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“My heart is drenched in wine,
but you’ll be on my mind.”

Suehiro Maruo 

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I won’t lie to you: most of my visit to Sir over the holidays was pretty hard. I was living with him and his roommate, he was working long days and I was under a lot of stress regarding school stuff. Being apart had put a strain on our intimacy, had made us sometimes feel like strangers. It had been big years for both of us and, yeah, we’d changed. Worse, there was the looming reality of Sir’s leaving the country indefinitely for his job.

It was frightening. I thought we were over. We fought, we struggled to make things feel the way they used to. I didn’t want to write about anything on here because I guess I was a little embarrassed and worried about portraying him in a negative light or inviting criticism.

Months prior, I’d gone to a vintage record store while on a trip and found this. I’d planned on giving it to him as a cute little gesture for our anniversary. But as I went through the airport, they randomly searched my backpack, and while sifting through it I could hear the crack. I’d taken such care to slip it in a spot that kept it safe, and I knew right away it was broken. 

It felt cheesy: that our D/s dynamic was struggling, our relationship was floundering, and my “To Sir With Love” had snapped the “Love” right out. Even cheesier: I couldn’t find the piece.

I’ll get into the good parts of the visit, there were certainly some. But the point is that there were the tough points. There were the points where I thought that I was walking in the wreckage of something that was already destroyed. I lost sleep worrying over it, I wondered where we’d messed up.

For our anniversary, he’d arranged for this really wonderful night right after the New Year, and now I was anxious about even making it to that. I even left town on New Year’s Day after being up till 4AM (that story’s coming, don’t worry) to spend time with a friend and just try to get clarity about the whole thing. And though I was worried about that night, that whole day I missed him. We’d had a good new years, though I knew that things were different, that we were very different people than a year before.

I got home and stopped trying to be that thing we were. I stopped attempting to recreate the old dynamic, to force every situation to meet old expectations. And then as I was packing for our night away, I found the stupid piece. I had to laugh a little, cry a little more. 

Sir came home with roses and a pizza (wish I could share that photo) and after a late lunch, we headed over. We had good sex, we drank good booze, we made good conversation. I looked across the table at him out at dinner and felt that familiar tenderness. We woke up and made love, looking out the window at the city where we’d first met, where it first all came together. 

And I knew that things were not entirely resolved, but I knew I had to fight for this, that of course these things would not just keep on because of the perfect coincidence of our meeting, that love wasn’t just a point on a timeline but a repeated action. I watched the runners and the tourists, the cars and the taxis, the city that had once felt as if it were ours but soon would be where neither of us lived anymore. 

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Sir came for the weekend. Yesterday, we had a nice day together and then went to a play party with Pup and some of my friends, where he fulfilled one of my craziest fantasies. This morning, we realized he first spoke to me three years and two days ago (shush, we always miss the mark a little.)

I’ve got to drive him to the airport soon. I have been so grateful that he’s been in the states and that I’ve been able to have this much time with him this summer. But it only makes being with him feel like the norm, which is great until he’s gone. So, yeah, I’ll miss him a lot.

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mirrorscape:

beautifulcmnf:

Beautiful CMNF by Ruslan Lobanov.

You might think it’s all about being outnumbered but, really, it’s about being outnumbered by those that can bring you down to the most vulnerable of places.

These feelings.

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mostlycatsmostly:

(via Cat Bitė / Unitedcats)

FYI I am demobottoming in less than ten hours and I am basically this anxious little kitty.

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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.

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Hi tumblr.

This is your hostess apologizing for being pretty quiet for the past while. I know I’m behind on 365 photos. I know I’m behind on updating you all about my life. 

Facts are, my life has been the most hectic it has ever been, for good and bad reasons. I finished up my Master’s, I have a job in the city where I completed it that I’ll be beginning soon after I return from this trip to be with Sir. Things are crazy and exciting. I’m starting to get situated in my field, and so tumblr has fallen a bit by the wayside.

However, this inactivity has also been for some crummy reasons. Basically, I’ve been putting off writing about two things that are kind of sucky. The first is the relationship Pup and I had with Saltine. The second is a rather rough spot, kind of an ultimate low, with Sir. Both have resolved themselves in different ways: Pup and I are no longer seeing Saltine, Sir and I kind of had to hit rock bottom to rebuild back to what we had.

Neither of these are particularly appealing to write about. The first feels so strange in the sense that I know this thing is over, and it colors all the stories I have to tell you. The second is buried beneath a lot of shame: I hate to admit where I’ve messed up, I hate to portray my relationship with Sir in a negative light.

So bear with me, tumblr. The stories are coming. They’re just going to take a lot out of me.

<3,

Ivy

passivites:

Ed Hodgkinson

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Gearing up for the last, longest leg of my trip to see Sir. 

This has always been one of my poly feelings songs – “How do I know I can come and give to you/love with no warning and find you alone?” – and it feels all the more appropriate and applicable for what’s ahead of me.

Facts are that I haven’t seen Sir in four months now. We’ve been contending with time zones, with both being extremely busy, with other relationships and obligations. And for as sure as I am that this is just the anxiety that comes with hopping on a plane to fly around the world and see someone, with all the expectation and stakes involved, it’s hard not to worry of all that could go wrong. 

That lyric’s always stuck with me because it’s impossible: there’s absolutely no way to know. There’s absolutely no guarantee, and it’s as unreasonable as most of the great love proclamations people say so readily they’ve lost their absurdity under idiom – never let me go, don’t ever leave my side, etc. And so I know arriving will probably be a little awkward, things may not go as seamlessly at first as you want to expect.

But I know I love the crap out of this person. Despite being exhausted and having a massive flight still ahead of me, I’m excited to see him.