The Dandy and Dandette are still gone so I had The Pedant over last night. It felt less-weird fucking him in the bed I usually share with The Dandy than I’d imagined it would. Or maybe I expected The Pedant to be weird about it and he pretty much wasn’t.

One funny thing: The Dandy is the kind of nerd who owns swords. They’re displayed on a rack on the bedroom wall. The Pedant made a big show of checking them out and was like “Huh, a couple of these aren’t usable.” I said they might not be razor sharp or anything but I think you could still stab someone pretty effectively. The Pedant was like “No, these ones up top are rounded at the end. They’ve been – ” and here he used a technical term I didn’t know and can’t remember. Like it was clear he was trying hard to one-up The Dandy’s knowledge of old weaponry or whatever. So he was all “these sword-blades have been technicaltermed, rendering them unusable.”

“They’re in scabbards,” I said. The Pedant had mistaken the metal sheaths on the swords for the blades themselves. So much for his mighty expertise.


The Pedant continues to be less selfish and more attentive than he used to be, and again I wonder whether someone taught him this or if he’s taking me for granted less now that our relationship is less certain* or what.

When he first arrived, he offered to help me re-shave my head (not unusual for him) and when I was showering the clippings off he came in with me just to help me rinse away the bits that I missed. I don’t recall him doing that before; if he wanted to take a shower anyway he’d come in with me, and sometimes he’d wash me in some capacity, but he’s never come into the shower just for me. What especially struck me about this was that he smiled at me while doing it. He’s always been matter-of-fact before when helping me with my hair but this time any time I accidentally caught his eye he’d beam beatifically at me. It was very sweet.

Eventually I was all shaved and rinsed and dried and we were making out in my bed. IĀ  told him the memory of how his mouth feels on me is one of my go-to fantasies and he replied “everything about you is one of mine.” Dammmmn! Upping his dirty talk game like whoa! And to think I used to wonder if he even remembered I existed when we weren’t together. He kept on riffing about me and how awesome our sex is. And it was in the form of “I love -” statements, which I’m fairly sure is how he deflects when he really wants to say “I love you” but can’t because he’s kind of emotionally stunted.

Things progressed to me tying him down and riding him but then just to be a brat I abruptly stopped when he was close to orgasm and insisted he get me off instead. Well, not just to be a brat. He does pass way the fuck out after orgasming usually and so I wanted to make sure I was satisfied first. I had a bit of trouble coming but The Pedant took the Hitachi from me unbidden (which is an interesting coincidence because I had privately decided that I should teach him how to use it on me – I get tired of my sex life basically being wanking in front of guys) and followed my directions reasonably well and just having someone else be the one stimulating my clit was enough to get me going and get me off pretty fast.

Then I rode him some more, trash-talking that I should just leave him tied up and unsatisfied when I went to that evening’s shift and he’d have to wait like a passive piece of fuckmeat for me to come home and use him again. He just about lost his mind at the hotness of that idea (not that I’d do it, and I don’t think he’d genuinely want me to, either). He started begging to come and I was like “Will you be able to go again once I get back from work? Because I’ll want more of you.” He repeatedly, breathily, urgently promised me that if I let him come now he’d still be able to come again later. So I granted permission and KERPOW.

I left him passed out in my bed and went to work. At quitting time he texted me saying to let him know my ETA and he’d be waiting for me in the bedroom, naked except for the restraints. I cheekily asked if he could add “…and holding a sandwich” to that scenario, and told him he’d find gluten-free bread, mayo, prosciutto, cheese, and tomatoes in the fridge. It felt a little daring to do that – I’m only officially his dominant when it comes to sexual stuff, and he doesn’t seem to like doing domestic things too much. But he totally did make me a sandwich and greet me with it, and that was lovely.

The soles of my feet were all black from walking around barefoot during breaks at work (art studios often have charcoal dust on the floor, plus this particular place was just kinda filthy) and The Pedant said I ought to wash the grime off, adding that actually it might be easier to just shower again, and that the hot water might help my back that I’d strained in a long pose, too. I opted to take a hot bath, instead, with Epsom salts. I bade The Pedant come kneel by the tub and wash anyplace I couldn’t reach. I put bubble stuff in the bath as well as the salt, so The Pedant idly scooped up handfuls of suds and rubbed his hands over my arms, belly, and legs while I soaked. Then I had him scrub my back with the loofah. I washed my filthy feet myself, though. šŸ™‚

The hot water had made me itchy, perhaps from drying out my skin, so once I got out and dried off I lay on the bed and asked The Pedant to apply moisturizer to me, and he did, thoroughly, and turned it into a massage. When I asked him to move his massaging efforts from my legs to the soles of my feet, he did – and he listened to instructions and didn’t half-ass it! He mashed the tension out of my soles good and hard until I was a blissful puddle. It didn’t feel perfunctory and he didn’t constantly ask “feeling better?” like he was waiting for his cue to stop. WHAT IS THIS I CAN’T EVEN.

Once I finally felt fed and refreshed and clean and ready for action, what I ended up doing was tying The Pedant to the bed again and giving him a hand job while flexing two of my fingers in his ass. At one point he gave me the heads-up that if I kept going, he’d come. “Do you want to?” I asked. He said no, not yet, if he came he’d pass out and I’d said that I wanted to use him all evening long, so…(!!!!!!!!!)

But TBH my thigh muscles were sore as hell from all the sex and orgasms I’ve been having lately and I was really enjoying doing stuff to The Pedant. Now that I knew he was pretty close to coming, I kept a close eye on his responses and kept on slowly stroking his cock until his eyes rolled back in his head and his mouth formed a silent scream and he was literally a breath away from exploding in my hand – and then I’d let go of his cock and just finger his nipples or flutter the fingers that were inside him for a little while. I did this over…and over…and over…and over. I was kind of hoping that if I got him desperate enough, just my fingers in his ass or on his nipples would drive him over the edge, but alas no. He did start whispering “please…please…please…!” as I brought him toward the edge for like the tenth time though (probably sensing that I was absorbed in the hand job and wouldn’t need him to serve me in any other way that night, after all). I murmured, “Yes. Come for me.” And I kept on stroking him and he got really close but seemed to be having a hard time getting over (overstimulated?). I stopped moving my fingers inside him (cutting down on distractions, as it were) and that did the trick. He got all fidgety and pulled against the restraints and then bucked his shoulders off the mattress and howled with release. I resumed fluttering my fingers inside him and kept on steadily stroking his cock and he had like two more big spasms that seemed to take him by surprise and then finally seemed spent.

We didn’t fuck any more the next morning. I think we were both thoroughly used up. But there was cuddling and he ended up coming to work with me and hanging out for a bit (loath, as usual, to leave my side even though he had an errand in the opposite direction from where I was going. At every leg of the journey he’d be like “Well I might as well wait for the bus with you” all nonchalant n shit but then when the bus came he’d just kinda get on it with me for no good reason and still be nonchalant about it…).

But yeah. Good visit.


*I mean, we technically broke up and he calls us FWB now (even though he continues to act as intimate with me as he ever did and TBH I really think we’re dating again and he’s just kidding himself). And I’m less attached to and obsessed with him and I think he can feel that.

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Polyamory jokes

Sometime in the last bunch of days I was spelling out for The Dandy just how much thought I’ve been putting into trying to make sure Dandette is comfortable and feels like a part of things. Like I’ll go out of my way to hang out in the living room with her sometimes, even though I’d been perfectly content reading on the bed while The Dandy was on the internet (on his computer which is also in the bedroom). I’ll make sure I don’t always sit next to The Dandy on the couch. I just generally am careful to make sure The Dandy and I aren’t joined at the hip and seeming like a unit in such a way that Dandette might feel hurt or “extra.”

“…After all, you’re ours, not just mine,” I concluded.

“So, I’m not mine?”

“No. There’s no time to belong to yourself. You have two girlfriends.”

And yesterday The Dandy kept me company on a run to the bank and was standing on the other side of the cordon while I was in line. I reached out to touch him affectionately and he playfully backed off a few steps to make it difficult. “No, I’m the girlfriend with the long arms. You’re thinking of the other one,” I said, easily putting my hand on him anyway.

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On a side note

I’ve known The Dandy for maybe seven years or something but never heard his (unusual) last name pronounced until Dandette said it a few months ago. It’s pronounced differently from how I’d assumed, and I’d been saying it the wrong way in my head for so damn long that it’s like I have to reprogram my brain completely now if I ever wanna get it right.

So that’s funny.

Oh, and another tangent: I wasn’t too keen on The Dandy’s body when we were first dating, aesthetically speaking (except his cock which is spectacular), but I’m used to it now. That body is the carrying case for a brain I particularly like, and it’s warm and it’s familiar, so I’m fond of it. Sometimes I even find it physically attractive. I wonder if I’m too quick to dismiss guys who seem neat-o but their looks don’t really do it for me? I wonder if I could be attracted to any guy I liked, eventually, as long as he had one or two features I enjoyed, or if it only happens sometimes for whatever reason?

Related: I think a big component of attraction for me is that a guy has a face that looks good to me close up. Which seems to require a wide/fat face, since close up I go a bit cross-eyed and it kinda compresses the other person’s features. Men with skinny faces end up looking like stick insects to me. The Dandy has kind of a big face (in keeping with his general overweightness, I guess) and really pretty eyes and when we lie in bed together I stare into his face from four inches away and he is the prettiest goddamned boy in the whole world. So pretty it makes me catch my breath. So pretty I can actually feel my pupils dilate when I look at him, to the point where my eyes hurt. And actually I think this eye contact thing is kinda new; I seem to recall The Dandy becoming uncomfortable and deflecting, before, when I would try to gaze into his eyes like that. Now he seems to revel in it.

Things are not happening in the order I would have preferred, but now – finally – after dating him for months and moving in with him, I think I’m kinda falling in love with this boy.

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Another obvious epiphany

I’m realizing that for a long time, I essentially had an eating disorder. I’d become super afraid of consuming carbs and sugar because I seemed to get more of a sugar rush than other people, and also more of a crash. I’d attributed this to being borderline hypoglycemic (this is official. I’ve had my blood sugar tested).

I was so convinced that sugar and carbs were making me sick, in fact, that when the Atkins diet became all the rage I hopped right on board. I mean, carbs seemed to make me feel sickly and the Atkins diet supposedly gives people an amazing burst of energy and they feel great all the time, so this was relevant to my interests.

Except I felt like shit on Atkins. The diet is supposed to make you feel icky for like three days as your body switches primary fuel sources from carbs to fat, but on day three or so, you’re supposed to leap out of bed feeling amazing. I was on Atkins for months and felt absolutely drained and draggy the entire time (I kept with it because I’m a stubborn asshole and figured surely the burst of energy would kick in any…day…now…). And if I accidentally did eat more than the recommended amount of carbs/sugar in a sitting? It fucked me up even more. I know it sounds melodramatic but I am being absolutely serious: one day when I was on Atkins I made myself some cottage cheese pancakes (thinking “animal protein doesn’t have a lot of carbs so this should be safe” but lactose, dude. Lactose.) and ended up straight-up lying on the floor crying because I didn’t have the energy to move. Like, at all. My limbs felt like they each weighed a hundred pounds.

A few years later I hired a nutritionist to get my eating habits sorted out, and even he didn’t know why I reacted to Atkins like that. He said he’d never heard of that happening to anyone. And this was a highly accredited dude who was recommended to me by someone I respect!

But I finally connected two very important dots the other day.

I have celiac disease. Celiac disease causes intestinal damage that keeps a person from properly absorbing the nutrients in their food.Ā  But as far as I know, sugar doesn’t need the get to the intestines – it starts absorbing right way through the stomach lining. Or maybe it absorbs through the intestines (Google can’t seem to make up its mind on this), but clearly – trust me on this – the damage from celiac disease doesn’t impede that absorption process at all.

For years and years I knew I was a sugar/carb addict and felt ashamed of my lack of self-control. I’d cut out refined sugar and try to eat only complex carbs – the healthy kind we’re all supposed to focus on – and even then I’d go batshit-crazy on them and not be able to stop. My portions were all wonkus.

You guys, I WASN’T ABSORBING THE NUTRIENTS IN MY FOOD. CARBS WERE MY ONLY SOURCE OF ENERGY. I was basically walking around with malnutrition and sugars of various kinds were the only fuel my body could properly process, and I cut those off, too, so then if I tried to have just a little bit of pasta or something my starving brain would make me inhale ten pounds of it just to have something sustaining me, and I’d berate myself for being a weak piece of shit, for giving myself an intense hypoglycemic “sugar crash” that made me feel drained and lethargic after. Except it wasn’t hypoglycemia doing that, it was the gluten in the pasta plus the fact that my body’s base state was “chronically malnourished” (so, maybe less of a “carb crash” and more a “temporary lift followed by going back to normal” where “normal” means fatigued and derpy) plus perhaps that I wasn’t absorbing any of the nutrients that would slow down the absorption of the sugars.

Then I went on Atkins, which meant never taking in any fuel my body could properly use, so of course I never had any energy. It also meant I ate little-to-no gluten, so my intestines started to repair themselves, which was key to me realizing something had been very, very wrong with my body up to that point, so there’s a silver lining. But it kills me that I lambasted myself for a lack of willpower for so long over my carb cravings when in fact I managed long periods of being extremely low-carb even though this denied my body of its only energy source, rendered me completely fatigued and burned out most of the time, and was literally starving my brain.

Now that I’ve been off gluten long enough for my intestinal damage to have repaired itself, I’m finally experiencing that thing everyone always says about eating nutritious food making you feel better. I’d thought that was a myth, since I always felt just as shitty being vegan as I did eating McDonalds as I did being paleo. But now I do feel a difference when I eat my veggies, and it’s surprisingly immediate. And I can eat (gluten free) pasta now in moderation; I guess my body is absorbing enough vitamins that it doesn’t depend on the pasta in my meal as its main energy source anymore, so now there’s a sort of natural stopping point where my gut or brain or whatever says “Okay, that’s enough carbs” all on its own. So on one hand, I eat a lot less spaghetti in one sitting now than I used to, but on the other hand, dude I can eat so many carbs now and not get fucked up!!! I mean, the moderate amount of pasta my body enjoys these days before it says “enough” doesn’t really make me feel high, just good.

I really wish I’d figured this shit out a few decades sooner. šŸ˜¦


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The other night The Dandy and I had sorta decided we were gonna have sex but we weren’t hurrying toward it, just talking and goofing around. I asked him to beg me to torture his cock and balls – not that I’d do it, since I know he’s not into it, but I wanted the titillation of hearing him ask. He wouldn’t, though. He’s said and done other things just to please me but I guess this was the line.

I’m up for a certain amount of acting in order to turn him on, though, so I asked what incongruous-for-me thing he’d like to hear me say that would arouse him. He said he guessed an incongruous-but-hot thing for me to say would be “boss me around.”

“I have said that,” I said. “Maybe not in those exact words, but I’ve asked you a few times to tell me what you’d like me to do.” I think I’d asked him just that morning, actually…I mean the thing is, The Dandy doesn’t seem to have a lot of turn-ons and I’m a person who wants to really “wow” my partners in bed. So if a partner is kind of opaque in his reactions (as The Dandy often is) I’ll be like “Tell me what you want right now” in hopes that he’ll guide me to the specific things he craves and I’ll do them and that way I know I’m being good in bed, with him, at that moment.

Our conversation wandered off to other topics and then I ended up kissing/licking/sucking his cock (it’s really pretty and has great mouthfeel, and The Dandy is naked around the house a lot, so I get distracted that way a fair bit). After a few minutes I looked up at him, grinned, and said “boss me around.”

The Dandy hesitated.

“Tell me what to do,” I encouraged. “…Uh, just make sure it’s stuff I actually can do. Don’t tell me to deep throat you or anything.”

After another brief pause, The Dandy said “Well, I guess for starters I never told you you could stop sucking my cock.”

Ooooh, fun! After so many conversations where I tried to pry out of him what he wanted as a dominant (so I could attempt to give him some of it, although I’m not sure he realized that’s why I asked) he was finally opening up a bit. I made big eyes at him and softly said “I’m sorry, sir” (and his cock twitched in my hand) and went back to sucking and licking him. He reached down and petted my hair. After a while I looked up at him with the same big eyes and asked “Am I a good girl?” He said that I was and I said “Thank you, sir” (and his cock twitched again. Hee! Dance, puppet, dance!) and went back to it.

The Dandy gave me no further instructions and my jaw started to get tired so eventually I disengaged and asked “permission to board?” while shifting my gaze pointedly between his face and his cock. He said yes and I got out the condoms and lube and from there our sex proceeded like it normally does.

Afterward, I asked if he’d liked telling me what to do. “It was…kind of disconcerting,” The Dandy said, “but yeah, I did like it.”

I laughed because I totally know what he means about it being disconcerting. That morning when we had sex (I’ve been a huuuuge horndog lately and Dandette’s been gone so I’m just on him all the time), I was on top and at one point The Dandy laced his fingers with mine and pulled me forward so I ended up basically pinning his arms to the mattress. Which…should have been hot? He’s got such gorgeous blue eyes and they look even bigger when he gazes up at me, which he was doing. But I know he’s dominant so it’s like…is he doing this in a conscious attempt to turn me on? Does he just not realize that his current position might come across as bottomy to me? How much am I allowed to enjoy this? If I enjoy it too much or make too big a thing of it will it kill his boner? Etc.

I’m blanking on what exactly I said to The Dandy here. I definitely said I’m willing to play that way sometimes – with him telling me what to do and stuff. I may have added a codicil that he not act too stereotypically domly-dom. I definitely brought up the fact that I will sometimes enjoy him in a dominant sorta way inside my head and I’m pretty sure he knows it but I deliberately refrain from acting really toppy like with trash talk n shit because I figure that would be a boner-killer for him. He agreed that it would be. I think we’re both on the same page here of being willing to give the other person some fantasy fuel as long as they use it responsibly. šŸ˜€

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Freaky trampoline sex

This was a bittersweet thing but I wanted to put it down here for posterity anyway.

When all three of us were at Dandette’s parents’ house (alone, her parents being on vacation), there was an evening where I guess her brain chemistry took a random upswing and things felt okay. We had a bonfire in the back yard that night and roasted marshmallows. We were admiring the night sky (so dark, away from all the city lights. Such stars) and Dandette reminded us that there’s also a full-size trampoline in the yard and said we ought to go lie there and star-gaze.

So we did that (Dandette pulling my head onto the crook of her shoulder and kissing the top of my head – more affection than she’d shown me in weeks, and I was humiliatingly grateful for it, and yet I couldn’t really relax into her affection, knowing how mood-swingy she’s been lately; it felt like a trap).

At one point Dandette said “could you imagine having sex on this thing?” and/or implied that she actually has fucked on the trampoline at some point. My immediate thought was that it would be difficult to fuck on a trampoline because of the bounce – there wouldn’t be enough resistance to thrust against, surely.

Then either Dandette or The Dandy started goofing off and jostling the trampoline – like still lying down, but I guess lifting their feet up and letting them fall so it bounced us all in the air for a second. And I wondered if it would be possible for two people to fuck on the trampoline without thrusting at all, if someone else was bouncing next to them. Like, could the people’s genitals get bounced together by a third party making energy waves?

I was genuinely curious about this, but unwilling to fuck so publicly, plus going into the house to find condoms would be a drag. But Dandette is an exhibitionist with an IUD.

So I said my theory of trampoline sex out loud. Dandette said “If only I were wearing a skirt instead of pants right now.” I pointed out that there’s a curtain around the trampoline so I didn’t think neighbours would be able to see. “No, I’m worried about offending you,” Dandette clarified. I said nah, it’s good, go for it.

So Dandette and The Dandy stripped from the waist down and she mounted him and I sat on my knees next to them (still fully clothed) and started raising my ass up and flumping it back down on my heels to bounce the two of them.

Dandette’s breathing quickened from the feel of The Dandy’s cock inside her and I don’t know why that felt like a needle stabbing me in the heart but it did. Actually, no, I know what it was: it made me wonder if she was the kind of person who gets off from penetration alone. Those chicks, it seems to me, are the holy grail of men everywhere. If Dandette was one of those magical women who gets off during intercourse without needing anything “extra”, I’d feel like I must surely be inferior to her in The Dandy’s eyes.

But I needed to continue the experiment. FOR SCIENCE!

I kept bouncing. I put one hand lightly on Dandette’s back, kind of to brace myself but also to try to make the sex more into something all of us were doing, not just them with me there as some kind of functionary. Dandette did not acknowledge my touch or really even my presence in any way, and neither did The Dandy.Ā  The two of them were looking into each others’ eyes, or at least zoning out with their faces pointed toward each other. One of The Dandy’s hands was lying near me on the surface of the trampoline and I wanted to reach out and clasp it in my own but since they were both absorbed in each other I felt like I’d be cutting in on their personal moment. I didn’t want to look needy; I wanted to be generous, to show them that I support them being together.

And then The Dandy came. Dandette did not, or if she did she was pretty much silent.

Dandette dismounted and sucked The Dandy’s cock clean. They both put their pants back on. Dandette said “Well. Thanks for rocking my world, you guys” and then went inside to pee. I lay down next to The Dandy, who promptly put his arm under me and gathered me up against him.

“So hey,” I said. “I know I’m being totally ridiculous, but humour me: you still want me, right? We’ll still have sex?”

The Dandy assured me that we would.

I expressed a bunch of insecurities and jealousies to him – that I’m afraid I’ll seem boring to him compared to the chick who’ll fuck in public and doesn’t need condoms, that I’m so fucking jealous that she gets to bareback him and I can’t that it’s pretty much killing me. He listened patiently, petting my arm. He said I’m not boring to him. He said the thought of getting a vasectomy makes him squeamish because cutting and clamps.

We went inside and I decided to avail myself of the house’s Jacuzzi, right away before anyone else could get dibs and use up all the hot water. I’d just watched my boyfriend come inside another woman; I deserve the goddamned hot water. While I was in there I managed to use one of the jets to get myself off – not because watching the sex had turned me on (it hadn’t) but as a kind of consolation prize because I didn’t get any sex. It was difficult to come because images of them fucking kept popping into my head and ruining my buzz. I persevered and eventually succeeded.

That night I requested The Dandy’s presence in the bedroom I was using (for the past two nights he’d slept next to Dandette). Neither of them had a problem with this. Being snuggled to sleep helped me to feel better.

But y’know, on top of all the predictable garden-variety insecurity stuff, I’m also flat-out jealous because I wanna know what it would feel like to have bouncy trampoline sex! I love being on top of The Dandy during PIV, but my thighs start to hurt really quickly. Being bounced on his dick by a third party sounds like it would be easy and hilarious and feel delightful. But I’m not willing to fuck him in front of Dandette, and with her ever-changing moods I’d be too scared to ask her even if I wanted to, so it’s not a thing I’ll get to experience. Even though it was my idea in the first place.

Humph. šŸ˜¦


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I’m a kitty and The Dandy is perceptive.

I have The Dandy to myself for a couple of days while Dandette remains at her parents’ place. Last night I talked to him some more about Dandette and the situation with her being off her meds and everything. Looks like her anxiety made her too scared to call the doctor for an appointment to get a new prescription and she was too embarrassed to tell us. An appointment has been made for when she gets back, though.

One thing that’s been plaguing me in all this is that I haven’t known Dandette all that long so from my point of view, she was awesome when I first moved in and that lasted for about a month and then she was moody and terrible for about a month and that brings us up to now. So like…what’s even real? Did she love me in the beginning, as she claimed, and then her mental health went downhill and fucked things up but those initial feelings will come back? Or was she faking the love in order to make The Dandy happy and ensure her continued spot in our household, but once I’d settled in, she didn’t bother keeping up the charade anymore? Like, how do I even know if she was faking the affection she claimed to feel for me?

“You can’t know,” The Dandy said.

I rolled my eyes, buried my head in the crook of his neck, and said “Good pep talk; thanks.”

“Well, okay, so what would you need from her in order to feel like she genuinely loves you?” he asked. Wow, lookit him with the hard-hitting questions! Gettin’ right to the heart of the issue.

I thought about it and finally said “Well, my love languages are touch and acts of service – especially someone feeding me – so if Dandette would bring back all the hugs and home-cooked meals, I would feel loved and therefore love her in return. Because apparently I am a kitty. Except I realize that’s not even logical, it’s not a valid way to measure if she really does love me, it’s just me getting the right buttons pressed. Honestly, I think a person could give me some food and hug me while saying ‘I don’t even like you very much’ and I’d still feel loved. Like, the person’s headspace doesn’t even matter, as long as they’re doing the things.”

The Dandy laughed and said “You really are a cat!” and here he imitated the thing we both do of saying mean things to the cats in a sweet voice, and they way they respond to the tone and not the content: “”You’re so fat and dumb. Oh yes you are. Yes you are.’ ‘Purr purr purr!'” I hadn’t made that connection before but it’s apt and it’s hilarious.

But we kept on discussing shit and it turns out Dandette has withdrawn her affection pretty hard from The Dandy, too, which I totally didn’t notice*. He’s less intimidated by her mood swings than I am, so he doesn’t go out of his way to avoid her like I do; thus they have more contact than she and I have. But it’s not good contact, as I’d been assuming; she’s just as prickly and unpredictable with him as with me. Which is sad, obviously, but also comforting. The Dandy says he’s really very sure that the issues we’re having are entirely to do with her being unmedicated, and that things will get back on track after she’s seen the doctor. Yay.


*I’m still a bit weird and jealous over this whole sharing thing and it’s tempting to watch them like a hawk and make some kind of scorecard of what he gives her vs what he gives me, but THAT WOULD BE CRAZYPANTS, so I’ve gone in the other direction instead and willfully ignored/glossed over their moments of affection, if any).

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