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Oct. 27th, 2013


I Went to a Swingers Club Last Night

It was my first time.



Dec. 24th, 2012


What I Wish I Could Say to You

You look good. And happy. So does she. She's adorable. I'm happy for you; genuinely. I thought it would hurt to see you with her, but it didn't. It made me smile. I always wanted to see you happy; we went for a couple years there where I didn't see you happy often, and I know that some of that was my fault, so it made me feel better to see you smiling.

I'm happy, too. You're probably rolling your eyes and thinking only of the slutty aspect of my lifestyle and the happiness that brings me, but honestly, that's not what's bringing me most of my happiness these days. It's why I don't post here very often anymore. What has been making me happy has been all the laughter I've been having over working outdoors all day with kids. What's been making me happy are the hilarious co-workers and friends I've been spending time with. What's been making me happy is road trips and traveling. What's been making me happy is the lowered depressive episodes in my life these days.

It feels good to be back, though sometimes it's hard. All of my stories have you in them (and I tell those stories, like the shark-catching story or the Baths at Virgin Gorda story, to my campers at bedtime). All of the places here are places I've been with you. You know what, though? That means I have so many good memories to smile about when I walk or drive around. Sure, there's a pang in my heart because those days are over, but it was an amazing run while it lasted, wasn't it?

Things might have gotten ugly at the end. People say mean things when they're hurting and angry. I think we did an amazing job of keeping it relatively civilized, but I guess there are some things I wish I'd done differently. I wish I'd been capable of being a better friend once the relationship ended, but honestly, it just hurt too much at the time. I never stopped caring about you,and never stopped wanting to be a friend, but it hurt to watch you be angry and in so much pain, pain that I knew I had contributed to.

It's hard when people talk about you around me. I'm so clueless as to what your life has been like, so unsure as to whether you've changed at all since I left. I knew you so intimately for so long, that it's unsettling to be so out of the know. It'll take some getting used to; goodness knows I'll have plenty of practice, seeing as we have the same circle of friends.

I like to hope that one day, we can be friends again. I understand that it's probably still a pretty lofty hope, but it's there. You were my best friend for so long, and while I of course have other friends, you knew me better than anyone. You still might know me better than anyone, despite our distance over the last year or so.

I want you to know that, as I often told you, I'm sorry. You gave me everything. You did nothing wrong and everything right. I'm so sorry that I couldn't find happiness in that. I wanted to so, so badly. A part of me still wishes I could. But I can't. It's just not in me. I've been so happy this past year, and it's not because you're not in my life, it's simply because I'm doing all the things I always wanted to do. I wanted, not so long ago, to do all these things with you, but that wasn't your happiness, and so, we weren't meant to be. I'm sorry for the pain that realization has caused; please know that it hasn't been easy for me, either.

You'll always have a friend in me, whether you want it or not, whether it's on Facebook or not, I'm here.

Dec. 11th, 2012


Writing Helps Me Think. Here's Me Thinking.

I had this odd feeling last night.

I felt like I was wrong.

I'm back in my hometown, the small town, the one where I spent most of my time in a relationship with Michael. I've been away for nine months, and now I'm back for the winter, hoping to take on a program as an English tutor in another country come spring.

For now, I am staying with two friends who I introduced and who are now dating. One is a friend from high school and the other a friend from camp. They are now lving together and raising the high school friend's daughter together.

Upstairs lives their landlord, another high school friend of mine, (I told you, small town) with his wife, kid, and another kid on the way. I chatted with him yesterday, catching up, and he showed me around the house, which is gorgeous, and which they just bought this year. He'll be paying for it somewhere between 18 and 30 years, but it's what you've gotta do when you're married with kids around here.

Last night, with the friends I'm living with, the topic of Michael came up. They are, of course, friends with him. He's a great guy, after all. In fact, he's the godfather of the friend's daughter. The topic of him came up when I mentioned missing my dog, the one Michael and I got together.

"Do you think you'll go to see him?" Friend 1 asked, meaning the dog.

"I don't know. I haven't talked to Michael since I left. I'm not sure how I'll react to seeing him."

Friend 1's eyebrows raised, and she took on a tone that was a bit, well, "sorry Charlie," is the best I can think of...

"Well, you know, we're friends with him. I told him you're staying here, but he comes over sometimes, and he still might."

I was feeling a lot of things as she said this, both due to her tone, her seeming defensiveness, my confused feelings about Michael, so I just tried to keep my expression neutral  Friend 2 knows me better than Friend 1 though, and I saw that she saw my struggle, though she didn't say anything.

Friend 1 continued. "He's practically married again, you know."

"Yeah, that's how he does it," I laughed a little. It's true - when Michael falls in love, he really falls in deep, and begins "acting married." It was how he was with me, and it was how he was with the girlfriend he had before me.

"She's nothing like you," Friend 1 went on (friend 1 is quite the talker).

"That's a relief," I started to say, but Friend 1 was already talking over me.

"...she washes the dishes, makes him breakfast, tells him not to make the bed because it's the 'woman's job' to do that. Very traditional, but still a nice girl to hang out with."

"Well, good for him," I offered cautiously. He deserves that, I was thinking of saying, but Friend 1 had already moved on to some new topic.

Predictably, after such an exchange, I had many mixed emotions. The one that struck me hardest, though, was that "wrong" feeling. That feeling  that my choice to leave the relationship was wrong. The feeling that what I'm doing with my life is wrong.

It really just isn't an easy feeling for me to handle. I'm so confident most of the time these days, and it took me a long time to gain that confidence, so I'm loathe to give it up.

I can't sit here and ponder "what ifs" though. At the same time, I know, because I remember, that I wasn't happy in that relationship at the end of it. When I started to be honest with myself about what I wanted in life, it didn't match up to what Michael wanted. There was no way for us to both be happy and for us to be together.

I made the right choice, damnit.

And there's probably a few people in this small town who don't believe I did, or who believe that I was somehow the "wrong" part of the relationship, or the...

...wait. I think I've got it.

I was the "wrong" girl for Michael. At least, for after I graduated college. That is true, because the person I was after I graduated was not the person who could make him happy.

Hopefully, this new girl is someone who will make him happy.

Because he does deserve it. He deserves happiness.

Just like I do.

And I can search for mine in my way, and in my corners of the world, while he pursues his in his own.

Mar. 9th, 2012


Hungry Eyes - Because It's Stuck in My Head

I seem to always be posting about the fact that I'm leaving soon. East Coast job beckons.

The Chef had me over the other night. He recently started seeing someone "seriously," and had spoken with me about the need to cease our sexual relationship because he felt it was the right thing to do in the light of his newfound love interest.

And, I'm not sure what happened, because it's not like I haven't ever gone over and just sat talking with him until we fell asleep, but at some point during the talk, he mentioned that perhaps "living like you [me]" was more for him.

"What do you mean, 'living like me'."?

"You know, the whole polyamorous thing. I've been thinking about it."

"I can see that your heart is able to, but you need to make sure you're not breaking any other hearts in the process."

"I know, I know. I think I should try it for a while, though. I think I already am."

"I think you already are, too."

And he kissed me. And. . .we've exchanged 'I love you's' in the past, with the acknowledgement that we have 'an understanding' that the two of us are simply not meant to be the kind of couple that plots marriage and children (I don't even think I am a PERSON who is meant to be plotting those things with anyone anymore), but as things progressed that night and we wound up undressed and sharing a narrow couch, I was happy first, and worried second.

I wish I could be there for him, in person, as he decides to explore this possibility for himself. I don't think he's incapable of doing it without me, but, I do care for the guy, and I just want to be there.

*sigh* I'll miss him.

Wade and I have scheduled Sunday night, my last night in town, to be alone together. I'm very, very much looking forward to it. In the meantime, I have wonderful friends visiting who demand my attention.

Back to life.

Mar. 6th, 2012


Getting Tested and Leveling Up

I got tested for a bunch of stuff today. Gonorrhea, chlamydia, HIV, pregnancy. Examined for herpes. You know, the works.

Turns out the symptoms that had me worried were simply a yeast infection. In all likelihood (fingers crossed) that's all I have. I have to wait a few weeks for the gonorrhea and chlamydia results; everything else was negative. The fact that both of those are curable is comforting.

I have to be honest; I haven't been tested for any of that (well, except for at-home pregnancy tests) since my teens when my mom found out I had become sexually active. I don't feel like I have a valid excuse for not having done it since then, nor for not asking new partners of mine to get tested before getting involved with them.

Last night while I lay in bed unable to sleep, calmly panicking over the likelihood that one of my slutty decisions in the last month had landed me in this health crisis, I evaluated just how much my condom policy has slipped as of late.

The Chef had been "waiting for marriage" with the woman he had recently broken up with. I was the first person he slept with in four years. Against my better judgement, I decided that this was reason enough to forgo a condom our first night together in December, and the pattern was established. I had even less excuse while in Manchester, when after going for two rounds and through the two available condoms already, I was aroused enough to decide it was okay for the third round to be barrier-free. And then, there was a blackout drunk night after coming home in which a nude jacuzzi slip-up occurred.

Why didn't I just go and get tested after each of these occurrences? Why wait until I thought I was experiencing symptoms to go? Again, I don't think I have a good reason.

But, I do believe that everything happens for a reason. Last night's fear-fueled borderline panic attack has reinstated my awareness of the importance of protection. And, also, now that I've gotten tested (and it was a rather positive experience, to be honest), I feel much more comfortable with the idea of doing it again, if needed, and asking someone else to do it.

Getting tested for HIV, was scary. After that blood was in, I wondered, "What if it's positive?"

Man, I had accepted last night that I might test positive for something, and that it wouldn't be a death sentence, thanks to modern medicine. But the severity of the situation...just...wow.

New sexual health awareness and outlook: Achieved. Nonmonogamous has leveled up.

Mar. 3rd, 2012


The Most Fun I've Had Without Sex in a While

Last night, a girlfriend and I went to a relatively new nightclub which had brought in some big-name comedians to build popularity. We don't have any comedy clubs in this town, so this was quite a treat. The nightclub filled their dance floor with chairs and couches and the comedians stood in front of the DJ booth, which was funny in and of itself.

They were great. It was a gut-busting night. I was having such a good time that I broke my weeklong drinking hiatus and had a couple of cocktails. I figured, why not? Just having a couple while enjoying the comedy show can't hurt.

After the show, the dance floor was cleared, and the friend I had come with decided that she wanted to stay and dance and drink some more. It wasn't long before I was on the dance floor myself, third cocktail in hand, and suddenly realizing that - Mr. Big Name Comedian was on the dance floor right in front of me! He's looking at me! He's dancing with me! He's sticking around and dancing some more! It was quite fun.

Eventually, he disappeared into VIP. I danced with some more lowly folk like myself, and found myself really enjoying the moves of a dark skinned Latino guy with long, curly hair. (I am such a sucker for long, curly hair.)

I later discovered that I'd lost the friend I'd come with. Some asking around revealed that she had decided to leave, having drunk too much, and she wanted me to know that she was sorry and would pay for my taxi home if I wound up getting a taxi.

"I have to call a taxi," I told the Latino guy when I returned.

"Where do you live?"

I told him. He offered me a ride. I nodded and smiled, but I tried to be noncommittal about it. He was here with two other guy friends, and I didn't know any of them. I was having a lot of fun, but I wasn't sure if I felt up to letting the three of them drive me home.

Then he bought me a drink, and we danced some more.

And then, Michael showed up. We exchanged polite hellos, and I continued doing what I was doing. I'm a bit ashamed to say that I didn't think much of when the Latino decided to kiss me on the dance floor; I'd had quite a lot to drink and was really just enjoying myself at that point. I kind of hope Michael didn't see it, because it seems a bit less than classy, and while I usually don't care much about class, I'm not going to pretend that I don't care about Michael's feelings.

The Latino and I went outside for a bit to sit on some couches there and chat. Mr. Big Name Comedian came and sat right across from us! We pulled him into the conversation and he was receptive and enjoying it, asking about living where we live and what it was like. Then, of course, he got pulled away to go back into VIP once again. I wonder how boring it must have been up there for him to keep coming out of it, though...

Latino and I get back on the dance floor. God, the music was good. More dancing, more kissing. The kissing is getting heavier. He's commenting on it - tells me he really likes my kiss. Tells me he wants to take me home. Oh, I'm bisexual? The things he'll do to me will make me never want women again (that assertion ALWAYS makes me laugh. I've had some pretty good straight sex, thank you very much, and none of it has ever lessened my attraction to women).

And then, at some point, I realized that I was drunk and alone and needed to get a taxi home. I happened to be having an interchange with the guy just as I was coming to this realization. I wanted to leave my bag on a bench while I danced, and he saw me put it down and shook his hand, telling me to pick it up and dance with it. I told him it was fine; I would face the bench and make sure it didn't go anywhere. He insisted...and it quickly became a power play and not about the bag at all. I didn't feel like playing that game, so I went, picked up my bag, and kept walking. And I went home.

I'm not going to a lie; a part of me wishes I had just conceded, or at least gotten his number before leaving, or SOMETHING. Because, well, he was a good dancer, and a fun guy who seemed nice, and he kept telling me how much he liked the way I kissed him. And, I'll be honest, I liked kissing him.

Maybe I'll bump into him again. Maybe not. I wouldn't mind it, though.

Feb. 26th, 2012

i love

I've Gone and Done It

I've created a new, not anonymous blog. I originally set it up to chart the progress of my NaNoWriMo novel, but productive procrastination got the better of me, and instead it currently has 3 posts just generally about nonmonogamy, polyamory, and ethical sluts. Nothing dirty, as it is not anonymous. Though, I haven't yet told anyone I know in the real world about it. I think I'll get to that when there are more posts.

I think what I will do is start limiting myself: I can only post on the shiny new blog if I have rewritten/edited at least one "section" of the novel that day. That should get me goin.

No, I'm not going to link the blog publicly here. That would be rather silly, wouldn't it? This blog wouldn't be anonymous anymore. So sad.

But don't worry, I'll still be here. I need SOMEWHERE to share my sexplorations and more personal rants without worry of students/campers or their parents knowing that it's me.

(By the way: if you have kids, I might be your child's camp counselor or teacher. I love this world.)

Right now, I'm writing this to kill time until the new temporary fuck buddy arrives to pick me up. I was supposed to suck his cock last week, if you were reading, and it never happened due to last-minute stuff on his end. He's gotten in touch tonight, though, and will be here in about 15 minutes to take me to his place so we can get it on. Thank goodness, too. I've been holed up at home all day today!

Why temporary? Because I leave in two weeks for the East Coast job. You know, this might be the first time that I'm totally ok with taking on a new buddy like this so close to leaving. I don't feel like it's a "shame" that it will be over in two weeks. There'll be more potential in the new digs, to be sure.

Anywho - I'm off to get laid. Ciao!

Feb. 20th, 2012



Last post for the day, promise. I just had a lot of time to lie around and think today, and this is the last of the coherent stuff.

I don't like secrets. I really appreciate that the girl I've been hanging around with a lot lately is very careful to make sure that everyone knows what everyone else knows in her circle of friends. She slept with a friend of mine, and warned him that she was going to tell me about it. She told me, and then told him that she had told me. On another occasion, she confessed to me that she had a crush on a female friend of mine. She then called the girl, and told her what she had told me, not wanting any confusion to arise later. Then she told me that she had told her.

This girl is communication-savvy. FTW.

It contrasts sharply with the times I've been with men who INSIST on secret-keeping. Hell, even having to start this anonymous blog, and when I was keeping my open relationship with Michael a secret, I was really annoyed. But I could handle that, because my profession was easier with it being a secret, and someone I loved dearly wanted it that way, so it was okay.

I'm much more annoyed by people who say "we can sleep together, but we can't tell anyone." WHY?!?! Look...the vast majority of us fuck, or would at least like to, very much. The more I've delved into the depths of adulthood and honesty, the more I've discovered just how many people are "secretly fucking." What if everyone who was secretly fucking suddenly just...let it out? What if we all suddenly saw one another for the sexual beings we really are? Perhaps then, we'd each individually be less ashamed of it all.

And yet, I concede. All too often.

I do think that, next National Coming Out day, I will announce that I am bisexual and polyamorous on my facebook. Perhaps after that, I will start a more cohesive blog. Less explicitness (as much as I love it, but I can keep that here) and more "in all seriousness...can we talk about love, sex, and relationships?" Perhaps I won't make that blog anonymous (gasp!).

At least I have some time to think about it.

My Promiscuity

As much as I surround myself with positivity, I find that once in a while, I hear someone assert that a woman who is promiscuous is such because she is looking for a replacement for love, or doesn't value herself, or has self-confidence or "daddy" issues, etc.

This bothers me. I don't doubt that there are girls out there doing just that. In fact, for some time I even thought that I was doing just that, because I heard it so often from people who didn't necessarily know how promiscuous I was, and I quietly sat and accepted the fact that my sexuality was probably a response to the need to feel wanted and valued. Sex is an easy way to get the attention, after all; it must have been my chosen method of coping with feelings of inadequacy as I matured.

I no longer think this is so.

I think I just always liked sex.

And I don't think that people who find that out about me have the right to say that it must be because I am trying to bolster my sense of self-worth.

I think about the decision I made about how to spend my afternoon today, and how I expect nothing from this other person except for him to be on the receiving end of oral sex. I don't expect him to become my boyfriend, secret lover, fwb. I don't expect him to brag about what I do to him to others, so that I can get the attention of others. I just want to enjoy myself; I'm doing this for me, not to prove anything to anyone or try to earn anything.

Isn't that lovely?

I Like Giving Head

Gonna suck a dick today, yup.

Brand new penis for me.

And this time, I feel much more in control.

Read more...Collapse )

On another note, reconnected with the cuckolding friend last night. Hopefully, we'll get to have longer chats in the near future, and we should perhaps be meeting up at some point once I head to the East coast for the new(ish) job.

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