OMG, Sweet Valentine!

 I'm back at work now, but one of the nicest things about my weird extra time off this summer was sitting in my favorite park and reading. Thursday before last, I think, I sat there a while working on my Fierce Self-Compassion workbook. (An awesome framework to focus on once my twelve-step Codependent stuff started feeling too harsh.) It was the most beautiful late-summer day, a little breeze in the air and all the fall flowers shining.

As I was walking home past peach roses and giant pink mallows and past-their-peak crape myrtle trees, I saw a familiar skinny gorgeous man across the street, and smiled. He said hello, and my brain eventually processed who I was seeing! Sweet Valentine! I hadn't talked to him since he broke things off with me in March, but he seemed glad to see me.

"Can I come across the street give you a hug" I asked and he said "No, let me come to you."

Oh friends, this hug. Or rather, series of hugs, absolute and wholehearted. He wasn't a stranger at all, our bodies still felt bonded. It was a joy and relief and lowkey a religious experience to be held by him again, even chastely, under a tree on a late-summer favorite street. We held each other so tight, like we'd been separated in a war or something. I didn't want to let go and I don't think he did either.

When we finally stepped apart again, I said "Do you think we could get together for a very low-key coffee and catch up?"

"Yes," he said, "Because..."

"Like, soon? Or in a long time?" I interrupted him, chirpy and overwhelmed with forward heart-momentum.

"Something in between," He said, and went on to tell me he's in the midst of separating from his wife!

A weird part of solo-poly life is doing my best to keep mum about the marriages I end up adjacent to, trying to respect their space but sometimes just kinda seeing the writing on the wall. 

"Oh, no, I'm so sorry! Well, not that sorry." I said.

I touched his heart and felt string there, a little startled because it reminded me of our rope moments. It wasn't rope though, it was  necklaces with quartz and labradorite, which he showed me, explaining that he'd just finished charging them. Maybe that was the source of this crazy energy I was feeling, but probably not. (Also, a guy who likes crystals in a slightly more floaty way than I do?! So cute.)

We talked for a few more minutes. I wanted to keep him there talking with me forever, but he was going to meet friends. I told him seeing him made my heart sing and I would text him my number when I got home, since of course I still had his.

When I first saw him in Favorite Cafe last February, I felt a golden loop surrounding us- attraction or destiny or some mix of the two. This time, it wasn't a gold loop but a bright yellow-white sun feeling, shining directly out of my heart. I was giddy for the rest of the day, almost too giddy for my afternoon nap. I was brought into my body in a way I'd been missing. I was home, layers of home, grounded but full of hope.

He'll text me when and if it's time to catch up. I've never been so sure what to do about a feeling! Absolutely nothing. I looked up what people use labradorite for, and it said connection to the divine. Even if I never see him again, this was a moment of divinity that would be enough on its own. I'm so glad he's thriving and growing and standing up for himself and being a lil bit witchy like me. I'm so happy to live in the world with him, and I hope our respective higher powers conspire us to that coffee someday.

Til then, faith. Til then, the freedom to do absolutely nothing about it.

Puzzle Guy Cheered Me Up! :)

 

By now, most of my missing-Angel-boy has alchemized into missing the person I thought he was, plus lowkey OCD hum of I'll never find love again that I try to ignore as best I can. But last week during therapy, it was deep. There was a lot to confront. It was one of those sessions where I said to myself mid-sob "This is so good. So productive, thank you."

"Oh my poor heart," I said, calming down a little. I'm really really proud of how kind I could be towards myself in the midst of hurt and grief. I've been working in my Fierce Self-Compassion workbook, and it shows. Growing and changing and whatever, hooray! 

Anyway it felt fatelike when! I picked up my phone and! There was Puzzle Guy, asking if he could come over after work and grab the sneakers he left here last time. I said sure, as long as he grabbed me too! 

I got a little bit of my usual post-therapy nap in before he arrived, and I saw no reason to exit the bed when he got here. We both took off our clothes and he got into bed with me and just...rested. He was so warm and safe and comforting, it felt like I was getting a reward just for existing. Maybe I was!

I wasn't sure if I'd be into sexytimes so soon after all the sobbing, but as we lay there being cozy and catching up, I felt a little flicker through me, and after a bunch more snuggling just came out and said "I'm feeling pretty horny now."

That'll get a guy out of little spoon position and onto my face. His kisses were such a lovely mix of urgent and soft, just as delightfully tongue-forward as could be. When he went for my nipples, I watched his long tongue play and play, knowing I'd picture that hotness for maybe the rest of my personal-time life. He pointed his tongue and wagged it over my tits, slurping me up.

And oh, Puzzle Guy's dick. It's looong and thick and uncut, infinitely play-with-able. His knee had gone out a few days before, so I didn't expect to get fucked. But I was wrong. I bent over the bed and stood on my tiptoes so he could slide in, and it felt so, SO good. I was immediately screaming into my pillows, and it wasn't long before I had to ask for a break. He was overwhelming and I was GRATEFUL.

Come to think of it, this was maybe the first time I EVER asked for a break during penetration, though it was far from the first time I've ever gotten overwhelmed. I was always so afraid the dick was gonna go away and never come back, so I just powered through! No regrets there, but I really try to keep my powering-through to a minimum these days.

After my break, another round, this time on my back with my hips straining upward to meet him.

Friends, I've had so many lovely connections and progresses and joys all year, but it had been WAY too long since I just got thoroughly FUCKED. Oh I needed it.

As he was getting ready to go home, I lay on the silky sheets of my bedside floor-nest, sighing dreamily. I was spent, in a cloud of relief and pleasure. I walked around carrying extra sensuality for a few days after, satisfied and soft.

Puzzle Guy remembered to take his sneakers with him this time, who knows if or when he'll come back. If he does, I'll welcome him with open arms and open legs, oh thank you, thank you, thank you!

Last Magic With Angel Boy, Part Two

I don't think my next-to-the-bed nest has ever looked more beautiful. That dress smelled like him so emphatically. <3 <3 <3

"Can we go upstairs and be cats?" I asked after a few more Adventure Time episodes, and yes, we could.

We stripped to our underwear and got into my pink fluffy bed. I'd just dumped a bunch of Oasis and Psychedelic Furs onto my Virgo Season playlist, making it a little uneven, but perfectly dreamy. We curled up in animal bliss until the horniness took over.

I can remember the exact sensation of his fingers inside me, desire so strong it bordered on an itch. His nails were maybe a little too long, but not unpleasantly so. He held back my wrist with his other hand and indulged my halfhearted struggle. I loved being in his arms and under his power so much. I loved his scent, his long hair I could tangle my hands through. I loved kissing his mouth, his forehead, the tip of his nose. His sensitive nipples will live rent-free in my mind forever. Oh the ecstasy of this connection, oh the miracle of it.

I'm not gonna feel bad or embarrassed or ashamed about Fast Love anymore. I worried about it after the disaster of The Guy Next Door and the whiplash of Sweet Valentine, but I still love those loves, still value their parts in my life so much. Sometimes, I just know, and sometimes it goes by fast. Last night when I was laying in bed by myself, stoned and happy on the edge of sleep, I was able to name what happened: I'd hitched a ride on a star.

As much as I loved our time together, Angel Boy didn't have the spoons to text me much between visits and that made me feel lonely, too vulnerable, too weighed down by uncertainty. This was the exact thing I drove The Shy One nuts about, and I wasn't going to make that mistake again. It was difficult and messy and sad to let Angel Boy go, but I know it's cruel and controlling to stick around hoping someone will change.

And you know what? It was cruel how hard I pushed myself to change, too. There's never gonna be someone I can feel completely certain about, but I can find people whose rhythms don't twist the uncertainty knife. I'm so grateful for my time with Angel Boy, my Three Date Love. Maybe next time, I'll make it to four dates. In the meantime, my heart is so grateful and full.

 

Last Magic With Angel Boy: Part One

His specific kind of chips, Aldi version. I spoiled Angel Boy and I'm so glad.

The last time Angel Boy came over, I got into a princess costume right away, just because. He let me pick out a dress for him to wear as well. I wish you could see how beautiful he was. I wish I had taken more pictures, darn me being so present and in-the-moment!

After our politics/I love yous adventure, I wanted Angel Boy and I to really talk, so I tried this dice game that worked before, with The Shy One. When I proposed the idea, he seemed so excited, but by the night of the date, he had forgotten. He just wanted to watch Adventure Time and cuddle, but he got into the game pretty quickly. He said I was glad I'd thought of it, he really didn't know how to talk about any of that stuff.

I knew I was codependent-ing, trying to run the whole connection on my own because I sensed that no forward motion would come from his end. Being an artist and a codependent, I feel like I can sometimes conjure whole relationships one-sidedly, carry them along on my own momentum and effort until the resentment and inertia become too much, never knowing what's real or mutual. Also though, I have Relationship OCD, so not knowing what's real or mutual is part of my day-to-day life.

The plan for the evening, after we talked, was birthday spanks! We'd joked that I would get 204 spanks, 52 on each cheek with hands, then flogger. His flogger looked a little flimsy, but I looked forward to it with delight anyway. I've been woefully unspanked the last few birthdays, oh no!

But first, episodes. It took us a while to figure out where we'd left off in our Adventure Time viewing, but we landed on one that featured a surprising amount of spanking for a kids' show! The coziness between us was swift and thorough, bonded on the couch like the little pack animals that we are.

I asked if I could sit at his feet and put my head on his knee, and he said yes. I spread out a blanket on the floor and settled into a beatific pink glow, a magic stillness. I asked to make sure my tiara wasn't poking him. My pink tutu felt dreamy but not surreal, just me being me. He scritched my head in a rhythm that suggested he was either really in the groove or absent-minded, who's to say.

Angel Boy described himself as a Soft Daddy Dom (on reflection, he's actually none of those things) and I felt it. Though I was a ways away from being able to use the D-word with him, I felt it in my heart. I felt charmed, cherished, and safe. I felt right-size in the universe, insignificant and awed. The peace between us was thick and soporific, there'd be no spanks tonight.

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.

Totoro and a Visit from 2016, Part One

 Last Wednesday, Angel Boy and I had a date--he was coming over to watch My Neighbor Totoro on my comically small TV. I picked him up again from his Cute Guy Job and when he got in the car, his skin was cool from the work air conditioning. I kissed his hand and rubbed his cool arm all over my sweaty face. I'm sure I've described people as oases before, that's what he felt like, cool and soothing. And almost too beautiful to look at.

I was so excited to have him over to the series of nests that is my apartment. I made a special trip to get the snack he asked for. On my couch, he felt so right, by-now warm arms around me, bouncing to the Totoro theme, pure well-being.

Younger Cat didn't have to consider Angel Boy for too long before she was in my lap, purring with the vibes. We talked about things like why trees sometimes have necklaces on. Ohboy I just love Totoro so much. I love saying "soot sprites" as many times as I want to. I love petting the soft hair on Angel Boy's arm. I love going in for a cheek-kiss and getting a chip-filled mouth instead.

"Most people just want the mouth," he said and shrugged.

There was a new emotion!! How are there so many new emotions even at my advanced age?!

I asked him to hand me my new Build-a-Bear. She is a fairy bear covered with silver stars. Her name is Pinecone because I like the part in Fire Walk With Me when Laura finds a pinecone. She is scented like the most artificial of strawberries, the distilled essence of the 1980s.

"The perfect little girl smell" I said "That sounds weird but you know what I mean."

He said, blissfully and decisively, "Yeah, you're a little."

"I'm not...not..." I shrugged and then felt a whoosh of silence and safety. I felt peaceful and contained and treasured. Loved. It was me and him and the stuffie and the cat and somewhere in the house was the other cat and we were all together, a pack.

"You're in my pack" I said, and he agreed.

I don't know how long we stayed that way, but I felt an almost supernatural happiness, the kind that might come from sprouting seeds with a giant tripartite forest spirit who gets really excited about umbrellas.

Angel Boy had described himself as a "Soft Daddy Dom" the week before, and the parental nickname didn't bother my OCD like it usually does. Yes, I thought. Care and cuddling. Approval. Good girl. I don't think I'm a little because that would be too confusing with all the grownup stuff, but I hope those moments of feeling treasured, warm, and safe with stick with me for a long time to come.

Enchanted Diner Date With Angel Boy

He has just the most beautiful hands! <3

 Today I'm wondering if some loves might just be two dates long. 

I had Angel Boy pick a diner for our first date--even if it didn't work out, I'd still get to go to a diner! Though I hadn't been to this diner before, I knew there would be a comforting sameness to soften the anxieties of learning a possible new person. They had really beautiful Napoleons in the display case by the door, I may have to go back for one of those.

I was nervous driving over! One of my friends (Maybe the OCDest one) said he looked too young. He's in his mid-thirties, but the fear got in my head a little and it was hard not to let OCD have its say.

I picked him up at his cute-guy job. As soon as he was in my car, my fears whooshed away. The dynamic felt equal and sparky, kinda like meeting a worthy adversary you want to kiss. He took my arm right away, petted my hand, rifled around in the back of my hair while I drove.

His look reminded me of the following dreamboats: My first serious boyfriend,(Perfectly 1993 Guy ) Slater from Dazed and Confused, Eddie Vedder in his climbing-on-high-things-at-Lollapalooza-2 era, and the bookstore boss on whom I had a wild and music-fueled crush almost immediately after my marriage in 2003. (If I'd met Angel Boy in 2023, the symmetry would have been delicious.)

 He had a tattoo of a math pun on his arm. 

I felt Autistic Euphoria as we sat down in the diner and the banter machine whizzed to life and we settled into each other and settled into the comfy booth.

"Oversharing is my love language," I said cliche-ly, and he looked delighted and grabbed my hand.

"Oh you love me? I'm so glad."

We were kidding, but it did feel like a kind of instant love. It felt like we were taking over the whole diner with our vibes. Our waitress was curious about us, she asked if we'd known each other a long time, and we gigglingly said that we'd met a half hour ago. It must have been a slow night, because she came back with so many questions, like:

"What if his girlfriend doesn't like you?"

I was like "Of course she'll like me," but he launched into a deeper explanation of poly life. 

She told us she was done with dating, happy to stay home with her dog, but I think by the end of the night our joyful sluttiness rubbed off on her. I hope she's having the best adventures! And/or the best time staying home.

It was the kind of first date where you end up brainstorming a lot of other dates. I wanted to take him to the drive-in, the beach, and definitely to my place so I could see if the ropes liked him. Obviously he would need to watch Backrooms, My Neighbor Totoro, and Twin Peaks, and I was ready to watch anything I was assigned. I accidentally talked like he was already my boyfriend, and that didn't seem to scare him at all.

He's so warm and alive and present. And so beautiful. He has lips like a Renaissance cherub. When we kissed in the car on the way back to his place, it was like we'd been kissing our whole lives. Like his mouth was made for me. As I held his cheek to draw him deeper into the kiss, I felt my heart stir like he was moving in. He was.

Perfect Emo Night With The King of Carrot Flowers, Part Two

 

We went to Favorite Diner (As opposed to Neutral First Date Diner) to catch our breath and make this extraordinary moment a little more down to earth. It helped that he was in a work text chain putting out work fires as we sat down- somehow that took the pressure off. In between fielding texts, we didn't so much catch up as immediately launch into 20-year-old inside jokes, mostly Simpsons related. Between that an an exceptional turkey club, life was a perfect dream.

I don't think it's giving away the city by saying the sky was full of ashes that night. Sorry to be glib about disaster, but the fire sky really added to the overall emo of the situation. We brought out the KN-95s, with all their attendant grief. Our eyes stung and the coral/pink sun was world-endy, but my heart was full of joy and grace anyway. I don't know what's better in this world than parking on grass and moseying toward the gates with strangers of at least three generations, probably four.

BFF Formerly Sweetie walked slow with her walking stick and this was the first time we had to rent chairs instead of sitting our old butts on the grass, but other than those things, the three of us were the three of us again. We picked up our chairs, cocktails to go with the gummies in our tummies, and three matching T-shirts. (Which we did NOT put on! My symmetry brain really wishes I'd made that photo op happen!) KOCF got the new album on vinyl and I got it on CD- I should put it in the car and let it play all fall.

The opening band was Japanese Breakfast! They were dreamy and vibe-y and I liked how their gong was outlined in blue lights.

One of the first songs Death Cab played was This Is the New Year, which made me sob so openly and productively. Partly because I associate it with The Guy Next Door, but mostly because yes, YES! It's not the past. KOCF isn't lost anymore, and long-suffering Sweetie is now relievedly BFF. And we were at a concert, the home-est home you can get while surrounded by strangers. (Oh, boy, do I love strangers sharing a thing. Collective effervescence!!!!)

I promise I wasn't super intoxicated, except maybe by friend love, when my favorite part happened. They were playing Different Names for the Same Thing, and I looked around and saw it- there wasn't really any separation between any of us. Not between us or the chairs or Ben Gibbard or Japanese Breakfast's gong. OMG the Unified Field braving the smoky sky to visit my head this beautiful night. Everything, even the obscured skyline, even all my bitchy mistakes over the years, became unseparated for a little while. Ahh.

When KOCF came to my place to spend the night, I felt a deep carefulness. I want to never not be friends again, want to make sure I don't slip into stupid limerence any more times. I never want him to be not in my life again. The next day, we did ordinary things like go to my neighborhood cafe. I loved having him here. The cats loved having him here. BFF Formerly Sweetie loved having him here. I would please like this friendship to last and last and last: It might just be the best kind of love.

The Perfect Emo Night With King of Carrot Flowers, Part One

 I was panicking in the car when BFF Formerly Sweetie and I were on the way to the train station to pick up King of Carrot Flowers, our best friend from when we were first married, whom we hadn't seen in about twenty years. The feelings were too much! One of the great loves of my twenties, whom I'd (on brand from way back) alienated with a crush. No, by feeling so much love for him that I went around woozy until he very kindly told me he wasn't a sharer. I couldn't accept it and picked a fight I feel very stupid about. It was in like 2006 or 2007 but I was as embarrassed as though no time had past.

"Why did I think this was a good idea?!" sobbed 2026 me. Seeing Death Cab for Cutie with a long lost friendlove?! It was too much, this was terrible, how was I ever gonna get through this? Twenty years of feelings, Snoqualmie Falls-ing out all at once, in a 7-11 parking lot on the way to the train station.

I got myself together and went in to meet his train. (At this train station, I also dropped off Perfectly 1993 guy, in 1994, after a post-breakup visit, bittersweet in a babydoll dress, longjohns, and thrifted combat boots. And these days, it's where I pick up my niece when she comes into town for a concert! I love this train station so much.)

King of Carrot Flowers, when I finally saw him, was exactly the same. The curly red/blonde hair. The striped white shirt he picked up in his travels, with a fish embroidered on the sleeve. A goofy grin promising all the inside jokes from both 20 years ago and recently--everything was there, not lost at all but strolling into my city a little late for lunch.

Knotty Thursday, A Blue Ribbon for Me!

 Friday before last, it was my yearly work evaluation. It was fine! I'm on my way to a fourth year (!) in a job, that's long for me. I lost a few points in the "positivity" category, which felt vexing at first because with a few accommodations in place and way less masking my autism, this was my happiest work year yet! It makes me sad (And enflames my sense of justice!) that maybe the less-masking cost me those (TWO) points, but I'm thinking maybe positivity is something I can let go of a little. Maybe some of my general Polyanna-ing is armor I don't need anymore. Shrug emoji!

Anyway, that night, I wanted to reward myself! A good work year, a lovely new summer job on the horizon, so much peace and growth at every Codependents Anonymous meeting, OCD a much quieter influence--I'm really really proud of myself. I'm glad I gave myself this reward, I really have been the goodest girl! <3 <3 <3

His Name Is Off the Mailbox

 

Thanks, Mountain Goats!

The Guy Next Door is gone. I finally had the courage the other day to retrieve my flower pots that had wandered into his yard. On my side of the border between our places, he left his beleaguered monstera-y plant, with crinkled-up leaves and bent stems. I'm not a healer of plants or men, so I put the plant at the curb for someone the plant has less baggage with to rescue.

It's lonely without him. (The man, not the poor plant.) Even after we stopped talking, he was kind of an imaginary friend. I liked knowing when his car was home, the state slogan on his license plate felt like a comforting/vexing chime in my head. Whoever moves in next won't be like this, I hope, won't get all tangled up--I'll probably only notice them if they're having a particularly loud conversation or smoking on the patio, or if they have a cute pet.

This guy, I was insane about him and insane with him, but the connection still meant something to me. The door that opened between us, that let two messed up minds find comfort in each other, I still think it's a miracle.

In the cold cold depths of winter, when I was still learning not to go to his door, I lit candles for myself in the window, both to ward off the pain and to show myself love. (Also there was an Indivisible directive about window-candles. Mine can't be seen from the street, but they still count.) I hoped the light gave him comfort too, snowday after snowday, but that really wasn't my business.

I'm still figuring out how to thaw. I'm DEEP in my step work and leveling up my family estrangement, trying how to figure out how to treat myself if I am, as I'm beginning to see, worthy of kindness and care. I took a dating break until at least June, but I'm starting to wish and hanker.

When The Guy Next Door showed up last summer with his red cups of hibiscus tea, I was jagged and at sea from last summer's trauma work, from a lifetime of trauma work. He gave me such a pretty spark and distraction, a (kind of fucked up) way to care for myself until I was ready for the next phase of growth and healing.

I imagine him out and about in some beautiful sex-positive frenzy, having all the fun my codependent ass isn't ready for. I imagine him going home to Think About What He's Done. I imagine him joining the life of some more copacetic and traditionally-shaped girl and hitchhiking that life wherever that takes him.

I'll probably never know. I get to stay here and try to be emotionally sober and not get swooshed into any more distractions while I face myself, while I learn to love myself. I miss my friend, whether he was imaginary or not. He doesn't live in my heart forever, I don't think, but I wish him everything good. And I hope someone is taking good care of that plant.

OMG a New Feeling: The Golden Loop

The Flaming Lips: Fight Test

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.

 

Goodbye, Sweet Valentine

 

Sweetpea and a new tiara should arrive tomorrow!

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:

Knotty Thursday: Pool Blue Chain Stitch

 

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. 

Dear Wrestler Is a Gift

 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. :)

Knotty Thursday: Pretty Triangles

 

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!

Borrowed Grief in the Fancy Garden

 

"It's too late to change your mind

you let loss

be your guide."--Broken Bells

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: