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.