I am having trouble figuring out where to start with this one, so I'll just go. Organization be damned.
How about starting with a few things that are going well? Here are some:
I've crested a hill at work that I've been struggling to get over and that has kept me from writing much. This is a happy circumstance.
Things are still progressing nicely and at a sane pace with Peter; he and I have been swapping e-mails since I visited him, we have talked on the phone several times, and we have plans to see each other in my town--and in my bed with its new micro-suede comforter--this weekend.
I am thoroughly enjoying my apprenticeship with Gwen the jeweler, and a pretty significant-seeming friendship seems to be developing there, as well.
I fall more in love with my roommates all the time, and we are getting along swimmingly, as far as I can tell. Valerie is getting herself set up in our basement, and I am excited that she is excited. Harvey is as delicious as ever, and we keep ending up laying in beds together or giving each other massages. My only worry is that the depth and nature of my feelings for Harvey rather outpace the practical demands of our living situation, but we'll put that in brackets for now, over somewhere to the far left of the main plot line. The basic gist is nothing negative at all and therefore should not be too troublesome at this juncture: just that I notice that he is the only man in my life who makes me light up in a certain way, that when he is near I feel like he is just about the most fascinating and beautiful person in the world, that I crave his company, that I want to do things for him and take care of him whenever I can, and that I catch myself staring at him and wanting very much to touch him just about anytime he is around. His presence is perhaps more, um, physically and emotionally stirring than it used to be, but not unnervingly so. I find myself getting very anxious sometimes about the imminent possibility that he will find a partner who will sweep him away from me, and when I imagine this hypothetical woman, I feel violent towards her. I don't think that all of these things necessarily add up to some coherent whole that must be addressed in any particular way, but the take-away fact of the matter is that I love him hopelessly.
The three of us have decided to endeavor to quit smoking together. Harvey is way ahead of Valerie and me, but we have a soonish quit date in mind. I hope that we succeed.
I am arriving back at the desire to study martial arts again after only a month's official hiatus. I am still deciding whether to go back to the school this month or the next one.
Things about which I am ambivalent, or things that have created in me a mix of negative reactions and the sense of positive growth are as follows:
Gwen and I have been struggling to understand and get to know one another. We had something almost like an argument a few nights ago, but we resolved it and came to a better sort of relationship contract. It would be hard to describe it without going off on an enormous tangent. The friendship issues don't seem to interfere with our master/apprentice relationship in the studio.
I have to make a decision pretty soon about whether I will journey to Vietnam to teach English next summer. I also don't want to get too far into that backstory, but I can summarize by saying this: I don't particularly want to leave my life in my wonderful little mountain town at all, but my debt situation is such a pressing concern that the long-term trade-off of making enough money to eliminate my biggest financial problems may be enough to get me on that plane.
And finally, things that have been straightup nasty:
The friend of mine who has been around in my life for longer than anyone else--since we were twelve or thirteen--gave me a big, dramatic "fuck off" a few nights ago. Actually, her words were, "Blow it out your hipster ass," and then later, "Go slit your throat." She still has no coherent explanation for this sudden outburst of hatred except to claim that I am an "arrogant bitch." You can see why it is difficult to have a rational conversation with this woman, and why the story of our "friendship" has involved a lot of one-sided ick in which I abide by all my usual rules of engagement, but somehow, she is free to say and do whatever the fuck she wants. I grew out of the relationship long ago, but the shit hitting the fan all of a sudden and so dramatically was a little disquieting. (Peter's counsel about the matter seemed sound: it is easy in our culture to allow ourselves to imagine that abuse and love can coexist. They cannot. Stop imagining that they do, and you are one step closer to a sort of freedom.)
Two weeks or so ago, Caleb yelled at me over the phone for over an hour (about a comment I made that was somewhat inflammatory but for which I had apologized profusely) until I could sufficiently calm his insecurities into a seated position. We parted on an okay note, and he apologized. I did too, because I was sincerely sorry that we had fought over something that should have been more easily resolvable. This week, however, he dished out his issues to me for several hours and very much appreciated the swift kick in the ass that he got. We still have not seen each other, and I am not at all worried about it. I will fuck him no more forever. (Maybe.)
Two nights ago, a guy who works at a local club (who had captured my interest, but not the sexual sort, at an earlier time) came to my house after a show and got very irritated that I did not want to make out with him. He then felt the need to totally lay into me with a detailed criticism of the type of girl I am...saying, in not so many words, that I was a cock tease. I felt terrible about how I responded to the situation, that I had basically clammed up and failed to speak up for myself because I was tired and got triggered by how much repetition of the theme of nasty criticism that the universe seemed to see fit to bring into my life all week. I told him to leave, and it all felt just awful. I called him today and apologized, only for the fact that I had shut down so suddenly and possibly that I had not made my intentions sufficiently clear, but he was still completely firm in his resolve to stand on an untenable position. It felt only a little less awful, and only a bit more clear. Now I have an outstanding awkward situation with the person who sits at the door of one of my favorite bars. Yeesh.
For our last installment of ickies this week, I bring you the OKCupid Super Douche Without a Photo whose nasty comments fell perfectly out of the sky on the day after this thing with Bouncer Dude. (Suspicious? I am.) Our correspondence went like this:
Me (days before, after he shows up on my visitor list): Hmmm....I'm intrigued.
Him: I'm not. You seem like the typical [name of my town] cock-tease who is seeking an alpha who won't complain about your hairy pussy and armpits. We look at it occasionally for a larf of course. Give [name of other high match on OKC] another try, unless he's still on the 17 year old girl kick.
Me (not my finest moment): Poor thing. You actually have to LIVE with yourself. I hope the view from inside your ass, where your head seems to be stuck, is better than the one in the mirror. And if you're some douchebag who already knows me and doesn't have the nerve to say this to my face...well....I'm just so sorry for you. Poor baby.
[If I had it to do over again, I would have probably replied with something simple and clever and not so fucking reprehensibly compromising to my entire value system, like, "Oh pishposh, you must say that to all the girls."]
Him: Oh, the elite doth pity me! How it burns! The 30s roll ever on. You're not getting any younger and the men you want aren't getting any more attached. But no, it's everyone else. Couldn't be you.
Me: Elite? Would that it were so. Alas. You're right about one thing, though: it is actually me who draws that boundary. I am not at all interested in the sort of folks of my generation who are prone to get attached, and I have no desire to be attached. Needy, clingy, emotionally unstable, jealous incompetents who want monogamy, want to live with me or have children, and worst of all, suck in bed. No thanks. I'll take single with friendly joytoys status over that shit any day. I bet you'd be fun for an angry tumble if it weren't for how almost certain I am that you must either 1. be ugly, 2. be someone I already know, and/or 3. have intense mommy/ex-girlfriend issues. Otherwise, keep stoking that fire, baby. ;)
....So. There have been other little instances in the past few weeks of my seeming inability to get a hold of myself and get the fuck out of the USS Idiot Bitch even as the P.A. is screaming, "The ship is sinking! Abort! Abandon the vessel!" Nevertheless, a tiny part of me must admit that I sometimes believe the horribly cynical things I fired off in that last message.
I am exhausted with all these people and with the person that these situations keep turning me into. I think I'll do best, for the time being, to stick to what I know I love and loves me back. I hope that this little rumble doesn't indicate a more general trend of fucking shit up that awaits me. I am aware of it now, and I realize that I need to practice mindfulness in a much more intentional way, seeing as my actions seem to keep having so many unintentional results. I know that I am never as powerless as I may feel, but damn, I really feel weak and small right now. It's time to nestle into my cocoon and start becoming a motherfucking butterfly, bitches.
Monday, October 17, 2011
Monday, October 10, 2011
In Which Carnita Visits the Commune and Writes the Usual Letter That Will Not Be Sent
I am listening to organ fugues and solo cello concertos by Bach. Mmmm...
In a "why I like you" letter to Peter that I will most likely keep to my little self, I wrote yesterday (after returning from my visit to the intentional community where he lives):
[...] In no particular order, and in the knowledge that this is all very young, a few of the things that I adore about you and relating with you so far:
> The contagious effect of your comfort in your own skin--your way of shamelessly seizing, moment-to-moment, the experiences that you desire and value.
> The ease with which you seek and gain trust that is clearly deserved. Existing next to you, I feel naked. And let me tell you, the air outside of all that shame we are taught is crisp and inviting. You carry that air with you. If for some reason you decided tomorrow that sharing space with me isn't what you want or need, I would nonetheless feel incredibly grateful for your influence at this time of accelerated growth and metamorphosis in my life. Your intentions are something I know I can trust, regardless of the outcome of the relationship. I welcome that sort of energy because it helps to crowd out more chaotic varieties. I know that I cannot "protect" myself completely from needy, not-entirely-sane, or spiritually sick people because my life's purpose has much to do with helping them. But interacting with you has been a potent reminder that I need people in my life whose companionship represents trusting bonds with like-minded peers [....]
> Your highly individualized and refined balance of masculine and feminine essence. Without letting to much judgment enter the discourse (cuz Lawd knows I am an ally for trans liberation and whatnot), sometimes I have to wonder if some of my genderqueer and trans friends sell themselves short by missing out on the deeply spiritual significance of gender beyond body politics, questions of "presentation" and "passing" and "privilege," and the preoccupation with social identity. All of these things are important and present some radically liberating perspectives on the construction of gender; nevertheless, all of these discourses have in common that they never transcend the ego as the site of liberation. In this way, truth will always remain a question of social, cultural, and psychological relationships. I believe that if some of these friends of mine were to endeavor to imagine a realm beyond identity politics that speaks to a deeper truth about the ineffable relationship between embodiment as biologically sexed and socially gendered creatures with the dynamic interplay of energies in the cosmos (and the sub-atomic and cellular and and and)...well, I believe that if they would do this, they might find themselves living in greater abundance and balance and self-love. I experience you as a person who has that shit down.
While sexuality certainly isn't the only sphere in which this balance and dynamic interplay counts, it just as certainly does present a dramatic living metaphor, no matter the gender or sex of those involved. And this brings me to my point: sex with you feels almost genderless. My queer friends want a genderless society, but I wonder if any of them have experienced fucking a spiritual androgyne. (I have! And wow!) Perhaps if they did, they could calm down a bit, relax some tension in their poor shoulders that are perpetually harassed by anger, and stop bristling like cornered raccoons every time someone gets their preferred pronoun wrong. [...]
> Of course, ohmygawd, your lovely body. I imagine that you'll indulge me an animal metaphor here: your beauty strikes me as an equine sort. Running my fingers over the soft turgidity of your perfectly chiseled hipbones, your skin sortof shudders, almost imperceptibly, the way a horse's skin seems to crawl out from under a fly's legs. Unlike the befuddled fly, however, this subtle shiver just makes me want to have you in my mouth even more. If I'm ever upset and you need me to chill the fuck out, just unzip your pants and push my head under the table...
Speaking of which, the idea of you ordering me around is really fucking hot. How would you like to try being handed absolute power for a day? Do you think you could handle it? I certainly believe in you. My whole problem with experimenting with dominance games and role play in the past is probably pretty typical for strong women who desire to submit: it takes someone pretty special to make me believe it at all. You, on the other hand, could be an authority I can get behind...or on top of, or under, as the case may be. Any preposition in combination with any verb you desire, really, as long as it involves the imperative mood. (See, grammar can be sexy...)
That basically explains a lot of it. I had a fantastic time hanging out in the woods with Peter this weekend. We had dinner with people from his communal house, hopped in a sauna, had lots and lots of beautiful sex in a tiny cob cabin, took a little hike up into a gorgeous woodland holler, had more beautiful sex, talked a lot, and said hasta luego.
More later if I have time. Life is lovely and busy and wild right now!
In a "why I like you" letter to Peter that I will most likely keep to my little self, I wrote yesterday (after returning from my visit to the intentional community where he lives):
[...] In no particular order, and in the knowledge that this is all very young, a few of the things that I adore about you and relating with you so far:
> The contagious effect of your comfort in your own skin--your way of shamelessly seizing, moment-to-moment, the experiences that you desire and value.
> The ease with which you seek and gain trust that is clearly deserved. Existing next to you, I feel naked. And let me tell you, the air outside of all that shame we are taught is crisp and inviting. You carry that air with you. If for some reason you decided tomorrow that sharing space with me isn't what you want or need, I would nonetheless feel incredibly grateful for your influence at this time of accelerated growth and metamorphosis in my life. Your intentions are something I know I can trust, regardless of the outcome of the relationship. I welcome that sort of energy because it helps to crowd out more chaotic varieties. I know that I cannot "protect" myself completely from needy, not-entirely-sane, or spiritually sick people because my life's purpose has much to do with helping them. But interacting with you has been a potent reminder that I need people in my life whose companionship represents trusting bonds with like-minded peers [....]
> Your highly individualized and refined balance of masculine and feminine essence. Without letting to much judgment enter the discourse (cuz Lawd knows I am an ally for trans liberation and whatnot), sometimes I have to wonder if some of my genderqueer and trans friends sell themselves short by missing out on the deeply spiritual significance of gender beyond body politics, questions of "presentation" and "passing" and "privilege," and the preoccupation with social identity. All of these things are important and present some radically liberating perspectives on the construction of gender; nevertheless, all of these discourses have in common that they never transcend the ego as the site of liberation. In this way, truth will always remain a question of social, cultural, and psychological relationships. I believe that if some of these friends of mine were to endeavor to imagine a realm beyond identity politics that speaks to a deeper truth about the ineffable relationship between embodiment as biologically sexed and socially gendered creatures with the dynamic interplay of energies in the cosmos (and the sub-atomic and cellular and and and)...well, I believe that if they would do this, they might find themselves living in greater abundance and balance and self-love. I experience you as a person who has that shit down.
While sexuality certainly isn't the only sphere in which this balance and dynamic interplay counts, it just as certainly does present a dramatic living metaphor, no matter the gender or sex of those involved. And this brings me to my point: sex with you feels almost genderless. My queer friends want a genderless society, but I wonder if any of them have experienced fucking a spiritual androgyne. (I have! And wow!) Perhaps if they did, they could calm down a bit, relax some tension in their poor shoulders that are perpetually harassed by anger, and stop bristling like cornered raccoons every time someone gets their preferred pronoun wrong. [...]
> Of course, ohmygawd, your lovely body. I imagine that you'll indulge me an animal metaphor here: your beauty strikes me as an equine sort. Running my fingers over the soft turgidity of your perfectly chiseled hipbones, your skin sortof shudders, almost imperceptibly, the way a horse's skin seems to crawl out from under a fly's legs. Unlike the befuddled fly, however, this subtle shiver just makes me want to have you in my mouth even more. If I'm ever upset and you need me to chill the fuck out, just unzip your pants and push my head under the table...
Speaking of which, the idea of you ordering me around is really fucking hot. How would you like to try being handed absolute power for a day? Do you think you could handle it? I certainly believe in you. My whole problem with experimenting with dominance games and role play in the past is probably pretty typical for strong women who desire to submit: it takes someone pretty special to make me believe it at all. You, on the other hand, could be an authority I can get behind...or on top of, or under, as the case may be. Any preposition in combination with any verb you desire, really, as long as it involves the imperative mood. (See, grammar can be sexy...)
That basically explains a lot of it. I had a fantastic time hanging out in the woods with Peter this weekend. We had dinner with people from his communal house, hopped in a sauna, had lots and lots of beautiful sex in a tiny cob cabin, took a little hike up into a gorgeous woodland holler, had more beautiful sex, talked a lot, and said hasta luego.
More later if I have time. Life is lovely and busy and wild right now!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
In Which Peter the Huggable Hippie Reveals a Very Naughty Side
Okay, reader, I know I said that I was on hiatus from romance and/or sex indefinitely. I suppose that what I meant was that I don't want to get involved in activities that feel threatening to my burgeoning sense of autonomy. Yeah. That's what I meant. You got that, right?
...Because this unexpected development with Peter is a Very Good Thing, and he is in no danger of becoming my boyfriend (or trying to). And since he is a seasoned poly guy who has chosen this way of life as the result of possessing an excess of love--seriously, I've met very few people who so constantly ooze with love and light--I can 'fall for him' in whatever way seems natural without worrying, as with Lachlan, that I will have to give him up for some reason that feels artificial to me. I know, too, that we are far too different to end up in anything resembling partnership, but will instead have to be able to admire one another from a fair distance. I mean, the guy lives on a rustic commune that is nearly an hour away, he hosts workshops on intimacy and non-violent communication, and he plays a fucking Native American flute, for Chrissake. He's rather a new-agey hippie, in other words.
So yeah, the extreme limitations of our similarities makes us incompatible as anything other than fond and respectful, but occasional, lovers. In other words, the interaction has the potential to be a nearly perfectly safe scene for me to go ahead and enjoy some good lovin' whenever the opportunity presents itself.
But of course I am not only interested because the parameters seem strategically sound. No, no, no. I have a smile on my face and a stirring in my belly to validate the rest: how good I feel around him, how easily he makes me laugh, how fucking attentive and generous and amazingly hot he is in bed...
Since I am in the mood to write and I'm drinking coffee and chocolate for inspiration, I'll try to back up and explain more about Peter and the beginning of this story. (When I delve into detail apparently has more to do with when I feel like explaining something than it does with what events are most important.) I realized that there is also a chance that I mentioned him earlier by a different name but have forgotten about it. If so, I apologize, and I'll post an edit. His name will remain Peter for now, though.
Peter and I first met when he Couchsurfed with us this past spring. At that time, he was the first polyamorous person we got to speak to at any length about our experiences. In a sincere and generous attempt to help us, he made himself available for many hours over the course of two days to listen to and counsel us the best he knew how, down to busting out the process-based communication games he uses in his workshops. It didn't work out well, in my opinion, primarily because Simon kept resisting the process. Regardless, I got a lot out of our long talks, and I felt a lasting sense of connection to Peter despite the fact that he is exactly the sort of person whom my friends tend to spend a good bit of time making fun of.
A week or so ago, he e-mailed me and filled me in on what he's been up to: living at the commune (which he denies is a commune), working in a nursery, planning projects, etc. He concluded by saying that he would be visiting Asheville soon, and would I perhaps be willing to host him again? Hell yes I would. Thus plans were made.
I went to pick him up downtown, we had lunch, and he took off on his own again for a bit. In the meantime, I met up with Chan for coffee, and noting that he seemed bored with being alone, I welcomed him to run with my pack for the evening. Peter and I met up later in the evening, had a couple of beers at my house with Valerie and Chan, and laughed our asses off for hours as we planned our fictional "B.-Dada-S.M." business. As a result, my diaphragm aches. Chan continued to seem either bored or just completely uncomprehending. We kept wondering what the hell could be going through his head, and he just kept following along...
After leaving my house, Peter, Chan, and I had dinner before heading to my favorite riverside/train track-side bar to sit by a fire. It was the coldest it's been all year since winter, so fire was seeming crucial. During this whole three hour process or so, Peter and I are absolutely buried in conversation of all sorts, from goofy to profound and from conspiratorial to inspired. We also revisited the topics of sex and attraction many times over the course of the day, and we ended up learning much about what turns the other person on. This came in handy later, reader. We finally shook Chan after having a beer by the bonfire, and when we got home, we both fell in bed beside Valerie. She seemed dead asleep, but she wasn't, as we would discover...
We nestled into a perfectly interlocking position under the covers and tried to nod off as Valerie fake-slept beside us. I didn't expect anything to happen...but our fingers started making tiny, slow circles on each other's shoulders and backs, until tiny circles became long, slow lines traced from the smalls of backs, across the trembling skin over ribs, and up to the hollow places in chests until finally, our lips met very, very gingerly and cautiously and softly.
After lots more careful, silent exploration. We had gotten overconfident about Valerie's soporific status, and in one fluid motion that nevertheless made the bed tremble, Peter gathered me up and planted me over his hips. Eventually, Valerie got up in a huff and tromped off to the couch so that she could get some sleep. We felt terrible about running her out of bed, but it is my bed and we weren't exactly expecting to end up in this position and we were just about to move to the couch...nonetheless, she had beaten us to it. She wasn't even angry this morning, dear lady of my heart!
So after we said "Aww, that sucks, we're so bad" a few times, we set back to work devouring each other, except this time without such restriction. Peter immediately pulled from his proverbial pocket something I had casually mentioned to him earlier: that I liked physically powerful men who can pick me up and manipulate my body, that I was interested in dominance play that involved somewhat genuine struggle, but that no lover of mine had yet boned up to the challenge and taken me in the way I have wished, asked to be taken...
And so he TOOK me. Holy shit. We were almost literally fighting. It was something between wrestling and dancing and fucking, anyway. I was choked and bitten and restrained and forced and pinned and flipped and thrown in so many ways I've only dreamed about before, then kissed so deeply and held so tenderly that I could hardly believe I was with the same person from one moment to the next. All this brilliant masculine display of sexual prowess and intuition came from a 22-year old peacenik whose hips are narrower than a ruler! Furthermore, neither of us went down on the other, and there was no penetration, but I can't remember having been so fucking turned on in my life.
(Aside: If sex keeps getting better and better like this for the next ten or fifteen years, then I think at some point I may just blow my lid and die of explosive pleasure. I can't figure out whether it has more to do with the increased quality of my sexual partners or my maturing sexuality. Definitely some of both, but it is very difficult to tell how much of the phenomenon is attributable to each factor.)
Afterwards, he suggested that next time we amp up the role-playing aspect of the game, go deeper, and explore more of what this beautiful thing can be about. I told him that I was a little nervous because I have no experience with anything close to BDSM, but as it turns out, neither does he. (Wow. Really?) If I want to explore more, I believe that he may be the perfect partner for the job: shameless, scrupulously considerate, playful, and powerfully embodied. Oh yeah, and interested in me as more than an object. That's cool too I guess. Ha!
We frolicked and cuddled in bed some more this morning--gleefully, like kids playing tag--and then I dropped him off at his next destination feeling like a very lucky girl indeed.
I am hoping he might invite me up to his mountain soon. I'm eager and excited to see him again...but as I said, it feels perfectly seamless and normal to transition back into my default life. I think I may be getting better at this whole game...
...Because this unexpected development with Peter is a Very Good Thing, and he is in no danger of becoming my boyfriend (or trying to). And since he is a seasoned poly guy who has chosen this way of life as the result of possessing an excess of love--seriously, I've met very few people who so constantly ooze with love and light--I can 'fall for him' in whatever way seems natural without worrying, as with Lachlan, that I will have to give him up for some reason that feels artificial to me. I know, too, that we are far too different to end up in anything resembling partnership, but will instead have to be able to admire one another from a fair distance. I mean, the guy lives on a rustic commune that is nearly an hour away, he hosts workshops on intimacy and non-violent communication, and he plays a fucking Native American flute, for Chrissake. He's rather a new-agey hippie, in other words.
So yeah, the extreme limitations of our similarities makes us incompatible as anything other than fond and respectful, but occasional, lovers. In other words, the interaction has the potential to be a nearly perfectly safe scene for me to go ahead and enjoy some good lovin' whenever the opportunity presents itself.
But of course I am not only interested because the parameters seem strategically sound. No, no, no. I have a smile on my face and a stirring in my belly to validate the rest: how good I feel around him, how easily he makes me laugh, how fucking attentive and generous and amazingly hot he is in bed...
Since I am in the mood to write and I'm drinking coffee and chocolate for inspiration, I'll try to back up and explain more about Peter and the beginning of this story. (When I delve into detail apparently has more to do with when I feel like explaining something than it does with what events are most important.) I realized that there is also a chance that I mentioned him earlier by a different name but have forgotten about it. If so, I apologize, and I'll post an edit. His name will remain Peter for now, though.
Peter and I first met when he Couchsurfed with us this past spring. At that time, he was the first polyamorous person we got to speak to at any length about our experiences. In a sincere and generous attempt to help us, he made himself available for many hours over the course of two days to listen to and counsel us the best he knew how, down to busting out the process-based communication games he uses in his workshops. It didn't work out well, in my opinion, primarily because Simon kept resisting the process. Regardless, I got a lot out of our long talks, and I felt a lasting sense of connection to Peter despite the fact that he is exactly the sort of person whom my friends tend to spend a good bit of time making fun of.
A week or so ago, he e-mailed me and filled me in on what he's been up to: living at the commune (which he denies is a commune), working in a nursery, planning projects, etc. He concluded by saying that he would be visiting Asheville soon, and would I perhaps be willing to host him again? Hell yes I would. Thus plans were made.
I went to pick him up downtown, we had lunch, and he took off on his own again for a bit. In the meantime, I met up with Chan for coffee, and noting that he seemed bored with being alone, I welcomed him to run with my pack for the evening. Peter and I met up later in the evening, had a couple of beers at my house with Valerie and Chan, and laughed our asses off for hours as we planned our fictional "B.-Dada-S.M." business. As a result, my diaphragm aches. Chan continued to seem either bored or just completely uncomprehending. We kept wondering what the hell could be going through his head, and he just kept following along...
After leaving my house, Peter, Chan, and I had dinner before heading to my favorite riverside/train track-side bar to sit by a fire. It was the coldest it's been all year since winter, so fire was seeming crucial. During this whole three hour process or so, Peter and I are absolutely buried in conversation of all sorts, from goofy to profound and from conspiratorial to inspired. We also revisited the topics of sex and attraction many times over the course of the day, and we ended up learning much about what turns the other person on. This came in handy later, reader. We finally shook Chan after having a beer by the bonfire, and when we got home, we both fell in bed beside Valerie. She seemed dead asleep, but she wasn't, as we would discover...
We nestled into a perfectly interlocking position under the covers and tried to nod off as Valerie fake-slept beside us. I didn't expect anything to happen...but our fingers started making tiny, slow circles on each other's shoulders and backs, until tiny circles became long, slow lines traced from the smalls of backs, across the trembling skin over ribs, and up to the hollow places in chests until finally, our lips met very, very gingerly and cautiously and softly.
After lots more careful, silent exploration. We had gotten overconfident about Valerie's soporific status, and in one fluid motion that nevertheless made the bed tremble, Peter gathered me up and planted me over his hips. Eventually, Valerie got up in a huff and tromped off to the couch so that she could get some sleep. We felt terrible about running her out of bed, but it is my bed and we weren't exactly expecting to end up in this position and we were just about to move to the couch...nonetheless, she had beaten us to it. She wasn't even angry this morning, dear lady of my heart!
So after we said "Aww, that sucks, we're so bad" a few times, we set back to work devouring each other, except this time without such restriction. Peter immediately pulled from his proverbial pocket something I had casually mentioned to him earlier: that I liked physically powerful men who can pick me up and manipulate my body, that I was interested in dominance play that involved somewhat genuine struggle, but that no lover of mine had yet boned up to the challenge and taken me in the way I have wished, asked to be taken...
And so he TOOK me. Holy shit. We were almost literally fighting. It was something between wrestling and dancing and fucking, anyway. I was choked and bitten and restrained and forced and pinned and flipped and thrown in so many ways I've only dreamed about before, then kissed so deeply and held so tenderly that I could hardly believe I was with the same person from one moment to the next. All this brilliant masculine display of sexual prowess and intuition came from a 22-year old peacenik whose hips are narrower than a ruler! Furthermore, neither of us went down on the other, and there was no penetration, but I can't remember having been so fucking turned on in my life.
(Aside: If sex keeps getting better and better like this for the next ten or fifteen years, then I think at some point I may just blow my lid and die of explosive pleasure. I can't figure out whether it has more to do with the increased quality of my sexual partners or my maturing sexuality. Definitely some of both, but it is very difficult to tell how much of the phenomenon is attributable to each factor.)
Afterwards, he suggested that next time we amp up the role-playing aspect of the game, go deeper, and explore more of what this beautiful thing can be about. I told him that I was a little nervous because I have no experience with anything close to BDSM, but as it turns out, neither does he. (Wow. Really?) If I want to explore more, I believe that he may be the perfect partner for the job: shameless, scrupulously considerate, playful, and powerfully embodied. Oh yeah, and interested in me as more than an object. That's cool too I guess. Ha!
We frolicked and cuddled in bed some more this morning--gleefully, like kids playing tag--and then I dropped him off at his next destination feeling like a very lucky girl indeed.
I am hoping he might invite me up to his mountain soon. I'm eager and excited to see him again...but as I said, it feels perfectly seamless and normal to transition back into my default life. I think I may be getting better at this whole game...
Saturday, October 1, 2011
In Which Carnita's Mojo Mysteriously Returns out of the Rubble of Surprisingly Deep Heartbreak
I was not expecting, reader, to be so heartbroken when Lachlan ended things a couple of weeks ago. I think I will be grieving for a while yet, and I certainly don't have eyes or anyone else. I've settled comfortably into the idea of a long period without romance or sex. It would take a lot to impress me after Lachlan anyway, and I am enjoying the clarity of this personal renaissance.
Ironically yet unsurprisingly, this is the precise moment when suddenly I find myself flocked with suitors, all of whom are quite nice and attractive, but none of whom I want in the way that I suspect they may want me. I literally can't even remember who all of them are. Let's see...there's Dante, the sexy, smart one I met and kissed at a party and who lives out of town; Marcus, the adorable bike mechanic; Ronnie, the independently wealthy and terrifically slutty fun boy who is sweet and kind to me; Chan, the soft-spoken, respectful, and intelligent Southeast Asian guy; Jackson, the big, strapping farm boy who is startlingly insightful and very dedicated to his academics; Shannon, the boy I used to make out with in college and who would apparently like a re-match; Will, the bookish DJ who is an absolute aficionado of African pop music and documentary film; Dane, the attractive older (married) colleague of mine whose company I enjoy very much and who appears to have developed an unnerving passion for me; Caleb, who started making efforts to pull me back into his life as soon as I had decided to give up; several others of whom I am totally uncertain but suspect that they have been making eyes; and countless other strangers who have clearly indicated their attraction or interest in various ways.
What. The. Fuck?! Where did they all come from? I find myself in a concerted struggle to keep them all at arm's length. I want to get to know them, sure, but they want more than that...and why are there so many of them?! I am the same person. I didn't change my hair or the way I dress...? WTF.
Harvey, dear love of my life who until recently never, ever commented on my appearance or even hugged me before leaving the house, even condescended to comment on the phenomenon:
H: (Puts down book, stares at me thoughtfully) Carn, you're looking good these days.
Me: Yeah? But I didn't change anything...
H: Maybe it's a hormone thing...because there isn't another male in the house. Maybe it's because you're happier. I don't know, but you're seeming more attractive, at least to me.
Me: (Uncomfortable, awkward) Thanks, I guess?
H: I'm telling you, something is different about you. It's noticeable.
...And my sweet funny poly friend Peter, who is visiting today from his hippie commune out in the woods, had this to say about the matter: "There is nothing more attractive than a woman who doesn't need anything from you--who does her own thing and won't be sidetracked by any man. That kind of woman makes a man think, 'Wow, she's so independent. That's sexy. Let's see what we can do to remedy this situation.'" Ha!
One fantastic outcome of the last few weeks of my absence from this blog has been both the re-emergence of my creativity and a few very exciting opportunities to exercise it. My new friend Gwen has offered me an apprenticeship type of arrangement, and I have already begun to work with her in her jewelry studio. Next week, I will start working with her on the far sexier trade: blacksmithing! I am so excited by the image of myself standing over a flaming forge...
I have put a pause on my martial arts practice in order to energetically and financially recover from the last few months' events. I feel a little guilty, like I am copping out in a way, but I truly feel like there are several ways in which I can't afford that activity right now.
Too Long; Didn't Read Version (known as TL;DR to Redditors):
I'm swamped with people who want to date me or fuck me or otherwise possess a piece of me, but I don't want to date any of them because I'm still heartbroken over Lachlan and I want to focus on myself. Otherwise, lots of new, exciting things are going on in my life, and I'm looking forward to exploring new creative outlets.
Ironically yet unsurprisingly, this is the precise moment when suddenly I find myself flocked with suitors, all of whom are quite nice and attractive, but none of whom I want in the way that I suspect they may want me. I literally can't even remember who all of them are. Let's see...there's Dante, the sexy, smart one I met and kissed at a party and who lives out of town; Marcus, the adorable bike mechanic; Ronnie, the independently wealthy and terrifically slutty fun boy who is sweet and kind to me; Chan, the soft-spoken, respectful, and intelligent Southeast Asian guy; Jackson, the big, strapping farm boy who is startlingly insightful and very dedicated to his academics; Shannon, the boy I used to make out with in college and who would apparently like a re-match; Will, the bookish DJ who is an absolute aficionado of African pop music and documentary film; Dane, the attractive older (married) colleague of mine whose company I enjoy very much and who appears to have developed an unnerving passion for me; Caleb, who started making efforts to pull me back into his life as soon as I had decided to give up; several others of whom I am totally uncertain but suspect that they have been making eyes; and countless other strangers who have clearly indicated their attraction or interest in various ways.
What. The. Fuck?! Where did they all come from? I find myself in a concerted struggle to keep them all at arm's length. I want to get to know them, sure, but they want more than that...and why are there so many of them?! I am the same person. I didn't change my hair or the way I dress...? WTF.
Harvey, dear love of my life who until recently never, ever commented on my appearance or even hugged me before leaving the house, even condescended to comment on the phenomenon:
H: (Puts down book, stares at me thoughtfully) Carn, you're looking good these days.
Me: Yeah? But I didn't change anything...
H: Maybe it's a hormone thing...because there isn't another male in the house. Maybe it's because you're happier. I don't know, but you're seeming more attractive, at least to me.
Me: (Uncomfortable, awkward) Thanks, I guess?
H: I'm telling you, something is different about you. It's noticeable.
...And my sweet funny poly friend Peter, who is visiting today from his hippie commune out in the woods, had this to say about the matter: "There is nothing more attractive than a woman who doesn't need anything from you--who does her own thing and won't be sidetracked by any man. That kind of woman makes a man think, 'Wow, she's so independent. That's sexy. Let's see what we can do to remedy this situation.'" Ha!
One fantastic outcome of the last few weeks of my absence from this blog has been both the re-emergence of my creativity and a few very exciting opportunities to exercise it. My new friend Gwen has offered me an apprenticeship type of arrangement, and I have already begun to work with her in her jewelry studio. Next week, I will start working with her on the far sexier trade: blacksmithing! I am so excited by the image of myself standing over a flaming forge...
I have put a pause on my martial arts practice in order to energetically and financially recover from the last few months' events. I feel a little guilty, like I am copping out in a way, but I truly feel like there are several ways in which I can't afford that activity right now.
Too Long; Didn't Read Version (known as TL;DR to Redditors):
I'm swamped with people who want to date me or fuck me or otherwise possess a piece of me, but I don't want to date any of them because I'm still heartbroken over Lachlan and I want to focus on myself. Otherwise, lots of new, exciting things are going on in my life, and I'm looking forward to exploring new creative outlets.
Saturday, September 17, 2011
In Which Our Protagonist Contemplates the Necessity of Failure and the Joys of Platonic Love
Reader, so much has happened. For some time now, I have been in a holding pattern that has killed my creative drives for the time being, but I will try to at least relate the most important bits.
Starting with the most important: Simon and I have decided to divorce. If there are, in fact, any readers of this blog of whom I am unaware, you may be saying to yourself, "How terribly obvious." And yet it took until this very mature moment for me to realize for myself how inevitable it was.
We had a lovely conversation that gushed with mutuality and warm feelings: we should never have gotten married; that institution should never have determined our relationship to one another; Simon had no idea until recently how much he would want things like monogamy and CHILDREN for Chrissake (neither of which, clearly, are available from me); we have incommensurably different goals and drives in life; it is unfair to remain locked in a sexless domestic partnership if that's not what either of us want...et cetera. We agreed about almost everything, and in general, it was probably the smoothest breakup I have ever experienced.
We have both very recently told our parents, and neither they nor any of our mutual friends have seemed terribly surprised. And yet I am still reeling a bit at the thought of how monumental this failure feels. I can't regret getting married, but it was a huge mistake nonetheless. At least it appears to be a mistake with relatively few heavy, interpersonal consequences... *sigh* I was so stupid!
I am sure you can imagine that this whole marriage adventure has been a very valuable learning experience for me. I look forward to a long stretch of singlehood, or at least a state of being without a primary partner. Lachlan and I have been getting along beautifully, and I love the weekly hangout sort of relationship we appear to be developing, but I don't particularly care to take things much deeper than where they are with him. I have been casually dating people from OKCupid here and there, mostly just to meet new people and hang out, but I haven't felt my heartstrings being very available for...um...plucking. I like the cleanness of it, actually: I feel perfectly clear about so many things that felt muddled even two weeks ago.
For example, I finally got around to deciding that Caleb is a lost cause. He came to visit a few days ago and we had a nice enough time, but there was something pretty awkward and forced about it. Then, when we went to bed, he of course couldn't sleep and so got up in the middle of the night to leave. He never called the next day. I am over it.
The nicest I've felt in bed at sleepy time with someone was when I was spooning with Valerie last night. I am perfectly content for the time being to treat my friendship with this amazing and compatible woman as the thing most worth my attention and effort in the social sphere, rather than sinking so much (confused, murky) intention into my exploits with men. I believe she is going to come home with me for Thanksgiving or Christmas, in fact.
In general, our home has become a platonic lovefest since Simon left. Harvey, Valerie and I are such a warmly affectionate and functional little threesome. Being with the two of them turns my heart into a little bubbling fondue pot full of velvety sweetness.
I believe that summarizes it. I feel tired and sapped of creative energy, and this circumstance has made it difficult to write. I will return, though. Happy autumn weekend!
Starting with the most important: Simon and I have decided to divorce. If there are, in fact, any readers of this blog of whom I am unaware, you may be saying to yourself, "How terribly obvious." And yet it took until this very mature moment for me to realize for myself how inevitable it was.
We had a lovely conversation that gushed with mutuality and warm feelings: we should never have gotten married; that institution should never have determined our relationship to one another; Simon had no idea until recently how much he would want things like monogamy and CHILDREN for Chrissake (neither of which, clearly, are available from me); we have incommensurably different goals and drives in life; it is unfair to remain locked in a sexless domestic partnership if that's not what either of us want...et cetera. We agreed about almost everything, and in general, it was probably the smoothest breakup I have ever experienced.
We have both very recently told our parents, and neither they nor any of our mutual friends have seemed terribly surprised. And yet I am still reeling a bit at the thought of how monumental this failure feels. I can't regret getting married, but it was a huge mistake nonetheless. At least it appears to be a mistake with relatively few heavy, interpersonal consequences... *sigh* I was so stupid!
I am sure you can imagine that this whole marriage adventure has been a very valuable learning experience for me. I look forward to a long stretch of singlehood, or at least a state of being without a primary partner. Lachlan and I have been getting along beautifully, and I love the weekly hangout sort of relationship we appear to be developing, but I don't particularly care to take things much deeper than where they are with him. I have been casually dating people from OKCupid here and there, mostly just to meet new people and hang out, but I haven't felt my heartstrings being very available for...um...plucking. I like the cleanness of it, actually: I feel perfectly clear about so many things that felt muddled even two weeks ago.
For example, I finally got around to deciding that Caleb is a lost cause. He came to visit a few days ago and we had a nice enough time, but there was something pretty awkward and forced about it. Then, when we went to bed, he of course couldn't sleep and so got up in the middle of the night to leave. He never called the next day. I am over it.
The nicest I've felt in bed at sleepy time with someone was when I was spooning with Valerie last night. I am perfectly content for the time being to treat my friendship with this amazing and compatible woman as the thing most worth my attention and effort in the social sphere, rather than sinking so much (confused, murky) intention into my exploits with men. I believe she is going to come home with me for Thanksgiving or Christmas, in fact.
In general, our home has become a platonic lovefest since Simon left. Harvey, Valerie and I are such a warmly affectionate and functional little threesome. Being with the two of them turns my heart into a little bubbling fondue pot full of velvety sweetness.
I believe that summarizes it. I feel tired and sapped of creative energy, and this circumstance has made it difficult to write. I will return, though. Happy autumn weekend!
Monday, September 5, 2011
In Which Carnita Attempts to Catch Up on This Damned Blog (and Curses a Lot in the Process) After an Inspirational Evening with Lachlan
I'll backtrack in a minute. But first...
Holy shit, it finally happened: I got to spend an entire glorious evening with my sexy ginger, in private, out here in Camp Reality. I have been patiently and nearly continuously pursuing this man for months with varying degrees of success and lots of confusion, but I have persisted because dammit, I really like this one and the real thing doesn't happen every day! There are plenty of nice guys, good-looking guys, smart guys, interesting guys, etc. but somehow none of the trysts so far in my little journey have quite measured up to Lachlan in all of the ways that matter, i.e. ripples of carnal ecstasy alongside comfort, compatibility, honesty, and respect. I would feel like the luckiest girl ever if I found myself in a situation that allowed me to see him with any degree of regularity.
Even now, I am still among the luckiest. I made a sensational dinner for him, fucked his brains out--FINALLY!--and then slept beside him. I had him halfway to consent with the salmon, for sure. I think I may just have to study up on how best to feed him...
Anyhow, the most exciting/recent thing aside, here's a quick (all I can manage right now) list of other news, in roughly reverse chronological order:
Thing 1: Night before last, I met this lady friend of Lachlan's, I liked her almost instantly, and she seemed to like me. He seemed to be pretty happy with the circumstance of two of his women--he tells me there are more, which I don't find at all surprising--hanging out together. The dude was beaming with what I thought must be self-satisfaction. It was cute. I suppose that her subsequent consent for us to continue to have a thing (or whatever we were or are or will be doing) should have been part of the backstory for the headline news. Oh well.
Thing 2: Simon moved out a few days ago. We've had a fair amount of conflict--not always of the direct sort--and my general comment on the question of what is up with him is that I really, really don't know. I feel absolutely relieved and excited to have space to myself, but I think about him all the time in that seamless way that partners consider each other. It might even be easier to experience that sort of sympathy now, without him around me all the time. I needed this space badly, and I am giving myself lots of time to process. At this point, my way of processing involves not forcing myself to think about it like it is a question that must be answered right away, and so I will move on to the next thing.
Thing 3: Within the last couple of weeks, things with Crystal and John went way downhill very quickly. I am a little angry that Simon didn't heed my warnings that the guy (and she too, by proxy) is unstable and not to be trusted. To shorten a story that is still ugly and painful to me, John ended up flying into such a jealous rage over a single, chaste little kiss that she exchanged with Simon that he ended up openly threatening us in various ways, demanding "retribution," and other such psycho shit.
I can't blame Simon totally; he has never been under the spell of a sociopath as I was with Damon. I could smell that shit all over the guy, but Simon could not. Anyway, we're ostensibly safe now and the dude has backed off of his creeptastic rage, but there were a few days of scary and then frustrating drama that I felt I was being dragged into without my voluntary involvement. Although John tried pretty hard to reconcile things after he had been such a bitch, I just kept hearing Damon's voice in my head and couldn't get into the mood for forgiveness. Simon broke it (whatever "it" was) off with Crystal and I told John in concrete terms to fuck off and leave me alone because if he's looking for friendship and understanding, he'll have to find it elsewhere. Ugh. There is no excuse for his behavior.
Hopefully we won't have to deal with this too much again in the future, but who knows. They're still heavily involved in the same martial arts community that is our spiritual home, and so in my mind, the threat is still simmering. Blech. Right now it makes me throw up in my mouth a little that I ended up getting so tangled in these crazy people's personal issues. I'm sure I'll return to compassion eventually, as always. Hell, I watched a documentary just now about "zoophiles," as they're called, and had a touching moment of sympathy for one of the characters. I'm a total pushover when it comes to staying angry or otherwise maintaining absolute inimical boundaries (i.e. refusal to try to understand) with people.
Thing 4: Figure A: I quietly and less-than-directly broke it off with Zeke. I had lost interest. Figure B: I swear that one of these days I'm going to lose patience with Caleb. Really. I will. (Ha!) Anyway, he's still up to the same things: sucking at communicating with the little gadgets that we all rely on to share information when we live over a hundred miles away from one another; being amazing and funny and sweet and ohmygod sexy just often enough to hook my interest; being a little crazy. He's still Caleb, and I'm still a little annoyed, but it's mostly funny to me at this point. I know he's trying to do right, but he just can't. Ha. Can you tell that I just might be capable of forgiving him as many times as necessary? He's just so impossible to yell at, like an extremely cute and intelligent but traumatized dog that won't come out from under the table. The lovable bastard.
Thing 5: Valerie is living with us for a little bit while she gets established here. Yes, in a way it compromises some of the whole point of having space from Simon, but I actually love having her around. "Wing-bitches" is what we've taken to calling ourselves--something like "BFF" but without the middle-school flashbacks and with all the coarseness that makes our friendship so...urm...hilarious? But it also means that we have each other's backs, and that part really feels like a true story. I pick her up when her car gets towed; she saves me from an awful date in a way that looks, to oblivious icky-date boy, like a natural situation; I give her a place to stay; she cleans my bathroom in a fit of holy conviction; we giggle on the porch and half-ironically man-bash, or we lay around naked...it's just great. I don't get lonely at home, even if Harvey is at work. We're developing into a funny little flophouse beehive over here.
I've had to rush through this, but now I have to get to sleep. I tossed and turned all night in Lachlan's bed last night, and 6:30 am comes early. I still may not get quite enough sleep to hide my depravity from my students in the morning. Ha! Also: My apologies, gentle reader, for the gratuitous cursing in this post. I know that my back hurts from some long overdue sexing, so I can't really complain about the pain too much, but it must be making me feel a bit swarthy. Goodnight, shitheads!
Holy shit, it finally happened: I got to spend an entire glorious evening with my sexy ginger, in private, out here in Camp Reality. I have been patiently and nearly continuously pursuing this man for months with varying degrees of success and lots of confusion, but I have persisted because dammit, I really like this one and the real thing doesn't happen every day! There are plenty of nice guys, good-looking guys, smart guys, interesting guys, etc. but somehow none of the trysts so far in my little journey have quite measured up to Lachlan in all of the ways that matter, i.e. ripples of carnal ecstasy alongside comfort, compatibility, honesty, and respect. I would feel like the luckiest girl ever if I found myself in a situation that allowed me to see him with any degree of regularity.
Even now, I am still among the luckiest. I made a sensational dinner for him, fucked his brains out--FINALLY!--and then slept beside him. I had him halfway to consent with the salmon, for sure. I think I may just have to study up on how best to feed him...
Anyhow, the most exciting/recent thing aside, here's a quick (all I can manage right now) list of other news, in roughly reverse chronological order:
Thing 1: Night before last, I met this lady friend of Lachlan's, I liked her almost instantly, and she seemed to like me. He seemed to be pretty happy with the circumstance of two of his women--he tells me there are more, which I don't find at all surprising--hanging out together. The dude was beaming with what I thought must be self-satisfaction. It was cute. I suppose that her subsequent consent for us to continue to have a thing (or whatever we were or are or will be doing) should have been part of the backstory for the headline news. Oh well.
Thing 2: Simon moved out a few days ago. We've had a fair amount of conflict--not always of the direct sort--and my general comment on the question of what is up with him is that I really, really don't know. I feel absolutely relieved and excited to have space to myself, but I think about him all the time in that seamless way that partners consider each other. It might even be easier to experience that sort of sympathy now, without him around me all the time. I needed this space badly, and I am giving myself lots of time to process. At this point, my way of processing involves not forcing myself to think about it like it is a question that must be answered right away, and so I will move on to the next thing.
Thing 3: Within the last couple of weeks, things with Crystal and John went way downhill very quickly. I am a little angry that Simon didn't heed my warnings that the guy (and she too, by proxy) is unstable and not to be trusted. To shorten a story that is still ugly and painful to me, John ended up flying into such a jealous rage over a single, chaste little kiss that she exchanged with Simon that he ended up openly threatening us in various ways, demanding "retribution," and other such psycho shit.
I can't blame Simon totally; he has never been under the spell of a sociopath as I was with Damon. I could smell that shit all over the guy, but Simon could not. Anyway, we're ostensibly safe now and the dude has backed off of his creeptastic rage, but there were a few days of scary and then frustrating drama that I felt I was being dragged into without my voluntary involvement. Although John tried pretty hard to reconcile things after he had been such a bitch, I just kept hearing Damon's voice in my head and couldn't get into the mood for forgiveness. Simon broke it (whatever "it" was) off with Crystal and I told John in concrete terms to fuck off and leave me alone because if he's looking for friendship and understanding, he'll have to find it elsewhere. Ugh. There is no excuse for his behavior.
Hopefully we won't have to deal with this too much again in the future, but who knows. They're still heavily involved in the same martial arts community that is our spiritual home, and so in my mind, the threat is still simmering. Blech. Right now it makes me throw up in my mouth a little that I ended up getting so tangled in these crazy people's personal issues. I'm sure I'll return to compassion eventually, as always. Hell, I watched a documentary just now about "zoophiles," as they're called, and had a touching moment of sympathy for one of the characters. I'm a total pushover when it comes to staying angry or otherwise maintaining absolute inimical boundaries (i.e. refusal to try to understand) with people.
Thing 4: Figure A: I quietly and less-than-directly broke it off with Zeke. I had lost interest. Figure B: I swear that one of these days I'm going to lose patience with Caleb. Really. I will. (Ha!) Anyway, he's still up to the same things: sucking at communicating with the little gadgets that we all rely on to share information when we live over a hundred miles away from one another; being amazing and funny and sweet and ohmygod sexy just often enough to hook my interest; being a little crazy. He's still Caleb, and I'm still a little annoyed, but it's mostly funny to me at this point. I know he's trying to do right, but he just can't. Ha. Can you tell that I just might be capable of forgiving him as many times as necessary? He's just so impossible to yell at, like an extremely cute and intelligent but traumatized dog that won't come out from under the table. The lovable bastard.
Thing 5: Valerie is living with us for a little bit while she gets established here. Yes, in a way it compromises some of the whole point of having space from Simon, but I actually love having her around. "Wing-bitches" is what we've taken to calling ourselves--something like "BFF" but without the middle-school flashbacks and with all the coarseness that makes our friendship so...urm...hilarious? But it also means that we have each other's backs, and that part really feels like a true story. I pick her up when her car gets towed; she saves me from an awful date in a way that looks, to oblivious icky-date boy, like a natural situation; I give her a place to stay; she cleans my bathroom in a fit of holy conviction; we giggle on the porch and half-ironically man-bash, or we lay around naked...it's just great. I don't get lonely at home, even if Harvey is at work. We're developing into a funny little flophouse beehive over here.
I've had to rush through this, but now I have to get to sleep. I tossed and turned all night in Lachlan's bed last night, and 6:30 am comes early. I still may not get quite enough sleep to hide my depravity from my students in the morning. Ha! Also: My apologies, gentle reader, for the gratuitous cursing in this post. I know that my back hurts from some long overdue sexing, so I can't really complain about the pain too much, but it must be making me feel a bit swarthy. Goodnight, shitheads!
Sunday, August 14, 2011
In Which a Lazy Summer Sunday is Enjoyed by All
I have been joking all day about how difficult my life is. Ha! I've had breakfast brought to me, I've had manmosas made for me, and all I've had to do is sit around and read with Simon and Harvey and Valerie.
Have I mentioned Valerie? I'm not sure I have because she hasn't figured too heavily into polyland except as a wonderful newish friend. Simon met her on OKCupid and we met up with her as soon as she moved to town. Things took an immediate friendly tone, and she started spending several nights of most weeks on our couch. She also camped with Harriet and Tim and I at Transformus. And incidentally, she makes a bitchin' manmosa. So now I have mentioned her.
Oh, what's happened? Hm. I continue to think about Lachlan every day. My desire for him doesn't seem to be going anywhere. The lovelorn feeling of it all is both sweet and frustrating. We swap texts every few days, almost always at my initiation, but he always responds. The door is not locked, but everything is on hold. Caleb seems to have shown that he may not be in any condition to be the kind of trustworthy person I want in my life. He just can't seem to get it together to make time for me or do anything he says he is going to do. He is distant and unavailable, and my patience for his waffling and duplicitous neglect has worn down my feelings for him to tenuous shreds of 'maybe, but probably not.'
Last night I kissed a man at a party after talking with him for hours. Let's call him Dante. The conversation had the distinction of being the first one in a long, long while in which I have been so utterly fascinated by someone that I was content to sit and listen wide-eyed to a monologue. He doesn't seem to be any sort of natural monologue-er, but I was so transfixed and kept asking him so many questions that he continued and continued about his work fighting ICE off of potential deportees. Before he left, I asked him if there was any reason I couldn't kiss him. He replied, "No ma'am." Mmmmm, he had wonderfully full and sensuous lips. I guess I haven't kissed many people who aren't caucasian lately.
We exchanged numbers and have been playing phone tag all day, trying to arrange some time to hang out before he goes back home to a city two hours' drive from here. I frown at that, but hey, what can a girl do?
The situation with Crystal and John turned very weird very quickly a couple of days ago when John sent Simon a creepy shirtless picture of himself with no explanation. That was all Simon needed to decide to withdraw from the situation a bit. They seem more than a little upset that they creeped us out, but they have got to understand, right? I mean what the fuck. A shirtless photo? They claim it was a joke, but it wasn't funny at all.
I think that Zeke is too preoccupied to keep up any sort of other-than-platonic interaction with me right now. He has been distant and unavailable, too.
I've developed a different dimension of fascination with and fondness for Dan. I was telling Harvey, my lovely roommate and increasingly trusted friend, about what I like about Dan. This was right after I had spent a good deal of time moaning and lamenting my inability to get any of my potential lovers to stick around and be at least the tiniest bit predictably interested in me. And so I start talking about this friend who I've mentioned is attractive and interesting and all-around lovable, right? And Harvey just gives me this look of bafflement or something similar that I can't quite interpret. So I'm all like, "What?" And Harvey's all like, "Carn, why aren't you dating that guy?" I didn't know how to answer that question.
Basically, everything is on hold in the sex department and I am super lusty without a direction to focus it except through my vibrator. There are worse fates, I suppose. Otherwise, life is basically fantastic with the obligatory touches of frustration and longing and awkwardness. I am surrounded by love and friendship and creativity, and I'm about to have a motherfucking pizza delivered. What more could a girl ask for?
Speaking of creativity, I have also started practicing to become a fire dancer. Early experiments are going very well. No one ever accused me of being slow on the uptake, after all.
This has been a lazy laundry list. Happy Sunday!
Have I mentioned Valerie? I'm not sure I have because she hasn't figured too heavily into polyland except as a wonderful newish friend. Simon met her on OKCupid and we met up with her as soon as she moved to town. Things took an immediate friendly tone, and she started spending several nights of most weeks on our couch. She also camped with Harriet and Tim and I at Transformus. And incidentally, she makes a bitchin' manmosa. So now I have mentioned her.
Oh, what's happened? Hm. I continue to think about Lachlan every day. My desire for him doesn't seem to be going anywhere. The lovelorn feeling of it all is both sweet and frustrating. We swap texts every few days, almost always at my initiation, but he always responds. The door is not locked, but everything is on hold. Caleb seems to have shown that he may not be in any condition to be the kind of trustworthy person I want in my life. He just can't seem to get it together to make time for me or do anything he says he is going to do. He is distant and unavailable, and my patience for his waffling and duplicitous neglect has worn down my feelings for him to tenuous shreds of 'maybe, but probably not.'
Last night I kissed a man at a party after talking with him for hours. Let's call him Dante. The conversation had the distinction of being the first one in a long, long while in which I have been so utterly fascinated by someone that I was content to sit and listen wide-eyed to a monologue. He doesn't seem to be any sort of natural monologue-er, but I was so transfixed and kept asking him so many questions that he continued and continued about his work fighting ICE off of potential deportees. Before he left, I asked him if there was any reason I couldn't kiss him. He replied, "No ma'am." Mmmmm, he had wonderfully full and sensuous lips. I guess I haven't kissed many people who aren't caucasian lately.
We exchanged numbers and have been playing phone tag all day, trying to arrange some time to hang out before he goes back home to a city two hours' drive from here. I frown at that, but hey, what can a girl do?
The situation with Crystal and John turned very weird very quickly a couple of days ago when John sent Simon a creepy shirtless picture of himself with no explanation. That was all Simon needed to decide to withdraw from the situation a bit. They seem more than a little upset that they creeped us out, but they have got to understand, right? I mean what the fuck. A shirtless photo? They claim it was a joke, but it wasn't funny at all.
I think that Zeke is too preoccupied to keep up any sort of other-than-platonic interaction with me right now. He has been distant and unavailable, too.
I've developed a different dimension of fascination with and fondness for Dan. I was telling Harvey, my lovely roommate and increasingly trusted friend, about what I like about Dan. This was right after I had spent a good deal of time moaning and lamenting my inability to get any of my potential lovers to stick around and be at least the tiniest bit predictably interested in me. And so I start talking about this friend who I've mentioned is attractive and interesting and all-around lovable, right? And Harvey just gives me this look of bafflement or something similar that I can't quite interpret. So I'm all like, "What?" And Harvey's all like, "Carn, why aren't you dating that guy?" I didn't know how to answer that question.
Basically, everything is on hold in the sex department and I am super lusty without a direction to focus it except through my vibrator. There are worse fates, I suppose. Otherwise, life is basically fantastic with the obligatory touches of frustration and longing and awkwardness. I am surrounded by love and friendship and creativity, and I'm about to have a motherfucking pizza delivered. What more could a girl ask for?
Speaking of creativity, I have also started practicing to become a fire dancer. Early experiments are going very well. No one ever accused me of being slow on the uptake, after all.
This has been a lazy laundry list. Happy Sunday!
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