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.

Sunday, November 6, 2011

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."

------------------------------------

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

Friday, November 4, 2011

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.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

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

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

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.

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

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.