Last night The Dandy got off on a huge technical tangent, as he is wont to do. I generally like these. This one was triggered by me putting away his clean silverware from the dishwasher – I noticed the drawer had some sporks in it made of metal(!) and I commented on it. I associate sporks with fast food trash so it was weird to see a durable, for-keeps version. The Dandy started giving a dissertation on the differencecs between titanium and steel, and why titanium would be the best material for a spork.

I listened for a while, and then I was like “okay wait are you saying ‘CUTTLE-ry’?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because the word is CUTLERY.”

“Well, whatever,” The Dandy said, embarassed, and launched into more talk about metals.

I wouldn’t have been quite so mean about it but I’ve noticed that The Dandy has atendency to assume he knows more than me about EVERYTHING and it’s annoying. I like that he’s smart. I like that he enjoys teaching me things. But sometimes he’ll start trying to teach me a thing I already know, and no matter how much I say “yes, I know that,” and nod vigorously and finish his sentences, he won’t stop. Like I’ve had to actually tell him “this is not a thing I need to be taught; stop talking now.”

One particularly annoying and mansplainey incident: the other night I said “hey, if someone’s foresight gets cut off, is it called a circumspection?” This was a joke. Wordplay. Ha ha.

The Dandy appeared to get the joke; at any rate, he chuckled. But then he said “circumspection actually means ‘looking around.'”

“Yes,” I said, puzzled at him explaining the meaning of a word I’d just used. “Same root as ‘circle’ and ‘circumference.’ And as ‘circumcision,’ hence the joke.”

“‘Circumcision’ literally means ‘to cut around,'” The Dandy added helpfully. In retrospect it’s hard not to reimagine this in a Ralph Wiggum voice. It’s just so random.

“YES, ‘circum’ as in ‘around’ and ‘cision’ like ‘incision’ or ‘incisive’ or ‘incisor’ or – bitch, I took Latin in high school. Don’t fuck with me.”

And he finally got the hint and shut up.

But now I’m wondering if he didn’t realize I was even making a joke – if he thought his charmingly dense girlfriend ACTUALLY thought “circumspection” might mean chopping something off – and he chuckled at the silly, silly thoughts my girlbrain came up with and then gently attempted to explain what the words really meant. Like, WTF.

Another time I wondered if he could write me a computer program for letting horny dudes on the internet transfer money to me (the existing ones I’ve looked into either don’t keep my personal info anonymous enough, won’t allow sex workers to use their services, or are for Americans only). So I asked if he had any experience making e-commerce software and he said “like an online shopping cart?” I said no, and explained what I wanted. He said he’d never done something like that and had never worked in e-commerce before but incidentally “e-commerce” just means online stores or online shopping carts and that’s it. I said no it doesn’t and he argued with me until I rather loudly informed him that my ex-husband was a high-level manager at an e-commerce company and what they made was software for sending invoices and money securely online so The Dandy needed to not fight me on this. And finally (finally!) he shut up.

Oh also this morning on the bus (I’d slept over at his place and he was going to work, me home) we passed through one of my target neighbourhoods where I’m seeking apartments. The neighbourhood is also near a college where I’ve posed many times. I told The Dandy how I’d read somewhere that the neighbourhood of [college] was one of the safest in the city but the next time I was working there I didn’t see any apartment buildings anywhere so I gave up (not realizing that there’s a HUGE cluster of buildings a block or two up) so good thing The Dandy told me to go more north in my quest.

“[College] is right over there,” The Dandy said, pointing as the bus passed it (and again my mind’s ear hears this in Ralph Wiggum’s voice).

“Yes, I know; I work there.”

It’s so depressing. Even the good, generally feminist guys like The Dandy pull this shit. I have no patience for it anymore.


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My friend Kaija tentatively wants to fix me up with a guy her partner knows. Apparently this dude has a thing for tall, tattooed women and may enjoy being bossed around. The reason he may enjoy being bossed around is because he’s passive and indecisive, not submissive per se, and that would probably drive me crazy. But the idea of being with someone who has a physical “type,” and I’m it, is…appealing. I’m not definitely saying no. Kaija’s gonna get me a pic of him if she can, to aid in my evaluation process.

I told The Dandy about this when I saw him last night. I said that TBH I feel like I haven’t dated anyone in a long time who thought I was really, really attractive (I started saying this without even thinking – just venting to someone I feel close to. Took me until this point to think “Oh derp THE DANDY IS A PERSON I’M DATING, well this is awkward” and my spiel hitched for a second like a computer buffering but then I figured what the fuck and kept talking). I said that when I was younger and more conventionally attractive I’d catch partners staring at me with huge glittery anime eyes, just utterly mesmerized by how hot they thought I was. And I don’t remember the last time that happened, and it’s fine, looks aren’t the most important part of a relationship, I know my partners feel connected to me and love my brain and yadda yadda yadda. But still, it would be nice to be swooned over, physically.

And like I said, I was saying this to The Dandy as a random vent and had kind of even forgotten that it applied to him until midway through. I wasn’t fishing for compliments. Which is good because there were none forthcoming; when I said that I think nobody I’m dating thinks I’m super hot or anything, he just listened quietly with a sheepish expression. Okay, so fair enough, I guess I called it.

Honestly, despite what we’re all taught about men being sooooo highly visually stimulated, I think a lot of them are just…not. Because, I mean, it’s not just that he doesn’t look at me that way; I never see The Dandy obsessing on anyone’s eye candy. Ditto many of the other partners I’m thinking of where that component of visual lust was absent on their side. I, meanwhile, get spellbound by hotness pretty frequently to a point where if a partner is around I suppress my reactions so as not to offend him, but it’s really really difficult. Like I have to actually struggle not to openly eye-hump the person/express disbelief at their hotness repeatedly/lose all track of the conversation I’m having with my partner because I’m momentarily gobsmacked by the pretty/etc. I hold no ill will toward partners of mine who just aren’t that visual in general. I know it’s nothing personal. If someone I’m dating drools all over other people but not me, that’s different.

Anyway. I’d just gotten finished stating that I know looks aren’t the be-all and end-all of a relationship and then for whatever reason I felt like clarifying, because looks are pretty important to me. I want that delirious lust where I just wanna eat the other person up (and The Dandy does give me that – his body is not my ideal but his face just transfixes me, and he’s witnessed me staring intently into his eyes in creepy silence for minutes on end and then saying “you…are so fucking pretty” many, many times). So I amended my previous statement. I said that looks are important to me when it comes to partners. I grinned at The Dandy and said “I am a curator of beautiful things.”

And The Dandy put on a fake-innocent voice and said “Then how did you end up with me?” which…kind of brought me to the limit of my patience. Like dude you goddamned know I find you attractive. I tell you almost every time I see you. And you surely know that my “curator” comment was a veiled way of saying it yet again. And you totally just listened to me tell you that I suspect my partners don’t find me all that attractive but I wish they did, and you just sat there nodding and not saying anything – not even something like “looks aren’t important to me but you have the most fantastic brain.” But here you are wanting me to heap even more praise onto you. The Bunny used to pull shit like that, too. And there was a similar thing at least once with Minx.

I rolled my eyes and said “how’s the fishing in Compliment Lake? Are you catching anything?” and he got the hint and we talked about something else.

But Jesus, the neediness. Tell a guy he’s hot one fucking time and he’ll be back begging for more for the rest of his goddamned life. It’s like feeding a stray cat or something. And I’m so very tired of feeling like I give more validation/emotional labour/etc than I get.

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Weight and see

So for the past month or two I’ve been trying to watch what I eat because my weight got up higher than I’d like. I’m not doing any big restrictive capital-D Diet or anything, more like trying to form some good habits that I could in theory sustain for the rest of my life. I’ve switched to a lower-fat version of a few foods I regularly eat and have cut back on sweets and stuff. I’m trying to eat fruits or veggies with every meal.

And, okay, in fairness the bullshit with the neighbours has escalated so much recently that I feel persecuted in my own home so for the last two weeks I’ve probably been eating substantially less than usual because a) fluttery anxiety-stomach and b) do not want to be here long enough to properly cook anything. Also: SO MUCH ANXIETY-POOPING.

I honestly wasn’t sure if my dietary changes would impact my weight. I thought maybe I’d reached an age where I’d just be kinda fat no matter what, and maybe my efforts would do nothing. But I’m starting to see a little something. A few months ago, the calf-high boots I wear all the time were tight at the tops; now they’re not. My waist waxes and wanes like the moon tbh but the other day it measured 31″, which is my lowest fluctuation in quite a while.

Last night I was at The Dandy’s and Dandette has a bathroom scale so I weighed myself. Now, I haven’t been rigorously keeping track of this shit (if I try, I will toggle over from “let’s switch to low fat cheese and just casually see what happens” to being obsessed and weighing myself twelve times a day and deciding that actually maybe I should restrict my intake way more, which is why I don’t own a scale). I don’t remember precisely how long I’ve been at this pseudo-diet thing. I don’t know exactly how much I weighed when I first decided to do it. I know that I did reach 207lbs at one point, and I was at least the same size if not bigger by the time I decided to make changes. Last night when I weighed myself, the scale said 192.6lbs. And I’d just eaten a big piece of lasagna and drunk like four glasses of water at the time so really my actual body probably weighs less.

So, I’m getting thinner like I wanted to and maybe my amazing knee-high boots that my calves got too big for can go back on my footwear roster again one day. Neat.



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Moar Pedant

The Pedant returned last night after work, ostensibly to help me paint my apartment some more. Spoilers: we got naked instead.

Shit ran late at his job so he didn’t end up arriving til 9pm (vs 7:30 which is what we’d planned). So, only two hours before the noise bylaws kicked in. And I knew I wanted to fuck him and I know my vibrator is loud enough that the harpy downstairs can hear it and will sometimes pound her ceiling over it and my vibrator is the only way I can really get off anymore, so.

I am feeling a bit distant from The Pedant these days – I mean, we broke up and I had like half a year to process that and realize that he’s…really kind of an idiot in a lot of ways, and that he really didn’t give as good as he got in our relationship. I don’t know if it’s the frisson of feeling like he needs to “win me over” or if he was just particularly horny when he arrived, but The Pedant was hilariously thirsty. Like I let him in and it didn’t occur to me to hug or kiss him hello, and apparently he felt this lack and as we made small talk he hovered over me giving off palpable “touch me” vibes. I’d just made a plate of eggs and I was starving so I retrieved my food from the kitchen and set it on the couch and then I finally succumbed to the hug he so clearly wanted. He murmured in my ear that he’d “come prepared” like he’d promised (he’d offered to wear an old pair of boxers that I could cut off him with scissors). “Good,” I said evenly, “and I managed to find time today to wrap a couple of dog leashes around the top of my bedframe.” I use leashes as attach points for wrist and ankle restraints and he knows this. Just me saying that made him gasp and shudder. Fun! Dance, puppet, dance! He also asked me, in his low, slightly unsteady, turned-on voice, if the toys I used to use on him are still clean. I said yes and he said “you could probably convince me to let you use them on me tonight.” Uh-huh. He doesn’t really want ass play but he could be convinced to take a plug or dildo for my sake. Okay.

Between kisses he also asked me if I’m okay with our current “friends with benefits” status. Oh, is that what we are? He’s so fixated on unicorn-hunting with his girlfriend that he’s relegating me to not-a-relationship even though we’re interacting in exactly the same way we did when dating? Pfft, whatever. I said yeah, it’s probably fine.

After a minute or two of vertical snuggling in my living room The Pedant said “you should eat your eggs before they get cold.” I agree, and the only reason I hadn’t started already is that he didn’t let up his grip and I was too polite to struggle out of it. I turned around and stood there for a second surveying the couch area for the jar of mayo I knew was there somewhere (it’s the fat-craving week of my cycle and I’ve been putting mayo on everything). The Pedant took this pause as an invitation, or something, and stepped up behind me and put his arms around me again and started kissing the back of my neck. I visually located the mayo jar and tactfully waited thirty seconds before saying “ah, there’s what I was looking for” and disentangling. I curled up on my side to eat, leaning on one elbow. The couch is currently covered in a bunch of clutter because reasons, so there was barely room for just me, but The Pedant – catlike – insinuated himself into the clutter until he was spooning me from behind. He continued petting me and kissing my neck and shoulders as I ate. I told him about a recent triumph, posing for a highly publicized costumed drawing class and being generally adored and showered in compliments. This gig has a photographer who takes promotional pics for their Facebook page, and I said that I couldn’t wait to see the pics because I looked goddamned resplendent that night. “I’m sure you did,” The Pedant said softly, right in my ear. Ha ha he never gives a shit about my art gigs or thinks my costumes are sexy.

Part of me really did want to string him along and make him paint my kitchen a bit before we got down to fucking, but ultimately the time constraint/loud Hitachi conundrum won out and I took him straight to bed. Actually I told him I wanted to just lie down and digest my food for a few minutes before seguing to other things (*cough*). So I lay on my back on the bed and The Pedant barnacled himself to the side of my body with one leg thrown over mine and his face pretty much pressed against my cheek. He petted me a bunch and I gradually allowed myself to be won over to it, taking off my shirt and bra to allow more skin access. The Pedant doesn’t usually take an active role in bed, or even touch me back…except, come to think of it, when he knows I’m mad at him or feeling distant or needing to be won over. So in effect, the more love I felt for him back in the day, the shittier and more one-sided the sex got. What bullshit.

So for a long time I simply lay back and enjoyed The Pedant petting me, and I gave him some minimal pets back but didn’t shift my full attention to him. Eventually I said “Your face needs to be 100% more between my legs than it currently is” and – obliging but moving in slow motion because stupefied by arousal – he shifted his body downward and I squirmed out of the sweatpants I was wearing.

As an aside: The Dandy has never gone down on me. I pointed this out to him, once, doing that thing where I make an observation and then just wait to see what the other person says – and he simply agreed “nope, I haven’t” without giving any reasons and I didn’t dig further because if he thinks vulvas are disgusting or that giving head would make him submissive that’ll just irritate me. So for the most part I’ve been living in a cunnilingus-free universe. And it’s not even like I can get off that way anymore, but it still feels good, and I miss the intimacy.

The Pedant, conversely, is an enthusiastic rugmuncher, if a little haphazard and lacking in finesse. If I’m gonna get anywhere near orgasm I need someone to find my sweet spot and hit it rhythmically; he was just kinda doing this sporadic all-over-the-place thing that sometimes ground his scratchy beard into me in a painful way. But sometimes he accidentally did things that felt good, too, and it was a turn-on just feeling like he was submitting to me and doing my bidding and reveling in my taste and smell. I was so turned on, in fact, that after five or ten minutes when I decided to bring in my dildo and Hitachi and finish things off, I came three times in a row. Been a while since I felt like having a third. 🙂 Even after I set the Hitachi aside, The Pedant kept moving my dildo around inside me and gently stroking my clit, which gave ma a bunch of pleasant aftershocks. I called him a good boy and he did that little gaspy thing. He really digs the idea of being my slave. Normally, for whatever reason, he seems to attract women more on the submissive side so it’s a safe-ish bet his girlfriend doesn’t give him what I do. I bet he’s been feeling all kinds of backed up. 😛

Eventually I told him to come up and lie on his back. I didn’t give him the kind of hours-long-marathon-of-hitting-his-erogenous-zones that he’s accustomed to from me (half revenge, half wanting to be done with possibly noisy stuff by 11pm) but I cuffed his wrists to the bed and cut his underwear off and jerked him off with a gloved, lubed finger up his ass (spoilers: the finger up the ass didn’t take any “convincing.” I simply got a nitrile glove out of the bedside table and put it on, and the sound of me doing so made The Pedant gasp in anticipation). It was fun and fascinating watching his face as I gently moved that finger inside him. As he approached orgasm I eased up on the finger movements so as not to distract him, then twitched my finger slow and steady just after he went over the edge and was actually coming. His whimpering sounds were epic.

And then of course he immediately fell fast asleep, as he does. I got up to pee and when I returned I had to nudge him over from the centre of the bed to make room for me. The realization that I was next to him made him start awake for a second and instantly turn and glomp onto me. He clung to me like a drowning man to a life preserver for most of the night.

He set his alarm extra early this morning – like two hours before he had to be at his job which is 20 minutes from my house – and he didn’t expressly say this but I think it was so there was time for us to cuddle. At least that’s how he ended up spending the extra time. Before he left, he kissed me, then knelt and kissed my pubic mound, then came up and kissed my mouth again. Prawr.

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Sex Stuff

Physically, sex with the Dandy is…kind of boring. I expected this; he’s a Taurus (yes, I kind of believe in astrology, shut up) and they are known for being kind of workman-like in the sack. Most of the time he just gets on top, puts his face in the crook of my neck, and thrusts away until he comes. I feel like I can’t really contribute much from the bottom aside from some moaning. The way I have to move when I’m on top wears me out really fast, though.

Last time we hung out we discussed our wank fantasies and he said (not for the first time) that he mostly just fantasizes about vanilla sex. I asked if he was on the top or bottom usually and he said top. So I guess things are fine.

A few times, after this mechanical missionary sex, I’ve noticed him sniffling even though he did not previously have a stuffy nose. His face is still in my neck so I can’t see his expression but I suspect he might be having crygasms. That’s intriguing…

The other day after he got off he went to the bathroom to clean up, leaving me to get myself off without accompaniment. I think that’s just goddamned rude. If it seems like he’s gonna do it again I’ll tell him not to.

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More Pedant

The Pedant returned wearing just boxer-briefs and clambered up onto the bed. I still wasn’t sure if we were just platonic or what (he’d called his relationship full-time but also said they were poly, so was he available or not? Into me or not?) but either way I hoped we could snuggle instead of sleeping on separate sides of the bed.

Once The Pedant lay down next to me he put out his arm for me to cuddle up to him with my head on his chest. Yay.

After a few minutes of us lying like that, his fingers found the strip of exposed skin between my tank top and sweatpants and began caressing it. This felt nice. I moaned appreciatively. I ran my hand up and down his arm affectionately and he made an unmistakeable sex-gasp. But just because my touch turned him on didn’t (I surmised) mean hewas necessarily up for sex. His pettings seemed somewhat ambiguous in flavour. I kept my touches sort of neutral, waiting for him to do something that definitely indicated consent to sexytimes.

He kept on stroking my lower back. I kept on gently moving my hand up and down on his arm. I could feel his heart pounding wildly against my face.

His caresses turned into a very nice and much-needed back massage. After a while he asked “would you like me to get your other shoulder?” and I nodded and rolled over. He squeezed the tension out of that shoulder and then even moved his attentions down my back and legs to my feeet and back up again, and I writhed and tried hard to suppress my happy-sounds so the harpy wouldn’t bang on her ceiling. She either didn’t hear us or doesn’t consider those types of sounds offensive (ha! Yeah, right) so no knocking.

The Pedant crawled back up and resumed his position on his back with one arm around me and my head on his chest. “Feeling better?” he whispered.

“I always feel better when you’re next to me” I whispered back, and it’s true: once our relationship was somewhat established (so I wasn’t angsty about what we even were) I always felt so good wrapped up in his arms. He’s the best person ever at talking me down from anxiety and our bodies fit together well.

The Pedant began caressing me again and for a long time I petted him back in sort of neutral places, positioning my mouth near his in case he should decide to break our stalemate by kissing me. He did not and his gasps and moans from me petting his arms and stomach were turning me on so finally I made my way to his nipples. He didn’t stop me. I had him thrashing and moaning for who knows how long (and we did eventually kiss, or rather I went to kiss him and he flopped his mouth open passively the way he does). When I finally touched his cock it was only half-hard, which I completely expected; he has a history of erectile dysfunction when he’s not sure where we stand.

I had to get up and pee anyway and when I came back I turned away from him, pulled his arm over me so we were spooning, and went to sleep. He didn’t object.

Long story short, the next morning I did fuck him (after some initial waffling between wanting to stay in bed with him yet wanting to start on the apartment chores). I assumed that he and his girl are fluid bonded by now, and I used a condom. He didn’t tell me not to and this gave me a bit of a pang.

His erection worked fine and the condom didn’t seem to hinder his enjoyment any. After a few minutes of me riding him he murmured “do you want me to come for you?” and I said that I did and he erupted into fireworks. I didn’t expect his orgasm to affect me – I don’t feel that close to him anymore – but it totally jumped across into my brain and made me growl and shudder. And then I wanted an orgasm of my own, and he helped.

Afterwards he said “We can’t make this a regular thing. NewGirl and I are poly on paper but in reality we spend about ninety percent of our free time together. She’s my priority, plus finding a second girl for us to date.” Oh yeah that’s the thing about The Pedant, he’s a unicorn hunter. His big dream is to be in an FMF triad, god knows why. I suspect one reason we’re not together anymore is that I’m not bi and he considers that a strike against me as far as long-term comptibility goes. Because yeah, just like with the last chick he really liked, he’s suddenly super keen to move in with her and talking all the time about “finding them another girl” in the most irritating objectifying unicorn-hunter way ever.

And like…I’m willing to fuck a guy who prioritizes another partner more highly than me, if the sex is good enough. But it irritates the living shit out of me that The Pedant puts not just NewGirl ahead of me, but also some generic idea of a second chick whom he hasn’t even met yet! And what is WITH these unicorn hunters who are SO focused on finding someone? Is their pre existing relationship not quite fulfilling enough and they think adding a third person will fix it? Are they just so excited to have a living sex toy to play with and bring them closer together that they can’t wait for something to happen organically? I have no problem with triads per se but it seems like it would be almost impossible to make one happen on purpose.

Anyway, I’d already guessed that The Pedant didn’t want to date me again per se (because he’d been blathering on and on about NewGirl and her Long Term Potential in exactly the same way he had about OtherGirl a few years back, and that had been a preface to telling me he didn’t have time for me anymore) but christ, imagine if I hadn’t seen this coming and had gotten my hopes up?! ONCE AGAIN (as with OtherGirl), The Pedant had sex with me and didn’t tell me what it meant til after. I lambasted him for that a little bit just on principle but I did tell him I kinda already knew the score.

So we agreed that we’re friends, not partners, because The Pedant will be focusing most of his time and attention on NewGirl and their irritatingly stereotypical unicorn hunt. But he did make it clear that anytime we do hang out, he’ll probably be down to fuck. I appreciate that clarity.

And then we discussed what needed doing around the apartment and I left for work and he prepped my kitchen for painting.

And I can’t help thinking that he’s being stupid – that he belongs with ME. Maybe he belongs with NewGirl, too. But he has claimed to love me, he seems to derive great fulfillment from helping me through my anxiety, and he can’t really seem to be around me without fucking me, so…

…And on my side, I adore the parts of his personality that past girlfriends specifically hated and dumped him over. He’s too stupid to see or believe it, but it’s true. With both OtherGirl and NewGirl he raved excitedly to me about how they really “got” him and he didn’t run into the pitfalls with them that he has with most other women (AHEM, what am I, chopped liver?). It’s worth noting that OtherGirl broke up with him just months after his dreamy soliloquy about how great they were together and how she’s socially weird in all the same ways as him – and she broke up with him basically over his weird social skills and rampant insensitivity, just like everyone else. He’s not a great judge of these things.

And it’s so weird to me how fast (with both these other chicks but not me) he jumped to wanting to cohabitate. He’s always insisted that he needs tons of alone time and blah blah blah. Maybe he’s just desperately looking for a set of human “training wheels” to get him out of his parents’ house and living on his own without REALLY living on his own? For a long time now I’ve suspected that he stays living with his parents because he’s scared of being completely independent. I’m a far messier person than him, so he wouldn’t want to live with ME. But yeah.

I guess I’m frustrated because The Pedant is SO CLOSE to being a great partner for me, but will never quite get there – and a big part of that is that he simply doesn’t see how good things were with us. I feel like he has an idea in his head of the ideal girlfriend (an idea that may or may not actually work for him) and his ideal doesn’t look like me, so he overlooks what we have/had. Plus he keeps assuming that I’m gonna react to things like his exes have, when I’ve told him a thousand times that I’m not them.

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A Wild Pedant Appears

I texted The Pedant telling him about my neighbour situation and asking him if he would come over sometime and help me paint and/or clean so I can move out (every time I make a single sound, the harpy downstairs loses her shit, so I’m afraid to do these things alone). I figured it was a long shot but what the hell. The Pedant broke up with me so he woulnd’t have to cut a set of keys, but he’s helped me with household stuff before.

The Pedant said yeah, he could probably help but he didn’t know when yet. I assumed this was a “soft rejection” and that would be the end of it.

But he came through. A few days later he said he could come over THAT NIGHT, crash here, and help me the next day. I said I had to work the next day but if he wanted to stay and paint by himself…I was being facetious but HE SAID YES.

He arrived at 11:30 and was quiet so as not to incur Harpy’s wrath, even though he’s not the least bit afraid of her. Obeying the noise bylaws so she’ll have no amunition, I guess, or simply respecting my wish to avoid riling her up.

His physical presence is so comforting to me. He knows legal stuff and he knows how to talk me down and he sees Harpy as a nuisance rather than a threat, so when he’s here I can see her that way a little, too. Plus The Pedant is a security guard and has training in how to take someone down if necessary. And he stays calm in emergencies. And he’s big and furry and warm.

We stood in my hallway, talking quietly as he took his boots off. I felt a glimmer of attraction, but it was easily ignored. I assumed he wasn’t into me anymore and was there as a friend. But when his shoes were off and I’d vented all my fear and stress and I launched myself at him for a hug, he did that tiny-intake-of-breath thing that he always did back when there was sexual tension and I finally made my move. I filed that away in my brain as a point of interest.

We moved to my bed to talk some more(my idea; it’s a loft bed, so further away from Harpy’s prying ears than my couch). He said he thought I should know that he has “a full time partner” now. He said he really did mean our split to be a”break” and not a breakup but then he met this chick and just fell so hard. He apologized for handling things badly. I said I actually assumed it WAS a breakup and hadn’t been waiting for him or anything.

Soon it was time for sleep. I called dibs onthe bed (because further from Harpy) – I said he could sleep next to me or on the couch, whichever. He gave me a look I couldn’t interpret and said “I’m comfortable sharing a bed with you.” Then he looked embarrassed and said he hadn’t thought to bring pajamas. I said I could lend him something and oddly he shrugged and said he didn’t care. He ducked out into my hallway and I heard the doffing of clothing. I lay there wondering if he would return naked or in boxers or what.


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