I've been doing pretty well since last post, focusing on my Twelve Step stuff, enjoying work, getting situated for summer. The sadness of letting Sweet Valentine go is still with me, partly because I may never get to know his perspective on our two magical dates. He said he still liked me when he broke things off, and that may have to be enough.
Hurt feelings and Symmetry OCD make it hard to talk about my own perspective, but something important happened to me and I want to try and get it into words.
Part if my unmasking autism process is, I feel emotions in new ways! With new physical sensations. Like, when I cry, I can physically feel it coming straight up from my heart, and that feels beautiful, like a real and healthy release instead of just a ripple in a river of unending sorrow. NBD.
Maybe it was yoga and not really SV at all, but on our first date, almost immediately after he sat down next to me, I felt a golden sparkly hula hoop light circling my lower waist, circling us both together. It wasn't moving hula-ish-ly, it was still, it was the stillest thing in the universe. I was the stillest thing in the universe, warmly and (it felt) permanently in god's grace with him.
I tried to think of a less-mystical way to type that sentence, but there isn't one.
This was different from my Pink Haze of Desire or the scattered giddy lunacy I felt towards The Guy Next Door. This was grounded and safe and exactly where I needed to be.
It feels wrong and unfair to think that Sweet Valentine didn't feel the same comfort and surety, and I don't know that he didn't, before reality sunk in.
I had the golden loop with me all through our break, it's what kept me strong and (I thought) kind in all that uncertainty.
I can still feel it now, telling me I'm/we're safe, telling me that this is everything working itself out.
The next time I feel The Golden Loop with someone, I'll try to slow down and see what it's trying to tell me. I'd love to listen to that stillness instead of the urgency and ugliness of OCD. I would love, dear Golden Loop, for you to be in charge now. Don't let me chase any more treasures away, including the treasures that are me.
My word for the year and my dating plan through June: Higher Power is my anchor partner, let's see where it goes.
Last night night, my break from Sweet Valentine progressed to break-off. We'd planned to meet for coffee this morning, but he blessedly, blessedly told me over the phone that he just wanted to be friends. I'm very, very grateful that I didn't have to cry in front of neighbors and scones.
At least I had the good sense to not disingenuously push myself into friendtown, thinking I could get his attention or change his mind that way--at least I've learned that one thing. Now I have two official wisdoms that I'm sure of:
1. Don't try to be just-friends with someone you still would like to kiss forever and ever.
2. Always get the concert tickets!
Letting myself be uncertain about him (And not trying to lobby for myself! That much!)for a whole month was really, really hard. I'm really, really proud that I did it. I also think I maybe should have let him go a month ago, but I still have a hard time untangling pattern recognition from intrusive thoughts. I think I read the room that Monday waiting for him to text me at the Fancy Garden, maybe that's why I panicked. I still wish I hadn't panicked.
He blamed me for it not working out, and I apologized so much. Today I woke up wanting to retract 75% of my sorries and really feeling like I'd thrown myself under the bus. This is partly because my Coda sponsor named him "Mr. Blamey"--I was feeling like a witchy slut who ruins everything and can't be loved until she said that.
How did two beautiful, playful, FUN dates end with me slut-shaming myself? How could the person who'd looked at me like I was a miracle the moment we met and who seemed as all-in as anybody ever end up so cold and prickly? I guess you have to be cold and prickly when you're breaking things off with someone you still like.
I'm so frustrated today because I did the thing again! I picked someone who didn't have room for me in his life and I spent a month thinking of ways to make myself less obtrusive, to fit into the sliver of space he might have had for me. I bent and folded my life like origami trying to make myself a right one for him.
I picked another person who made me feel like Too Much because his life is full of chaos and I maybe helped him feel things that couldn't be controlled. Who took a swirl of cute-hot silliness and turned it into a problem to be solved. And then I turned me into a problem to be solved.
I think, as my OCD therapist likes to remind me, there's no problem to be solved here. There's no "right way" to do it that will save me from rejection and pain and loss. There's no answer or kiss or date on the calendar that he could have given me to shore up my worries. It was just a bad match.
He regrets the fastness of things, and I understand that, but I'm not going to blame the magic chemistry of those two dates for how things turned out. I'm not going to let loss and shame and one beautiful but kiss-shocked husband turn turn me against the Pink Haze, the swoon of my body knowing exactly what to do.
I love the way our bodies (and pardon me, our souls) sparked together so quick and so thoroughly. I think it was meant to be, and important, and real. I understand why it scared him I think, why I scare him. I was a threat to his status quo. To really engage with what was happening between us, he would have had to change his life, and that IS scary!
Being both a catalyst and a codependent, two more things that could use some untangling.
I'm really trying to get a handle on the solo poly chip on my shoulder, but I think a lot of opening-up couples have the fantasy that their partners will never need anything, that they will be lovely, frictionless treats instead of whole human beings. That's not the only thing that happened here, but it's one of them.
Today, I feel lost. My mind is a cacophony of advice from every dear person who supports and cares for me, plus lots of opportunistic OCD, and right now that's drowning out my ability to hear myself think.
But last night, I did hear myself. As I was crying it through to BFF, I felt a little gust of well-being that said, "Huh. I think everything's working out." I hope that feeling returns soon. For now though, Sweetpea makes me feel seen:
I feel like a sleepy angel in my favorite-color ropes that are long enough for me! This could have been tighter and more careful, but they made for such a hot and cozy night with myself.
I love the moment in some self-tie sessions when I feel just a whoosh of swollen wetness, an absolute slick of comfort. I had plans to lay around and read (and I eventually did) but the pair of ropes at my crotch had other ideas. I liked tangling them up with my clit, a rough pinch that made me feel potent. I felt big and mighty, like I imagine a man might with his dick in his hands.
I wanted to send the picture above (and its more explicit versions) to one of the sweethearts in this story, but I didn't. It was my night and I made the most of it--a little lonely, but good practice being devoted to myself. Good practice being present where I am instead of waiting for the ping of approval that might or might not arrive. Instant approval is better sometimes, and so is sleep.
How did I get so lucky?! How many times in this blog's fifteen years (?!) have I asked myself that? How can adventuring have so many miracles and surprises?
I overbooked myself weekend before last! I had more weekend gigs than usual, but I couldn't resist making plans with this very pretty face from Feeld. We'd planned to go see my favorite DJ do an early-evening set, but DW very kindly let me reschedule and stay home to watch Howl's Moving Castle with the cats that Saturday. I offered him Wednesday rope night instead and he very politely agreed.
He's so polite! That ade me think he might be beautifully subby, but he is not. He's a dom who'll stand still long enough to get ropes on. Lucky, lucky me.
DW is a street artist like me, and an activist. And busy! And so cute I didn't quite believe he was real until he was at my door. Plus, he knows where the play parties are! I think we'd look so cute there!
After ropes, I took him to bed. Or he took me?
He's a couple decades younger than me, but/and he has depth and maturity as a lover. He listens and responds with his whole body, covers me like a blanket.
"How did you get so good at this?" I asked.
"Practice?" he replied. I wanted to send thank you notes to whomever he's been practicing with! I still do!
He didn't mind when I got overwhelmed and needed breaks. He DEFINTELY didn't mind when I screamed out in pleasure. In fact, he grabbed my wrist and pressed it to the bed so I wouldn't try and cover my mouth. He looked into my face like he wanted to devour me.
And the spanks! And the way he held me down to administer the spanks! Sting and thud and ahhhhhh the relief. Oh the relief. He's just so thorough in his strength.
But friends, my favorite part: He feel asleep for a little while afterwards. I held him and listened to him snore a little and felt dazzled by the loveliness of the moment. I still do. :)
I know I'm always calling people gifts from heaven, but Dear Wrestler is a gift from heaven. I'm dizzy and sore this morning, mostly too well-seen-to to form sentences.
I felt clumsy with the ropes, a little stage fright this time! But he was kind and calm and patient. It felt good to wrap my arms around him and around him again.
Some nights feel like good karma, like rewards for some unknown thing I did right. He got the ropes on, but at no point did he flip submissive. At no point at all! Oh happy, happy day!
By the Monday after Valentine's Day, the city had been frozen for weeks. Ice on top of snow on top of ice, and the temperature was seldom higher than 20 degrees. I've been through fifty-one Februaries, and most of them seemed like they would never, ever end. I'd been trapped here learning to love myself with varying success. My brain imagined Guy Next Door having the most lighthearted and casual adventures while I worked my steps and did my therapy sessions. It was time to thaw. It was time for colors and light and alive smells.
So BFF-Formerly-Sweetie and I planned a day at the Fancy Gardens, almost as an emergency. We were both excited to look at colors and I planned to flood the entire internet with flower pictures.
But BFF's back was out! She had a brace on and was walking with two canes instead of two. It broke my heart the way it always did when she was hurting and it also made me remember times when she'd been hurting and I'd been unkind. When I'd been heartless and impatient. I don't think I could ever forgive myself for the ways I've let my BFF down. Here I am, lucky enough to have someone to stand by me, to be my Emergency Contact. It's been twenty-five years (That gum you like is back in style.) of the deepest and most meaningful relationship of my life, and I still couldn't figure out how to *save* her or to at least make up for all the pain and neglect.
Her version might just be that her back hurt and we had a really lovely thawing day looking at flowers. But OCD and codependency had different interpretations for me.
There was another memory of The Fancy Garden around the edges of my (Nonetheless taking SO many pictures of flowers, do not worry!)
fraught-feeling soul: The Shy One. On February 6th it was three years since he broke up with me. The week before that, I'd taken myself to the garden for winter emergency reasons, yes, but also just to listen to myself.
Things had been off between us since he got back from his trip home. He was colder and more elusive and I was kinda going crazy because he came home with "a little malaria" and I couldn't come tend to him, couldn't help "fix" the situation. And I was scared, because I'd never encountered malaria outside of novels. My imagination ran wild and I thought he was going to die. I mean, everyone's going to, but I really was afraid I he was on his way out.
(One time he told me it was like I knew he was going away soon, like I was trying to have the whole relationship at once. I've wished for years I could go back and be more present, more patient, more accepting, but I was what I was, and so was he. I don't wish like I used to that I could turn back time and do right by him, but I am TERRIFIED of making the same mistakes.)
Anyway, back to 2023 Fancy Garden. Texting flowers had been our thing, Shy One and I, but though he had recovered he was still being snappish and uncommunicative. I remember looking at a shot I took, a semi-lewd close-up of a fiery orange amaryllis, with bitterness in my heart, like, if he's not going to say more than "good morning" with no emoji, I'm not sending him one more piece of art he doesn't care about.
Back in 2026, with the glass-warmed sun shining on me and so many different purples to look at,I was also in the middle of making third-date plans with Sweet Valentine and he was Not Texting Back. And OCD was telling me it was Shy One all over again, that I was making the same stupid mistake. I felt one of my deepest fears: What if I can ONLY be drawn to people who really aren't drawn to me, who don't text me back, who don't need me for anything at all.
(They tell me in Codependents Anonymous that I can be loved without being needed, and I totally feel that sometimes! But not on this particular day.)
(I know from my OCD support groups that texting is one of the hardest things for those of us with Relationship OCD to handle. I'm definitely the only neurospicy hottie who regularly wants to fling her phone into the sea.)
(Back in 2001 when BFF-Formerly-Sweetie and I were getting together, it was the red light on the answering machine that used to vex me! But there weren't so many other things to check so the madness of it was less maddening.)
We had a beautiful day at the gardens. BFF was glad she came, if still hurty. I still very much wanted her hurt to stop. I've always been more emotionally fragile than she is, but her physical fragility is so hard to handle. I can't help but flash forward to a day when I'll be without her, when I'll SOMEHOW have to figure life out without her. I hope that's in a long, LONG time but sometimes, it seems like it's already here.
I cried a lot of the way home; good, productive tears.
It turns out I wasn't OCDing about Sweet Valentine's quiet, or not JUST OCDing. I was kinda reading the room. He'd been wondering if he couldn't live up to all his obligations and still be poly. He wanted us to slow down so he could listen to himself about what he really wants, what he's really capable of.
That is actually so lovely! But friends, I melted down. All the griefs of the day and of the years came out in a tangle to this already-overwhelmed-but-extremely lovely man with a life just as big and messy as mine. After two dates, I would like to have preserved more mystery, but he heard me about two-thirds of the way to my worst.
But he stayed in the conversation and had the conflict with me. I still felt a warm soul-connection to him and he SOMEHOW still liked me, even after I got so tangled. So that's why the month break, which has a little more than two weeks left. Most days, I feel carried and faithful about this, like I can trust both of us to listen to ourselves, to do what we really want. I trust, if he comes back to me, that it'll mean that's what he really wants. I think I already know what I really want, but who knows how two more weeks will change me?
That night when we were agreeing to the break, I told him I hope our respective Totoros will take us just where we need to go. He said he loves Totoro, because of course he does.
So if you want to know how this story will turn out, here's the only person who knows:
