Unfortunately, I’ve got family coming for the next five days (why?) and so napping will be sporadic slash probably not a thing. And it sucks because it’s the side of the family I like less and that requires a fuckton more work.

Even more unfortunately, it’s the side of the family that isn’t poly-aware, so I can’t hang out with Pup at all now that I actually have free time. 

Send help.



my insides enlist one thousand swarming insects…

(from a poem I wrote, found here)

So, I came out to my mother today as poly. I totally didn’t anticipate this happening like this/today/ever. But it went so, so well. She was supportive and patient.

At first, she asked some silly and infuriating questions, but eventually we were able to sort of get on the same page about the whole thing. It’s really rewarding to me to see her try to understand this and to take me on my own terms, as the person that I am.

Best part though: She’d met Pup once and I had introduced him as a friend. And when I told her today that he’s actually a partner, she went, “oh thank God. I saw him and the way he looked at you and thought you’d messed up and slept with him.”

So uh, thanks Good Guy Mom for sitting on my “illicit affair” for a few months and not saying anything?


I’m sitting on my couch watching Family Feud with my grandmother and the question is, “things you’d bring with you if you’re going to elope” and my grandmother, without missing a beat, blurts out, “my diaphragm.”

You go, grams.


So, I’ve got a teensy hangover.

But it was worth it in recovering from having to deal with relatives visiting this past week and having to sit still at home while Sir went out on a first date yesterday afternoon.


I once complained about how my whole life has basically existed in one two hour radius prior to moving.

Which makes me sad when I’m not there.

But is lovely when I come home.

I’ll be busy tending to that radius and getting caught up for the next few days, tumblr. I promise I’ll answer your questions and messages soon.



Why weren’t you there? Why can’t you do one single thing you say you’re gonna do? You act like you want me to come see you, but you don’t know how to have me here. You don’t know how to deal with it, you don’t know how to even have a conversation with me.

I’ve confessedly never watched Girls. I’m terrible, I know.

I had dinner with a friend last night and opened up about some stuff that’s been on my mind, so she did kind of the tritest thing ever and referenced this episode.

I’m a masochist so I looked up this gifset because I couldn’t bring myself to actually watch it. Ugh.


Ivy Dates #3: The Best Date Ever


I was literally about to walk out the door Saturday morning when I got a text from the guy who was supposed to take me out. My feelings about the guy were fairly ambivalent. He’s Ivy League-educated, brilliant, fairly successful, he appreciates the arts. But, about a week ago, he got drunk and sent me a lot of reeeeally obnoxious texts. So, I was sort of like, whatever.

Everybody does that at some point in their lives. Anyway, the text read that his family had dropped in by surprise to visit and he couldn’t take me out. I wasn’t sure whether or not to call bullshit, but he apologized a ton and offered to take me out again so I shrugged it off. I walked back upstairs in my cute sundress with my hair done all nice with no plans until the evening.

“Well, it’s a shame, you look lovely,” my mother said. I laughed. “Want to take me out?”

And so we got in the car and headed out to buy some shoes, shamelessly gossip about people we know, yell along to “Sledgehammer” and Pretenders songs in the car and have one of the most pleasant afternoons I’ve had in a while. So, my best date ever turned out to be with my mother. Go figure.