Knotty Thursday: Tinsel and the Fancy Purple Thing!

 Before I get to Wednesday night shenanigans, there's a lot to say about Tuesday night! I have finally redeemed the Big Fancy Garden! The Shy One let me take him there for our Christmas date, and it was an absolutely PERFECT night.

As soon as we stepped out of the entrance building, a deep night-before-Solstice hush came over my whole being. The trees and archways were lit bright and the stars sparkled above in the clear, cold sky. The Shy One is tropical at heart, so he grumbled a bit about the low temp, but it was a good-natured Luke Daines kind of grumbling. He bought us hot chocolates. We took a jillion pictures of trees and lights and flowers. I asked a stranger to take our picture together.

On the drive home, I put on my  A She and Him Christmas CD until it made me too sleepy, then he DJed from his Spotify list. My tire light came on, so we pulled into a gas station to check them, and then the tire light went off.

And then, back at my place, the presents. I knew he would go all out (See: post-Ramadan princess tea cup!) and I don't have much money this year, so I painted him a little painting and made him a photo scrapbook of our cuteness so far. I got him Knots: The Complete Visual Guide and a start to his rope collection, black and silver. 

And then, his gifts for me!  A rose candle. Two pretty-scented lotions. He's always perfect with candles and lotions! And THEN, the lingerie.

I've always LOVED lingerie. I started collecting it from thrift stores when I was a teen, and lord knows this blog has seen its share of pretty bras and special-occasion undies.

But these.

These are surprise-from-a-boyfriend-in-the-best-kind-of-chick-lit-novel lacy things. They are Princess Slut Goddess lacy things. They are FANCY. 

One of the tamer pictures The Shy One took!

I tried on one set during the date, and I'll keep that lovefest mostly to myself for now, but all day yesterday, while I was blazing along through my Christmas chores, doing festively half-assed work sessions, and avoiding folding the laundry, I daydreamed about the Fancy Purple Thing. When my last client of the day cancelled, I rushed home to be with myself, to wrap myself in rope and tinsel and The Shy One's lacy love language. Very, very festive indeed.

Knotty Thursday: Being a Present

 

It felt so good to have my legs bound, but these ribbons got itchy after a while! Guess I'll repurpose them for actual non-me Christmas presents? 

Knotty Thursday: Festive Tinsel Girl!

 

Last night was a very cute night for the Shy One/Ribbons team. He was home practicing his square knot harness on a pillow (Quiz tomorrow morning! I'm a lot like a pillow!) and I was home doing---this. I felt so cute when I was done.

I'm thinking back to 2011 when I was bickering in the Target with Sweetie about whether or not The Song Sender deserved a set of Christmas ribbons to tie me up with. He didn't! But I did! Despite the name of this blog, I really haven't done much with ribbon self-ties! How silly of me! I intend to rectify this oversight all month and every December from now on.

Here's the same situation, but with pink light!

Knotty Thursday: Tough Love and the Four Braid Harness

 I haven't written in a while. I've been lazy about learning and teaching the ropes, so I asked The Shy One for some tough love. He told me I couldn't see his dick until I learned the four-strand braid well enough to teach it to him!

The way Rory of Rory's Brainworks taught it just wasn't clicking, so I went over to Macrame You Tube and picked it up so quick! It's been a while since I had a big learning-a-rope-thing surge of happiness! There it was!!

When he came over yesterday morning, it was sooooo tempting to just fall into snuggletown and forget the rope lesson, but my Teacher Voice prevailed. I was stern and somehow got us vertical and focused. I put the harness on him first. You really REALLY wish you could see the pictures I'm keeping to myself, especially this braid-over-his-buttcrack situation I improvised. It was a proud, proud day.

His phone kept chiming and buzzing downstairs. Apparently his colleagues could not live without him for the morning. So after a moment of gently kissing his rope-decorated dick, I went downstairs to get him his phone. That's when this glorious thing happened:

I joked that that's what he should say, but I didn't know he actually said it until later. I didn't know it was a life goal of mine to cause that sentence! It may be my greatest achievement!

When it was his turn to tie me, the harness came just as easily. The ropes tried to echo the braids at the top and got tangled at the bottom, but untangling them was just another sensation for my superalert body to revel in. His hands on my shoulders and the top of my back. The stopping to kiss. The sex-and-crystal-store smell of him: salty, sandalwood, and something else. Jasmine? Gardenia? Definitely something sweet. 

Knotty Thursday: YAY PROGRESS on This Four Braid Harness!

 

I've been away from the Knotty Thursdays a couple weeks due to a rogue period and trying to avert the fall of democracy (Phew for now?) but I'm glad to be back in the rope routine! I tried this one a while back and lost the plot midway through, but this time I made it to four! The Shy One assigned this one to me and I assigned it back, I'll let you know how he does! 

Knotty Thursday! Messy Corset, VERY Neat Homework!

 

I'll have to go back and retry this corset sometime! It's meant to be a quick release design, but I just wasn't in a tutorial-watching mood. Still had a wonderful time of course!

And THIS treasure really aced his hishi karada homework! Today was a day of getting texted BEAUTIFUL photos. 

Knotty Thursday! A Stitch, A Loop, a Hitch!

 

Hooray for this tutorial! I've been starting a new round of (depression/anxiety/family insurrectionsists, etc) therapy work, and yesterday's session with a new therapist had me feeling productively drained and a little jangled--I wasn't sure if I was gonna get to the happy rope place! (So may of these posts start out that way, huh? why are Wednesdays always a LOT?) I thought I might just try the alpine loop and call it a day!

Getting it right was so satisfying, so I kept going with the cow hitch "clasp":

And by the time I got that one right, I was unsurprisingly ready to change into the pretty bra and give the whole thing a whirl! It's supposed to go all the way down, but I felt like I'd learned enough for one night! 

The Goodbye Boys

Connection and attraction are weird. The two times that Mr. Adorkable came over, I felt like we were almost supernaturally linked, not just the way our bodies fit together, but personality-wise as well. We chatted and laughed like friends and played so beautifully. And then he’d go back home and hardly ever text—I should have taken that signal and kept it moving, probably.

Not-texting wasn’t how it started though. The first weekend that he had my number, back at the end of August, he was attentive, flirty, infinitely selfie-able. He was my cute text company on my solo birthday trip, to the point where I missed him when my hotel room turned out to be a Wifi-hole. I sent him a picture of a sunset mountain, of my outfit matching a wall of Warhols. Company.

But after our first date, the textiness stopped, and I don’t know why I didn’t just admit that I HATED that. Anybody can text anybody every day or so! Still, I was mindful of bandwidth. And he was so lovely and present and playful in person.

Before our second date, I reached out to ask him if he’d ghosted, a really bad sign! But he said he hadn’t, and I got more attached. Again, a song came on at the right time like we were in a movie.

But then, the not-texting again. We made a third date, but it took some nagging.

(My work life is mostly nagging--it’s my superpower! I vow to not opt into any more of it in my free time.)

(And I also vow to just recognize the next case of He’s Just Not That into You when it comes along!)

Anyway, when Mr. Adorkable told me a few hours before the planned third date that he “wasn’t feeling connected.” I wanted to be like: Duh. You didn’t even try. But I know things don’t work that way.

My point is, besides BEING TEXTED BACK IS NICE, that I’m feeling burned out from the goodbye part of dating.

A partial list of goodbye boys since last fall:

The Coach, (didn’t want to be in person, possibly dick-catfishing me)

The Lovely Guy, (very lovely, it just ran its course)

Superhot hookup guy who looked like Finn from Star Wars, (Gave me a fake last name)

This Charming Man, (Love, heartbreak, Chappelle fan)

The very-not-a-match-hookup who probably gave me Christmas Covid,

The Good Boy, (Can’t really complain about that one)

The Shy One, (GLAD I UN-SAID THAT GOODBYE!)

The Southern Charmer, (“Sometimes it’s all just…too much.”)

The Adorables,

The boy with the Sonic the Hedgehog tattoo, (Also one that said “Keep it real”)

The high school principal who had First Corinthians tattooed on his arm, (I thought this was the most romantic thing ever.)

The goth boy who was delightfully dommy in the car, (Also a terrible texter)

The Song Sender Part Two (Electric Boogaloo),

and Mr. Adorkable.

No wonder I’m so tired. I’m not writing this to slut-shame myself, far from it! I just want to acknowledge that that’s a LOT of hope/hotness/goodbye for one year. Some disappeared, some ended in wrenching conversations, one re-ended in a sweet, healing way, one un-ended.

So it’s time for a little break from strangers, time for my body and heart to process all the sexiness and wonderfulness and sadness and shame and loss and phone-checking. This year of adventures was a busy, beautiful, ravishing gift, but Mr. Adorkable was one goodbye too many for now. Just for now though.

Knotty Thursday: Chain Stitch Harness! And! The Shy One Gets an A+!

 

First, a Knotty Thursday moment of sadness: Mr. Adorkable told me on Tuesday evening, a couple hours before our planned third date, that he wasn't feeling a connection. I declined his offer to be regular friends (Probably unfairly, my brain was like "Not trying to be this guy's Fat Friend.") and devoted a good chunk of the night to sobbing, asking pals for good vibes, and talking things through with The Shy One. So I guess it's really TWO A-pluses for The Shy One this post!

Pretty soon I'll write a post called "The Goodbye Boys," but til then, there are victories to report!

Because I'd assigned this tutorial to The Shy One for his chain stitch lesson, I decided to try it myself. I learned so much! Not only did I make a supercute harness, I also did a clove hitch correctly exactly once!

AND I learned how to do a one-strand braid! You can kind of see it mixed into the bottom middle of the harness. I had just the LOVELIEST night with myself.

In other loveliness news, I tested The Shy One on his square knot and overhand knot last weekend, and he did perfectly! I'm so proud!

Love.

 

We’re in a new phase of the Kitten Calendar adventure now, friends. It wasn’t an accident when the word snuck into some goodnight GIFs. The Shy One loves me back. We had deep, complicated conversations in the days following my Big Jealousy Weekend, and those eventually landed at him saying the phrase.

He loves me. I’m loved. It feels like a safety net and a bedrock and a sunny meadow and a beach day.

Being loved isn’t new of course. Though I couldn’t always be in touch with it, I’ve been surrounded by so many different kinds of love all along. Work love, art love, nature love, friend love, even the sometimes-impossible-seeming family kind of love. Sweetie-Now-BFF and I have loved each other since 2001, with no signs of dissipating. On the teetering cliffs of romance, I’ve had a strong foothold in love, maybe that’s how I grew into someone ready, or just, he was one of the very-right ones.

I’ve had so many (JEEZ so many!) connections with men that have felt fulfilling, sexy, exciting, and (from my end at least) loving, for a few weeks or a few months. Sometimes I told them I loved them after they were gone, after a this-girl-is-crazy-loving-me-after-just-a-few dates reaction was no longer a worry or concern. I’ve loved. I’ve been wanted, liked, and THOROUGHLY fucked. But this.

It feels, a rare thing in my shifting/fleeing/healing/losing heart, like the earth is steady beneath my feet. My life can be serene, or lovely, or a cyclone of emotions, or a mess, or a newly vacuumed apartment, but his love is holding still beneath it all. A harbor. A cove. A weighted blanket. I can mix as many metaphors as I want. I’m in love.

It's tempting to remind myself to stay vigilant, to wait for some imagined other shoe to drop, and it always could. But The Shy One has asked me over and over by now: Have faith. There are tricky parts, disconnects and differences to listen and squabble and evolve through. But I have a home in someone beautiful. A home in this moment.

I fell asleep with him the other night. It took several Tums and some melatonin and eventually I’m going to have to stop feeling too self-conscious to get up and have my night cereal, but for a couple of hours, I slept. Next to his beautiful, strong body, his soft hands petting me, his breath in my hair.

My cat is very shy. She usually sleeps with me, either right next to me or perched on my hip. When there’s company, she generally hides in the closet. Dates have only known her as a grey streak as she runs from the closet to her hiding place inside the couch.

But Saturday night, while I was laying blissful and awake next to The Shy One, I heard the grey cat’s claws kneeding the side of the mattress. I reached down to pet her, and she jumped up. She sat on my hip for a moment before she remembered there was a non-me person in the bed. She fled almost immediately, but still. It feels like progress.

Knotty Thursdays: Mr. Adorkable Hits Me with Things, YAY!

 

Is it cheating that I sometimes hand in a nice boy's design as my rope homework? I guess bottoming is rope practice too?

What I should have taken a picture of was Mr. Adorkable's TOY BAG. I'd told him I needed all the spanks after my (mostly self-inflicted) stressful weekend, so he brought everything. Oh MAN I've missed being hit with all the thuddy things. I've missed typing the word thuddy! We were making out and I smelled another nice smell besides us and I was like, "Oh, that's all the things you're gonna hit me with."

I missed the smell of leather, which I've never even really thought about at all!

Before that, though, the ropes. 

I love the way he worked his design around the bra, I felt like it was too pretty to take off. (It flipped right down so nicely when the time came! I should probably get this outfit in all the colors.) My favorite part was the way that little tail at the back tickled--when he was working on that part, I just giggled and squirmed with pure joy. Profound joy! I kinda transcended a little.

It's maybe not advisable to tell someone they feel like a puzzle piece on the second date, huh? But he just does. I like the way we just easily fit together. And I like the way songs come on just at the right moment. This time, a little on the nose, it was "Closer" by Nine Inch Nails. 

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part Three (A Good Cry)

 

(As I finish up writing about this gorgeous date from three weeks ago, last weekend’s worry and jealousy has come and gone. I did everything wrong and it turned out okay. There was no Perfect Unicorn Lady because they weren’t looking for one. He had a lovely spouse weekend full of sunshine, rest, and friends. I want my brain to remember that, no matter who else joins his constellation. I want to have more faith.)

Back to September second: When we got to my apartment after the Dreamiest Uber Ride Ever, after I put his leftover lobster mac and cheese in the fridge, I took him upstairs to try the new purple ropes. I showed him how to do an overhand knot, then how to redo that overhand knot so it would land in the right place. The whole scene, the whole night, was purple, just shimmering with otherworldly magic and regal beauty. Purple. That’s how I feel about The Shy One.

Sex, of course. Beautiful and THOROUGH and sweet. He drifted off and promised to wake up around 2am to do a whole bunch more. I knew he would make good on that promise.

But after The Shy One fell asleep, I got sad. It felt like my g-spot was connected to my tear ducts, that a physical and emotional floodgate had opened up. My birthday had brought with it more family estrangement, my brother treating me with contempt and control. My brother had called me a hateful bully for trying to stand up to our most insurrectionist relative, and I’d cancelled the family Zoom I’d scheduled for the following night. (In favor of an art installation friends’ night out though, yay!)

I was also crying because it was going to be almost a month before I would see The Shy One again. It felt almost like a long-distance arrangement, even though we live in the same city. It was the feeling I felt so long ago when Perfectly 1993 Guy came to visit from college—acutely aware of how many hours were left.

I got up out of bed to write, but I put the notebook down midpage. The sweetest man in the universe was sleeping in my bed upstairs. If I needed to cry, I could cry to him. So I did. It felt like the biggest step.

He gathered me up and held me while I cried. I felt bad because “I miss my brother” was hardly sexy date talk. But The Shy One listened. He comforted me and I let him. We didn’t talk about the too-far-apart dates, but we’ve started resolving that by now.

At my cousin’s birthday party in 2008, my brother flipped out on me about a social justice comment I made during a family board game. “You ruin every party,” he said. That characterization has stuck in my head and in my heart. In some ways, it’s true: Thanksgiving of 2016 very much deserved to be decimated, even if one of my nephews has never quite forgiven me.

So I feel guilty about having had less-than-ebullient emotions in the middle of such a magical night, but I’m so, SO glad I confided in The Shy One. I’m glad I let him see the vulnerability that had bubbled to the surface. I’m grateful that he made me feel safe enough to cry.

Plus, when the promised 2am hotness came around, I felt even more warmth, love and trust with him. A perfect, perfect night indeed.

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part Two

(As I sit down to type about this dreamy date, it’s a really, REALLY tough day here in polyland. I don’t think anyone ever died of being left out of a sexy, beachy, play party-y weekend, but it feels like I might.

I usually love my Saturdays to myself, love reading and taking walks and zoning out on my Animal Crossing island. I love listening to Nicole Wallace on a Saturday night to get riled up enough to fold the clothes. But today, nothing’s working. My brain just wants me to think about why they’re there and I’m not, how I’ll never find a real place in his life.)

Filet mignon. Lobster mac and cheese. Wine on my own since he hasn’t been drinking with me lately. Cheesecake with a birthday candle in it. Maybe I am a fancy date girl after all.

It’s strange being in such a wildly romantic context with a guy who doesn’t do PDA. Handholding had to express the whole bouquet of attractions and emotions, it’s pretty intense. We talked and schemed. I made him blush. I love the way his entire face glows when I tease him—the deep-seated smile, the twinkling eyes. Oh, the cheeks. I can’t even with this guy.

On the way home, the driver’s seat was too far back, so my legs wouldn’t fit on my side, they had to spill over onto The Shy One’s feet. Half a cuddle. More hand-holding. I felt swoony even though the music on the radio decidedly wasn’t, felt like I was looking at the moon even though I wasn’t. I closed my eyes and felt his hand softly on my arm. I opened them and saw the city lights, glowing in the twilight, the river reflecting the darkening sky.

Let’s just take a moment to say: I love him. I love him to the moon and streetlights and stars, from the river to the whole entire sea. I love him as sweet as birthday cheesecake and as special as wine. He hasn’t said the love thing yet, though the l-word snuck into a couple of GIFs last week, maybe by accident. But he does the love thing—he is love as a verb. He listens, he pets, he caresses, he reassures. He celebrates. Someday maybe he’ll say the thing, maybe I’ll wait forever. But for now, love as a verb.

 

Perfect Birthday Date with The Shy One, Part One

 

(I’m behind on my cuteness reporting—this date was two weeks ago.)

(Right now, The Shy One is getting ready for a spouses' trip wherein it’s likely he’ll/they'll hook up with a friend. In my head, (I know almost nothing about her) she is the perfect unicorn and will definitely negate any future need for me. He has taken great care to assure me that that won’t be the case, (the negating, I mean) and the assurance means a lot, but still. It’s a vulnerable moment to be paragraphing about him, or maybe the perfect moment. They haven’t invented that turn-me-into-a-compersion-robot-for-the-weekend technology yet, so I’m doing my best to love myself through the complicated-but-mostly-just-rooting-for-him fraughtness.)

Now for the fancy date story! Although, as we’ve established, I see myself as Upstairs in the Downton sense, I’ve never seen myself as someone who could be taken on a fancy date. Sweetie-Now-BFF and I have treated ourselves from time to time, but being taken out someplace by a man? That’s movies, not me. So when The Shy One picked a fancy steakhouse downtown to celebrate my birthday, I was completely dazzled and pretty intimidated.

I had weeks to prepare/make myself nervous. I spent a good chunk of time scrolling through purple dresses online and I found the perfect one: long, gauzy, royal purple, with a thick satin ribbon at the empire waist. The shop had it labeled “mother of the bride” but to me, it was a princess dress. It came right away and fit perfectly, just like a shipping fairy tale.

Then, on a solo mini-vacation in an artsy mountain town, I found just the right baubly necklace at a flea market for three dollars! And a pretty beaded mauve purse at a vintage shop that looked like the inside of the B-52s collective mind. I hadn’t bought a specific purse for a specific reason since my wedding nineteen (!) years ago. It was like Artsy Mountain Town was playing the role of fairy godmother.

Purse-buying aside, I tried (unsuccessfully) not to get too carried away about this date. I was a little overwhelmed and self-conscious, had even a little trouble feeling worthy. This is a thing I run into a lot these beautiful, romantic days—how is this happening to actual me?! A year ago, I couldn’t even get The Coach to come fuck me in person!

When the Friday night of the date arrived, I felt so gorgeous that I texted my closest neighbors to see if they could come take my picture. I ran into them out front and posed for the camera while I waited for my Lyft.

I never went to the prom (My date, the prettiest hippie girl in any given mosh pit, got scared to go because we’d been targeted a bully lacrosse player girl a few times. I had the perrrrrfect dress picked out for that night too though, fresh from the Thrifty Shopper. It was pink polyester with long floaty, translucent sleeves that had sparkly buttons at the cuffs. Someone had sewn it by hand, and there was a same-pink-fabric triangle sewn in at the neckline. A little on the nose. I wore that dress A LOT in my late teens/ early 20s. You may or may not remember that disco had a Nineties revival.) but this 2022 birthday moment was a little taste of what prom might have felt like.

When the car pulled up in front of the restaurant, I saw The Shy One and said to the Lyft driver “Right here. Oh my goodness, look at him.”

He was wearing a light blue dress shirt and, in his pocket, had perfectly matched blue shades. He looked as nervous as I felt, and we went inside.

As she led us to our table, the hostess asked, “Do you have any plans after this?” and I could not find it in me to be a normal person in that moment and just say “No, not really!” and deflect the question. But we DID have plans afterwards, and all I could picture was my new royal purple set of ropes.

“…Sort of?” I said, giggling and trying to stifle a huge smile.

“Do I want to know? She asked, leading us up the formal staircase to our booth on the mezzanine.

“Probably not!” I giggled some more.

Knotty Thursday: M'Lady's Corset and Very Happy Rope News!

 

Happy Thursday, superpals! I'm really excited about how this corset came out--the bottom part was a Rory's Brainworks creation, (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KGlQHKagxJo) but I spaced out and made the upper part all on my own! It's basically an echo of how the corset is built, but with just the pink middle ropes. This is one of my favorite creations of all time. The Shy One said I have to give it a special name, so I called it M'Lady's Corset because a ladder is kind of like Upstairs. Downton Abbey kink 4life.

And! Okay, I'm behind on the cuteness-reporting when it comes to The Shy One (Sooooo many paragraphs upcoming!) but guess what! He wants to learn the ropes for real! He wants to do "real classes, without distractions"--not sure I can provide that, but I do aim to try! We've been having a both-our-birthdays extravaganza all month, and today I found a pretty gift bag to give him my practice ropes and one of my pairs of rainbow safety scissors. He sent me the picture below and I sent him a link to Rory's channel. I'm so pleased that my sweetheart boyfriend is taking up the knots with me! I can't WAIT to see what we create together.

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes, Part Three

Mr. Adorkable is all pounce. At some point in the proceedings, he went down on me like he was jumping into a pool, or like I was candy! He’s so open and full of glee. All the while, because he’s an extranice match, my goth mix was on shuffle.

(NOT the goth mix I made for The Song Sender. RIP that mix. Or, see you in 2033. That gum you like is going to come back in style. Sorry, Twin Peaks digression.)

ANYWAY, back to the hotness at hand. After I asked for a break and he offered sex, Mr. Adorkable grabbed the thigh rope and spread my legs wide. I warned him that I didn’t remember the last time I’d shaved and he said “Huh. Seems pretty recent.” I don’t think he would’ve cared if it wasn’t.

Once he was between my legs, I hooked my not-tied leg over his hip and it’s almost like we clicked together, satisfying like Legos or puzzle pieces. I settled in underneath him, such a cozy fit.

He fucks with generosity, enthusiasm, and expertise. This is why you should always fuck married guys—they may have less time to play, but while they’re here, they really make it count. I may have said some or all of that thought out loud in the moment.

Another thing I had to say our loud mid-fuck was “Oops, I forgot to ask about aftercare. We can snuggle after, right?”

“Oh, of course,” he said “Though I can’t stay too long, there’s work tomorrow.”

My arms had long since been untied. The thigh rope may have been tied to the headboard. My legs were up around his shoulders and I was coming and coming and coming, ready to invite him to come too, when Cloudbusting came on, of course it did. The perfect way to send off the Kate Bush summer, in ecstasy.

Heck yeah, something good is gonna happen, it almost always does. (“Just saying it can even make it happen…”)

His aftercare was, unsurprisingly, sweet, warm, and cheerful. He told me I had been a good girl, of course, that I’d done a good job. He ran his perfect hand from my hip to my waist to my shoulder and told me that I deserve to feel this good.

I can’t wait, can’t wait, can’t WAIT to see him again. That’s next Monday.

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes, Part Two

 

He wasn’t in my apartment for long before I had him upstairs. He hadn’t brought his rope kit (I guess that would have seemed like a lot on a first date to anyone who isn’t me!) but I was happy to let him use mine.

I don’t know when the kissing started. Maybe we were always kissing. He picked up the orange rope and twined it around my wrists, making a double column that looked like a pretty bow. He already knew to be careful with my tricky right arm because, bless him, he’d read me.

Next he started winding a harness around my chest, over the bra at first. It felt new and shivery to not being the one doing the tying, to not know what was going to happen next. (Not that I always know what will happen next when I AM tying!) I liked being the canvas and not the artist, or maybe just another kind of artist. As the ropes tightened around me, I felt such soft affection for him, leaned into his warm body and kissed him some more.

He's a little taller than me, with pretty hazel eyes and a perpetual smile. His face and shoulders seem just a little more sculpture-like than one might expect of a regular human. And I don’t know if he’s purposely emulating present-day Wil Wheaton’s look, but it’s working for him anyway. SO CUTE.

After the harness, he went for the thigh. Ahhhhhh…sighhhh. Such a pretty, simple knot with so much possibility and promise. I liked being beneath him as he tied, I felt happy and curious and safe and sooooo wet.

After, with some difficulty, we’d wrangled the bra off from under the ropes, I got to feel one of my VERY favorite feelings in the universe: Naked except the ropes, my arms back, his mouth on my nipple. I looooove the way all my sensitivities brighten, the shiver of safe fear, the helplessness spark through every nerve. I felt his warmth shudder all though me, deep in my bones, electric and alive.

And then, he was kneeling above me, his dick hardening in my mouth, shoved in sideways. It grew and expanded as I got it as far down my throat as I could, gagged and tried again, gagged and tried again. He was big and so beautiful kneeling above me, my head in his hands, his fingers tangled in my hair.

After a while, the vulnerability of this, the whole-body gagging was too much, and I asked for a break.

“Oh, okay, would you like to have sex? He asked so cheerful-politely!

Yes, yes I would. That is an excellent way to take a break!

Mr. Adorkable and the Ropes: Part One

 

I am so far behind on my blogging. The last few weeks have been such a flood of cuteness, it’s hard to put into words! So I set a timer, put on the lo-fi mix, and I’m ready to start telling you about Mr. Adorkable.

I met him on Feeld, of course, swiped right because his big smile and cute glasses reminded me of The Boy Who Sewed Me a Pillow, but dommier. He mentioned ropes, he’s switchy like me, and he had excellent texting game. He was my inbox company for a couple days while I was on a solo mini-vacation in the mountains. He used a lot of exclamation points! Enthusiasm is one of the dreamiest things in the world.

The cute goth boy from my last hot first date didn’t stick around, but he did inspire me to stop being such a lazy couch-dater all the time. Mr. Adorkable chose us a quiet bar on one of the artsier streets near me. We chose the quar-era outdoor seating even though it was a humid and drizzly night—sultry. Romantic. Private for talking about what we might like to do to each other.

The waitress, who wore glitter around her eyes, said our drinks looked good together. I had a strawberry mojito, he had something I don’t remember. I thought we looked good together, I already felt like a match before we took the first sip.

Again with the cute glasses, except this time they were a bright blue that matched my dress. He was quippy and energetic and silly and so easy to banter with. Oh! Good banter will get me every time. He matched my complete lack of chill, my delight, note for note.

OF COURSE I was going to invite him home with me. After my adventures with The Song Sender, I’d been hankering to get dominated, but in a more playful and kinder way. Mr. Adorkable seemed more than amenable. Plus, he admitted to being kinda goth, so I had just the playlist.

Before we get to snuggletown, though, the other thing that really endeared him to me was his relationship structure! He is out to his family and friends, and he and his wife try to avoid hierarchy as much as possible. His other partner seemed to be part of his life in deep and everyday ways. He even showed me a picture of the other partner hanging out with him and son! Superswoon at the cozy possibilities—my poly heart grew butterfly wings and fluttered up into the sky.

 

Knotty Thursday: Weaving Practice!

 Like everything I make, it looks nothing like the tutorial! Weaves that look so nice and neat on a mannequin (or, presumably, a skinny person) tend to scooch up on me, but I think it turned out so beautifully! I like the way the magenta and purple ropes look together, and I love the feeling of focus and peace that comes over me when I'm trying a new tie: I turned into human lo-fi!

Knotty Thursday: Three-Braid Harness and The Shy One Sexts!

 

I think this one is so pretty! Definitely one of my favorite rope selfies so far! If I do it again, I might start with an overhand knot and do the first braid a little lower-it got too tight on my neck after a little while. 

I adapted the harness from this Rory's Brainworks tutorial: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i6exY0MxmC8 It's one I'll probably refer to a lot, there are lots of different ways to finish it off, none of which ended up in this tie. I like how the weave-y bit looks kinda like armor, that part was my own fuzzy-headed creation.

Most exciting though! A wonderful first! I sent The Shy One the picture above, plus a face-showing version, and he took us to sextingtown! Where we've never been! I loved having GORGEOUS pictures of his cock, both under undies and free, to keep me company while I fired up the Rabbit. I loved learning about some more things he wants to try! I loved sending him a sleepy-grateful picture of my post-orgasm face snuggling up with my Snorlax squishmallow.  

I'd mentioned wanting to sext during our DTR talk week before last, and I'm so so happy that he remembered and went for it! I remain the luckiest Ma'am in the universe.

What I Want, Part Three

7. SEE ABOVE.

8. I want to keep getting better and better at the ropes, learn all kinds of new knots and harnesses. It’s time, too, to learn a little more about restraining the cuties. I want all kinds of Ma’am and Sir pleasures. And I ESPECIALLY want to tie The Shy One to the bed a BUNCH more times.

9. I want to take, send, and receive lots more superhot pictures. Lots of beautiful cute-iful pictures. Something about the way The Song Sender saw me made me super-smitten with selfie-ing. I got bolder in asking for and sending smutty pictures, collected so many new ways to photo-flirt! I’d love to keep that going. Photoplay was such a big part of my early adventures-- I can’t wait to see what lands in the Hidden Folder next!

10. I want good communication. I want to learn good communication. I’d love to break through my layers of crush and guardedness and just figure out how to say what needs saying, with way less angst and drama on my part.

That means figuring out how to say “I miss you” instead of panicking that I’ll be forgotten. It means writing though layers of old bitterness and hurt so I don’t take it out on the sweet people of now. I could be so much better at this!

I want to let people be in touch the way they want to, but I’d also like all the cute texts all the time please! With emojis. And pictures of flowers and trees and pets and clouds and hot, hot bodies. I want to know each dear is thinking of me and let them know I’m thinking of them.

11. I want to fall asleep easier when I have company in bed. I love being in The Shy One’s arms listening to him snore sweetly, enjoying the warmth and peace, but it’s SO hard for me to fall asleep that way! That’s partly because of the excitement, my heart won’t stop racing with him no matter how many (SO many) times I’ve come, racing with happiness and exertion and oh-my-goodness-how-am-I-so-lucky-ness! But I would love to relax into him, into any of them, and fell asleep. Not worry about farting. Not worry he’ll disappear. Just know he’s with me, and drift off.

 

Goth Synchronicity and a Hot First Date

Last weekend, I was lounging on the (regular) beach with Rainbow Pal when they asked, “So did you and (The Song Sender) bond over it being Kate Bush Summer?”

Not really—it’s hard to believe that TSS lives in the same universe with something as sweet and sincere as Stranger Things. I had to admit, too, that for TSS Part Two, (Electric Boogaloo), I was the only one sending songs. Supersigh.

Then, THE NEXT DAY, in just the same shoulda-wished-for-a million-dollars way that The Song Sender had appeared in real life after my subby-nostalgia convo with Rainbow Pal at the beginning of the summer, I found myself sitting beside the river at night making a new playlist on a first date!

I wasn’t even sure I was ready to try someone new. I was still mopey/traumatized about The Song Sender and I’m still processing all the goodness with The Shy One. Still, I was charmed that this nice elder millennial had picked an out-in-the-world date instead of a couch one, and that his username was another word for spiritual joy, so I picked out an outfit and rallied. So glad I did.

He met me at my favorite bridge and was, like most people are, cuter than his profile picture. A little shorter than me, with dark hair and those fluffy eyelashes I can never resist. Columbian, he’d tell me later. He was wearing a shirt that said “Mordor”—you know I can’t resist the grumpy boys.

The walking and talking and playlist-making were PERFECT. I mean, other than having to hear boy-opinions about Captain Marvel. I thought it was so cute when he ruled out The Smiths from our playlist, since Morrissey grew up to be a nightmare.

But the best part was when we sat in my car a moment to say goodnight. This is usually when I would bring a first date home, but I had to get up early Monday morning. I had assumed I was going to dominate him, but he turned out to be a wonderful instigator. He started with a firm former-massage-therapist (!) touch on my arm, asking how to care for my tricky right arm during d/s situations.

Then he was all like “But you want it here, don’t you,” then went for the back of my neck, where the sub switch is!

He kissed me so insistently that I thought I would never get away, never stop, never sleep that night or any night. He was so powerfully in charge that it took me SEVERAL ardent tries to pry myself away and say goodnight. Not sure what happens next, but WHOA what a first date.

Knotty Thursday: Nice Tall Boy, Athena Harness

It's been a while since I've had in-person Wednesday company besides myself! This nice new boy did such a good job! Even tidied the ropes as he was helping to take them off!

This harness is a favorite, and I think I'm getting better at it every time!

There's this thing that the thirty-year-olds do, where they come over for the older-lady fantasy and/or to try the ropes, and that's that. I hope this one isn't like that, but even if it was, he was warm snuggles, sweet kisses, an eager and just-slightly-hair-pully blowjob. 

I think it's so sweet and generous to come over and be such a good canvas, whatever happens next!

I think I'm getting somewhere with this weave-y thing I made up, but it's a little sloppy here. Better practice some more!

He asked how I manage to tie myself up, so I had no choice but to show him! Also, I need more ropes.

What I Want, Part Two: Being a Romantic Slut

4. I want submission.

Near the beginning of the summer (Before it was even Kate Bush Summer!) I was on a mini-road-trip to The Fancy Garden with Rainbow Pal. I haven’t gotten to write about them yet, but they’ve been central to helping me dream up the creative sluttiness of the past couple of months. We’re both tenderhearted artists and I believe we might be platonic soulmates—they’re right up there with Angel Face when it comes to transformative friendships.

Anyway, as I was driving us home, they were telling me about a dom they used to have, and WHOOSH I remembered.

The hush of letting someone take over control. The precious, adorable feeling of being small, so small I’m almost nothing. And yet, seen in a slutty, delightedly filthy way that really happens to me so rarely. As anyone who reads me knows, I’ve been playfully spanked, had my hair pulled, been called a “good girl” during rough blow job practice, but none of it was THAT FEELING. Surrender. Pushing myself to bend and please. And that clearheaded feeling the next day, the one I didn’t realize I’d been missing.

And the DAY AFTER that conversation with Rainbow Pal, I ran into The Song Sender at the movies. So many aspects of subbing that I LOVED him for in 2011 came back again, and so many new games and desires sprouted up in my filthy heart. I assigned myself homework. I told him lovely, rough-to-sweet, elaborate slutty stories, fiction and not, in person and over text. I lost my mind and sent him poems about mystical submission to god. Aaaaaaaallllllllll the pictures I sent him, naked and not.

It’s confusing to have felt so seen by someone who will also never actually see me at all. To have been so fulfilled by someone who both feared and actively got off on disappointing me.

Somehow, in all of that, I got a taste of what a loving dom might feel like. I don’t know if it will be in the context of a romantic relationship (I hope so!) or if it will be its own thing. I’ll never find anyone to replace The Song Sender, yay and sob, but I hope to find a kinder, deeper, more sustainable version of that beautiful, BEAUTIFUL feeling.

5. I WANT ROMANCE and synchronicity.

The night I had dinner with The Shy One and we decided to be some kind of a thing again, it was like eleven million degrees out. But he’s not a PDA guy, so I had to put him in my car to kiss him. We kissed like it has been two years instead of two months. He smelled so him, and we were both dressed up so nice for dinner, and we were SWEATING. But it was so hard to let him get out of the car.

People get so tripped up by the word romance. I think it freaks a lot of people out because they think it’s about wedding dresses, and babies, and all the other Relationship Escalator things. Those things ARE a kind of romance, but they’re not what I mean.

Back to that road trip with the submission conversation, Rainbow Pal and I talked a lot about the Romance of Life, and that’s what I mean that I want. Beauty, sensuality, pleasure, awe, those things are all around us, whether we are partnered or not. When The Song Sender wasn’t passing the Turing Test or when somebody I wanted to date turns out to have been a hookup, I still always have flowers, the ocean, the intricacies of clouds.

There’s always a song that comes along and gives the exact right message. There’s always the advice I give myself in dreams. There’s always the Tarot deck to unstick my imagination when it’s getting stagnant.

I love the romantic moments I share with partners, like when The Shy One texts me flowers, but I’m also SO GRATEFUL that this list item is one I can keep giving myself.

6. And to that end, I want to keep dating myself. It was one of my 10 goals for 2022, and it has opened my world up maybe more than any other goal ever. I would love to keep giving myself the beautiful moments I deserve. Each time, I know a little deeper that I deserve them.

Knotty Thursday: Pretty Half-Hitch Pattern!

 

TMI alert: I'm deep in the hot-flash woods of perimenopause, and what that has meant this month is that I've had my period for THREE WEEKS. I had to get special medicine to make it stop. Along with end-of-the-world heat and a broken car air conditioner (now blessedly fixed) plus last week's breakup thing, I felt achey and crabby last night all the way to my bones.

I found this nice futomomo pattern that I liked:

(Did you know that futomomo literally translates to "fat leg"? Love it.)

But I wasn't feeling bendy enough and I kept worrying that I was going to bleed onto my pretty new post-breakup sheets. It took me a loooong while to accomplish anything, but finally, I put on my trusty lo-fi mix and settled into just practicing the pattern--I think it turned out lovely!

What I Want, Part One (The Easy Part)

There’s always a certain amount of futility in these lists, because the next characters who come along could knock me on my ass just as much as any ever have. If you’d told me in June that “summer fling with The Song Sender” would be in the cards, (Literally. The Lover and The Devil! Yikes and yay. Yay and yikes.)  I would have laughed in your face and told you about a dream I had a few years ago, wherein I was explaining to him: “We just call it strangling now.” More about that guy in part two, but for now, the easy things:

1.     I’m solo poly, and not necessarily destined for the kitchen table, at least not right away. I like my space, and I’ve discovered in the past few weeks that I like each combination to have time to grow before stirring my darlings’ darlings into the mix.

 

That doesn’t rule out future deep relationships with metamours or even some magical unicorn miracle, but I want to take my time. Every person is a LOT. I am A LOT. I would like any given combination to have its feet under it before I start to learn the next humans. Because I will LOVE THEM TOO and that will be, you know, a lot.

 

2.     I definitely do want polyamory. I would love to stop trying to wedge myself into monogamy every few years out of—self-protection? Weird poly/bi phobia left over from my divorcing years? There have been such LOVELY combinations of humans, such bursts or yes-this-is-exactly-it happiness that I would love to see some more.

 

The Shy One, The Song Sender, and a hookup whose name I barely remember but who made for a fucking GLORIOUS week. This Charming Man, The Lovely Guy, and that other hookup who gave me the wrong name. The Good Boy, The Southern Charmer, and The Adorables. Ideally, most of those would have lasted a lot longer, and I know that humans are NOT art supplies, but I felt like an artist working in the medium of slut, and I would lovelovelove for that to happen again.

 

3.     I don’t necessarily want The Relationship Escalator, but I want feelings. Lovey-dovey feelings, friendly feelings, and d/s feelings. Nobody has to love as easily or as quickly or as thoroughly as I do, but I want them to not feel/seem like a trapped animal when the warmth and affection come into play. Talking about relationships the other night, The Shy One said “I just go in kamikaze, and if it doesn’t work, I just try again.” BFF-Formerly-Sweetie has always called my same strategy “jumping in with both feet.” I don’t always, but when I do, I would love to hang around long enough to let them see if they can catch up.

 

To accomplish that, I would like to not get so mad at myself for the feelings. I would like to give myself space to feel them and be a little less quick to flee.

 

And yes, I would like some of them, eventually, to adore me. To love me wildly, emphatically, and forever. Please.