A Veto and a Happy Accident, Part One: A Dream and the Part that Sucked

So before I slog through the cry-my-heart-out-about-the-Cutest-Boy-at-the Party part of yesterday, I have to backtrack to about a month ago, to a dream about a different guy. One morning I had a dream that Steampunk Guy and I were at the same event, gathered around watching something happen. Unsure of how to approach him, I decided to simply crawl into his lap. He told be he was glad that I’d stopped keeping things at arm’s length. After that, things were (in the dream) resolved and I wasn’t abstaining from him anymore. I woke up with such a warm feeling of well-being.

Later that day, in real life, I was goofing around in my facebook inbox and found, in that silly “other messages” folder, a message from him from when we first met. I friended him and that’s (somewhat paradoxically) how I started to feel like we were actual friends. It’s easier to have perspective about someone when he’s busy pressing “like” like all the other human beings.

Anyway, so that’s some foreshadowing for the awesome part of the story (During which, I swear, I meet and play with a girl who has “Awesome” tattooed on her wrist.) but first I need to plow through some nonsense I was foolish enough to put myself through.

A few weeks ago, I gave myself this gold star for breaking things off with the Cutest Boy at the Party because his relationship wasn’t in a place where he could have playpals. It was exactly the right choice and if I’d had enough faith and willpower I would’ve stuck to it, except that I missed him too much after I’d stopped him from texting.

Once my feelings for him simmered down (I thought) from five-alarm crush to potential someday play partner, I got us back into the habit of texting, and we both got us back into the habit of flirting. We joked about taking the sexTARDIS to a time when we could play. One day he let me know he’d be alone for the evening and I instigated a pretty wonderful sexting session. The boy is a very gifted writer, and though he’s never touched any of my pink parts, he makes me wetter than anyone else does. (He was also a loyal reader, which means he knows which buttons to push.) It was so much fun that, when I got to the gym afterwards, I made the receptionist lady high-five me.

I knew I wanted more than texting though, real life rather than the sexTARDIS. (Of which, I’m proud to say, I was unquestionably the driver.) But we kept texting all day every day, and he got me through a 12-hour workday by talking about being my slutty Companion and suggesting I hit on the parents at Back to School night. One evening he just called for no reason, and though that felt like it might be progress toward real life, I also suspected he was sneaking the call.

Yesterday, I was enjoying my day off and reveling in the newest Chuck Klosterman book, feeling decadent with free time on my one day off this week. It was the first time I’d been alone and not-moving all week and it felt AMAZING. Three texts came from CBATP, unusual for a Saturday. (By the way, Dear Couples: All-weekend radio silence is for the birds. Best, Single Poly Girl) He said she was still jealous and still didn’t want to play with anyone else, and didn’t want him to either. I offered again to stop flirting, and he said yes, that would be best.

There were absolutely no high-fives in this breakup-type-thing, friends. (There needs to be a name for breakups of things that are not things yet.) He was doing the exact right thing and he said he still hoped to be play partners some day, he just didn’t want to lead me on or hurt me. Too late, pal.

I called him crying like a complete fool.

“I guess I just want to say goodbye.”

“No! No goodbye!”

He said he still wanted to be friends but I knew there was no way I could keep in touch with him without keeping the fantasies going for myself. He just turns me on so completely, and apparently turns my heart on too. Goddamn these boyfriend material guys who are not for me.

Anyway, I pointed out in kind of a not-nice way that we aren’t friends, that we were something else, and it was a real and good something else. I told him that I hated that one person got to decide for the three of us whether that potential got followed. His answer was vexing, predictable, and stabby: “Because I love her.”

Of course he loves her! Why the fuck should that preclude him liking me?! Why is this a reason to throw away a perfectly nice girl with everything to offer? My poly brain will never fully understand it.

Poly-tease couples are becoming my one of my very least favorite things. It happened earlier this year, too, during the time the blog was off. A nice Swinger couple got me all in a tizzy for them and then they decided they weren’t ready even to just go to stuff with me. I was superpissed then and I felt bad for getting mad. I know I should be all “Thank you for taking care of yourself.” whenever there’s a no, but I can’t always pull it off.  Seriously, couples who are just thinking about opening up: Get your shit together before you get my fantasy-engines going. Grrrowr.

I pointed out that at no point in the past two weeks had he acted like someone who was unavailable, but that is not quite true. He said he’s been trying to make it okay on his end but it just wasn’t working. Oddly his girl offered me snuggles around the same time on Fet, so I don’t think he actually TOLD her who he was being a no-go with. I think I may have been vetoed without even having been named in the conversation. Or maybe I wasn’t vetoed at all and he was just using her as an excuse.

We didn’t hang up the phone on good terms. I was pissed at him for dumping me and for messing with my party swagger for the evening. I said jealous things I’m really not proud of. After we got off the phone, I cried so hard that I thought I’d implode.

It was only a few weeks and we never even kissed in real life (And I think only once in a text…) but that combination of that really intense and beautiful aftercare and the all-day-every-weekday conversations got me invested in a way that left me surprised and devastated.

But in the end, I’m glad I let myself get giddy for him. I’m glad I drove us through all those conversations and imaginary adventures, even though it wasn’t strictly the right thing to do. Usually when a thing gets broken off, I delete all the texts first thing, watch the little yellow progress bar count through them as they go, but I’m putting that off for a little while. He was special, and I’m sad he was gone.

Next: I put on pretty underpants and head for Old Timey Guy’s.

First Single-Girl Dungeon Night Part Two: Some Backtracking, Some Good Bad Influences, and Some Plastic Wrap

Though he doesn’t do much in this story besides be pleasantly in the room, I think now’s a good time to backtrack to when I reconciled with Fireguy. The first time we spent together was when he took my author photo, so when the book came out last summer I mailed him a copy, along with a looooong love letter. In the letter, I apologized for my part in our fight and let him know the feelings I’d gotten for him. (How many versions of this letter will I write in my lifetime? At least maybe I’ve gotten past the breakup fight aspect?) Even though I had him blocked in nearly every possible way, he still found a way to get through to thank me for the letter and tell me he was proud of me for the book. Of course I got a little thrill from him being proud.

We didn’t run into each other in person for another six months or so. When I saw we were both in the RSVPs for a Regular Dungeon night back in January, I decided it was time to go ahead and unblock him. I emailed him to touch base and ask if he might be able to bring the cupcake taker I’d left at his house the previous April. (Man, that was an awesome cupcake taker. I really miss it.) When we saw each other at that January party, Sweetie said he and I both turned into Muppets upon seeing each other. While I stood around post-scene with Sweetie’s ropes on, Fireguy and I got the chance to apologize to each other in person. We both expressed regret that we couldn’t jump in the sexTARDIS and do things differently.

Anyway, I say all that just to say he was one of the people I was glad to see last Saturday night. Even though our playing-together time is over, I still really like playing where he can see me and watching him set other nice ladies on fire.

I also had the unexpected pleasure of running into V,a one-date guy from last year, and his superpretty (queer!) girlfriend. Even though they aren’t a match for me playwise, I was so happy to add them both to my collection of good bad influences. They egged me on and watched me play the whole night and I loved showing off for them. Maybe I’m just collecting pals to show off to right now, that’s a good project!

While I was mulling over what to do for Naughty Thing #2,  I stood in my favorite spot, a raised area at the back of the room, watched all the wonders going on around me and did a good job of reaching my chatting goal. It was hot in there so I ditched the nightie and stripped down to my bra and undies, white with pink polka dots and hot pink lace, respectively.

Probably I should branch out from just playing with people I already know, but when Old-Timey Guy brandished a giant roll of plastic wrap, I shrugged and said “Why not?” Though I’m usually averse to plastic, the restraint aspect seemed right. Plus, this is a time for trying new things.

“If you do a good jo—ob you’ll get a flog—ging!” He said in his silly singsongy voice as he made me spin around and around to wind the plastic. Eventually I got dizzy and made him do the winding. My arms were behind my back, hands to elbows. His other playpal for the night (Besides Punk Rock Girl, of course) was an adorably affable Asian girl (I’ll call her Other Ribbons, since she loves them as much as I do.) and she very kindly held my glasses for me.

I was bound from my shoulders to my ankles, so that I could only move my feet a teensy bit. I was trapped and sweating, a little scared but going with the fear. An onlooker helpfully suggested that Old-Timey guy move me away from the stairs, lest I should fall. One new guy was for some reason walking around with a spatula, and I let him give me a few whacks. He had to hit me really hard in order for me to feel it through the plastic. The spatula gave me a heart-pang since that was Sweetie’s implement of choice at home.

Next Time: Punk Rock Girl and the device.