Knotty Thursday: We're Not Helpless

 Last night, my church held a vigil for all those killed by ICE. About a hundred people came. The songs were my love-and-light favorites, and I found ways to sing while crying. We all did. It was helpful to just sit there and watch the candles burn, let my heart just go ahead and break for a while. Grief is healthy and warm when it gets to live, gets to be heard. The candles eventually became a small fire in a dish, and we let it burn.

Someone had 3-D printed whistles and strung them on cords, as talisman, the pastor said. There were little pamphlets about how to use your whistle when ICE comes. For us, it's not if, it's when. I already have my whistle, but I hung some in a beloved tree as hopefully helpful street art.

So as your good sweet Ma'am, I have directions for you: Find a whistle and learn how to use it. Call your representatives and tell them how you feel about state-sponsored murder: Bad I hope! Tell them to defund ICE. Tell them anything and everything that's bothering your heart. You can write if you don't want to call, but tell them.

I love you all a bunch, my dears. Do this and I'll send you all the praise, just like I always do. 

A Helpful Mini-Adventure With a Lovely King

 

Last week, when I was deep in my angst about neighbor stuff, a very handsome and distinguished gentleman pinged my Feeld. He said he's a dom and would love to try for a rope thing with me! I fought the OCD that was telling me to NEVER LIKE ANYONE AGAIN and said hello. I'm so glad I did.

On the phone, there was instant chemistry, instant brainstorming of scenes. He called me his princess, he called me a Good Girl, and most importantly, he told me he thinks I have more agency than I think I have. Since I frequently feel helpless about compulsions and fate, agency lit a spark in my mind that's been lighting my way these snowy, sleepy days.

From the moment I took TGNS's hand and placed it on my head, my submissive side has been guiding me, and Lovely King felt like an extension of that energy that kindled in me back on Leftovers Night. Like a bright thread I can follow, telling me to bow down and recognize the vastness.

Lovely King and I planned a date, but it was a little further out than I would've liked. I asked him if he would help with my Bowing Down to Love Itself project, and he agreed. Each day after I got in my cozy floor-nest and did my Child's Pose with a hand on the back of my head, after I relaxed in the vastness of love and the stretches in my body, I'd text the Lovely King and tell him I'd submitted to love, tell him how I was feeling. Sent pretty pictures sometimes.

He responded each time with a "good girl" and was very dutiful with the "good mornings," though not with the goodnights. I knew he was only beginning his adventures, and we were only beginning ours, but without much friendly chitchat between praises, the situation started to feel cold.

Friends!! I told him how I was feeling! Without fleeing or panicking! Huzzah! I said I liked more chattiness from a potential dom, and I while I like sharing, I don't like the feeling of being one of many.

He confirmed the one-of-manyness and said he didn't have bandwidth for what I need, but wanted to keep in touch! Which was so nice! But not the right way to go. I am so, SO proud of myself for making this choice! For making choices like a person who believes in love. 

Self-respect is HARD y'all. But practicing submission by bowing down to Love Itself feels like something nobody else should be walking me through. It's a project to do with my own hurt and hopeful heart, with quiet and candles, Girl Scout cookies and nice lotions and all this miraculous snowday free time.

Love has me. It has scooped me up like my own personal Totoro. It's hard to keep that faith, but I can keep the ritual. That's enough for now.

Two Things About Christmas Scrabble

 

For the most part, I'm not pining. I'm looking forward to turning the entire apartment into a nest for the coming snowstorm, feeling cozy and self-contained.

But taking down the Christmas tree the other night had me close to panic. The lights were on there so tightly and so tangled that I had to cut off some of the branches to get the lights off. It made me feel trapped, nauseous, and scared, like I was the one bound and tangled up, absolutely NOT in a good way. 

Even after I had the lights off the tree, I considered just throwing them out because they were SO hard to untangle. I got them apart and put away, not as neatly as I would've liked, but they're out of sight.

I felt a lot of anger and fear during all that untangling, but I also felt just good old fashioned love and grief. I've been having the nicest time flirting with new folks and going to the correct door, but I still have to acknowledge that Christmas with TGNS was a big deal.

So, two things:

***He spelled the word "Wholes" during Scrabble and that's what I felt like we were, just for that moment. Wholes is what you have to both be to have the kinds of relationships I want to have, and we weren't that. But just for a little while, a few sparks of time, we were Wholes.

***He and I sang together. The best part of King of Carrot Flowers: "Than he could dare to tryyyy, ah ah ah ay ay, ah ah ah ay ay." We sang it together and it was so beautiful. Our voices matched and our souls chimed. I loved the moments when I could let down my guard and sing in front of him, and I think he liked those times too.

Of course then Latto's Big Energy came on and made me sheepish, made me hope nobody was paying as much attention to the words as I always do.

Knotty Thursday: Simple Gauntlets and Bowing Down to Love

 

Good morning dears! So for the past few weeks, I've been in a battle with love. I've been doubling down on all the self-care, which is good, but it's gotten so my head feels like a tangle of Twelve Step rules and others' opinions and especially my own impatience. Why can't I be over this heartbreak already? Why can't I just feel gratitude for the good parts of The Guy Next Door adventure, wish him well, and be healed?! 

Because love is big. And ineffable. And important to me, which means OCD wants to rip every memory of it to shreds. I've been trying to feel armored against it so I don't accidentally respond to an eye-twinkle in the driveway, so I can HURRY UP AND ACCEPT THINGS AS THEY ARE, god dammit.

But I don't want to treat love like that! I don't want to treat ME like that anymore. So when a darling potential dom asked me how I could practice submission on my own, like I practice ropes on my own, I decided to start a new ritual:

Every day, at the end of the day, I'm going to get into Child's Pose and bow down to love. Not any one person (or flower, or bird, or color) but the entire concept of love. The universal source that drives me, tends me, and occasionally puts a metaphorical hand on my head.

Rope night was the perfect night to try it. After I put lofi on, put on some rose-scented lotion, and wrapped up my arms, I put a shiny sheet and a few pink Squishmallows (Archie and Laura) on the floor next to the bed, and got down to it.

And it worked! Not the overpowering WHOOSH of submission to a person, but something more cozy and less fraught. Attachment and detachment at the same time. A blessedly quiet mind. I felt faith enter my heart like it was coming home after a long trip. And it was!

Yelling at my heart to hurry up and get better was not working, and it was pretty cruel of me. My aim now is to treat myself like a little kid who has had a big disappointment, but also has a lot of scaffolding and hope. That little time to rest in love made a difference, and I'm excited to let it take the wheel for a while while I rest and heal and probably watch a fair amount of Bluey.

Thank you for being with me on this journey, dear readers. I woke up so grateful.

Calling Out to Myself: A Solo Adventure

One of my Codependents Anonymous friends suggested this and I love it so much. It's hard and takes discipline to love myself instead of focusing on what's lost, but every once in a while I can feel it pay off in progress and peace.

 Last week was a week of continued self care and good decisions, including an inbox abundant with dick pics (One million heart-eyes emojis) and fantasy flirting with all kinds of beautiful dears. None of them ended up suitable for in-person-I'm (mostly) actively trying to avoid any more fuckboys or overly complicated situations, but they were all dear, and they all made me feel glowy and flowy.

So Saturday afternoon, with nothing on the schedule til dancing o' clock, I took myself to bed. Pleasure felt a little out of reach at first, what with intrusive thoughts about how much more desirable Yoga Camp Hottie is than me. Plus, my Rabbit conked out a while back and I'm still getting used to (getting friendly with) my new one.

But I told YCH and her boyfriend to fuck off out of my brain for a while, and got myself to the pink sparkly glowy haze eventually.

And! When I was coming! I cried out:

"I love you! I love you! Oh! I love you!

That's happened with partners before, of course (Especially The Shy One, oh boy!) but I don't usually form ANY words while I'm getting myself off, let alone THOSE words.

It felt like such a release! Like those words had been waiting on my tongue to be hollered out, waiting maybe for a lifetime.

And yes, I was probably saying it to past and recent loves, to the gods and goddesses, to the sky and the trees and the flowers, but the important thing is! I was saying it, sighing it, to me! Oh my goodness!

Sometimes the feeling of having to love myself feels frustrating and lonely, but on good days, it makes me feel treasured, important, chosen. All those things I'm absolutely desperate to get from men, that keep me away from the men probably, I'm able to give myself. It was real. I heard myself breathe out the words in pleasure.

I love you.

Typing that gave me a warmth that started in my belly/soul and spread outwards. Maybe someday a partner will meet me in this place of self-love, but for now I'm happy and curious to practice on my own. Just like I practice my ropes! :)

Catsitting Was Service and It Felt Good.

 While I care for myself and keep not knocking on his door, some of the things I felt during my near-romance with The Guy Next Door deserve attention. I feel like the memories don't quite belong to me yet, like I'm still waiting for him to sign off on them by liking me back, which he doesn't. But it was still real.

On Christmas leftovers night, when he was "ready to try snuggling," I took his hand and placed it on top of my head. I expected it to feel comforting, of course, but I didn't expect to fall down a very cozy well of subbiness! I felt the switch flip and he became Him.

In Codependents Anonymous, we are definitely not supposed to let other people be our Higher Power. That's supposed to be benevolent but big and all-encompassing and largely unknowable. This feeling might have been that, but it was also the opposite- play! A role I haven't played in such a long time, and suddenly there I was. Little. Cared for. Humble. Chosen.

So when he asked me to watch Cat Next Door while he was away for New Years, it didn't feel like it sometimes feels now, like he was having his to-him-unfuckable friend watch his place while he was out of town seeing Yoga Camp Hottie. That was what was happening, but it didn't feel bad at all! Most of the week!

I said I'd be honored to watch his place, and I meant it.

The first time I went over, Cat Next Door was relaxing on TGNS's bed. The bed was spare and the bedding white, very yoga camp. I sat on the floor next to the bed to pet the cat and felt woozy with love. I wanted to crawl into bed with the cat and cuddle, but that felt like a creepy thing for a catsitting neighbor to do. He later said it would've been fine, but then, he later said a lot of things.

Every moment, crushing Cat Next Door's meds into his tuna breakfast and supper, washing the plates and spoons, just sitting in TGNS's chair keeping the cat company while read my audiobook and inhaled the scent of man and sandalwood, it all felt like I was honored to serve him. I'm sure that was not his intention at all, but that's what happened.

I looked at my art and Tarot cards front and center on his fridge door, and I felt he's mine and I'm his. When I left the porch light on for myself and locked the door for the night, I felt in my place. Where I belonged.

Submissive or no, I don't do neighbor-favors half-assed, so though he'd told me I didn't have to scoop the litterbox, I sure did! Kneeling in front of it doing objectively the worst chore, I felt peaceful, seen. Even though it was SO STINKY! 

He's an old cat who misses a lot and there was a pink towel in front of the litterbox that got soaked with pee by the end of the week. I took it home and washed it with a heart full of love and hope.

I'd told him I was having subby feelings after our first cuddle, but I don't think he ever really got how badly I wanted to serve him.

I'm telling you this to honor my submissive self- it was so lovely to see her. I hope she'll be around again soon, in much happier and healthier circumstances. It just felt so good.

Untangling Thursday: Grief and Slutty Joy

 

Next week I hope to be back to my ropes routine, but I really like this picture and what it means! A horny surge of health!

Every once in a while, I get in a real Downton Abbey place, like, if I can be chaste and proper enough, this will work out. Maybe it's a fetish, or maybe it's just a tendency to ignore and deny the forward motion of my heart. To discount desire in favor of some lofty thing somebody else likes. No matter why, it takes me to a place of deep self loathing, of too much. Honestly after the tangle with The Guy Next Door, I thought my unfuckability was etched in stone.

But it turns out, when I'm not Detective Pikachu-ing a messy boy's mercurial intentions, when I'm alone in my bed with the apps and my camera, desire sparkles in so easily! And the apps did not disappoint, as one guy after another invited himself over, today, soon, right now, "Between 3 and 4:30," and the straightforwardness of being embodied and being wanted made me wet and started the healing.

Of course none of them have been over yet, but one's on the calendar: Video Star. Ohboy I don't know how his big fat perfect dick is even real, but I aim to find out if I can. Last night he sent a video of him soaping up in the shower, sudsing his enormousness with just the most cocky (ha) look on his face. Fucking transcendent. 

He has been rewarded with all kinds of Hidden Folder treats, and I've been brazen enough to send videos too! That's how I found out that my pubic hair is going grey! He still said I had a pretty pussy though, and asked for more.

So, I'm sad without The Guy Next Door. I miss him and I hope, through whatever fog he's in, he misses me too. I've promised several friends I wouldn't loop back, not that he's asking me to. I don't want to ignore myself any more times. I don't ever want to pretend I don't feel what I feel, never not ever again.

It might be a long time until love arrives again, who knows. But joy? Desire? Playfulness? Already here again, thank goodness.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Five: Enough.

There might be lots to worry and wonder about another day, but for now...

I tried so hard to be his friend and he wanted to get to attraction to please me, but I felt love and he felt friendship. I could comb the story for clues and reassurances, but.

We liked being around each other. There was some kind of spark. We had a great date and he didn't want to kiss me.

I could see it as tragic or damning or proof that I'm unkissable, but what happened was just...dating. It hurts worse because we genuinely liked and got to know each other, but still, it's as simple as:

Not a match.

All this week I've been in a hum of self-care, touching base with my friends and my breaths and my Twelve Steps. My OCD quieted almost immediately after we said goodbye.

The Monday after the date, in that doomed and meltdowny but ultimately helpful conversation, I did tell him I love him, and I'm glad. People should know when they're loved. Now, I'm trying my best to love myself.

I feel anger and shame at myself for being so openhearted, but I hope someday I won't. I remember how much I used to value my wholeheartedness, and I would like to value it again. I would like to treat my heart like it's worthy of healthy, happy love. Not like it deserves this:

It's not post-blue-box Mulholland Drive over here, I probably won't be disappeared in a floof of blue smoke. It's just sad. I'm afraid to really grieve because what if the grief is forever? What if I can never get free of the sadness because he is RIGHT THERE all the time? I guess I can't know how long the pain will last, but it's better to feel it than keep hurting myself. Better to cry than to live in a fantasy.

Thanks for reading me through this, friends. I know-

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Four

I kept being surprised at how much time he wanted to spend over here! He came over the night after Christmas for music and leftovers, and it was my favorite night of this whole story.

Because of the Saddest Little Sound in the World, I'd resolved to keep us at the friendly table rather than trying the nebulous-meaninged couch. We had warmed-up turkey and potatoes. We listened to his playlist, which was enough like mine to be good and enough different to breathe new life into the place.

When we got to a welllll what should we do now place, I pulled out the Tarot cards and we played. I pulled out three or four different decks and we read each other the explanations or just made things up. One of the decks came with discussion questions, so the talk got deep. It was this incredibly wholesome feeling of enjoyment and peace and, for me, falling deeper in love.

After that perfect while, he said he would like to try cuddling! So we set up his laptop full of Bob's Burgers-es, dimmed the lights, and approached the couch. It felt awkward, like neither of us had ever cuddled before in our lives! But we figured it out.

I asked if he'd like a regular blanket or a weighted one, and he chose weighted. Settling into his arms felt like a WOOSH of bliss, like a relief, a coming-home. He held my hand in his long and beautiful hand. We both did a lot of sighing.

But also, he talked about Oxytocin, which made me wonder whether I was being a person right now or a drug. Why not both, I guess?

I took his hand and placed it on top of my head, then felt my whole being go quiet. It had been so long since I felt it--submission. The feeling of being precious and small and protected, of being, in my heart at least, adored.

I kept thinking, this is what I pictured when I met him. Just cuddling on the couch watching shows. In the original fantasy, we were watching Twin Peaks, but otherwise, this was exactly what I'd known would happen. I read a thing somewhere that falling in love fast is a sign of emotional intelligence, and that doesn't seem quite right, but the feeling of I just knew was so beautiful. I felt everything fit together in such a profound way. It felt so good I almost needed a break from it, but I didn't take one.

I could have laid like that for a hundred hours, but he was ready to go after a couple of episodes.

"Ahhh human contact," he said as we were hugging goodbye, making me wonder once again whether I was a specific human to him or just a convenient warm body. Thank goodness I didn't say that in the moment!

Knotty Thursday But Vague Tarot

 Yesterday was a beautiful and maybe-too-urgent self-care day. I caught up with friends, took an unseasonably warm sunny walk. I decluttered a couple shelves I've been dying to declutter-very satisfying!

I did put on a simple rope corset over my nightgown last, but I wanted it to be just for me. I sat down and spaced out with the cards a while. It felt a little like being a poet, exploring through without much aim and without really expecting them to tell me anything. Or rather, for me to tell myself anything inspired by the images. 

Temperance keeps coming up, and The Dancer. I've got a couple dance parties on the cal, so that's good.

Not too long after the cards, I got so sick! Don't know if it was a bad gummy or food poisoning or just a catharsis or a hangover from Christmas love/stress or all of those things. Physically I'm doing okay this morning, but lost is the prevailing emotion still.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Three

 Before I leave the cute art night, I just want to remember the feeling of stapling up silk flowers with my sweet doomed crush while he sings "Do you realize?" in the sparkly Christmas Eve night. Two angels doing angel stuff, nothing can change that.

For Christmas, I'd originally invited TGNS to come over after dinner, for Scrabble with me and BFF-Formerly-Sweetie. But he kind of hinted that he wanted to come over earlier, so I invited him for dinner too.

(Things were different between BFF and I, this guy around. She was so cool about including him in Christmas, she was remarkably un-grumbly about him over all, which was new. She was so copacetic about it that it kind of freaked me out, like was she REALLY ready to let me go? That was beautiful but also so sad and scary too! What would our friendship be like if I had another Person around? Would it go away? Would we lose the bond we've built with each other post divorce, just because of some guy? I MAY have cried on the floor about this not too long ago, and I'm glad.)

The Guy Next Door was not on time for dinner, so I went over and got him. He came over like such a good boy all excited because he'd just downloaded a bunch of Bob's Burgers episodes for us to binge after family time was over.

He gave me a card with Monet's Water Lilies that said I was delightful, and that word made me inordinately happy because ever since he'd encouraged me to chat with the delightful Girl Next Door, I wanted to be delightful too. And here I was! I had it in writing.

Scrabble was so fun! BFF had admonished us to at least try to beat her, and we did respectably! 

The warmth and glow of that evening helps me understand what made TGNS want to cling to me, "conventionally attracted" or not. I remember when I was in my divorce process--connection and warmth felt so unattainable, I clung to it in any way I could. I feel so much compassion for where he's at, and I really, REALLY wanted to make his pain go away. Because I am codependent and taking care of people is my addiction! A fact I'm glad to have remembered yesterday.

After BFF went home, it was time for me and TGNS to try the couch again. I made my own little nest on one end, and he sat in my usual spot. I put a pillow wall between us so I wouldn't spook the poor timid boy, but after a while, I asked if I could put my head on his shoulder, and he said yes. Goodbye pillow wall!

"I won't try anything untoward," I said, and he made the saddest little sound. Maybe I should take up poetry again so I can give Saddest Little Sound its due, but I'm honestly so sick of this obsession.

What I see now looking back on that night is someone who really, REALLY wanted to want what I want, so we could have harmony. I wanted the same! I wanted to let him be timid and hesitant and reluctant and whatever else he was feeling.

But it felt bad, the pain he seemed to feel with every step forward. I can try to understand it, turn it over and over to try and figure out what he really wanted from me, but again, sick of the obsession.

It felt bad when he left at like 8:30 instead of commencing the promised binge. I resolved to set my sights on friendship and start letting the Other Stuff go.

(Meanwhile, while I'm typing this, I heard him screaming in anger next door, hopefully not at the cat! Can I go steal the cat?! Only sort of kidding.)

Okay, I'm Completely Lost

 

Mulholland Drive helps me.

Okay, Christmas was very cute, but I've been living in a fantasy for a little while and it's time for me to do as the cowboy says. Hopefully with a happier ending than Naomi Watts gets.

Skipping ahead in the story, The Guy Next Door and I had our first date! That's what he said it was! We had so much fun! He said I was beautiful and said he wanted us to try putting ropes on each other!! I can't prove that this happened, but it did. I can't prove that he was ever attracted to me, and to be fair, no court of law is asking me to.

(He told me yesterday that he's not "traditionally attracted to me," but that he felt something. It sounded really close to calling me "not traditionally attractive" which, in fairness, I am not. I have other qualities!)

Jesus fuck though, is there anything worse to hear than "I'm not traditionally attracted to you?" Just tell me I'm ugly already, this is taking forever.

ANYWAY we got back from the date (Which I don't really think is what it was.) (He called our two apartments "our place" though.) we settled in for a cuddle, which we'd tried a couple times, but this time, we were in my bed.

It felt good, so, so good. I felt hopeful and safe and beautiful. My head was resting on his heart and the moment felt almost right.

I said "I'm gonna kiss you, I'm just waiting for the right song to come on."

And he made the saddest little sound. It was the same sad sound he made when I put my head on his shoulder for the first time, back when we were watching some post-Christmas Bob's Burgers. (He'd downloaded a bunch for us to watch when my Roku was out for a day. I thought that was so sweet because it was, in fact, SO SWEET.)

Anyway, saddest little sound, so I asked, is that okay? and he said

"Not yet." Which a very good and appropriate thing to say when you don't want to kiss someone. Technically a Good No even though I hated it.

He kept acting like this was the start of dating though! I even tried to plan our regular (never was really that regular) Thursday Art Night, and he said he thought we should see each other sooner, so we picked Tuesday, which is today, and for which time slot I've booked a somewhat-emergency therapy appointment.

After he left on Saturday, I was very close to panic. I didn't understand the not-kissing! And I didn't want to ask because, that's just not the thing to do! I didn't want him to feel like I was complaining when things had gone so well. I wanted to have space to understand Saturday before I tried to understand what was going on.

With OCD, reassurance is the addiction, I have to keep it to a minimum. But in a new thing, you need reassurance! I need to stop thinking about that contradiction or my brain will loop forever.

I gave myself space from the panic, and eventually I chilled out and was able to experience the warmth and promise of what had happened so far. So I reached out and told him how beautiful I felt, and how I did want to do the ropes with him if I could put them on him first, and how I hope he was understanding what's going on in the new season of Stranger Things, because I couldn't make heads or tails of it.

OF COURSE that cute and very nice text was met with a mini-radio-silence on his part, and I got triggered. I wanted to ask "Am I being too much?" and then was LIVID that he was making me feel like I was too much. I am SO MUCH but I like myself this way. Or I usually do when it's not yesterday!

I told him about the trigger and he seemed very understanding, he even offered to change a few things so I could feel a little more oriented. It seemed like I was talking with someone I could trust, so when he said "Any other questions?" I went ahead and asked:

"You said it was a date, but you didn't want to kiss me. Can you tell me some more about that?"

He said he was just figuring things out and needed to give it some thought.

So I asked the real question: "Are you attracted to me? I'm seeing about 40% attracted, 60% terrified. Am I getting the math right?"

And he said he needed to ponder that too! 

What in the world were we gonna talk over on Tuesday if on Monday he had to ponder whether he was attracted to me or not?!

I went over after work to ask about that, if there WAS anything to talk over, and it just kept getting worse and worse. I said things like "How come they're (Girl Next Door and Yoga Camp Hottie) kissable and I'm not?

Questions there are no answers to and shouldn't be answers to.

 Questions I know I'm not supposed to ask and still can't let go of yet:

Why them and not me?

Is it the fat?

What am I missing?

I'm trying so hard to do this right, what am I not doing?

I teared up with a little self-compassion typing those questions. The longing, the hurt, the loneliness. The everlasting torment that there exist more kissable girls with more  (TRADITIONALLY) yoga-y butts.

On my part, there's love here, even a little acceptance but I can't get to it through a wall of obsession.

I have a mental illness that makes me and my experiences feel unreal, and sometimes I choose people who help make us feel even more unreal. People who are shifting, mysterious, in flux, at sea. That's who I've chosen for my last two crushes and my most recent play partner.

It's hard to have any hope for love right now. I have to give up on him, but I don't want to give up on love. I'm glad I booked a therapy appointment instead of waiting for him to come talk to me tonight. 

I don't know how a person with a brain like mine can be loved, and I need my higher power to help me find faith in myself again. Probably not today, but soon.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With the Guy Next Door: Part Two

 

Christmas Eve at my (Unitarian) church was SO good. I went with one of my closest friends, the music was gorgeous (Even when they messed with the chorus of "Go Tell It On the Mountain." Not the time!) and we did the thing where they turn off all the lights and we sang Silent Night and everything was absolutely perfect--I'm so glad I stayed in town for Christmas this year.

The pastor read a poem about how it was really kinda funny for the angels to say "Be not afraid"--like OMG an angel is talking to you and the whole sky is opening up and you're supposed to be...super chill about it?! I liked thinking about awe and it helped me understand why my connection to The Guy Next Door felt so overwhelming--miracles are big and overwhelming, but you have to deal with them anyway.

And that gave me courage! Or foolhardiness, time will tell I guess. I was going to put up some street art after church and I invited TGNS to go with me. And he did! Is the romcom a compulsion or just how things are sometimes?

Either way, it was Christmas Magic for sure. I felt so aglow, so in love with the world and my neighborhood, and, okay, him, and he seemed happy too! After we got the art done and made a few "Wait are you Banksy?" type jokes, he agreed to come home and watch Bob's Burgers on the couch with me. He'd never been on my couch before! 

But! The Roku was out! And we were both too sleepy-stoned to fix it, (plus troubleshooting makes me feel like I'm dying) and I didn't want to push my luck with the couch stuff, so we said a dreamy goodnight. He was coming over for Scrabble with me and Sweetie the next day! It kinda felt like things were coming together, like romance might be possible with him, like we would keep getting to know each other and maybe something sparkly would develop between us.

I'm glad I gave myself a moment to feel that! Christmas just kept getting better.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door: Part One

Friends, I am FREAKING OUT. Yesterday was my first real date with The Guy Next Door, and it went well! And today OCD wants me to know ALLLLLL the possible things that could go wrong, or could prove it didn't happen at all. So it's past time to write about what happened over Christmas.

Ever since he helped me with my left-my-phone-in-the-Lyft emergency on Election Day, TGND and I have been hanging out pretty regularly, just friend time with the occasional flirty spark. I didn't know what was going on with the other two ladies, but my therapist gave me this treasure of an advice:

"Maybe you don't have to figure things out and you can focus on having an amazing holiday"

AND OMG I DID IT!

He came over the Thurs before Christmas to help me put up my decorations (Definitely counts as Art Night!) but instead of doing that, we talked for three hours. He'd told me he was poly before, but this time I actually HEARD him. As he filled me in on his relationships, I felt an old familiar golden emotion sparking up!

Compersion!

But more than that, I felt like "Oh yeah, this! I know how to do this." The generosity and lightness I've felt during the best parts of poly life--there they were!

AND

OMG

I CAN'T EVEN BELIEVE IT

The Guy Next Door is a rope top! Gentlekittens, start your engines! (400 scream emojis)

As we sat there, looking through each other's hot pictures, (Though I held off on sharing all but the most chaste rope pictures of me.) I felt like yes. This is The Thing. It's happening. The Pink Haze that takes over sometimes and leads me in the right direction, here it was decorating my apartment, which was good, because nary a Christmas light was hung.

The next night, he came back to actually put up the lights. I was making cookies for Angel Face's Solstice party, so I assigned TGNS to put the lights on the tree.

And I said

(because I am extremely me)

"I think I'm about to get very jealous of the tree!"

He looked shy and startled and said "You're making me blush." and all the bravery drained out of me at once. I felt an ice floe of fear and clammed up, focusing back on the cookies. We joked back and forth like "Oh haha we're such flirty people, of course we're flirting, no big deal."

But I knew that wasn't what I was doing, so I asked, "Do you think we'll get to snuggle someday?" 

And he stopped, thought for a sec, and said "Maybe!"

"Maybe's good!" I said, and for maybe the first time in my whole entire OCD life, I believed it.

Happy Knotty Thursday New Year!

 

Hope your 2026 is starting off cozy and cute! I think I've been doing an exceptional job loving myself lately! With a week of vacation after the job of Christmas is over, I'm just hanging out doing all the things I like.

Monday morning, first thing, I crated the cat and cozied up to my ropes, no particular design or agenda. I love how squishy-wet I got during the long and leisurely tying process. I put on my favorite album (Frank Ocean's Blonde, I never get tired of telling you.) and went to bed. Then after that, I picked another album--Love, Damini by Burna Boy. I burned rose incense and put on rose lotion and felt like the queen of my heart, which I am!

Here are my wishes for the new year: I hope my cute friendship with the Guy Next Door will keep blossoming into whatever it's meant to be. I hope I can keep letting go of things that don't work. I hope to re-embrace my poly identity and let the pain of losing the Shy Ones be a little more in the past. I hope for music and movies and friendship and flowers and trees and birds and art.

I hope too that America keeps rising up against tyranny, blowing sharp whistles til ICE is abolished, trans people are safe, women and girls are people, and men go to therapy. I hope for peace and freedom and plenty in Gaza and Ukraine. I hope the arc of justice gets back to bending forwards. I hope everyone can be fed and housed and warm and cared for.

For you, I'm sending warmth and brightness and grace. I love you, dear readers, hope you have the best year yet.