Vulnerable and Real

So, I’ve been an emotional mess.

I’m tired. This is the worst quarter of grad school and I’ve just been… emotional. I’m so tired. I haven’t slept as much or had much time for rest. I’ve been spending too much time alone. I’ve felt this deep neediness and insecurity and loneliness. My brain has not been nice.

We studied these attachment theories, which honestly I fucking hate. We read all of this stuff about kids who didn’t have stable caregivers and how they are fucked for life, how their brains wire poorly and they develop abnormal amygdalas. I just read all of this shit, and it’s all about people like me. They talked about children like me, who’s moms abandoned them and how we cannot form secure attachments and are permanently and irreversibly broken. They talked about kids who’s parents were neglectful, and absent and the children they raise who cannot regulate emotion and can’t form normal connections. And fuck, I hate that.  I hate it.

I hate the idea that someone would read this and think, “well that explains it. Poor fucked up girl. Of course she is this way.”

And then I’m reading this other stuff about how humans crave connection. We need trust and belonging. We are wired from birth to attach and connect and seek intimacy in all kinds of forms. We are balls of fear and longing with center cores of gushy love. We all want to be seen and heard.

Starting the NEW blog

 

Some years ago we started asking ourselves questions. Does monogamy actually work for us? What does it mean if we want to touch other people? Have sex with other people? Have relationships or even love for more than one person?  Would having an orgasm with someone somehow erase what I have with this other person? Would it really?

Could I have sex with others?  Could people I care about have sex with others and we’d still be us?  What if I loved more than one person? At the time I was married, and swinging appealed to me. I had wanted to be a swinger pretty much since I’d learned about what it was. My husband at the time and I discussed it. He was interested at first, but quickly realized he would rather have relationships with others, and we learned about and became poly. And well.. I’m not going to lie. For a lot of reasons, not all of them polyamory, my marriage exploded.

But I was here and I was still poly. I had the capacity and interest in relationships with more than one person at a time. And over the years I had these polyamorous relationships. The most people I was ever dating at once was four, and I do not recommend it. It’s exhausting and basically I was always disappointing somebody.

I read and read and blogged and blogged and lived and talked and tried, and found that hierarchies weren’t for me. I didn’t like primaries and secondaries and never did. Even my husband and I when we first opened up felt that this wouldn’t work for us.  This doesn’t mean that my existing relationships and long term loves don’t have priority with me or that they don’t matter. I am very into honoring commitments and the investment of love and time and experience.  But I liked anyone I dated to be a whole person and to not be arbitrarily forever limited, no matter what, because someone met someone first. This is long and hard to explain. We’ll come back to it.

So.. I’ve been polyamorous for 5 years. And over the years I’ve had occasion to explore, my sexuality, life and all kinds of things. I’ve discovered I’m still interested in swinging and joined a club. I’ve also discovered I’m kinky, and explored that a little bit too. And over time I just kinda discovered that I didnt’ need and didn’t fit super neatly into any tiny box.

Like most humans, I’m complicated. I’m guessing so are you.

So finding myself at need to create a new blog for a variety of reasons I thought about the next chapter. What did I want to write? It wasn’t going to be just a blog on polyamory. And it wasn’t a blog just on swinging. Or a blog even just on dating.

Love, Sex and Relationships have always interested me and are fodder for an infinite stream of thought. It’s also a stream for profound connection and I’ve made so many friends here on this journey of ethical non-monogamy, of honest open relating. And it occurred to me this new little blog could be something else.

I could have blogs on all of these open sex and love and relationships, and could invite a friend to contribute here and there too. We could have interviews and podcasts and links. In non-monogamy, in so many ways we are all defining for ourselves what any of these words and labels mean, and how they fit us, if at all.  And we’re the architects of the connections we are creating. And that’s beautiful but it’s scary and difficult too. And I learn a lot from my friends, and hope you do too.

There’s a weird thing that happens when we start asking ourselves all of these questions. We find and create the love and sex and relationships we crave, and we walk off of the path that doing things the way we were told to creates.  I have found the blogger community so informative and supportive. Starting this new broader blog, I hope that continues.

However you got here and whatever brings you, welcome. I hope to hear from you in comments or emails or on facebook or twitter or any of the other places.

I’m so excited at this next chapter. Here’s to open love and sex and relationships. Here’s to new blogs.

– Thanks for reading!

Holly

Making Time

Poly people are busy, yo.  Heh.  Like you didn’t know that.  Sometimes things become a colorful mess on Google Calendar, and then what do you do?

Poly people are even busier when they are in grad school and when they are working nearly 60 hours a week and when they are doing renovations.  I’m sure that holds for “when they are parents” and “When they are care taking for loved ones” and a host of other things.

La Petit Mort Ballet via Tumbler

My poor Traveler has had to work like a mad man.  He was out of town.   Then on our date when he got home he fell asleep at 830pm.  We went to dinner and came home and he passed out.. just like that.  A quickie before renovations and the big game. The SuperBowl we all got to spend together, a few hours with Quinky Girl for him, and he had to work till 1030 and we snuggled and slept.  Then our next date he had to take off work for something Quinky needed for the renovation and he had to work all night to make it up.  Then again, he got off early for reno and had to work all night on our date.  Basically I’ve fed him, burped him, and put him to bed on every date we’ve had for two weeks.  (Okay.. minus the burping). Then finally a Saturday night, but we spent it at Quinky Girl’s boyfriend’s party and again.. asleep.  Thank god we love getting all wrapped up and snuggly in our sleep!

Let’s not even mention that two of those working and sleep dates I was working on deadlines too or that the working dates generally started about 2 hours before bed.  Poor Traveler was EXHAUSTED and just fraught.  I tried to soothe him and make it as nice as possible.  What can you do?  Sometimes life is crazy.  The only time we were alone and he wasn’t working we spent doing demo, and that was an amazing godsend.  It felt good to connect with him.

La Petit Mort Texas Ballet

Playground

August 10th is a hard day for me.  I wrote a very long very rambling blog about this anniversary last year. It was the day my ex-husband and I got married, and the day my father died (different years).  My father died on my 10 year wedding anniversary.  And a year later my ex-husband and I opened our marriage a couple of days after our anniversary.  And a year after that we were separated.  And a year after that we were divorced.  And this year, well.. it’s been a while.

It took a long long long time, but I finally accepted I’ll never really understand what happened with my ex-husband and me.  And it’s been a couple of years longer than that with the loss of my father and I accepted I’ll never fully understand that either.  Thinking about both of them isn’t the white hot poker of pain it once was.  I suppose my active mourning is over and I’ve moved on.  But some associations are so huge they’ll never be erased, and so.. August 10th.

For some reason this week I was thinking of the little things I miss about my ex-husband.  I’ll just say that I’ve been nostalgic and not bore you with a list.  I had this vivid memory though, a time I’d nearly forgotten.

He and I took a walk in our neighborhood.  We were just wandering around at night like I like to do.  I still do this sometimes, get driven out of my house in the dark to wander.  I’ve done it my whole life.  We were walking in salt lake Hawaii, a million years ago, some time in 2000.  We walked into a park and played on the swings and the slide and the jungle gym.  We crawled up into this kid’s play thing with the bridge and the rope net and laid on our backs looking at the sky and talking.  It was late and we were just talking and talking and talking.  We knew it was something like 2am, and we were both in the military and knew we had to get to work at 530am or so, but we just weren’t ready to stop talking or to head home.  I had this moment where I knew laying there with him that I’d love him forever.  He was talking about something with his job and telling me his reaction to things and it was about how he wanted to do good and how someone kept getting in the way of this task, and how small it made him feel, to struggle like that at work with someone.  He wasn’t thinking about what he was saying to me. He was just so unguarded.  He talked about his fear in the situation and I remember seeing him then as he must have been as a boy.  I saw right down into his marrow.  I loved every drop of goodness in him and I teared up with love for him, thanking the stars it was dark so I wouldn’t break the spell.

We ended up kissing and talking and petting each other until just before dawn.  And we made love on that jungle gym with wild abandon.  We forgot where we were and paid no attention to anything but each other, fucking long and hard and fast and slow, completely naked on a playground in a big empty park.  We kissed and kissed, sharing breath with each other, looked into each other, got lost in each other.  I could not breathe but I could not stop kissing him and I could not stop moving with him.  When we both came he was still hard for a long time, and I rode him again, slowly, with our eyes locked together.  He couldn’t come again that fast and I didn’t care about an orgasm for myself either.  We just wanted to keep the spell.  We stopped after a bit because it was getting light.  We dressed in the chill damp morning light, giggling at ourselves staying up all night talking and fucking in a park.  I didn’t shower for work that day.  I wanted to smell like him.  God that was a long time ago.  It was a whole other universe ago.  After the divorce I dug up the letter he wrote me that morning.  I had forgotten all about it.

In the letter he’d talked about the night we’d just had, and told me that he knew on the jungle gym, when we were talking and before the sexy stuff, that he would love me forever.  It was about the time I’d known that about him too.

And it’s true.  I think I’ll love him until the day I die, and not being with him and not having contact with him and being divorced from him doesn’t change that a whit.  I think we were right.  I know I’ll love him forever.  And I hope his new life makes him happy, and I hope he is surrounded by love and life and happiness.  I hope he lives a long long time and is always well loved.

There is a selfish part of me that hopes that someday he will remember me with fondness too.

But even if he doesn’t, I have to thank him from afar for all that we were.  I’ve said this a lot.  All relationships were meant to be.  They just weren’t all meant to be forever.  Maybe things ended because they needed to.  Maybe it was just our time.  As much as it hurt and as hard as it was, I think we are both okay.  I think maybe we are even both happy.  I probably would have stayed with him forever if I could have and I don’t honestly know that that would have been the right thing for us.  Maybe it doesn’t really matter.

I’ll just love him.

I just called to say…

I just talked on the phone.  I talked on the freaking telephone to a man I just started dating.  We talked for no reason at all really, just touching base.  How cool is that?

an old style telephone gleams with it’s rotary dial and it’s big comfy handset.

Nobody talks on the phone anymore here in Seattle.  I swear.  I’ve been dating for YEARS now and this is the first dude I’ve ever dated who texts for like a second and then says, “can we talk on the telephone?”  And he works in a tech type industry (of course).

What a luxury to unwind with my crummy fast food and a nice light conversation with a sexy man.

We need to bring back the phone.  I forgot the simple pleasure of talking to a boy you like on the telephone and having nothing to say really, but loving the sound of his voice, and feeling special because he wanted to talk to you on the phone.

Trust Me

a man whispers to Tori Amos in her music video

There is so much bubbling around in my head, a storm of adventure and love and longing and power and I can’t share.  I not this person of intrigue and I don’t always enjoy the holding, but I hold it.  I don’t want to be the person on the inside.  I never wanted to be alone in here.  How could I know what I’d be handed or how that would change my view.

Oh be careful, so careful what you wish for.  I don’t want to know and I can’t say.  I’m excited, yes, of course.  I can’t pretend I don’t dream of this constantly.  I want to read everyone’s mind.  I often joke about wanting to crack people like a walnut.  I wish for it endlessly.  I wish for it more with some than others.

But it doesn’t always make the world a less lonely place to be let in.  Sometimes it makes the world echo more.   The pressure of silence weighs heavy.  I don’t always know what it all means and I can’t untangle it so easily, bouncing off the walls of my skull, coiling.  It feels wondrously and terrifyingly inclusive.

It’s sick to feel joy at what it means to know, to be on the inside.

And it’s sick that it eats the lining of my stomach.

It’s twisting in my hands and tearing my palms, a dubious gift.

But I can take it.

It’s okay.

I am so fucking honored by trust.

I am so blessed by love.  

Sexy Times Are Lovely Learning Experiences

It’s been mostly real and hard to talk about lately.. good stuff.. just deeper and harder to say, closer to the chest. And then there is sexy adventure.  😉 Traveler and I took a vacation to Idaho for skiing and had a wonderful time. It was so bonding and so wonderful.  All the good talks and all the good meals and all the fun was had.  It was nice just to be together, marveling at the joy of just having time.  And we met our lovely smart funny sexy blogger friend.  The conversation was one of those great ones that is all over and we soon talked like old friends, excitedly sharing info and relating.  It was one of those conversations were I learned a lot of Traveler’s thoughts too on things.  And she was so very sexy, mesmerizing with her beautiful mind and sexy hourglass curves and the enticing slant of her smile. I worry a little that I pushed things maybe further than they were naturally though.  It seemed like flirting and fun were welcome and the kisses fiery and sweet and everyone consented to and seemed to enjoy everything.  Late into the night we found ourselves naked and playing, Traveler and my friend and me. and it was all good, wonderful even, beyond the orgasms and the excitement, but I worried maybe I pushed things.  I would have been happy to just have those kisses, and it was hot, all of it, the kisses and play and all the sexy times that came after, but it’s just something I’ll think of in future situations, to not push so much because I’d rather be left with no doubt and be sure that nobody ever feels pushed and that no hesitancy, however minor, is ignored.  Everyone seemed to have fun and in the morning we all checked in and were good.  In no way was the evening or all that happened a bad thing.  I just want to be sure I always learn what I can. I love what threesomes teach me about myself, about someone new, and about my partner.  I’m still processing good things.

A redheaded woman reclines in the water, from pinterest.com

Adieu

Traveler is about to travel a lot again for a while.  Dammit.  Over the next few months he’s gone during the week more than he is home.  Eh.  It is what it is.  I used to be a Navy wife.  It’s been a while but I got this.

Having said all of that… I’m spoiled.  I’m used to seeing him a few nights a week. So I’m soaking it all up now.  And this coming weekend we are off to a ski vacation together.  It’s 4 days and one really sweet mountain, a condo with a private hot-tub on a river, a snuggly fireplace, walking distance to cocktails and a well stocked kitchen to cook in together.  AND, I’m finally meeting a sexy blogger friend.  I’m not gonna lie people.  I have no expectations and no assumptions, but I have hope.

A backlit couple kiss underwater in the deep

I. am. stoked.

And Traveler sent himself off this week with a date to tide me over.

Sharing

I love it when I hit a little jag and spiral on a sexy interest.  It fascinates and excites me.

I’m still having fun chatting with people from Craigslist, even if I met a couple people that were totally not a good fit, one that totally was a great fit and that never contacted me again, and one that I had the fun night with.  But an old desire might be eclipsing my little jaunt into the world of rare and fun casual sex with dudes from Craigslist.

It’s women.  More specifically it’s women to share.

My Love. Hmm. My love.

A man looking at a woman caressing his face found at: http://1.bp.blogspot.com

My love.  Hmm.. my love.

My fingers happily remember the trace of your face.  Your skin, glowing with trapped sunshine, is velveteen and warm.  I trace my fingertips so lightly on your face and trail them down your jaw, reveling in the way you tip up your chin, tilt your head back, and sigh.  Your mouth curves in a smile at the pleasure of my touch.  And my fingers slide, electrons dancing between us, down your throat and along your collar bone.  My touch is the lightest of touches, magic fingers dancing lightly and slowly on the curves on your collar bone.  Your eyes open and meet mine, and your mouth parts just the slightest bit to allow you to sigh.

I pull your mouth down onto mine.  I kiss you.  Your mouth is soft and warm and gives to me.  I love the throaty way you hum when I kiss you.  I like to tease my lips on yours before pressing warm and soft.  I pull your body to me.

I could look at you forever.  I love every curve of your face.  I love your brow and your hairline and I can’t stop touching everything.  I love your nose and your soft ears.  I love your tiny lines, your face still so youthful and becoming more handsome with time.  I love the molasses you release in me with your kisses.  I love the dizzying way I feel drunk with you.  Exchanging breath with you, touching, looking, tasting, I feel my need arise.  I can feel my blood coming to the surface of my skin and my warm flush of response to you.  I smile naughtily.  I love everything that is in your eyes right now.