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. :)
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!
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:
Good morning sunbeams! Last night was so lovely, I just got all cozy and confined and read some books in bed. I love the ritual of making this time for myself--lighting candles and burning rose incense. Not even music this time, just me and the ropes.
I didn't feel like looking anything up, but this felt like a good way to keep practicing my chain stitch. And! I can do an alpine loop without looking it up now! For the most part! Somewhat-daily knot practice is paying off.
I still miss Sweet Valentine so much, it's hard not to rehearse for rejection or reach out and try to get his attention. Giving us both space to reflect is kind and loving, but I hate it and wish it could be over already. I hate living in uncertainty, but it's very good for me to practice. I guess if my heart misses him all month long, that's some information for me.
I have the dating apps paused for now too--not because I'm waiting for him (I'm kind of waiting for him.) but because I don't want to do the addictiony thing of trying to "fix" one set of feelings with another. I want to be present with myself and feel all the things! Mostly I want to feel trust and self-love. Sometimes I even feel serene.
Lastly guess what! I ordered longer, goddess-sized ropes! They're turquoise and should arrive on Friday! I can't believe it's taken me this long to realize it would be nice to have bigger ropes for my great big body! That feels like love.
Last night I was in an online Codependents Anonymous meeting with a handful of strangers and we were talking about the feeling of floating, the moments when it feels like Higher Power has us and we can just cruise along and accept the gifts. I admitted that lately, when I'm in that good floaty place is when I tend to make my love mistakes. But then I realized! Maybe they weren't mistakes! Maybe my soul knows what it's doing and I don't understand it yet!
For now, I'm not going to try and understand it. I'm just gonna celebrate Sweet Valentine and hope for the best.
The night before Valentine's Day, I went to the little shop down the block to get roses and vegan cupcakes for my new dear. I hoped he would bring presents, but I wanted to make sure presents were there. One thing I'm extremely certain about is that such a cute connection deserved to be celebrated.
On Saturday mornings, I'm usually playing games and listening to The Flop House, so that's what I did. I told him to text when he was on his way, that the door was unlocked. I felt both like a human and like a fantasy, made of something between bones and lace. When I was younger and more pretentious, I used to describe myself as diaphanous, and that kinda works here--grounded and floating. See-through and also (maybe a little too) real.
I was working away on my Animal Crossing island when he arrived, smelling of him. He came right into bed and we kissed and cuddled, folded into each other like he'd been there all along. "I missed you before I met you, " I said. Princess of saying stuff.
(I forgot to tell you about a moment from our Wednesday date, when I told him he had some of my purple face glitter on him, and he rubbed his face against mine to get more, like he wanted to cover himself in me. I felt exactly the way a sentient cupcake might feel when it's getting devoured with gusto. In the wise words of Lizzo, Lick the icing off, put the rest in your face.)
There's something about his presence that hooks me in at the middle, at the crux of my being. He makes me feel safe and seen, like he has me. I felt like I could relax and be myself and not second-guess every move I made. Really, there didn't need to be much thinking at all, just wise and beautiful bodies carrying us through the day.
When he was wrapped around me, I felt home. When I was kneeling in my cozy bow-down-to-Love-Itself spot looking up at him sitting on my bed, I felt tiny and treasured. He called me Princess, and I felt him mean it. I asked him to be my boyfriend, and after clarifying what that would entail, he agreed. I felt absolutely confident asking, but from a couple weeks away, it feels insane.
Friends, I miss him so, so much. I'm giving him time and space to figure things out, giving myself time and space to see what I really want. There's three more weeks left of that time and right now, here's how I feel:
I will be so, so sad if I don't get to keep getting to know him, but I want to give him the space I promised. For myself, I want to keep heartspace for partners with more time, more surety, more bandwidth, but right now, I just want him. I want a chance to start over and take our time, to step back into the flow of him, to someday be part of his life. I want to take walks and hold hands.
I know I'm usually more explicit with the sex part, but for right now I want to keep it to myself, and for him.
How would anyone understand things without Mary Oliver?
Like a lot of people with Relationship OCD and probably non-divergent daters as well, I struggle with the time between the first date and the second. The uncertainty is hard, yes, but my brain always wants to rehearse for the eventual ghosting or other kind of rejection. I have to be ready to say goodbye perfectly, because if I don't, I feel shame. To react anything less than magnanimously to rejection feels like a violation of consent, like I'm impinging on the person's bodily autonomy. As with many things, OCD makes fraught things fraughter, and I would like it to please pipe down.
I had no hesitation about asking him out for Valentine's morning though, it just felt right! Like, we're both cute and horny and full of spiritual love, why not do the traditional Valentine things? We deserve it!
But then. The plan-making process. The waiting-to-hear-back! I started to wonder if I'd sabotaged our chances by picking such a pressureful day. Maybe I did! Or maybe our chances are just what they are.
As soon as the plan was made, the time was chosen, I felt like going all in. I felt like Aphrodite in my Valentine's Eve dress at school. I was g l o w i n g with hope, joy, and confidence. I even thanked Blue Ribbon Work Crush for being the greatest work crush of all time--going on three years! We had a little whirlwind of cute before going back to our normal high fives and safe little flirts.
I worried that Sweet Valentine would think I was cliche if he showed up and I was in red lingerie with a bouquet of multicolored roses and some chocolate cupcakes, but also, this is our one and only life, and it was Valentine's Day. It might have artificially raised the stakes, but I wouldn't trade that morning-to-afternoon for anything in this world. But if crashing into each other like waves made it so I wouldn't get to keep getting to know him, I'm sorry about it too.
It feels painful to think of writing about the sweetness and hotness and rightness of that day, not knowing what will become of him and me, not knowing where this break-to-reflect will take us. But I'll write it in good hot faith when I'm ready, I promise.
I passed The Guy Next Door in the driveway this morning and he said three words: "I'm moving out." My main feeling about this is relief, with a healthy dose of the Universe loves me! But I also feel guilty and sad and I have the continuing sensation of waking up and realizing it was all a (sometimes bad) (mostly bad?) dream. I don't miss him like I used to, but I miss how much room he took up in my heart.
The first night we hung out, when he talked about creating a garden "for us both to enjoy," I saw an entire adorable future for us: Together but living in our respective apartments, meeting on his patio for tea. Having just the cutest story about how we got together. And finally, finally, being able to give up the quest for love! Because I found it right outside my door!
I've always had a vivid romantic imagination, but this was different. I'm scared about how much it felt like I "knew" he was the right one for me. I guess if I'd been right I could call it intuition, but as things are, I'm tempted to call it delusion. But I don't think I got there on my own.
(The day of the last date, he said a parallel to the "for us both to enjoy" thing, he said he wanted to knock out a wall in his place so we could have breakfast on my terrace in the mornings. I like leaving the terrace nature-y for the birds, but what a nice idea!)
I remember laying in bed that first night feeling ELATED, feeling sure that he would stay here and be weird with me forever.
In the end, I felt like we were a cult of two, caught on a roller coaster of shared madness. (Codependent Crazy, my sponsor would call it.) After our break-off I looked up his (stated) diagnosis, Bipolar 2, and it described exactly what I'd been through with him--unpredictable moods, various degrees of lying, cycles of happiness and misery. It helped me to understand a little, to give myself compassion about it, but it doesn't explain why I made the choices I did.
I could sit here and list his lies and red flags as evidence I got gaslit, tricked. But the important thing is--I chose him! And then re-chose him! So I'm asking myself, what made the fantasy so powerful?
Maybe it's as simple as a desire to fall in love and still keep my apartment? Maybe it's my porous nervous system and mirror neurons taking my brain to the mercurial place where his brain lives? Or maybe my dang soul just thought I could learn a lot from getting tangled up in him! I sure did!
Maybe I was lonely and needed a friend just as badly as he did!
I like my fantasy brain and plus, it's an autistic trait so I refuse to shame myself for it! But I'm afraid to sweep myself up into something so one-sided and shifting ever again. I know I can create beauty and romance out of pretty much anything, but I don't want to do it on my own, independently of reality. That's what art is for, not relationships.
It's snowing again and I'm using all of my self-care/hunkering down skills, lighting candles and feeling all the feelings, being where I really am.
I think part of my TGNS journey was about wanting to escape my own life, wanting to evade whatever growth and pain and love I'm finding on my own.
Or, I just loved him. He was my friend and I miss him, and I miss the idea of him I made up in my head. Both. I'm never gonna sort out the real from the imagined, the lies from the information, the throwing-away-art from the making of art in the first place.
These days I'm supposed to be all twelve-steppy and put things in the care of my higher power, so that's what I'm doing. My HP and his will have to figure this out. In this case, I think, the Higher Power might just be time.
