Tuesday, March 31, 2009

My anthem.

I don't generally post song lyrics, since in the past that has signaled the beginning of the end for my blogs, as they devolved into collections of song lyrics... But I'm not afraid of that happening here (at least anytime soon... I may have to take up blogging professionally if I don't start having some luck with finding a job), and I've been totally hooked on music lately, and although this isn't a new song, it IS basically my life. And my mantra. And I LOVE it.

So, here it is. My anthem. Misery Business by Paramore.

I'm in the business of misery,
Let's take it from the top.
She's got a body like an hourglass it's ticking like a clock.
It's a matter of time before we all run out,
When I thought he was mine she caught him by the mouth.

I waited eight long months,
She finally set him free.
I told him I can't lie he was the only one for me.
Two weeks and we caught on fire,
She's got it out for me,
But I wear the biggest smile.

Whoa, I never meant to brag
But I got him where I want him now.
Whoa, it was never my intention to break.
Just steal it all away from you now.
But God does it feel so good,
Cause I got him where I want him now.
And if you could then you know you would.
Cause God it just feels so,
It just feels so good.

Second chances they don't ever matter, people never change.
Once a whore you're nothing more, I'm sorry, that'll never change.
And about forgiveness, we're both supposed to have exchanged.
I'm sorry honey, but I'm passin' up, now look this way.
Well there's a million other girls who do it just like you.
Looking as innocent as possible to get to who,
They want and what they like it's easy if you do it right.

Well I refuse, I refuse, I refuse!

Whoa, I never meant to brag
But I got him where I want him now.
Whoa, it was never my intention to break
Just steal it all away from you now.
But God does it feel so good,
Cause I got him where I want him right now.
And if you could then you know you would.
Cause God it just feels so,
It just feels so good.

I watched his wildest dreams come true
Not one of them involving you
Just watch my wildest dreams come true
Not one of them involving.

Whoa, I never meant to brag,
But I got him where I want him now.

Whoa, I never meant to break
But I got him where I want him now.
Whoa, it was never my intention to break
Just steal it all away from you now.
But God does it feel so good,
Cause I got what I wanted now
And if you could then you know you would.
Cause God it just feels so,
It just feels so good.

Monday, March 30, 2009

Break-ups in non-monogamy

Given the blowout with Edward, this is something I've been thinking about lately.

I haven't actually had much cause to end any of my non-monogamous relationships. I mean, things with nonboyfriend were always knowingly short-lived, but primarily ended because we were both leaving town. As for my other partners, well, even though I've left town (admittedly with the intention of coming back), they're still my partners, for all intents and purposes. As much as one can be without being in the same state. (Something on which my views could fill an entire other entry.) The lack of breakups are also made easier by the fact that I move across the country (and sometimes across the world) every four months. It makes for an easy break with few complications.

But in about six weeks, I'm graduating college. And moving back. For good. No more packing up my life every four months, no more transient lifestyle. And consequently, no more transient relationships. It's a thought that's made me a little nervous, especially regarding a few people, like Friend, with whom my relationship has always been necessarily secretive and aided by the fact that we COULDN'T spend much time together. There's a nagging fear in the back of my mind that he won't like me or want me when he can see me any time. Then again, many of those fears were calmed with the vacation he and I took to see the Pilot, where we spent more time together than we have in the 15 years we've known each other, and managed not only to come out unscathed, but, as far as I can tell, still quite fond of one another. These are good things. And make me think that maybe such relationships will survive me being in the same place for a somewhat extended period of time. I can't decide if I think it's strange that my being in the same place would harm my relationships or not.

But then, there are of course drawbacks to going home. Some loose ends, as it were. Some I'm not particularly worried about as I'm sure they'll tie themselves up as they see fit (nonboyfriend being the only one left there, since both Edward and P have removed themselves). But there are some others that I think will likely result in me needing to end the relationship. And I'm not very good at that.

For one, I don't have a ton of practice in relationships where breaking up has even been an option (you don't exactly break-up with a fuckbuddy, a one-night-stand or a no-strings-attached FwB). And in those relationships where breaking up has happened, I'm usually the one being left. Notably, it's historically been for something I've done wrong, but nevertheless, I'm not the one having to administer "the talk." So I don't have much practice in breaking things off with people in the first place. Save for those, like Edward, who make it easy for me to just never speak to them again.

But I do have at least one relationship - although I thought I'd tied it up - that it looks like I'll have to re-affirm my breaking off of the thing. But here's the thing. To me it seems like it might be a little more complicated to do so while still sparing feelings, given my open non-monogamy views. I don't dislike this person, he's a fine guy, we just aren't an exceptionally good match. I get the impression he really likes me, which, in the first place, makes me nervous, but I also get the impression that he isn't as comfortable with my non-monogamy and sexuality as much as he finds it a novelty. He's told me that he'd harbored a crush for me for a few years and the chance to be with me was kind of the fulfillment of a fantasy... Again, something nice to say, but it raises red flags in my I-don't-want-anyone-too-close radar.

Now, I thought I had made it clear to him that we were over when I left home this past time. We went on a goodbye date and everything (his idea). He's dated someone else in the meantime (to the facebook-official level... something he wanted me to do but that I was uncomfortable with), and has since broken up with her. I don't have details on that. But he's recently started calling me again, and today he sent me a facebook message, simply saying "Just because you are incredibly gorgeous doesn't mean you get to be on my mind all the time! ;-)"

Again, nice sentiment. But concerns me. Actually, makes me a little uncomfortable. I didn't respond to it. And I'm not sure how to make it clear to him that I'm not interested in being with him again. While still sparing his feelings. Like I said, he's a fine person, I just don't want to be in a relationship with him.

But he knows I'm non-monogamous, so the "I've met someone else" or "I'm not looking for a relationship" feels disgenuine. He knows I'm in other relationships and is ostensibly OK with that, so it seems to remove some of my reason for breaking things off with him. We only had sex once while we were together before - partially because he's somewhat proper (well, until he's topping me, ha) and partially because I didn't try as hard as I could have to work around my schedule to make time for us to be alone in my apartment/bed. The sex itself was fine. I enjoyed it. But it wasn't anything particularly special. And I certainly have better sex with my other partners on a regular basis. And, quite frankly, the kind of sex I had with him (and that we talked about having) was similar to the kind of sex Jacob and I have. But it's way hotter with Jacob. Jacob is more in-tune and receptive to me and knows my body better. He does a much better job of fulfilling those desires.

But it seems a little cruel to tell him I'm dumping him because he's not "good enough" in bed. Yeah, yeah, sex is important to me, but so are people's feelings. Believe it or not.

And then there's the fact that I would, actually, like to continue seeing him as a friend. I do mean a friend without benefits, because the benefits seem to complicate things between us... but friends, nonetheless. This is probably a minor point, because, were I to actually get this far in explaining things to him and he said he didn't think we could be friends, I would live with that. It would certainly be sad to lose a friend, but frankly, I wouldn't be crushed.

But I don't know how to approach him with all this. My honesty-is-the-best-policy seems a little heartless here, since the honest truth isn't that I don't like him, just that I don't like him ENOUGH to keep him as a partner. So. What the hell do I do?

And then as I'm writing this it's sounding like I don't think I have the option to be discerning when choosing who my partners are. Hmm. Maybe Edward got to me more than I thought he did.

Saturday, March 28, 2009

The end of Edward.

Yes, the end of him. I'm not doing this anymore. He went too far. At least, I believe he did. I don't think I deserved what I got last night.

I usually don't post texts and messages in their entirety, but I think in the interest of fairness, and in me trying to see if I really did ask for this, I'm going to publish the whole interaction. It stretched from about 330 in the afternoon, when he started texting me about my facebook status - which were song lyrics from the emo song "Almost," saying "Sasha...Almost had you, but I guess that doesn't cut it - I almost wish you would have loved me too."

Edward: Almost had who... may I ask.. sorry, just read your facebook.
Sasha: Oh, they're just song lyrics. But they could apply to a couple people in my life, ha. Why?
Edward: Nothin...
Sasha: No, what's up?
Edward: So... no biggie, just a little jealous.
Sasha: Ha. Jealous of what?
Edward: idk, nothing I guess. nevermind, just me being silly.
Sasha: Ha. Don't worry, you're my only almost lover. hehe.
Edward: only almost lover?
Sasha: More song lyrics. Look it up - it's a pretty song!
Edward: whats that mean for me as an almost lover... sorry for my mild jealousy but i kind of consider you property of Edward... in a way. ;)
Sasha: What do you mean by that? Elaborate, please.
Edward: mine... maybe.
Sasha: Repeating yourself doesn't count as elaboration.
Edward: your my baby, my love, my dream girl, my sex goddess, and in my mind my one and only.
Sasha: (silence)
Edward: ...maybe.
Sasha: Wow.
Edward: ...sorry :(
Sasha: No, no. Nothing to apologize for. It's just... intense.
Edward: almost a decade of being in love with someone does that.
Sasha: (silence)
Edward: ... wow i feel dumb now. :(
Sasha: No, you're not dumb. It's just me. You know I'm weird about people telling me they love me slash romanticism.
Edward: even slash a person who's in love with you... kinda stings knowing my feelings for ya aren't mutual... oh wells i still do love ya. cant change a heart.
Sasha: I wasn't trying to. Really, these are just my issues with people.
Edward: i didn't think I was just anyone. i figured after so many years doing nothing but love you would put me a lil bit higher up on your list. but ok i understand.
Sasha: No no, don't do that.
Edward: ...yeah... nevermind forget i said anything. at all.
Sasha: I will not! I just wish I could make you understand.
Edward: what, i get it. no worries just forget i made an ass of myself.
Sasha: Shit. Why do I always do this? Please don't be mad at me.
Edward: im not mad at you, just upset with myself for acting like a idiotic jack ass.
Sasha: Don't do that. These are my issues. Sometime I probably should walk you through my theories on relationships and how i live my life now. Might help explain me.
Edward: no, trust me i understand. after all its me, not really a great catch to go loving all willy nilly... or something. idk whatever.
Sasha: That's not it at all.
Edward: yeah... well im just a sex toy. i get it.
Sasha: Dammit. How can I make you understand that the issue here is me?
Edward: yeah, of course. no worries i understand and ill be fine. and im not mad at you so everything is fine.
Sasha: Goddammit.
Edward: yeah, its fine. you cant love me back. thats fine.
Sasha:This seems like a shitty way to have this conversation. But yes, I have ridiculous issues w falling in love. It scares me shitless.
Edward: ill just have to learn to share... or something... idk i dont feel too good right now.
Sasha: I'm sorry. I wish you'd let me explain.
Edward: no need to explain or any need to stay tied down to just one person. you just cant love me back. i completely understand. but i cant see a future with me, you, and whoever else may be tossed into the mix. im not a fan of sharing someone i genuinely care for. obviously too much for my own good.
Sasha: Well then i'm sorry that my view that monogamy has no bearing on affection or relationship success or importance isn't something you agree with.
Edward: ... yeah... in other words just me isnt enough. forget it. im not feeling so good so enjoy whoever with whatever. bye now.
Sasha: OK. This obviously isn't something you can deal with. I understand that. When you want to have an actual grownup discussion, let me know.
Edward: actual grownup discussion about what, how i love you and want yo be only yours but me alone wouldnt be enough for you, or even capable of caring back for me?
Sasha: No, a grownup conversation about realistic relationship possibilities that make people happy, where everyone gets what they need WITHOUT all the drama that destroys people and relationships and love.
Edward: there's nothing really to discuss, you dont want just me, or even me at all really. i love you too much to allow myself to be in any kind of multiple partner relationship. so yeah.
Edward: so i want and love you, you want more than love me, and cant love me back... pure and simple. so i understand, and im sorry im not ok being just one of your many toys.
Sasha: No, I never said I can't (or even don't) love you back.
Edward: yeah, and where i get to sit around while you fuck around with other guys. sorry but no.
Edward: simply put me, and my feelings for you are not what you want... at least not only what you want. so fine, ill pick up the pieces from you once again, and try to move on. i hoped id be the only you wanted but oh the fuck well. not gonna let anyone, especially you hurt me again. not again.
Sasha: Stop that! Goddammit how can I have a conversation w you if you just jump straight to the guilt trip? You make me so fucking angry that I can't see straight. Swear to god were you here I would scream at you then kiss you until you got over yourself long enough to shut up and listen to me.
Edward: listen to what, i got everything youd try and tell me. fuck monogamy and all that right... ill take your advice then. Edward the whore is back... yay.
Sasha: Fine. Do what you need to to make yourself feel better. And blame me or whatever you need. And maybe when you're done being angry at me again you'll want me. Because I will still want you. I want you and I want you to be happy. Sometimes those seem like mutually exclusive things.
Edward: but you dont want just me, so thats the point... i give the fuck up. no amount of caring for anyone makes up for being hurt. not again.
Sasha: I never set out to hurt you. And I am sorry if my honesty did that. And I'm sorry that I don't want an exclusive relationship right now. I fuck those up too easily. Altough it looks like I've done a bang-up job on this one, too.
Edward: i dont blame you. your just incapable of producing the same feelings i do. i only blame myself for being such an naieve ignorant jack ass. sorry. bye.
Sasha: Tell yourself whatever you need to. Like I said, when you want to give me a chance, or at least make an effort to know who I am, let me know.
Edward: yep. shouldve known it would come to this. you have no reason or right to give an ounce of shit about me. so enjoy who ever with whatever. hope its fun and fulfilling for you. goodbye sasha.
Sasha: OK. Just keep going ahead with the guilt-trip. I'll fall back on those people who don't make me feel like shit for being who I am. Good luck with everything.
Edward: ha... i cant believe i thought you actually cared about me. what the hell was i thinking. hahaha.
Edward: i think i got ya figured out. cant believe i thought you wanted me. ha.
Edward: yeah you too. enjoy your other lil toys. hope none of them fall for ya.
Sasha: Yeah, me too. Maybe they won't get such a kick out of trying to make me feel like a whore.
Edward: whatever. all i wanted was to be cared about like i do for you. but just one dick apparently isnt enough for Sasha. yay.

And there is where I threw the phone across the room, and it broke into five pieces. I think I terrified my roommates. Nevertheless, I slammed the rest of my drink, picked up the phone and went back to my room. When I came back a few minutes later, I asked my roommates if I could have some of their vodka, they both just stammered out "yeah yeah yeah of course, whatever you want!"

I didn't respond to Edward again throughout the rest of the night. But I didn't quite have the self restraint to not open the text messages he kept sending me.

Edward: god, i wasted fucking years on someone who i never be "good enough" for... fuck this shit im fucking done. ill just go do what you do.

Edward: none the less, i promise to never bother you a fucking gain. no need to be guilt trip for no reason.

Edward: god damn it Sasha why'd you have to fool me for so fucking long into thinking i mattered to you. god damn it!

Edward: what? you dont think i deserve a response as to why you bullshitted me for these past couple of years? or are you too busy fucking around with your other toys?



Edward: yeah, didnt fucking think you had a reason.

Edward: just one more regret in my life. goodbye then Sasha, enjoy your life without me guilt tripping you or burdening you again.

Here is where he started calling me. I didn't answer. He called at least once between each o the following texts.

Edward: hmph. guess i didnt matter that much then. fine.

Edward: ... so ignoring me. fun. and here i was trying to salvage something, but i guess not then. enjoy yourself now .

Edward: my last attempt at salvage sasha. tonight or never. and seriously you will never hear from me again unless i get some kind of semblance to an explanation.

Edward: i merely wish to know why ive been bullshitted by the one person i actually trusted. why? if no answer then a permanent fairwell.

Edward: well then, you have fun now. goodbye sasha and take care, sicne you only want one... no wait many things. use a condom now. bye.

Edward: ill be sure to erase any way of us contacting each other again. facebook, phone number, everything. enjoy yourself now.


Edward: so when your done getting your fill, it be at lest decent of you to explain. if you gave even an ounce of fuck about me... ever. then at least give me that.

Edward: do you really not give a flying fuck about me enough to at least give me that?!? id like how you hurt me to not destroy me more than necessary, so how bout it?

Edward: fine, ill just do the one thing i knoe will curb broken feelings. forget i asked anything of you. ever.

Edward: could you take who's ever cock out of your mouth for a second to fucking talk to me? im hurting here in more ways than one.

The last message was left at 2:48 am.
And then he abandoned the text messages in favor of voicemails.

"I still believe I deserve some kind of fucking explanation from you goddammit. I mean, fuck, I poured almost a fucking decade into trying to be with you, just to have you fuck me over, hell, worse than you've ever done. And why? It's nice to know how much you actually give a fuck about me. Yknow I really thought if anyone would be honest and not bullshit me, it woulda been you."

"Could you stop being a bitch for like five fucking minutes? Maybe? Or not, which fucking ever. God... damn. I cannot believe you did this again. Oh I am so fucking stupid. Wow."

When I threw my phone and went into my room, I couldn't hold back the tears. I was so angry. And so hurt. And felt ridiculously alone. They were the exact same feelings I used to have when ex hit and/or screamed at me. I just wanted to curl up into a little ball. I could tell myself, intellectually, that he was being childish, that he was just trying to get a rise out of me, but emotionally, he was beating me down. It was working. I sent out a few frantic texts and clung to my computer, hoping I'd find someone online who I could talk to who might not think I'm a life-ruining whore. Thank god, the Pilot was on. I had to reboot my computer, but then we started Skyping.

I still feel bad for unloading so heavily on him. He actually saw me crying (and the requisite coping mechanism, drinking), and I'm sure I was blubbery and not making any sense as he tried desperately to reason with me. But he was amazing. He stayed on Skype with me for well over two hours. Making me laugh, plotting Edward's demise... and telling me not to answer every time Edward called me. The final count was 26 times, the last one at about 315am.

Roomie also happened to be online in New Zealand, so she repeated the things I'd said to her the night before about our pasts not defining us and there being nothing wrong with being who we are. Again, it's one of those things I knew, intellectually, but my irrational emotions were winning over. At one point, she asked me how I was feeling about the whole thing, and I just said "i feel like a whore who won't ever be loved." This was her response:
"I admire you so much for how comfortable you are with your sexuality and how fearless you always are. Like you said, you shouldn't let anyone make you feel like shit for the things in your past. They're just things you've done, they're not who you are. As for never being loved, I love you, so you know that's not true. I know that there is someone out there that is amazing and worthy of you, and you'll find them because you are amazing. You have this energy that sucks people in. You deserve to be happy, and I know you will find overwhelming happiness."

And it helped.

A couple hours after the Pilot and I had started talking, Friend logged on to AIM as well. (I'd texted him asking if he was around.) The three of us chatted as they made more plans for Edward's destruction, and did their best to convince my intoxicated, emotional ass that I wasn't a whore and that I was loved. They did an amazing job. Some of it was reason, some of it was emotional appeal, mixed in with a lot of reminding me that they both love me. When it was becoming apparent that Edward wasn't going to let up (and I, in my stubborness, wasn't going to turn off my phone), the Pilot suggested he call me and we take a walk together. (Virtually, of course.) I put shoes on, but then remembered that it isn't particularly safe to walk around alone at 3am in my neighborhood, not to mention it was 45 degrees and I was already shivering from the drinking... But I still called him, and then we dialed in Friend, and I curled up in my bed.

It was so soothing to hear their voices. And hearing them together, it was like we were all actually together, back with the witty banter. The only thing that could have made it better were if they were actually there with me, because if they were, I know I would have been getting more cuddling and love than I'd even know what to do with.

Bear checked in periodically through the evening, although he was out doing things and so didn't get the worst of my meltdown. He did, however, send me the song he said he chose for me (after my selecting "My life would suck without you" for him. Here it is:

The Pilot and Friend stayed on the phone with me until 4am, when I promised I'd go to sleep. I thanked them, not knowing how I would have coped if I hadn't had them there for me. I told them I love them, they reminded me they love me, too. And I believed them. And didn't feel so worthless anymore.

I got up to get ready for bed and couldn't help but look at my facebook. Edward had sent me a message, but this time, reading it didn't make me crumble. I think my boys got through to me. In any case, here's the message:
"... Thank you for helping realize how fucking ignorant i was over you. Its been so long since i've had my heart broken i almost forgot how much it really hurts. Hope this whole thing makes you a bit happiier. Enjoy your life sasha, without me. You didnt lose me, i lost you. Goodbye and thanks again, i promise i wont allow myself to be so fucking naive again."

And the only thing I could think, was how much more I WILL enjoy my life without him. And how incredibly lucky I am to have so many people who love me. And are willing to give up their friday night to console me, thousands of miles away though I may be. The Pilot called me this morning to make sure I was alive and in one piece (he'd seen the worst of it... I think I scared him a little. I'm sorry for that, dear.). Edward called me again right after the Pilot did, and just left me an empty voicemail.

So I've published everything here as a way of purging it all. It's deleted from my phone, from my inbox... He's deleted from my life. It feels good. I have more than enough love in my life, and thanks to those people, I even think I might deserve some of it. And I'm pretty confident I didn't deserve how Edward treated me. I didn't lie to him, although he begs to differ. And actually, reading through all this, I can't exactly find the point where I did anything wrong. Where I lied to him or broke him or anything. If anyone else can, I'd love to know.

In the meantime, though, I'm going to go back to revelling in my wonderful life, full of incredible people who make it worth living. Thank you to all of you. I love you very, very much.


Wednesday, March 25, 2009

I am a greedy whore.

No, really.

I hadn't been able to sleep on the second leg of my flight. I was too jittery and excited and just couldn't stop smiling. I must have looked like an idiot, a shit-eating grin on my face as we touched down at the airport just after midnight. But I knew Friend was waiting for me at the airport and that the Pilot would be there momentarily to pick us up. I nearly sprinted off the plane and to the train to baggage claim. (Wow, that was a lot of unintentional rhyming.) I found Friend sitting on a bench, a giant backpacking pack at his feet. As calmly as I could (as if he didn't know how excited I was to be there and seeing him), I walked up to him and said something stupid like "hey, don't I know you?" There were hugs, and we called the Pilot, who rolled up shortly thereafter. We decided midnight meals were in order, and after an unsuccessful effort to find an open Village Inn, settled for Denny's. (Which, by the way, were springing up like weeds... I think the final count was 8 or 9 in the same stretch of state?) The snarky, witty, nerdy conversation ensued basically immediately. I've known both boys for years, and while they've kept better touch with one another consistently than I have, I feel like I fit seamlessly into their friendship. It's a nice feeling. Of course, we tend to be very silly when we all get together, and most conversations eventually end up reduced to naked and/or sex jokes. Which is also awesome.

We had to drive for about an hour to get back to the Pilot's apartment, meaning it was somewhere around 2am. For some ridiculous reason, we decided to nerd out and watch Firefly. And drink rum. The Pilot is part pirate, and as such, LOVES rum. He was starting to devise some kind of drinking game involving taking a drink every time a character swore without really doing so, but he was basically the only one playing. Friend and I each had maybe a glass of rum by the time the Pilot had three and was relatively sauced. From some kind of semi-fateful misunderstanding, I'd told the Pilot ahead of time that we could all just share his bed. And, seeing as how both Friend and the Pilot are straight (or at most hetero-flexible, to borrow Friend's phrasing), and because, yknow, I'm a cuddle whore, I climbed into the middle of the bed. And then things got interesting.

I should mention that, in general, Friend and I are very silly with one another. Especially when it comes to sex. It's one of my favorite things about him, not only does he make me laugh, but he does so at exceedingly appropriate times and is excellent at diffusing a tense situation and helping me put things in perspective. As such, the sex we have is lighthearted and fun - which doesn't make it any less hot or memorable, but does set it apart from most other partners I've had.

In classic fashion, as I was lying between the two boys, Friend made some comment about how it was silly that I was wearing a shirt, since I had perfectly good breasts that shouldn't be hidden. Or something to that effect. I just giggled, and without much convincing, shed my shirt. At which point, I had a hand on each breast - one belonging to each boy. Friend made another joke, and started kissing my neck, biting my earlobe... pointing out to the Pilot that he should do the same and see what kind of reaction it elicited. They made the requisite snarky, cocky comments when my breathing became audibly louder. Hands started running up and down my body. Friend and the Pilot have very different touches, and it was electrifying feeling the two sensations simultaneously. As I've come to expect, Friend's touch is softer, more sensual. The Pilot, running his hands up and down the right side of my body, had a stronger touch - it seemed more urgent, hungrier. Even before anyone had moved his hands below my waist, my body was buzzing. Friend turned my face to his, both his hands on my jaw, and kissed me. So began my first boy-girl-boy threesome. And the fulfillment of a fantasy I've had for years.

(On a side note, I've started noticing that perhaps having one's lovers read one's blog is a good plan. It's a good way for them to take note of what you do and don't like, without having to burden oneself with actually telling them... *snicker*)

The Pilot knew Friend and I have been together, and I'm not sure he was originally sure how he would fit into the scenario. So I turned to him, and kissed him, too. And I have to say that in that moment, I started to feel a little like a sex goddess. That's probably an entirely unearned title, but it's how I felt. Understandably, I think, given that I had two men basically worshipping me. It's hard not to feel pretty fucking hot.

Friend, for his part, kept the tone characteristically light, which I think sometimes bugged the Pilot, who takes sex much more seriously. (Again, something that was evident even in the way they touched me.) My style is probably something of a combination of the two - I can certainly roll with either, and it was a fascinating experience having the two combined. I'd love to say I played some crucial role in mediating between the two, but the truth is I was so flabergasted by what was happening that I probably wasn't much help at all. I just kept floating higher and higher, existing on some other plane where things like this actually happen.

Throughout the entire encounter, Friend emerged as the kind of leader, or perhaps the director. He and I don't do much with a dom/sub dichotomy (although he's usually in charge, and has no problem pinning my hands down or pulling my hair to put me where he wants me), but he stepped into this quiet dominance part in this situation. I think some of it was, as we hadn't discussed anything about this with all three of us, we were kind of improvising and needed someone willing to direct things in some sense. And I think some of it was, for all that I suspect the Pilot has quite a bit of a dom personality buried in him, he was still a little unsure about what was and wasn't allowed. And I will admit that it was lovely to just sit back and enjoy, totally absorbed in the sensations, knowing that Friend was looking out for me and knows me so well that I can trust him completely. So things progressed.

Both guys went down on me - which is a big deal for me, as it's something I'm not exceptionally comfortable with. Of course, like most of the things that night, I was a little too blissed out to be self-conscious. Which, again, was a nice change of pace. And again, getting the undivided attention of two men at the same time doesn't hurt a girl's ego, either. At one point, Friend got up and came back with ice cubes, which melted on my overheated skin accompanied by my whimpers and squirming. Friend would periodically look at me and just shake his head, saying, "You are SO spoiled." I'd smile and giggle out, "Oh, I know. It's awesome."

Somewhere about three hours in (yes, THREE HOURS), the actual sex began. I don't recall exactly how the arrangement came to be (then again, most of the evening wasn't planned), but I ended up facing Friend while the Pilot fucked me from behind, spoon-style. Wow. What a mind-fuck. And talk about a very strange way to be submissive. Making eye contact with your partner while you're being fucked by someone else... I'm not even sure I can verbalize the sensation. I felt empowered, sexy, desired, while at the same time feeling very vulnerable and submissive and even a little objectified (in a good, consensual kind of way). Looking at Friend, it was like I was asking his permission, even though he'd obviously already granted it. Again, he would take my face in his hands, kiss me deeply, pull me back into the moment when I was floating away. He does that sometimes. Usually right when I need him to.

And there was the separate sensation of pleasure coming from the Pilot, fucking me. He knew what he was doing. It felt fantastic. I love being fucked from behind, and it had been a long time since I'd had spooning sex, although it's one of my favorites when it works right. And oh, was it working right. His hands were gripping at my hips, pulling me into him, and I know my breathing (more likely panting at this point) was synching up with his thrusts. He came quietly, and we both let out a deep breath. He rolled onto his back, and we all spaced out a little on the bed to start the collective come-down.

The details from there are a little fuzzy. It was definitely a different kind of come-down, and I'm pretty sure I started giggling insanely. (Something that became standard fare for the week we spent together... the boys took to calling it my midnight cat crazies... cat owners will get it.) Eventually, we fell asleep, me still in between both the boys, each of my arms twisted with one of theirs. And I slept well... Sweet dreams weren't even needed. I had just lived one.

If the things I fantasize about keep living up to my expectations, I might have to reevaluate my chronic pessimism.

And as for the title here? It became a running joke for the rest of the week, that I was a greedy whore, just letting the boys pamper me like that. And really, they were right. I just can't promise I'll be changing anytime soon if these are the experiences that trait gets me.

HNT: Lines

So, in my eagerness to escape from the frozen, sunless tundra where I spend nine months of the year, on my southern adventure last week I might have been a little over-zealous with the sun exposure. The Pilot refuses to give me any sympathy, which is probably fair - it is my own fault. However, it's only been a day or two, and the burn has almost entirely faded to a tan. That doesn't mean I don't still have some pretty rockin' tan lines. Ha.


Coming back

I apologize for my absence of late - I've just spent the past week on a combined birthday/spring break vacation, and I must admit, blogging was one of the furthest things from my mind. Friend flew out from home, and I flew south from school to stay with a mutual friend, who we'll call the Pilot. We we spent the week surrounded by sun, sand, more than a little rum, a non-stop soundtrack of 80s music, and oh yeah, a whole lot of sex.

I have a ridiculous amount of gushing/updating to do, and all that will come in the next few days... In the meantime, here's an example of a strikingly appropriate piece of the vacation soundtrack...

Monday, March 16, 2009

Love and non-monogamy.

I've spoken to a few people, and received a few comments here that have led me to think that I've given the impression that I think love and non-monogamy are mutually exclusive. I don't think that.

Not at all, actually.

I am admittedly young and as such necessarily new to expressly non-monogamous relationships. But even my limited experience thus far has been so incredibly positive that it's made me re-think my automatic imaginings of my future as a monogamous one. I have been happier, relationship-wise, in the past year or two that I've embraced polyamory then I've been in quite some time. Some of that is due to a series of particularly wonderful partners - some of whom I'm still with. Overall, they've been honest and warm and welcoming and I've learned things from them about myself and the world and life and love.

Specifically in the case of Friend, probably my most consistent partner (in that we're entirely open with one another and continue to care about each other even when we're not in the same place, and then fall back into our old routine when we are), I have never felt second-rate. I know that he has other partners, and he knows that I do as well. We talk about them. We talk about someday maybe introducing some of them to each other. I have never felt cheated out of time with him or neglected. The terms of our relationship are very clear.

And we tell one another that we love each other on a daily basis. It might not be that epic, fairy-tale OH EM GEE I LOVVVVEEEE YOU style, but it is very real. I love him very much. And I believe he feels the same about me. It's a simple matter of fact. And I'm happy when I'm with him.

And I'm happy when I'm with my other partners. I'm happy when I'm with Jacob. I know for a fact that he loves me. And I love him back. He's been there for me through quite a bit, and he brings something unique to my life. My family likes him, and that makes me happy, although that's not something I ever thought I would care about. He's sweet, and an excellent cuddler, and indulges me in all kinds of wonderful ways. Actually, he tends to spoil me. Sometimes I can't handle it, and I know that actually, in this relationship, it's usually me who's the one hesitant to say I love you. But those are my own issues.

So no, I don't see my non-monogamy as excluding love. And I don't see falling in love with someone as an automatic declaration of monogamy. In fact, it's more likely that the more I cared about someone, the more likely I would be to be honest and open with them about not being monogamous. I've cheated before, and hurt people I really love. I don't ever want to do that. This is the best way I've found to do that.
"I'm sorry I have to say it, but you look like you're sad - your smile is gone, I noticed it bad. The cure is if you let in just a little more love... I promise you this - a little's enough."

It hasn't been flawless, but no life, no relationship, ever is. But instead of saying that non-monogamous people are lacking in love, I argue the opposite - we're the lucky ones in that we're more surrounded by love than most. I can think of two, three, maybe even four people right away who I love in a romantic sense and who love me back. And there's no conflict with that. How can that not be real love?

Some academia.

I've realized recently that this blog used to have a little more of a point. I started it as a place to publish the sex column I was writing for a campus magazine, and occasionally thereafter there were academic, or at least intellectual posts. I fear I've gotten away from that in favor of ranting about my ridiculous relationships. While that's certainly therapeutic for me, it isn't wholly representative of who I am, even just as a writer.

I'm also skating along the border of legitimacy, I feel, as far as blogs go. Certainly, the whole point of the "citizen journalist" and "push-button publishing" is that anyone can be a writer or a journalist, but as I consider myself both of those professionally as well as just a blogger, I think it's time to offer a little glimpse of a different side of me. I've long admired Roland Hulme's book reviews, and wished I was more of a pleasure-reader so I might have some decent content to review. What follows isn't quite that, as the essay was written for a writing class I'm taking at my university, but it does start delving into my academic voice. And it's about queer sexuality, and I'm proud of the final product. So I'm publishing it here. I was assigned to read and analyze Truman Capote's Other Voices, Other Rooms... It was my first time reading Capote, I'm a little ashamed to admit, but I think I tackled the material well, if I do say so myself.

Also, reading it over, I noticed the stark difference in voice between what I write in here and what I write in academically. I suppose that's a good thing, though, right?

If you'd like to buy the book to read for yourself, you can find it on Amazon.

Truman Capote’s Other Voices, Other Rooms, first published in 1948, was the author’s first commercially successful novel, and although he claims he was unaware of it while writing the book, is semi-autobiographical. The story focuses on Joel, a somewhat precocious 13-year-old boy who, after his mother’s death, is sent to live at his estranged father’s home outside Noon City, Alabama. Joel has no recollection nor knowledge of his father, as he was raised solely by his mother and then, for a short time after her passing, by his aunt. In this regard, the book is somewhat autobiographical. Capote did indeed spend many of his formative years in Alabama and, like Joel, lost his mother at a young age. Notably, Capote’s mother committed suicide, whereas Joel’s mother dies of a cause he does not entirely understand – she is simply always cold and then fades away. In fact, this vague description and the questions and details it leaves unresolved is characteristic of Other Voices, Other Rooms. It is a deeply emotional novel, with its sensitive protagonist constantly struggling with the societal imposition of impending manhood and with it, a heteronormative identity. Throughout the novel, Capote’s language relies almost entirely on pathos to move its story forward. Readers are often left wondering what is real and what is imagined, as Capote outright denies his readers a legitimating logos. Logic has little place in Joel’s world of half-truths and mysterious histories, and as such, Capote does not allow his reader more information than has his main character.

From the first introduction to Joel, Capote sets the boy apart from a perceived “normal.” When Sam Radclif, a local truck driver, first sees Joel,

He had his ideas about what a “real” boy should look like, and this kid somehow offended them. He was too pretty, too delicate and fair-skinned; each of his features was shaped with a sensitive accuracy, and a girlish tenderness softened his eyes, which were brown and very large. (10)

Immediately Capote sets apart his protagonist from the heteronormative yet widely accepted perception of the “typical man.” Given the kairos of the novel, and with the knowledge that although he never states the word, Joel (and Capote) eventually recognizes himself as gay, this description seems to immediately “out” Joel. Through the 1950’s and even much of the 1960’s, homosexuality was marked less by same-sex desire than by gender-deviant behavior or presentation. Gay men were considered to be those who were effeminate (regardless of a man’s actual orientation or sexual practices), just as lesbians were those women who were “too masculine.” Given the time period in which Capote was writing, this likely would have been an immediate sign to his readers that Joel might be queer.

But where Capote truly shines is, of course, in his prose. Capote was quoted as saying that his earliest works – those before Breakfast at Tiffany’s and including Other Voices – were a move verbose and, in some regards, indulgent exercise in prose. Nevertheless, it is through his prose in Other Voices that Capote allows the reader a window into Joel’s mind and heart, without once adopting a first-person approach. Perhaps the most striking instance of this comes when Joel, while at a makeshift church service with his friend and housekeeper (and maternal figure), Zoo. At this point in the story, although living in his house for almost a month, Joel still has not seen his father, and has instead fantasized about what he would be like, but those fantasies quickly bring out Joel’s own insecurities and desires. As Zoo demands that Joel pray at the conclusion of the service, Capote writes:

But there was no prayer in Joel’s mind; rather, nothing a net of words could capture, for, with one exception, all his prayers of the past had been simple, concrete requests: God, give me a bicycle, a knife with seven blades, a box of oil paints. Only how, how, could you say something so indefinite, so meaningless as this: God, let me be loved. (79)

This passage is so simple, yet the pain is quite palpable. Without even placing the reader directly in Joel’s shoes with first-person perspective, Capote has created such emotional resonance that the reader can actually feel Joel’s pain. And the simplicity of Joel’s desire, juxtaposed with the implication that he thinks such a notion is ridiculous to ask for all combines to create an incredibly effective sense of pathos. It is precisely this tactic that Capote employs throughout the novel to not only allow readers to identify with Joel, but also to evoke such strong pathos that readers cannot help but empathize with Joel.

It is this identification that likely encourages readers to rejoice, with Joel, when he finally accepts himself for who he is at the end of the novel. Although neither Capote nor Joel ever say the word “homosexual” or “gay,” (although, notably, Joel’s transgender cousin Randolph is openly gay, as readers discover through the course of the book), in the final pages, Joel begins to accept his surroundings. In some sense, his father’s home is a kind of prison – it is secluded, and its residents chastised even from the small town they live near. Yet simultaneously, Capote once again employs ethos to demonstrate to readers that perhaps this isolation was necessary for Joel to truly discover and come to terms with himself – his past, present, and future.

A crazy elation caught hold of Joel, he ran, he zigzagged, he sang, he was in love, he caught a little tree-toad because he loved it and because he loved it he set it free, watched it bounce, bound like the immense leaping of his heart; he hugged himself, alive and glad, and socked the air, butted like a goat, hid behind a bush, jumped out… “I am me,” Joel whooped. “I am Joel, we are the same people.” And he looked for a tree to climb: he would go right to the very top, and there, midway to heaven, he would spread his arms and claim the world… (230)

Joel slipped down from the tree; he had not made the top, but it did not matter, for he knew who he was and he knew that he was strong. (231)

At this precise moment, Capote allows the reader to celebrate in Joel’s revelation along with him. The stream-of-conscious tone associates the words with an adolescent too excited to be bothered with punctuation; with news too important and vital to be kept from anyone. That is exactly what Joel has just discovered in terms of himself. And once again, Capote has illustrated it not through a logical progression or moral revelation, but rather through the simple, honest feelings of his main character.

Capote relies so heavily upon pathos in Other Voices, it could be argued that he quite pointedly ignores logos and ethos. While he makes some reference to morality and appeals to society, these are always portrayed in the third-person and distanced from the protagonist, with whom the reader identifies and empathizes. The ethos of the town or even other members of Joel’s family is portrayed as misguided and often downright cruel and negligent. Similarly, logos has little place in the world Capote has created for Joel. Capote keeps his readers veiled in the same shroud of childlike confusion and half-explanation that the adults in Joel’s life keep him shrouded in. Joel and readers maintain illusions of supernatural happenings throughout, and even at the conclusion of the book, many questions are left unanswered. But, instead of leaving the reader confused or frustrated with so many loose ends, Capote has effectively created a pathos identifying the reader with Joel that the reader is simply happy for Joel to find some resolution and peace within himself and his world.

Friday, March 13, 2009

about P.

I was updating my "featuring" section over the past few days, and I realized that I still have P listed there. And as I tried to edit his description appropriately, I fell short. Because the truth is, I don't know what to say about him anymore. He has, in a subtle yet simultaneously forcible manner, removed himself completely from my life. I haven't spoken to him since he left Colorado at the beginning of the year. I see him online sometimes, and I don't even have to keep my hand from clicking on his name to send a message. (Which might not seem like a big deal, but you should see me try to do the same when I notice Edward or nonboyfriend's name pop up on the screen.) I don't have the slightest idea what's going on with his life. My last memory of him is him looking at me, eyes pleading, begging me not to ask him the questions I so desperately wanted to while we were at a mutual friend's house. He promised me he'd explain some other day. I told him I could wait.

And then I forgot to ask him. I couldn't remember the details about what, exactly, I'd needed to say to him, through my drunken haze.

And it breaks my heart to think that this might really have been the last chance I got to speak to him. And I blew it. I was too damn drunk to function properly, and then too embarrassed to admit as much when he asked me about the conversation a few days later. Our single conversation since was contrived and painfully limited in scope. So reading over his description in my blog, one I wrote over a year ago, physically hurts. I see myself writing words like "soulmate" and "unconditional love" and I realize it's entirely possible that I've lost all that. And what's maybe most interesting and at the same time most painful, is that I'm not mourning the loss of a lover. I'm mourning the loss of a friend. Because he isn't my friend anymore. He hasn't been my lover for some time, and that was something I could deal with. Especially because things never really, fundamentally, changed between us - there were only the logistics of whether or not we were sleeping together that month. He still knew me better than anyone, and I, him. He still understood me without words and knew exactly what I wanted and needed from him. He was never afraid to talk to me, to yell at me, to try to smack some sense into me (metaphysically... he'd never lay a hand on me in any way I didn't want him to). And that is gone.

Because he is moving a world away. And doesn't think long-distance relationships, of any kind, can work. Never mind that before he decided to make this move, he came to me, nearly in tears, saying he couldn't decide between being with me and living out this dream he's had forever that would take him across the globe. Of course, without hesitation, I told him to go for his dream. How could I have done anything else? But sometimes I think he interpreted that as me giving up on him. At the same time, that doesn't make sense, because he knows me better than that. Or at least he used to. Maybe now he doesn't care to.

The last few times I've spoken with him, I've gotten the distinct impression that he's ashamed of me. I have done a lot of shame-worthy things in my life. Very few, if any, of them have been in the past year that he's been treating me like he doesn't want to know me. I remember the last time we hung out before I left for Spain. It was me, nonboyfriend, gayboyfriend, P, G, and Roomie. We went dancing. Myself, nonboyfriend, gayboyfriend and roomie were all sufficiently sauced. We were, admittedly, not at our best. And there were some silly stupid decisions made, but nothing tragic. Everyone went home together and everything was fine. Nevertheless, in the morning, P lectured me about my relationship with nonboyfriend, getting all protective-older-brother-esque on me. I don't think I reacted particularly harshly.

But since then (although he knows I'm not with nonboyfriend any longer), P has seemed distant. And ashamed of me. Acting like he's gracing me, humoring me, with his presence. Like he's just barely tolerating me. I just don't know what I could have done to fall so far away from him. And with all he's forgiven me for, how could this really be the final straw? Or did I really just fall away and get forgotten? I'm not sure which is worse.

And this song has always made me think of P. He would know why.

Thursday, March 12, 2009

Bear's song

I heard this song on MTV the other day (well, about 30 seconds of it... quite a bit for MTV these days!)... and it made me think of Bear. Primarily the chorus... But it's just so true. Our song used to the All-American Rejects' "It Ends Tonight," because it's what I was listening to one of the first times we hung out and he started singing along to all the words and I was totally shocked. He doesn't strike me as the type to listen to emo. But oh, does he.

Anyway, we've been talking and joking for a while that we need a new song, because "It Ends Tonight" is a total downer. I mean, c'mon, the opening lines are "your subtleties, they strangle me, I can't explain myself at all. And all the wants, and all the needs, all I don't want to need at all." Not cheery. Although even typing it, I can hear Bear camping up Tyson's voice in my head.

In any case, a couple nights ago when Bear was over at my house - after an adventure through flooded streets and 20 miles round trip to find a Blockbuster (god I hate living in a small town) - I played him this song. I was bouncing around my room, and he heard the chorus, and just goes "awww!" and gives me a giant, well, bear-hug. Heh.

So here, enjoy.

Yeah, my life would suck without him.

Wednesday, March 11, 2009

HNT: Favorites III

Yes, we're back to the "favorites" theme for HNT. This one has a little bit of a story. (And two photos!)

One of my favorite things to do when I'm home alone - like I am all this week while my roommates and the rest of my university are on spring break - is dance around my apartment. I spice up cooking by turning up the tunes and rocking out. I sing, and dance, well, like no one's watching. To steal a cliche. It's a blast, and makes everything more fun.

Today, I was doing that as I taught myself to make tortilla espanola for lunch - which was messy and overly involved, but turned out OK for a first try. Then for a late dinner, I decided I'd just go easy and grill some chicken. Exciting, I know. I've started my spring break prep (I leave in exactly a week!), which includes digging out clothes that haven't seen the light of day since last fall in Spain. One such thing was my favorite pair of heels. I've had them for years, I've worn out the heel and the lining, but they're still stunningly comfortable and I love them. Unfortunately, the mesh around the toes makes them inappropriate for the bitter cold northeast. Sad. So I busted out the shoes, at first just with the black sweats I was wearing. Then that seemed like a waste. So I slipped on a short dress. Actually, a negligee-type thing I bought with Essin' Em last summer. And then I cranked up the volume, and started bouncing around my apartment in my favorite shoes. I listened to Bear's song (which will be posted tomorrow), and then Flo Rida's rendition of "Right Round" came on. I don't normally listen to rap, but I love the woman's voice on this track, I love the original song, and, well, seeing as how I'll be in Florida next week, I couldn't help but dance.

Sometimes it's fun to get ridiculous. Especially when no one can see you. There's a chance I might have been dancing like I was in a packed club, even though I was in my empty apartment. I'm sure whoever walked by my window thought I was crazy. They were probably right.

Anyway, I came back to my room and realized I didn't have an HNT post scheduled this week. Since I was already in my favorite shoes and a short skirt, the problem seemed to solve itself.

So, the favorites in this HNT? One - the shoes. Two - my legs. For all that I don't believe in shorts, I LOVE the way my legs look, especially from the knee down, in a nice pair of heels. It's one of the few parts of my body I LIKE the curves on. And three - the tattoo. I guess in some ways, this is probably the most revealing part of this week's HNT, since it's a custom tattoo and anyone who knows me knows I have it. But it's my favorite tattoo, I love the story behind it, and I love the placement. For those of you wondering and/or hindered by the grainy photo (sorry, I'm back to my Webcam instead of the digital I had in Spain), it says "Tivoli."


Edward's song.

So yes, I know in the series, Edward writes Bella this beautiful piano lullaby and then that weaves its way through the rest of the books. My Edward, on the other hand, gets associated with a slightly different tone...

Thursday, March 5, 2009

Femme in boy's clothing.

OK, perhaps not as perilous as a wolf in sheep's clothing, but I think there are some similarities.

I identify as a femme. I'm certainly feminine - I love getting dressed up, have a total weakness for high heels, and don't believe in shorts, opting instead for short skirts if the weather allows. My hair is waist-length now (!) when I take the time to straighten it. I live for my liquid eyeliner and mascara. I have pronounced curves that I play up at every chance I get. I generally keep my nails long (and natural), except when the situation or partner requires otherwise - I'm not inconsiderate, here! I can be quite emotional, and I'm prone to stereotypically feminine bouts of insanity and over-analysis.

Even so, I'm not a girly-girl. My voice isn't exceptionally high, I sing as an alto and even, rarely, as a tenor. I love working on cars. For all my high heels and skirts, I think I only own two items of pink clothing. I opt instead for black in almost everything I own. I don't handle spending time in large groups of women particularly well, and I wouldn't last ten seconds in a sorority. I have vastly more male friends than I do female friends... Although those women in my life are certainly worth having and I'm glad they're there. While I do have long hair, I'm generally comfortable throwing it back in a ponytail, unless I'm going out somewhere nice. I LOVE baseball, and get riled up about it. I grew up working on computers and playing video games, and still like to do so when I get the chance.

And, like today, I'm sometimes head-to-toe dressed in boy's clothing. I realized that today, as I was walking to work. Literally, down to my shoes and socks, everything I'm wearing was bought in the men's department. Well, with the exception of the sports bra. Although even that isn't particularly feminine. I often wear boy's jeans - although a friend of mine contends I shouldn't because it hides my curves - and most of my shoes that aren't dressy are boy's shoes. (Admittedly, that's a result of the fact that I can wear children's sizes and they're WAY cheaper to buy.) Most of my t-shirts are boy's, and almost all of my pijamas are boy's tshirts and sweatpants or basketball shorts.

Sometimes I think all this contributes to my tendency to be one of the boys. And such experiences have been really good for training the nueroses out of me. At least the boys I've been spending time with tend to be less dramatic and prone to insanity than other people in my life have been. It's an excellent example in taking things in stride. I don't get as flustered anymore. Sometimes, I even manage to let things not get to me. It's a nice feeling.

I suppose these two things should seem at odds with one another. But I think they work well in my personality. Without getting too conceited, I like that I'm not especially girly. While I know that works for some people and I validate that, I prefer to hang out with the boys. As long as I hang on to my femininity, I think I'll be OK.

And, let's be honest, one of the most fun parts of being "one of the boys" without actually being a boy? Seeing their jaws drop when I show up in my little black dress and heels, made up and looking hot. LOVE that moment.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

HNT: Working hard?

I'm in a stellar mood. Part of that is due to the fact that it's officially Spring Break. Yes, my final college spring break. Aww, how nostalgic. In other news, things are just going particularly smoothly for me at the moment. Things are well with my friends, for the most part. I've seen the band and the Viking, and there is no awkwardness. Excellent. I'm spending my birthday in Florida with Friend and a mutual friend, thanks to their INCREDIBLE generosity. I am so lucky. And I'm rocking out to Kansas at the moment. Brilliant.

So, how does all that benefit YOU?

Well, it means I'm more apt to be a little playful. And as part of my MASSIVE thank you to Osbasso (aka the King of HNT), for re-designing my blog for me, I thought I'd get his suggestion on a theme. He didn't have a direct theme for me, but he did suggest a series. So, while I don't usually do more than one photo in an HNT series, this one time I'll make an exception. And as such, we're going to make it narrative.

I've never particularly worked in an office... but I'm pretty confident that if and when I do, I'll find myself the office slut. I wouldn't be surprised. Might have something to do with the way I seem to invite mischief... I swear it's unintentional...

Luckily, I have a square head on my shoulders and take the time to think things through... I don't do anything rash.

Then again, it might have something to do with my pliability... I can be convinced to do probably too many things. I enjoy the rush...

Yes, I would definitely be the office slut..

Happy HNT!

Sunday, March 1, 2009


Just a quick post today while I'm putting off doing other things I should be.

I was enjoying having the house to myself today while my roommates are out at the university basketball game, meaning I can turn up my music and sing without shame. (To be fair, they haven't complained and actually tend to compliment me when I'm singing... at least on Guitar Hero.)

And while my iTunes was on shuffle, this song came on. And immediately I was back in junior year of high school, in my black '92 Pontiac Grand Am, with the windows down, blasting this and screaming the lyrics. I was 17, freshly dumped, and very angry. Screamo was precisely what I needed.

And, I'm no longer ashamed to admit that I bought Atreyu's album solely for the 80's-like riffs at the chorus and especially at 2:13. With flowers in her hair, gazed upon with dead lover's eyes - she never looked so good...

And yes, I realize this post has little to do with sexuality. Oh well. These things happen.