Archive for July, 2013

21
Jul
13

The man that helps me believe in polyamory makes me think about monogamy

I woke up an hour and a half before my alarm today with the intention of blogging. I had coffee. I had some food. I decided that I couldn’t type while eating so I went to Facebook. I played some games. I commented, liked, lurked…played more games. I finally opened this blog window as my alarm was going off. Oh, I know avoidance when I see it. Yes, yes I do. I have been avoiding you.

I find this self-awareness to be interesting despite any real effort on my part to actually change the behavior. I know what I’m avoiding and yet I’m fairly content to allow myself to do so. It’s like leaving dishes in the sink. I know they’re there but I’m a grown-ass adult and I can leave my dishes in the sink if I so choose. Right?! Adult!

Okay, fine, fine! I was on vacation in the boondocks for a week and then came home sick too – so let me add a legitimate excuse to the pile of rationalizations.

I have observed that if I really like a man that I am seeing that it is difficult to blog about him. I find that I am all about bravado, humor and being bawdy and not so great at being soft, squishy & vulnerable. It doesn’t really take a therapist to figure out my defense mechanisms for self-protection. Oh sure, when you start seeing someone that you really like you get swamped with new relationship energy – you start seeing each other a lot and let everything fall to the wayside. Friends, dishes, blogs…  But as that eases a bit, I find myself having even more of a struggle starting to tell the tale. It becomes like catching up on overdue homework – a seemingly insurmountable obstacle! Jeez, I’m still talking about why I haven’t written. Start writing already!!

He’s E38 and I decided to call him Working-class Whimsy because he’s an artist, smart, well-spoken, well-read and has interesting perspective, but he also comes from a very blue-collar background and works a project management job in the construction industry. He could also be “chameleon” because he manages to sort of fit into lots of settings and also pull off several different looks – something that I mentioned to him in my first response on OKCupid. He messaged me saying that he was attracted and that we seemed to have shared interests and that I should respond if I felt the same. I looked at this goofy, funky, artistic, sexy man who described himself as a poly starving artist with a twisted sense of humor and thought “oh yes…”

I think our first phone call was seven hours. I loved his honesty, openness and matter-of-fact frankness. No bullshit. Direct. I even broke one of my cardinal rules and engaged in a bit of phone sex at the end of our marathon chat session. The conversation had turned to sex in an offhand “what do you like” sort of way and it was clear that both of us were going to hang up and go rub one out. I sent a text after our call ended and asked if he wanted me to “talk him off” and called him back. As it turned out, he did most of the talking. Man, he talks very, very well. I told him that I knew we were going to have a lot of fun. And so far we have.

Our schedules didn’t match up until Memorial Day largely because I was seeing the “Teddy Bear Pirate” that weekend and engaging in lots and lots of sex with him. By the the time Whimsy and I got together on Monday I was sore and raw from being worked over all weekend. We were planning to have lunch somewhere near a shopping area a few miles away from my place where he was looking at electronics. I had to use the bathroom so I went into the mega electronics store and texted him that I was there. He found me. (Not in the bathroom! After!) Now, you hear about sparks flying and chemistry and love at first sight, right? Well, I’m too old and jaded for that bullshit, but there was something instantly…comfortable from the start. As we fell into step in the store it felt like we should have already been holding hands. Natural. Relaxed. There was a feeling of “oh, hey – there you are. I know you.” We just sort of clicked.

Being ever the romantic, our next stop was the hardware store next door for wasp spray. Sexy, huh? As I said, there was a general degree of casual comfort from the get-go. When we discussed lunch, we opted for a place in town and I drove us both there in my car. We ate and fell into easy conversation. As the meal neared the end he started asking what I wanted to do next. He noted that the weather was too poor to take a walk and said that we could see a movie – though he acknowledged that wasn’t very social. I thanked him for the movie invitation but declined, saying that I would much rather talk with him more.

We opted to leave the restaurant and figure out what to do next. While crossing the parking lot, he asked me what I wanted to do and I said “what do you want to do?” He then stopped, put his hand on my hip, pulled me to him and planted a very serious kiss on me. Stroking my face, he said “that is what I wanted to do.” A minute later, while getting in the car, he chuckled and said “I wanted to make sure that you knew I was interested.” I laughed and said that since he didn’t check the time and say he needed to get going and kept asking what I wanted to do next that I figured he was interested. I said that I was too and indicated that I would really like to hang out and talk some more. We discussed where to go and I finally said “look, we could go to my place, but if we do we’ll probably wind up in bed – not that that’s a bad thing, but I had company all weekend and am actually really fucked out, so…”

Yeah, classy, right? Or just refreshingly honest? I had had sex something like eleven times and was absolutely aching. I didn’t want our first time to be “oooh, ah…ow” you know? So he said he would be fine with just talking or maybe even watching a movie. We came to my place and talked for about an hour…before we wound up in bed.

Okay, look…the sex? It was nothing short of spectacular. Goddamn! I feel like I’m constantly saying that I’m having the best sex of my life but that’s only because it’s true! I mean, there have certainly been some duds during the past few months but mostly it’s been GREAT! Well, here I go – once again crowing a new “best ever” man. Oh, I can’t base it solely on our first several times (that all happened that first day/night/next morning – yow!) because we’ve probably had sex fifty more times since then and it continues to be exceptional.

I’m simply enjoying someone who is a very excellent match for me, sexually. He’s great at sensing and responding – sometimes being achingly slow and sensual, sometimes being rough & commanding, sometimes letting me take charge, sometimes overwhelming my senses with an orgasmic onslaught. He loves to eat ass and pussy and is truly gifted in the art forms. He goes crazy when his ass is rimmed – something I’d never done before but find to be unobjectionable and very rewarding when he goes completely wild in response. Also, he has an absolutely perfect cock. Just right. Bonus!

E38/Whimsy is poly and has two other girlfriends. Our attitude & philosophy in this area is very similar and we’ve talked openly about it quite a bit. He’s great at communicating and scheduling and I’ve felt absolutely cherished, satisfied and appreciated these past couple of months. He helps me believe that polyamory can work between smart, caring, honest, mature, responsible adults. Right now it’s really, really working for us. And yet, all this ooey, gooey squishy, lovey new relationship energy has me occasionally thinking “hmmm…what would it be like if we were exclusive?” That’s a lifetime of monogamy training talking combined with a man that I am incredibly compatible with and very smitten by. It’s also a whole other topic worth exploring…maybe next time!

xo

RD

Advertisements
01
Jul
13

the risky prospect of offering your love…

Okay. I’m a lover. No, really. I’m not just talking about sex, dating & intimacy. I’m extremely demonstrative with my friends and…well…everyone. I’m the kind of person that says “thanks, hun, you have a great afternoon” to the cashier at the grocery store. I’m gregarious. I’m outgoing. I say “I love you” to lots of people.

It’s something that is frequently said & texted among my girlfriends & I. It’s how we end a phone call. Most of my friends hug & kiss me hello/goodbye. Both of the men that I’ve lived with in romantic relationships (including my ex-husband,) still exchange “I love yous” with me. The bartender at my regular watering hole/karaoke joint greets me coming & going with a hug. Recently, he’s started saying “love you, gal” when I leave and I naturally respond “love you too, baby.” It just feels right to share my love with these people. Even my curmudgeonly uncle says it to me & ends emails with “love” from him.

Yes, I like to share my love & affection with people that I care about. It’s just how I am and most of my friends seem to be equally expressive & demonstrative.

And yet…you can be sexually involved with someone in the most intimate way possible, have the most fantastic, intense, emotional, physical connection. Exchange fluids, conversation, trust…rim-jobs…and somehow the romantic aspect of that relationship makes those three words dangerous, weighted, terrifying & forbidden.

Oh, you can say “I love fucking you!” “I love your cock!” “I love it when you do that!” and the like, but Lord knows, saying “I love you” to someone who is actually a lover is risky business. Especially if you like how things are going & don’t want them to freak out, get all weird & run away – or to start picking out china patterns. You never know how it’s going to be taken! Or worse, if you will be offered the “I love you return” (as Seinfeld called it.)

Certainly, “I love you” means different things to different people. I think my writing so far gives you a sense of what it means to me. It’s something to be shared. Being someone who identifies as polyamorous may lend to my comfort at dispensing my love among many. To me, it lets them know that I value them as a person and a friend/family member, that I care about them – their health, well-being, activities – and that they are part of my chosen tribe of people.

In the movies & on TV there’s often a big, dramatic, climax when Harry & Sally finally figure out that they LOVE each other and that means lots of kissing followed by MARRIAGE and HAPPILY EVER AFTER. There’s a “love binary” that happens in fiction that often transfers to real-life – particularly with the typical monogamous construct. You “fall in love” and then are expected to be with that one person forevermore – loving them exclusively with a passion so bright & fresh that you would never consider being involved with another person ever again.

It’s not that way for me. If we are romantic partners and I say that I love you – it means that the words have probably been teasing my lips for weeks. It means that you are more than just a fuck. You are likely someone that I have felt an intense connection with. We’ve probably had some intense and insightful conversions. You are probably sensitive, thoughtful, kind, funny, weird, focused, goofy. You’ve made me laugh. You’ve probably made me cum. It doesn’t mean I want to marry you or be exclusive, but it means that I want us to have a relationship. One that lasts awhile. One that we enjoy. It means that even if we breakup sometime when it’s no longer good for us, that I will probably have a degree of love and affection for you. I care about you and I want you to stick around.

Is that really so scary?

(Yes.)

(But I did it anyway.)

Post Script…I came to a realization that I don’t really blog about men that I have feelings for. I blog about the ones that spurn me, hurt me, make me laugh, send me stupid messages that we can mock…the ones that I like a lot? They barely get a mention. I’m going to work on that.

Meanwhile, there’s this new guy. Poly. Two other girlfriends. Really great. Been seeing him steadily for about five weeks now. Emboldened by a fantastic day celebrating equality & gay pride yesterday and during a time that we were neither under the influence or having sex, I told him that I love him. I said “don’t freak out – it’s just a day for sharing it.” He said “oh, I’m not. I know. I love you too.”

The I love you return!

Yay! (<—-my actual response to him saying it to me.)

It’s not so scary, right?




Categories

Quickies with the Risqué Divorcée!

  • Facebook "It looks like you're at Burger King. Check in to share with your friends." Me: shut the fuck up, Facebook! 9 months ago
  • RT @amyisprettycool: Ok, who wrote the Melissa McCarthy as Sean Spicer #SNL sketch because they just made America great again 10 months ago
  • RT @LuvPug: My husband thinks it's so cute when I speak to him with terms of endearment like 'honey' or 'cockblocker' 10 months ago
  • RT @SondraDeeMe: I've always had a soft spot in my heart for female T-Rex because the tampon insertion must've been really difficult. 10 months ago
  • RT @joss: To everyone who keeps saying "Go back to making jokes/films/etc", WHAT DO YOU THINK WE WANT MORE THAN ANYTHING 10 months ago