my turtle ring

When I was in Hawaii I bought a little golden ring with a turtle on it. I wanted to have a symbol to carry with me and remember how magical that place is.

I’ve been back in the city for about 3 weeks, and I’ve been wearing my ring on dates – not really thinking anything of it until I find myself in… a compromising position.

Even though it spends most of its time in a box, let’s just say that turtle has witnessed some stuff.

“Oh my, never seen this person before. He looks… angry?”

“Why do they look like they want to eat you?”

“You’re squishing me.”

“Is he… is that… well and now we are tied to a bed.”

“Oh he seems like a nice boy. Aw you’re having some ramen and laughing, that’s nice too. Wow what a nice apartment. Oh that’s…. Oh. Oh my.”

“There’s a mirror by his bed! I can see myself! I can also see……. Oh my!”

My gut reaction is to apologize to this turtle. But that feels like I am slut shaming myself. Also this turtle is an inanimate object.

And also, maybe this turtle is having fun! Maybe it’s like being on a rollercoaster! People scream in a fun way on those too.

spectacular

Got exceptionally high last night.

Wasn’t even expecting to. Didn’t think it was possible to go to a store and buy gummies that could do that. But a beautiful loophole has been discovered and now it is.

I ate one and cooked dinner and everything was fine, and then one hour later, BAM. I was grinning into space, making up little songs to make myself laugh. Dizzy like my body was tripping over itself.

I laid down and listened to a livestream about the new moon in Libra, all while my body felt like it was losing its edges and dissolving into energy. It felt wonderful and intense and like something I couldn’t stop.

Everything seemed to come up in this state. At one point I woke up in the darkness with loneliness and anxiety screaming at me. I’ve never known a lonelier city than the one I live in right now. It’s hard to remember that the lonelies I feel are not necessarily my own. That doesn’t make them feel any less heavy. I guess they are looking for someone to feel them.

When they pair up with anxiety, they make a dynamic duo. Anxiety over age and not being conventional, the classic “what the hell are you doing with your life” that only seems to be backed up by the lonely feelings.

Dissolve into energy and giggles and then wake up to the cold stare of your shadow. The new moon is activating my shadow side so I guess this makes sense. Shadow, meet softness.

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.

denying myself

The past several days have seen a lot of denial. Of certain types of food. Of touch. Of…. the weather.

Trying to feel good through eating better. Denying myself touch because I have a date tonight who told me to abstain until I saw him next. But I’m the only one doing all this to myself.

Denial does not mean starving. I don’t really know what it means. An astrology app told me I have a tendency to try and soothe myself by depriving myself. That’s something that makes zero sense to me and yet here I am doing it.

No wonder I woke up feeling off. Sad about the slow denial of warmth in this time of year. It can’t always be paradise.

Or maybe paradise just takes different shapes at different times. I’m not sure how to find it in this particular autumnal moment. Maybe all my problems would be fixed if I gave in and had something with pumpkin spice in it. Or maybe I need to admit to myself that it’s fall and bring out the big cozy sweaters. The tea. The spooky movies.

People love this time of year and so do I, but I also get anxious. Anxiety leads to more denial. Begging the sun not to leave me while I walk around in flip flops when it’s 55 degrees.

But there are worse things than curling up with tea and watching Beetlejuice. Will report back.

lucky and lonely

Didn’t think he was going to catch me being sad but he did.

He said he had been sad too.

We hugged and I knew it wasn’t right but I was lonely and his touch was nice.

I thought about being alone in my apartment and it made me cry.

A lot of things did that today.

Surprising things.

Watching Edward Scissorhands and realizing he reminded me so much of you.

The silliness and the sad eyes and the quiet.

Realizing as the music swelled that I really miss you. So much. And crying some more because of that.

What would I even do if I saw you,

Cry?

It had made you so uncomfortable whenever I did that

But I probably would anyway.

And hug you tightly and thank you for everything.

Thank you for being an incredible loving person

Even if it all freaked you out.

You said the city broke you and I understand why. It’s hard and lonely and constant. But it didn’t break you. Not really.

We just need to superglue ourselves back together somehow.

do you crave light like I do

The stars said I need to write. I know they see me. The world is coming back to life and the draft is still unfinished. Do I start it all over or try to land the plane in a random field somewhere, just to say it’s done?

The shitty first draft. A play that can be worked and reworked and cast and rehearsed and turned into a story playing to a room of people who might or might not care.

When I started writing it, quarantine had just started and I was lonely. Am still lonely. Writing a play about a three-way in quarantine seemed fun. Create characters when there aren’t any around you. At first it was fun. The words came easily. Scenes and ideas and dialogue, funny and dark and sexy.

Things eventually started getting murky. Nothing felt like it had a point. Theater didn’t exist. Anger and fire were everywhere. The story felt frivolous and privileged. The words stopped coming.

Beat.

But we aren’t there anymore. Not in that exact moment anyway. Even if that moment is still felt. The sun is out and people have emerged. Theaters are opening and their stories are full of timely heaviness that we are all too accustomed to anyway. I crave light, maybe other people do too.

So there you have it.

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.

standing by some water

I bristle at the phrase “never forget.” As if it’s possible to forget. As if it didn’t utterly transform the world and the ways we behave and history as we know it.

I feel annoyed when I see movie ads about it. They feel exploitative to me, and like a sharp trigger for anyone who lived through it and is now just trying to be a person.

It bothers me to see that day being capitalized on and profited off of. But maybe those movies are also a way someone somewhere can feel like they’re paying respects to the whole awful thing by watching. I don’t know.

I’m standing by some water right now and it’s beautiful and so is life. We have such an incredible ability to endure so much. That’s all I can say. Big hugs to you wherever you are and however you’re processing today.

Hawaii has pigeons too

I just landed in paradise and I feel like an idiot.

20 minutes after a 10 hour flight, I am talking to an incredibly confused customer service person and then buying another plane ticket. And I don’t even care. I just want the interaction to end and I feel so stupid I could die.

This is how I felt the last time I left Hawaii too. That time, I hadn’t brought the right credit card and I was not used to staying in fancy hotels. So I didn’t know that I couldn’t just “find a way to make it work.” Cut to me telling a concierge that I don’t have enough money to pay for my stay at the nicest hotel I’ve ever set foot in. That was fun.

Cut to 5 minutes later, me crying in a lovely courtyard garden and trying to figure out how to get into a lyft without anyone seeing me. I can safely say that this was one of the worst moments of my life up until that point. It was 2019 after all.

And here I am sitting at the airport in paradise, telling you about a horribly embarrassing thing that happened to me 2 years ago.

Well you know what I’m back now. And a fucking pigeon just flew in front of me. Hawaii has pigeons. Because New Yorkers probably brought them with us because we are gross.

I’m back. I made it back here after a freaking pandemic. I’m going to stare that horrible embarrassment and feel it and deal with it. And then I’m going to move on with my life.

Maybe after all that I can sit in the sun on a beach and not feel bad. Maybe I can even (gasp) relax.