“Desire is no light thing.” – Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red.
feelings
“Wear your skeleton on the inside out, and keep your insect heart a secret.” – Karen Russell, St. Lucy’s School for Girls Raised by Wolves.
“You become responsible forever for what you have tamed.” – The Little Prince.
On Friday night, I was at a birthday party on the other end of the city where the drink of the night was very little more than gin mixed with champagne. Pup was out on a date with a new partner he seems to like a lot, and it was half past midnight when he texted me to see if I was still out. “I can be there by 1:30,” he wrote back when I confirmed I was. “I’ll pick you up.”
A little emboldened by the cocktail that was supposed to be served in a champagne flute and that we’d all been gulping back from tumblers, by the time Pup arrived I was flirting with a guy friend of mine. And I can’t begin to explain the strange comfort of watching him come through the door, of feeling his hand on my shoulder, of knowing we were going to go sleep and wake up together.
And, yeah, I kept hitting on the guy, because you know me.
He woke me the next morning by pulling me into him and speaking gently into my ear. I’d briefly forgotten in my sleep that he had come over, and to hear his voice and feel him there was such a strange relief. I feel at peace in his presence, it’s a great thing.
And for all the getting tied up and the awesome sex and the threesomes, that’s my favorite thing that’s happened in my bed. Waking up groggy and a little hungover and remembering he was there, too.
“Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us.
These, our bodies, possessed by light.
Tell me we’ll never get used to it.”
– Richard Siken, “Scheherazade.”
Yesterday would have been Sir’s and my anniversary. In the spirit of trying to be friends, we decided to meet up for dinner.
I was super anxious leading up to it; I hadn’t seen him since we broke up, although we have been talking. We’re both seeing other people, but I was scared I would cry when I saw him or regret the whole thing instantly.
But seeing him come up the block to meet me last night, I was filled with warmth for him. It’s hard to explain. But I’ll say this: we spent most of the first half of our twenties together, and so in a way we grew up together. There were so many firsts and so many beautiful things that I shared with this man. And so when he came up and hugged me, all of my anxiety faded away and I was able to just enjoy him again.
It’s hard to talk about the “end” of this relationship – though it’s not really ended – on tumblr. He found me here, you all watched this relationship develop. You were there for all the good stuff and the awkward stuff and the brave stuff. I was nervous to share the bad stuff because it always felt like I might be disappointing someone, especially when I used to get asks from people basically saying they envied our relationship.
I’ve said it before here and I’ll repeat it: knowing how it all wound up, I’d do it again. Especially now, after the wonderful dinner we shared as people becoming something that feels like – and hopefully will be – dear friends. And I know it sounds strange, but breaking up may have been one of the best things we could have done for our relationship.
We were very good to each other. I think that’s what made this all right. There were some really hard and bad times. But in the end it’s overwhelmed by gratitude and warmth. I’m glad we did this right. I’m glad I loved him. I’m glad we tried as hard as we did. And I’m glad you’ve all been with us, join us on this really unexpected journey.
I promise, I’ll get back to the sexy stuff soon.
I’m turning twenty-five in a week so like THAT’S A THING.
There’s a side of me that really likes the whole Upper Floor genre of kink and sexuality. Dressing well, comporting yourself well. Essentially, making a vague idea of opulence and class to be a kink in itself.
But then part of me just wants to be used in a gas station bathroom.
About a week after Sir and I broke up, I had a hair appointment and decided to be stereotypical and do something new and dramatic. So, I’ve cut about a foot of my hair off. It’s never been this short before. I like it, but I’m a little frightened of it. I don’t recognize myself in photos, sometimes not even in the mirror.
I like how gamine-like I look, and I’m weirdly getting taken more seriously in work settings. But it was oddly emotional watching it being cut away, to see it fall around me on the floor and then get swept away.