The other night, Pup tied my wrists with rope, secured them to the headboard, and proceeded to fuck me with my knees bent up to my chest.
The knots were rather loose. So when we finished and Pup said goodnight, turned off the bedside lamp and rolled over without untying me, I wasn’t remotely worried about not being able to get out. But I decided to pursue it. “Hey,” I pouted.
“Yep?”
“You’re going to leave me this way?” I asked.
Pup snorted. “You could get out of that in a minute or two. I’ve seen you get out of much worse.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Do you want me to let you out, then?” Pup asked.
“No, but…”
“Damn it, woman,” Pup joked. “Make up your mind.”
I hesitated. I didn’t want him to let me out, but I didn’t want him to admit it would be so easy to get out. I guess I wanted him to gloat about it, maybe? But it’s weirdly hard for me to communicate the whole “I want to adamantly pout and say no even though I’m really enjoying this” thing.
Which I think might tie in with the fact that I struggle to ask for what I want and just end up hoping that my partner will just, you know, guess completely accurately. Which is incredibly unsustainable, I know, but sometimes I’m just entirely too shy or embarrassed to articulate what I really want.
As I’ve said before, Saltine was eighteen years old when I met them. And as I’ve said before, I don’t like to date people that young.
I had genuinely no problem with Pup going out with them, but I had zero intentions of getting involved. I found Saltine pretty childish in the few interactions I had with them, in the way that I was when I was their age. Precocious but still young, too smart for their own good. So, on the one hand, I could relate, but on the other I was like ok mama has no time to get mixed up with this child.
After Pup and Saltine hooked up, I ran into Saltine at a munch. I had been perfectly prepared to be cordial. I was happy Pup was getting out there since his breakup, and I was glad things were going well.
But Saltine came on super strong, in a way that was so blunt it was alarming. When they’d walked away, my friend said kiddo needed to chill out. I had to agree.
However, Saltine most definitely did not chill out. And Pup, kind of new to the practice of dating two individuals and calling neither one of them a primary, was not yet accustomed to setting boundaries. So the night I came over to meet Pup’s good friend, guess who was already at his house and on his couch: Saltine.
I shouldn’t have felt entitled to anything, but I did. I’d seen Pup through a pretty big breakup. We’d been seeing each other for almost five months at that point. And then there was just this person traipsing in for what my traditional little brain had categorized as a pretty big milestone: meeting the best friend.
So I was annoyed, but I thought if I vocalized that I’d come across as thewet blanket or selfish. Especially with Saltine being so down for stuff. They’d been interested in hooking up with me, and I had not returned that interest. They were clearly easier to deal with on paper: down for threesomes, down with hanging out all together like this. I needed time. I needed fair warning. If I was going to show up somewhere and Saltine was going to be there, I needed to know ahead of time. Saltine proably didn’t need that.
And so intestead of taking care of myself and asking Pup to talk in the next room, I decided to turn on way too much shade and basically ignore Saltine. I just spoke directly to Pup’s friend, and after his friend had left, I whipped out a book from my bag and started reading it on the couch rather than attempting to engage Saltine in any kind of conversation.
To make matters only worse, there was a play party coming up. I lived a convenient distance from the venue, and so Saltine asked if we could all go to my place after and just sleep over. I also had, as it turned out, the biggest bed.
Dumbfounded and not wanting to be the partypooper, I agreed. But internally I was kicking myself like mother of fuck what did I just agree to.
Eventually, and I honestly do not know how it happened, but Pup and Saltine wound up on the couch with my while I started reading. And then Saltine ended up taking Pup’s cock out or maybe Pup just took his cock out? I genuinely do not remember. But basically the two of them were pretty hot and bothered and bursting with new relationship energy and I was like
Bottom line, I should have been assertive. But I wasn’t. And instead of even just asking them to stop or going home, I told them to keep going and that I didn’t want to ruin their fun. Which was totally stupid on my part, but I was pretty insecure abut the whole thing. Saltine was young and hot and exciting, down for just about anything. I didn’t want to be the boring one. It’s hard not to feel like everything is going to be a comparison.
So I literally gave the okay to them having sex while I was there. And it was so weird. Because I was essentially this dog:
It wasn’t until the next day until all the feelings came flooding to the surface and I found words for them. And I ended up texting Pup novel after novel of upset and anger and outrage. Saltine was not sleeping at my house, I said. And if Saltine was at his place when I was coming over, he’d better tell me. How dare the two of them impose upon me like that and make me feel as if I were the eternal partypooper if I didn’t go along with every ridiculous plan or impulse, I’d said. Pup apologized and promised he’d establish better boundaries, though I conceded that I should have articulated my discomfort better.
After that, all that was left was to talk to Saltine. We made a plan for coffee later that week. Naturally, I was freaked out. But more on that later.
Yesterday, I had difficult, vulnerable talks with both of the dudes in my life about all the crazy stuff like expectations and whatnot. Those of you who know me know that I am terrified of communication and vulnerability, so I wasn’t exactly chomping at the bit to do this. But, both of these talks turned out really, really positively, and I was clear about what I wanted and needed, and I felt much closer to both of them as a result. So, go me for doing the scary thing. Twice.
I wish I could say my trip to see Sir over Thanksgiving was start-to-finish splendid. At the beginning, the whole thing was a little strained. I arrived the night before Thanksgiving in a terribly delayed flight, and then the next afternoon we had to go our separate ways to see our respective families. I got home at about seven, he didn’t get home until much later and I was too tired to do much of anything.
We watched a movie and he made drinks, so I was then way too tired and tipsy to do anything in our dynamic or have sex. And though I wasn’t trying to then, I had been generally evasive about our dynamic since I had arrived, and Sir had clearly picked up on it. Lying in bed, we proceeded to have an argument about how there was something off, we weren’t falling into whatever natural thing we usually did, I was resisting something.
“It’s just that…” I stammered out, and I felt myself start to cry. “So, like, I feel like I’m developing feelings for Pup beyond like sort of just being like fuckbuddies or occasional play partners and so I feel like I’ve been carrying this around since I went on that trip and that I haven’t been able to tell you because I didn’t want you to feel like I was just trying to sub him out for you because that isn’t it.”
It’s weird how – in a relationship complicit in allowing us to date other people – I was ashamed to admit I actually liked those people. I felt like I had somehow betrayed him by letting myself actually care about Pup, and so I was tip-toeing around everything to avoid it.
"I told you to be careful,” Sir said, I realized he misunderstood. “This is what happens when you get vulnerable with people, you have to be careful.”
“No, stupid, he likes me back. I think.” I proceeded to explain the conversations Pup and I had been having. The fact that while I was away on that trip, I’d gotten drunk and went to text him saying I missed him, only to find that he had sent me a text like that, and wound up having this awkwardly frank conversation about liking each other. “You’re not mad, right?”
Sir cracked a smile, “so, sweetheart’s got a little crush, huh?”
I felt like something had been exorcised from the room.
“It’s hard to communicate anything exactly and that’s why perfect relationships between people are difficult to find.” ― Gustave Flaubert, Sentimental Education.
I’m seeing Sir in a week, which I am so excited for.
We had a talk last night where we went over some of the tough stuff about distance and the state of the relationship. And one of the things we agreed on, oddly enough, was that we wanted to get to a point where finally seeing each other doesn’t just mean two or three days straight of sex.
So, we made some plans for this trip that involve doing stuff with our clothes on, like going on a double date with That Guy from My Frat and The Redhead.
Penthouse and Craftsmate texted me the night before Christmas Eve to inform me that they had a long, valuable, civil conversation and effectively communicated how they were feeling.
I guess being mean to me helped them bond a little bit. Both said the whole thing on the couch was the best, surprisingly least awkward part of the day.
So, I sent them both a text after receiving positive reviews almost simultaneously from each about the other, essentially expressing that they were impressed with the others’ maturity about the whole thing and how well their conversation had went.
All’s well that ends well, I suppose. Even if hyping this birthday orgy is cruel and unusual, it was a lovely present to have things run smoothly.
Followers, this whole poly thing is very new to me.
There was a lot of stuff unsaid and just a lot of stuff we couldn’t say because Penthouse’s family was hanging around. Stuff as simple as the fact that I was wearing the clamps, which Craftsmate figured out anyway, to the issues that had come up. Of course, the moment we all couldn’t speak freely, I suddenly decided I could handle communication. Usually, the idea of it makes me a little nauseous. I’m a bit too eager to avoid conflict.
So, there we were on the couch. Craftsmate had his arm around me and Penthouse was holding my hand. It was this weird moment where I realized just how new to this I am and just how much I really am playing it by ear a lot.
And so I am always flattered when you all claim I have my shit together and I’m a good example or an expert or a reliable source. But, gosh, guys. I’m stumbling in the dark just as much as anybody else.
Yeah, there’s a feelings rant going up on here. Bear with me or just ignore it.
It just have a much easier time articulating my feelings in writing than I have ever have out loud. Especially in writing not directed to anyone in particular. And this is the only diary I’ve ever been able to keep, so, here goes.
When feelings start to come out, I always feel selfish. That’s how I get. Partially because I worry I’ll be hurting a friendship by inserting myself into the middle of it and partially because he says he doesn’t want or need to see anybody else regularly beyond some threesomes and sharing.
So, because I feel selfish, I don’t articulate myself. Because I am scared of seeming too demanding or needy. And I’ve never been good with conflict. I have this terrible all-or-nothing instinct where I think a single disagreement will completely destroy everything. And so I back out and try to please everyone.
My therapist says in the mess of that, my own feelings get lost. Which is something that goes on in terms of my family, my friends and my activities. I am incredibly cautious with the people I care about and neglect to articulate my needs because I worry somehow I’ll come across as selfish. So, I’m kind of a failure at communication.
The issue is resolved for the most part, but ugh. I don’t know.
On Friday, we crossed a few boundaries with each other. Not disastrously, but Switch and I both sort of took the dominant role too far in an effort to please the other. As a result, we both wound up with a little bit of overkill on the cruelty end of dominating something. Fortunately, this wasn’t irreparable.
We talked a little bit about it afterwards to check in and neither of us were completely shattered. In fact, we’d both enjoyed it, but knew there were a few problematic things lingering that had gone on. Mostly, this was in reference to a few acts of degradation that I had put him through and then a few he had put me through. They were just maybe a bit too degrading.
But then last night we actually sat down and discussed the nitty gritty of limits, boundaries, etc. We developed a safe word that works both ways. We admitted our mistakes.
