Calling Out to Myself: A Solo Adventure

One of my Codependents Anonymous friends suggested this and I love it so much. It's hard and takes discipline to love myself instead of focusing on what's lost, but every once in a while I can feel it pay off in progress and peace.

 Last week was a week of continued self care and good decisions, including an inbox abundant with dick pics (One million heart-eyes emojis) and fantasy flirting with all kinds of beautiful dears. None of them ended up suitable for in-person-I'm (mostly) actively trying to avoid any more fuckboys or overly complicated situations, but they were all dear, and they all made me feel glowy and flowy.

So Saturday afternoon, with nothing on the schedule til dancing o' clock, I took myself to bed. Pleasure felt a little out of reach at first, what with intrusive thoughts about how much more desirable Yoga Camp Hottie is than me. Plus, my Rabbit conked out a while back and I'm still getting used to (getting friendly with) my new one.

But I told YCH and her boyfriend to fuck off out of my brain for a while, and got myself to the pink sparkly glowy haze eventually.

And! When I was coming! I cried out:

"I love you! I love you! Oh! I love you!

That's happened with partners before, of course (Especially The Shy One, oh boy!) but I don't usually form ANY words while I'm getting myself off, let alone THOSE words.

It felt like such a release! Like those words had been waiting on my tongue to be hollered out, waiting maybe for a lifetime.

And yes, I was probably saying it to past and recent loves, to the gods and goddesses, to the sky and the trees and the flowers, but the important thing is! I was saying it, sighing it, to me! Oh my goodness!

Sometimes the feeling of having to love myself feels frustrating and lonely, but on good days, it makes me feel treasured, important, chosen. All those things I'm absolutely desperate to get from men, that keep me away from the men probably, I'm able to give myself. It was real. I heard myself breathe out the words in pleasure.

I love you.

Typing that gave me a warmth that started in my belly/soul and spread outwards. Maybe someday a partner will meet me in this place of self-love, but for now I'm happy and curious to practice on my own. Just like I practice my ropes! :)

Catsitting Was Service and It Felt Good.

 While I care for myself and keep not knocking on his door, some of the things I felt during my near-romance with The Guy Next Door deserve attention. I feel like the memories don't quite belong to me yet, like I'm still waiting for him to sign off on them by liking me back, which he doesn't. But it was still real.

On Christmas leftovers night, when he was "ready to try snuggling," I took his hand and placed it on top of my head. I expected it to feel comforting, of course, but I didn't expect to fall down a very cozy well of subbiness! I felt the switch flip and he became Him.

In Codependents Anonymous, we are definitely not supposed to let other people be our Higher Power. That's supposed to be benevolent but big and all-encompassing and largely unknowable. This feeling might have been that, but it was also the opposite- play! A role I haven't played in such a long time, and suddenly there I was. Little. Cared for. Humble. Chosen.

So when he asked me to watch Cat Next Door while he was away for New Years, it didn't feel like it sometimes feels now, like he was having his to-him-unfuckable friend watch his place while he was out of town seeing Yoga Camp Hottie. That was what was happening, but it didn't feel bad at all! Most of the week!

I said I'd be honored to watch his place, and I meant it.

The first time I went over, Cat Next Door was relaxing on TGNS's bed. The bed was spare and the bedding white, very yoga camp. I sat on the floor next to the bed to pet the cat and felt woozy with love. I wanted to crawl into bed with the cat and cuddle, but that felt like a creepy thing for a catsitting neighbor to do. He later said it would've been fine, but then, he later said a lot of things.

Every moment, crushing Cat Next Door's meds into his tuna breakfast and supper, washing the plates and spoons, just sitting in TGNS's chair keeping the cat company while read my audiobook and inhaled the scent of man and sandalwood, it all felt like I was honored to serve him. I'm sure that was not his intention at all, but that's what happened.

I looked at my art and Tarot cards front and center on his fridge door, and I felt he's mine and I'm his. When I left the porch light on for myself and locked the door for the night, I felt in my place. Where I belonged.

Submissive or no, I don't do neighbor-favors half-assed, so though he'd told me I didn't have to scoop the litterbox, I sure did! Kneeling in front of it doing objectively the worst chore, I felt peaceful, seen. Even though it was SO STINKY! 

He's an old cat who misses a lot and there was a pink towel in front of the litterbox that got soaked with pee by the end of the week. I took it home and washed it with a heart full of love and hope.

I'd told him I was having subby feelings after our first cuddle, but I don't think he ever really got how badly I wanted to serve him.

I'm telling you this to honor my submissive self- it was so lovely to see her. I hope she'll be around again soon, in much happier and healthier circumstances. It just felt so good.

Untangling Thursday: Grief and Slutty Joy

 

Next week I hope to be back to my ropes routine, but I really like this picture and what it means! A horny surge of health!

Every once in a while, I get in a real Downton Abbey place, like, if I can be chaste and proper enough, this will work out. Maybe it's a fetish, or maybe it's just a tendency to ignore and deny the forward motion of my heart. To discount desire in favor of some lofty thing somebody else likes. No matter why, it takes me to a place of deep self loathing, of too much. Honestly after the tangle with The Guy Next Door, I thought my unfuckability was etched in stone.

But it turns out, when I'm not Detective Pikachu-ing a messy boy's mercurial intentions, when I'm alone in my bed with the apps and my camera, desire sparkles in so easily! And the apps did not disappoint, as one guy after another invited himself over, today, soon, right now, "Between 3 and 4:30," and the straightforwardness of being embodied and being wanted made me wet and started the healing.

Of course none of them have been over yet, but one's on the calendar: Video Star. Ohboy I don't know how his big fat perfect dick is even real, but I aim to find out if I can. Last night he sent a video of him soaping up in the shower, sudsing his enormousness with just the most cocky (ha) look on his face. Fucking transcendent. 

He has been rewarded with all kinds of Hidden Folder treats, and I've been brazen enough to send videos too! That's how I found out that my pubic hair is going grey! He still said I had a pretty pussy though, and asked for more.

So, I'm sad without The Guy Next Door. I miss him and I hope, through whatever fog he's in, he misses me too. I've promised several friends I wouldn't loop back, not that he's asking me to. I don't want to ignore myself any more times. I don't ever want to pretend I don't feel what I feel, never not ever again.

It might be a long time until love arrives again, who knows. But joy? Desire? Playfulness? Already here again, thank goodness.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Five: Enough.

There might be lots to worry and wonder about another day, but for now...

I tried so hard to be his friend and he wanted to get to attraction to please me, but I felt love and he felt friendship. I could comb the story for clues and reassurances, but.

We liked being around each other. There was some kind of spark. We had a great date and he didn't want to kiss me.

I could see it as tragic or damning or proof that I'm unkissable, but what happened was just...dating. It hurts worse because we genuinely liked and got to know each other, but still, it's as simple as:

Not a match.

All this week I've been in a hum of self-care, touching base with my friends and my breaths and my Twelve Steps. My OCD quieted almost immediately after we said goodbye.

The Monday after the date, in that doomed and meltdowny but ultimately helpful conversation, I did tell him I love him, and I'm glad. People should know when they're loved. Now, I'm trying my best to love myself.

I feel anger and shame at myself for being so openhearted, but I hope someday I won't. I remember how much I used to value my wholeheartedness, and I would like to value it again. I would like to treat my heart like it's worthy of healthy, happy love. Not like it deserves this:

It's not post-blue-box Mulholland Drive over here, I probably won't be disappeared in a floof of blue smoke. It's just sad. I'm afraid to really grieve because what if the grief is forever? What if I can never get free of the sadness because he is RIGHT THERE all the time? I guess I can't know how long the pain will last, but it's better to feel it than keep hurting myself. Better to cry than to live in a fantasy.

Thanks for reading me through this, friends. I know-

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Four

I kept being surprised at how much time he wanted to spend over here! He came over the night after Christmas for music and leftovers, and it was my favorite night of this whole story.

Because of the Saddest Little Sound in the World, I'd resolved to keep us at the friendly table rather than trying the nebulous-meaninged couch. We had warmed-up turkey and potatoes. We listened to his playlist, which was enough like mine to be good and enough different to breathe new life into the place.

When we got to a welllll what should we do now place, I pulled out the Tarot cards and we played. I pulled out three or four different decks and we read each other the explanations or just made things up. One of the decks came with discussion questions, so the talk got deep. It was this incredibly wholesome feeling of enjoyment and peace and, for me, falling deeper in love.

After that perfect while, he said he would like to try cuddling! So we set up his laptop full of Bob's Burgers-es, dimmed the lights, and approached the couch. It felt awkward, like neither of us had ever cuddled before in our lives! But we figured it out.

I asked if he'd like a regular blanket or a weighted one, and he chose weighted. Settling into his arms felt like a WOOSH of bliss, like a relief, a coming-home. He held my hand in his long and beautiful hand. We both did a lot of sighing.

But also, he talked about Oxytocin, which made me wonder whether I was being a person right now or a drug. Why not both, I guess?

I took his hand and placed it on top of my head, then felt my whole being go quiet. It had been so long since I felt it--submission. The feeling of being precious and small and protected, of being, in my heart at least, adored.

I kept thinking, this is what I pictured when I met him. Just cuddling on the couch watching shows. In the original fantasy, we were watching Twin Peaks, but otherwise, this was exactly what I'd known would happen. I read a thing somewhere that falling in love fast is a sign of emotional intelligence, and that doesn't seem quite right, but the feeling of I just knew was so beautiful. I felt everything fit together in such a profound way. It felt so good I almost needed a break from it, but I didn't take one.

I could have laid like that for a hundred hours, but he was ready to go after a couple of episodes.

"Ahhh human contact," he said as we were hugging goodbye, making me wonder once again whether I was a specific human to him or just a convenient warm body. Thank goodness I didn't say that in the moment!

Knotty Thursday But Vague Tarot

 Yesterday was a beautiful and maybe-too-urgent self-care day. I caught up with friends, took an unseasonably warm sunny walk. I decluttered a couple shelves I've been dying to declutter-very satisfying!

I did put on a simple rope corset over my nightgown last, but I wanted it to be just for me. I sat down and spaced out with the cards a while. It felt a little like being a poet, exploring through without much aim and without really expecting them to tell me anything. Or rather, for me to tell myself anything inspired by the images. 

Temperance keeps coming up, and The Dancer. I've got a couple dance parties on the cal, so that's good.

Not too long after the cards, I got so sick! Don't know if it was a bad gummy or food poisoning or just a catharsis or a hangover from Christmas love/stress or all of those things. Physically I'm doing okay this morning, but lost is the prevailing emotion still.

Poly Feelings and Christmas Cute With The Guy Next Door, Part Three

 Before I leave the cute art night, I just want to remember the feeling of stapling up silk flowers with my sweet doomed crush while he sings "Do you realize?" in the sparkly Christmas Eve night. Two angels doing angel stuff, nothing can change that.

For Christmas, I'd originally invited TGNS to come over after dinner, for Scrabble with me and BFF-Formerly-Sweetie. But he kind of hinted that he wanted to come over earlier, so I invited him for dinner too.

(Things were different between BFF and I, this guy around. She was so cool about including him in Christmas, she was remarkably un-grumbly about him over all, which was new. She was so copacetic about it that it kind of freaked me out, like was she REALLY ready to let me go? That was beautiful but also so sad and scary too! What would our friendship be like if I had another Person around? Would it go away? Would we lose the bond we've built with each other post divorce, just because of some guy? I MAY have cried on the floor about this not too long ago, and I'm glad.)

The Guy Next Door was not on time for dinner, so I went over and got him. He came over like such a good boy all excited because he'd just downloaded a bunch of Bob's Burgers episodes for us to binge after family time was over.

He gave me a card with Monet's Water Lilies that said I was delightful, and that word made me inordinately happy because ever since he'd encouraged me to chat with the delightful Girl Next Door, I wanted to be delightful too. And here I was! I had it in writing.

Scrabble was so fun! BFF had admonished us to at least try to beat her, and we did respectably! 

The warmth and glow of that evening helps me understand what made TGNS want to cling to me, "conventionally attracted" or not. I remember when I was in my divorce process--connection and warmth felt so unattainable, I clung to it in any way I could. I feel so much compassion for where he's at, and I really, REALLY wanted to make his pain go away. Because I am codependent and taking care of people is my addiction! A fact I'm glad to have remembered yesterday.

After BFF went home, it was time for me and TGNS to try the couch again. I made my own little nest on one end, and he sat in my usual spot. I put a pillow wall between us so I wouldn't spook the poor timid boy, but after a while, I asked if I could put my head on his shoulder, and he said yes. Goodbye pillow wall!

"I won't try anything untoward," I said, and he made the saddest little sound. Maybe I should take up poetry again so I can give Saddest Little Sound its due, but I'm honestly so sick of this obsession.

What I see now looking back on that night is someone who really, REALLY wanted to want what I want, so we could have harmony. I wanted the same! I wanted to let him be timid and hesitant and reluctant and whatever else he was feeling.

But it felt bad, the pain he seemed to feel with every step forward. I can try to understand it, turn it over and over to try and figure out what he really wanted from me, but again, sick of the obsession.

It felt bad when he left at like 8:30 instead of commencing the promised binge. I resolved to set my sights on friendship and start letting the Other Stuff go.

(Meanwhile, while I'm typing this, I heard him screaming in anger next door, hopefully not at the cat! Can I go steal the cat?! Only sort of kidding.)