Monday, November 14, 2011

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.

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