Today in amazing poly successes and endless sources of joy, my now long-distance boyfriend Leo (wahhh) who is still back in my old city (despite my constant pleas that he move here and live in the apartment above us) sent his valentine’s love along to both Pup and I because he is an actual angel.
Here’s to comperison and metamours who treat each other with abundant love and enduring respect in 2018.
Also to finally convincing Leo to please move here already.
truly the purest thing I’ve ever seen is watching my husband and my boyfriend tag each other in excessively complimentary memes
On par with you, me, and @piper-doll throwing @bbykittentoes a surprise bday party last night tbh
Not gonna lie like one of the number one things I miss about my old city, besides having constant access to Leo, is the fact that Leo called Pup “brother” all the time and they’d hug a lot and have really beautiful conversations with each other and ughhh my heart
Sir is on a date right now with the girl he’s been seeing out here and they just had goodbye sex (he’s headed to the states with me for a little while soon!!) He’d asked me if he could do this, and I gave him the okay on both counts of going on the date and having sex.
Meanwhile, I’ve been sitting home eating mashed potatoes and drinking sake.
But tbh the fact that I am really okay with this coupled with my only upset being I wish he and I could’ve chilled out together tonight while his roommate is out and his apartment is empty is a really good sign. So hurrah poly progress?
Over Thanksgiving, I’d had that scary conversation with Sir where I admitted that I ad developed like feelings for Pup and this wasn’t just sort of play partners territory anymore. It’s hard for me to admit stuff is going well in poly, mostly because I never want to hurt anybody’s feelings. So I end up being like, “this person is okay,” when really I find the person awesome but don’t want to hurt Sir’s feelings. And as I’ve gotten into before, this has only ended poorly. So, this time I actually admitted I thought Pup was a really awesome person and I liked him a lot.
It went really well with Sir, but now I was all anxious about having the same conversation with Pup. I don’t even know what I really wanted out of it, and that was why it was so difficult for me. I wasn’t looking for anything to really change, it was more me wanting to express this and sort of be sure I wasn’t just sort of arbitrary booty or a rebound. It’s hard for me to tell if people like me sometimes or just enjoy the particular experience of whatever we’re doing divorced from me as a person.
So, the night I got back, I told him. We were in his bed with the lights off. I felt really nervous and silly the whole time. But, he was really sweet and that night we ended up having vanilla sex for the first time.
We didn’t really discuss that, as far as I remember. It just sort of happened. He pulled on a condom and I pulled him on top of me. He didn’t go as hard as he usually did, heis hands didn’t fall to my wrists or my throat.
I don’t want to prioritize vanilla sex over kinky sex as being more serious or more intimate or more emotional. Some of the most serious, intimate, emotional sex I’ve had was kinky sex. But there was something about how the sex was that night, and how we said each other’s names. I know it’s trite and cheesy, but it was really, really nice.
Me.
Background: So I’ve got a date coming up with a guy who seems really cool. I asked him out myself and I’m usually too shy to do that, so I’m pretty proud of myself. Also, he’s pretty good motivation to finish my thesis.
Me: Think of it this way. Three dicks plus three holes equals America.
Me: Or like three dicks:three holes is the golden ratio.
Pup: Your golden ratio is just one to one.
Me: Thats why it’s the golden ratio.
Pup: One?
Me: Yes.
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.
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 met Saltine before Pup did, at a munch a month or two prior. I first introduced them (the individual, preferred pronoun) in my post about being a brilliant wingwoman. But, yes, I’d met them prior to that time at a munch, where they gave me their number.
We texted rather sparsely. They’d send me a message, I’d reply a few hours later, they’d reply the next day. We were perfectly cordial with each other. I was a little taken aback to eventually discover that they were only eighteen years old (call me ageist or whatever else) and I figured that I would keep stuff friendly but not play with them or anything like that. When they asked if I was coming to a play party, I gave a soft maybe and – because my schedule was a little crazy – didn’t end up going.
But at an event in November, I noticed Pup checking Saltine out and I figured I’d help that along. After all, he didn’t mind dating younger the way I do and I was, at the time, his only partner. So, when the event ended, I managed to rally together Pup, Saltine, and some others to go share some fries.
As we walked over, we originally made our way up the block Wizard of Oz style: Pup, Saltine, my friend and I. I grabbed my friend by the arm and made her hang back with me so Pup and Saltine could walk ahead. At the restaurant, I went over to the bar first to talk to someone so that when I finally got to the table, I wasn’t sitting by Pup and he couldn’t just fall back on talking to me.
At the end of the night, Pup and I left together. Once we were outside, I couldn’t hold it in and blurted out, “please tell me you got their number.”
“Yeah,” he said. We high-fived and then he did that awkward walking-on-eggshells poly speech about blah blah how great the other partner is blah blah thank you for understanding. It’s a speech I’ve heard myself give so many times whenever I felt guilty for enjoying someone else, and hearing it out of his mouth, I realized how silly it sounded.
Over the next few days, I kept pestering to him to make plans with them. And, finally, they’d arranged to go get coffee. But, a few days before their plans, while Pup and I were doing some work at a cafe when they texted asking him for help with their homework.
“I don’t get why they’re texting me,” Pup said, ever-oblivious, “I don’t even-”
I rolled my eyes. “Jesus Christ. They are trying to hang out with you. Invite them here.”
So, Saltine showed up. I was a little embarrassed – I’d just spent the night at Pup’s place and I was wearing sweatpants and no makeup and my hair was a mess – and I hadn’t planned on being seen by anybody I hadn’t already woken up with. But, I took one for the team and stuck around, making sure everything was going well between them. And, when I knew the time was right, I excused myself and left the two.
That evening, I checked my phone to make sure he wasn’t free to text me. And the next morning, I found a message from him saying they’d spent the night and that the two of them were getting along swimmingly, in addition to having really good energy. I may have high-fived myself in the solitude of my bedroom.
