In Which Lachlan Blushes Through the Telephone and Carnita Admits a Need

Aurgh, frustration. It's lucky that I had martial arts practice right afterwards, or I might still be a little kinked up on the inside.

Lachlan called yesterday. I was rather floored that he had decided not to flake out on the little thing that had started to blossom between us. All signs seemed to be indicating that I wouldn't hear from him again...but it's also possible that I have just been a little pessimistic about people's emotional fortitude since James tucked tail for something like the third time. Nevertheless, my scalp rather prickled with excitement to hear his voice.

The slightly frustrating part was that after I dutifully explaining to Lachlan that Simon and I had agreed not to, er, take any new lovers at the moment--seemingly giving my ginger cutie a bit of a complex, judging by how his voice cracked, he stammered, and he generally seemed super embarrassed--I hang up and tell Simon about the conversation, only to find out that he had been operating on the assumption that I would continue seeing Lachlan. My guts sank a bit at this news. After all the hours of communicating with each other, you would think that this sort of thing would be very clear, but somehow I had missed one of the most important, concrete facts about our agreement.

This little flub was no big deal--after all, I'm perfectly uncertain of Lachlan's intentions, and I'll see him at Transformus in two months anyway--so I guess that a minor miscommunication is better than an enormous and/or damaging one. I've definitely learned that we should be a bit more explicit next time. On the other hand, "more explicit" could begin very quickly to wander into the territory of "more legalistic."

...And in case you're unfamiliar with my typical response to things I perceive as rules, I could try to show you evidence of my penchant for breaking them, but I might get arrested for revealing that information. So yeah. Me and Rules aren't on the best of terms, so just about anything else can serve as a more effective moral compass to me.

In other news, Simon and I have been batting around the idea of finding a room in a house to rent, both for our amorous adventures and our alone-time needs. Daniel, my adorable, just-as-new-to-poly friend, had a few persuasive arguments to make about it when we talked on Monday. He spoke of distance strengthening the bonds of love, of options making life more beautiful and rich, and of other sunny, attractive-sounding outcomes of the two-house partnership model. Simon was hesitant to throw his support behind the idea, but to his credit, he is giving it serious thought, and we're talking about it. More communication! Ha!

In all seriousness, despite Simon's hesitance, I've quickly realized that having another option of where to sleep, make love, and hang out in private is for me an eventuality rather than just a possibility. While I love having awkward, partly-clothed romps in public places sometimes, I'm already tired of the fact that I have no other choice. I've really never had any affinity for the branch of kink that interests itself in the risk of humiliating discovery while in the act, and it's only a matter of time before a cop walks by that tree at the wrong time...

Alright, I think it's time to get back to the grind now. Digital kisses to all my lovelies.