An autism treatment and an epiphany

I read a thing recently that articulated a big reason why The Pedant and I fit well together, so I emailed him about it (NB: The Pedant believes he’s on the autism spectrum. I’m not sure if that’s true, but he does have issues figuring out his emotions and understanding other people’s):

So apparently there’s an experimental fix for autism (or at least for certain aspects of it). Something about poking certain parts of the brain with electromagnetic impulses. Apparently it’s been useful for clinical depression, too, which interests me. I also find it fascinating that this treatment made the guy able to “read” people IMMEDIATELY. I thought Aspies were lacking the ability to LEARN how to read people’s emotions, and therefore if you could take away the Asperger’s there would still be a learning curve. But no, with this guy is was like someone flipped a switch.

Here’s the article:

But here’s the bit that really resonated with me (read the above link or don’t; that’s fine; mostly I’m writing to you for this quote):

“…And the hardest thing: it cost me a marriage. When I met my former wife (a decade before the [treatment]), she was seriously depressed. She’d accepted my autistic even keel, and I accepted her often quiet sadness. I never really felt her depression, so we complemented each other…”

“I’d lived with my wife’s chronic depression all those years because I did not share it. After the [autism treatment], I felt the full force of her sadness, and the weight of it dragged me under.”

Yeah. This illustrates precisely why your self-described lack of empathy totally, totally works for me. I don’t want a partner who feels my feelings right along with me. Those people get overwhelmed and leave. It seems like that won’t be an issue with you.

Anyway, I found it interesting to read what it’s like for someone who can’t sense other people’s “vibes” to suddenly be able to. I probably could’ve told him it’s not such a great thing. I’m a walking antenna, myself – I pick up EVERYONE else’s feelings, all the time – and most days it feels like way more of a liability than an asset.

Speaking of which, you too tend to be on an “even keel” like the guy in the article (not sure if common Aspie trait or coincidence…?). And that’s awesome ’cause it gives my antenna a rest.

The “even keel” thing had not precisely occurred to me before. I’ve noted in the past that I find The Pedant comforting because he’s not prone to mood swings or temper tantrums – my dad was, and to this day whenever anyone (but especially a man) yells, it rings alarm bells all through my body. So it’s nice to have a partner who never makes me fear violence. But now I realize that’s not the only reason I like his level personality. I also like it because I absorb everyone’s emotions like a sponge, and he has way fewer of them! Mostly around me he’s just neutral or content or aroused. There’s not a lot of anger or sadness or grouchiness ever.

I wrote that email in the wee hours of the morning. It’s evening now and The Pedant just replied:

Good evening,

I’ve read that article. As much as the author wanted to make it read as a rough ride which was worth it in the end, it seems to me like a nightmare to suddenly be vulnerable to everyone else’s emotions.

If that’s your default, then I can understand why you’re more comfortable with me around.

I replied:

It didn’t read to me as “worth it in the end” at all. I thought the author was going more for “huh. So THAT happened…”

Your presence is a warm fluffy blanket for my brain, yes.

Or a tinfoil hat.:)

I’m glad The Pedant seems to be finally getting that his empathy malfunction is a feature for me, not a bug. I mean, it would be a bug if he didn’t understand my feelings and therefore dismissed them, but so far he seems to take my stated feelings and mental states seriously, so it’s fine. Optimal, even.

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What it’s like to be poor and anxious

I do not currently have enough work in the month of June to justify buying a bus pass. Sometimes, if the discrepancy isn’t too big, I’ll buy one anyway just to avoid the constant stress of worrying about money every single time someone asks me to come out somewhere. But this time I’d be essentially wasting $100 or so if I did that, so individual fares it is.

And this is the point where I start doing endless calculations and bargaining in my head to try to save even more money. See, psychologically speaking, if I have a bus pass then every time I go places I’m getting my money’s worth out of the pass. Without a pass, I’m spending money every time.


Some of my upcoming gigs, I could walk home from (albeit it would take a couple of hours). I’d save on bus money doing that, but the extra exercise would make me extra hungry so I’d end up eating enough to negate that savings. But, exercise is good for fitness, depression, and weight loss anyway so maybe I should walk. Buttttttt, it’s summer and I sunburn like a mofo so walking home will also require me to be slathered from head to toe in expensive sunscreen, so between that and the extra food consumption, walking would put me way more in the hole than just spending a couple of bucks on bus fare. Oh, not to mention the wear and tear on my shoes.

If you’ve never had this kind of conversation with yourself, congratulations! You’ve either never been poor or you don’t have anxiety disorders. Probably both. I’m genuinely happy for you. But I hope this post has given you some insight into how other people live.


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Obligatory Pedant visit synopsis (part 4)

Pretty much as soon as The Pedant woke up, he was like “Okay. So what else did I say we were going to tackle around the house today?” It may not be obvious just from reading those words on a screen but the vibe he gave off (it seemed to me, anyway) was that he was so grateful for the sex that he was super keen to show his appreciation by doing a bunch more practical stuff for me. Which sounds like we might just be in an endless, self-feeding cycle of him being good to me because sex and me happily lavishing sexual attention on him because he’s so good to me. And since I love the sex and I’m pretty sure he enjoys helping people get their lives in order, EVERYONE WINS.

Srsly, this relationship has really made me realize how much compatible love languages can keep things running smoothly. We seem to each express love exactly the way the other needs to hear it, and because it’s our natural form of expression, it’s easy. We’re just being ourselves and the other person gets all wibbly over it. Awesome.

So, The Pedant helped me re-shave my head and de-clutter my apartment a bit, and I made us dinner, and then I had to start getting ready because I’d agreed to go dancing with a friend that night.

The Pedant actually had the next day off, too, but had said that he needed to spend it getting stuff done at home. I invited him to come clubbing with me and my friend for an hour or two before he went home. TBH my main reason for asking was that my friend had asked me to meet him at the club and it twigged my anxiety pretty badly to do that.

Initially The Pedant agreed to come out with me, but then he said he was still “partied out” from the night before so he wouldn’t, after all. Fair enough. I’d just have to deal with the nightclub thing on my own.

We were out of lint rollers and the outfit I wanted to wear (the only one I could wear, because reasons) was covered in cat hair. The Pedant said he would pick up some more lint rollers on the way home and if I came with him, he’d de-fur me before I went and met my friend. Oddly, the drug store he proposed we go to was in the direction of downtown, where I was going – not in the actual direction of his house. It was 10pm on a Saturday so a lot of drug stores would be closed, but surely there was an all-night one somewhere in his direction. But I think he was just wanting to buy more time with me.:)

After the drug store we popped into a convenience store so The Pedant could get a slushy drink. By this point I’d realized that I hadn’t eaten nearly enough dinner to sustain me for a night of dancing, and I saw that the store had my favourite brand of protein bar, so I grabbed one of those and a small bottle of water to wash it down. When we got up to the cash register, The Pedant plucked these items out of my hands and paid for them along with his drink. I hadn’t expected that because a) he’d told me he would be curtailing his spending and b) we weren’t technically on an outing together – just winding things up before I left to do something else – so this seemed technically out of his jurisdiction.

Then we found a well-lit area and lint-brushed ourselves and each other, and The Pedant asked me which route I’d be taking to the club – meaning, where would we be parting company so I could go south and he could continue west to his home? Would it be at this major intersection or the next one? The club was between the two.

I said I preferred to take the southbound bus at the next intersection because that’s the way I’ve always gone to this club and the thought of arriving alone was making me anxious in the first place so I really didn’t want to add any unpredictable variables.

“Well, I can accompany you! All you had to do was ask.”


“I’m coming with you,” The Pedant said, sounding kind of dutiful and resigned.

“Ehhhh your tone doesn’t sound exactly thrilled, so just…don’t.”

“No, seriously. I’ll come with you and drop you off. Why didn’t you tell me this was making you anxious?”

A few different answers bumped around in my head. “Because my brain shit isn’t your responsibility,” I said, finally.

“Fair enough,” The Pedant said, “but I mean – I’ll still come with you. You only had to ask.”

“Okay,” I said cautiously. “I accept your offer of accompaniment.” But seriously, I’m feeling so conflicted. On one hand, The Pedant does seem to thrive on helping the people he loves. On the other hand, he’s flat-out disparaged people who have anxiety and said he can’t stand to be around them when it flares up. He’s flat-out said that he is not a good bet for giving emotional support in times of crisis. So what the fuck am I supposed to think, here? How could I possibly not be under the impression that if I lean on The Pedant too much, he’ll inevitably become disgusted by my weakness and bail?

I mean I know that what The Pedant says often doesn’t match up with his actions, but my overwhelming past experience with guys is that they love to white knight me in the beginning, but once it’s clear that I can’t be rescued – that their gestures help me in the moment but don’t fix me forever – they get bored or annoyed or exhausted and they leave. Why should The Pedant be any different?

But I let him accompany me to the door of the club, and I gave him a whole lot of extended goodbye kisses before we parted company. I didn’t thank him, since, again, apparently he feels like this sort of gesture is just par for the course and not anything that deserves gratefulness. Or something. But I hope he’s not offended by me basically radiating love at him when he does shit for me because that’s what ends up happening and it’s not something I can control.

I’m still not going to let myself fully lean on him for support, though. No matter how much he might tell me I’m welcome to. I’ll reveal some of my anxiety issues to him, I’ll let him help me with select crises that I know he’d handle efficiently, but I won’t tell him every time things are going badly with me, or let him know the full extent. I’m not stupid.



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Obligatory Pedant visit synopsis (part 3)

I’d been wanting all day to fuck The Pedant again, but I sensed that he wouldn’t have been up for it first thing when we awoke and then he got all businesslike and wanted to focus on helping me with chores.

Once he’d put the finishing touches on that dresser, The Pedant flopped back on the couch for a bit of a rest. I promptly straddled him. We were both still naked. I assumed that he would gently rebuff me any minute – I’d nuzzled and kissed him a few times during the dresser set-up process, too, and gotten no response at all so I figured he was either in a nonsexual headspace or still spent from the previous night, or both. And indeed, when I planted a kiss on the side of his abdomen he made a chagrined-sounding “hmm” that I was certain would preface him saying “I really don’t think I’m up for anything right now.” But I took a chance and kissed one of his nipples anyway…and he let out a tiny gasp with an edge of moan to it that went straight to my clit.

And then, it was the weirdest thing…I just clicked over, instantly, into a sort of trance state. Time slowed down and my mind became perfectly still and clear.* And I decided that I was going to devote myself to pleasuring The Pedant’s body, slowly and in exquisite detail, for a long, long time. This sweet man who had put himself in my service all day; this hot man with the most sensitive touch receptors I’d ever had the pleasure to stimulate. My focus narrowed to a laser point. His body seemed to unfurl luxuriantly all around me, a warm living playground spreading as far as the eye could see. Nothing else existed.


I dipped down and kissed The Pedant’s nipple again, making him gasp; I brushed my lips whisper-light over the warm, satiny surface, back and forth, back and forth; I kissed my way around the perimeter; I lapped lightly at the very, very tip with my tongue, then swirled my tongue in a delicate spiral, experimenting with inhaling and exhaling through my mouth as I did so. My inhales sent a rush of cooling air across the wetness from my tongue, making his chest hitch and his hips buck ever so slightly. He let out a whimpering noise; his hardening cock reached out and tapped me in the stomach. (My exhales, for the record, did not have such a strong effect, although The Pedant was vocalizing pretty much from the moment I began my process of body worship – his pitch and fervor rose and fell but his stream of sounds was constant.)

It seemed as though The Pedant had fallen under a sort of trance, too. He’s taken to whispering “yes” over and over when I do something in bed that he likes, lately, or to making suggestions for what to do next, but during this particular encounter he didn’t speak a single word – which is exactly what I’d been craving. Either I’d aroused him to the point of incoherence really fast or we had a full-on telepathy moment where I beamed into his head that I would be running this fuck without needing or wanting any input from him whatsoever.

I kissed my way across The Pedant’s chest to play with his other nipple. One of my hands rested on the side of his ribcage, and sometimes when he made a particularly intense pleasure-sound, that hand gripped his body reflexively – which made him vocalize even louder. When he gets in the zone, he’ll respond pleasurably to any hint of roughness – a push, a grab. But outright pain will apparently wreck his buzz. I have to straddle the line carefully.

And then I made my way up his body to run my mouth over his neck. His chest is covered in a dense mat of fur, but he uses conditioner or something; it’s always so nice and soft. The fur gives way at his collarbone and the thick column of his neck is smooth and hair-free**. I thoroughly explored the whole area with my lips and tongue, poring over his skin inch by inch. Just above his collarbone there’s a spot that, when licked, makes him moan. I found other sweet spots along the sides of his neck. When I wanted access to the front of his neck and, later, the other side, I grasped his chin and moved his head where I needed it. He pliantly let me do this.

Finally I made my way up to his face. The Pedant has a huge head; quite leonine, really, despite him having referred to himself as a werewolf. He has lovely strong cheekbones. I mouthed my way along one of them and planted a kiss on the cool, fine, delicate skin next to his eye. Then I kissed his mouth, which was closed and relaxed and remained so. I was thoroughly enjoying him being such a total object; when he didn’t kiss me back, I reined myself in a bit and made a chain of tiny, barely-there kisses across his upper lip and then his lower lip as he continued steadily whimpering and his cock pulsed against my leg. I kissed the tiny blank spot by the corner of his mouth where his beard doesn’t quite start yet. I ran the tip of my tongue lightly across his upper lip as though delicately licking an envelope – but slowly – so very slowly – his lips seeming to unspool before me like miles and miles of silk ribbon.

And then, for contrast, I seized his jaw in my hand – digging my fingers into his cheeks just enough to prompt his mouth to open – and gave him a passionate full-on kiss with tongue in it. He moaned harder and put his arms up by his head like he does when he wishes he were tied up.

I lowered my face to his ear and whispered, “I’m going to take you into the bedroom and use you however I want.”

I stood up from the couch. The Pedant, oddly, did not begin to stand, so I held out my hand to help him up and he got the hint then. I nudged him ahead of me down the hallway. His walk was kind of slow and spacey, as if he were drugged. Both cats were in the bedroom and The Pedant is not a person who tolerates animal spectators during sex, so I picked up Dickface the Kitten and tossed her out, expecting that The Pedant would automatically do likewise with Bastardcat. But he just stood by the bed, swaying slightly, arms at his sides.

Tangent: I’ve heard people use the word subspace to describe two different things: 1) the rush of brain chemicals that comes from pain play (which can make a person act kinda drunk) and 2) a sort of hypnosis-like state some subs slip into with the right person or under the right circumstances (no pain involved, necessarily) where they just…kinda lose all will of their own and automatically do what they’re told. This is not the first time I’ve suspected The Pedant was in subspace of one kind or another, but it’s perhaps the most intense and obvious example of it.

Once I’d ousted both cats from the bedroom and shut the door, I gently guided The Pedant to lie on the bed, and I straddled him again. More reverent tasting of each of his nipples in turn. More kissing of his neck, his jawline, his mouth. I was suddenly consumed with such gratefulness – for his help around the house, for his wonderful body in my bed, for the way he offered himself up to me – that I cupped his face in my hands, pressed my lips to his forehead, and just stayed like that for like thirty seconds.

And then I buckled the restraints onto his wrists and ankles and secured them to the corners of the bed. He was limp as a rag doll the entire time (but he was still hard, still making a constant stream of little sounds). If our positions were reversed I don’t think I could be that passive if I tried; I’d be constantly trying to predict where he was trying to position me, and endeavoring to beat him to it. But The Pedant was just…entirely relaxed and allowing me free rein without questioning or predicting what I was doing. He was letting me lead.

Once I’d finally just about had my fill of lavishing attention on The Pedant’s face and body with my mouth, I poured a generous amount of lube onto his cock and climbed aboard. And he was just so totally abandoned as I began to thrust. Squirming and howling and tossing his head back and forth. Opening his eyes, only for them to immediately roll back into his head. When he gets like that it’s fun to play with it by varying the rhythm of thrusts, so I did that – randomly raising myself up until only the tip of his cock was still inside me, holding still until he made a heartbroken little sound in the back of his throat, slowwwwwwly sliding back down again just to watch his face melt in ecstasy at being back inside me, throwing in a few rapid-fire thrusts to shake things up, etc.

And then I decided to see if I could trigger a big finish more-or-less on command. I fucked him with a solid, predictable rhythm until his sounds began to get even more of an edge of desperation, then pulled back for a long moment so that he was in kind of a breathless free-float…then slammed down again in one long, smooth motion and yessss he totally began to come. I put my palm on his chest and leaned my weight on it to enhance his feeling of being restrained. I thrust steadily through his initial full-body shudder. A moment later, his sounds became slightly panicked and he began feebly trying to shake his head no – I thrust through that, too. Finally I brushed the thumb of my free hand across one of his nipples, and he shuddered hard a second time and then his body language telegraphed that he was definitely not having fun anymore and so I did stop. And then some switch in my brain flipped and filled my head with endorphins and oxytocin and shit – a braingasm that made my back muscles ripple and my shoulderblades reflexively slam together, just once, and then I collapsed onto The Pedant and sobbed with my face buried in the crook of his neck.

think The Pedant must know that these wee crying spells after or during sex are from the intensity of my happy, loving feelings. At any rate he never gets alarmed by them or asks me what’s going on.

A braingasm is nice, but it lacks a certain something that only an actual orgasm can provide, so once I’d recovered myself somewhat I undid The Pedant’s restraints, flopped down next to him, and got out my Hitachi and dildo. “Hey,” I said, nudging him, “I could use an extra pair of hands here.” I think he may have twitched and/or made a tiny noise as if trying to struggle to the surface of his blackout, but yeah…he was pretty gone. Even when I switched on the Hitachi and touched it to his nipple he barely moved, and normally something like that would make him whine, flinch, and slap my hand away. I decided that he was too out of it to assist me and it wasn’t his fault. I got myself off and then cuddled up to The Pedant and fell fast asleep, too.



*I wanted to link that one Futurama scene – the one where Fry drinks his hundredth cup of coffee and reaches a similar state – but I can’t find it, dammit!

**On the front and sides, anyway. If he didn’t shave the back of his neck I think he basically wouldn’t even have a discernible hairline.



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Obligatory Pedant visit synopsis (part 2)

I was out of both cat food and litter, so when we got up the next day that was the first order of business. The plan was to go get cat supplies, bring them home, then go out for groceries, since I was almost out of people-food, too. The days of The Pedant taking me out to eat all the time have come to a close, at least for now, as he’s saving up first and last to move in with a friend in September and also saving up to chip in on a big birthday gift for his mom. I miss all the sushi, but I fully understand that my frequent restaurant meals with The Pedant were a treat, not a right. I enjoyed living the high life while it lasted but I’m more than happy to take over feeding him.

Spring had been taking its sweet time showing up, but it was hitting full force that day. I don’t deal well with the heat at all. I think I don’t sweat as much as other people, or something, I don’t know. But when we got back home with the cat food and litter my face was beet red, my heart was pounding, and I felt all weak and faint. I had to chug some water and collapse onto the couch for a while before I felt ready to leave again.

I like grocery shopping with The Pedant; I can stockpile more stuff with him carrying an additional shopping basket and helping to mule everything home.

Once I’d gathered up all the items I needed, he picked a checkout line for us to wait in. After a few minutes I realized it was the express lane and I definitely had too many items. The Pedant said something about each basket having fewer than sixteen items so it would be fine if I put “my” basket’s contents on the belt and he put “his” on.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works,” I said.

“It does if I pay for these items separately,” The Pedant replied. Such a sweet boy. He claims to dislike being thanked so I just smiled at him and agreed that yes, that would get us around the item limit just fine.

When we got home for the second time, I immediately peeled off my clothes and collapsed on the couch again.  Eventually I summoned the strength to put the groceries away. Then I asked The Pedant to help me put the finishing touches on an Ikea dresser I’d just assembled; I’d been having a hard time screwing in the drawer pulls. “I could do it myself but it would require a level of forearm strength that’s not comfortable for me,” I told him.

The Pedant agreed to help, and also made a whole other list of household things he intended for us to accomplish. But I wanted him to do the dresser thing first, so after a quick lunch of grocery store maki rolls, he started with that.

It took way longer than I thought it would. The holes in the wooden drawer pulls had been drilled a bit wonky and not nearly deep enough (ha! I thought so! I actually put together the exact same dresser a year or two ago and was able to screw on the pulls just fine). The Pedant occasionally asked me to get up and fetch things for him as he worked, or to hold one of the dresser pieces still while he used the screwdriver, or what-have-you.

By then we’d been home long enough that my internal temperature had regulated itself, but I was still having such a low-energy day that it was hard to get up and do anything, and I said so. Not as a complaint that The Pedant was making me do stuff. More as an apologetic observation. And it occurs to me now that The Pedant was really awesome about this. He didn’t question me or tell me I was exaggerating or making excuses. He just kept on doing the bulk of the work on that dresser, without any apparent resentment.

The Pedant, by the way, is a regular powerhouse of energy to a point where he often prefers standing to sitting (a concept that’s completely foreign to me). He even has a standing desk at home. So I feel pretty reassured that the things he does to help me around the house – things that would leave me totally drained if I did them – are not even a big deal to him. We’re well-matched that way.


The Pedant had also undressed once we got home, by the way, and pretty much the entire time that he sat on the couch wrestling with those dresser drawers I just kept surreptitiously staring at him and thinking “Holy shit The Pedant is naked in my house and helping me do chores. Naked.”

We’ve been seeing each other for years now but somehow his novelty hasn’t worn off yet.😛

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Obligatory Pedant visit synopsis (part 1)

Soooo the recent Pedant visit was wonderful.

I was a little worried about him having residual anger at me because of that fight, but I took a chance anyway and yanked him in for a kiss as soon as I opened the door. He gave the little trademark gasp he always does when I’m rough with him, and kissed me back with enthusiasm.

He had said that he would want to take a shower as soon as he arrived (he came over straight from work) but once he got naked he just kinda stood there in my front hallway, uncertainly.

“It’s nice to see you,” he said.

“You too,” I replied. “And in my favourite outfit, too.” And then I got up from the couch, where I’d been watching him undress, and walked over and started caressing and kissing him. His responses escalated quickly and he smelled and tasted fine to me so I murmured “Sex first. Shower later” and nudged him into the bedroom.

I had him go down on me, and cautiously told him he could try licking my clit directly (vs through the hood) if he was gentle. In the past I’ve been way too sensitive for that, but my body seems to be changing lately. His licking felt pretty good – didn’t hurt, didn’t make me wanna curl into a ball and die. Sometimes it even got pretty intense (in a good way). But eventually I asked him to stop.

“Do you think you could ever come from that, with practice?” he asked.

“I think so. Maybe,” I said. In retrospect I wish I’d added “…if you practice, too, and build your stamina” because I need a level of consistency that I do not think he can provide at the moment. I told him that I was surprised at how good the direct stimulation felt, because once upon a time I’d been way too sensitive for that. He said maybe it works with him because I trust him more than I trusted other people. His hubris there was amusing (it seems like a weird connection to make, plus I don’t trust him more than I trusted other partners – not sexually. He has a track record of ignoring instructions, and he’s getting better but I’m still cautious with him). I simply said “I don’t think that’s it. I mean even I couldn’t touch the tip of my clit until recently. My actual body seems to be changing.”

His mouth had gotten me a good part of the way to orgasm and I wanted to continue in that direction. I also wanted to get fucked. So I had The Pedant make a missionary position Hitachi sandwich with me. And it felt amazing, but I couldn’t quite let go enough to come.

And then – speaking of me not quite trusting him sexually – The Pedant was all “I want you to come first. You can use that toy on me, if you want…the couples’ toy…” he meant my Realdoe double dildo. Which I’ve never said gets me off. I think he was somehow assuming that the g-spot stimulation of it wiggling inside me during pegging would be enough to do the job. He would be basing this on absolutely nothing about me, though. I’ve told him many times that penetration alone doesn’t get me there. I’ve even told him once that the Realdoe isn’t quite shaped right to stimulate my clit.

But the novelty of him agreeing to be pegged with a slightly bigger toy than before – and one that looks like an actual penis – was too good to pass up. And maybe I could lie back and incorporate my Hitachi on my clit as he rode me, or something…I’d have to work out the logistics.

I inserted “my” end and started lubing “his” end. “You can take me from behind if you want,” The Pedant said, all breathy and turned on, and that was a novelty, too. I’d kind of assumed that position would seem too…impersonal or demeaning or something, to him. There’s no way in the world I could come from doggie style pegging with the Realdoe, but I wanted to peg him that way, anyway.

The Pedant has absurdly long legs, and of course I’m working with a dick that has no nerve endings, so finding the right angle to get inside him was…a bit of a trial. We ended up with him ass-up right next to the edge of the bed and me standing on the floor in an extra-wide stance. I’m shocked at how easy it was to thrust in and out of him; usually I can’t use the Realdoe (or any similar toy) on a guy unless my legs are together for stability; otherwise the suction of his ass yanks it out of me. And The Pedant is tight. Yet somehow I managed to fuck him pretty soundly with my legs apart. Either The Pedant was really relaxed or my vaginismus (or whatever it is) is getting worse, or both.

The Pedant moaned the entire time I fucked him, even if I wasn’t actively touching his cock or nipples. Perhaps facing away from me allowed him to feel less inhibited in his reactions. I’m so curious to know what it felt like for him…he used to tell me ass play did nothing for him, then said he liked a finger inside him but just pressing on the upper wall without moving; and now here he was making pleasure-sounds as I held his hips and slowly but firmly slid my cock in and out of him.

After a little while the bulb-end of the toy – the part in my vag – started to feel kind of dry and ouchy, and I knew that lubing it would make it impossible to keep ass-fucking The Pedant, so I carefully pulled it out of me while leaving the other end inserted in his ass. Then I used the bulb as a handle of sorts for a while, which was nice as it allowed me to kneel behind him, reach through his legs, and stroke his cock at the same time. I was finding it really hard to give him a reach-around while I pegged him.

Finally, though, I decided I wanted to get fucked some more. I gently pulled the Realdoe out of The Pedant, pushed him over onto his back, and began to ride while thumbing his nipples. “Did you come during any of that?” The Pedant asked.

“No,” I said, carefully stifling my amazement that he would even ask that (my orgasms! Are not! Subtle!).

“If you want to come first, you’d probably better not keep going with this for much longer.”

I smiled, nodded, dismounted, and handed him my favourite dildo. He fucked me with that while I Hitachi’d myself to a resoundingly awesome orgasm.

“Did you get what you needed?” The Pedant murmured.

“…Yeah…” I said, once I could form words. “And also kind of an urge to kill you.” I struggled upright and swung my leg over The Pedant.

“You resent me giving you an orgasm?” The Pedant asked.

My surge of post-orgasm violence rampaged through me madly, made my body shake. I put my fist against The Pedant’s chest and leaned on it, gritting my teeth, waiting for the furor to pass. “No,” I said. “I want to use you up so there’s nothing left. But if I did that I couldn’t fuck you anymore, so…”

The Pedant chuckled softly. He surely saw that I was literally vibrating with the urge to punch or choke him, yet he wasn’t afraid of me. He’s the first non-masochist I’ve ever fucked who’s seen this side of me and didn’t fear it. I can’t tell you what a relief that is.

I put his cock inside me and rode. The Pedant has indicated to me before that he gets off exceptionally hard when stimulated right through to the end, although he reflexively stops me before that point usually. He’s also told me that he likes being tied down during sex because it forces him to endure the full intensity of what’s happening without flinching away as he would normally do. And so I decided it was probably safe to experiment with ignoring his “no” just a little bit. When he began to come I thrust slow and steady; when he predictably started whimpering a bit and put his hands on my hips to still them, I said “No. We finish when I say we’re finished.” And I kept thrusting until suddenly he shuddered again and his face kind of convulsed, briefly, in a soundless sob. “now we’re done,” I said, collapsing on top of him and kissing him.

After a brief nap we went out to a nightclub event that The Pedant was interested in. I’ve been to this thing before a couple of times and I’ve always hated it, but it was just up the street from my house and I like that The Pedant has been inviting me out to places where his friends hang out. For a long time he never did that and I kinda felt like a dirty little secret.

Against all odds, that night the music selection suited my tastes much better than before and I actually danced a lot. So that was great. Especially since The Pedant is a huge social butterfly and also always forgets to introduce me to people, so staying glued to his side would just have been awkward – I’d’ve been just silently watching him talk to other people all night.

I did come up next to him from time to time, and vice versa. I also saw some people I knew, and made chit-chat with them. I often worry about smothering The Pedant with my social anxiety but that night I feel I held my own just fine.

However, I did run out of energy for dealing with people after an hour or two. I told The Pedant that I’d probably want to go home soon. I added “Just text me when you’re done” (he’d forgotten his copy of my keys). He seemed startled; perhaps he expected that I’d make him leave when I did. Meh, maybe normal etiquette dictates that we arrived as a unit and therefore should leave as one, but he’s more into socializing than I am and I’m always wired for a while after clubbing and want some peace and quiet to decompress, so it works out.

When I did leave, he said he’d be another hour or so. I thought “Yeah, we’ll see” because he’s terrible for losing track of time. And sure enough, he actually texted me three hours later to tell me he was on his way back, which is even worse than I expected.

I wish he’d remembered his keys to my place. I wasn’t angry that he stayed out, but I was kinda pissed that I was asleep when he texted. I’d spent about two hours having a bath and puttering around watching Netflix, and it was awesome, but then I unexpectedly got sleepy. I’m plagued by ridiculous insomnia and when I manage to get to sleep I don’t like to be woken up.

In response to The Pedant’s “I’m walking back now” text, I was like “You do know you’ve been gone three hours, not one?” He said he’d lost track of time and blah blah blah. I said “Just know that if I’d slept through your text(s), that’s on you. I was vigilant for that hour and then some, but then said fuck it.” He said he understood. So that removes a lot of pressure from me; that night and in previous similar situations I felt obligated to check my phone constantly so as not to irritate him by keeping him waiting whenever he finally showed up. Now maybe I won’t feel I have to do that.

Amazingly, I managed to fall back asleep fairly quickly – this time with The Pedant’s body all entwined with mine. Prawr.:)

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I think I’ll keep him.

The Pedant just called me for a chat while on his way to a friend’s place. After a bit of conversation, he said he should get going so as to call said friend and tell him he was almost there. I said that I, too, should get going because I have a follow-up appointment with that dietician tomorrow. And I mentioned I was nervous about it.

“You know she’s going to be talking about what you put in your mouth, not trying to put things in your mouth, right?”

“Yeah, obviously. But for the past three weeks I’ve been having to write down everything I eat, and I’ve been eating pretty much the same things every day, and I feel like she’s probably going to tell me to be more varied with it. You’re supposed to eat a wide range of things as part of a healthy diet. But that is…not a thing I can do. I just straight-up don’t have the energy for that kind of constant decision-making. I need to be able to grocery shop and cook on autopilot because having to constantly decide what to eat would drain my resources too much. And I’m afraid she’s gonna give me a hard time about that.”

“You know you’ve got an actual medical issue that you can’t help, right?”

“You know that for my entire life when I’ve told people I can’t do something because anxiety, they’ve said ‘well can you like…try harder?’, right?”

The Pedant immediately and decisively said, “Tell her that your diet is limited by two factors. The first is that there’s a whole range of foods that make you sick. The second is that you don’t have a lot of money. You could even tell her that you can’t afford to eat anything different until your next paycheque comes in.”

“Actually, yeah. The money thing is also a big factor here.”

“Exactly. So keep those two reasons uppermost in your mind. Probably you won’t even have to get into it with her about the anxiety.”

“Yes, okay. Good.”

“If she doesn’t end up bringing up the variety issue, though, you know I’ll be laughing.”

“Yeah. She might not bring it up. It’s the nature of my anxiety that I want to feel prepared for everything all the time, so I think about every possible outcome of everything ever. Which bogs down my brain’s CPU, which leaves me with no energy to make decisions about what to eat…”

“Bus rides must be hell for you,” The Pedant said.

Everything’s hell for me,” I said, surprised that he hadn’t already figured that out.

The Pedant said that he’d specified bus rides because other countries have had terrorist attacks on public transit, kind of out of the blue. He talked about some Syrian gas bomb or something. He said sometimes when he’s on a bus it occurs to him that maybe something like that could happen all of a sudden.

“Maybe I think about that sort of stuff in a very general way,” I said. “It’s probably why I have a hard time leaving the house sometimes. But mostly I worry about specific, interpersonal things that could happen to me.”

“Well, think of it this way: which is worse, interpersonal awkwardness or being dosed with [name-I-didn’t-catch] gas?”


“Bear in mind, the gas is immediately fatal.”

“Oh,” I said, instantly. “The interpersonal stuff is worse, then. Like, obviously.”

At the other end of the line The Pedant made a tiny glottal sound, like he was about to say something but then got stymied for words and nothing came out. Just his throat opening and closing. He clearly didn’t expect this answer.

I said, “Well, if I die instantly I’m just gone. With the interpersonal stuff I have to live through it and then know that the other person will remember whatever weird thing I did forever.”

“If you die instantly you’ll leave behind two cats who don’t know how to use a can opener. And anyway, people have the memory span of goldfish or worse. They don’t remember weirdness for as long as you think they do.”


“Trust me.”

And then he really did have to go.

I made sure not to thank him for his guidance, since he has explicitly told me he doesn’t want me to. But I am thankful. The Pedant just has such a matter-of-fact way of breaking things down so they don’t sound scary anymore, and he gives me a combo of practical tips for dealing with people and reminders that people aren’t usually as malicious or powerful as AssholeBrain would have me believe.

And I’ve been thinking about his insistence that thank-yous are “a nuisance.” That was a foreign concept to me at first but then I remembered how much it irks me when I tell him he’s hot or beautiful or fuckable and he’s like “thanks, that’s very kind of you.” No it’s not! Telling him mushy things is how I express love. I’m not actively trying to be nice to him, I’m just doing what I do. And it strikes me that this may be exactly what it is with him and his anti-anxiety measures. He expresses love through helping people – this much is obvious to me. So maybe it feels jarring and misplaced to him that I should essentially thank him for telling me he loves me.

The more I think about this, the more perfect it is. In the past I’ve felt just sickeningly grateful to partners for helping me through anxiety issues. I felt beholden to them, and therefore unequal to them (and I think they may have liked that…). The Pedant, meanwhile, seems to think that talking me down from ledges is just the obvious thing you do when a partner is freaking out. Obvious and simple and no big deal. Just standard relationship maintenance, maybe. And maybe he’s right.

I’m going to experiment a bit with the idea that I deserve support from the people I love.

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