Quarantine Crush (Because of Course) Part Five

I feel like I need Liz Lemon to come in here and do a Twenty Year Wrap-Up (Wrap Wrap Wrap-Up) so I can someday finish this story. Let’s see how well I can summarize.

A lot happened in the fall of 2001. I turned twenty-seven, which I’d always thought of as the Cobain birthday, thereby fulfilling an arbitrary and teenage-dramatic goal I’d set for myself. When 9/11 happened, I was both glad to be with my family and fretting my heart out about my California friends. I remember Adorable Co-Host not-unkindly hanging up on me once I’d gone on too long about U.S. imperialism.

I met Sweetie about a month later, and we figured out that we’d been in the same peace vigil on Small East Coast City University’s campus in the days following the towers’ fall.  Fitting, since we’re still vigiling together. Well, not right now, but probably again before too long. (Big East Coast City where we live now is still a red-zone county, so who knows?)

I kept in touch with my CA friends as I started to set up my own poetry life at home. I admit that I was over the moon to be able to walk most places, and I soon was asked to co-host a venue myself, but I piiiiiiiiined for my first family of poets. I missed them so badly that it took a long while for me to like my poems at all, though I did keep writing them. A music, a spark, a sunbeam was missing, and it would take a long while to get that back.

QC and Adorable Co-Host both wrote poems for my and Sweetie’s wedding ceremony. I’m still bowled over that they would’ve come all this way, even if they did have some New England gigs just after. In maybe the most bi moment of my entire life, (Okay, aside from my actual unicorn adventures! Almost forgot!) QC (at my request) held up a boombox Say Anything style as Sweetie and I, with our parents and the bridal party, walked down the aisle of our hometown rose garden. (Though if anyone has ever been holding up the boombox in this story, it’s always, always been me.)

Twenty years with varying levels of keeping in touch. When my book of poetry came out in 2012, I featured at their venue over Skype, so I was oddly prepared for the there/not there of Zoom poetry—lonely and together all at once, talking to friends and reading into the void.

The first time I Zoomed in this spring, I’d been crying/panicking about Zoom every day because of work. I wanted to try something nice with it, a treat. I left the camera off, did my nails, and felt like an interloper, only piping up to applaud. But I got to hear him, beautiful and clear. His was a life and death poem that rumbled through me and overflowed my heart. What choice did I have but to start writing poems again?

Sweetie’s Knack for Ropes Part Two: Nice Safe Room

Getting ready to go out to the rope class and play party last Saturday night, I wonder if Sweetie and I were nuts for going to a play party together. Though we’ve been expanding our repertoire lately, we’ve always treated each other pretty gently in bed. Even a good marriage accumulates its share of sadness and anger, and until recently we’ve been over-careful of keeping hurty or aggressive aspects out of the bedroom. We were both worried that doing a public scene might make us cry.

Also, I was superscared of running into Fireguy and Varga Girl, Varga Girl especially—I know there’s absolutely nothing I can do about her hating me. Sweetie said she would protect me, but I knew there was really nothing she could do, nothing they could do either, for that matter. I wanted to get back out to a party before the fear built up too much, see if I still had a place there.

Packing up my suitcase gave me a little boost of confidence, a little swagger. Especially since I’d packed my favorite fluffy blanket and a pack of fresh socks. Back when he and I had possibilities, Fireguy balked at the idea of me bringing my own blanket, but I think I always will. Only having to depend on Sweetie and myself was comforting and empowering. As I was curling my hair, I declared:

“Know who I’m collared to? This girl.” And pointed to myself. I’m not sure if it’ll be that way forever, but it will for at least a little while.

My fears were dispelled as soon as we walked up the stairs to the banquet room where the party was being held. Sometimes when I walk into a play party, I feel the stress just whoosh out of me, and this was one of those times. There were various pieces of furniture for spanking, tying up, and suspending people arranged all around the room, but to me it just felt peaceful. I walked in and knew Fireguy wouldn’t be there that night, and he wasn’t.

The rope class leader was at the welcome table doing the release-signings. There was a thing on the release saying I couldn’t write about the things that happened there, but he said I’m okay because I don’t use party or person names. Otherwise, I guess Sweetie and I would’ve had to go home and play. Another release, another membership card. I put my mom down as an emergency contact, and so did Sweetie. People looked at us funny for that, but really, if I’m hurt, what’s my mom gonna care where I am. she’d probably just be glad I was there with Sweetie. But also maybe ask me what she used to ask me during my high school mosh pit days—“Why do you like hurting yourself?” Still a good question!

Anyway, The party/class leader is an ex-Marine, but an easygoing, down-to-earth guy’s guy. His energy kind of reminded me of my brother-n-law’s. His partner/bottom, (one of them) a gorgeous brunette about my age, promptly stripped down to her body stocking to help him demo.

There’d been homework that Sweetie hadn’t gotten to work on, the Somerville Bowline knot, but she picked it up quick enough. Most people were suing their own leg to practice on, but I stuck out mine for her. Next to us, not on the same knot, there was a Domme with a very subdued guy for her bottom. She kept tying and re-tying him in different configurations. I heard two words out of him the whole night: “It pinches.” and she responded harshly “I’ll get to it in a minute.”

There was a cute switchy couple practicing their knots on their own legs. Some couples weren’t practicing at all, just snuggling. As I’d seen at other parties, there was a range of ages and sizes—what most people had in common was the fact that they were making lovey-eyes at each other.

When there wasn’t a task at hand, Sweetie looped the ropes around me, practicing. I held out my wrists together and she wove them together looping and pulling through over and over to make a loose and very pretty cuff.

One part of the lesson that I liked was when the teacher said “One thing I always tell you is “Don’t break your toys.” Well, you know one thing that won’t break? Her mouth. You fuck up, she’s telling everybody.”

I don’t know why, but I found that comforting. It made my bratty heart sing.

Next: Our Pretty Pink Scene

Date Update and Reason a Million Why Sweetie is Awesome

So last night was may date with V. First of all, I think I need to change my favorite date spot—it’s where I met Bill and it’s not fair to keep comparing all the other first dates to that one. I am so vexed to find myself still having mentionitis about him-blurgh!

V’s not a romantic match, kind of seems a little young for me even though he’s older. He looks like who I thought my type was before I actually started dating guys, a cute bespectacled hipsterish guy in a striped hoodie-adorable. I’m considering him as an addition to the playpal roster because he’s an excellent brainstormer. When I told him that I’m shy about approaching people at parties he said “well, that wouldn’t matter if you have a partner who ISN’T shy.” He offered to go and get me some more people to play with—so helpful!

When I told Sweetie about this helpful offer, she surprised me by tearing up a little. She said she felt a little sad that she doesn’t have the urge to do that for me. She knew how happy it would make me and felt jealous that she wouldn’t be the one giving me that happiness. Things like this make me love her so much—that she wants to gave me every happiness even in ways she doesn’t want to. I don’t want her to want to do those things. I like her exactly the way she is and I feel like she’s pushed her boundaries enough. That’s what I told her and it did make her feel better. I love her so much. The gold star above is for her perfect telling-me-she-felt-bad and my good listening. Go us.

Back to V: I’m not sure how much time I want to devote to people who are fun but not romantic, but on the other hand, the only way I know to get to the missing Romantic Guy is to have more adventures. So I guess we’ll see what happens.