Totoro and a Visit from 2016, Part Four

 

Another thing happened after our time machine visit from The Bern. I was walking him to the door at his place and Angel Boy said "I like you. In fact, I think I can even say I love you."

"Awww I love you too!" I said. Maybe this was a red flag, but it didn't feel that way. Maybe he was just trying to fix the fight or make sure I didn't go away, but I said it because I meant it, and I'm pretty sure he did to.

So I didn't do what maybe I should've done, which was politely say goodbye after all the misogyny. But I am so, SO tired of the ways I let Putin control my love life! I wanted to try something new.

When I got home from the I love yous, I wrote to him and told him how hurt I was about the politics, how much grief and loss the conversation had brought up. I said I was going to give myself a few days to let things settle. He apologized and said he would be waiting patiently for my return.

The giving-myself-time thing was so cool! I always wanted to try it, to slow down and let myself process. After a couple days, my heart warmed and I knew what to say, so I said it.

This isn't the first far-left cutie to talk about my political life with contempt. I know being hated for being a Democrat is far from being the biggest injustice in the world, but I hate it. I just hate it so much. I've lost a few Millennial friends this way, the contempt is so baked in! Baked in by decades of GOP attacks on Hillary, by valid critiques of stupid centrist "tough on crime" decisions, by the won't-someone-please-think-of-the-white-men rotten heartbeat of American Himpathy.

It's so painful to be the enemy, to live in separate worlds from my younger friends, from my family, from man after man after man. I just didn't want to let this one go, so I didn't. We made it to our third date and I'm so glad we did.

Meanwhile! Birthday Week Spanks from Puzzle Guy!

 We had our first date weeks ago, a diner that closed too early and a delicious afternoon watermelon mojito instead. I wasn't sure about him, but I'm pretty sure all of dating is uncertainty for me to practice with my OCD therapist.

Late August can eat up your life in its own special way, but we finally got together this week. (We did have date 1.5 by text one evening when I had cute undies on and was feeling horny, but that's another story.)

I love a puzzle that's about a tea set, with cakes and china and flowers. Usually, there are cats, but this one is catless. It makes up for that error by being full of pink and patterns and legible sky pieces. Puzzle Guy really did come over to work on the puzzle, it's not a euphemism. 

He wanted to do a good job, I could tell by the way he tried to smoosh the pieces together instead of casually sifting and sorting like I like to. It was midafternoon after his Cute Guy Job released him. He'd biked over and was sweaty- his scent was gorgeous and made me sure I would kiss him. First though, nuzzling our feet under the puzzle table, cute as can be.

After we'd puzzled and chatted enough, I sent him downstairs so I could change. Pink or red, I asked, and was glad when he said red. I put on my beautiful red bra and panty set, a matching red lace nightie, a soft flowered robe. This outfit always make me feel a little sexy-in-quotation-marks, but I love it for that too. Hard to miss the opportunity to feel hot when you're all in red lace.

We kissed (It's such a joy when someone you think will be a good kisser is a good kisser!!) before I bent over the bed for my birthday spanks. His hits were strong and stinging, and I wiggled and kicked my feet with delight. He was commanding, but silly too, just the way I like to be dominated. A guttural moan came all the way from my solar plexus, deep relief and celebration.

He couldn't stay long, but he did leave his sneakers, so I guess he'll have to come back! Thanks for helping me start my birthday week right, Puzzle Guy. Come back and get your shoes and me!

Totoro and a Visit from 2016, Part Three

 

The jump scare is coming up, but first, lacy things and dancing! Angel Boy and I were laying around (By the next date, this part would be named Being Cats and I love that so much for us!) talking about our Feeld profiles and I told him one of the reason he'd intrigued me was that he wears girls' clothes in some of his pictures! Heart eyes emoji!

And, OHlook, I have a closet full of lingerie, would he like to try something on?

"You pick something for me," he said, and I picked my Barbie-est pink teddy.

"I warn you," he'd said earlier, "I might look prettier than you in a dress..."

I'd say the pretty was about even, but I still can't stop thinking about how beautifully the lace covered his chest. I put on my favorite see-through bodysuit and Rumors by Lizzo and Cardi B came on. I couldn't stop myself from dance-flailing around, the joy was so profound! I'm gonna leave that silly rhyme.

Kissing and dancing with him in our pretty outfits was a wild, childlike joy, and it made me feel so unhinged that I kept apologizing even though there was no reason to. In my dancey exclaimings, I accidentally sprayed spittle all over his cute nose and he winced. I wiped off his face and we kept laughing and dancing. Life was free and beautiful and silly and horny and PERFECT.

Soon it was time to take him home, though, and (jaws music) he spotted the picture I keep by the door of me shaking Hillary Clinton's hand. Spite sparked up in his eyes out of nowhere and he said "Oh is this from when she was friends with Trump?"

"No that was the eighties, I think." My heart fell down several flights of stairs. Not this conversation.

But it was exactly that conversation, similar in tone if not content to the last fight I had with my dad. OHREALLY?! A man telling me what's wrong with Hillary and (by extension, in my mind) all the free election/protest labor I've done in the past decade?! The far left sure loves labor, unless it's women and people of color doing it.

Friends, he used the phrase "charisma lessons."

But! When I made points about Russian interference and how shitty/misogynist it is to say Bernie's primary losses were rigged, Angel Boy listened, or at least pretended to.

This conversation transports me instantly to my own personal Backrooms, and here I was having it for the nth time with someone I really, REALLY liked. I can't keep running into the same thing over and over and having the same flight response. But oh! This hurt my heart and made me worry that the easy equity between us had been an illusion. I had a lot to think about.

Totoro and a Visit From 2016, Part Two

 I don't know what's better than making out on the couch in front of a few episodes of Adventure Time! Probably nothing! But I wanted to take this snuggle party to bed.

First, I shuffled around in my playlist to find just the right song. I settled on Miles Fisher's cover of This Must Be the Place, dreamy and automated and perfectly spectrumy. "Home/Is where I want to be/but I guess I'm already there." The perfect longing, fulfilled. I felt a little self-conscious about the aptness of the song as we climbed the stairs.

I wanted Angel Boy in my bed so badly, and there he was, in my girly pink marshmallow cloud sanctuary, my happiest happy place. He was a happy place too. I took off my favorite (white with bi-colored flowers) summer princess dress, leaving on my favorite lavender lacy underthings, a gift from The Shy One that keeps on giving. Angel Boy stripped to his boxer briefs and I swooned with happiness feeling his soft, warm, fuzzy skin next to mine. On mine.

He was, as promised, softly dommy, but he let me pull his hair. As I carefully tugged at the scruff of his neck, a growl came from all the way inside him, he tensed and sprung upon me, that favorite kind of kiss where the tiniest part of me thinks I might be eaten.

He pulled down my pretty bra and sucked my nipples, too hard at first and then just right. "OH!" I cried out, mentally checking to remember the window was closed. I was in a cloud of blankets and stuffies and pleasure. When he went for my clit, I was soaked slick for him, the feeling was monumental. With his fingers inside me, I felt powerful, transcendent. I was grounded in my body in a way that felt new, a new kind of health.

After a good loud while, Angel Boy looked a little shyly into my eyes and asked-without-asking if I'd orgasmed, and I told him the tide would just keep rolling, let's take a break.

I love holding him and being held, kissing and nuzzling, but guess what I love even more: an impromptu sing-along. Tears for Fears Everybody Wants to Rule the World came on and, tentatively at first, we sang. 

"Help me make the most of freedom and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever..."

Friends, I don't know how he does it, but this guy stops time.