I have a pretty specific definition of what being “in love” is.  To me, it connotes sex and attraction and mushy feelings and a sense of stability/security, plus knowing each other really well, plus emotional intimacy*.

If the above criteria aren’t all present, I do not consider myself to be in love with a person.  However, I can feel like I’m in love with someone even if a bunch of the puzzle pieces are missing.  That mushy, crushy, infatuated feeling?  It happens when I’m in love with someone and it happens when I’m making out with some hot dude I barely know and our chemistry is really really good and it happens when a cute stranger performs an act of kindness like complimenting me or holding open a door for me.  There are probably a hundred other times when I can feel a little flutter of it, too.  But with actual love there’s substance and depth behind those feelings, and in the other cases, there isn’t.

All of this is just my long-winded way of saying that lately I’ve been feeling as though I’m falling for The Pedant, except I know I’m really not because in many ways I barely even know him.  Still…it’s nice.

And I hate to say it but I think the fact that I barely know him is actually fuelling the fire a bit.  I’m in the stage of my post-Minx life where I simultaneously miss intimacy and domesticity, and violently hate the very idea of it.  The Pedant has somehow managed to become a hot fun stranger and a domestic partner at the same time.

Needless to say, this is all on my mind because The Pedant just left my apartment and I’m still swooning.

Okay, I know I can’t say this to his face, but I’ve been bursting with the urge to say it somewhere so bear with me: I love The Pedant.  Goddammit I love him.  I’m not in love; there’s something missing.  But the sex and mushiness and somewhat of a feeling of security/stability are all there, which to me adds up to romantic love.

I…am probably not going to tell The Pedant I have these feelings.  I worry that he’s not on the same page and he’ll bolt.  Also, the feelings are at their most overwhelmingly strong right after we’ve had sex, which is kind of a dead giveaway that this “love” is probably more of a brain chemistry conspiracy than anything.  Oh, oxytocin, truly you make fools of us all.

But yeah.  Amazing two days.  The Pedant showed up on time(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) and with chocolate, and we went to Mobilicity to get my cell phone service transferred over.  Then he spent a ton of time helping me learn how to use his old Blackberry that he gave me – including reading all twenty or thirty phone numbers in my contact list to me out loud one by one so I could enter them into it (which took absurdly long because I’m not at all used to typing on a teeny keyboard like that, or navigating the Blackberry’s screens).

We snuggled and watched Let the Right One In, and had an extended bout of sexytimes that resulted in me having two crazy powerful orgasms that made my brain turn to jelly so that I was laughing and shaking uncontrollably for ten minutes, and then we slept and I actually did get some decent rest next to him for once.  When we woke up, I immediately set about correcting the previous night’s injustice (I’d come twice, but he hadn’t at all).  I ultimately got him to orgasm by riding him, and it looked like an intense one; his whole body seemed to reverberate with it, and just as he came he seized my face and kissed me so that I caught his gasps and moans in my mouth.  Afterwards he clamped his arms around me and buried his face in my neck, shaking.  I could feel his cock twitching inside me with little aftershocks.

Then breakfast, after which he volunteered to help me assemble an Ikea chest of drawers I’d recently bought to use as a tv stand – but he felt that there wasn’t enough room on my living room floor to set it up, so he started tidying up in order to make some space.  When I write that down it looks presumptuous, like I should feel weird that he was touching my stuff or condescended to because he felt a need to bail me out of my own tidiness issues, but no – I loved it.  Maybe because Minx used to do the exact opposite: make snippy judgmental comments about the mess** (which was half his) and yet do very little to fix it.

The Pedant actually indicated that he’d like to stay a second night – he asked me if I was doing anything tomorrow – but when I told him I’m working at 10am he said okay, he’d leave tonight…and that he’d make sure he left me enough time to have a long hot bath before bed (my leg muscles are borked from all the sex).

But he stayed long enough for us to watch the movie Closer (a favourite of mine that he chose from my collection) while he petted and snuggled me, and we had an awesome discussion about it afterward – he seemed to fundamentally get the movie in a way some people haven’t, so a million brownie points to him!

…And yeah, during this visit I ended up applying my tongue to his cock a whole lot more.  Which I feel slightly conflicted about.  I’ve heard it’s possible to get syphilis in your throat from giving fellatio, but surely this can’t be common…?  Surely the guy’s dick would be wonky-looking or -tasting if he had syphilis…?  I want to research this so I know what my risks are but at the same time I’m kinda scared.  But The Pedant did get tested six months ago and was totally clean, and his junk looks immaculately healthy, so I don’t guess I’m being too incredibly stupid.

But goddamn he tastes good.  And he always gives a long, startled/happy intake of breath when I swipe my tongue over him.  I would have to guess that when he said oral sex does nothing for him, he meant that he’s never come that way.  He damn sure enjoyed the stuff I was doing to him, that’s for sure.

I began experimenting with dirty talk a bit more this time around.  Telling him he’s pretty or that he’s my little fucktoy (sentiments that tend to fall out of my mouth during sex whether I mean them to or not) has never gotten much of a reaction, but telling him that sometimes when he’s not around I crave the taste of his cock made him all breathy and squirmy, as did cheerfully saying (when I was sort of crouched over him, jerking him off) “If this continues much longer, you’re gonna come allllll over my chest.”  I’ve thought for a while that The Pedant is a bit sexually insecure – always afraid his partner isn’t really enjoying herself – so it makes perfect sense to me that he would thrive on statements like these.  I’m telling him I do desire him; I’m telling him I love having intimate contact with his body and its fluids.

I’ve realized that The Pedant goes to a really nonverbal place during sex…during previous encounters I would ask him stuff during sex and get noncommittal answers, and I thought it was just him being shy or something; this time I observed him more carefully and it was obvious that (like I do, sometimes) The Pedant just gets so focused on sensation that he loses the power of speech.  I’d ask him something and see him kind of struggling to surface out of his haze enough to answer me.  It was fucking hot…but it also lets me know not to attempt dirty talk with a call-and-response pattern.  I’ll just throw hot phrases out there and whatever registers, registers.

He seems much more comfortable being naked around me, now.  But sadly when I made discreet inquiries about him maybe wearing panties or stockings for me sometime, he said absolutely not***.

I also made discreet inquiries into perhaps practicing a little orgasm control with him.  Those inquiries were perhaps a bit too discreet, because I don’t think he quite understood what I was asking him; his answer was inconclusive.  Next time we have plans to see each other, I’m going to flat-out ask him if he can refrain from orgasming for a few days beforehand.  I suspect he’ll say no – especially if he’s fucking someone else, which I’m pretty sure he is – but we’ll see. 😀

We kissed goodbye at my door tonight like fifteen times, by the way…and it’s not like I kept grabbing on to him for more while he was struggling to detach and go.  It all felt pretty mutual.  Swoooooon…

Sooooo…yeah.  I think I kinda love this boy.

Which makes me really want a second boy in my life to steal some of the focus and keep me from getting too clingy.  Actually, I’d want that even without these burgeoning feelings because I don’t like having all my sexual eggs in one basket.  If The Pedant were to stop seeing me for whatever reason I’d have nobody for smooches/snuggles/sex, and that simply won’t do.

My libido is weird lately; I pretty much can’t masturbate unless I have a real-life paramour to fantasize about.  And things with that person have to be going well; I need to feel safe in the relationship.  Otherwise, nope, I can’t have sexy wank thoughts about them.  So I feel like I’m in a precarious position, here.  I don’t like having just one person as an outlet for my sex drive, especially since that person is prone to exasperating and confusing me semi-regularly.

And yet, I really don’t feel like going through all the bullshit of trying to meet someone new.  So meh.

*Also, historically when I’ve been in love my feelings were so blindingly strong that I didn’t have eyes for anyone else (at least temporarily) – but now that I’ve finally begun to get my head around polyamory, this may change.

**Oddly, even though The Pedant generally comes off as a snarky bastard, he doesn’t snark about my apartment mess particularly.  He either gracefully ignores it or makes small gestures to alleviate it, like when he filled my kitchen sink and put my dishes in to soak last time he was here.

***In fairness, he thinks lingerie is stupid-looking in general and would never ask me to wear it.  So there’s no hypocrisy here.

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  1. Pingback: Amazing Pedant is amazing – part I | hiding in plain sight

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