The Pedant is usually super discreet about passing gas. He must clamp down on it like crazy and let it out semi-silently or something…a handful of times he’s awkwardly said “excuse me” after a sound so quiet I hadn’t consciously noticed it until he said something.
But after our sex the first night he quickly fell so unconscious that he didn’t know what his body was doing anymore, and really let one rip. Short and sharp like a tuba blast. And his cock was still inside me at the time and it twitched. Ha!
The Pedant uses his phone as a Walkman, and put on some tunes for a while as he troubleshot my new phone. I commented that I liked what I was hearing and he said he figured I would. He’s noticed my tastes over the years and was able to extrapolate what I might like from his collection that I’ve never heard before. I love how intuitive and attentive he is about the things I like. Weird how little that translates into sex, though.
His absolute biggest obsession with the device switch was whether the WhatsApp messages from my old phone would naturally fall in line behind the recent WhatsApp messages on my new phone, or if whatever messages I’d had on my new phone would be wiped by the old messages. I believe it was the former. Now, WhatsApp lets you use it free for a year but then you have to pay a buck. The Pedant has been saying for a while that he doesn’t feel like paying that dollar, so when the time comes we should just switch to BlackBerry Messenger. But he found out that BBM doesn’t port messages to a new phone as smoothly, and he was infuriated and said maybe he’d stick with WhatsApp after all.
“Why do you care so much about being able to save conversations with people?” I asked. Because that’s his dog in this fight. He bade me use WhatsApp instead of regular texting ages ago because you can save the message history, and now he’s freaking out about BBM because it won’t let him save it exactly the way he wants to.
“I’m a pack rat,” The Pedant said. “I still have notes girls passed me in high school. I mean, not every note. But the important stuff.” Notice how he characterizes this as being a “pack rat” rather than mushy and sentimental even though that’s clearly what it is. He talks a good game about men and women being equal and yet he generally shuns traits that are thought of as “feminine” and will do anything to avoid identifying with them. (He’ll move the goalposts if he has to. He’s open in his contempt of skirts and heels and other feminine trappings, but when I pointed out that he had long hair for a big chunk of his life he was like “I don’t think of long hair as a woman thing. I think of it as a viking warrior thing.” Okay cool story bro but a) you don’t have any norse heritage b) it’s 2016 and right now long hair is definitely predominantly a chick thing c) Do you think the women in viking days had crew cuts? I would guess that long hair was an everyone thing, not specifically manly. d) Stockings and heels used to be worn by Edwardian men and pink used to be considered a guys’ colour so why do you associate those with women?)
Anyway. So now I know that The Pedant saves his conversations with people. The times I’ve told him mushy things via WhatsApp that he barely seemed to acknowledge? He obviously gets weird about dealing with emotions (his or other people’s) and hence the sometimes stilted replies, but I now know that he might very well reread my mushy missives on a regular basis, or at least that he can’t bear to delete them. This makes me happy.
On a related note, The Pedant met a woman at a concert a few months back who was visiting from Chicago, and they decided to become pen pals. Like with actual paper letters sent through the mail. The Pedant is super excited about this – turns out he feels writing letters is a lost art and he’s eager to have someone to do that with. So knowing that he has a thing for snail mail, and knowing that he saves important messages forever whether they’re paper or pixel, I’ve been thinking of getting his snail mail address and writing him a love letter. I think he would really like that. Of course, my asshole AnxietyBrain likes to brainstorm every possible outcome of everything and tends to make false dichotomies, so I’m kind of thinking that a love letter from me would either a) put him off (“Jeez, did she not get the hint when I ignored her I-love-yous? I’m not into hearing about her feelings. I’m just trying to have a nice ongoing thing where we fuck.”) or, he would actually respond and (wonder of wonders) say some mushy things back. The one time he indicated that he returns my feelings was via email, after all. Maybe it’s easier for him in writing.
But the poor starving vestiges of my LogicBrain tell me that he would most likely be pleased to receive a love letter from me, and keep it in whatever box he stores “important” things – but that his only response would be a WhatsApp message saying “I got your mail today. Thank you.” There’s a chance he would actually send a letter in return, and that it would say some variation on “the feelings are being reciprocated.” I do think saying stuff in writing might be easier for him than in person (it is for me…) so if he’s ever again going to go “Um yeah me too” it’ll be via WhatsApp, Email, or snail mail, I think. But only in my wildest fantasies should I allow myself to dream that he’d give back something as mushy as he got.
So I’m tempted to revive the decorous, obsolete art of the love letter. But I can’t decide whether sending The Pedant the mushy thoughts I’m too shy to tell him face-to-face will be like a steam vent releasing some of the pressure in my chest, or whether it’ll make me even more insane when he predictably doesn’t say much in return. I want a snail mail missive from me to be a fun thing for him, not an obligation or expectation. I don’t want to end up pushing the I-love-you imbalance into a full-on confrontation.
Not sure what to do now. Aside from call my doctor so I can go get started on a different anti-anxiety medication.