Apartment hunting

Yesterday I finally sat down and really hardcore looked for places to live. (Well, first I stood up and looked, by walking around my preferred neighbourhood. But it was really cold outside and I realized I could just as easily scope places out online anyway.)

I compiled a big list of available places, within my budget, in areas I want to live in. Some of the building websites even posted floor plans so I could see how big the prospective place might be. I’ve mostly resigned myself to having to downgrade to a bachelor apartment, but damn, most of the floor plans I saw showed a bigger living space than I have now. Or if not bigger overall, at least the main space was quite a bit larger than my current living room, which is where I spend the vast majority of my time, anyway. I don’t think I’d feel too pinched, living in a place twice the size of my living room that also has more closets than I have now.

But then I remembered that bedbugregistry.com exists and I started looking up all the buildings on my list that I had actual addresses for. And almost every single one had a huuuuuge list of reports and a lot of the time people mentioned cockroaches and mice, too. Sounds like most buildings, if someone gets bedbugs or roaches, they’ll only spray the affected unit, not the whole building*. And all this does is drive the pests into surrounding units until the poison wears off and then they come right on back.

I’m freaking out. It feels like nowhere is safe (except here. The guy across the hall got bedbugs a few years back and the landlords got the whole place sprayed immediately, and a second spray the next week to follow up. No bedbugs ever made it into my place and there have been no incidents since).

I hate living here because the neighbours make me miserable. I don’t want to live in another converted house because they’re never soundproof and usually the layout is weird and there aren’t enough closets. I was liking the idea of a high rise because the apartments would actually be designed as apartments, with closets and a nice layout and good soundproofing. But having that many people living in one place also means a way higher potential of someone bringing in some critters.

And technically even if the bedbug registry doesn’t have any reports on a place it may just be a coincidence. Not everyone knows the site exists.

My anxiety is going nuts and I don’t know what to do. 😦

 

*Okay I can see how they wouldn’t want to have to spray 500 apartments every time one person has a vermin problem but shit, how about at least doing the affected unit and all the adjoining ones?

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Sexual musings re: The Dandy

When The Dandy was here yesterday it came up that he really has no erogenous zones except his mouth and his penis: kiss him and touch his dick and he’s good to start fuckin’. I’d already tentatively come to that conclusion myself, but now he’s actually said it to me. I do wonder if that’s really true or if (like so many guys) he just kinda never learned to listen to his body. Later on when we were watching DVDs I was caressing his back and noticed it gave him goosebumps.

I’m not gonna insist that The Dandy must be wrong about his own body, but I’m not totally closing the door on giving him foreplay that’s not kissing or blowjobs, either. I feel there might be some room to expand his horizons.

The Dandy, incidentally, is a Taurus, astrologically speaking. When I’m seeing someone I’ll often look up how their sign and mine tend to get along together, just for fun. The Pedant is also a Taurus so I already know this one. Aries (that’s me) is fiery and creative in bed but often tends to cut to the chase (accurate) while Taurus is very meat-and-potatoes utilitarian in bed, though sensual and slow. Sometimes, Taurus ends up teaching Aries the value of slowing down and savouring sex more, which can be a great thing. Other times, Aries gets bored with Taurus’ lack of inventiveness. TBH the Taurus part sounds bang-on for The Dandy and I do wonder if he’ll start to bore me a bit, especially once I manage to get out of my current malaise and my kinky side comes roaring back.

We had some great sex yesterday, though. Something about the size and shape of his penis feels really good and turns me on more than PIV with other people usually has, so after a few minutes of riding him I reached over, got my Hitachi Magic Wand, and tried to sit up and get myself off while still movin’ around on The Dandy’s cock. I haven’t been able to get off sitting up in years though so this rather predictably didn’t work. After a few minutes I gave up and tried my luck with jackknifing my body so my torso was on his, sandwiching the Hitachi between us and kinda humping it (and by extension him). It makes me self-conscious, doing that. The way I need to wriggle around to get off in that position feels like it looks stupid and I keep expecting my partner to make a snarky remark. Plus the way I need to move is more grindy than thrusty and a lot of guys (including The Pedant) don’t get enough stimulation from it to stay hard. But The Dandy stayed hard and didn’t say anything to make me feel weird. Also he thrust back at me and – I’m pretty sure – purposely flexed his cock inside me sometimes so I could feel the twitch. I love that.

I came incredibly hard – so hard that I was suffused with violence and kind of wanted to start throwing punches. Instead I flung the Hitachi aside and kept thrusting, this time in a broad to-and-fro intended to get The Dandy off. He came within a few minutes, and it looked like a good one. From what I can tell he’s one of those people who automatically goes still when he comes and yet if stimulation continues, it makes his orgasm better. So when he began to come he stopped thrusting up at me, but I kept pounding him and drawing out wave after wave of spasms and breathing sounds and sporadic startled chuckles from him. Like it just went on and on. And I was still all feral and violent from my own orgasm, and I snarled in his ear “until nothing but dust comes out, bitch!” and he laughed and his laughter dissolved into more strangled little noises as I pounded him some more.

I have such a bangover today. I’m used to my legs being stiff the day after sex, so nothing new there, but in this particular encounter I had shoved my hands under The Dandy’s back at one point and was sorta crushing him in my arms as I strained toward coming, so my biceps are totally fucked today.

Anyway. Speaking of sexually utilitarian Tauruses, yesterday I asked The Dandy to tell me a sexual fantasy he has – something feasible that maybe I could help bring to fruition. I knew he wasn’t gonna say anything too fancy or contrived (no costumes or role play or fucking machines, for instance) but I still figured there’d be something. My money was on “FMF threesome.” But no, he said that when he jerks off he usually just thinks about having vanilla sex with someone. Well then. 😛

But y’know…in some says, I’m sexually utilitarian, too. Like, sometimes I see women on Fetlife talking about how their partner gives them the most mindblowing orgasms they’ve ever had, and I don’t understand what that means. Often these seem to be fairly experienced women who’ve been having orgasms for years, but their current partner touched them with all this finesse and did a bunch of sneaky, skillful tricks and they ended up having some whole new level of orgasms. And I do not think that’s possible for me. I don’t think I have any mystical other level. What many people seem to see as skill and finesse usually involves touching lightly and changing things up all the time, which to me is adequate to get me aroused but once I’m craving an orgasm I want the same exact simple, repetitive motion to get me there. Don’t switch things up, don’t show off your manual dexterity by doing a fancy little flick of your wrist. Just rub me right here, straight up and down with steady pressure, until I tell you to stop.

I suppose if a guy managed to give me a different kind of orgasm than I’d ever had before, I’d be blown away by his prowess. My orgasms come from external clitoral stimulation, and always have. And I am in my forties. If some dude came along at this point in my life and got me off just by rummaging around inside me, yeah, I’d probably be all “he blew my mind! He took my body to a whole other level!” blah blah blah. But, you guys…I’ve been fingerbanged a lot. Guys have been gentle, guys have been rough, guys have targeted my g-spot very precisely, guys have been more general, guys have gone looking for other, non-g-spot areas that might be of interest. And none of it gave me the same “holy shit, this has potential!!!” feeling that discovering my clit did when I was a kid. Even when I let a guy keep fingering my insides for ten or fifteen straight minutes, it never felt like anything was building up. At worst, it the sensation of fingers inside me hurts and makes me have to pee. At best, it’s a moderately pleasurable feeling that turns me on and makes me crave external clitoral stimulation – and that’s the most it ever is, even after quite a while. So I frankly can’t imagine what the fuck a guy could do up in there that would make me come.

So I’m not looking for a guy to discover my body and bring me to some higher plane, sexually. I don’t really think there’s anything to discover or any higher plane for me to go to. I just want a guy who’s fine with exactly the way I orgasm right now, and can reliably make it happen. That’s it. If he can do that, I consider the sex to have been good.

Oh, another thing that happened when The Dandy was over, as we were making out and kinda gearing up for sex: we were discussing our respective STI testing statuses. We both admitted we hadn’t been tested in a while; by way of reassurance, he pointed out that he’d been in two long-term monogamous relationships in a row, and I mentioned that I’m fairly selective about PIV. Like, that I have ongoing partners who have never been inside me. PIV is never a given, even when I’m on a sexual basis with someone. The Dandy said “I must be really special, then” and I agreed with that. We’d been lying face to face and sporadically kissing, but when I concurred that he is indeed a special case for me, he put his hand on the back of my head and mashed my face against his chest so I couldn’t make eye contact, and kept me clamped in like that for a while. I suspect that what I said had hit him hard emotionally and he didn’t want me to see it. It’s endearing that he (maybe?) was overwhelmed with emotion at the thought of me allowing him privileges I don’t dole out to just anyone, but I hope that he can get to a point where he’ll let me actually see his vulnerability. The Pedant hid his feelings by mashing my face into his chest all the time and I’m about fed up with it now.

This in turn reminds me of another thing The Dandy has in common with The Pedant: at one time or another I’ve asked both of them how many people they’ve slept with, and they told me but didn’t turn the question back on me. I approve of this. I asked them their “magic numbers” because in my experience it’s really hard to predict how many people anyone’s fucked. Hot, outgoing, or good-in-bed people have not necessarily had a whole lot of sex. Socially awkward, weird-looking, or mediocre-in-bed people have not necessarily had very little sex. I’ve been conducting a sort of ongoing, informal poll ever since I figured this out, just to remind myself that the stereotypes don’t hold water. But women’s sexual experience has been used against us so much that “what’s your number?” is a really fraught thing to ask. I would have a hard time believing that a partner was truly just curious and wouldn’t judge my answer. So I’m glad The Pedant and The Dandy opted not to ask.

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I haz a boyfriend. :D

The Dandy just spent the night here. It was very pleasant, and before he left I asked him if it was too soon to ask what title he’d give this…thing we’re doing. He said he would consider me his girlfriend. I said I was amenable to that. And then I found myself tearing up, because for so long I’ve been having these ambiguous interactions with guys (The Pedant, The Bunny, Mine) where we’ve been seeing each other for over a year but I don’t want to call it a relationship, or I do but I’m afraid to ask what they think it is because I’m pretty sure I won’t like the answer. Or I do ask and I don’t like the answer: with The Bunny I was hoping for a title and got him to agree to listing a relationship status for us on Fetlife: we were “lovers.” But, Fetlife structures things weirdly so his profile ended up saying both that we were lovers and (still) that he was single. I thought at first that this was an oversight but when I pointed it out…well, he was evasive, and wouldn’t come out and tell me that he didn’t think of me as a relationship per se and thus still thought of himself as single, but I’m quite sure that’s what was up. Since we broke up he has fallen in love with someone and they are listed as “in an open relationship,” with the “single” part gone. Well then.

The thing about being monogamous is that when you start seeing someone there has to be an “is this officially a relationship” talk because there’s a definitive behavioural change expected if it is: you’ll stop seeing other people. And for that matter if it’s determined that the other person is not up for a relationship, you may want to cut your losses and break up with them so you can search for someone who does want a relationship. Now that I’m poly, none of that applies anymore; we can still see other people regardless of what our relationship is or whether or not we’re in love. And, okay, I’ve fallen into a bad pattern of choosing men who seem kind of aloof and emotionally unavailable, so that I’m afraid The Talk would scare them off or yield an answer I don’t like. And the relationship itself remains functionally the same no matter what we call it, anyway, so I convinced myself that it didn’t matter. But it matters.

I’m sick of feeling like I’ve just fallen into things with guys by default. I want someone who will actively choose me. And The Dandy has. So I’m happy. 😀

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Moar Dandy things

I forgot to mention, last time I saw The Dandy I asked him “So hey, if we assume that the way I am lately – with regards to anxiety and whatnot – is my baseline, and I’m never gonna get any better than this, does that seem like something you can deal with?”

He said yes, with just the right amount of pause. If he’d jumped in too fast with that “yes” it would have felt like he was just sucking up, and if he’d stopped and thought about it a bunch first it would have felt like he saw a lot of red flags and really had to ponder whether they were worth it. But he gave his answer within a normal amount of time.

The way I am lately, incidentally, is…middling. The cognitive behavioural therapy I took recently seems to have opened up a bunch of sadness and baggage and shit that I thought I’d put away, but it’s also helped me to become a bit more functional. All my emotional wounds are really raw right now so I tend to get in fatalistic moods where everything reminds me of various shitty things that have happened to me to make me who I am. Also – as a defensive maneuver because Minx and my ex husband both cited my anxiety and depression as reasons for wanting to leave – I am being almost over the top in presenting myself to The Dandy as fucked up. I want him to have no illusions about what he’s getting into.

So if he’s okay with current, kind of mopey me, that’s a good sign.

Also, it occurred to me that the long hug-ambushes he keeps giving me that I find slightly awkward are exactly what I used to do to The Pendant. I just found The Pedant so incredibly hot, and it felt like it had been so long since someone was so affectionate with me. Perhaps this is how The Dandy feels about me. I’m the first person he’s dated since he and Dandette broke up around two years ago, and if he has a physical “type” I think I fall within it. For my part, I am not as physically attracted to The Dandy as I’d like to be and I’m not as backed up for physical affection as he is so all the hugging just seems kind of extraneous. I’m not actually complaining, though.

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Awkward

A few years back I signed up with a company that does marketing focus groups. It’s a nice source of income. Although they don’t call me much at all and I’ve only ever ended up qualifying for one thing they called me about.

Anyway, heard from them the other day about a group they wanted me for. These groups are always looking for people from specific demographics so the lady had to ask me questions about my life to see if I qualified for one of the remaining slots. She asked me how old I am, if I live alone, if anyone in my immediate family works in promotions or publicity in some capacity (I guess the focus group had to do with that and she was checking for conflicts of interest) and eventually she asked me what I do for a living.

Shit.

I worry that my job as an art model is so “out there” that it wouldn’t count under any of the categories in their system. And I don’t like bringing up my job to people I’m dealing with in any “official” capacity because it’s a naked job, and a job most people don’t really understand, and I don’t feel like having to explain it to people outside my normal sex-positive, body-positive, non-slut-shamey social bubble.

But when I’m put on the spot I’m usually too slow-witted to lie, so I went ahead and said “art model” anyway. And that was the beginning of a very frustrating conversation.

The woman interviewing me clearly did not have English as her first language, and I would imagine people who aren’t involved in the art world at all might not have any idea that art modelling is a thing. But damn, dude, I explained it a bunch of different ways – in simple terms, enunciating carefully – and she just was not getting it at all. It was like:

“And what do you do for a living?”

“…I’m an art model.”

“You…you’re an artist?”

“No, I pose for art classes.”

“So you paint portraits?”

“No, people paint me.”

“…”

“When art students are learning how to draw a human body, I am the person they draw.”

“…”

“I go to art schools and I stand there and the students draw or paint me.”

…Uh…

“I go to art classes and the people there learn how to draw a person by looking at me and drawing me.”

“So…you do what kind of art?”

Sigh.

Finally she went and talked to her supervisor, who apparently told her to just put down “model.” Which is what I should have said in the first place, I suppose. But the word “model” all on its own carries an implication of conventional hotness that I know I don’t live up to so I avoid it. Even telling doctors etc that I’m an art model, I see this fleeting look on their faces sometimes of “Really? You?” – they don’t say it out loud but it’s clear.

Anyway, after all that I didn’t end up being in the income bracket they were looking for so I didn’t get the gig.

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My ex husband has a Pakistani friend who got married to a woman his parents picked out and whom I think he may have spoken on the phone to once or twice but that’s it. When my ex and I got divorced, his friend was still in his arranged marriage. He probably still is, eleven years later And it occurred to me that maybe lust and love and (to an extent) compatibility aren’t really that relevant to having a lasting relationship. Maybe – I thought to myself – the key to a relationship lasting is simply that both people make a conscious decision to stay in it. A decision, of course, bolstered by each party listening to and respecting the other and being willing to compromise so everyone’s needs are met as well as possible.

I mean, I loved my ex-husband and in many ways we were compatible; similar interests and values and senses of humour and all that. But in some ways we weren’t compatible, so I compromised on those things because I wanted the marriage to work. He…did not compromise even the tiniest bit. It would appear that he didn’t care enough about the being with me to do the necessary work. And so instead of meeting him halfway, I metaphorically walked all the way over to his side, trying to ignore my own needs, and finally ended up so drained and miserable that I had to leave.

Lately I have this terrifyingly huge desire to commit to someone. This is distinctly different from the post-Pedant-breakup desperation of a few months ago where every damn thing I did outside my apartment was partially motivated by “maybe there’ll be guys there!” (I’m not proud of temporarily turning into a living Cathy comic strip. But it is a thing that happened.) I don’t want to meet anyone new right now. I’m feeling really cynical right now and sort of hate men in general, actually. But The Dandy slipped into my life during my desperate phase and my defensive walls went up around him, so he’s in my life now. And I find myself very much not in a headspace of enjoying our time together at face value. I’m grooming him as long-term partner material, big time.

I’m not – as mentioned – falling in love with The Dandy per se. One day I feel totally smitten, the next I feel distant. Not sure if we have a lack of chemistry but I’m trying to shoehorn us into a romance anyway, or if things are actually good but my heart is doing that thing where it puts its shields up and prevents me from fully feeling anything until it seems safe enough to do so. But The Dandy is financially stable and emotionally stable and reasonably attractive and he has many personality traits that I enjoy. In other words, he looks good on paper, and so some huge nesting instinct seems to have come over me.

I haven’t actually said “be my boyfriend!” or “hey do you think this might go long term?” or anything like that. I’ve been impulsive about people before and gotten burned, and at any rate my very spotty attraction to him has me a bit worried and not wanting to jump into anything just yet. But I am sussing him out; oh yes. I’m already basically involved in the negotiations I believe two people should have when they’re in a relationship. Mind you, those negotiations are also valuable in a more casual or FWB arrangement. But I’m making them with an eye toward laying groundwork for something long-lasting.

I…don’t love that I’m being like this. My urge to get into something committed and long-term very much feels like a free-floating thing that’s just attaching itself to The Dandy, rather than me hanging out with The Dandy and eventually, organically deciding that I want to officially date him. And I don’t want to declare some big official relationship with him and realize shortly after that oops, nope, I really am not feeling the right chemistry, I was just wanting to fill an empty space in my life but he’s not fulfilling me, time to break up. (Presuming The Dandy would even say yes to a relationship; I shouldn’t assume he would. But honestly I’m fairly sure.) I don’t want to hurt him or string him along.

But anyway, here are some random things I wanted to note about this budding…relationship or whatever.

  • The Dandy knows at least a little about a wide variety of topics and I find this delightful.
  • We get into punning wars, which I also find delightful.
  • He is very physically affectionate, but maybe beyond even my comfortable capacity. I come into the kitchen to keep him company while he cooks and he comes up and gives me a hug. I come out of the bathroom and he intercepts me to give me a hug. Just standing there with me for several full minutes, squeezing me. I do that to say hello but after that it feels sort of weird.
  • I’ve started noticing some annoying verbal tics that he has, like if I accidentally start talking when he was just about to say something, he acknowledges my thing really quickly and dismissively so he can hurry up and get to his. I’m not sure if he’s really listening to me at those times. And the thing he’s had to say was never urgent enough to warrant glossing over me so fast. It’s not like “Oh hey since we’re passing by the store, did you want anything?” where if he’d waited too long, we wouldn’t be near the store anymore – it’s just random anecdotes and stuff. And last night he did that mansplain-y thing of repeating back exactly what I’d just said as though he were teaching me something. Godddddd I hate that!
  • He is a person who mostly listens when I vent instead of offering solutions. That clashes wildly with my personality. I want discussion and solutions. When I talk about a problem I’m having and he just smiles and nods it’s like…what, that’s all? I asked him about this, actually, or rather I observed out loud that he appears to be a listening person rather than a fixing person. He asked if that’s bad. I told him I’m very much in favour of fixing (and do it myself to loved ones who are venting). It’s not clear to me whether his quiet supportive listening thing is natural to him or what he thinks he’s supposed to do. But he knows now that he can suggest stuff if he wants to, at least.
  • When I was stressed out yesterday and texted him telling him all the dumb shit going on in my life that was freaking me out, he told me he could come by after work and give me hugs. And he did. And he took us out for sushi, too!
  • When he’s nice to me I feel like I should thank him with sex and I don’t know where that’s coming from. I don’t think he’s pressuring me, even subtly. I guess I feel like sex (and snuggles) are the only thing I have to offer him. He’s smarter than me, more socially competent than me, neurotypical, makes far more money than me, I’m in a weird headspace lately anxiety-wise and it’s making me kind of whiny and self-absorbed so I worry that I don’t even seem totally present sometimes when we’re hanging out…why would he stick around if not for orgasms?
  • I asked him last night to tell me some things he likes about me and his answers were…interesting. I thought/hoped/assumed he would mention the things I think are my strengths: my intelligence, my sense of humour, my self-awareness. Instead he talked about less tangible, more emotional things, all along the line of feeling he can trust me, feeling safe with me, feeling like he doesn’t have to put up a facade of any kind with me. And TBH my (silent) initial knee-jerk reaction to this (and it seems ridiculous in retrospect) was disappointment; I felt like he didn’t appreciate my good points, and also I guess the stuff he mentioned felt sort of generic. Anybody can be trustworthy – you just consistently don’t fuck someone over. Making gross-out jokes is a talent. But if my trustworthiness is what makes a big impression on him, clearly he does see that quality as kind of rare. And I do adore that he feels safe with me. That is…a tingle-making statement for me. I guess I think a lot about why a person chooses a specific partner over anyone else, and I have a lot of baggage around thinking that my mental issues are a liability that I need to balance by having huge, uh…assets. I know on an intellectual level that people aren’t quantifiable like that – that if you’re in love with one person who likes science fiction and cats and brownies but has anger issues and hates your favourite band, you won’t fall in love with everyone who has those qualities. And you also won’t automatically fall in love even harder with someone who likes sci fi and cats and brownies and is happy-go-lucky and loves your favourite band. The whole of a person is greater than the sum of their parts; falling in love has a quality of alchemy to it that I’m not sure is entirely logical. But still I obsessively wonder what it is that makes someone want me in particular when I feel like I don’t have many outstanding good qualities to set me apart.
  • I mentioned once to The Dandy that nebulous plans and lateness without warning drive me mad and I like to be kept in the loop, and he seemed to take note. And yet the next time we saw each other, he said he’d be here for 6:30 and by 6:45 I’d heard nothing from him at all. No “Leaving now, will be there as soon as I can.” No “Sorry, running a bit late, see you by 7pm-ish.” Nothing. I had no idea if he’d even left the house yet. And all my baggage and rage began to flood back. I could have texted him prompting for an update or ETA but I’m fucking sick of having to do that with people, and I don’t think it really teaches them to do better next time; it just teaches them that they can keep on being passive and late and uncommunicative and when I get sick of it I’ll prompt them. Instead I texted saying “I’ll be turning my phone off at 7.” My doorbell doesn’t work so turning off my phone means if he arrived after 7 (which is half an hour after he said he’d get here, so I don’t feel I’m being unreasonable) without having updated me, he wouldn’t be able to get in. He’d have to turn right around and go home. Pretty shortly after that he texted back that he was at my door. I’ve seen him twice since then and both times he texted me to let me know when he was leaving. Hooray.
  • He’s really into fashion and has an interesting, distinctive sense of style. I dig that. A lot. He’s got money to spend on his fashion endeavors, too. The other night I got to see the new pajamas he told me he’d bought: navy blue with a kind of Victorian wallpaper pattern woven in. I asked where he got them and he said he’d ordered them from England. I chuckled in spite of myself and said “of course you did.” Every piece of clothing he owns seems to either be vintage with an interesting backstory, or new and fancy/innovative in some way. I like listening to him share his enthusiasm about this stuff. I also have a huuuuge craving to try to impress him by buying him some really cool trinket or accessory but he knows more about these things than I do so maybe I won’t. It would bother me to spend money on an item that he didn’t end up liking; I’d feel hurt if he returned it and hurt if he kept it but didn’t ever wear/use it and…yeah.
  • I’ve mentioned before that The Dandy had a heart bypass a few years back. He has to take medication for associated issues. Every time he takes his pills, he makes some awkward little comment about it – once even sarcastically calling the pill-taking process “sexy”. I never really noticed the pattern until recently and now I really wanna let him know that I’m not put off by him taking meds. I’m happy to see him taking care of his health. I’ve gone out with so many guys who didn’t.
  • He probably would have stayed over last night, in fact, except his pills were at home and if he doesn’t take them punctually he very quickly begins to feel it. I told him that if he wants (and is logistically able) to keep a pill stash at my place, he can. He seemed surprised by that. Maybe it didn’t occur to him to do that or maybe he’s so convinced the pills are unsexy to me that he assumes I wouldn’t want them here? I doubt the issue is that the gesture is offputtingly, level-jumpingly “relationshippy” for his tastes. We already talk as though this thing with us will extend into the future. Last time I was at his place he half-jokingly remarked that he should clear out a dresser drawer for me. I am amenable to this.
  • Last time I was at his place he also went to undress and when I said “gyrate for me!” he did, and with a reasonable amount of panache. A lot of guys won’t (yes, this is a common request for me), and the guys who have were submissive-leaning folks who were either awkward and self-conscious but dug the humiliation factor or confident exhibitionists who had probably practiced their stripper moves in front of the mirror at home for years just in case. The Dandy is none of those things. He’s just comfortable in his body, willing to do things to please me, and not overly self-conscious. It’s a very new dynamic to me.
  • Also, I hadn’t thought to bring my Hitachi with me for that visit and for years now that’s the only way I can get off. We got frisky together, anyway, including a huuuuge long PIV session that left me astoundingly aroused. Usually these days an orgasm is nice but I don’t need one; that night I needed one. And I actually managed to have one, administered myself by hand while The Dandy fingered my g-spot. I was so grateful to realize that I can still do that that I ended up sobbing far beyond one of my standard stress-release crygasms. The Dandy wrapped himself around me and held me all through it without being freaked out or demanding to know what was wrong (I did tell him what was going on in my head, eventually).
  • The Dandy generally stays hard after coming and you can keep right on stimulating him – it doesn’t hurt him like it hurts every other guy I’ve ever given a hand job to. I haven’t set out to give him multiple orgasms yet but I think I’d like to. As it stands, he regularly keeps on fucking me even after he’s come, which I have mixed feelings about. On one hand, PIV tends to chafe me after a while; normally I’m totally good for that part of things to last under ten minutes and the main reason I’ll ever go beyond is if my partner hasn’t come yet. On the other hand, occasionally I want to come during PIV, which almost always takes a while because my partner’s body simultaneously turns me on, gets in the way, and distracts me (but the payoff is soooo fucking good), and with The Dandy I don’t ever have to have that fear of “what if he comes before I’m finished” in the back of my mind. Dude is a machine.
  • It’s still fascinating to me how well this is working so far despite us both being dominant. Mind you, my libido is kinda trashed lately from stress etc and when that dies, my drive for kink dies, too. Maybe when I’m a little more healed from the Pedant breakup and some other stressors are over with, I’ll be ravenous for submission and bdsm play and my interactions with The Dandy will be missing something for me. But he cooks for me and endeavors to give me whatever I need sexually (well, vanilla-wise) and these are two types of service I adore in a sub. Only difference is we don’t have an overt agreement that he will always do these things when asked, and he’s probably getting something different out of doing these things than a sub would. Still, though. I feel taken care of and attended to and it’s not bad.
  • Speaking of vanilla sex, though…The Dandy has never gone down on me. Not even a little bit. Not even a kiss in the genital region (actually he’s never kissed me anywhere but the mouth…he doesn’t seem to go in for full-body exploration like I do). I’m kind of torn about this. I don’t get off on oral anymore these days anyway, and most guys aren’t good at it, so no great loss. But I like knowing I could have oral if I wanted it. It bothers me on principle if a guy is grossed out by going down. And I’m kinda wondering if The Dandy is one of those. Incidentally, I’ve given him oral every time we’ve ever been naked, I think. So it’s not that he’s trying to be good at sex with me by mirroring what I do.
  • The Dandy has never received ass play. I asked if he was against the idea, and he said no, just nobody ever offered before. I offered, and he kind of just smiled and shrugged, and then we got distracted and I forgot to make my customary “I want you to be comfortable and not just do it for my benefit, so I’m just gonna put out there that I’m up for it and then never mention it again and if you actively want to try, it’s up to you to tell me” speech. So now I don’t know where he stands with things – if he’d like to try but is shy, or if he doesn’t want to but is too polite – and I don’t want to bring it up again and maybe seem pushy.
  • …but I hugged him from behind the other day as he was chopping things up for dinner and he waggled his ass suggestively against my hips, so that’s…something. At the very least he’s not overly hung up the idea that getting ass-humped makes him un-domly or un-straight. I like this about him.

There were more things I wanted to say, I think, but I’ve forgotten. This is plenty, anyway.

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Speaking of not being powerless…

So, a few years back I seated my window air conditioner in not-quite-the-right-spot and condensation dripped down the inside of the wall and caused a bunch of damage. The landlords are making me pay for repairs, which, y’know, fair enough.

The contractor they got said he’d do it for $700 cash or $700 plus tax if I paid him by any other method. I get it: if I give him cash, he can hide it from the tax people and not claim it. If money goes through his bank account and he doesn’t claim it on his taxes, an auditor would find out.

I don’t condone cheating on taxes buttttttt I’m poor and want to save money so I said I’d pay cash. But then suddenly my landlady was texting me that the contractor needed half the money upfront and she wanted me to e-transfer her the amount and she’d give it to him. I’d been going to give the guy cash as soon as he came in the door anyway but I assumed he must want it even sooner than that, and that this is what “upfront” meant. I texted her back that if we did what she was suggesting, I’d have to pay tax, and couldn’t I just give him cash when he got here? She said I should email him.

So I email the contractor and he says it’s not him insisting on payment going that way, it’s my landlady – she wants an invoice for the work. He himself would be fine getting cash like I wanted. FOR FUCK’S SAKE why did the landlady send me on a wild goose chase, then?

I messaged the landlady explaining again about the tax thing and basically saying that the tax on this job adds up to quite a chunk of money for me and I’m not the one who needs an invoice sooooo how ’bout I e-transfer her $700 and she covers the tax herself? Or else I could pay cash and if she needs proof that the work was completed I could send her pictures. I did say it more politely than that but yeah.

After I sent the message I clued in: the landlady wanted an invoice for the work, in her name, so she can claim it as a write-off on her taxes. Even though I’m the one paying for the work. And that’s fucking bullshit. I mean I don’t actually care about her writing it off – it’s not like I could use that write-off myself – but I’ll be damned if I’m paying almost a hundred bucks extra for the repairs so someone else can benefit from it.

But the landlady is scary so I felt pretty barfy wondering how she would react to me refusing to pay that tax. Also she didn’t say outright that she wanted an invoice so she could scam the government, so if she refused to accommodate my request, then what? I’d have to get kind of accusatory and she probably wouldn’t react well.

Annnnd right about at this point in my panic attack I got a text from her saying “I’ll cover the tax. Just send the main amount.” Just like that.

I’m really proud of myself for being assertive. Normally authority figures scare me and I roll right over for whatever they say. But making me pay extra for her to get a tax break really would have been bullshit. I think she knew it, too, and that’s why she opted not to fight with me about it.

 

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