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.