My God that thing is freakishly HUGE!

January 12, 2011

All right, now that I have your attention, get your minds out of the gutter. I was talking about W’s new flat screen TV that got delivered a few days ago. And actually, it’s not as large as I thought it was (heh, that’s what she said…ok, ok, enough of that…), although for a non-TV watcher, anything over the 20-something inch screen we have seems gargantuan. Ad and I went over the other night to help him set it up, and afterward they went to Lowe’s to pick up some shelving, while I stayed behind at W’s, cooling my heels.

It’s kind of strange, being in this enforced-vanilla mode with W. Even when I was being naughty, there was the underlying knowledge that we were still, at heart, just being a regular ole couple…err, triple. (Odd that being with both my men has become so commonplace, so “normal” that I don’t even include that in my assessment of whether or not something is “vanilla.”) Anyway…no bondage, no slutwear, no high heels. W and I talk a lot about kink, because, let’s face it, that is a large part of our mutual interest, but not being able to be kinky is…wearing. I miss my Mean Guy.

At the same time, the five or six days we spent together, like, every minute while I was in the initial stage of recuperation, when I couldn’t use the restroom without assistance and was, literally, bedridden, was really, really enjoyable.  Even if he wasn’t beating me up. I’m amazed at how compatible we are in a vanilla sense, as well as in kink.

On the other hand, I realized how different his life is from mine in some ways. He really never has to stop living in his kinky world. Semi-retired and comfortable financially, living alone, with his family hundreds of miles away, he really has been able to craft his life exactly as he wants it, and his main interest/focus really is kink, his bondage website, tying me up and abusing me when he can, and creating & selling infernal devices to torture woman.  Of course he also works on renovating his house, but even that is done in such a way as to make it exactly the way he wants it so he can use the space and invite others to use it for kink.  He doesn’t have to step back and forth between the vanilla world and his world as I do, with my job and family and children and even my relationship with Ad. No wonder he doesn’t understand sometimes my need to be (forcefully if necessary, or by rituals or expressed dominance) reminded of our dynamic.

But sometimes I think he likes being dragged kicking and screaming invited into my vanilla world too.  I think he enjoyed being part of my family, cooking, playing board games, playing caretaker to me (ok maybe that part wasn’t so much fun), hanging out with my daughter and I and watching us interact, watching TV(!) with me on the internet, helping Ad with plans for the walk-in closet, joining in discussions with my kids about college and majors and what they want to do with their lives.

My daughter had told me several days before that she had decided that maybe she would “just get a teaching certificate and teach high school English.”  The way she said it I knew it was a statement of…defeat.  Or resignation.  She has been fairly undecided about what she wants to do, and I have encouraged her to take her time in making a decision, to simply take her undergraduate classes and to give herself time to think about what she wants to major in, etc. She has said, and I have known, all along, that one of her great loves is writing, and I would never discourage her from pursuing that as vocation or avocation, but I have also seen her passion and interest in biology, anatomy and physiology, and so I was surprised at this sudden decision.

“Well, that’s fine,” I said cautiously, “if that’s what you really want to do. But…why? What is it about teaching that attracts you?”  I wanted to know what was at the root of her “decision,” because I didn’t feel that it was one she was making out of joy or passion. Instead she seemed dispirited by it.

What followed was a really good discussion by all of us–Ad, me, W, the Missy and even her boyfriend, as we discussed the merits and drawbacks in choosing teaching–and teaching English–as a career, and as we finally got to the root of the matter. “I hate chemistry!” she wailed. “Do you know how many chem classes I have to take to get a degree in biology??”

I let that ride for a couple days while I mulled this over.  But then, a few days later, I called her into my bedroom, where I had been doing most of my recuperating.  W was there, computer on his lap, and she climbed up onto the bed next to me.

“Missy,” I said, “talk to me about this chemistry stuff.”  And we talked about her fear of failing, of her father’s wrath with her if she failed, of not being able to “cut it” in chemistry.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know how hard chemistry is. I have never been able to pass it, and don’t ever care to. But I have also not done so many things in my life out of fear.  Fear of failing, fear of rejection, fear of change.

“Look,” I finally said, “if what you really truly want to do, if it is your heart’s desire to teach English, then I want you to do that. I am behind you 100% of the way. But if you are only doing that to avoid trying to pass chemistry, because you are afraid of failing–that I can’t support.  Do not live your life refusing to try because you might fail. I’m not saying you won’t fail–but if you do, then we’ll figure out what you need to learn, we’ll get you help, and you’ll try again until you succeed. That’s all there is to it. You are smart enough to learn it. I know that for a fact. And I have seen the way you light up when you talk about science stuff, I have seen the way it moves you.  To turn your back on that without even trying would be wrong. If, after you have tried it, you decide it’s not for you, then fine, we’ll look at other options. But don’t give up before you’ve even had a chance to try.”

And then W chimed in about success and failure and college and degrees and life and careers and chemistry and following your passion. And it was just such a perfect poly moment, sitting there with him and her, listening to them, talking with her, discussing the course of her life and all those wonderful, exciting, terrifying decisions that one has to make as a young adult, and sharing all that–all that parenting–with him.  I could see that she respected what he had to say, just as she respects what Ad says, and it warmed my heart.

Occasionally I think, “give me back the kink!” especially when I have been so bereft of it as I have been lately.  But when I am able to sit back and really appreciate the fullness of what we have now, even if it’s not all-kink, all the time, I do not for one minute wish it back to the beginning, when we both thought he’d just tie me up, beat me and fuck me and push me out the door.

It helps though when, as he did tonight before I left his house to come home, he pushes me to my knees and does nasty things to me, banging my head against the radiator while he tells me more nasty things he’s going to do to me, or make me do.  A little reminder of our roots–and that we’ll soon be returning to that side of our life as well, is a good thing. :-)


On the Mend

January 4, 2011

Wow…so, started this post a few days ago. It’s been…a helluva week.  As some of you may know, I had a bit of surgery recently, and while it’s all good and I am well, it has been a bit harder to recuperate from than I had anticipated, and I have have really been wiped out. Today, one week to the day of the surgery, I am still exhausted & sore, and goddamned sick of being this way! But I guess I should have believed the doctor when he said that I might be, and that 10 days of recuperation before I even started to feel normal would not be unheard of.

Of course, I always think I’ll be back on my feet in 48 hours no matter WHAT’S going on. Or at least want to be. W says I am an impatient. I guess I have to agree with him.

Anyway, from that earlier post:

So this is my life the last–how many days has it been?–five or six I think. Since last Tuesday.

Pain. Drugs. Sleep.

And now, I’m awake, in less pain, and on a lot less drugs. W is home-actually ensconced at my home, where I, too, am ensconced, laid up in a special bed while I recuperate from surgery. Ad’s here, too, when he isn’t working, which hasn’t been a lot the last three days at least, so I have them both here playing nursemaid to me. It’s nice, sweet really, for W to have come over in spite of him not actually needing to be here (since Ad’s now available most of the day to help out and I am finally getting at least partially mobile.) I guess he came anyway because he knows how awful it was while he was stuck in NY and Ad and the Missy struggled to take care of me during the worst of it, while juggling work and other commitments.  Whatever his motivation, I am glad to have him here. He’s not only a help, but is darn good company.

(Edit: It’s now Tuesday, and he was here yesterday and will be here today and tomorrow, when, since Ad is working, I really do need him. So that’s been really super helpful.)

Enforced inactivity is hard, especially when I don’t feel well enough or able to focus enough to do any of the things I normally would while inactive physically, such as read, crochet, write, blog, read and comment in Fetlife discussions, chat or flirt in email or IM, post kinky pictures, read blogs, tweet or play board games. I’ve just been able to start reading in longer batches, and have been able to concentrate on an episode of Glee or two, managed to play a board game last night with the Guys and the kids and this evening with the Guys, and now here I am blogging, so I’m getting back to normalcy, but it’s been nice just to have W to talk with or listen to.  Ad and I have never had long, intellectual discussions, and while W’s and mine aren’t all that “intellectual,” we still have a wide range of topics that we are interested in that Ad has no opinion on or desire to learn about or discuss.  As a result, time with Ad tends to be quiet, with us each immersed in our own interests–which unfortunately means, when I am heavily sedated and unable to think clearly enough to focus on anything on my own, I get pretty bored. At least with W, even if I am not up to conversing, he’ll talk to me about what he’s reading or looking at or thinking about, so that’s something.

Also, I have missed the fuck out of him this past month and a half.

I am actually looking forward to Monday and Tuesday, when I am on enforced PTO from work, and Ad has to work all day, because that will be the first time W and I will have and extended period of time to ourselves. We have had surprisingly little time just with each other, even though he’s been here since Thursday night, since the kids have been home for Christmas vacation and Ad has been off more than he’s been at work. It’s actually been kind of fun, like we’re one big poly family, a dream I used to have a long time ago, when I was married before, but have of course let die.

So now here it is Tuesday.  I am in bed typing this, because, well, that’s pretty much where I’ve been stuck for the past week, barring trips to the bathroom, and a couple evenings in the front room, and two trips all the way upstairs (!) to a) test out the extent of my endurance and b) coach W in the preparation of food. Tomorrow I go to the doctor to get fluid drains removed (blech, that’s a little TMI, isn’t it?) but that is an important step to me, because until then I will not feel that my body is my own, and I am constantly aware of and having to be careful of the medical devices, so I am hindered not only by my physical capabilities but also mental hindrances (ie feeling like a medical object/body, not me.)

So, tomorrow, wouldja mind hurrying up and getting here already?

I don’t really have any other news than that to report, well, actually I have kink/sex stuff to talk about, but you’ll have to read about that over on PoJ.

What? Did you think I could go a whole week with W here, and both my guys in the same bed as me, and not have sex/kink to talk about, even if I am laid up from surgery??

Oh, and I should have a Truth post coming soon as well. Stay tuned!

A Happy Day

December 20, 2010

Ah the joys of popping awake at 4am. Not sure what this is about, but I’m ready to get over it. Now. Please?

My week is looking up. I hate to admit that just the thought of seeing W gives me a whole new outlook, but, okay, it does.  I was pretty crabby yesterday, after a week of enforced quarantine from him due to health issues.  His, not mine. He caught an awful cold last weekend-ish, and has literally been nearly bedridden the entire time, too sick to do much more than sleep, take meds, sip a little soup and send the occasional email that he’s still alive. Because I have some rather major surgery scheduled next week, he hasn’t allowed me anywhere near him, which has been driving me nuts.  Besides just being crabby about being separated and having so little contact, it’s also been hard because I am a nurturer and a caretaker at heart, and to know he’s been alone and sick all this time, without someone to care for him, about kills me.  He says he prefers to be alone when he’s ill, but I think he lies. No one likes to be sick and alone. Period.  So this past week has been rough.

This is one of the conundrums of living separately. I consider both he and Ad co-primaries, and yet, because W and I live apart, I can’t share in all the little parts of daily life with W that Ad and I do.  If he was just a sex/kink partner, that would probably be fine–keep the relationship at a shallow level–but he’s not, and it is very hard for me to deal with him as if he is, when he holds me at arm’s length like he did this past week. It makes me feel rejected, our relationship somehow minimized, to be told to stay away because he is ill. Sharing the good and the bad, caring for each other during the good times and bad, helping each other, are all hallmarks, to me, of a relationship that is about more than just getting fucked. And though I may write about that aspect of it in Pieces of Jade quite a bit, our relationship means quite a bit more to me than that.  Honestly, I know it does to him too, but it’s hard for me to see beyond the knee-jerk “he doesn’t want me around” feeling to know that in my heart as well as my head.

But then I read a line in an email, “Please call me, I miss the sound of your voice,” or I talk to him on the phone (finally, last night) and I hear him tell me he’s been protecting me, and it puts it–and my head–in proper perspective again. I am so needy at times it makes me sick. But that really is all it takes. To know, to hear, that he misses me, that he wants me there, and I feel okay again. Not happy about him not letting me be there to care for him, but on sure footing again in our relationship. I know, I know–he tells me all the time that I shouldn’t question that or feel these anxieties, but the fact is I do. I am learning not to react (overly much) about them though. “You can’t control how you feel, but you can control how you react.” That’s my mantra, that is the shining example of being a “better person” that I reach for and hope to achieve, and, slowly, I am.

Of course, it took me three days to call him after he emailed me, because I was still crabby at him for not letting me be there.  I didn’t say that I don’t react, just that I am learning. Baby steps.

I had really sweet moment when we talked.  I am sure I am projecting too much onto this one phrase (especially as I am the one that brought it up) but he was telling me why he hadn’t allowed me near him while he’s been sick. Personally, I think he was being excessive about it, and he admitted to it, echoing my own “You’re being over-protective.” But when he said it, it wasn’t an indictment, it was an admission of caring that completely disarmed me.  He is very protective of me, caring and concerned in a way that speaks volumes about him as a person, and about our relationship in general.  And made me realize that for all his protestations of wanting to be alone when he’s sick, if it hadn’t been for my surgery coming up, and him wanting to protect my health prior to that, he would have allowed me to come over, and probably appreciated having me there.  He was sacrificing for me, not being difficult or stubborn.

So yeah, as I said, my week’s looking up.

Got most of my shopping done. As odd as this may seem, although I hate to do the decorating stuff at Christmas, and have issues with the celebration of Christmas in general (for information on the real origins of Christmas, read here), I really, truly love the excuse to shop for presents for my loved ones. Not that I need an excuse to give presents, but having one gives me license to indulge myself (and them.) I get to hunt for just the right thing and I get to spend hours shopping, dealing with the hustle and bustle of the stores, which I love.  It’s the exact opposite of how I feel about shopping in general (unless I am on the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes.) And giving presents just makes me happy. To see someone’s face when I hit the gift-nail on the head gives me more satisfaction than getting a gift ever could. I am sure these feelings have narcissism at their roots, but you know what? I don’t care. I love it.

Anyway, got most of that done, as well as a handmade gift that I have been working on for weeks. I thought it would take a few days to complete, but it took far longer than that, and honestly, I’m not thrilled with the end result. (Sigh. I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to these projects, which means I need to start NOW for the upcoming year’s gifts.)  But Ad says it’s beautiful, and it will have to do–if for no other reason than that it is a testament to my new “follow-thru” philosophy. LOL  I need to complete two smaller projects this week, but those really should take just a couple hours each.

This morning I am going to hit the gym and run a bit. I am not sure if I should even be worrying about working out, as I will probably be unable to be back at it for 6-8 weeks after my surgery, but (as Ad notes) working out makes me feel good in my head–it has nothing to do with being in “shape.” So I need to do it.

I spend the next two nights at W’s. I could hardly stand it when he said I could come over last night.  I wanted to drive over there right then, but realized I had no work clothes, nor my laptop, etc., so had to postpone it until today.

Wednesday our office closes early, and then is shut until January 3rd. Wednesday afternoon the Missy and I are grocery shopping for a dessert and cookie making extravaganza that we are having on Thursday. So far on the list are sugar cookies, cinnamon-sugar pinwheels, white-chocolate peppermint bark, Kahlua-chocolate cheesecake and my infamous chocolate chunk brownies.  She is making a list of several other cookies to make, and we are going to spend all day Thursday baking.

Oh yeah, that reminds me, need to get a tin for the cookies, so that I can wrap them and keep them from the marauding hordes before we head out to my sister’s on Saturday.

And last but not least, quite by accident (because I haven’t been keeping up with my blog reading) I ran across a fellow blogger’s “Top Blogs 2010” list, and found APL on it! I was enormously flattered and pleased to be listed among that august company.  The list is a good one, with many great bloggers on it, and a few new ones that I hadn’t heard about.  Head on over there and check it out!

Truth: Day 9 – Butterfly

November 17, 2010

Your time is limited, so don’t waste it living someone else’s life. Don’t be trapped by dogma – which is living with the results of other people’s thinking. Don’t let the noise of other’s opinions drown out your own inner voice. And most important, have the courage to follow your heart and intuition. They somehow already know what you truly want to become. Everything else is secondary. ~Steve Jobs

My horoscope today, so very apropos:

Wednesday, Nov 17th, 2010 — The alluring quality of your feelings can be quite intoxicating now, whether or not you are in a new relationship. You could even fall in love anew with someone familiar, or discover an exciting attraction to a total stranger. Either way, your enthusiasm is contagious as long as you don’t allow fear to stand between you and love.

I think I fall in love with W a little more every day.


Today’s Truth: Someone you didn’t want to let go, but just drifted.

I guess that means “drifted away from.”

I have actually done this more times than I like to admit. I am…capricious at times; as a friend has called me, a “butterfly, flitting from thing to thing.”  I don’t think she meant it unkindly, and she didn’t add “and person to person,” but I have to be honest and admit that sometimes, the worst connotation of that could probably also be applied to me, as well as the kinder one.

Sometimes I let people…lovers…friends….drift away. It makes me sad, but then, I get busy again, my interest flits off somewhere else, and…I forget about it.  Until the next time.

It’s also a defense mechanism of sorts. True friendships, deep friendships, are work to maintain, and I don’t always have the time/energy to put out the effort to take them from acquaintances to true friendships.  But then I end up with a week like last week, when I had all kinds of free time–and had no one to spend it with. When the guys are here, it’s fine: I am so full of “deep” friendship, of deep relationship, I have no time and no need for any others; the other lighter relationships suit me. And I’ve never been one for many close friends.  I usually have one or two close friends and then a wide circle of people that know me, and I know, that I talk to and maybe even have brief flings with, but who I never really form the kind of friendship in which, say, I would call them up and ask them to go to the mall with me, or to a movie.

Sometimes, though, I regret letting those fledgling, half-formed relationships lie fallow and drift away.  And even more so I regret not nurturing relationships in which I felt a true connection, but couldn’t seem to make stick, for some reason.

There are actually three people I can think of that this has happened with (or is happening with now):

The first girl I ever fell in love with, my NatureGirl; my close friend & lover-once-upon-a-time, C; and my friend B in Chicago.  All of these people are within my reach to reconnect with, but…I just don’t know how to, not anymore at least. We’ve drifted too far apart and let the moment slip by.

(From the Truth Meme. I found it via The Blogging Slave, who got it from Rayne of Insatiable DesireRose Thorne has also joined in the truth-telling!  Let me know if you do, and I’ll put a link to your blog here as well.)

Busy Bee

November 1, 2010

“How was your day?” the pseudo-father-in-law asked.

I froze, one hand on the stair rail, my face turned away as I desperately tried to think of what to say.  I had been heading rapidly down the stairs, hoping to avoid small talk. I’m so bad at making things up to cover for my frequent absences.

“Oh, um,” I stammered, “it was great! I went to, um, to the park. It was such a lovely day.” What I didn’t mention was that I had been decked out in full ponygear doing a photo shoot in a public park right smack in the middle of downtown, with the Arch as a backdrop. Or that only an hour before that I had been handcuffed in a hogtie on W’s floor. Or that the evening before that, I had been sleeping in W’s bed…okay, well, sleeping and not sleeping, if you take my meaning.

I don’t know how much he knows about what I do or where I am on the frequent nights that I don’t come home. Of course I don’t want him to know about much that I do…but I get tired of not being able to just say, “I was at W’s.” He knows W, does he ever wonder who he is?  Probably not; most people take “He’s a friend,” at face value. But then I think about the coworker and her bf that rent our house, and the fact that I just found out that they have a female “roommate.”  My quotation marks, for all I know she is just a roommate. But the other night my coworker invited me out to a local alternative club where they were going to see Rocky Horror…soooo? Who knows.

Perhaps it is the fact that I am feeling tenuous connections being made between me and W’s family that is making me think about this.  He’s told his mom and daughter about me. This week I am sending a baby hat that I crocheted for his granddaughter to her. He invited me down to FL to visit him this month while he’s away–and stay at his mom’s if I did! He mentioned perhaps going to NYC with him sometime, where I would meet his daughter and son-in-law.  Of course they don’t know that I live with someone else. That is not part of the conversation, nor does it need to be. My own family, while aware I am poly, don’t actually know that the “W” I speak of on occasion is, in fact, my other partner. I did tell my mom that it was he that stayed with me the entire time I was in hospital, though.  I know eventually I will tell her, at least.  My sister I don’t talk to enough to make it matter, and my stepfather…well, we just don’t talk about some things. But my mom and I do, so I have been preparing the way a bit. After having been with W for two years, maybe it’s time, eh?  But I totally understand why that doesn’t have to be a part of W’s conversation with his family.  That I am in the conversation at all makes me feel…deliriously happy. Validated. Important to him. (I know, I know, all things I should feel anyway, but I feel what I feel…)


The past week or so was insane…crazy…wonderful. The aforementioned photo shoot was just the icing on a very tall, wonderfully yummy cake. The two days before KK, then KK, then Baltimore and then back home to hang with Ad and kids, and then unexpected time with W before he leaves for FL. I think I am better equipped to deal with his absence this time than last, but the proof will be in the pudding, eh?  Especially as at least two of those weeks will be sans Ad as well.  My daughter knows me so well sometimes…when I told her that W and Ad would be gone, she texted me, “OMG, do you have your Happy Light?!?”  (Yes, it does work for those of us who suffer SAD. I was able to kick the meds by using it.)  I thought it was so funny/cool that she recognizes that. Next she told me she’d be sure to hang out at home more, make sure I didn’t get lonely and depressed.  I assured her that although I would love her company, I am quite capable of being home alone (something that is surely true in the technical sense, but perhaps is more difficult to bear emotionally than I let on.)  With that reality in mind, I have started a list of things I want to get done/do while The Boys are gone:

  • I am deciding on a writing project for a short story submission.
  • I’ve (once again) joined the madness that is NaNoWriMo
  • Daily writing for PoJ/APL
  • Three crocheting projects to complete, AND
  • I want to start working on my new domains. (That’s right, folks, I’m taking this blog and PoJ to my own domain(s)!  Woohoo!  But I’ve got a lot of work to do before I do it.)

Aside from that stuff, I have many OK Cupids to comb thru (didn’t realize my message notifications were going into my Spam folder! (WTF? After a couple years??), a possible “Special Date” in the potential offing, I’m kinda putting feelers out to the local swinger community and starting to chat with them, a birthday date-surprise for a special Dom friend of mine (tho she hasn’t called me back, so…I don’t know if that’s a go or not), AND Spanksgiving to attend/vend and, if all works out (which it probably won’t, sigh) maybe play at.  Plus think of some new project to do for W, and work on the logistics for a new weekly feature on PoJ, plus, plus plus…! Oh and yeah, deal with my kids & dog & food all on my own.  Oh, and start the new classes at the gym with my workmates!

Whew, this may be an insane month.  Thank GOD the guys are leaving, else I wouldn’t have time for them, right? ;-)

Freedom of Speech

October 19, 2010

I wrote a post over on PoJ the other day in which I talked (obliquely) about a scene I had recently with someone W set me up with. I was a little hesitant to post it, because while it wasn’t meant to be criticism, but rather musings on a particular thing that came up during negotiations for the scene and afterward, I was worried that it might come across that way, and the person that instigated those musings–the Top with whom I played–reads that blog (and this one as well.)

You never know how people will take things they read in your blog. I used to be very careful about who I gave my blog address to, preferring to keep it from local, real-life friends & acquaintances, because some of the things we do, the way we play, etc., can be…a little on the “not-quite-acceptable” side.  A little edgy.  And, frankly, I wasn’t sure I wanted them to know all that about me.  Especially as many of my friends in the local BDSM scene knew me as my ex’s submissive and saw me a certain way.  To have them see me as W’s slut, to have them know what he does to me and makes me do, to allow them to see me degraded and degrading myself at times, well, I just didn’t know if I wanted that.

I also didn’t know if I was ready for them to know W like that.  I wanted them to know him and like him, and to understand what I saw in him, besides the fact that I love how he does hurt me, use me, degrade me when we play.  If they saw all that stuff first though, before they got to know him as a person, or saw how healthy our relationship is, they would have been likely to make judgments about him as a person (and question my judgment in being with him.)

After my break-up with the ex and my subsequent withdrawal from the lifestyle and from everyone I had known in it, some of them were understandably protective of me when I decided to come back into the scene.  And to come back with someone that is obviously a far more intense and edgy player than anyone I have been with before (and than many of the people in our local community in general), well, there was some generalized concern. “Does she know what the fuck she is doing?” I think is how a friend put it later to me.  This isn’t an unwarranted reaction, to be truthful; we see it all the time, naive, inexperienced submissives and bottoms that get in over their heads and don’t know how to get out of situations that are too much for them. Telling them that I knew perfectly well what I was doing, what I wanted, and where I was going wouldn’t have helped much–everyone says that. The fact that I did, and do, would have to be shown, and that would just take time to prove.

So, for awhile, my blogs were pretty anonymous.

I don’t know exactly when it was that I decided to open my blogs up to them.  I do know that I had many long conversations about it with both guys about the possible repercussions in being more public, and about possible reactions–not just to me, but to them. My relationship with A was still a fairly unknown element with them as well. Although I had been involved with him for a year before the ex and I split, and although they had met and gotten to know him before we split, due to his reserve, and my withdrawal from everyone when the split happened, I don’t think they had a good feel for the solidness of our relationship, nor for how well W fit into that picture.  Was I looking for a replacement for A? Was my relationship with A on shaky ground? And even, was I going to ruin another good relationship?  My ex had been well-liked and respected, and I know that there was some feeling that I had caused the break-up (I had, but not in the way that some people thought) and thought that perhaps I was just being selfish, or flighty, or careless with yet another good man’s heart.

All that is long past. I exposed and publicize my blogs and postings quite openly now, but I do think holding back on “revealing all” was a sensible approach: although sometimes I still get the occasional “are you really okay?” after I post something horrific over there or after they see us scene together, I think they know that this is, truly, what I want, heart and soul, and that while it may not be for them, it really is good for me.  And they all seem to like and respect W, can see the strength of our relationship in its entirety, and know that it is precisely because of Ad’s and my solidity and love for each other that it all works so well.  And yes, sometimes the exhibitionist that lurks inside gets a little thrill to know that something I do titillates or shocks those around me, those that run into me at events, parties, and gatherings. Blast my narcissistic heart, but (okay, I admit it, W) I do get off on a little notoriety.

There’s another reason I wasn’t totally open about my blogs right from the start though; a reason many of us out here in the blogosphere have encountered and wrestle with, and the one I began this post talking about: how to balance my need to be open here, not to censor myself, with my desire not to ruffle feathers, not to cause confrontations, and not to use this in a way that hurts others.

Because I have been/done that.

I lost a very good friend and destroyed a relationship between myself, my ex and a woman that we were both involved with by writing something both hurtful and indiscreet in my old blog.  At the time, I felt it was necessary, a “wake up call” to some self-destructive behaviors, but my blog was neither the place nor the way to communicate that.  I recognize now that I did it that way precisely because I couldn’t confront her face-to-face, but blogging was both cowardly and passive/aggressive, and I regret doing it because I embarrassed and hurt her, something I wasn’t intending and would never have wanted to do.  That I learned a valuable lesson from it doesn’t make it okay.

I was initially cautious to even start blogging again, after that fiasco. I love to write, I love to muse on the things we do, to share my thoughts on life, on love and sex and happiness and pain and relationships and BDSM and everything else, but I was pretty gun shy. I so wanted share these things with W, the things I experience inside when we do this stuff, and I thought that he, of everyone I had known, would truly appreciate it, but I couldn’t be sure. There is nothing more disheartening than to share this space with someone, wanting them to know my innermost heart, only to discover that they don’t even bother to read it. It’s hard not to feel…slighted…by that.  Not to feel like they don’t really care to know about me.  Rationally I know that isn’t true, many people just don’t get into blogging or reading blogs, but, on an emotional level it’s a hard feeling to shake.  What if I did write all this stuff, and he didn’t read it?  Didn’t care?  I really liked him by that point, already knew I wanted to continue to be with him to explore what we had started, and I didn’t want to jeopardize that by feeling resentful because he didn’t read it.  Or, conversely, if he did and something I wrote hurt or angered him.  What if he broke up with me because of something I wrote, as she had?  And even worse (to me, personally, as a writer, as a blogger): I need to be honest in my blog, that’s why I write.  What if I was unable to be honest because I worried about his reaction all the time?

I needn’t have worried about him not being interested in what I write. W reads, and often comments on, everything I write. It is just another part of “paying attention,” as he does in a scene, I guess.  He listens: to my voice when we talk, to my words when I write, to my body when we play. It’s probably how I learned to be so multi-orgasmic with him–he and my body have very intimate talks, even when my brain isn’t engaged. lol

He has also insisted that this is my space, and that I should write whatever I want or need to here, even if I think he won’t like it.  In fact he insists that I do write whatever I want to here.

Recently, that edict was tested a bit.  I wrote some things, he didn’t like them, we had a pretty intense talk about it.  It was uncomfortable.  I felt bad.  But I did discover that even when I did say something stupid here, or something that he didn’t like, that upset or even hurt him, he didn’t stop loving me and he didn’t leave me.  The sky didn’t fall down and we didn’t fall apart.

I am learning that…sometimes…it’s okay to screw up. That doing so doesn’t mean the world falls apart. That I don’t have to always “go along to get along.” Yes, I gotta take my lumps when I say things that affect other people, but…that’s okay too. It’s part of communicating too.  Of learning.

Live, love and learn.

Weekend Notes

October 5, 2010

I carried my keys into my office this morning in my mouth.  I’ve locked my keys in my car several times in the past few weeks.  It has been an occasional thing before (prompting Ad to make multiple copies of my car key), but now it’s becoming a disturbing trend.  I think it’s because I have things in my hands when I get out of the car, so don’t think about the keys.  So Ad suggested the keys-in-mouth trick. We’ll see if that works. Though if any of my coworkers see me they are going to laugh their asses off.


I had a good weekend.  Quiet for the most part, except for a pretty intense fisting scene W and I did Saturday night. (Heh, like how I just threw that in there? La-di-da, and oh yeah, by the way, W fisted me the other night.  No big deal…)  It is a big deal, actually, not something we do every day for sure, but I don’t know, because of the context of the situation, it didn’t have the emotional resonance it had the first time we did it. I think, actually, it was set up more in line with the way W approaches play at times: kind of objectifying and remote.  And I think that was exactly what he wanted it to be, because he was doing it to prep me for an upcoming play session with someone else.  But for me, it’s an incredibly intimate experience, and something I want to be intimate, not brutal or cold.  We talked a little about that aspect afterward as well, when I kind of reacted to some of the scene language he was using about it, and expressed some of my concerns in playing that way, with this particular act, especially with this new person he is going to allow to play with me tomorrow.

But wait, all that is not part of this blog…you’ll have to read more about that sometime over on Pieces of Jade.

What did have more emotional resonance with me was the quiet time W and I had afterward, on Sunday, laying in the grass in the park, talking about nothing–deliberately not talking about anything. We had done an awful lot of that Friday night and Saturday after we had come home from the munch, and I think we both wanted to just…be. Be in each other’s company and presence, be safe and quiet together, without the emotional climate that talking “about” things of the past week engendered.  I know I just wanted to feel cocooned, warm and safe with him.  And I did.

It was good.


There is other stuff to think about re: the weekend, but, I am not sure I’m ready/able/should talk about them. We’ll have to see.