Malaise

I’m probably just going through one of my panicky phases right now but I still feel like my relationship with The Dandy isn’t going particularly well. He still kisses me hello when I get home and periodically solicits hugs, but other than that I kind of feel like just a roommate. We haven’t had sex in a while, partly because I don’t want to (I’m not feeling particularly close with him, and the last time we fucked was just so disappointingly utilitarian). But I always panic when a partner and I aren’t fucking – it always feels like the beginning of the end – and I have been feeling a sort of generalized randiness lately, so I tried putting the moves on him a few different times. He didn’t bite. So now I’m thinking, wait, he doesn’t feel close enough to me to have sex, either? Why the fuck wouldn’t he feel close to me?! Blah blah paranoia blah.

I’ve tried to jumpstart some loving feelings. I made him food a few times recently and have taken to stocking up his daily pill box thingy regularly (he takes an ungodly amount of medications every day for his high blood pressure and heart problems and half the time couldn’t remember if he’d taken his daily dose yet. I feel like blood pressure medication is not a thing you want to accidentally take doubles of, and I told him he needs one of those compartmentalized days-of-the-week things. Turns out he has one, he just hasn’t been using it. So I’ve made it my job to fill it up every Sunday for the coming week).

But I’m still mostly not feeling the closeness I want to, in either direction. He doesn’t reach out and pull me closer in his sleep anymore. I’m not looking at him and feeling gobsmacked by how beautiful he is (because that beauty was, in part, the glow he had for me because love).

And it really sounds like he has a track record of trying hard to impress a partner and then letting everything go to shit once they’re emotionally invested, so I’m wondering if this is just…how things are now. My new and shiny has worn off and now I’m just this person living in his apartment.

I don’t want to have my time taken up by a dead relationship. I think a lot about moving out.

But, the thing is…the housing market is still totally fucked. I don’t think it’s financially feasible anymore for me to live alone. I’d have to go into a roommate situation, which would mean having to learn a whole new set of people with their weird expectations etc. The Dandy is pretty easygoing. Dandette is either easygoing or wracked with panic attacks, depending on the day, but when she’s having a bad brain day she keeps to herself and doesn’t expect me to do anything. I never have to worry about rent because The Dandy is easily capable of covering it all with his salary alone in the event that my finances go sideways – where else am I gonna find someone that rich who wants roommates and is okay with picking up their slack once in a while*? Dandette does the lion’s share of cooking and cleaning, which improves my life immeasurably. And The Dandy buys most of the food and pays the whole bill for internet and Netflix, which relieves me of considerable financial strain.

And we’re on a waiting list for a bigger place where I can have my own bedroom, which neatly eliminates a lot of minor-key irritation (and occasional major irritations) for The Dandy and I. We’d both finally be able to have privacy whenever we wanted it, and I’ll be able to cultivate other relationships much more easily because I’ll have a place we can go when we wanna fuck.

So I’m tentatively thinking of mentally reframing this thing with The Dandy as a domestic partnership type deal rather than a romantic relationship. The Dandy and Dandette and I can be a team, looking after each other and forming a good working household unit. I could see The Dandy’s cuddles and hugs as a nice bonus to our comfy roommate arrangement, rather than hoping for passion and finding the hugs to be a pale substitute. I can get passion elsewhere. Passion tends to be unstable, anyway; I’d be afraid of building a live-in relationship on it.

Incidentally, I talked to Dandette this morning and she confirms that with her, The Dandy was super excited and sucking up to win her favour in the beginning, moved her in almost immediately, and then quickly subsided into taking her almost completely for granted and ignoring her most nights in favour of the internet. So I figure his ignoring me all the time in favour of the internet lately isn’t a phase or a fluke, just the new order of things. So yeah. I need to adjust accordingly.

I guess my big fear is that if I stop thinking of The Dandy in a romantic way, I won’t be too interested in having sex with him anymore. The sex frankly wasn’t/isn’t good enough in and of itself to be particularly compelling to me; I need to want to feel close to The Dandy for it to be worthwhile. Or just ridiculously horny to a point where even “he’s gonna thrust mechanically into my vagina til he comes and then perfunctorily get me off without looking me whatsoever during any of this” sex would scratch my itch.

And if his apparent disinterest in sex turns out to just be a phase, and I’m turning him down all the time, he may sense that the relationship is not going particularly well, and break up with me – after which he might expect me to leave.. I mean, maybe he’d keep me here anyway. He did with Dandette. But Dandette is a lot more fragile and incapable of surviving on her than I am (at least it seems that way), and she adds more to the household.

So…hmmm.

 

*I recently learned that a local school that gives me a lot of work might be about to go under. I was angsting to The Dandy about this, and just generally raging at how the freelance nature of my job is so insecure and mutable, and he said “Well, look on the bright side: if it does happen, rent will be lower.” I was confused. “I…rent for what? What does this school closing have to do with anyone’s rent?” and it turned out that was his extremely weird and roundabout way of saying “Don’t worry, if your finances get yanked out from under you it’s okay for you to pay less rent here until you get back on your feet. I’ll cover you.”

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Third and probably final installment of the recent-ish Pedant visit

When we got back to our suite after dinner, it was around 1am and truth be told I was pretty tired and could have just gone to sleep. I felt like that would be a waste of the room we’d paid for, though, and The Pedant made it clear that he was game to keep going all night, so I rallied myself as best I could.

There had been talk of The Pedant bathing me and then massaging me, but the stupid bathtub  in the suite had no plug for the drain (none in the sink, either) so the bath part of the evening was moot. I did grab my thing of moisturizer and have The Pedant massage my feet with it, though. And he was quite thorough and didn’t ask “so, better now?” every thirty seconds like he used to. When he did finally ask if I was feeling better (in a full sentence and with much a more sincere tone than the flippant “better?” he used to repeatedly give me) I requested a bit more work on my right foot and he provided it, for a good long time.

He got me off again, and preparatory to that, he lubed up my dildo by sucking on it (I’m honestly a bit squeamish about the spit-as-lube thing but it’s definitely not the sketchiest thing I’ve ever done to my vag and anyway I wanted to enjoy the show). He sucked my juices off the dildo after I’d come, too. Like, full eye contact, wrapping his lips tenderly around the head and then taking the toy as deeply into his mouth as it would go. The visual turned me on but in a weird way I was hesitant to let it turn me on because, like…did The Pedant understand that I was kinda-sorta picturing him giving fellatio to an actual cock just then? It seemed like he was putting on a deliberate show to turn me on, but was it a fellatio show or an I-bet-you’re-anticipating-this-toy-inside-you/look-how-much-I-love-your-juices show? I was a little scared that if I stared too intently he’d suddenly realize what was going through my head and get all weirded out. So I tried to play it at least a little cool.

But, you guys…I…I think he actually was deliberately giving fellatio to my dildo*. I’m not absolutely sure. But I think so. This may be one of those things where he was freaked out at first but slowly came around.

I ended up securing The Pedant to the bed again (this time in standard spread eagle formation) and cutting his boxers off him with scissors and edging him a whole bunch. It will never not be amazing to me that he can get off from such slow, languorous touches. I told him to tell me when he was close to coming because I wanted to edge him a bit, and I just kept swirling each my lubed-up hands sloooooowly around the head of his cock and then down the shaft in turn, and pretty soon he was telling me “I’m close” after ten seconds of this and I would back up and let him cool down a bit. At one point he requested I insert the stainless steel butt plug. It’s really nice to see him asking for this; now I know for sure it’s not just a thing he’s doing for me. I’m not sure what the plug does for him, since when I use my fingers he seems to prefer me moving them in very gentle circles just inside his entrance rather than pushing on his prostate, but apparently it does something.

Unfortunately, when I finally decided I wanted him to come inside me, I rode him thinking he’d go off like fireworks inside of a minute but he…didn’t. His dirty talk lapsed from “I want to come inside you” (which was hot) to “please make me come” (which is a bit performance anxiety-inducing) and I was shunting up and down on his cock so quickly as to feel somewhat undignified. I decided I wanted to go back to the slow stroking. I dismounted, pulled the condom off, and went back to the hand job.

(On a side note: at no time during any of our canoodling did The Pedant seem even remotely tempted to enter me without a condom. There were times that we were lying with our genitals touching and I sensed no hyperawareness of this and no shifting closer to “tease” himself as he used to do. Which is hurtful to me. Back when he and I weren’t really seeing anyone else and we agreed not to ditch condoms until we got STI tests and they came back okay, he “got carried away” and put himself inside me before either of us had even made an appointment. But now that he has a girlfriend who’s said “we’re fluid bonded, don’t bareback anyone else,” apparently he’s not prone to getting carried away anymore. That little reminder that he loves someone else and will effortlessly adhere to her boundaries stings like hell – especially since he didn’t adhere to mine back then. I enjoyed telling myself it was because our chemistry was just so hot he couldn’t help himself – but our hot chemistry is still very much there and he’s somehow found self-control. Fuck.)

Even with me back to stroking The Pedant with my hands, he was having a hard time getting over the edge. I felt kinda bad for him. I wonder if I went too far with the edging and his cock just abandoned all hope, or if he was just tired because it was like five in the morning by that point? At any rate, after quite a bit more struggling and straining and desperation, he finally did get off. His orgasm was less sustained than one might expect; in fact he got oversensitive really quickly and whispered “stop.”

After that he passed out immediately, as he is wont to do. I needed more time to wind down. I ended up only getting about two hours’ sleep in the end (he didn’t fare that much better; maybe four hours for him). Once we’d checked out of the suite, we went up to my place to catch up on sleep for a bit. He used some flimsy-sounding pretext to avoid using my and The Dandy’s bed; I assume he just felt weird about that  and for some reason didn’t wanna tell me flat out. We ended up dozing cuddled up on the couch. Unfortunately the building picked the worst possible day to start testing the fire alarms, so the klaxon went off in little bursts every five minutes. But I managed to get some rest, anyway, and I think he did, too.

Then he needed to get home so I walked him to the bus stop ’cause the building/neighbourhood is complicated at first. And the bus came and we kissed goodbye and that was that.

 

*Related: last night I unpacked a box left over from moving in here and I found my packer (squishy limp cock-n-balls that a person without a cock-n-balls of their own can put inside their pants). I stuffed it into the front of my boxer briefs, found The Dandy, and asked him to cup my package. He wouldn’t. He refused to touch this hunk of squishy rubber(?) simply because it was shaped like a penis. Actually I’m pretty sure The Pedant reacted the same way, back in the day; it’s nice to see that he may be evolving a little bit.

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I want to fuck a magician.

It seems to be trendy these days to rag on magicians (or any kind of circus-ish performers) as being unsexy. I don’t really understand why.

Well, I mean, I assume it’s because a person ideally needs a sense of childlike wonder/suspension of disbelief to enjoy magic and circus stuff, and the hip, cool, cynical, sarcastic folks are all about the exact opposite of that.

But I like the idea of dating or fucking a performer of almost any kind. Performing in front of people requires confidence, physical prowess, and a good knowledge of how you come across – all great things in someone you’re banging. And magicians in particular are often really, really fast and deft with their hands, so…y’know. Rawr.

I mean, look at this guy. LOOK AT HIM. He makes it look like a Sharpie marker is disappearing into thin air and I have no idea how he does it. TBH I’m more impressed with that being a sleight of hand than I would be if it were actual magic. If magic powers actually existed, the Sharpie would have legit vanished. This guy had to put the Sharpie somewhere else without us noticing, which is a whole different thing. And he does it with such showmanship. His whole routine is a beautiful dance, really. And I guess that’s part of the draw for me with magicians: most of them have obviously put effort into how they come off. They’re not just doing tricks, they’re doing them with style. Most guys can barely be bothered to buy pants that fit right, and meanwhile the guy in my link there is successfully giving the appearance of conjuring smoke from nowhere with a flourish of his hands.

 

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Dinner (part 2 of the last Pedant visit)

Right, so The Pedant and I slept for a few hours and then wandered upstairs for dinner with The Dandy and Dandette.

It’s always hilarious when guys do the macho posturing thing with each other. The Pedant and The Dandy greeted each other curtly, in voices slightly louder and an octave lower than usual. I half expected them to start pulling empty beer cans out of thin air and crushing them against their foreheads while yelling “BOO-ya!” at each other. Curiously, though, The Dandy had opted to come to the dinner table in his blue brocade pajamas, which somewhat undercut his manly, aloof facade.

In case any of you have forgotten, the two of them do know each other. Maybe friends is the wrong word, but they met years and years ago in the goth nightclub/concert scene and are acquaintances. And honestly it’s not just The Pedant who is pedantic; the first night I met the two of them, we headed home on the same bus and the two of them got into animated chitchat about Military Uniforms Through the Ages or similar. They both know a lot of esoteric things and like to talk about them at length.

Dandette brought out candied carrots, risotto, and a pork roast. The Dandy took one look at the slices of pork and said they were too pink for his taste. Dandette said she knew he likes his meat well-done and she orchestrated it so some of the roast was pink but some was not. The Dandy still looked skeptical (while not even looking through the slices of meat to find the well-done ones) and Dandette wearily said “Fine, I’ll just fry yours up until it’s more cooked.”

I’d taken some pork off the platter immediately but Dandette whipped the rest of it off to the kitchen to re-cook, leaving The Pedant awkwardly meatless. I could hear her muttering to herself that she couldn’t do anything right – a mood she gets in sometimes. When she brought the meat back out, she excused herself and left the apartment. I figured she was having an anxiety attack and needed to be alone to compose herself; she hates having a fuss made when she’s like that, so I pretended like nothing was happening. The Pedant either had the same instinct or is just an insensitive asshole because he also ignored it – didn’t ask where Dandette had gone or anything. The two of them didn’t even try to leave some food for her to eat when she came back – they devoured it all.

When Dandette came back, the two guys were deep in conversation about politics and I was zoned out. She rolled her eyes and made some remark to me like “Ugh, there they go.” “Yup,” I said. “At this point I’m just letting their voices wash over me and thinking about how pretty they both are.” Neither man heard any of that at all, or acknowledged that Dandette had returned.

Just as an aside: I definitely do consider myself poly. I like variety and I like freedom and I’m attracted to lots of different physical types. But when I’m into someone and find him attractive, I just obsesssssssss on his physicality. Like, stare and memorize every single feature of his face and body and find beauty in it all. It can be a little bit hard to even find someone else attractive when I’m in full-on obsesso-mode with a guy. Having both my main partners in the same room together was…you know that joke about putting a chameleon on something plaid? The implication that the chameleon will probably get overstimulated by trying to turn himself plaid, and explode? Kinda how I felt. The Dandy and The Pedant are both six-foot-ish white guys with brown hair and blue eyes – and, by complete coincidence, they also each have shoulder-length hair with an undercut and a mustache/beard (The Dandy didn’t have that hairdo back when we first met, and actually only acquired the facial hair after I dated him the first time around; undercuts and facial hair aren’t specifically a “thing” for me), but their bodies and facial structures are quite different. So as they yapped away about how best to fix our city’s public transit system, I kept looking from one to the other and trying to get my head around how they could each – at different times – be the absolute epitome of beauty to me, and yet they look so very different. I’d stare at The Pedant long enough to get starstruck by his pretty, and then look over at The Dandy and his face would look weird for a minute because it was Not-Pedant, but then I’d acclimate and The Pedant would look weird to me because Not-Dandy. Yes, I know I’m strange.

Anyway. Dandette told me that she guessed she just couldn’t do anything right that day, meaning the thing with the meat. Her tone was a bit histrionic – definitely she was depressed/anxious and trying to wallow in mean thoughts about herself – but I’ve seen her go through low patches like this before that passed without incident; I had no idea she would end up wanting to commit suicide later that night. I reassured her that The Dandy was just being dumb – she’d clearly told him that she had accommodated his tastes and he’d ignored this. And anyway The Pedant and I were totally on board with the medium-rare roast, and had very much enjoyed the carrots and rice, too. The Dandy had eaten everything on his plate and then some, in the end, too, so really the meal was a success. I’d hoped that I could logic her out of her anxiety. Obviously not.

At some point, Dandette broke through the guys’ wall of oration and we all hung out and talked about stuff that wasn’t politics. Then she went out for a smoke and during that time I made a dinosaur joke or something and that got the guys speechifying to each other about esoteric dinosaur facts. Dandette returned and looked at me like “again with the ridiculous dissertations?” and I was like “Yeah I think I brought this one on myself.”

Dandette eventually got the conversation to expand and accommodate all of us again. She got onto a whole tangent about her childhood, including mentioning having been raped as a kid and other things that seemed inappropriate to discuss with someone she’d only met once before, briefly, and couldn’t remember until tonight. She was drinking wine and it slowly occurred to me that she was pretty shitfaced (I’m slow on the uptake sometimes). She kept playfully humping my ass, trying to hump The Dandy’s ass and he sidestepped her, making comments that The Pedant might as well fuck her too because she and I already share one guy anyway so why not share all of them, making comments that she wishes I were into chicks so she and The Dandy and I could be a full triad instead of a somewhat ambiguous V. Pretty sure she was acting out because her other boyfriend recently broke up with her. In fact as The Pedant and I said our goodbyes and went back to our suite, Dandette outright told me “he’s cute and I’m jealous. Go have all the sex.”

 

 

 

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Bleh.

I swear The Dandy is making a point of avoiding being in whatever room I’m in, lately. I’m not much in the mood to hang out with him, either, so maybe it’s ridiculous that this bothers me, but it does.

We did have sex earlier. I initiated it to scratch an itch far more than out of an idea of feeling close to him, which is probably good because it felt pretty perfunctory and he left the room to watch more YouTube videos after. I know I said I like it sometimes when a guy I’m fucking is so hellbent on coming that he starts physically grabbing my hips and moving me up and down on his cock and stuff like that, but I only like it sometimes and it has to be in conjunction with me feeling emotionally intimate with the person. Today, lying under The Dandy, it struck me that he was not really trying to put any artistry into the sex at all (and he rarely ever does, really) – no buildup, no varying the pace and enjoying the journey, just thrusting away quick and steady so as to get himself off in the most utilitarian way possible. He did get me off in return afterward (although if I hadn’t expressly told him to do so, I have grave doubts that he would have). But still. This is not enough for me. I’m not happy.

Probably this is just a phase, on my part or for both of us. Probably it’s just that we’re both people who like some alone-time and sharing a bedroom is becoming a bit…wearing. Hopefully at some point the emotional part of things gets back on track, and when it does, I’ll probably be fine with the utilitarian sex again.

But today I’m annoyed and dissatisfied and I want someone who fucks me like it’s a thing we’re doing together rather than treating me as a vehicle for his ejaculation.

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The Good One

Just now, while Dandette was out for a smoke, I vented to The Dandy about all this stuff with Dandette. He doesn’t know why she makes jokes about having tried to kill herself, either. And, like me, he doesn’t feel like he can yell at her for it or point out how insensitive it is.

He did confirm a thing I’d suspected: that when she’s in a funk like this it’s usually because she feels useless, so being given tasks to do can help her. She is our self-proclaimed housewife, and one of her tasks is to make me breakfast on mornings that I have to work. When her brain goes sideways I feel like a horrible person asking for this so I’ve been letting it slide, but I realized today that she does like helping and feeling useful, so having her make breakfast might be a good thing. Like maybe she hates herself and gets no pleasure out of life right now, but if she offed herself, who would make me eggs in the morning? That sounds snarky but I’m serious. I’ve been depressed before. Sometimes little things like that are all you can cling to. So I asked her to have food ready for me at 8:15 tomorrow. And a bit later, The Dandy asked her to make dinner for us, and by the time she was done, her personality had come back and she was able to talk and stuff. And after that, as I said, she went for a smoke and I talked to The Dandy about this and he said yeah, feeling useful is a big deal to her.

I said that I’m afraid that if I ask her to do a thing and she’s in such a bad state that she doesn’t have the energy, she’ll lambast herself and feel even worse, though. The Dandy said that he’ll often obliquely hint at stuff, instead: just mention a thing that needs doing and how he’ll have to do it later because he’s busy right now. If Dandette is able to do the thing, she will, and she’ll feel better for it. If she’s not, she won’t, and no hard feelings. Genius!

Also I bitched to The Dandy about how this all brings up a bunch of baggage I have about my mom. I mean, I’ve gotten past a lot of my childhood training that I’m obligated to save and fix people, but I’m not totally over it. And it’s hard to see someone I love suffering and not be able to do anything about it.  My mom also used to tell me she was considering suicide like it was a hilarious anecdote, btw.

Tangent: the night after my big sexing of The Pedant, after The Pedant had gone home, The Dandy came home from work and I asked if he’d had a good day and if he’d had a nice night alone with Dandette while I was off gettin’ laid. He annoyingly cryptic at first and just said “no” to both things without elaborating, but eventually told me that he’d been up half the night convincing Dandette not to kill herself and taking her to the hospital and stuff.

One of the things I really love about being poly is that generally when one partner is bringing me down for whatever reason, I have someone else who can provide a sort of escape for me. Someone I can vent to if I choose or just not even talk about my other relationship at all – we can just fuck and have fun and have a relationship that’s totally independent of the other, problematic one. I was happy to step into that role with The Dandy, and he seemed glad to have me. For the moment, whatever weirdness or tension I’d been getting from him was gone and I felt close to him and as though he appreciated me. I wish that had happened for some other reason than his other girlfriend making me look like “the good one” but I suppose I’ll take what I can get.

We didn’t end up having sex that night – he was interested, but once we got naked his lack of sleep overtook him so I petted him to sleep, instead, and he seemed to revel in it. Things have been maybe kinda strained with us lately but I do love him. He loves me, too.

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Gahhhhhhhhh

Just as an aside, Dandette’s meds have stopped working or something and her brain is going badly sideways and I do not feel equipped to handle this at all.

The night I spent in the guest suite with The Pedant, she had a breakdown and threatened suicide to The Dandy, who for once (probably because of my lambasting him before) actually got professional help instead of trying to talk her down entirely himself. He drove her to a hospital. I haven’t asked either of them what they actually did for her there. But the next day she seemed tired but somewhat back to her old self. She apologized and said something about “yesterday I learned I’m too short to jump off a bridge.” I tried to play it off casually but…did she just imply that she’d tried to commit suicide via bridge-jumping and only failed because there was a really high guard rail? Like WTF am I even supposed to do with that? She’s in a fragile mental state where she’ll freak the fuck out if she thinks she’s hurt or inconvenienced anyone, so I felt like I couldn’t say something like “DON’T HARM YOURSELF GODDAMMIT BECAUSE EVEN IF YOU DON’T CARE ABOUT IT, WE DO AND THAT’S A SHITTY THING TO DO TO US” but it’s what I was thinking.

Later on, she asked The Dandy – while, it seemed to me, giving him kind of a significant look – if she could have some money to buy Polysporin. Which makes me wonder if she actually did start slashing her wrists during her meltdown and The Dandy had to physically stop her. I didn’t ask. I’m too freaked out. I can’t take this.

I had today off and I spent it mostly avoiding her/letting her come to me if she felt sociable, which she evidently did not (I knew, after her meldown, that she would vacillate between being at least kind of herself and being a tiny, stammering, timid wraith who was terrified of everyone; that’s what Insufficiently Medicated Dandette is like). At one point I heard her leave the apartment, I assume to go have a smoke, and then I heard her come back again but she didn’t go back to her bedroom to hide some more. But she didn’t turn on the tv in the living room, either. What was she doing in there? “Maybe she quietly slashed her wrists and is bleeding out on the kitchen floor,” Assholebrain suggested cheerfully, and I’m sorry, I guess I’m a horrible person, but this thought terrified me so much that I was afraid to even get up and check on her.

Eventually The Dandy came home and I heard him ask her how she was doing, so evidently she was not collapsed in a pile of blood. She’s not doing well, though. She’s in full-on terrified-of-The-Dandy-and-I mode. I quietly asked him at one point what the plan was for dinner and he said she was going to make some sausages and veggies and stuff, so while she was out for a smoke I darted into the kitchen to empty the dishwasher/clear some counter space so she’d have the space and tools to make things. She returned during this, saw me, got all bug-eyed, and whisper-stammered “Are you in the kitchen?” (Meaning I guess “have you claimed this room for the next little while? Because I was gonna use it”).

In retrospect I wish I’d said “Yeah, The Dandy said you were going to be doing some cooking so I’m just preparing the space for you. Give me ten minutes.” But instead I hurried to reassure her that she could get in there if she wanted, it doesn’t matter to me if I do this task now or later, look, see? I’m leaving right now.” This is what I always do and I’m starting to resent it. It would not technically have made any difference if I’d gotten her to wait a few minutes for me to finish what I was doing; she would cry and repeatedly whisper “I’m sorry” literally no matter what I said or did because her anxiety is not in any way rooted in logic, and I’m sure The Dandy wouldn’t have cared if dinner was ten minutes later than it might have been.

But yeah, I caved like always, and Dandette cried and whispered “I’m sorry” fifty times and flinched away from me when I passed her in the hall like she was afraid I would spit acid in her face or something, and I’m annoyed that I didn’t get to ride my momentum and finish with the kitchen completely since she would have been like that anyway.

I mean I guess what’s bugging me here is that in a bunch of my past relationships I essentially made myself smaller and smaller in order to accommodate the other person, and once I realized this was a pattern of mine, I swore to myself that I wouldn’t do it again…and now here I am, living my life entirely around avoiding being in the same room as Dandette and abandoning things I wanted to do because she wanted to use the room I was in. I know she’s going through some shit but I think I can handle it sensitively but still maintain some boundaries, and in fact I think I should maintain some boundaries.

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