crunchy

I wrote a very horned-up post last night. But underneath that energy was a wild undercurrent of anxiety.

Last night was so weird. I don’t even have appropriate astrology to pin it on.

K was on a date-type thing with someone she hadn’t seen in a long time. In my gut I knew it was going to be weird, that she was going to feel weird (spoiler: she did). She’s super intense with her attention so I also knew she probably wasn’t going to text like she usually does.

Logically, I knew all that. But then it was midnight and I hadn’t heard anything from her. So all my insides lit up like they were on fire. Sleep kind of became impossible.

I read some erotica because I thought it would distract me. All it did was make me feel even more on-fire. Of course.

So I texted a sometimes-lover to tell him about it. He responded by insisting that he come over—NOW. Yes, I’d stoked his fire by talking about princesses turning into slave girls. But the sudden intensity of his blaze still startled me.

He did not come over. It was midnight and I needed sleep or else I’d be worthless.

But K never texted so I did not sleep well, which meant I was still worthless.

Eventually, of course, I did hear from her. She feels terrible and wants to come over, cuddle, care, all of those things she is so good at doing. But I am feeling a little crunchy. It will all be okay, but I need a minute to catch my breath, regain my footing.

Also I don’t really want her to see me cry and I will probably do that if I see her.

Good lord, humans are so complicated. But also extremely simple and primal and beautiful. Now off I go to wrap my big raw nerve of a body back up in a blanket.

warning: this gets kind of horny

I’m feeling stuff so I’m going to write about it.

First things first, I have a girlfriend: K. I don’t know why that word feels scary to write when it’s true. She is the coolest person ever. A sensitive and curious artist. Extremely hot. Fun. Communicative. Adjectives. I feel incredibly lucky, and that scares me, so I try not to think about it like that. More on that later, I’m sure.

We are kind of open. We’ve gone to queer sex parties; I watched her zap a line full of curious people one-by-one with an electric wand (it was awesome). I told her that sometimes I hook up with men and she was okay with it, “as long as you don’t feel used afterwards.”

I also told her that deep down I’m really submissive. She got me a little leather collar that is on its way soon (taking a while to be constructed). Huff. She is the best.

Relationships and commitment scare me but I’m also just feeling flooded with how much I like her.

She’s mentioned wanting to try out being a professional Domme. That it would be really fun and fulfilling to help people actualize their fantasies. People are beautiful and complicated.

One of her friends is a trans woman with a fantasy about being pregnant. She is currently having dinner at K’s house. It’s a friend hangout but also kind of a date. K has played along with this woman’s fantasies before, telling her things like how she wants to impregnate her and take care of her, that kind of thing. They are going to make soup tonight. K’s focus can be really intense and I know this is why she hasn’t texted me.

I feel okay about her doing this with this person, but I’m finding that the not-hearing-from-her thing is not fun. But I’m dancing around my apartment doing chores and trying to keep occupied in the meantime.

…this includes reading a super-horny book by Anne Rice and texting men. [covers face with hand]

There are three men that I talk to, and lately I’ve felt weird about seeing them so I’m basically acting like a cock-tease at this point. But then I had a breakthrough fantasy today: that when I’m with them and making them feel good, K is in the background whispering approvingly in my ear. Or she’s trained me so well that somehow pleasing men is still coming back around to pleasing her. Or… something. *fans self* Is it hot in here?!

I don’t really know anyone who won’t think I’m a complete slut weirdo if I tell them all this, so I’m writing it down here. Thank you for joining me while I make sense of my own brain.

write where it hurts

I read a playwright’s bio because I want a reference for my own. Hers is a page long, spectacular. Award winning. Artistic residency. Mine is a paragraph.

At my most masochistic, I scroll through a theater’s “Past Playwright Fellows” section to see if any of them have blonde hair. They don’t.

Obviously that doesn’t matter. Everything relies on the writing. Regardless of what’s happening or how you feel. Did you write it down? It is a muscle and a meditation practice. It is blissful catharsis and maddening frustration. And you show up for it, always. Look at whatever is felt and write it out.

After work, he comes over and reminds me of my masochism in other ways. It looks scary but is consensual. Pain on my terms.

Then he let me in on darkness from his past. Traumas that bubbled up when he saw a play. Memories that he can only start to process now. None of my words felt helpful so I just listened and wrapped myself tighter around him. Closeness.

Do I write a play about the healing power of getting my hair pulled? Do I want to turn a spotlight on something so raw?

He went home and I fell asleep at 9:30. Woke up feeling clear.

Then this morning my ex revealed that he is also polyamorous. This wasn’t a surprise but it did set off a lot of sparks in my brain. Questions. Curiosity. Anxiety (because of course).

When we were together, I was so scared and jealous at the end. I shoved all of it away because my heart was bruised. I was scared of that pain.

But why did I act like that? If we are the same, then why couldn’t I have let him do what I also wanted to do? Why did it take pandemic loneliness for me to lean into this?

He asked me if I was dating multiple people. I really did not want to know if he was. The old fear bubbles right back up. Dating people does not mean you are not available. But tell that to my primal abandonment terror.

And anyway this ex is now in a completely different state so what’s the point, what are you even feeling?

It’s mostly just the ego not wanting to be hurt again. Especially not by this person who has accidentally hurt it so many times already.

Oops sorry I didn’t know how to communicate and neither did you so we left marks and scars on each other’s hearts.

I grow and make choices. And I still get hurt and skitter off like a frightened animal at times. I guess none of this was meant to make those feelings go away. But at least we’re still in each other’s lives, even after all of that.

where my thoughts go

Spending time with you makes me want to dream and listen to sad music afterwards. Take long walks, stare out the window, burrow into the inner world, where everything feels sweeter and easier to sit with. In that inner world I can remember your hair falling into your eyes. How you look when you’re asleep. The tiny starburst that went off in my heart when you said you’d been thinking about me.

I was in a car, going to dinner. We drove by your neighborhood and I whispered your name.

Hours later, you were slipping a finger into my shirt and pulling me closer. You were standing over me and kissing me with your hands on my face. I was sitting, arching my back, my mouth reaching hungrily for yours. Mind just crying please, yes please, I can’t believe this fantasy is real.

Maybe if I lie still in that inner world, I could write something that would connect with and move you. You who are so public. You who the world is trying to move. You who have built such a shiny persona to mask the deeply quiet well in your heart. You who will not actually read this.

at the end of whatever I was doing with you

I am new to polyamory.

At first I liked the idea of having a boundless amount of love in your life. I liked the emphasis of communicating all your feelings, even the hard ones. To be honest I am really lonely and still recovering from months of extreme isolation in NYC. I want to have a big endless pile of love and connection.

A few months ago I began sleeping with a poly married man who was “very experienced.” We would have dinner every so often and then sex. The conversations were funny and fascinating. The sex was pretty good. Things progressed like this for months and felt fine.

Then he and his wife had a sex party. And at that party, I had a panic attack and had to leave. I didn’t have any sex and I couldn’t stop crying in the car, in my apartment, in my bed.

I have been trying to figure out what made me freak out at that party. But it is so obvious. I watched another woman touch the man I was dating.

Earlier she was bubbling over about how much she wanted to be friends with me. She told me she wasn’t really at this sex party to do anything. She also vented at length about another man she was dating. Then she touched my partner’s chest and I wanted to vomit.

Cut to an hour later, she and my partner are fucking and I am crying in that car.

What followed was a lot of talking. About me and my feelings. Not him, or what he was doing. Because at the time I thought I was having irrational emotions. He and I would talk through all my jealousy and I would feel better until we got off the phone. Minutes later, I would be sad again.

Then I had dinner with his wife. She blurted out that he was now regularly seeing the woman from the party (who at that point was following me on Instagram and looking at everything I posted).

He hadn’t told me that he’d started seeing her. He hadn’t mentioned that she’d come over, watch Sex and the City, and fuck him. He didn’t feel like he needed to.

I wanted to throw up again.

But I still thought that reaction was because I was crazy. I didn’t know that I don’t have to do things if they don’t feel good. Even if those things involve dating an “experienced” polyamorous person.

I’ve been out of the city now for weeks. He has called once or twice. I’ve never really felt great after either time.

And then, yesterday. I learned the uniquely foot-on-stomach horror of seeing that the two of them are now following each other on Instagram. I yelled “I can’t do this anymore” at my own phone and unfollowed both of them.

And then I went a step further and told him I’d done that. Like an insane high schooler.

“Freak outs happen. Sorry you’re having a tough time.”

Now I have the luxury of some hindsight. None of the other people I’m dating have ever made me feel like this. They don’t expect all their partners to be at a party together and hang out.

If I hadn’t gone to that party, I wouldn’t have cared about this woman’s existence. But I did, and now every time I learn about something she did with my (….I guess *our* at this point.. gross) partner, it makes me feel that much more rejected, invisible, insecure.

And it doesn’t have to feel like that. Even if it’s polyamory.

So have a great time, you two. I’m fucking done.

Anybody know a good therapist?

poly pocket gets her feelings hurt

Here’s how I spent my eclipse.

I went to dinner with the wife of a person I’m dating.

It started out just as weird as it might sound.

She was fascinating to talk to though. Things are just as messy for her, even while she’s been poly for 7 years. Told me all these stories of hurt and pain and rejection, on top of all the good stuff too.

She also told me about her husband’s other partners. He hadn’t really told me anything about them. Apparently he’s in love with one of them. The other one sparked my panic attack at a sex party.

I got tunnel vision. Here come all the old rejection feelings, try not to cry in front of his wife.

Then she said her husband was the dumbest smart person she’d ever met. That I’d need to sit him down and tell him exactly what I need.

Right now I feel so heavy and weird that I don’t even know what my needs are. I’m just crying and rejected and I don’t know what to do to make those feelings stop.

I don’t even know if I want to do this anymore. What even is this. What’s the point if this hurts so much. Personal growth. But why does that have to hurt so much.

Also I went to the gyno yesterday. Because I just wanted to make my eclipse as painful and weird as possible. Growth opportunities. What an absolute fucking delight, can I go cry in my bed now.

just me and my feelings over here

Had a date last night, with a person I’d freaked out over at a sex party. If I hadn’t had a panic attack and left, I would have stayed and (he said) he would have wanted to have sex with me. But when I saw another woman touching him, my mind + body just unexpectedly shut down.

My bodymind has a history of witnessing scenes like that and swallowing them as rejection. It feels like someone standing on your stomach while ice water rushes through it. The crush doesn’t like you, is going after somebody cute and petite. Someone who is not taller than he is. Someone who has x-y-z superlative over you.

That is not what was happening at that party. But the knee-jerk gut punch had been trained into me for years. Admittedly, it is difficult to watch people touch and kiss a person you are dating. Especially if it has taken a lot to get you out of the house and into this party, where you only know the host and have grown exhausted from making conversation with strangers for hours.

But watching them do that to him does not mean he does not want to do that to you.

This is something I’m working on believing. I probably need time to fully internalize it and that’s okay.

In the meantime, I’ll be leaving town for a few weeks and he’ll be traveling. It makes me sad to think about not seeing him. There’s worry that he’ll forget me. But I doubt that’s actually true because he was literally inside me last night and came really fast. Worry is not based on fact.

I’ll wake up in the night in a panic over being alone and my life not looking a certain way. Then other times, I’ll smile from the warm of liking my partners so much. It’s all an ongoing process.

not your best

Something happened last night that did not feel good.

I was on a date, at a man’s apartment. Things had heated up and I asked him if he had a condom. He said he did not like wearing them. That they made him go soft. I told him I was ovulating. This apparently meant we were at an impasse.

He tried to go down on me but soon stopped all activity and just wanted to cuddle. Then he said he wished I had told him sooner. He would not let me go down on him or try to do anything else. He wouldn’t even talk. So I just laid there with this guy’s arms clamped around me until I fell asleep.

Except then I had to wake up a couple hours later, because he doesn’t do sleepovers. Or condoms. Or god knows what else.

I got crushed by a wave of sadness that had been lingering with me for the last few days. He kept apologizing – he was sorry if he had upset me.

I left in a sad cloud. He texted in the morning and apologized again. Sorry if he’d upset me, not necessarily sorry that I was sad.

Now my sadness is starting to melt into anger.

adventures at the poly mixer

The other night I went to a poly party with a married guy I’m dating. It was extremely fun.

I paid for all his drinks because he asked and because I was his sugar momma. That was delicious. He knew several people at the party. I was nervous but still enjoyed meeting (and flirting with) everyone.

Then my date went to the bathroom. The second he left, another guy I’d been sleeping with appeared with his girlfriend. It was the first time I was meeting her. They were both shockingly awkward and introverted. She glommed onto me and said it was hard to talk to people. She was not wrong.

The last time I’d seen her boyfriend, I was sucking his cock in my apartment and feeling weird about it.

He had told me stories about her. That she would bring women over to their apartment for them both to sleep with. That she’d alert him about this with a text that said “yay daddy, sluts!” The first photo of her I saw was of her asshole. What can we say, her boyfriend is a charmer. No he isn’t.

Now I was meeting her, and she was wearing a long black turtleneck, talking about how terrible alpha men are, holding onto my arm.

We are multidimensional.

When my date re-emerged, E and his girlfriend disappeared. My date suddenly needed to leave because his wife had texting saying she was sick. He did not seem happy about this. I mean why would you. But apparently he had wanted to invite himself over to my place. Instead we snuck in some kisses at the subway.

When I got home, I felt like electricity was sparking out of me. Adventure and potential. Who knows.

full moon trance

I am back from paradise and last night I had sex.

It had been several months since we had seen each other. An entire summer. And yet his voice purring out “I missed you so much” was enough. Like velvet.

It took me 85 years to finish. Some moments felt like shooting out into space and leaving my body. Then I would slingshot back and worry that I had left that body too inert while skyrocketing through pleasure.

Every time he exhaled, his moan vibrated all over me.

The sweaty sheen that appears over you. Even if you don’t think you’re doing anything. But in reality my entire body was pulsing, thrashing with periodic electric shocks. Feeling everything so deeply for hours.

Toy after toy. He had one that vibrated and one that mimicked a sucking sensation. I think they made things a little too sensitive. Eventually my own hand was enough.

There’s a strange trance to sex. And he seemed intent on building it. With the music in his apartment, and the various rhythms of his mouth and fingers and body. I guess it was my role to melt into that trance and become the instrument he played and pulled pleasure out of. But sometimes I snapped back into the moment. Felt guilt. Selfishness. Anxiety. Until his mouth did something new and I melted back into the trance.

When it was over we stared into each other’s eyes and he ran a hand through my hair, softly, over and over.

“I want to pull out everything any shitty boyfriend ever did to you.” he made a motion like he was pulling it out of my hair. “Any moment that ever made you feel small. I want you to know that you are beautiful.”

His voice melted on the last word and I felt tears in my eyes. I just nodded and said thank you.

And then I learned he is monogamous. Who knows what will happen here. But the moment was beautiful.