Oh, I forgot to tell you: while The Pedant and I were post-coitally snuggling, I mentioned that he’d gotten a little dangerously close to me the night before (meaning the way he let the head of his penis get so close to my vag). I can’t for the life of me remember what he said – I’m vaguely remembering a sheepish little laugh and some rationalizations. I think he must have tied it in with my previous conversation with him re: going bareback because I replied “have you given that any more thought?”
The Pedant said “I’ve been trying to book an appointment with my doctor but I can never get through. They really need to hire more reception staff.” He was referring to the fact that I said I’d only ditch condoms with him if he’d been tested for STDs and come out clean. So he’s considering it! Laying the groundwork, as it were. Probably he’s been obsessing on my offer lately, and knowing that I’d be willing to take this step with him is what made him rub up against me like that the night before. Teasing himself a little bit. Getting a taste of things to come. It’s a little odd that it took this long for him to get to that stage – this is not the first time we’ve gotten together since I put barebacking on the table, and he comported himself perfectly normally before. I thought he’d forgotten all about my idea, actually. But maybe he just took a while to decide he wanted to do it.
Anyway, I made us some eggs and we ate together on the couch. The Pedant was like “So what’s this show I’m supposed to watch?”* And I gave him a brief synopsis of Spaced and intended to throw on the first disc, but we got distracted talking. Not The Pedant speechifying about incomprehensible things and me pretending to listen, but an actual conversation. I love these moments when we actually connect.
After we’d finished eating, I opened my laptop and showed The Pedant some drawings artists had made of me a night or two before, then some photos from a costumed drawing class I did a few weeks back. For the costumed thing I’d posed with another model who I figured was exactly his type, and sure enough he started commenting on her hotness. Oddly, I didn’t especially mind – perhaps because I think she’s hot, too. She’s also extremely expressive and I don’t mind telling you that when we were posing together and role-playing as enemies, the scared-face she’d occasionally put on when I was “attacking” her gave me…thoughts. As did pulling her hair during a “cat fight.” I told The Pedant all of this and he remarked that we should share this girl sometime – I could hold her down while he went down on her, and when she started to orgasm I could kiss her to drown out her screams. This gave me a huge and unexpected surge of arousal. I slammed the laptop shut with the intention of straddling The Pedant for violent makeouts, but then remembered that we’d just recently had sex and he probably wouldn’t be able to produce the kind of fervour I wanted. So I just set the laptop aside and we kept talking, instead.
The Pedant explained to me that he likes overpowering his partners – only those who like being dominated, of course, not anyone who’d be triggered or traumatized by it. He told me about a time when he’d been going down on a woman and she began to find the sensations too intense and scrambled up the mattress to escape…and he grasped her ankle and slowwwwwly dragged her back toward him again. The way he told it was really, really hot. We got into a discussion of whether I’m bi or not: he insisted I must be, from the way I talk about certain women; I opined that my distaste for vulvas is a pretty big indication that I’m not bi (or at least not very bi), and posited that maybe I just have a hard time distinguishing between “I find her attractive” vs. “I’m attracted to her.” The Pedant said he doesn’t see a difference; apparently when he thinks a woman is attractive it always means he wants to do things to her. I said “Okay, well for me it doesn’t, so that kinda confirms my theory that I’m not into chicks – or at least chicks with vulvas.” The Pedant said “But vulvas are awesome!” I said “Well, I think cocks are awesome.” The Pedant was like “Yeeeah, I don’t see it” and I gave him a pointed look (a look meaning: if a person isn’t into a certain kind of genitalia, chances are it means something about their orientation. The Pedant doesn’t like cock because he’s straight. Ergo I don’t like vulva because…?) and The Pedant was like “…Ah.”
Then we somehow got onto the topic of aggressive sex again and The Pedant said that he really likes it when a woman is rough/passionate/etc. – he can’t understand chicks who “starfish” during sex (kind of ironic, coming from someone who’s usually tied spread-eagled to my bed while we’re doin’ it and who sometimes won’t even kiss me back). In his mind I guess desire is expressed by pretty much attacking the other person – which is a validating thing to hear from him since that’s how I express desire. I was never entirely sure whether he liked my bitey grabby pushy feral ways or merely put up with them.
Part of our conversation was about relationships and stuff. The Pedant mentioned in passing that he wants to have a couple of women in his life that he can say “I love you” to. I honestly had no idea he wanted this – I thought he was permanently in “casual dating” mode. My heart skipped a beat as it occurred to me that he might be bringing this up as a roundabout way of saying he loved me**. He didn’t go on to make any declarations, though, and I really don’t think he’s a “hinter.” It seems more likely that he’s just discussing this stuff with me because I’m a good pal who’ll understand. Some small, pathetic part of me wanted to say “Tell me you love me! I miss loving someone and being loved; it seems like you do, too; so let’s just fake it as a kind of favour to each other. I do care a lot about you so I wouldn’t have to exaggerate all that much.” But of course I remained silent.
At one point The Pedant got on a tangent about how his cousin has “let herself go” (i.e., decided to start eating whatever she wanted and gotten fat as a result) and – as I always do when he expresses fat-hate – I told him he really has to drop this idea that eating = getting fat = being unhealthy because there’s actually not much of a correlation between these things. I told him that couching fat-hate as concern for someone’s “health” is bullshit anyway because I used to be unhealthy from eating total shit all the time – cookie dough or bacon for literally every meal, for instance – and nobody expressed any concern about my habits, presumably because I was very thin and had six-pack abs. The Pedant was like “How did you maintain a six-pack while eating bacon every day and not exercising?!?” and I bellowed “BECAUSE FOOD AND WEIGHT HAVE NOTHING TO FUCKING DO WITH EACH OTHER!!!!” I was seriously angrier with him right then than I’ve ever been – when people link health to body type/weight it triggers the fuck out of me. I fought to rein myself in – I was almost crying and I didn’t want to fall apart in front of him like that. I managed to get myself under control and conceded that yes, okay, a person’s food habits do affect their weight, but not as much as most people think. And I said that I think fat-hate really boils down to a person finding fat people unattractive and therefore being terrified of becoming fat, themselves. So, they rationalize that the horror of fatness will never happen to them because they’re doing everything right. It’s less scary to believe that fat people did something to make themselves fat than it is to acknowledge that age and genetics and health issues can all make you gain weight even if you’re eating good food and exercising.
I pointed out to The Pedant that my eating habits are still suboptimal a lot of the time and that I don’t really exercise. He rationalized like mad to bring his idea of me in line with his fat-hating philosophy (“But I’ve only seen you eat salads with chicken on top and stuff like that.” “Pfft, your job essentially involves you doing yoga for three straight hours.”). I fought him on this, but not too hard. Mmmmmaybe my opinion of my personal habits is kinda low? I do tend to have really stringent standards for what’s “healthy” and what’s not. I have no idea how I compare to the “average” person when it comes to diet and exercise, or what “average” even is. I’m still aware that there are undoubtedly fat chicks out there who have a similar lifestyle to mine (however you’d rate it) and yet remain fat – but that seemed like an
argument discussion for another time.
I told The Pedant about my maddeningly variable energy levels and how some days I get all head-rushy and dizzy and can’t stand for long periods – and that adjusting my food habits did help this, but despite my vigilance it still happens sometimes and I don’t know why and it’s terribly, terribly frustrating. I don’t think he realized any of this about me before. He petted me soothingly as I told him how my blood pressure is low to the point where the machine at the drugstore sometimes can’t even find my pulse to get a reading. He said that low blood pressure certainly would explain the headrushes and stuff, and I was right to up my salt intake and drink more water.
I think our conversation wandered off to less volatile places after that. By that point, The Pedant was lying on the couch and I was perched next to him on the edge, absent-mindedly petting his torso as we talked. At length, I noticed that my pettings seemed to be bringing about subtle breathing changes in him, even though I wasn’t targeting any of his erogenous zones. And then I noticed that he’d raised the knee that was closest to me and leaned it inward in an awkward-looking way, almost as though trying to conceal his crotch from me. Hell, maybe I’m wrong and he just happened to be sitting like that – but he was hard, as I saw a moment later when I kept petting him and he put that leg down.
A light tug at his shoulders was all the encouragement The Pedant needed to raise himself up so we could kiss. Kissing quickly escalated to fierce making out. Like before, everywhere I touched him seemed to bring a gasp or a moan. I started lightly stroking his cock – just gently moving his foreskin up and down – and he vocalized so hard I thought he was going to come on the spot. Instead he murmured “I think we should move to the bedroom.” So we did.
*At his birthday thing a couple of weeks prior, while we were waiting for the other people to arrive, The Pedant and I got into a discussion of how much he dislikes the Star Wars franchise. He’d then shown me a clip someone had posted on his Facebook wall of Simon Pegg ranting about Episodes I-III. I said “Oh – that clip is from Spaced.” The Pedant said “People keep telling me I need to watch that show but I haven’t yet” and I said “I own the DVDs. We’ll make this happen.” That was ostensibly his reason for coming over this time around: a clothing-optional Spaced marathon.
**I was feeling pretty moony over him at that moment and would have welcomed the news that it was mutual – although that would probably have just complicated things in the long run. My “love” for The Pedant is sporadic at best, triggered by cosy sex and offers of domestic help. If The Pedant confessed love to me – actual steady unwavering love – there would eventually be a hurtful imbalance, I think.