Sapiosexy!

The Dandy, if I haven’t mentioned it before, is wicked smart and knows things about a broad range of topics. I find this ludicrously hot. Especially because he doesn’t lecture or act condescending or anything – he never thinks it’s stupid that I don’t know a thing. He’s just jazzed about sharing the stuff he knows, and he explains it in a way I can understand.

One time, after I’d begun to realize just how smart he is, I told The Dandy how a lot of people don’t get my sense of humour, and how I said probably the wittiest thing I’ll ever say one time and nobody picked up on it and when I tried to brag about the witty remark to other people later on, they didn’t get it, either. The Dandy asked me what the witty thing was. I told him I’d been on a roll of making terrible eyeball puns and I capped it off by saying “Heh heh, just a little vitreous humour there, folks.” The Dandy laughed and said “the liquid inside people’s eyes!” and yup, that’s what vitreous humour is. He got it. He’s the only one who ever got it out of like ten people I told it to. 😀

It appears that I hold some intelligence Easter eggs for him, too. One time – a propos of nothing, I think, just making conversation – The Dandy told me that there’s a thing that can happen where twins get mashed into a single person in the womb. Not conjoined twins but one person, and that person will have different DNA in different parts of their body. I nodded and said “chimerism” and he seemed delighted that I knew that word.

I’m glad that I can hold my own with him at least a little on the intellectual front.

Related: the situation with my neighbours is getting ridiculous and it feels like they’re eavesdropping on me all the time just waiting for me to do something they can bitch about. As such, I recently told The Dandy that I’d really like to get a good pounding where I don’t have to worry about being quiet, so if he had a time he could host, please let me know. He volunteered a time when he was free and Dandette would be away. Perfect. Anyway, we both enjoy horrible puns so I texted him referring to this plan as “doing a little astronomy” because he’ll be studying my heavenly body and there may well be a big bang. He said “isn’t the big bang cosmology? It’ll be a night of interdisciplinary studies.” I said I’d be thoroughly “Galilei’d” and added that I very much enjoy “a night of interdisciplinary studies” as a euphemism for sex. In fact I think I’ll use it in future. Maybe it will become a “thing” for us.

 

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…but on a catty note…

I always found The Pedant just extraordinarily hot, which is why I put up with the amount of shit from him that I did. He was a vaguely dangerous-looking goth boy of the sort that I’ve always lusted after but who rarely – if ever – wanted me back, usually because I am neither goth nor dangerous-looking. But The Pedant did want me. He was a sinewy, wolfishly gorgeous, high-cheekboned man with long hair and amazing outfits, and I got to peel those outfits off him and fuck the shit out of him and it never stopped feeling validating.

But in the past year or two he’s started going seriously bald – his hairline was receding when I met him but now it’s receded even more and the whole top of his hair has thinned way out to where I can see the ghost of male-pattern baldness underneath (and dude has a huge noggin – he used to get his turtlenecks custom made because a storebought one the right size for his body wouldn’t go over his gigantic melon head – so his very receded hairline leaves nothing to break up the vast, domed expanse of his forehead). And he’s gained weight. Once upon a time he used to be heavier, but it was distributed all over so he just looked pleasingly solid. Then he lost weight for a while and his body was all slender and tight. Now he’s still thin all over except for a bulbous little middle-aged paunch that strains the bottom few buttons on his shirts. I don’t even mind a guy having a belly – The Dandy has quite a lot of extra weight on him and so did The Bunny – but The Pedant carries his weight in a very “suburban middle-management dude who’s given up on life” kind of way, and what originally attracted me to him was that he looked like the antithesis of all of that. He was otherworldly. Now he’s just some paunchy security guard.

If he had still been making me happy, his changed appearance barely would have registered with me. But he’d stopped doing all the things I liked several months before we broke up, and he was no longer the pretty shiny thing I’d once fetishized, so it’s just as well he dropped the hammer. It frees me from a whole huge dilemma I would inevitably have had, wanting to preserve the relationship because we had all that history together and he was almost what I wanted, but at the same time not feeling happy with him or even attracted to him anymore.

It also gives me a warm glow of schadenfreude to imagine that perhaps other women will be put off by his prematurely middle-aged appearance, too, and he won’t have as much luck getting laid as he used to. I want to be the last woman ever to dote on him and call him beautiful. And I want him to be painfully aware of this and to realize that he fucked up by letting me go.

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Then again…

I also get the feeling that The Pedant was afraid of commitment. Probably he sees relationships as a series of obligations (which they kind of are, but ideally there’s also so much good that it balances out).

We had a while – last summer or something – where he was being really great at giving me what I needed and I was just feeling absolutely over the moon for him as a result. I was so bursting with love for him that I wrote him mushy letters and painted him a wee piece of art that was heart-themed. And I think it was pretty soon after that that things started falling to shit – that the sweet things he used to do started falling by the wayside. It was either shortly after my big obvious gestures of love or shortly after I wrote him the manual outlining the stuff he did that I liked and telling him that as long as he did those things, I’d be happy with him.

And then during the whole argument over the fucking keys and me wanting him to try to be on time and whatnot, I clearly expressed to him that I was in the relationship for the long haul so I was willing to wait a few years for him to get his lateness problem in order. I just wanted him to start working on it a little bit at a time, was all.

So part of me thinks he began to feel distant and then left because I loved him and made it clear I wanted things to go long term (like, officially, not just a “hey let’s hang out and have sex” arrangement that just kinda doesn’t stop) and it freaked him out.

Which, good riddance I guess. I want a relationship at this point in my life, not an elaborately nonchalant ongoing fuckbuddy thing. Still though. The Pedant loved me; he didn’t run away when I told him I loved him; he told me he thought of me as his primary partner; he stuck around for five years; when we had issues he tried (except at the very end) to solve them and get us back on track. He clearly wanted a relationship with me, so it’s just so stupid that me being open that it was a relationship scared him away.

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Mourning person

Now that The Pedant and I have been split up a while and I’ve been processing everything, I’m able to articulate the thing that pisses me off about our breakup.

For our entire relationship, I knew on some level that he is essentially really, really selfish and that this was his motivation for just about everything he ever did. Our weekends of sex and sushi were awesome – I couldn’t help experiencing the sex and food as acts of love – but I suspected that really, he wasn’t thinking “I want to spend time with Cowgirl and make her happy through food and naked touching.” He was thinking “I like hanging out with Cowgirl. She sexes me really well. So I think I’ll go over there this weekend. Also I’m craving sushi so I’ll take her with me.” There’s still affection for me in there, mind you. I do believe he loved me. Just…in a weirdly self-centred way. We didn’t share our lives; he lived his life and let me tag along.

There have been many times that he’d told me that his work schedule was too hectic for him to able to see me for a while, but then I gleaned from Facebook that he’d gone to a concert (never the exact same day that I’d asked him over, so it could’ve been worse. But during a general time period where he claimed he would be too drained to socialize). There have been many times that his coming over was conditional, in some way, on a concert or clubbing event he wanted to attend – “I’m gonna see if this concert has any tickets still available at the door and if they don’t, I’ll come over” “there’s a thing I wanna go to in your neighbourhood tonight. I can come over after if you’d like.” It’s not like I expect a partner to make grueling sacrifices for me all the time but I mean…I don’t want to feel like a convenience or a backup plan! I want someone to want to see me, and to want this enough that they’ll happily make plans to come over just for that reason. Not because they’re in the neighbourhood or because there’s nothing else to do.

As I said, my time with The Pedant was usually filled with satisfying things and left me feeling happy and loved. But I was very, very careful never to ask him to go out of his way for me because subconsciously I knew that my internal framing of our relationship was probably inaccurate and I didn’t want my illusions shattered by asking for something and being rejected. The night my friendship with The Veteran imploded and I was afraid she would stalk me, I didn’t ask The Pedant (who knows legal stuff, is a trained security guard, and is generally unafraid of anything) to come over and keep me safe because I had a dreadful feeling that he would just be like “Nah, by the time I got there it would be late and I have to work in the morning.”

So there was this precarious balance where I could be happy in the relationship if I convinced myself that the things he did were for me and not just selfish – but in order to maintain that happiness I had to keep my expectations minimal and kind of shrink myself down so I didn’t take up too much room. If I asked too much of him I would eventually (or immediately, as it turns out) cross a line and then it would be pretty obvious just how little he was willing to do for me if it didn’t happen to coincide with what he wanted anyway.

But sometimes my anxiety makes me paranoid and skews my perceptions of things. And our relationship had been chugging along for around five years, and the few times that I told him there was something making me unhappy, he encouraged me to tell him the issue and he made changes. And in fact shortly before the breakup I told him I wasn’t happy and he paid so much lip service to the idea that we would totally sit down and talk it out, don’t worry, we’d fix things. And despite having told me before that he can’t stand dealing with anxiety in people, there were a few times that I texted him that I wasn’t doing so well brain-wise and he called me and talked me down. I hadn’t asked him to call me; he just did.* So I started thinking that maybe I hadn’t put enough faith in him; clearly my happiness was important to him and he wanted the relationship to run smoothly, right?

So I had the wacky, wacky hubris to ask him to use my spare keys I’d given him** to let himself in when he’s late, and to maybe try to sometime in the future not be hours late for every fucking plan we ever made. This was the first real change or sacrifice I’d ever asked of him. After five years with him I finally had the confidence to do that.

And he broke up with me over it. Getting keys cut and showing up on time was apparently too much for me to ask of him.

And I’m so fucking pissed off.

 

*But I realize in hindsight – almost exclusively during his commute home from work. And when he reached his front door he would sign off. So he was up for helping me with stuff, as long as there was almost nothing else he could be doing but staring off into space.

**Or to get new ones cut, since the keys he had were pink and he was embarrassed to have them on his keyring, which is how he always ended up forgetting them at home on days he was meant to come over. Whatever. The point is he was hours late all the time and I wanted to be able to go places and live my life during those times instead of sitting by the phone waiting for the “I’m here” text.

 

 

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A Lovely Valentine’s Day

I thought The Dandy and I had done our V-day thing early when he took me to dinner over the weekend, but he offered to come by on the actual day, as well. And he brought some groceries that he made us dinner out of, and mentioned that he might either buy me some new pots and pans or buy himself some and give me the old ones, because mine kinda suck and if he’s gonna be cooking for me here a lot…

While we ate, we watched Closer (one of my favourite movies). The Dandy is into nerdy-type movies but hasn’t seen much of anything else at all, which can be frustrating when I make pop culture references but is awesome in that I get to introduce him to all my favourite things!

And then we had all the sex. Like…all the sex. The Dandy’s style is still kind of foreign to me but I think it’s growing on me. I’m accustomed to initiating sex by doing stuff to a guy’s erogenous zones, but The Dandy claims not to have any aside from his lips and his dick. But kissing him is something I might do any time just recreationally so there’s no way to differentiate between “I am angling for sex” and “I like you and enjoy being close to you. Oh hey, let’s see what’s on tv!” I could escalate by grabbing his dick, but I want more buildup than that. For my sake, not his. So on V-day when the movie ended and we were just snuggling, I stripped to the waist so he could pet more of my skin (which he did, and which had me purring and writhing around) and right about at that point he realized we were going to fuck.

So apparently if I want sex that has a bit of a buildup to it, I get it by presenting my body for him to touch rather than touching his and being turned on by turning him on. Or I could just tell him I wanna have sex but to pet me a while first. But I don’t always feel like doing that, especially since he identifies as dominant and I sometimes worry that telling him what to do will be kind of a boner killer (although we talked about that and he says that nothing I’ve said or done has put him off yet).

Historically, I have not enjoyed a man with great stamina in the PIV arena. My vag gets sore and chafed really quickly and I don’t come from PIV so meh. But then with The Bunny I discovered the joys of the Missionary Hitachi Sandwich and that was somewhat of a game changer – if I’m actually trying to get off during PIV, I do ideally want someone who can fuck me right through my orgasm. Also, The Dandy’s penis feels really good to me. Better than other people’s, I think. Something about the shape or the way he moves or I dunno. Even before I brought the Hitachi into the mix his thrusts were giving me the occasional little clitoral twinge or vag flutter. And then we did the Hitachi sandwich and he pounded me absolutely tirelessly and with perfect rhythm and I came my brains out without worrying even the tiniest bit that he would stop before I was good and done. Because that’s the other thing about The Dandy – even when he’s come he can often stay hard and keep going!

Eventually I was exhausted and my legs were killing me so I had him withdraw. He’d made some flurries of breathing sounds a few different times during teh sex0rs, but the sounds – and the amount of liquid in the condom as he withdrew and sat on his haunches between my knees – were sort of inconclusive to me and he was still perfectly hard so I sat up, stripped the condom off him, and started stroking him. Within a minute or so he had a definite and resounding orgasm, pouring out about a gallon of semen over my wrist.

We then lay down and snuggled. I had come so hard that I wanted to kill him (this is a thing that happens. I don’t know.) and he gazed into my eyes and recognized the violence there and just kind of acknowledged it with a smile, knowing it meant he’d done well and that I would never actually hurt him unless asked. The fact that he can sense my feelings and isn’t scared by them is lovely. I’ve never really had that before. Minx felt my violence and cowered, and The Pedant is tone-deaf to people’s vibes entirely.

“So uh…was that more than one orgasm, on your end? Or am I just not good at reading your signals?” I asked.

“I had a few little ones, just not enough that I had to stop,” The Dandy said. His sexuality is so fucking intriguing to me. And as much as the really long PIV sessions are a bit of a mixed blessing for me, I do love his high capacity for orgasms. Making a guy come is one of my favourite things and for some reason I’ve more often than not been cursed with partners who have long refractory periods. When a guy can only come once a day, it often becomes a big dilemma for me. How will I spend that one orgasm? I crave using his dick for my own pleasure via PIV but I also want to focus on his pleasure, perhaps via a hand job, and I can’t do both and arrrrrgh what do I pick? With The Dandy I may not face these sorts of problems. He has said that it’s possible to just keep stimulating him after he’s come and he’ll come several more times, albeit with longer and longer buildups in between. I told him one of these days I’m gonna give him a hand job and just…not stop. Like, ever. Unless he either begs me or completely runs out of ejaculate. I wanna see what happens.

Oh and by the way, the first time The Dandy and I hooked up, I started stroking him but then he took over. The second time, I did get him all the way there; it took ten minutes and (as last time) his climax-noises were almost nothing, just a few deep breaths. He told me that I was the first person ever to be able to get him off via hand, which is surprising. He’s got a smallish partner count for someone in their 40s (in my opinion) (he says he’s not sure of the exact number but probably in the low double digits) but that’s still probably a dozen women who could have tried and failed. And he’s had a couple of long term relationships so in theory there could have been years of attempts by some partners. And I’m the one to finally get him there?

Now I’m able to make him come with my hand faster than before and his orgasms (from handjobs and whatever else we do that gives him orgasms) are still subtle but definitely less inhibited (and seem like they’re longer and more intense). Much heavier breathing that goes on longer and has perhaps half a moan mixed in. And actual bucking and writhing, too, instead of just lying there completely passively. The Dandy has mentioned, in passing, that his past two long-term relationships were sort of…fraught, sexually. Dandette asked to be topped/dominated and then would scream at him that he was doing it wrong. His ex wife before that did…something shitty when it came to sex, I can’t recall what. Anyway I would imagine The Dandy ended up with a fear of being vulnerable in bed but maybe he’s getting past that with me. I love thinking that. 😀

Anyway. After the PIV and the handjob I was turned on again and got myself off while The Dandy cuddled up to me and petted me. After a while I got up to pee and brush my teeth and The Dandy said he should start keeping a toothbrush here. I had a few still-in-original-package spares in the medicine cabinet so I assigned him one of those. Oh, also I have a red mug that he drank out of a few visits ago and (since I don’t do dishes terribly often and it’s only water in the cup) he’s been leaving it on my bookcase and drinking out of it each visit when he takes his blood pressure pills from the stash he keeps here.

I like how comfortably our lives are beginning to mesh. It’s a lot quicker than in previous relationships, but I kinda need that right now. I’m tired of ambiguity.  And really, all of these little adjustments are just practical considering we see each other on a regular basis. It’s not like we’re eloping or something, we’re just making it so he’s comfortable here since he comes over at least once a week.

In other news, in The Dandy’s ongoing quest to be the most stylish motherfucker on the planet he’s purchased a seven thousand dollar custom suit. The tailor just finished it. The Dandy told me the other day that unfortunately the first time he wears this suit may well be to a funeral because a family friend is dying of cancer. Today I suggested that if he wants to debut the suit in a non-funeral capacity, we could have a dress-up date. I have an expensive (for me) retro-style dress that I’ve never had occasion to wear and I thought perhaps he could take me to sushi and we could be all classy-like. He loved that idea, so that’s probably happening sometime later this week. I’m glad that I can maybe help imbue the suit with happy vibes and let him associate it first and foremost with something nice (if things work that way for him. I admit I may be projecting).

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Mini-rant

Mine seems to have vanished for the time being, as he sometimes does.

I don’t understand him. He tells me he loves me. He’s sweet to me when he’s here. When he’s going through a crisis of any kind he always talks as though his very first instinct is to come to me for comfort, saying that all he wants in the world is to be next to me, lying in my arms. He gives every indication that he cares about me…except he’ll sometimes go for a week or more without talking to me and I simply can’t do that when I’m into someone. I’ll miss them. I’ll want to talk to them. And no matter how busy or burned out I am, it’s never not possible for me to send a text message saying “I’m thinking of you” or “I miss you.” It takes seconds to do that.

This, in a nutshell, is why I don’t think of Mine as my sub or my boyfriend, even though I love him and enjoy spending time with him and am generally glad he’s in my life. There’s an element of inconsistency to him that makes me…”distrust him” isn’t quite it, because I don’t think he’s lying to me about anything. I don’t feel I can rely on him, I guess is what it is.

I texted him the other day asking a favour (nothing time sensitive, but still) and he hasn’t responded at all and it just bugs me. I’ve also talked to him about helping me move when the time finally comes and he said he will, but to be honest I think I’ll be looking to The Dandy or possibly my friend Dom to help me with anything that has a strict deadline. I’ll be paying for overlap between apartments so I won’t have to do all my moving in one day; I plan to go piecemeal. If I can manage to get Mine to haul his ass over here during that time, he can take a few carloads of my things for me. But when it’s getting down to the wire and I need the rest of it out by Tuesday or whatever, Mine is not the person I’ll be contacting. He seems capable of saying yes and then bowing out at the last minute because he has to work, or being two hours late and not letting me know.

Having more than one concurrent boyfriend (i.e., man that I love and see regularly and who agrees that we are in a committed relationship) has been my dream since I was a teenager but alas, I am not there yet.

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Moar Dandy stuff

The Dandy and I talk a lot about past relationships and I can’t tell if it’s because we’re both middle-aged (thus thoroughly at the stage of abandoning all dating pretense and straight-up saying “here’s my baggage and here’s what I need in a partner, you up for it or not?”) or if we’re both maybe not quite over all that previous stuff.

I definitely try to hold back on that kind of talk when I’m with a young’un because they’re usually so fresh and optimistic and inexperienced that they don’t really talk about past experiences, they just wanna throw themselves into this awesome new one. So stuff doesn’t really come up and it would feel gauche to wedge it into the conversation. With guys my own age (in my very limited experience) it does come up a bit more; the mutual sussing-out of compatibility is a lot more blatant. But I still haven’t usually talked about my history as much as I do with The Dandy. Not this early in the game, anyway. We name names, even. He knows the names of the exes who have affected me most. I know the names of his. I have never been on that sort of basis with anyone until months into a relationship. I like it. But I still worry that it might be unhealthy, because worrying is what I do.

The Dandy is usually absolutely silent when I tell him things (like explain about how my mental issues affect my life or tell him I’m anxious about something or mention other partners I have) and it unnerves the shit out of me. My ex-husband was usually silent when I had anxiety freakouts and I’m 99% sure it’s because he had no idea what to do and was panicking. So he’d listen and maybe be sad that I was suffering but feel helpless to stop it and he’d go get shitfaced with his friends in order to drown out his icky helpless feelings. I think with The Dandy he’s just trying to be non-judgmental and let me vent? But I’m not sure, so I’m kinda waiting for the other shoe to drop.

Like, yesterday I gave notice at my part-time gallery job because I realized I just don’t have the right kind of brain to handle the level of multitasking and human interaction required. During my quitting talk, my boss said she was relieved to understand that’s what was going on – that she’d been frustrated, wondering why I wasn’t doing certain aspects of the job (“Does she just not like doing those things so she doesn’t do them?”). I had told The Dandy ahead of time that I was planning on quitting and he asked if I would need him to come over after work for emotional support*. I ended up summoning him, and cried in his car after work. I told him how the big quitting talk had triggered some baggage for me because it’s not the first time people have attributed the symptoms of my brain problems/health problems to some kind of moral failing. I told him how when I was a kid my parents had all these earnest talks with me about why I wasn’t cleaning my room when asked. Why oh why was I so lazy and/or disobedient? I even asked myself that. I didn’t feel like I wanted to disobey my parents; I wasn’t a rebellious kind of kid. So I figured I must just be a lazy shithead. Except actually I had undiagnosed celiac disease and was basically suffering from malnutrition and felt sickly all the time and that would be why I had a hard time doing things like cleaning. I told The Dandy all of this and he just kind of absorbed it in absolute silence. I’m really pretty sure the two of us just have different communication styles but my knee-jerk reaction is that if he agreed with me that my parents/boss/etc were being assholes and that I am not in fact bad or lazy, he would say so. And he’s not saying so, so…

But he’s still going out with me so it’s probably fine.

Still, though, I prefer a more active sort of support so I should probably mention that. I still find myself having boundary issues (a problem that plagued me with Minx and The Pedant as well)…it just feels like it would come off so controlling and petty to be like “You’re not even saying anything! Tell me I’m not a bad person and stuff!” (even if I say it nicer than that). But I do want that, and maybe if I asked for it he’d do it. I tend to go straight to assuming that a thing I don’t like about a guy is part of his core personality and I’d therefore be an asshole to try to change him.I mean…I really like The Dandy. But I’m not in love with him. So maybe he’s the ideal practice ground for throwing caution to the wind and just (tactfully) telling him what I want from him instead of always talking myself out of it and trying to adjust my reactions, instead. And hey, if he adjusts his behaviour and starts doing the things I want, he’ll have become a better partner to me and this actually might make me fall for him.

People are funny. The Dandy is a better partner than The Pedant in almost every way. Not just better for me; I mean universally better. Better communicator, better life prospects in general, better conversationalist, better at paying attention to what his partner enjoys and doing those things. The Pedant is weird and selfish and claims to suck at reading people…but he was preternaturally good at dealing with my anxiety. I never even had to explain what I needed from him, that I recall; he was able to see what needed to be done and do it. If I’d ranted to him about people calling me lazy, he would have said they were stupid and that I’m obviously not lazy because [examples]. When I had anxiety freakouts he wouldn’t just nod sympathetically; he’d be able to see exactly how my thinking was fucked up, break it down for me, and – if I was freaking out about a task I needed to complete – he’d break that down for me and give me a small first step to focus on so I wouldn’t keep angsting about the “big picture” and feeling overwhelmed. And I miss that, especially when I’m telling The Dandy how I’m freaking out about a thing and I kind of pause and wait for instruction but he just looks at me and nods. ARRRRGH.

The Pedant never contacts me anymore, btw. Perhaps when he said we’d remain friends he was just paying lip service. I’ve thought about calling upon him for support when I’m anxious, but if he doesn’t come through for me I’ll be crushed and if he does it’ll probably inflame my ardor again so it’s tricky. If only I could magically transfer his considerable skill with my mental issues directly into The Dandy’s brain…

 

*That’s the second time he saw I was maybe not doing well emotionally and offered to come be there for me without me having to ask. I love that so much. Like…so much. With The Pedant I didn’t ask for his company when I thought The Veteran was stalking me and might show up at my apartment because I was positive he’d say no.

 

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