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. :)