Merry Tinsel Shibari to You!

 

I wanted to write a whole thing about Elfness and darkness and pleasure and melancholy, but I got a cold for Christmas so my head is all fuzzy.

I'm profoundly grateful for self-tie nights, for this lavish way of loving myself. And I'm profoundly grateful to you, for rooting for me and for giving me a safe place to show off! Wishing you every magical thing, this week, next year, and forever.

End of a Flirt Era, a Zap of Loneliness

Even when I made the car appointment, I felt a little off, like I would be wrong to expect this trip to be another round of “if onlys” from Cute Car Place Guy. I felt off, ashamed, exposed—all emotions too dramatic for an errand. Driving in Monday morning, to get the oil change done and have them check the weird noise the heater’s (I mistyped “heart’s) making, I had such a sad feeling. Shame mixed with loss and sleepiness. The heater had been making a noise, but of course it wasn’t that morning!

It was the first time in years that I didn’t see Cute Car Place Guy smiling and beckoning me to pull in. He was nowhere to be seen and they assigned Valentine and me to the new guy, who was admittedly also cute. I felt like I’d been found out, like I’d gotten in trouble.

When CCPG DID appear, he called me by my given name, which is not the name I go by. Nothing like realizing I’m not a main character (Of course I’m not!) in this person’s life, or even a guest star! We got a chance to chat as we usually do, though. He always starts with “Staying out of trouble?” and of course I have been, a little too much lately!

It turns out, he has separated from his wife, the wife he’s been complaining to me about for years. Typing that makes me realize it’s actually pretty reasonable to feel a bunch of shame about this! I’ll change that to “remorse” but still! We’ve been hitting on each other for like five years of his marriage! Gross!

Then, it felt for the rest of my wait like he was avoiding me and like I should be avoiding him. I felt too loud and very not-charming. When I got the too-high bill, I wondered what was wrong with me that I’ve been having the car serviced at the dealership for almost ten years?! There’s a perfectly good and less-expensive place so much closer to home!

I’m kind of committed to the whole Boyfriend Material thing, and this guy is not, and could never be, the right one. The whole vibe is just…gone, and that’s probably a good thing.

It makes me sad. It was a kind of love, him looking after Valentine and me, being there with the discounts (Were they, though?) and almost always game to ruffle my feathers and buoy my spirits a little bit. Sometimes even bringing up the original ask-out/thank you note I sent him in…2019? Something like that?

Is it because of Luke Daines that I associate car-care with affection? Remember when he replaced like ALL the insides of Lorelai’s Jeep so she could keep the original body?

One of the cute guys at work offered to install a new heater motor for me (On top of all this, the sound still sounds!) so I’m currently squeeing and overthinking about that! The idea of handing him my keys fills me with fizzy forbidden bubbles.

Anyway, the end of a flirt era—what do I do with this? When a relationship ends, there’s a protocol, pictures to scroll through. A playlist I’ve been curating my whole life! I guess what I do is write this blog post and feel sad and lonely for a while.

I stand by my earlier-this week sanguine magnanimity, but for a few days I’m just kinda freaking out. I think the CCPG fantasy filled a bigger need than I thought it did. I think I held out a stronger hope that it was a slow-burn meet-cute than I wanted to admit to. I’m afraid there’s just NO ONE, that this dating slump will collide with age 50 this coming year and I will never touch a man again!

At the same time, letting go of what isn’t, recognizing where I really am and what I really want, makes room for the right things to happen. The open door of new possibility does feel a little bit good.

A Bad Dating Year is Not the Worst Thing

I’ve been studying awe lately. This is one of my favorite brain books of all time, and I haven’t even finished it yet!

So maybe that’s why the titular epiphany was easy to recognize when it came along. I’m sorry to be a Spotify commercial, but I love the Wrapped time of year so much. When I saw that I started listening to Frank Ocean’s cover of Moon River on February 6 and remembered that that’s the day The Shy One broke up with me, I was overwhelmed with giddy joy. With love. The beautiful absurdity of this year. It felt like my heart was laughing. It felt like a being-set-free.

After week-before-last’s bad review situation, I settled into it: There were highlights, but this was a bad year of dating. The past ten months especially have been full of grief, false starts, acting-outs, minor deceptions, and not-quite-right connections. Too many hookups in relationship-potential clothing. Deleted email drafts. More than one art project about grief. Setting a timer for ten minutes so I could moon safely over the Hidden Folder. It’s beautiful and ridiculous and I love it.

I rang in the New Year overjoyed, in a balloon-bopping collective effervescence with Rainbow Pal, singing to a sassy and sparkly cover of Dancing on My Own. When I left the club, WhatsApping across the ocean to the beautiful Shy Ones, a single golden firework popped over the parking lot. I felt like it was just for me. I kind of still do.

This year gave me so many gifts, not just the beautiful string of coconut-shell beads that well never look right on me. The wallpaper on my desktop is the lush pink and purple flowers I got from my Birthday Good Boy/Hookup. I’ve been building my collection of frilly things. My Duolingo has five languages going. I’m obsessed with Afrobeats, even though the genre gives me all the feelings. BECAUSE it does.

December is a relief, too full of crafts and gifts and next-year’s-goal-setting to worry too much about dating. There are three cute guys at work but I love myself and my job too much to hit on them. I’ll bring the car in before Christmas trips and flirt with the car place guy. I’ll visit the museum I was supposed to see last February. I’ll spend New Years with BFF or on my own or who knows where. Maybe I’ll just be starting a new puzzle.

Dear Shy One, dear Rainbow Pal, dear EVERYONE, I’m overflowing with love for you as if it were the first time and the last. You shine out of me permanently and I hope I can glimmer out of you sometimes too. We’re doing the thing, I’m so proud of us. We’re exquisitely and exhaustingly and delightfully alive.

Dearest, DEAREST 2023, thank you for all you’ve given me. Let’s type in some Rumi for the road:

“Out beyond ideas of wrongdoing and
rightdoing,
there is a field. I’ll meet you there.
When the soul lies down in that grass,
the world is too full to talk about.
Ideas, language, even the phrase “each
other”
doesn’t make any sense.
The breeze at dawn has secrets to tell
you.
Don’t go back to sleep.
You must ask for what you really want.
Don’t go back to sleep.
People are going back and forth across
the doorsill
where the two worlds touch.
The door is round and open.
Don’t go back to sleep.”

A Bad Review and a Glimmer of Faith, Part 2

The next day was Thanksgiving Eve. I’d expected to wish EG well on his trip to see family and spend the evening cleaning up for Thanksgiving with BFF. I had a dystopian audiobook ready and everything! 1984 from Julia’s perspective!!!

But EG wasn’t leaving til 10 that night and was determined to wedge in some sex, in-person or virtual. I told him I was in chore mode but I’d see him after the holiday, but send cute pictures! I meant, like, what’s your Thanksgiving dinner sweater like, but he said “No promises, I’m sharing a room with my brothers.” I guess there was only one kind of picture he was interested in sending.

And he wasn’t backing down on the before-he-left sex. “How about fifteen minutes going down on you and 15 minutes penetration?” He typed, after I’d said no.

Is this what I’m supposed to be? A sex app, ready whenever you need me, no basic courtesy required?

I again should have blocked him but I tried to be cute instead, sending back a Ma’am-ish “You need to learn to take no for an answer.”

“Forget I said anything, Ma’am.”

“Forgotten, (kiss emoji)”

But as I folded clothes and swept up, I realized this wasn’t a thing I liked.

“Are you looking for strictly just sex?” I typed. “I tend to like chitchat no matter what kind of connection. I understand if you’re looking for something more casual.”

And then Entitled Guy was pissed.

“After one night of terrible virtual sex you ask me this?”

The difference of perspective about the night before was jarring—where I’d experienced playfulness, openness, so much hopeful hotness, he’d found something lacking. I had let him do most of the work (those <3 lovely! <3 voice memos!) but that seemed in line with him wanting to be a Good Boy in the first place!

I guess maybe the “terrible” was because I didn’t want to Facetime? To have been un-terrible, would I have had to do what he wanted, when he wanted it?

Am I just playing an entirely different game from everyone else? Is it time to put away the Ma’am/Good Boy part of what I like?

Thinking back to my beautiful 2022 Good Boy, I hope not! Though that connection was fleeting and didn’t really have a real-daily-life potential, he was so cute, playful, and fun! (Pardon me while I pause to compose an opera to his dick, too!) And there was so much adorable chitchat in that dynamic! I remember the passion with which he told me why Sunkern is the worst Pokémon! (He said it with such contempt! Sunkern!) I remember him singing along to Carly Rae Jepsen’s Boy Problems! I think, I hope, The Good Boy felt fully human and fully celebrated—I know I did!

Ugh this year of dating! There have been some real gems, and like three or four languages I started learning, but my heart hasn’t moved forward as much as I’d hoped it would. If I’m honest, my heart spent most of its time this year mourning and still loving The Shy One. It’s so annoying that he set me free to find My Person and this is the dating year I’ve had!

I can always keep trying, can always keep hoping that someone will sweep me past that memory and into a new swirl of emotion. But also, if that’s what I needed this year for, okay. I’m in a process and I don’t think a cute shortcut is coming to speed things along. It’s okay. I have time.

A Bad Review, a Glimmer of Faith, Part One

 

On my Feeld profile, it says I’m looking for “Boyfriend Material and/or Good Boys to tie up.” I’m wondering if I should get rid of the latter part, dispense with the “and/or” and let go of the hope that any more meaningful “Ma’am” experiences are coming my way. I feel demoralized and SO tired of dating—I’m wondering if the apps are maybe too harsh for me, if I even know what people mean when they say “connection.” Some of this is just..winter, but some of it is last week’s adventure with Entitled Guy.

He started out with a sweet curiosity that reminded me of 2022’s Good Boy—plus he’s a little older, 33 to TGB’s 27, that seemed good! He started out as kind and thoughtful. We talked about books! He’s really into brain books! So am I!

I don’t usually sext before I meet someone in person, but I was feeling cozy and adventurous last Tuesday night so I asked if he would like to tell me what he would do if he was over. Tuesday is one of my loooong workdays, so I microdose THC when I get home. I was open and wet and tired and game.

He wrote back! With voice memos! In a sweet, careful voice, he told me very respectfully (Maybe even a little too respectfully) all the things he would like to do to me. It was meticulous and detail-oriented—I was impressed that he could just TALK OUT such lovely smut! His story made me so swoony that I couldn’t find words! I told him that and he sent! More voice memos! With more kindly details, gently working his way to a more explicit but still very respectful story.

He asked if we could Facetime, and I said that I didn’t want to, but he could send me a video if he’d like. Sometimes guys think you’re a catfish if you don’t Facetime-on-demand, so I made him a cute video with angles I liked, just me saying hi in my pajamas, nothing naked yet.

He sent me a video I LOVED, playing with his gorgeous dick, but also sent a text pushing for Facetime again.

“On FT you would get my face AND my toy.”

(Is this really a selling point? The face part, yes, but did I need to see his Fleshlight or whatever?)

When he tried to push past my first Facetime no, I should have cut off the conversation, but instead, I typed back, “I really don’t want to Facetime, but your dick is so beautiful!”

And I made him a playing-with-boobs video that I liked a lot. I felt like I was being so generous and fun! He was calling me “Ma’am” over text and seemed to be having a LOVELY time!

When we were done, I sent a voice memo praising him for making me feel 

Sudden Hotel Date Part Two

 

As I left my lucky parking space and set off toward the hotel, I felt off balance. I should have probably turned around and gone home. Even though I was in the gridded middle of the city, I got turned around and blew a few blocks off course like a leaf.

When I walked into the hotel lobby, it seemed entirely fictional, a piped-in version of artsy, like a set on some tech-bro sitcom. There he was in the middle of all the primary colors and fake Lichtenstein vibes, wearing something like a Captain America t-shirt. Definitely cute—Black, bespectacled, with that adorable combination of sculpted arms and soft tummy.

I complimented his butt on the way to the elevator, and he made an extremely dreary remark about parental weight gain. His daughter was twelve.

“That door’s mine, and so is this one!” He said proudly, ushering me into his suite. It was...two rooms.

Okay, I am Toxic Romcom Girl. When he’d enticed me with his “upgraded suite,” I pictured fluffy robes, snacks, okay yes I may have pictured some champagne. I wanted to be spoiled. It was shallow and silly but I kinda stand by it.

But! The bed was big and the pillows were many. The guy was cute. I took off my work clothes, brazenly walking around in my workday, go-all-the-way up undies and comfy utilitarian mint green bra. I pulled the blue-rose bobby pins out of my hair and put them in the pencil case I’d pulled out of my work backpack and drafted as a purse.

I snuggled in with him among the pillows. Theres such a well-being that settles through me when cuddling a stranger. As he drifted between chitchat and sleep, I loved the intimacy of hearing him snore. I had a pleasant daydream about all the lone travellers who must be occupying the downtown hotels. I could make it my literal business to snuggle them all! If I weren’t already working four part-time jobs, Snuggler of Strangers would be a great side-hustle.

Chitchat-wise, he wasn’t the romantic free spirit his profile promised. (Who among us is?!) He was a pretty-recently-divorced guy who was irritated by the return of condoms to his life. I was really glad I wasn’t there to have sex. May I live a thousand lifetimes before I have to listen to any more dudes gripe about condoms in a post-Roe world. Fuck that all the way to heck.

“Uh,” I said, struggling to keep the pillow chat light. “You’re old enough to remember the Nineties. We’re all just out here trying to not DIE.”

That terribleness aside, I still felt safe and cozy next to him, so I asked for spanks. He’d described himself as a “pleasure Dom,” but I felt a not-unpleasant sadistic sting and said so. I thought we were bantering, but his tone shifted abruptly.

“I want to touch you, but you don’t want to touch me.” It was so out of left field that I felt like he was saying it to somebody in his past, with me as a proxy. (I have 100% done this to people!)

Yikes though. The whiny, entitled tone drove home the point—To him I wasn’t a potential friend or a comet prospect, I was the human equivalent of a Doordash meal.

 “I don’t like this.” I said. I hopped out of bed and started getting dressed. I gathered my things carefully, stopping to pee before the drive home.

I have lots of thoughts about the transactional parts of dating, the constant risk that I might be a fantasy or an opportunity without being seen and treated like a whole human. The following week, a text flirtation went south in a similarly entitled way.

Dating makes me sad sometimes. A few paragraphs ago, I was daydreaming about snuggling all the lonelyhearts in the downtown hotels, but I’m the loneliest lonelyheart of all. I want kindness. I want to make friends with someone cute and get to know each other and snuggle forever. Sudden hotel dates are probably not the way to accomplish this, but who knows?

Sudden Hotel Date, Part One

 

Sometimes an adventure, in retrospect, can seem like pure acting out. Summer Therapist would say “Act in, not out,” and that is absolutely right, but sometimes, I guess, I just need to take a leap, throw a tantrum, make a questionable choice I’ll probably live through. That’s how Sudden Hotel Date seems, or maybe it was just curiosity or too much time thinking about math for work. Maybe I wasn’t ready to face the sweet sincerity of my date with GWBS the night before. Or maybe it’s just what happened.

Sudden Hotel Date matched on Bumble and Feeld at once, which seemed like fate at the time but now seems just like: He got into town and he’s whatever the algorithms see as my type. He was visiting from a not-too-far away city, and his profile was written so romantically that it seemed like I really should meet him. Like me, he seemed to be looking for slutty romance, a partner in crime. More intriguing, he felt in his early banter like he wanted to be my friend!

Rainbow Pal has a comet these days and they’ve been having so much fun, why shouldn’t I try it?

It was a loooonnnnnggg workday so I was really just looking forward to doing the dishes and going right to bed. And oh yeah, it was trash night.

Sudden Hotel Date was only in town for a few days. I initially declined to meet up because I really needed time to introvert after my lovely time with GWBT. But when SHD said “Just come hang out with me in my upgraded suite,” my seen-too-many-movies brain took him up on it.

Is “upgraded suite” an insufferable phrase? Yes.

It didn’t matter that I was tired or that I would be showing up in my work clothes, my workaday undies not meant to be seen.

Well, it didn’t matter to me that I was tired. I pictured making friends among abundant hotel pillows, drifting off, maybe making out a little. Maybe I would drive home in the morning, dreamy and happy.

I sounds bananas, but he really made it sound like he wanted to make friends. I thought I was being banter-y and cute about my tiredness, but it made him change his tune:

“Well if you’re just gonna fall asleep we could reschedule. I’m in town til Thursday morning.”

But Wednesday night was scheduled to be grocery night with BFF, and besides, I was already downtown! I’d even found a nice parking space that didn’t cost a jillion dollars! I paid the meter and went to meet him.

Guy With the Big Telescope Returns, Part Two

Before I get into the cuteness of Monday-before-last, I have to spoil the ending! This past Wednesday, we had our third date. We were having Indian food at my favorite place. It was a beautiful, mostly-clear night with a big moon, so I asked if we could go star gazing after dinner, and he said yes! How romantic! Except!

GWBT had listed himself as 37 on Feeld, but his pop-culture references and song choices placed him closer to my age. When he mentioned his brother being really into the G.I. Joe cartoon, I had to ask, how old are you anyway? He admitted that he’d written 37 on his profile because that’s the age he “seems” to people. He’s really a year older than me, 50, which, hooray! If he hadn’t been lying before!

So that topic hijacked dinner, and I was so turned off by the lie that I broke things off. I was really sad to miss our stargazing night, but how could I trust someone with my body and heart if he could lie so easily?

I uncharmingly offered him unsolicited advice as we said goodbye: “Next time, let the person see your whole, real self.” I feel so much compassion and hope for him, and I wish him nothing but happiness and honest snuggles.

NOW! Back to the second-date cuteness! Back to the neverending puzzle.

After a good while of puzzling, I was like, okay, five more pieces and then I’m gonna tie you up. We found those five pieces pretty quickly! I told him to stand up and take off his shirt. Pants too!

I didn’t have a particular harness in mind, I just knew I wanted to make him something special. I started with the dark purple ropes, square-knotting two 30-foot strands together. The ropes really, REALLY liked him. I made nameless knots across his chest, so pretty they almost looked like rosettes. I felt such a flow with this guy! I tuned out of self-consciousness and into the Muse. I took my time and made him into the treasure he deserves to be.

When I was done tying, I had him lay on his front so I could admire the view. His ass was wrapped up like a present, and there was a beautiful shiny magenta rope at his waist. Beautiful. How did I get so lucky?

When I climbed into be next to him, he treated me with worshipful generosity. Uncovering my nipples to suck. Pulling aside my lavender lace panties to tongue my clit. His tongue was as spindly as he, long and quick and ever-exploring.

I’m not usually that excited t be gone down on, but this…I could have stayed there legs open for hours.

 

Guy With the Big Telescope Returns, Part One

Are sequels a bad habit? Maybe! But I haven’t regretted one yet! When I rematched with GWBT (He’d added Feeld to his searchings.) I got a good feeling.

On the first date (https://kittencalendar.blogspot.com/2023/06/new-guys-old-triggers-real-dating-break.html) way back in May when the voice of heartbreak was louder than it is now, I decided we weren’t a match for one reason: He shushed me! In Emotionally Neutral Diner! Which, maybe, isn’t so emotionally neutral! It seemed like it would be a mistake to kiss someone who’d shushed me, so I didn’t.

But in the half-block between the diner and my car, we held hands. Here in September, I remembered vividly and with my whole body how good the handholding had been. And I remembered how he’d tried to send me home with lunch just in case my brunch French toast hadn’t been filling enough. I remembered the telescope I had yet to peer through. I wondered if he still had a tape deck in his car.

The pictures on his Feeld page were almost all on the beach and I felt a little pang for having missed my chance for summer beach drives with him.

My body wanted to see him again, to see what his kiss would be like, to let myself relax into him, somehow I knew I could. He offered to help me with my puzzle, still the endless, too-big-for-the-table 2000-piece one, and I thought that was very brave and kind.

He brought dinner, so much dinner. He asked if I wanted Jamaican food and I said sure, I’ll eat a meat pie. Instead, he brought heavy platters, oxtail and jerk chicken and fried plantains and rice. I’m so bad at flavors, but I tried everything.

He was hesitant to share his music collection with me on a second date, too eclectic, he kept saying. But he lost a bet (I knew I wouldn’t like plantains) and I got to hear it! His music just…lives in his phone?! No Spotify or anything. It turned out the be the perfect puzzling soundtrack: Classic techno gay bar tracks. Opera. Metallica. A pop song selection maybe more unhinged than my own.

About the puzzle, he kept wondering aloud: “There must be some kind of a system we could use to make this easier…”

I guess maybe sorting the colors into boxes is kind of a system?

I liked feeling his leg against mine under the puzzle table. I was suddenly entirely wet, way more turned on than one might expect to be under such wholesome circumstances, and with such a soundtrack!

When he found a piece that fit, or maybe the fourth or fifth time he found one, I said, dorkily, “Now you get rewarded with a smooch.”

It was a good one. Well worth the wait.

Dear Ribbons: Does Jealousy Mean I Have to Give Up This Hottie?!

 

Would you like some advice and praise? Write in please! Tell your story at thekittencalendar.blogspot.com and put “Dear Ribbons” in the subject line!

Dear Ribbons,

What do I do about jealousy? My newish play partner is a total hottie. Half of me is genuinely happy for them and just feels like they should have everything they want in this life and just have people tell them they’re cute all day, and half of me is like oh my god, they really do have so many lovers. And I know if I continue down the casual sex road, many people I sleep with are gonna 100% be sleeping with other people.

Do I have to give up my popular hottie?

Love,

Aspiring Compersionist

Dear Aspiring,

First, the bad news: jealousy isn’t just for casual cuties! It crops up in all relationships! Just like all the other emotions, we have to learn to welcome and listen to jealousy, because fighting it and trying to get rid of it will only make it stronger. I am so bad at this! Some of the relationship moments I’m most ashamed of have come from jealousy, but I think I’m getting better with time and practice—you can too!

Let’s open up The Artist’s Way and remind ourselves what Julia Cameron has to say:

 

I’ve carried the phrase “Jealousy is a map” with me for twenty years, but that last line is hitting home in a new way this morning! “When you learn to harness its fierce energy on your behalf, jealousy is part of the fuel toward a greener and more verdant future.”

I think that’s so true! Though I will forever relish being petty about Mrs. Shy One’s 475,000 year birthday week, I have to admit it inspired me to expand my own! For almost a month, I celebrated in new and old ways, making quality time with old friends, new friends, and one only-around-for-a-week-but-very-charming-and-beautiful-friend! Jealousy map for the win!

But come on, let’s be honest, jealousy fucking SUCKS! I don’t understand why it make me feel like I’m gonna DIE sometimes! It seems really maladaptive for jealousy to inspire such fight or flight when there’s no real danger!

But sometimes, too, when there is real danger! I can think of at least one time when jealous flight tried to save me from a WHOLE lot of horror. How can we even tell the difference!?

This is all complicated by the fact that, I think, the poly community has a tendency towards emotional perfectionism. I think we like to see ourselves as constantly benevolent, generous, and communal, somehow above the less-cute human relationship pitfalls. As much as we give lip-service to “processing” jealousy, I think it’s way easier sometimes to perform uncomplicated compersion, even to the point of self-erasure.

So here’s the frame I think would work best, Aspiring:

1.     Jealousy can help us articulate desires we may not have even known existed! Yay!

2.     Jealousy feels terrible. It feels bad to feel it! Yuck!

3.     Jealousy can sometimes guide us away from situations where a potential partner doesn’t have the time or bandwidth we need. But it doesn’t necessarily mean that! Take your time, follow your intuition, use your judgement.

4.     Find partners who are open to talking about jealousy! In fact, let’s all talk about it more! I would love to learn to view jealousy not as a failure or a taboo, but as a natural part of connection.

I hate to keep coming back to The Guest House, but make jealousy some tea and let it in. It’s exhausting to keep trying to hold the door closed.

Expansively,

Pretty Ribbons

The Kindest Hookup, Part Two

 

Since I’ve been officially looking for Boyfriend Material, I’ve wondered on and off if I should give up the more casual kink connections. Conventional wisdom, aka my Inner Patriarchy, tells me that I only should be going on Serious Dates with Serious Relationship Potential, but that seems kinda high-pressure! I think I can find true love again while slutting it up, especially since internal happiness feels key to finding the right folks.

Plus, ahhhhhhhh…service. It’s so magical when I get to play as a service top! The world is so harsh to all of us, I love giving someone cute a soft place to be for a while, a chance to feel special and cared for, to rest in pleasure and be wholly celebrated. I deserve that for myself too! There’s so much power in bringing a sweet stranger kindness and joy, it’s one of the best parts of adventuring.

I’m so grateful to The Boy Who Brought Flowers for helping me touch base with the benevolent power of Ma’am-ness!

“Meet you upstairs,” he said, as soon as I released him from our taking-it-something-like-slow makeout time on the couch. He bounded upstairs, eager to do a good job.

We were listening to my Liked Songs because none of my other playlists were feeling quite right. I’d asked him if he had a playlist to share, but he said something really sweet like “No, I want to be in your world.” A lot can go wrong with a playlist that’s not really a playlist, but I gave him the power to skip anytime! He never used it.

I had him strip to his briefs before I gave him the gentle ribcage harness. He’d mentioned that he wanted to be restrained, wanted to be swept away.

Side note: Are people sometimes using kink to dissociate? To be jarred all the way out of themselves and be ready for whatever self comes next? I know I’ve subbed that way, especially during those hard, hard divorce times! But I am not that Ma’am!

I wanted us present and slow. I held him close each time I reached around to cross the ropes at his back. I breathed him in, the smells of sweat and soap and, very faintly, of cannabis. His shoulders and back and arms were sculpted with care, and there was something dear about that, something vulnerable. His body reminded me of the motivational books he was reading—every part of him wanted to do what he saw as a good job, every sinew reaching out for approval and praise. I was so happy to give it!

The effort of being a person, any person, is such a heavy lift. This ambitious, aspiration-filled young man deserved a moment to just be.

Like the Thoughtful Guy said a few weeks before: “Just lay here and be you.” I hope my Flower Boy felt that peace. I hope we all do, as often as possible.

As he stood over me, I wound the purple ropes between his legs, echoing the knots and loops of the harness above. His dick was fat and joyful beneath his grey briefs, beneath my pulling and adjusting and re-adjusting. Each time I grazed it lovingly, sparks of happiness sparkled in my fingertips and all through my body. I hope he felt sparkly too!

The Kindest Hookup, Part One

 

This story starts with a trigger warning, but not about the date!

Last Tuesday was my birthday. In the course of checking in with loved ones, I found out that someone close to me had had The Bad Thing happen to her on a date over the summer. I was glad she trusted me enough to tell me, and she seemed like she was doing okay, considering. But I was devastated and wondered if I needed to cancel my Wednesday night date! It seemed unfair to have any kind of body fun in the same world where a loved one had been so harmed.

But I knew it wasn’t bodies’ fault, and I was reasonably sure this guy was good and safe. He’s 27, so I figured he had matched with me purely for curiosity/millennials-have-a-mature-fetish reasons, but he seemed genuinely interested in me as a person. We talked about books and he’s reading The Sum of Us. One of my all-time favorites! We exchanged Spotify links and he picked two favorites from my Virgo Season mix: Good Riddance (see above) and Always Something There to Remind Me.

And he was calling me Ma’am! And being so kind and respectful! His smile was radiant and, in mostly chaste pictures, the rest of him was beautiful. I was touched by his attentiveness and turned on by his beauty and bravery. The energy emerging between us reminded me of The Good Boy from 2022—warm, avid, and Mine.

When he asked if there was anything he needed to do for the date, I said “Bring flowers.” Ma’am life is so good, especially during my birthday week!

He came up my driveway with two long bunches of flowers (pink alstroemeria and purple something-like-delphiniums) and a birthday card with no envelope. He looked so happy and hopeful and ready for praise—deeply adorable. We walked arm-in-arm up the driveway to my door, and went in.

He’d wanted me to sweep him in the door and take charge right way, and I don’t think I did it the way he’d pictured! I told him to have a seat while I put the flowers in some water. When I joined him on the couch, he said eagerly “What do you want me to do?”

“Let’s just sit here and be people”

So we talked about shows. I inexpertly summarized the plot of Yellowjackets and rhapsodized about how it’s almost Gilmore Girls time. (The twenty-first night of September!) He mentioned loving Rick and Morty and old seasons of South Park and I put those upsetting choices in his file but didn’t hold them against him. I wanted to hold myself against him!

We were in the middle of a (Try not to think about the end of the world!) heatwave so everything was warmth on warmth on warmth. He kissed me in the middle of our TV conversation and it sent flutters up through me—just right. An of course whispered through my body. I have been truly blessed with the good kissers lately. If I believed in Karma, I would think I was being very, very rewarded for some good deed I can’t quite think of.

“What do you want me to do now?” He asked again. Look up “topping from the bottom” in the dictionary and there’s his beautiful smiling face!

“Five more minutes,” I said, and we stayed there on the couch, chatting and kissing.

Frilly Friday: Ribcage Harness

 

I'm really missing The Boy Who Brought Flowers, even though we only chatted for a week! Many happy paragraphs to come! 

In the meantime, I'm really grateful that he inspired me to pick up the ropes again, and I think this is just so cute!

Knotty Thursday: I Think It's Past Ghost O'Clock Buuut...

 

I wanted this treasure to be my Wednesday guy, (He clearly wasn't available for boyfriending) and he seemed amenable to that last night, but shrug emoji! My Inner Patriarchy is making me feel ashamed for having semi-accidentally had a hookup, but I'm sure once the disappointment wears off, I be glad he was at least *A* Wednesday guy!

Plus! I asked him to bring me flowers and he did! That gives me all the Ma'am feelings and all the hopeful feelings.

These ties would be prettier if they were tighter, I wanted to be very gentle on a first night! I'm happy to be reunited with my ropes, and hoping the Thursdays will stay knotty! Wish me luck! 

Dear Ribbons: Is a "Hoe Phase" Worth the Risk?

 

I feel like The Guest House might be annoying advice to get, but it's maybe the best advice ever.

Would you like some advice and praise? Write in please! Tell your story at thekittencalendar.blogspot.com and put “Dear Ribbons” in the subject line!

Dear Ms. Ribbons,

I met someone and we had passionate, awesome sex. I was really affected by it. We talked about intense things and really connected. I was with them nearly all day both times we were together. Overall it was a very intense experience for me even though it was theoretically casual.

 

I feel like emotionally and physically it’s taken a full week to recover from seeing them. I’ve been unable to work much or focus or maintain any conversations not about this person for days. 

 

I feel at a crossroads. Personally I want to have a hoe phase and I’m definitely attracted to a lot of people, and my desire is pretty ferocious and I feel pretty desperate to get out there and explore. I feel like my need to be with more people and try things is at the center of my life rn.

 

 But I don’t know if I can do what just happened over again. If it’s going to feel like that every time to have great sex it might be too much. I’m especially worried about exploring kink and the kinds of sex that are likely to be especially vulnerable and have lots of emotional feedback.

 

I’m also kind of confused about how to take this hookup that just happened and wondering if it means something that it hit me so hard.

 

Is casual sex not for me? What can I do to stop the pleasurable part of my life from overtaking the other things in my life that are important to me? What’s a kind of jealous and sensitive person who doesn’t want to use that stuff as a crutch to do lol

 

Curiously,

 

Twitterpated

 

Dear Twitterpated,

 

Thank you so much for writing to me! I’m so honored to be a part of this profound thing that happened to you!

 

First, in the spirit of Judge Chutkin, let’s take the temperature down a little. Not on the lovey-dovey emotions! Let’s keep those ablaze. The thing you’re feeling is, I think, one of the main reasons we’re here on this cool planet.

 

But please talk to your self-judgement and ask it to simmer down a bunch! Let’s do that old therapy trick of—what if this were happening to a friend? If one of your besties came to you distracted, confused, besotted, you’d greet them with curiosity and joy. You wouldn’t rush them to define things, urge them to be sensible, remind them of their other priorities.  If this were happening to a friend, you would just be with them where they are. See if you can give yourself a little bit of that friendly grace.

 

There are no prerequisites for a “hoe phase.” By all means, just have it!!!!! You absolutely do not have to meet some imaginary standard of casualness to slut it up! Plenty of people will be as hot for your romantic nature as they are for all of your other very hot qualities!

 

And, you can take all the time you need to absorb the beauty, pleasure, synchronicity, and meaning of passionate awesome sex with this very special human! You don’t need any permission, label, or ticket to the Relationship Escalator in order for this experience to mean a lot to you—it just DOES!

 

Give yourself space for this. It’s so big!

 

I for one CANNOT understand people who breeze through sex and love and kink like it’s no big deal! It’s a big fucking deal! Our bodies are there! With our hearts, minds, and souls! Do anything you want to in order to internalize and honor this ordinary miracle that happened to you! That you helped create!

 

Please try not to worry about being too jealous, too sensitive, too ANYTHING. Let yourself experience this moment as EXACTLY YOU.

 

I can’t tell you what to do about the current person except this: Talk to them. See how they feel and feel how you feel. You might like to swirl around in these lovely emotions for a while! Or you might let them go and look for someone(s) even more right for you.

 

I trust you with this precious thing, your precious heart! I promise, you’ll know what to do.

 

Your comrade in twitterpation,

 Pretty Ribbons

A Tender Date, A Little Ghosting, Part Two

 

Rainbow Pal and I have decided that all weird dating things require a romantic French term!

There was a moment. I was toying with Thoughtful Guy’s dick through his underwear, just kind of nuzzling around down there, when he placed his arms around my shoulders in a soft embrace. A breeze of kindness blew all through me, an almost supernatural affection. Stillness. Peace.

He couldn’t stay late, he had to get home to his kiddo. As he started to get dressed, I wrapped up in my aqua-blue summer robe, feeling flushed and decadent and beautiful. “You look so good,” he said, with a little growl in his voice. He backed me up against the pillar on the pony wall of my loft, and kissed and kissed and kissed me.

He picked up his phone and said absently “Annnddd one of my partners is texting about making a date…” then went back to kissing me. When I finally, reluctantly got him out the door, I felt happy and hopeful, like my life might actually make sense! I’ll never stop believing in that feeling.

The next day, instead of feeling lonely and insecure, I felt grounded in my own life, sure I was cared for. But when I told him as much, he abruptly cut off the conversation and said he didn’t want to be keeping me up. I was up! I was working on my 2000-piece puzzle! It’s an intricate undersea scene! It was only like 10.

Oh, the little ghosting. When I texted in the morning to start planning our next date, his tone had changed. He said laughing emoji to the time I suggested, not whether it was too late or too early. He suggested a better night for our date, and I said sure. Then he left me on heart-reaction and disappeared.

By the time it was ten again, I hadn’t heard from him all day, and plans hung in the thread unfinished. The internet, always the most toxic, let me know he’d had time to change to an even-sexier profile picture while he was busy not texting me.

So I texted to suggest that we might not be a good match because our rhythms were off. I didn’t want to say goodbye, but I hate le petite fantôme. You liked me the day before yesterday, I wanted to say, then radio silence.

He texted back ALL the paragraphs (OH, the self-justifying man-paragraphs of polyamory. May I never again read them.) including “Do you know your attachment style? You seem insecure.”

First of all, I find attachment theory to be the most unhelpful therapy thing of all time, like oh, you weren’t loved properly as a baby and now you’re fucked up forever. What is anybody supposed to DO with this?!

I mean, misnamed Thoughtful Guy was probably right, but you don’t get to psychoanalyze me after ONE date, if ever! And you don’t get to make it my deep personal flaw when you mini-ghost instead of finishing a conversation.

I’m grateful to Summer Therapist and a lifetime of self esteem work that I got mad instead of accepting his assessment of me, instead of accommodating and building something new and cute and misery-making.

It was a fantasy that he could be boyfriend material while already having five partners. Like, who do I think I am, hoping that I wouldn’t slip his mind among all that beauty and tumult and day-to-day? Like so many precious darlings before him, he just wasn’t the right match. I miss him, but onward.