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Plans

The Dandy and I live in a major city and it’s getting expensive as fuck here. We’re somewhat exempt from the soaring rental prices, since we’ve been here a long time and you can only jack up the rent between tenants. But the flip side of that is we’re kind of…trapped. If we ever wanted to move to a different neighbourhood, we’d likely end up paying twice as much rent as we do now for half as much space. So we’re just kind of clinging to our tiny toehold here for dear life.

(Ohhh god, when The Dandy and I were talking about this the other day he said something like “I just don’t want to feel like I’m on the edge of poverty all the time” and I couldn’t help it, I just started incredulously laughing my ass off. My laughter seemed to snap him back to reality a bit and he sheepishly amended “Okay, not the edge of poverty per se. I mean I’ve gotten used to a certain lifestyle and I would resent it if we moved to a more expensive place and I had to give that up.” Fair enough.)

Anyway, even though we like this city and we like our apartment – no pressing reason to move, or anything – The Dandy and I are aware that if we moved to a less-major city, we might be able to own a pretty big house for the same amount we’re paying here. Or at least get an equally awesome apartment for a lot less, and have even more disposable income. So we’ve been idly talking about moving elsewhere.

It’s not the first time we’ve talked about this stuff, but I always balked before because I couldn’t bear the thought of leaving The Pedant behind*. Which seems ridiculous now. Things with him had kinda started to suck a long time ago and I hate thinking that I was limiting my options in life just so he could come over hours late, have (admittedly great) sex with me, and then eat my food and borrow money and/or try to get me to give him my actual damn furniture.

The thing is, the cheapest places to live will probably inevitably be ones where I won’t be able to find much work. Ideally I need a city with more than one college or university in it, plus efficient public transit because I don’t drive, and those are two of the specific factors that tend to make a city expensive.

I was pretty blunt with The Dandy. I told him that if we move somewhere cheap, chances are he’ll have to support me pretty much entirely. Actually, I used to have an online clip store (like, sexy/kinky clips to buy) and I feel I was excellent at making clips and would like to do it again, which I could do from anywhere. But I’d need to upgrade some tech to be able to record and edit clips properly and anyway it would be a long damn time before I could get steady money trickling in from that, if ever. So I’m willing to move to another city with The Dandy but he has to understand that I might never be able to contribute to the household financially. And he’d better be really damn serious about keeping me around permanently because if we’re living in some city with no model gigs and he breaks up with me, I am completely fucked. Like…completely.

None of that even made The Dandy blink. I thought it might give him pause, since before me he was totally supporting Dandette and she was pretty obviously a millstone around his neck that he was dying to cut loose but didn’t know how because he was ostensibly her only means of survival. It seems pretty likely that I could become the same thing to him, if he sours on me. But I guess he doesn’t see himself souring on me. (Also, he sees me as having better survival skills than Dandette does. I’m not sure that’s true**, but it’s how he sees it.)

I couldn’t support myself on my own in this city, anyway, and I love The Dandy, so fuck it, I’m throwing my lot in with his and we’ll see where we end up.

 

*I’d be sad to leave my friends, too, but what I do with my friends via text/email is basically same same as what I do with them in person: talking, sharing anecdotes, pep talks when the other one is going through stuff, etc. I wouldn’t need to miss them all that much if I moved away. Conversely, when I was physically near The Pedant there were cuddles and sex and when I wasn’t physically near him there was…almost nothing, so being within visiting range of him was a bigger deal to me.

**On one hand, I’m more mentally stable and when I’ve needed money, I’ve buckled down and figured something out. On the other hand I’m a huge introvert with social anxiety and would pretty much rather die than live with strangers (and even in cheaper cities, I might not be able to reasonably afford an apartment on my own at this point), while Dandette is super extroverted and would probably be fine crashing in someone’s bathtub or sleeping dorm-style in bunk beds in a room with forty other people. So I think it’s actually about even.

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Gender essentialist bullshit

So, originally, I had a model gig on Valentine’s Day from 6:30-9:30. I booked it without noticing the significance of the date, and V-Day isn’t that important to either of us, anyway, so meh. I told The Dandy it might have been nice to have dinner together or something but we could always do that the next day, instead (and have half-price chocolates, to boot!)

Then he ended up getting scheduled for an angiogram for the day after V-Day, first thing in the morning. I didn’t want him to be worrying about it all alone the night before, and probably couldn’t have mustered a great performance at work knowing he was at home worrying, so I cancelled my shift.

The Dandy had to fast for a bunch of hours before the procedure. I said his last meal beforehand oughta be a good one – something a little extra awesome to make up for the shitty day he was about to have. He suggested doing up a pork loin (the one that I ended up cooking for us after the angiogram was done), but I was like “Mehhh, you have a limited amount of time between getting home from work and having to fast. Why waste time cooking? Ordering in would be better.”

The Dandy ended up opting to go out to eat. He had no specific place in mind; we have a whole bunch of decent restaurants near us so we were just gonna wander a bit and see what appealed to us. Only when we were actually doing this wandering did I see the crowds inside the restaurants – plus flowers, heart-shaped balloons, candles, etc – and remember “Ohhhhh fuck, it’s Valentine’s Day. We’re trying to get a spot in a restaurant during peak hours on Valentine’s Day.”

Not everywhere was packed; we did find a restaurant with some open slots, so that’s good.

And at the end of our meal, our overly friendly, kind of trying-too-hard waiter said to The Dandy, “It’s a good thing you came out! You know how women are: they might say they don’t want you to make a big deal of a holiday, but if you believe them and don’t make plans to do something, you might as well not even come home, amirite?” The Dandy and I just laughed awkwardly. We were right at the end of the transaction and I think both of us found his general persona a bit cringey and just wanted to get out of there. But it bugs the fuck out of me that he would say this WHILE I WAS SITTING RIGHT THERE, as if expecting me to nod along like “Ha ha it’s true! I set people up to fail because I love seething with resentment!”

I kind of wish I’d said something to the waiter. Like “Oh wow this is awkward I’m actually sitting right here and can hear you” or “Wow, I guess you need to meet better women because I actually say what I mean” or “It was his idea to come out, actually” or even just a very deadpan and ridiculous exaggeration to make him feel uncomfortable: “Oh, for sure. I like to earnestly tell a guy I want one thing and then, if he doesn’t do the exact opposite, I’ll straight-up castrate him with a grapefruit spoon. The looks on their faces when the edge of that spoon bursts through their scrotums OMG. It is seriously hilarious. Well, have a good night!”

The Dandy told me later that he was tempted to say “Yeah actually I’m having surgery tomorrow and I wanted to go somewhere nice for my final meal beforehand.”

But we both wussed out. Oh well.

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I did all the things!

In preparation for The Dandy’s angiogram, I memorized all the stuff he was supposed to do before and after so I could remind him if necessary. I bought protein bars to bring with me because I knew I’d be in the waiting room forever and probably wouldn’t eat enough beforehand to sustain me. I looked up some numbers of cab companies to bring us home, and put them in my phone’s address book. I put The Dandy’s mom’s cell number in my address book so I could text her updates. I plotted out the best route to the hospital via public transit and when we’d have to leave, and which wing and floor we needed to get to inside the hospital (although it turns out The Dandy had done that, too. He said it was still probably good that I had all that stuff in my mind, too, though, because he’s pretty derpy in the morning).

We woke up at 6:30am (or I did, anyway, to give me time to eat before we left. The Dandy was fasting so he got to snooze a bit longer). The Dandy had packed everything he would need and even laid out his clothes the night before so he could get ready fast (and boy, did I appreciate it. I was doing everything I could to be a good backup person but I like that The Dandy didn’t go all helpless and make me coordinate everything. Minx would have. The Pedant probably would have, too).

We got The Dandy checked in by 8am, as requested. They took him in immediately – not to do the angiogram, but so he could wait in a different room for god knows how long. I sat in the waiting room completely ignoring all the books I’d brought with me. I texted The Dandy’s mom that we’d gotten there okay and everything, dozed in my chair, surfed the internet on my phone. At 10am they told me The Dandy was in the recovery room and I could see him for a bit (he would have to lie there for three full hours before he was allowed to leave, though. They wanted to make sure his incision had started to clot properly).

The Dandy was in a big room with a row of beds divided by curtains and a lot of medical people bustling around. Someone pointed me to his compartment. He was exhausted, but reassuringly like himself (they hadn’t doped him up or anything – local anesthetic only, I guess). I held his hand and distracted him with jokes and tangents about the original Star Trek for as long as the staff would let me and then it was back out to the waiting room to text The Dandy’s mom an update and wait around for another two and a half hours or so.

Finally, The Dandy showed up in the waiting room and we slowly and carefully made our way to the front door of the hospital. I ended up not having to call a cab; there was a row of them waiting outside for whoever, as often happens outside places a lot of people go to (I’d figured there would be, but I’d prepared just in case).

Once we got home I made The Dandy a quick bagel and jam because he hadn’t eaten since the night before. I know that having to go through medical stuff like this is messing with his body image (he made a joke, shortly after getting the angiogram appointment, that it’s time to recycle him like a scrapped car, and I was like “ummmm wow d’you wanna talk about that a bit?”) and I was worried he’d push himself too hard when he should be recovering, just so as not to feel like an invalid. So I gave him a little speech that as far as I’m concerned, the most important thing in the world is for his incision to have a chance to heal up, so I insist that he basically just lies around like a rag doll all weekend so he doesn’t stress the wound. Basically, I made into a thing where I’m paranoid about his health so even if he’s feeling fine, I want him to relax and take it easy for me. And  I guessed correctly that it’s getting up and sitting down that hurts the most so I told him straight up if he even needs me to help lower him on the toilet or anything, I’ll do it. I give no fucks. I don’t consider it embarrassing or gross or anything. I just want him to get better.

Then I said that if he didn’t need me for anything, I was gonna go lie in bed and probably die for a little while. It had been a really early morning and it’s not like I’d slept that well the night before, either.

I woke up from a light sleep to The Dandy standing in my bedroom doorway. “I need something from you,” he said. I asked him what and he said “Cuddles” and carefully climbed up on my bed and spooned me. That made me so happy. Before the angiogram I’d asked him if he felt he’d want me sleeping next to him or if he’d want space, and he said he’d likely need room to sprawl out and get comfy. But it turned out he was able to sleep next to me, after all, and we passed out for a few hours.

When we woke up, The Dandy was starving again. We’d had plans to cook a roast for dinner (The Dandy has been eating a lot of convenience foods lately and just my luck he got sick of them right when he wasn’t in a position to cook…I don’t really know what I’m doing in the kitchen at all!) but the roast would take an hour and he was super hungry right that minute. I started pre-heating the oven for the pork loin and in the meantime made The Dandy some pasta. On an impulse, I used the almost-heated-up oven to make some cheesy garlic bread, too. It all came out edible and when The Dandy wanted a glass of water to go with it, he didn’t hesitate to ask me. Good. I’m dead serious about him minimizing the number of times he gets out of his bed or chair.

Then I made myself some food and cleaned the kitchen and The Dandy carefully relocated himself to the couch so we could finish out season 1 of American Gods. I wasn’t expecting The Dandy to do anything but convalesce this weekend, but when I sat down he held out his arm for me to cuddle into him and he petted me the whole time. Really, ever since we got back from the hospital he’s been radiating huge lovey-dovey vibes, either because I’m taking care of him or because today felt so risky* or both. I’m smitten as fuck with him, too – a panic reaction to that slight risk of losing him.

The remote control for the Apple TV (the device that lets us access Netflix and Prime and all of that) died after that and I was like “Dammit, I wanted to watch more things!”

The Dandy suggested I stand naked in front of the tv and he could watch me, instead. So I did and he did and (he was in just his bathrobe, and the robe had fallen open) he started immediately pitching a tent without either of us actually touching him at all (good lord, I don’t know if I can remember the last time that happened except occasional morning wood). I gave him a very careful blowjob and then he went off to watch YouTube and stuff on his computer, since the tv is essentially out of commission for us.

A while later he called for me and I immediately came to his bedroom. He was in bed and said he thought I might like to get some snuggle time with him before he completely passes out. I did in fact want snuggle time. So I crawled under the blankets next to him and he petted me for a while and then dozed off and now I’m here writing.

I feel like I hit all the right marks re: handling this whole thing. Thank god.

 

*The chances of the angiogram going horribly wrong for him were one percent. Which is very good, but still not zero. But then there’s the thing where maybe the angiogram would find some big problem and The Dandy would have to have heart surgery again.

 

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Good news!

The Dandy’s angiogram is done AND they didn’t find anything problematic.

I think the nightmare is over for now.

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Well fuck.

The Dandy (and I, in an emotional support capacity) went back to his doctor today for the results of his heart tests. They’re concerned there’s more blockage so he has to get an angiogram this Friday (they run a tube up to his heart through an artery in his crotch to have a look around. Grossssss.).

I’m not letting myself think about what could happen next. Much. Shitty anxious thoughts are creeping around the edges of this mental block I’ve constructed, but mostly I just want to focus on the present because really, this could turn out to be nothing.

What I’m scared of most right now is that I won’t be supportive enough and The Dandy will feel afraid and alone and probably end up resenting me for it. I have a track record of being stupid about this stuff.

I’m going to his angiogram with him. If they let me be present in the room I’ll be there, and if they don’t, maybe I can duck out and buy a bunch of convenience foods so The Dandy has a stockpile of easy, yummy meals while he recuperates (it sounds like he’ll have to be in there for several hours at least. He’ll be waiting for the procedure for god knows how long and then the procedure itself takes however long and then they’ll make him lie down for three hours afterward while the hole in his leg starts to close up or whatever).

The difficult thing for me is that so many platitudes people use to comfort each other revolve around “you’ll be fine” and “don’t worry” and other things that negate people’s feelings. Plus – perhaps taking a cue from my mom – I have this tendency to want to compliment The Dandy for being brave (ie not showing pain or fear in a situation). None of this is helpful, and I’d say it’s actually harmful – especially since The Dandy’s mom was very much a “Pull yourself together in a crisis! It’s untoward to show your feelings!” person and it trained The Dandy to bottle shit up and not ask for help when he needs it.

So I have to undo my tendency to smooth things over, to say that everything will be fine, to reward stoicism. Bravery isn’t tantamount to silent endurance, anyway; it just means you were afraid of a thing but you did it anyway. I will not be like my mother was with me when I was growing up. I won’t make The Dandy feel that expressing fear or pain makes him a coward. FUCK that shit.

I need to provide comfort by acknowledging that this shit is scary and that it’s okay to feel scared. By complimenting The Dandy on being proactive about his health, not on how silent he was during a procedure. By making sure he knows I’m here for him and he can tell me whatever fears he has.

And of course I need to keep most of my own fears away from him and vent outward, to friends of mine who aren’t affected. Like you guys! Lucky, lucky you. 😛

One thing that kinda blindsided me with all of this was that when The Dandy went for that initial test (running on a treadmill with electrodes attached to him), they shaved two spots of his chest hair to attach electrodes to. It makes perfect sense that they would have to do that, but I just wasn’t thinking, so I got surprised by the bald patches the next time I saw The Dandy with his shirt off. And it felt really violating. I love The Dandy’s chest hair. He’s not a manscaping type at all, and has never shaved or trimmed any of his body hair in his entire life. Neither of us would have chosen for any part of his chest to be shaved. And yet here we are.

When he got back from that treadmill test and said they detected something a little “off” and wanted to look into it some more, The Dandy said he dreaded being “poked and prodded” again. He’s already been through a bunch of heart tests and shit before, which led up to his bypass surgery five years ago. I got the feeling he wasn’t talking about being afraid of pain per se, so much as feeling like an object being manhandled. And then later that night he came into my room shirtless and I saw his partially shaved chest and that drove the point home.

The Dandy’s previous angiogram was through his arm (I think? That was before we were together). This one will need to be through his crotch, and he’ll need to have part of his pubes shaved for it. I just now suggested to him that maybe he could shave his whole crotch himself beforehand so it’s him choosing to be pube-less, not some medical person. I said we could turn it into a fun thing where I’m able to run my tongue over parts of him that have never felt a tongue before, without there being a medical incision in the way, and then he can go get re-shaved and angiogrammed by hospital staff.

Since I said that, The Dandy has had a shower, but he hasn’t come in to show off a new pube-style so I’m guessing he’s opted not to shave anything. Maybe he’ll do it some other time in the coming days, or maybe not. It is of course his body and his choice. TBH my suggestion was as much for me as it was for him though so it would be neat if he decided to go for it. Seeing The Dandy’s crotch half-shaved by the hospital is gonna make me all sad n shit.

Anyway, the hospital gave him a handout on what happens before/during/after an angiogram and I’m gonna type the most important bits out here in case it gets misplaced. I want to be able to be the best backup for The Dandy that I can.

Relevant stuff for before the procedure:

  • The Dandy needs to fast for 12 hours beforehand.
  • He needs to bring all his meds to the appointment, in their original containers.
  • The Dandy needs to get some blood tests done before procedure day, which will also require fasting.

Relevant stuff for after the procedure:

  • A responsible adult has to drive The Dandy home (this will have to be a cab driver since I don’t have my license).
  • It’s okay for him to take Advil or Tylenol for any pain, unless the doctor says not to.
  • If the wound starts to bleed, he needs to lie down and apply pressure to it for ten minutes.
  • He needs to put pressure on the wound if he sneezes or coughs and while climbing stairs.
  • He can’t drive or have alcohol for the next 24 hours.
  • He needs to take it easy for the next 48 hours (including no sex).
  • No baths for three days because the wound could start bleeding again if it’s soaked in water.
  • Keep the bandages clean and dry, obviously, and replace them if they’re not.

Signs that something is going wrong and The Dandy needs medical attention:

  • His leg starts hurting more and more.
  • His leg becomes cold or numb.
  • Increase in bruising.
  • Increase in swelling.
  • Bleeding does not stop with rest and pressure.
  • His leg gets red or discoloured.
  • The wound oozes pus.
  • The Dandy gets a fever.

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Annnd I just got off again.

Third orgasm of the day. Almost makes me feel like my old self, it does.

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I guess you could say I “Carried” him.

My period started this morning. Shortly after that, I happened to feel horny, and penetrative sex tends to shake a lot of blood loose and make my period shorter, so I expressed to The Dandy that I was interested in fucking him. He was game.

I have recently learned that apparently men’s testosterone levels are highest in the morning, which may explain why most guys I’ve dated are more readily up for sex in the morning than (my preferred time of) the evening. Also, though, The Dandy’s job has been taking a lot out of him lately and a weekend morning is a pretty ideal time to catch him when he’s not obsessing on work stuff, I bet. And this probably explains why I tried getting him hard last night and it just wasn’t happening but this morning as soon as I said “sex now” he started pitching a tent.

I got myself off first (while staring at his gorgeous perfect boner). Then came the penetrative portion of our festivities, which (as is typical at this time of month, for me) felt unusually great. When my thighs wore out from riding him, we switched places. The Dandy was taking a while to come but I didn’t especially mind. It was an interesting novelty being on the bottom for a change. Normally The Dandy collapses flat onto me because his arms get tired fast if he holds himself up, but today he did spend long periods supporting his upper body on his arms, so I got to watch his face and I had my hands free to play with his nipples and I could lie back and relax instead of stressing my thighs.

After he came and rolled off me I immediately grabbed my Hitachi and got myself off a second time. It was the first time in a dog’s age that I managed to get off while on my back and with nothing inside me (lately my default is humping the Hitachi, or else using it on my back but with The Dandy providing some dildo action at the same time). The Dandy had turned me on that much.

And the sex was a total gorefest. The condom and The Dandy’s balls were covered. My hand that had guided him inside me was bloody, and I’d left a big handprint of blood on my thigh as I got situated on top of him. I find this bloody aftermath of period sex super hilarious for some reason. I guess it feels like I marked my territory.

Also…I get the feeling The Dandy finds this alien/pointless/annoying but after sex I have a compulsion to talk about it. I don’t think I always did this. I think I do it now because my downstairs area doesn’t work so well anymore and I’m always afraid I’ll never have huge orgasms with euphoric chemical rushes again. So when it happens, I’m like “Hey. Dandy. Hey. Guess what? WE HAD SEXXXXX!!!” for a few hours afterward. Yes, I’m a dork.

Happy Saturday, everyone. 😀

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