway, silly drama bullshit aside, there is probably an important question in all this: should I be more vigilant about protecting my energy from hostile people? This is the main thing I'm struggling to answer for myself right now.

**EDIT:
After I finished this post, I received this message from Jamie:

I realize I acted like a middle schooler. That was stupid and childish of me, I've deleted my posts, yet somehow I'm not sorry. It was just odd because I had been thinking alot about sex and intimacy since our last conversation, then I started having people ask me if I had gotten the invite to your orgy...Yeah, its not an orgy but some people have been thinking that.

I don't really care to enlighten you on my feelings right now. We're on completely different learning curves, and I feel no need regress. Have fun on your path. I'm going to stick to mine.


I responded with this:

It's not an orgy--it's actually a no-touch event that has almost nothing to do with sex except in that sex has to do with everything, which you might understandably not pick up on from the facebook invite--but I don't particularly care what anyone thinks, obviously. 

It was nice having another brief tour of friendship with you, and I'm sad that it has to end in such a hostile and ugly way. I don't recall doing anything to harm you, but I suppose you're as entitled as anyone else to do as much smearing as you wish. I expect it from acquaintances and suchlike. However, huddled with the herd and pointing and laughing from the corner just isn't where I imagined you, old friend, would end up in relation to me.


I am absolutely baffled and hurt. I want to go home and cry very badly, but I have at least two and a half more hours of work to go. I don't know whom to talk to. It seems like Peter is the wrong person. I'm freaking out.

In Which Peter Makes a Surprise Visit and Wows Our Protagonist With Tantra

Wow, Carnal Porridge is suddenly getting more traffic than ever! Thanks to all the people who have come over to check me out from /r/sexpositive and /r/polyamory. I hope you might subscribe and keep checking up on my doings. Please remember that I want you to link me to your blogs, too--especially the sexy/poly/relationship-oriented ones. Love to all the Redditors!

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I'll have to devote less time and space to Peter than he deserves because I have to get around to some other news and I have to leave my post in a few minutes.

Alright, here's the skinny on the fat and marrow and gritty organ meat of my life at the moment: Friday night, Val accompanied me to Peter's introductory presentation at a new alternative healing arts school that is opening in the area. The point was basically to entice interested attendees to enroll in his first workshop series on cultivating intimacy and vulnerability. (Note: I was giggling every time I said things like this a few weeks ago, but now I'm just sincerely supportive of and enthused about the idea of Peter bringing his gifts to the rest of the world. Lawd knows he brings them to me in an amazing friendship and fucking incredible sex.) We had a great time participating in all the little presentations, including short introductions to Qi Gong movement and Tantric breathing. Val and I drank foul-tasting herbal witches' brews and stirred our energy around in circles with the rest of the hippies, somehow suppressing our giggles by squeezing each other's hands as we shot sidelong glances at each other.

Once it got around to Peter's presentation, though, we were absolutely un-ironically impressed. I wish I felt comfortable linking to his blog, where you can find a transcript of part of his speech...but alas, it would compromise my anonymity. Sadface.

We left about halfway through the schedule of presenters, and I was a little disappointed that it seemed like Peter wasn't planning to stay the night with me and that he had been totally distracted (understandably) for the few moments we had spent together after two weeks' absence. I had felt so much love and appreciation for him as I watched him sitting so still and erect and dignified in his vulnerability up on the little improvised stage, building the mah'fuckin' intimacy revolution before my very eyes. I was pining for him by Saturday--a situation that was not helped by the nearness of my period and the consequent intense sex-starvation I was experiencing--but I played it cool. I didn't call, I just sent an encouraging e-mail to let him know how much we had enjoyed his presentation.

But then, to my surprise, he called me on Sunday. I was ecstatic to hear from him, but I tried to play it cool then too. He had some pretty specific business to discuss with me, the most important of which was a situation in another of his relationships that was confusing him and about which he was requesting a little perspective. I felt so honored that he would come to me with his problems like that, that he would think of me as someone to trust with such personal information. What a darling. Anyway, we talked for over an hour, and I mostly listened, but I offered a few points. He seemed to feel much better about the situation after talking about it, and I was all warm around the heartspace as we hung up.

And then more surprises! I got a phone call from him a few hours later asking if he could come stay for the night if he could find a car to rent from someone at the commune. "OF COURSE YOU CAN, SILLY." And so he showed up, I made a light but delicious dinner, and we eagerly retired to the bedroom.

Holy fuck holy fuck holy fuck. I feel like I need a whole separate post dedicated to that beautiful, sensual, hot hot hot tumble. Afterwards, he led me in a Tantric breathing exercise. This was my first experience with such things, and I was very impressed by the potent energetic synching effect of one part in particular: sitting in a sortof mirrored swirling shape, face-to-face with our hips very close, we breathed into and out of each other. As he exhaled, I inhaled straight from his mouth and vice versa. I felt  so ineradicably connected to him right then, like we were two halves of one pair of organs, or two stars pulsing and orbiting one another in tandem. Finally, we went to sleep, but I woke up again around five in the morning feeling tortuously hungry for him. We fucked again, and I fell back to sleep for an hour before I had to rise for work and leave him sleeping in my bed. It was one of the sweetest nights in my recent memory. My roommates were, by the way, very sweet not to complain about our noise...

When I got home from work later on Monday, there was a note taped to my headboard: "Thank you for a lovely evening. I feel rejuvenated and thoroughly fucked." I'm on the edge of my seat until we meet again. Unfortunately, I'll probably still be bleeding, and I'm not sure how I'll feel about bloody sex in the cold. (One major discomfort factor is enough!) Something tells me he might be able to persuade me out of my shyness, though. He'd touch me once and I'd melt and all my squeamishness would disappear....

Side note: Looking back a few weeks to my first post about Peter, I find this little assertion of mine rather hilarious now: "So yeah, the extreme limitations of our similarities makes us incompatible as anything other than fond and respectful, but occasional, lovers." Ha! I amaze myself with the shit I can assume sometimes.

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Other slutty updates:

Colin texted today and wants to hang out this afternoon. I think I want to keep things from getting heavily sexual with him until I have a better idea how much chaotic energy to expect there. He's definitely a bit of a mess, but damn is he hot. I just need to be careful with his heart and with my boundaries.

I've talked to Dante a lot in the last couple of weeks--not sure where the sudden inspiration originated, except that I now have Skype because CARNITA HAS A NEW COMPUTER!!! Ahem. Anyway, I've gotten to the point of feeling pretty sad that we'll probably never have much of a chance to explore what could happen between us if we lived closer. He is so very desirable and we do connect so very well, but alas, it isn't meant to be. Talking to him definitely triggers the sadness. I wonder if it would be best for me to try to withdraw a bit, stop lobbying him to come visit me, and just move on. It doesn't feel quite like the thing Carnita would do, but I'm in the mood to try approaching things in new ways. *Sigh* I should probably call Peter and talk to him about it. He is great for these sorts of things.

My apprenticeship with Gwen is fucking rad. I'm enjoying learning a new craft. I also feel blessed to have her in my life and so close, despite our profound differences. For instance, she's not a very verbal person. Through our friendship, I'm learning how to communicate with someone who is no master wordsmith at the same time as I am learning to work metal into beautiful, wearable objects.

Gina (the second person Simon and I had sex with together) is back in town. We've hung out, but there's never been much special going on between us. I'm a little spoiled by the ease of connection with Val and my intense interest in understanding Gwen at this point to care about putting my neck out too far to impress another woman. Besides, she actually said out loud that she hated dogs. Weird, huh?

Val and I ran into Simon at a bar a few nights ago, and the entire experience was much more unpleasant than I would have expected it could be. I guess plenty of people experience much worse things after their breakups, but I wasn't expecting ours to turn so sour after we made so much big talk about having a peaceful parting. I can't really blame him for realizing somewhat late that he is actually still angry, but he was acting like a vindictive, nasty child in passive aggressive retaliation mode.

Fortunately for my self-esteem, I did not bite back, but instead made a graceful pretense of ignoring all his (astoundingly unintelligent) little jabs, even going so far as to be very nice and welcoming to his (also astoundingly unintelligent) new girlfriend. This was much harder for Val, reader, than it was for me. After half an hour of trying to talk to Simon while this girl basically nibbled and sucked on his neck CONSTANTLY, mid-conversation, even as we were standing three feet away (SERIOUSLY, WTF?!), Valerie was about to blow her top off. I was in Zen mode, so I wasn't quite so affected, but every time I think about the tackiness of the whole scene and the stupidity of almost every remark that escaped her little gap-toothed mouth, I shudder a little bit.

I have reached the point at which I have no idea how I could have possibly believed that he was the person I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I feel like I don't even know him now. I still experience such profound relief that every time I come into my house and can go into my bedroom, where I find everything exactly where I left it, and be alone. The novelty has not worn off of how happy I am to be free of what felt, for months, like a sludge I was wading through every time I was around him. I know that eventually, I will be able to return to seeing him the way I did when I loved him, but for a good while yet, I'm sure I will still be reeling at the thought that I married such a person. There is just nothing left between us, it seems, and after so little time! It goes against all reason.

Today, I saw Lachlan at the coffee shop near his studio. No big surprise, but it makes me a little sad. I'm recovering slowly, especially because Peter's presence in my life proves absolutely wrong the belief I couldn't seem to shake a few months ago: that I would never find someone as honest and respectable and sexually desirable as Lachlan. Peter is all of the above. So, the sting of my grief over losing that particular chance at love is subsiding, but I can tell it is here to stay for a while, and will come up from time to time no matter what else is going on. I'm okay with that, because even sad feelings that are real feelings are better than no real feelings.

I am excited about Peter's workshop next week. I'm cheering for him so hard in my slutty little heart. That boy is on his way to fulfilling his bright...um...whatever the atheist equivalent of "destiny" or "purpose" is. More immediately, I'm curious about what sort of mischief I can get into with Colin in a couple of hours. Signing off now.

In Which Carnita Responds to a Questionnaire About Polyamory for a Fellow Redditor's Research Paper

What does it mean to be Polyamorous? (What does it mean for you?)

Polyamory is more than just a choice made out of desperation for me; it actually represents a lot about how I view the world in a more general way. I chose it quite intentionally after much consideration over many years, both because it seemed to reflect the way I experience love better than monogamy (and all the cultural constructs that surround more standard relationship dynamics) and, perhaps even more importantly, because it gives me a chance to be the change that I want to see in the world, as the famous saying goes. Here's the gist of the philosophy I ascribe to that informs my choice to self-identify as polyamorous:

I believe that love, by its nature, is bountiful and abundant. The truest experience of loving resists the "banking" model, which relies on scarcity as its fundamental operating principle. While there may only be so many natural resources in the world, for example, that we can "use up," love is not an exhaustible resource. I, like many other poly people, actually regularly experience the way loving creates more available energy for guess what? More love. And if love (and all the ways of expressing it) can multiply in this way, then we can save the fucking world and transcend a lot of this bullshit we bring upon ourselves. Polyamory is only on way that I strive to enact this principle in my day-to-day life.

Love is not jealous, and love does not seek to possess its object. We may experience jealousy over people whom we love, but we must never mistake this for love itself, just as we should never interpret homicidal rage as its own justification for killing. Jealousy is a base emotion that we would do best to work on eliminating if we want to achieve true emotional maturity and the ability to transcend the fears and insecurities and power-mongering behaviors that rule so many aspects of our interactions with one another.

People need all kinds of things from their human interactions. (Well, at least some of us do!) We are more free to individuate as humans and become more fully ourselves when we are not expected to fulfill all of any one person's interpersonal needs. Likewise, when we do not allow anyone else to force us to fulfill all of his/her/zir needs, we are liberated from the narrowing influence that so many monogamous relationships enforce upon their participants. Thus, in an ideal polyamorous world, we could all flourish and grow and change as our spirits dictate while also getting our needs for intimacy and community met.

And finally, I believe that the basic purpose of life is fulfillment and pleasure. Just take one look at most American marriages and you can probably see why I think that anything, dear god anything, other than that particular misery seems like a better way to achieve the purpose of life. So why not set to work with the infinitely creative task of figuring out, more precisely, how to love well outside that tired old framework? I guarantee that my love life feels much more like play than most people's, and even the work that I get done within my relationships is more creative and fulfilling. I look around me and see so many sad, broken people trying to validate their lives through life-long monogamous partnerships that eventually become more about difficulty and resentment than about love. I just want to shake them and scream, "There is another way! All that misery is a trick! This is not 'the way things are' unless you want it to be so!"

How old were you when you made the decision to become Polyamorous?

I had been toying with the idea since very early in my sexual development, and I had several failed trials in my twenties, but I finally committed to it when I was 26. It has been about a year now.

How is a Polyamorous relationship different than an open relationship?

This seems like a purely semantic distinction to me most of the time, but the basic difference in whether people choose to identify one way or the other seems to lie in how seriously they take it. As you can tell, I take my polyamorous self-identity fairly seriously. I am rigorous about living by a certain set of principles that guide all of my interactions with others. People who call their relationships simply "open," however, seem to think of it as more of an anomaly, or unrelated to their core beliefs. Perhaps they are simply more casual about it.

It seems to me that at any time, someone in a so-called open relationship can flee the scene and go back to monogamy. I do not see this as an option for myself, nor do I want it to be. Some people who call themselves polyamorous, however, would argue that it is only possible to be poly if one is in a serious primary partnership. By these people's definition, I would not even qualify to call myself poly because I am currently a single person with several intimate friends. Obviously, I disagree with these people.

So, as you can see, there is a lot of fuzziness surrounding these definitions, and in some ways, I believe that this uncertainty is appropriate because language is a slippery rascal.

What new insights have you gained becoming Polyamorous?
See question 1.

Why was polyamory a good thing for you?

See question 1. Basically, it makes more sense to me because I (usually) get all the intimacy I need in a setup that feels beautifully anti-authoritarian and highly evolved. The aesthetics of a life without chains appeals much more to my taste than that of a life characterized by other ideals like "duty" or "self-sacrifice."

What were your initial thoughts of being Polyamorous, before you became Polyamorous?

I had a lot of confused thoughts about it, but these were mostly attributable to the fact that I was not yet ready to fully say "fuck you" to a lot of the nasty voices in my head that try to enforce my culture's value system on me. These are the same voices that say things like, "You aren't a valid woman unless you can find a man to complete you! You aren't attractive/skinny/interesting/creative enough! You're weird and unnatural for not wanting children! You'll never be truly successful until you can buy a lot of stuff!" And so on. Once I realized how much of my life was controlled by all these messages, I felt I had no choice but to slice the little demons to bits and start over. Polyamory was one of the things that I discovered soon afterwards as a way to express my resistance.

I hung on for a long time, though, trying to convince myself that there must be a Very Good Reason why most people believe what they believe about love and relationships, but the longer this went on, the more I had to acknowledge how false it felt. I had to finally recognize something to the effect of that old cliché: just because everyone else is jumping off a certain bridge doesn't mean that I should. And in fact, my conscience would not let me do so. I don't know who or what I have to thank for the strength of that conscience, but I am grateful.

After becoming PA, Did you tell your parents?

I have told my mother, and she is still very uncomfortable with it, but the conversation is starting to open up. I don't think I need to bother trying to explain it to my father yet; I love him and want to share my life with him, but he is a very simple and throughly brainwashed guy. Eventually, I may feel like I need to tell him.

If yes, what were their reactions and how did they feel about this?

See above.

How do you feel society views Polyamorous people?

I may have a distorted view in some ways because 1.) I live in a town where there are plenty of weirdos, and 2.) I have a strong and confident personality, and people with less solid opinions don't tend to argue with me. I have actually had many people become very interested in finding out more when I've told them I was poly, and several couples I've spoken to about my lovestyle have ended up making the transition themselves.

Nevertheless, we are a poorly understood and feared sexual minority. I think that many people view us as deluded idealists who just want a way to justify our inability to fit in and/or our addiction to sex. I don't feel at all threatened by that analysis, but I realize that people's assumptions can and probably will affect my life negatively. I am sure, for instance, that if too many of the wrong people around my workplace found out about me, I could easily lose my job. (I am a community college teacher.) No such thing would happen to someone who is openly gay, for instance. I doubt it would even happen to someone who was discovered in a cheating-type affair with a student.

Is the community bigger than one might think?

Yes, perhaps, depending on what one thinks. There are also plenty of people who may not yet know that they are on a path to eventually pursue polyamory...like, for instance, many of my lovers. =)

Have there been/have you noticed/ what are (if any) consequences of a Polyamorous relationship. In other words, do you feel you have sacrificed anything becoming Polyamorous?

I have given up the ability to use simple terms that people can easily compute to describe my relationships. I have given up a fundamental ability to "pass" as normal. Luckily, those were never things I was terribly interested in.

Another thing I've sacrificed is a wide dating pool. Most people aren't interested in getting very involved with someone who won't even feign the intent of promising them monogamy, and it is totally unethical for me to pretend that things are otherwise in order to snag a monogamous person I may be crushing on. So, I get rejected a lot, and I have to make the executive decision not to pursue others whom I know don't "get it," even if they are otherwise totally delicious and interesting. Fortunately, I am pretty skilled at coping with rejection in healthy ways.

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VS. Monogamy
Are there different focus areas of the relationship when being polyamorous?

Highly developed communication skills are absolutely vital for the success of poly relationships. These take a lot of practice to master. I am by no means at a place of mastery, and even if I were, the people I meet are all at different levels in their development of these skills. Effective communication requires a lot more than words and gestures; it also demands that we learn to understand our own emotions in ways that society does not teach us or even encourage us to.

We also have to maintain a willingness to make mistakes and forgive ourselves and one another for the inevitable occurrence of crossing each other's boundaries in ways that bring up uncomfortable feelings. After all, we are in uncharted territory and we're making it all up as we go along. Monogamous relationships, in my experience, tend to come along with ready-made scripts, but the parameters of poly relationships are always changing and adjusting to the needs of the people involved in them.

In terms of maintaining an intimate relationship with each other, how would you compare the intimacy of monogamy  vs the intimacy of polyamory?

Forced intimacy isn't as intimate. Therefore, the intimacy I've experienced in poly relationships, where choice and intention are paramount, has generally been of a much higher quality than most things I experienced in monogamous relationships. My connections to my partners have attained depths that were difficult to achieve when I felt the context of monogamous restriction rising up around me. My choice to be with whichever partner I am sharing my time and space with often feels more significant or meaningful these days, rather than some necessary "next step" in an inexorable process that is constantly striving towards pair-bonding.

Is there a “Standard” structure in polyamorous relationships (Primary and secondary partners?)

Hell no. "Standards" are the tools of the enemy, the status quo. The only standard any of us need to hold ourselves to is active care and compassion for ourselves and those we love, and we should love everyone.

As far as primary and secondary and tertiary and yadda yadda yadda goes, people can knock themselves out with naming things however they feel comfortable. They're just names. Relationships will always transcend whatever you decide to call them.

Concerning Existing Relationships
In your relationship who’s decision was it to become polyamorous? How did it come about, and what was your SO’s reactions?

This assumes that I have a "primary." I don't. I used to, and I initiated it then, but we are no longer together and I am still polyamorous.

At the time, my partner was confused and uncomfortable with the revelation that I am poly. We tried to make it work for a while, but it became clear that it was taking too much of the wrong kind of effort. He eventually realized that he wanted monogamy, so we split. I am happy that he figured out what he really wanted and realized that he wasn't going to get it with me. He was very brave to seize what he knew he needed. We are still friends.

How was the relationship after the transition? (How has it improved, or did it become more stressful… did you find a new attitude towards your partner?)

There were ways in which everything improved for me because I was finally living and loving in a way that made sense to me, but I mentioned the complications in the above question. Furthermore, we had been experiencing problems that were not solvable by any other means than going our separate ways. These problems were both related to and separate from our poly transition.

Are there any jealousy issues while a partner had spent time (sexually and emotionally) with his other partner?

I don't struggle with jealousy nearly as much as many other people seem to, especially when my partners are talented/skilled at the art of staying focused on the present moment (i.e. interacting with me) when we are together. I am very lucky to have one current lover who is a shining example of this characteristic. He has other partners as well as a busy, active life that keeps us from seeing each other very often, but when we are together, time seems to slow down for us. We have an incredible depth of connection despite its infrequency. I would find it very difficult to muster up anything like jealousy towards his other partners; I mostly feel very happy for them, as I feel for myself, for having the opportunity to share intimate space with this amazing person.

The only time I ever got jealous over my recent ex-(primary) partner was when our roommate took beautiful photos of him with his other partner. I was actually only jealous that our roommate had never been so inspired to capture us on film in this way. Nevertheless, after I got over my minor upset, I proudly hung the photos in our living room.

The only other times I can think of are very specific and isolated instances. A few months back, I had one partner whom I was falling pretty hard for, but he also turned out to be monogamous in the end. Basically, even though he had two women in his life whom he liked and who liked him (or in my case, loved him), liked one another, AND were perfectly happy to share him, he still decided to choose. I was not chosen.

I was only jealous for a minute. That feeling was quickly replaced by sadness and grief that was as simple and clear as with any other sort of loss. The bitter irony is that she didn't choose him back. Now I'm doubly sad for my loss and for his.

Once I almost got jealous at the idea of my roommates hooking up with one another, but I'm not even sexually involved with either one of them. I just had a childish thought that if they shared some secret love affair and both lied to me about it, I would feel very sad and left out.

Does any of that even count as jealousy? I'm not sure. I feel so disconnected from that emotion that I can hardly remember what it is like. I didn't act on any of these things, and in fact, I am very committed to the principle that I will never act on any jealous feelings beyond talking about them, and more generally, that I will never blame another person for the way that I feel.

What do you as couples do to find a happy medium for everybody involved?

Talk, talk, talk, and meet one another's other loves. Care for everyone. Don't neglect anyone. Pay attention. And SHOW UP!--physically, spiritually, mentally, emotionally.

What have you learned about yourself, and what internal conflicts have you (and your s/o) overcame (trust, jealousy, communication, honesty) as a result of being Polyamorous?

See all of above.

Are there rules or guidelines for being in Polyamorous relationship?

Yes, and guidelines are a better term. Any more detailed guidelines fit into a few general principles: Seek consent. Do what you say you will do. Tell the truth, and live the truth. Own your own emotions. Communicate frequently. Take care of yourself. Give a shit.

Do these rules get stressed, or is it a flexible lifestyle?

We're all making it up as we go. Some people really like rules. Rules make some people feel safe. Others don't need so much to feel safe. Everyone has to decide on their own with their partners.

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In Which Carnita Attempts Writing Fiction for the First Time in Years

The Web

I have loved him hopelessly ever since the moment he said to me, I will only leave this place with you tonight if we are going to fuck.

I felt then one of the last weak twinges of indignation about the raw facts of sexual difference. Loving him has since cleansed me of it, blasted it right out of me. Before and right then and after then, every hard little truth he let fall onto my head, like a peach plopping thunk into a bushel basket, would make my neck stiffen slightly with the struggle to make the load balance, but each time it got easier and I would regain my composure and feel strong and beautiful in my ability to keep walking. Keep walking. Keep meeting his gaze with dignity and dogged love. And it was very heavy, and I loved him more every time.

I would sometimes imagine myself as a single point in a glistening web of women that waved all around him. Each delicate juncture of filament had a name, a fond memory or two, and a number of shining orgasmic non-moments attached to it.

I imagined that I could walk up and touch every one of them, each little point of convergence yielding to the gentle pressure of my outstretched finger, that I could see with blinding clarity the shape of the woman there. She was still somewhere, going about her business, firing her clay pots or bringing food to a customer's table or dreaming about wild horses. She was a part of many other webs, but I loved her because she shared this particular one with me. Coming to know each one of the women helped me understand my own place, or my relational value, which can only ever be defined by difference.

This is what it means to be a woman: to have an essence as light as an empty Dixie cup, without weight or mass, decipherable only by the shape of the spaces between us.

He had forgotten some of their names, their memories left behind in other cities and past lives, so I would try to read the rippling motions for a sign that would indicate what to call her. If I couldn't make anything out, if the years had made this particular she recede too far for his memory to catch again, I would make up a name for her.

I'd say, Tell me about her.

He would think for a minute, his forehead wrinkling with the effort, and come up with a picture in his head: She was tall and sortof gawky, with no extra flesh anywhere, pelvic bones and knees sticking out all over the place. Fucking her was like falling into a pile of raw lumber. She made sounds in her throat like a choking cat. Her cunt always smelled faintly of biscuits, which made me hungry.

She sounds like a Miranda...

And I would be overwhelmed with love for her. The next time we fucked, I would whisper, Miranda, Miranda, Miranda into the space above his head where I saw her, leaning and watching us blankly, her nakedness made up of all joints and concave angles. Each time I conjured one of them, she would appear closer to us, until I was able, in the last days of the relationship, to tangle my fingers up in her hair and look deeply into her eyes right at the moment when I came.

At the moments of orgasm, we all dissolved into each other, into him, and became the same empty, unwavering center-point.

Now that he is out of my reach, I find myself wishing that all men made it so easy. I wish that every one carried around them such a vivid projection of their histories of love that they had no choice in the matter, that it would be as obvious as their external genitalia, that all I had to do was flick a light switch and see every Janie, Cassandra, Erin, Layna, and Valerie standing right in front of me.

But men no longer understand how to carry themselves on the outside. It seems that most of them retreat inwards in search of a place that is supposed to be an empty womb but never will be. Men are, on the whole, quite lost inside their own bodies.

That is why I have not loved another man since him.

In Which Carnita Muses to Self: "Holy Cradle-Robbing Good Times, You Slutty Little Cougar-in-Training!"

Actually, I really hate the term "cougar" and the demeaning connotations it carries. (Of course, why would I be surprised at the range and breadth of possible insults that one could decide, in a pinch, to level against any sexually empowered woman? There is a ready-made label for any kind of woman or girl who is in charge of and/or enjoys her sexuality.) Some day, I fully plan on becoming one of these middle-aged hotties whom twentysomethings long to fuck. It sounds like a wonderful life of the sweetest community service I can imagine.

I just didn't expect that I would be getting in the game so early! So there's Peter, who is five years younger but astoundingly mature, and just last night I added to my collection a sweet young thing whom we'll call Colin. He is technically only three years younger, but he is clearly in a pretty different developmental place than I. We had a lovely conversation for hours into the night before I climbed on top of him in my car...but I kept having the sensation of playing a teacherish role in the situation.

But really, is there anything necessarily wrong with enjoying myself with a sweet, flipping gorgeous (and fully consenting-age) boy whom I like and who likes me? I guess when I put it as simply as that, the idea of an ethical quandary of some sort sounds silly and dramatic. If anything, I am much more capable than many younger women of protecting his heart, treating him like a valid human, and giving him mind-blowing sex. Furthermore, we both might have something to learn from crossing the age/experience gap. So I'm doing all his future partners a favor, and he is gifting me with the experience of navigating the ethics of loving a tender, delicate creature.

For example, how can I help him feel empowered despite his insecurities and avoid accidentally exploiting his less articulated sense of self-identity? Basically, how do I keep myself from unintentionally influencing him more than I should? To what extent is it acceptable to teach him the things that I believe really will help him to become a more empowered and individuated and whole person? These are the sorts of questions that I am asking myself.

I am reminded of a Dan Savage quote regarding ethics of the age gap. It said something to the effect that when fooling around with young'uns, the most important guiding rule is that you must do your utmost to leave them better than you found them. It's sortof a "leave no trace" approach to love, which has the double advantage of downplaying the effects of natural power dynamics and accounting for the need to care very intently for the younger partner's well-being. (What was this called in ancient Greece? Pederasty?)

I think that this mindful sort of approach seems completely sensible, so I'm going to go ahead and allow myself to look forward to my next tumble with this ohmygod beautiful creature I made out with last night. I just have to keep in mind, more than with a man who is an equal peer, that it is my goddess-given duty to pleasure him beyond his wildest dreams. Mrrrrow. Colin, baby, you're in deeeeeeeep trouble.