(A Super Early) Thursday Thoughts.

Because for some reason you guys enjoy these when I do them.

Can somebody tell me where the hell are trilbygrey and charlottesdress? Seriously. What happened? I sort of need those in my life to keep functioning.
For those of you who have not yet seen the pictures of David Cross walking through the airport in socks, Birkenstocks and a bedsheet, I would really encourage you to go google that shit.
Everybody go give herdirtylittleheart a hug. Seriously. She needs it.
In other news, I’ve been laughing over this tumblr a lot. Hint: Read the tags, too. Half the humor is in the tags.
I have a date next Saturday. Not to jinx myself, but I’ve got a good feeling about this one. Failing that, I have a great exit strategy.
I’ve decided not to give Mr. Finance the benefit of a second date. Because I have (metaphorical) balls and a brain, dammit.
The rental car I have while we figure out my other car is sort of amazing. I’m used to driving this piece of junk and the dealership wound up giving me an upgrade after some problem that I’m fairly sure was a non-issue, but they felt bad and gave me a really nice car to drive around. So, I’m not going to exactly tell them that I wasn’t hassled. My driving habits are now confined to me not being used to driving a car that runs well and uncomfortably adjusting speed as I blast a bunch of Hip Hop radio stations and pretend I’m a classy media mogul. I’m a terrible driver, so I usually fluctuate between that behavior and feeling like I’m driving a future ten-car pileup.
I’ve learned how to handle any and all the bullshit in my life from now on. And it’s like this. So, I’m glad I’ve figured that out.

Too Close

Sometimes, not all the “sexy” stuff I do is completely productive. I’m sorry to interrupt my stories about Switch to talk about the difference between the things I want and the things I should have.

Last night, I went out with a few friends. I am currently back in town for some things I need to do for my research and other miscellaneous chores, so I am staying at Switch’s place. He had some paperwork to do for his job that’s starting soon (yes, he just recently graduated Ivy University and will be moving away soon) and so he sent me off and told me to just text him when I was on my way home.

Among the people out with me was my future roommate. She and I have been friends since freshman year. To be honest, when I first met her, I was sort of really into her. But, seeing the types of guys and girls she was into, I assumed she wouldn’t be into me and pursued what turned out to be a really great friendship.

Except, last night, she was dancing all over me. She took her shirt off on the dance floor and tried to get me to do same. She kept sneaking touches, grabs, smirks. She’d barely had anything to drink and she isn’t on any level a lightweight.

For weeks she had been claiming that us living together could be a disaster. Jokingly, to our friends. Now, we were dancing close, intimately. She was whispering things in my ear, how hot I was, how she wanted to be on top of me. We danced like that for a while. We touched, we spoke volumes with our eyes when we couldn’t hear over the music, she bit my shoulder gently, kissed my neck.

“I want to kiss you,” I said during a lull in the music. It sounded stupid, but the whole situation was strange. I was going to be living with her next year. We were teetering in a threshold.

She shook her head, “we shouldn’t. We should hold off on this.”

When the night ended, she offered to walk me back to Switch’s place. Instead, I went on my own, texting him before I left. It was pissing rain outside and by the time I got home I was soaked, my calves caked in mud.

“Did you fall or something?” he asked when I came in, gesturing to my legs.

I shook my head, “just had to wade to get here.” And then, in a drunken entendre, I added, “I’m dirty. Can we take a shower?”

He turned on the hot water and put me in the shower with him. I tried to stay present when he washed me off, but my head was elsewhere. I couldn’t stop thinking about her when I was in bed with him afterwards and we had our hands all over each other.

He didn’t seem to notice the bite mark on my shoulder. I guess he assumed he put it there himself.

The issue isn’t with Switch, really. He and I aren’t monogamous. It’s the fact that now I can’t shake the thought of her, that I have to live with her with this lingering between us, that apparently she has some stuff for me, too.

And, so, I don’t know, tumblr. I can’t tell our friends because I don’t want any drama. So, I figured I’d just put this stupid longing here.

I’m not nearly as fragile as I’m allowed to be. I’m given permission to collapse, to surrender, to let the cracks deepen until the secrets and fears and insecurities come oozing out. But, I’m nowhere close to being that breakable.

I’m sensitive, but I’m not inconsolable. I’m submissive, but I’m not codependent. I’m pliant, but I’m not weak.

To no one in particular, but perhaps to a good crowd: real domination is not grabbing someone by their insecurity, it’s grabbing them by their strength. It’s not about using or patching up vulnerability, it’s about allowing something unyielding and independent the opportunity to surrender. And there is the prize: controlling something that can very well control itself.

m-as-tu-vu:

L’Accès ..*

THIS. EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS.

If you don’t like when I reblog feminism stuff, seriously, just unfollow. There’s nothing keeping you here.

It’s difficult when you’ve grown so used to submitting to someone and then, suddenly, you’re not. A balance is thrown.

Specifically to that person, there’s still a sort of deference you afford them. There’s something very much “there” that is sometimes difficult to just let lie. Because these things become forces of habit and suddenly your signals are completely crossed.

Generally, it’s just difficult not to have that dynamic. I don’t want to say I’m just hardwired to submit to people, but there is something about it that makes me very happy and feel very secure. Beyond the sexual aspect of it, the psychological level is incredibly powerful. And it’s hard to sit there sometimes and think you’d like to be serving someone but it’s just not happening for you right now.

I’ve noticed quite a few of you lamenting on here recently over a bdsm relationship that just ended and I send my condolences and best wishes. Because I know how it feels. I’m there right now and everything’s just a little off-balance.

I like and am simultaneously completely intimidated by the prospect of being shared between two men. I know it’s super silly to be like “damn that’s a lot of penis”. But, really, damn. That’s a lot of penis.

I guess it’s totally the same as a man and a woman in terms of having two people to pay attention to. But I guess I am just vaguely overwhelmed at the prospect of how much penis that is.

This 2 am penis anxiety brought to you by the people at thinkivykink.

“I once had a garden filled with flowers that grew only on dark thoughts, but they need constant attention and one day I decided I had better things to do,” – Brian Andreas, Story People.