Hello Again S

If I'm honest, I was avoiding him intentionally. I'm drawn to his energy, his magnificent interest in sex, an interest I take the credit for igniting. 

My old flame S has been back in touch. I find him hard to resist, but resist I have - answering his texts with sympathy, but I will never give in to him the way I did before. I simply have too much to lose this time around. I have a relationship I'm not willing to risk losing. 

He's lost his old pictures of me, can't he just have one for old time's sake? No. I wish we had been able to have just one whole night together. Me too, but it's not going to happen now, it just won't. 

I feel excited by it, which is pretty tame considering how insatiable I've been feeling in JB's absence, but very uneasy. I feel like I wouldn't want JB to see these texts, and so that makes me feel that I shouldn't be involved here. That unease is definitely not even polyamorous, so it's certainly not monogamy.....

I care for S deeply, and am so grateful for the time we had together. There was some pretty excellent sex had. But now, now that I've moved on at last from him, I find that he hasn't quite let go of me. Yet.

I’m a silly cunt sometimes

I’ve fallen for my housemate. I’m a total idiot, and should have known better. He’s called JB, he’s lovely, and had I met him in a different life, who knows? It could have been different.

The night I came to look at the house was so much fun. I wasn’t exactly sure how to find it, but I knew he was at home waiting for me, and in the quickly darkening evening I could see him sitting on the sofa  playing on an ipad and drinking red wine. All the signs were good that this was going to be somewhere I’d be happy living.

I can hear his voice so clearly, welcoming me. “Hello”. He was excited and nervous - we’d met once before at a mutual friend’s birthday party, and as we all left, JB and I danced to the train station. I found him on facebook, and found his art blog. He remembers me as his first following. We seemed to be quietly noteworthy in each others’ lives.

He showed me the house. A study (yay), with room for my sewing machine. filled with books. Heaven. A lobby, beautifully decorated to exactly my taste. A lovely bathroom and a new kitchen, just put in. He showed me the room, it was great. We went to the kitchen, and he gave me the key. It was that easy. He poured me some wine.

We chatted. We talked our way through three bottles of wine, and I was having a great time. We agreed on so many things, and agreed at how stupid those who didn’t agree with us were. I told him I was polyamorous. We watched Youtube clips and laughed together on the sofa. We let our bodies touch. I don’t really remember saying this (although definitely not out of the realm of possibility) but apparently I said “so is fucking part of the deal?”. Ugh

So we kissed, we really made out. He took me upstairs, I ripped his (and my own) clothes off. We touched, I sucked his cock. I remember a hazy and not very enjoyable 69 (those things scare me - too much chance for a nose up the bum) and then him not being able to keep it up. I remember waking up a lot, and feeling very thirsty. It was a little weird.

A few days later I came to show my four year old nephew the house. JB thanked me for being cool. I felt cool. I like fucking people and although it wasn’t my most successful drunken fuck, I had enjoyed myself. I moved in.

We started a weird friendship, a slight romance. We enjoyed each other so much, and began to fool around most weekends. I was fine - I was really ok with it all, and JB was so clear that a real relationship between us wasn’t really an option.

I ignored him. I wondered what it would be like if we were together. I thought if I pretended hard enough, he’d change his mind. He kept saying how excellent I was, and I thought that meant he wanted to be with me, and was coming around to the idea.

He wasn’t. I know that categorically, after starting to cry when we agreed we should probably stop the kissing, the fucking and the cuddling up to watch TV, I confessed I was upset because I loved him. Accidentally loved him. He was (is?) shocked, and as gently as possible told me that I would never make it into his heart.

I’m retreating now, trying to get some distance without being mean (although my lesser self wants him to be as hurt as I feel), but I don’t like it. I don’t like it at all.

I want him.

Paris, France

J took me to Paris last weekend. I had been looking forward to it for months. All over Christmas, almost all I could think about was going to Paris with J. It just seemed like the most romantic thing in the universe.

We left on the Friday of my first week back at work. From about 12pm that day I'd begun to feel terrible nervous and excited, almost nauseous, which is pretty unusual for me. On the train to London I felt so fucking anxious I could hardly stand it. Couldn't read. Couldn't do anything except sit there and fucking pine away, waiting to see him.

He had sent this text:

"You get 3 spanks for every minute late you are after 1730. I want to kiss you. Xxx"

When the train pulled in I felt shaky with desire. I called him, and he answered "Nine minutes late. That's 27 spankings." Once I'd heard his voice I felt ok, and as I wandered through the train station to meet him I felt positively serene. Then all of a sudden there he was. Real as fuck. It was all I could do to stand there in his embrace, and not fall to the ground and weep with relief.

As we travelled through England and then into the North of France, we talked, chatted about life, about his friend who had died, about my Christmas trip. We made it into Paris quite late, then couldn't get a taxi and took a fraught Metro journey to our hotel. He seemed distracted, but it was ok.

The view from the Hotel

We made it to the room, and we kissed. He took my clothes off, I took his off. He ate me for a long time, but for some reason did that thing that T used to do, which is not listen to me saying "don't stop" and he kept on changing his pace. Fingering me too hard, and too deep. I'm being spoilt now, but it was so GD annoying that I kept being distracted. When I finally came it wasn't great, and I barely felt it.

He hadn't fucked anyone in six weeks, so he fucked the absolute shit out of me. He came quickly, had tried to slow down, then suddenly stopped and looked so intensely into my face before shooting himself into me with an anguished cry.

The scene of the crime

The next day he taped my arms together and fucked me from behind as he pushed my face into the bed. The me flipped me over and pressed his glorious weight into me from on top. My arms hurt but I loved it. I loved it when he came in me. I wanted it to be for real.

Saturday night changed everything though. He'd been a little distant in the afternoon, and as I generally let him set the tone I let myself get totally thrown and began to doubt myself. It was really my fault then for the rest of the weekend, as I couldn't feel happy unless I thought that he was. So I wasn't very talkative, felt shy.

We spoke about his work over dinner and when I made a foolish mistake over something quite key he'd been explaining he gave me an exasperated look and a sigh. I almost burst into tears. I felt mortified, humiliated, stupid and playing out of my league. He asked if he'd upset me but it was all I could do to shake my head and deny how easily wounded I was.

Sunday was fun. We walked around the Musee D'Orsay before a walk through the Tuileries and a crepe on a Ferris wheel. Another exhibition had too long a line and he was disappointed. We then went to Champs Elysees and wandered through some shops. He likes to buy me things. We went into a store, and he bought me some delicious boots. I adore them:



We then went to an early supper at Terminus Nord. I had onion soup and lobster. He had soupe de poisson and steak. He was quiet, I was sad and frightened. He seemed cross and I didn't know why. I don't even know if he was actually cross or just distracted.

We went to catch the train and the snow had thrown the system into mayhem and there were hundreds of people queueing for the trains. We made it onto the last two seats of the earlier train (which nevertheless running 300 minutes late) but did spend a couple of hours waiting. He was so anxious that he kept marching off, trying to find a better place for us to sit. Always trying to be more efficient. Not telling me what is going off. Walking off when I was halfway through I sentence. I know he didn't hear me. He should have been listening. I want him to be the kind of lover that is listening.

I had a cry, and told him he'd upset me. He was totally shocked and oblivious and I thought I saw a flicker of him being sad that I was upset. I don't know if that's the case though.

On the ride back we chatted, sometimes it was intimate, some times it wasn't. We spoke about life, and about sex, and he said to me:

"if you follow me into the toilets I will come in your mouth"

So I did. I've NEVER done that before, but he fucked me from behind in the Eurostar toilets, and before coming he spun me around, sat me down, took off the condom and pressed his lovely cock into my mouth. He came with a sigh into my mouth for the first time, and it tasted wonderful. He was shocked that I'd done it, and frankly so was I.

We tried to find our way back home. He booked a hotel, I thought I was invited, but I wasn't. He got me off the train a stop early and left me to make my own way home. I was devastated. He had the fucking audacity to tell me he missed me and wished I was at the hotel with him. I sobbed the way home.

I need to stop letting him treat me like a fool.

J

A couple of months ago, T and I went to an open day on polyamory, which is essentially what we do. Ethical non-monogamy.

I can't even begin to describe how lovely it was. It was reassuring to see all the weirdos I was expecting were there. It was even more reassuring to see all the normal people (like us?) there too. It made me so happy to see that T and I weren't totally alone out there, seeking new experiences together and opening our hearts and lives to others. It has really brought home how tribal humans really are, and how much we thrive when we associate with people who live the same way we do. What better community to be a part of, than one that is automatically accepting of:

1) The people involved are the ones who decide how the relationship goes
2) That you are free to make your own choices
3) That you and your partners can help each other live fuller lives
4) That you live in a way that most other people don't.

There were workshops on tantra, polyamory in academia, troubleshooting, how-to sessions and introductions for those new to poly. We rounded off the day with a discussion on poly parenting, led by More than Nuclear, who is an amazingly articulate woman who discusses aspects of her poly life on her blog. Do check it out.

After that, we all went out for dinner. T had met some groovy guys and gals that he wanted to dine with, as had I, so we parted ways for the time being. I went out to dinner with a most excellent bunch of people, one of which was J.

J is a scientist who was in a new relationship with J2 (who is a lovely excellent winner type of lady). He struck me as funny, but also a little dangerous, and seemed to like to make a point by ever so slightly putting J2 down, or making fun of her. I found that a slightly strange dynamic. We chatted a lot over dinner, and I could feel him becoming interested in me. The whole table was very engaged and engaging, and I had a lovely dinner. That's also where I met G2, but more on him later.

After dinner, we all went back to the hall for the final festivities and booze drinking. I remember quite clearly putting my arm around J and saying what a lovely time I'd had. He agreed. We had both come to polyamory that year and I could feel that we were both still slightly in shock that we'd managed to find something so simple, yet so extraordinarily empowering. It's still a bit of a shock that this is my wonderful life.

Anyway, a couple of months have passed since then and we've recently got back in touch after a short break. We're meeting up on Tuesday for dinner and drinks and I guess we're going to see how it goes! Again, he's quite a bit older than me (ten years maybe?) but I do like that. He's already asked me to spend the night with him in Cambridge where he lives, but I declined for the time being. I know what will happen if I did stay over and I'm not sure I want to keep going down that path straight away. It makes it awfully hard to come back from that place. There is a lesson there re boundaries though!!

I am excited to see him, I hope it goes well. I am also looking forward to going to Cambridge eventually, and having him show me the sights....