Wednesday, December 5, 2012
"No, Mommy. Those are girl movies. I'm a boy."
It took me a moment to respond, as I was surprised by this reaction. "Sweetie, you can watch whatever you want. You liked Brave, we watched it in the movie theater with the Princess, remember?"
"No. I'm a boy. I want to watch a boy movie."
A few weeks ago the Libertine tweeted about the Mister telling the Monkey that My Little Pony was for girls, and he was a boy so he shouldn't watch it. I wasn't there for the exchange, so I didn't get involved in it. But now the Monkey is limiting what he watches based on an abstract that an adult set for him. An adult who would not only encourage a daughter to watch "boy" shows, but whose mother and uncle are both stereotypical homosexuals - she being a season ticket holder to multiple sports teams and he being the kind of gay man you totally want to take shopping.
Before you get indignant about that last bit, understand that I believe that people are born gay/straight/queer/whatever. I don't think liking sports will make a woman a lesbian, or that appreciating fashion will make a man gay. The Mister, having homosexual family members, would be the first one to tell you that his mother has always been a lesbian. But that's another story.
I don't know why the Mister has been feeding the kiddo this bullshit. The Monkey is your typical 5 year old boy - Transformers, superheroes, anything with wheels. But watching TV with the Princess has introduced us to things like My Little Pony, Ruby Gloom, and Lalaloopsy. The Monkey enjoys watching these shows with her, and she enjoys watching "boy" shows with him.
I do know that the Mister and I are about to sit down and have a very serious conversation about gender bias and its effect on how kids behave. I don't want my sons to have disdain for "girly" activities. I want them to respect girls for who they are and what they are interested in. I want them to respect other boys the same way. Basically, I want them to be good people - to see each person for who and what they are, not for what their label is.
So much behavior that sex-positive people fight against is rooted in gender bias. Women who sleep around are sluts, men who sleep around are players. Young girls and women who like sports or other 'boy' activities (gamers, I'm looking at you) are regaled as amazing, hot, and desirable. Young boys and men who like fashion or other 'girl' activities are ridiculed as weak, unwanted, unworthy.
We are, as a culture, carrying around stereotypes that were created generations ago by people afraid of letting the minorities have a voice. We are finally on the brink of getting marriage equality as a nation, and that is a stepping stone to getting other alternative lifestyles recognized as legitimate as long as the participants are consenting adults. Teaching our children the norms that we were taught as children is doing them a great disservice.
I want to raise my sons both sex-positively and gender-positively. I want them to be prepared to interact with people of all sexual proclivities and gender identifications, and to be confident in choosing their own labels when it comes time. I don't want them to feel like they have to constrain their behavior based on a cultural norm that is outdated and damaging.
Plus, I kind of like My Little Pony.
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
When it comes to maintaining relationships, I'm a very physical person. When life gets in the way of my time to be alone with partners to share affection and intimacy, I start to feel very disconnected from them. I do my best to go with the flow and respect that they are just as tired as I am, that maybe they aren't sleeping well, or work is stressful, or the kids were monsters while I was away at work.
But after several days of this disconnect I get restless, morose, and out of sorts. When asked what is bothering me, my first reaction is to shrug it off and blame my mood on work, tiredness, etc. I know that this isn't helping anyone, that I need to communicate, but who wants to hear "I was just hoping for some intimacy" when they have other stuff on their mind? Who wants to feel like they aren't satisfying their lover? Because it's not about being unsatisfied, it's about connecting to someone on a core level, without all the bullshit words and societal nuances we've made up in our culture.
I don't want my partners to feel like the only thing I care about it sex... but it is an integral part of how I operate in relationships. If we aren't connecting enough to have a healthy, rather frequent sex life, I start to worry that we are falling apart. If we go from multiple times a day to barely once every three days, I start to see potential problems where there probably aren't any. I start to over analyze my own actions and needs, thinking maybe I'm too high maintenance or expect too much.
In short, I get a little crazy.
I know the answer is to talk to them. It's just not an easy thing for me to talk about sometimes. Most men say they would love it if their female partners wanted more sex... but the reality is, they often take it personally when you do ask for more. They ask, "Am I not satisfying you?" The honest answer is, yes, you do, and I want more!
So why can't I just say that?
Monday, November 19, 2012
I recently read an article by Jillian Keenan describing how hard it can be to expose a particular fetish, in her case spanking, to our partners. It got me thinking - not only did I used to have trouble expressing my needs to partners, but for most of my life even I wasn't sure what they were, exactly. From almost the beginning of my sexual experiences I remember feeling that something was missing. I remember moments where what was happening was almost what I needed to orgasm, but not quite.
For the first 15 years of my sexual life, I only climaxed from penetrative sex a handful of times, usually on accident. I usually came via manual stimulation if I did it myself with a partner kissing me or helping me. It was not until I found the Libertine, and also discovered kink, that both of those things became easy for me. Looking back, I should have looked for this outlet years ago. I live close enough to a major city, I have plenty of access to the internet and kink-friendly resources, that I should have put two and two together a long time ago. But I didn't.
I remember being a young girl dreaming about my first kiss. I remember the picture in my head clearly: he would wrap an arm around my waist, pulling me close, the other hand holding my head and then clamping down roughly on a fistful of my hair as our lips met. My actual first kiss was trembling, bodies far apart, neither of us sure what to do. For years I looked for a man to kiss me the way I really wanted to be kissed. By the time I got married I had pretty much given up, thinking that perhaps I was being unrealistic and setting the bar too high. The first time the Libertine kissed me I nearly fell over in shock because he read me like a book, and spent several hours giving me exactly the experience I had been craving my entire life.
When I was 12 years old I got into a verbal argument with a boy. I pushed the envelope of the argument to a personal level, and his response was to full-armed slap me across the face. I was thunderstruck, and so conflicted with the excitement that rose in me that I just stood there, never breaking eye contact until a teacher dragged us both off to our punishments. I have thought about that day many times since, and when I first learned to pleasure myself (before I had concrete physical experiences to draw from) I would use it as a focal point. Being slapped still holds the same effect for me as an adult.
When I was 19 years old I ventured into a sex shop by myself for the first time ever. One would think that my first sex toy purchase would have been a vibrator or a dildo, but I was drawn to a set of gleaming steel nipple clamps. I bought them, took them home, and hid them. I only ever used them when I was flying solo. I never showed them to a partner until I met the Mister. He was willing to use them with me but was not really interested, and after one try I put them aside. When I started dating the Prime last March, one of the first things he tested on me was a set of clamps, and I could not believe the response my body gave when they were used by a willing partner. Now, with the Libertine, clothespins and rough play are two of my absolute favorite things in the world.
At age 22 a partner physically assaulted me during a disagreement, throwing me into a wall and then forcing me to the floor. The situation quickly escalated into extremely hot sex, resulting in one of the few times I climaxed during penetration. At 25 a partner grabbed me as I entered his apartment and ripped off my shirt, leaving it in shreds. After our quickie was over, I was forced to wear his hoodie over my bra while we were out with friends for a night on the town. I felt exposed, aroused, anticipatory. He apologized for what he thought was awful behavior, and when I revealed how I felt about it he seemed to disapprove. I have asked every partner that I've had repeated sex with to tie me up at one time or another. Most vanilla men will do this once in a while, but having it done by a man who is as turned on by it as I am? Words cannot accurately express how much that excites me.
It's not just these things that should have told me I was looking for more in my sex life. During the early 2000's, when CSI was a huge hit of a show, there were a series of episodes featuring a character named "Lady Heather." She was the madame of an establishment that catered to the BDSM crowd. My boyfriend at the time could only say, "That's some fucked up shit." I could only think, "Oh my god, I want to go there." I've probably read the Claiming of Sleeping Beauty trilogy by Anne Rampling (Anne Rice)at least 50 times. Ironically just before I found partners to teach me what I'd been missing, I donated the books out of misery, thinking I should put aside the dreams and try to live in reality.
Today, I'm enjoying an extremely healthy D/s relationship with the Libertine. Giving him the consent to use my body for his pleasure gives me the release I need to achieve sexual fulfillment. Even when we don't play, my response to his touch is immediate and passionate. Finding my kinks has helped me become a better person. I'm no longer constantly wondering what I'm missing, and my confidence in daily life has skyrocketed. I know who I am now.
Sunday, November 11, 2012
After my workout I showered and got ready for work in the locker room. I am not shy at all in a locker room situation. If I'm getting dressed and a boob is showing, so what -you've got them, too. I'm not going out of my way to stare at other women, and I'm not going out of my way to hide my body while I'm in the process of dressing it.
So there I was, in my work trousers and a bra, blow drying my hair. Nothing remotely sexual was showing. There wasn't even a hint of an areola to worry about. But over and over women from the above two categories would come into the shower/bathroom side of the locker room, see me, and make this "ew, cover that up" face. I wanted to punch every single one of them.
I'm a plus sized woman. I live in a body that, while pregnant, saw the scale top out at 278 pounds. I cried that day, two days before giving birth to my firstborn, because I thought that I would never ever love my body again. Five years later, I love my body even more now than I did before I got pregnant.
I love the way my hip curves into my backside. I love that despite being rather large and pendulous, my breasts are firm and pleasing to behold. I love that my skin is soft and my hair is shiny. I love my smile, my laugh, my eyes.
So to see these women - these skinny, "average" women - glaring at my naked torso and my satin-clad bosom as though I was disgusting made me irate. What right did they have to decide what beauty is? What right did they have to judge? Sure, I was at the gym, where people go to become skinny - but that's not why I go there. I go there to feel healthier, to breathe better, and to increase my endurance for my other (ahem) physical activities.
I tweeted about my experience, and The Hippy Chick 33 (@TheHippyChick33) pointed out that perhaps these women were simply unhappy with themselves for not being as confident in their bodies as I am in mine. I'm sure that to some extent that is true, and that makes me sad. Every woman should have the ability to feel beautiful in their body. Every woman should be able to feel sexy and desirable.
I don't spend time looking in the mirror and telling myself I'm beautiful. But I do make it a point to do something for myself every day, whether that be painting my nails or going for a run, or making myself a cup of tea and sitting by myself for 20 minutes. I wasn't able to project this confidence until I was able to truly love who I am, from top to bottom. Yes, there are parts of me that I would like to change, and I'm working on them. But overall, the person that I am and the way that I look? I earned that, I've been to hell and back, I made it, and I love it.
Thursday, November 8, 2012
Tuesday, November 6, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
He then proceeded to run throughout the house chanting "Jawa. Jawa. Jawa. Jawa.. JAWA." He thrust the little figure into people's faces, hugged it, and refused to give it up.
We're training the kids young to appreciate the glory of geekery.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Friday, November 2, 2012
Thursday, November 1, 2012
Tuesday, October 30, 2012
In the little more than a month that the three of us have been sharing a living space 24/7, there have been quite a lot of little squabbles and disagreements about a myriad of things. Having two adult men here is proving to be extremely difficult at times. On top of that, one of them is meticulous and the other is, well, not. Playing the role of wife to the two of them involves two completely different approaches, and at times I wonder what I've gotten myself into.
I'm stuck in the middle, and it's very hard because I can see both sides of the argument. I can see that the Mister is a third shift worker and does not operate on the same time table as the rest of us. When he doesn't get the opportunity to sleep during the day he becomes really apathetic to what is going on around him. Daily household tasks simply aren't important to him if he doesn't sleep, and even things like feeding the dogs will get ignored until one of the other adults does it. He is already the free spirit, get to it when I get to it type, so this just becomes unbearable to the Type A, get it done now Libertine. It bothers me, as well, but I've had 5 years to get used to this behavior, so I have a better idea of when it's coming and how to push through it.
There are moments when I think the Libertine has hit his limit, that he is going to simply walk out the door. That's really scary for me because I'm not sure he'd come back, or if we'd continue to see each other if he made that choice. I love him with my whole soul, and I don't know how well I'd handle that kind of rejection.
With the Mister, it's different. We have kids together, and one of the main reasons that we chose to work through our problems and remain married is that neither one of us would want to give up our time with our kids. We made them together, and we want to raise them together. No matter how angry he gets, he is going to come back.
For myself, the real challenge is finding a way to navigate the hurt feelings and the anger of both men. The Mister needs to be comforted when he is angry, he needs to talk and work through and make his point. The Libertine prefers to be left alone, to think through and assess his emotions regarding the situation. I'm a bit in between them. I like a bit of time to process what I'm thinking and feeling, but I don't like for so much time to pass that I start to feel disconnected from the other party.
I know that this process is going to take time. I know that if we can get through this initial hardship and really learn to live together, we're going to make a great day to day team. But holy hell, getting there might kill me.
Tuesday, October 16, 2012
Another reason for the break has to do with the changes I've made in my life in the past few weeks. When I started writing here, I was writing about my dating experiences, and at first there were a lot of boys to talk about. As the summer waned, and my time started to become more and more constricted, I realized that I don't really want to date outside my primary V anymore. I reached a point where the amount of time I was putting in at work, and the amount of time required to maintain my relationships at home with my kids and husbands was so much that dating became too much work.
I still care for the Prime, but I have stopped seeing him. We have talked a couple of times, awkwardly, but I have a really hard time finding what to say. I don't like being a heartbreaker, I don't like feeling like the bad guy. The Libertine told me that I have an adorably naive way of thinking that everything will sort itself out in the end if I just leave it alone long enough - and that's pretty true. It took a long time and a lot of thinking for me to get to the point where I could say "I can't do this" to the Prime.
The Libertine is basically living with the Mister and I now. He has his own bedroom, and on weekends that he has the Princess she stays here, too. There have been bumps and bruises, and we are all learning to live together, but we are getting there.
I guess what I'm getting at is, if you're looking for poly dating advice, I may not be your best option for reading. But if you want to see what it's like inside a stable, permanent, cohabitating V then this is going to get very interesting for you. We are learning to function as a family unit, raising children, celebrating holidays, and going to work every day. Doing this with three adults in the house is often much easier, but sometimes much, much harder.
What would you guys like to hear about? What aspects of cohabitation interest you the most?
Monday, September 24, 2012
Occupying another table was a couple that had clearly been married for a long time. They were barely talking, let alone making eye contact. They seemed more interested in their phones than in each other. The wife looked like she was trying to engage her husband's attention more than once, but they just weren't connecting.
At our table, there was talking, laughter, flirting, touching. We bantered with each other and with our waitress. We giggled, drank, and generally had a great time. Our attention was focused on each other, but not to the exclusion of what was going on around us. Neither of us picked up a phone while we were there, with the exception of checking the time towards the end of the night.
I was facing the wife of the unhappy couple. She kept shooting me hard, dirty stares across the restaurant. Her attitude was angry, resentful almost. I commented on it to the Libertine more than once, because it seemed so unprovoked. Then I realized that I was on the date she was hoping she would get out of her husband. I was enjoying the romantic, relaxing evening out, and she was sitting at a dead table and hoping her husband would pull his head out of his ass long enough to notice her.
Here's the thing: I wouldn't notice her if I was a man. Where I was wearing a cute, cleavage baring dress and heels, she was wearing a Mom Sweater and sensible shoes. Where I had carefully done my hair and makeup, she was sporting a quick ponytail and might have been wearing mascara. I looked sexy and approachable. She looked tired and angry. If I was her husband, I wouldn't be very interested in her, either.
As relationships progress, a certain amount of routine and getting comfortable always happens. We let the people we love the most see us in our worst light. We feel safe around them, so we let down our guard. However, we have a duty to our partners to maintain at least some semblance of the image they fell in love with in the first place. If you get too comfortable, it's easy to lose interest. I'm not perfect. The Libertine and the Mister see me in my pajamas, or just after a workout, or when I decide not to get dressed on my day off. The Prime sees me most often right after work, and my job is pretty physical in nature. But I make an effort to consistently look good - looking my best isn't an every day thing, but I try to do it often enough that it's not a "special occasion." I know this sounds old-fashioned, but it works for men, too.
I also treat most dates as though they are first dates (with the exception of my "no fucking" rule). I try not to vent my frustrations with outside stuff unless invited to do so. I try to keep my conversation entertaining, funny, and flirtatious. Just because you've been dating someone a long time doesn't mean that you don't have to make an effort anymore. In fact, making an effort is even more important!
We all want to be reminded of the person we fell in love with. This is both a physical and an emotional need. You don't need to stay a size 2 the entire time you're dating someone, but you do need to try to maintain the feeling of mutual sexual attraction between you. I'm a plus size woman, but I feel sexy, and I project sexy. That is the feeling you need to maintain. My partners may not open doors for me everywhere we go, but the fact that they still do so reminds me of the early days of dating.
Start with little things. Hold an embrace a little longer. Say "I love you" a little more. Wear a dress for no reason. Do something that you know will make them smile, because at the end of the day you're gonna get out what you put in.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
Thursday, September 6, 2012
Over the summer the Mister and I struggled with our relationship quite a lot. My Mom is my go-to sounding board, and she was the one who listened to me cry, and let me complain, and then told me to suck it up and work to save my marriage because marriage is hard work and not something you throw away. After a while it became hard to confide in her because I couldn't really mention the Libertine, so I started to draw back a bit.
Fast forward to a few weekends ago. My parents took the kids camping, and it was my Dad's 50th birthday. We were supposed to head up there and have dinner and cake to celebrate. I was not feeling well that day, and the Mister told her that I might not come but he definitely would. This set off all kinds of warning bells in my Mom's head, she seemed to think things were still really bad and that we didn't want to be in the same place if we didn't have to.
I ended up texting her that things were okay, that her fears were unfounded, and that while there was something big going on, it was NOT divorce. She poked and prodded me for a bit before I finally sent her a novel's worth of a text message explaining who the Libertine is, how important to me he is, and how the Mister and I have been non-monogamous for quite a while now.
She didn't say anything for 35 minutes. Total radio silence. Finally, I asked her to at least acknowledge that she heard me, and she responded with:
"You and the Mister have to live your life in the way that makes you happy. I am worried about the kids and don't want them to get hurt if something happens and the Libertine goes away. But mostly, we just want you to be happy."
Since that afternoon my Mom hasn't brought it up again. She has not asked to meet the Libertine, nor has she asked about him. I'm not sure if she is simply pretending he doesn't exist, or if she is just adjusting to the idea of her daugter being in love with more than one person. She has not asked about any other relationships.
I understand that this is hard for her. She is very politically in the center, so I'm sure that she'll be okay. But in the meantime, I have to worry that things I say are hurting her. I have to worry that she is going to be upset when she asks us what we're doing on a weekend and I say that we're celebrating the Princess's birthday with the Libertine (awesome weekend, I'll recap another time). But mostly, I think she is upset that she has lost some of her daughter time.
And that's really what every relationship boils down to, isn't it? How much time we make for each other.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
Thursday, August 23, 2012
Tuesday, August 14, 2012
Wednesday, August 8, 2012
Some things are universal, whether you're poly or not. The connections we make with people imprint on us for years after those connections are gone. Relationships have the power to lift us up, throw us down, and fuck us up.
Last night I came within 50 feet of an ex-boyfriend, and the panic that rose in my throat shocked me. I was overwhelmed by fear, anxiety, and the impulse to run. The loop in my head was "don't see me, don't see me, don't see me."
This person is at the core of so much of my baggage. We lived together for several years, none of them great, and when I finally asked him to leave it was messy, awful, scary, and life changing. I'm still unable to tell the story, even to the Mister.
Even this morning, thinking of that brief glimpse of him, I'm stuck in a headspace that reminds me of rock bottom, moving home at 25, broke and with nothing but the clothes on my back. Depression, shame, and guilt are creeping up on me uncontrollably. Rationally I know that it wasn't really my fault, that I needed to go through that experience to get where I am now, but it broke me so completely that 7 years later I can't talk about it.
I love my life right now. I love my partners and my job and myself. I just don't love what it took to get here.
Monday, August 6, 2012
The Libertine and I have a very active sex life. In the just over 5 months we have been dating, if you did some math, you would come up with, very conservatively, roughly 450 instances of us fucking. Which, we admit, is a bit excessive. The point is, we fuck a lot.
In early June the Libertine moved into a new apartment, and bought a new bed. We haven't spent much more than a handful of nights at his apartment for logistical reasons, but it would be safe to say we've had sex in his bed somewhere between 20 and 40 times in the roughly 60 days he's owned it. One afternoon recently we stopped at his apartment for some afternoon delight, and things got even more ... energetic than normal. Downright acrobatic, even. So, there we are, with our heads at the foot of the bed, having a great time, and suddenly this amazing metallic groaning began. It was the same sound of incredible stress and fatigue that the Titanic made when the aft half of the ship separated from the bow, right before it hit the water. Finally, there came the sound of welds popping and the resounding thud of the bed frame slamming into the floor.
After the initial shock and realization of what had just happened came the most ridiculous bout of laughter I've ever had. We were still mid-fuck, still entwined in each other, but now at the crazy 60 degree angle of a bed that has suddenly lost a corner support. Once the laughter died down, we did the only sensible thing - we kept fucking! For a brief moment I thought we were going to be okay and that we could ride out the crazy angle of the bed until we were finished. Not a second after I finished that thought, the mattress slid even further, depositing me on the floor on my shoulders and neck with my ankles by my ears. The Libertine barely managed to catch himself from going totally over with me by bracing his hands on the wall behind me, legs still trailing behind him on the bed.
For those of you that know us in real life, I apologize for that mental image.
Also, did you know that trying to have sex while your partner is laughing uncontrollably is extremely uncomfortable for men? Awkward position and physical and emotional discomfort aside, the Libertine still managed a grand finale. He performed with aplomb. So... that happened.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Tuesday, July 17, 2012
I was raised with feminist values. Women should make the same salary, have the same rights, share the housework, etc. A partner should be just that - a partner who shares your load. My parents split and remarried when I was 11, and I remember watching the different marriage dynamics with fascination. My mother and stepfather split things pretty evenly, he taking most of the outside tasks/home maintenance and she commanding the house like the captain of a ship. My father and stepmother had a much more 1950's vibe going; she was a stay at home mom, and took care of every single thing that needed doing, except mowing the lawn. In both cases the woman managed the money, although my mother and stepfather seemed to share and communicate about it much more.
In my marriage I'm the one who wears the pants. I have most of the power, and not by choice. The Mister is a very passive, free spirited personality; he is perfectly content to simply move through the day and see where it takes him, whereas I am extremely Type A - I plan, strategize, and execute. In my work life I am the boss. Everyone in my building follows my lead, and there is very little question as to who is in charge.
When I'm subbing, I feel this amazing sense of freedom and peace. I have no power. I have no say in what is about to happen. I can stop things with one word if I choose to, but the course of events are not up to me. The Libertine has taken an interest in this aspect of my sexuality, and perhaps because of the immense amount of time we spend together, it's no longer contained to the bedroom.
It's exhilarating. He will allow me to be in collar for hours at a time, just going through a normal day (typically a day we are off together). He will randomly issue a command, and my heart leaps as I rush to obey. I love this aspect of our life together. I love that he enjoys it as much as I do. I love that he expects me to serve him, and I am completely willing to do so.
I don't think that it's at odds with my personality to feel this way. Just because I enjoy subbing doesn't mean I can't be strong-willed, or competent, or have an opinion. It doesn't mean that I want to be subservient in every aspect of my life, either. At the end of the day I still want an equal partner. I still want him to respect me, and admire me. I want him to value my opinions and ask for my input.
But I also want him to fuck me like the whore that I am.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
All the things we love, all the little addictions we carry around - they make us who we are. And I am unapologetic about loving who I am, addictions and all.
Tuesday, July 10, 2012
This Sunday, my father-in-law happened to be coming for a visit. This happened over breakfast:
Me: "Monkey, Grandpa is coming to see you today! Do you remember him?"
Monkey: "Yay! Mommy?"
Monkey: "I think Mr. Libertine needs to hide."
Four and a half years old, and already knows that Mommy doesn't share her special friends with Grandma and Grandpa yet. By this time next year, I hope to change that.
Friday, July 6, 2012
Thursday, July 5, 2012
Monday, July 2, 2012
Friday, June 29, 2012
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
A few months back I had a fantastic first date with someone, but the relationship died during the second date due to something unfortunate. Looking back on the incident, we both know exactly where we went wrong, but we have remained friendly, chatting here and there, ever since.
This is someone I genuinely like, someone I find funny and charming and worth spending time with. We have a lot of natural chemistry. Normally I don't continue to pursue friendships with people if dating them didn't work out, because I find it awkward. With this boy, it feels natural to allow a friendship to grow.
Last night we met up for drinks and a light dinner. We talked about his recent experience at the OpenSF conference and all the amazing people he met while there. We talked about the need for a more diverse and activist poly community here in Chicagoland. We walked around the shopping center aimlessly, chatting and doing that thing where you keep bumping into each other as you walk. It felt great. There was plenty of positive energy, but absolutely no pressure for anything more than chatting, flirting, and enjoying each other's company.
Perhaps the funniest thing about the evening was the expectations of our friends and lovers - they knew we were going out, and most of them assumed that things would get sexy. Live tweeting during the evening made things even more hilarious - when we decided to go hot tubbing, I got a lot of "nudge nudge, wink wink" type responses. But even in the water, we just chatted. There was some incidental touching, and playful banter, but nothing ever felt like it was going to lead to a place we didn't want it to go.
At least not yet. Who can say what will happen?
Sunday, June 24, 2012
- I cannot go back to being monogamous. I will not sacrifice any of the relationships I have to keep only one of them.
- I want to come out to my family within the next year.
- The Libertine and I need to negotiate the future. There has been talk of Big Things.
- I want to be able to write from my heart and publish what I say. I do not want the "What Ifs" to rule my writing.
- I want to advocate polyamory and nonmonogamy without having to become an active member of the Chicago poly community (because of incidents of exclusion/cold shouldering).