Tag Archives: sex

This and that

The other day when The Dandy and I were fucking he bent to whisper something in my ear. He’s not a talker during sex and the fact that he whispered makes me think he was telling me something that made him feel really vulnerable. Unfortunately I couldn’t freaking hear him. All I caught was “mumble…feels better mumble mumble……..feels so much better.” And it was such an intimate moment that I couldn’t stand to be like “WHUT?” soooo I completely just made a sexy moaning sound and kissed him like I’d totally heard him and whatever he said had turned me on. I hope he hadn’t been asking me to change positions or something.

In other news, it’s coming up on my slow season for modelling and so I’m hustling for work. My anxiety has been rearing its ugly head lately so I haven’t been accomplishing things I really should accomplish, but tonight I sat down and emailed like ten different people all “Heyyy I haven’t posed for you in ages, wanna book me sometime soon?” and I got two gigs out of that already with hopefully more to come as people check their mail. I feel fucking awesome.

And in still other news, the pay-texting site I joined is not looking like my ticket out of poverty. 😛 Guys are saying hello to me and then just completely bailing on the convo. New members of the site get a few bucks of “money” to spend and I suspect these dudes are just wildly saying “hi” to women until their freebies run out, and then they don’t wanna pay for anything with real money. I could of course be wrong.

But like…why just say “hi” to a bunch of people and then nothing else? Are these guys waiting for something? Hoping for something? If I responded to a “hi” with a photo of my tits, would the guy be like “Yes, this is the person I want to be talking to” and use up the rest of his freebies on me instead of “hi”-ing around some more?

…I mean I’m not gonna send pics of my tits. But I’m wondering if instant sexiness is what these guys are searching for with all the “hi”s. Or actually I suppose even tits wouldn’t make them spend more money. They’d just jerk off and go to sleep and then “hi” a bunch more people hoping for more tits.


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A Lovely Valentine’s Day

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


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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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The mythical unstoppable juggernaut of male desire

Mine considers himself straight. He doesn’t want to date a man or kiss a man or touch a man. But he fetishizes fellating a man or getting an ass-pounding from one. He’s obsessed with making a guy come. Any man at all, really, but the bigger his dick, the better.*

I’ve known a number of guys with that fetish and I think it comes down to feeling desired. Straight men often don’t feel desired by women. That myth that women aren’t visual/aren’t carnal/aren’t into sex has fucked men up and made them feel as though they can’t possibly be sexy. And for whatever reason, instead of addressing that problem by adjusting their relationships with women, they seek out that feeling of desirability from other men. After all, the cultural narrative about men is that they’re all visual and carnal. Men (the stories go) never need to have feelings for someone in order to be physically intimate. Men want to stick their dicks in any pretty thing they see. They can’t even control it.

And so a small subsection of men starts kinking on the idea of being consumed by another man’s desire, of being used as a pretty, pretty object. They kink on the idea of unstoppable male desire even though they are men so they know men’s libidos aren’t really so indomitable.

The other day it occurred to me that often, once it’s clear to a man that I’m visual and carnal, he expects me to be the same type of always-on, ludicrous, frothing horndog that society purports men to be. Why men so often see physical desire in others as all-or-nothing like that I can’t fathom. But yeah. A few times, I’ve accidentally created a monster: tell a dude he’s hot a few times and suddenly he’s strutting into the room like “Okay, here’s my hot body. You may commence behaving like that wolf from the Tex Avery cartoon now.” But the thing is I’m just not that wolf all the time. If I’m in a sexual headspace, absolutely. Aroooooooo. If I’m distracted or something, though, I can’t always shift gears instantly, y’know? But I don’t wanna hurt the guy’s feelings so I end up faking it a little. It sucks because I genuinely do find my partners attractive, and I want them to know it, but then the weight of all their expectations and pent-up feelings ends up pushing me into performing desire that I’m not necessarily feeling.

I’ve only hooked up with The Dandy twice but already I can sense his self-concept of his body shifting from utilitarian over (tremulously, tentatively) to aesthetic. He’s always (he told me) been a nudist, and was comfortable being naked in front of me, but by the end of our recent time together his nudity had taken on a slightly different aspect, a sort of prickly awareness that I might be admiring him. His body was no longer this ignored shell, this means to an end; it was being seen.

I love creating and witnessing that shift. And I think men deserve to feel desired and am happy to do my part. But shit, some of them have so much pent-up neediness around the whole “being desired” thing and it all comes up at once and suddenly I feel like there’s a spotlight on me and I have to act stupefied by lust every single minute or their hearts will shatter. Let’s hope that doesn’t happen here.


*Pretty sure it’s because an erection is a symbol of his desire and to Mine (and many others), a bigger erection equates to more desire (hey maybe this is why some people fetishize trans women, too). Or, alternately, men are supposedly the carnal ones and having a penis is supposedly the defining physical trait of a man, so “more penis” equals “more man” equals “more sex drive”. (I’m not saying I believe penis equals man; I don’t. But for most of us, our first basic sex talk started with “boys have a weewee and girls have a hooha” or whatever, so the idea that gender is determined by genitals gets ingrained in us pretty young and needs to be unlearned.)

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Hoo boy.

I’ve been missing The Pedant a lot lately, or at least missing how he was when he was actually making an effort in the relationship. I’m a bit starved for sex and touch and D/s lately and also I miss feeling cared for. Bugs the shit out of me that The Pedant finally told me he loved me on the night we broke up. Better late than never, and I knew for ages that he felt it anyway without him having said it, but still…I would like to have had more time to revel in the fact that he finally said the words. But honestly I think he did things that way on purpose. He has a hard time saying “I love you” to anyone and it was probably easier to do it knowing he’d never be expected to say it again or prove it through his actions or anything. And/or he said it to keep me on the hook.

Anyway. As much as I feel our breakup was for the best, I’ve been feeling sad and nostalgic and vulnerable lately…and The Pedant just texted me offering to come over tomorrow and help me with some tech support on my laptop, and I said yes.

This is bringing up some thoughts and feelings for me.

First off, tomorrow is Christmas day. I spend Christmas alone at home and every fucking year that The Pedant and I were together, I invited him to come hang with me since he hates his family. And every single year he said no. Usually he contrived to be working that day, but that still left him free in the evening and he’d always end up doing the family dinner thing- texting me throughout to tell me how much he hated it – instead of coming over. I don’t understand why he would subject himself to his family when he didn’t have to but whatever, I like being alone – that part didn’t bother me.


(Recently-ish, he was spouting off some bravado bullshit about how he may live with his parents but he’s cowed them into submission and does whatever he feels like doing. I called him out on this, citing those Christmas dinners – clearly he does feel some fear and/or obligation with regards to his parents. And he outright lied to me and claimed that he hasn’t done the family dinner thing in years. Never try to pull this shit on someone with OCD and an eidetic memory. You will fail.)

Anyway after something like five years of inviting him over on Xmas and him saying no, suddenly he’s volunteering – but only after we’ve broken up. This feels a bit like deathbed repentance to me. Like it took us breaking up for him to suddenly realize that I’m not happy with how low I am on his priority list so now he’s putting in effort.

…Or, maybe it’s just a coincidence, who the fuck knows.

Another thought: I kinda want to fuck him.  And I don’t see him turning me down if I made my move. But really, in having sex with him I’d mostly be chasing the feelings I had back when things were good between us. I didn’t mind the horribly one-sided selfish sex when The Pedant was fully engaged with my life and doing sweet things for me outside of bed all the time. But that all stopped ages ago – as in months before we even broke up – and I kept on having sex with him that was shitty and one-sided, hoping to recapture the previous magic, but usually I just felt vaguely disappointed. I mean it’s fun to make him go all breathless and squrimy; it does play into my sense of dominance in a pleasing way. But he just…accepts that the natural order of things is that sex revolves entirely around him and his pleasure and it doesn’t even occur to him to question that or like touch me back without specifically being asked. And to top it off he falls asleep after in the middle of the bed. Every time. When I pointed out that, like, I sleep there too so could he maybe make room for me instead of passing out spread-eagled, he said “Just push me over.” Oh, so you’re not even gonna……okay then.

So like…I want to fuck him, I think (possibly seeing him in person will kill that urge, hard to say) but also I feel like that will just frustrate and disappoint me, and that he doesn’t deserve my awesome sexings. My awesome sexings are for boys who treat me nice. Nicer than he has been. So there.

But if I want to do a thing it seems silly to deny myself in order to punish him. And I can try to make the sex more egalitarian, if it happens. Chances are he’ll be on his best behaviour and trying to impress me so he might not immediately subside into a passive, laundry-like heap the moment I touch him. And if I do fuck him and wind up disappointed, that’ll just help me get over him faster.

Also! Dude has a huuuuuge thing for forbidden fruit/the thrill of the chase. With us ostensibly being “just friends” I bet he’ll just be dyyyyying to get the sex he’s not supposed to have with me. And I can fuck with him and wind him up and see how far I can push him before he snaps and admits he wants me. That would be satisfying as hell – in some ways more so if I can actually manage to keep it in my pants and be like “No, this is not a good idea, I can’t afford to get attached to you again because [list of things he does or doesn’t do].” Because, see, if I do that, he might actually change his behaviour in order to win me back (he did all kinds of things for a different ex that he wanted but couldn’t have).

If I were to actually take him back he’d probably start to suck again, but if I can kinda stay just out of reach (metaphorically), dangling the possibility of him making me fall for him again but never quite granting it…I bet I could make him jump through some hoops for me. And that would surely undo a lot of the feelings of misery and neglect he caused when we were together.

Of course, it’s possible he’s moved on and won’t actually be up for anything but providing the tech support he offered. Not likely, but possible. And so I’m kinda stressing out about that, too.

Not to mention stressing out about the fact that he’ll probably be late. Or maybe even end up fucking around at home for so long that he decides he’d better not come over at all.

I’m gonna try my best to just live my life tomorrow and not obsess on checking my texts etc but I’m not great at that – typically if I have plans of any kind for later in the day it’s impossible for me to do anything but pace around waiting for them to start, for some reason. I’m getting a bit better about that as I work at improving my physical and mental health but I’m by no means perfect. So we’ll see what happens.




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The Talk

So here’s how it went down.

The Pedant arrived a while after I got home. We greeted each other without touching and he set about transferring files from my almost-dead laptop onto a memory stick for me. After a few minutes I said we really oughta get the talking over with. I asked him if he had anything to say to me – I had a spiel prepared for him about how ridiculous he’s been being but if he already knew it then I wanted to give him a chance to say so. Or if he decided to defend his behaviour I could just skip to the middle of my spiel and save time.

Somewhat surprisingly, what he had to say was: “I think we should take a break from the relationship for a while. You haven’t done anything wrong, or anything. But there are some little things that have been bothering me and I need to by on my own and process them and figure out where we go from there.”

“I agree that a break is a good idea,” I said. In a way it was like seriously? YOU have issues with ME?!? because I do the lion’s share of the emotional work in the relationship and have let a lot of shitty things slide with him. But mostly I was relieved. I haven’t been happy with him in a while now, and yet it feels like it would take so little to get me happy again that I didn’t want to give up on the relationship entirely – not unless he refused to do those little things. I think perhaps that’s where he’s at right now – deciding if he’s willing or capable of giving me what I need. So fair enough. A break seemed like an excellent idea.

I gave him my spiel about his ridiculousness.He still can’t see or won’t admit that he was gaslighting me and threatening me. He still alleges that saying, in effect, “Every time someone requests what you’ve requested, I end up hating them” is just him innocuously letting me know how his mind works. Whatever.

He also alleged that he exploded in a fit of pique because he was upset to realize how much his lateness had upset me. “Upset like angry that I’d complained, or upset like sad that I was going through some stuff?” he said the latter. I said I didn’t get this at all. We’ve had plenty of other times when I had issues with him and he knew how to react at those times: validate my feelings, express sorrow that I’m feeling that way, discuss how to make it better. So what was different this time? He just kept on saying the difference this time was that he was upset, he was upset, why wasn’t I listening to him? I was like yeah I get that but you’ve never reacted that way any of the other times that he’d hurt my feelings or whatever. So what. Was. The difference?

Eventually I gathered the difference was that he saw this as a much bigger, much more relationship-threatening issue than any of the others. Him being late all the time is apparently a fundamental part of his identity or something, and when he realized that I’m one of those weirdos who wants their partner to do what he says he’s gonna do, he felt a sense of dread like it was totally gonna kill the relationship. So he freaked out, I guess.

I pointed out that it’s not like I’d made an ultimatum of “be exactly on time or GTFO,” for Pete’s sake. I’d told him that getting keys cut would alleviate most of the stress I’d been feeling, and for the rest of it I just wanted an inkling that he was starting to work on the underlying habits that cause him to be late for things. He kept saying something along the lines that the punctuality thing was just such a huge difference in our outlooks on life that it was probably gonna doom us.

I went back to the key cutting thing again. It had been over a month since I’d asked for that. I’d told him that I was unhappy and getting keys cut would make me exponentially happier. So…why didn’t he…? It would have taken a few minutes out of his life. He claimed that he was just working so darned much and so tired and blah blah blah. I was like “you work right downtown. You could have even popped out on your lunch break.” He claimed that he’s obligated to eat lunch on the premises. I somewhat wonder if he’s lying to me. I could swear he’s talked about going out to buy lunch before. And he said that after work he’s so tired he just doesn’t feel like doing anything but going straight home. “Okay, well, the fact that you chose not to take the five minutes to do this simple thing for me makes me feel like I’m unimportant to you,” I said. “As does the fact that it took you this long to come talk things out, really.”

“I’ve been working fourteen hour days!”

“You managed to get out to a concert, though, didn’t you?” I said, and he looked absolutely guilty and caught out. He stammered something about how having a relationship talk with someone is a lot more taxing than going to a concert. I let that one go without comment but honestly? I don’t give a shit that talking things out is taxing. We wouldn’t have had to even do that if he’d responded to my simple fucking request with “Oh, I’m sorry you’ve been feeling that way, I didn’t realize. I’ll get keys cut as soon as I can” instead of deluging me with a bunch of defensive bullshit and insults.

I did point out to him how absolutely weird it is that he did the deluge-of-bullshit on me apparently because he was upset that I was upset. I’d told him what it would take to make me not be upset anymore; if he was so horrified that I was feeling that way, he could have just…fixed it. Instead, he obsessed on the specific wording I’d used like he was trying to make me feel stupid about it. I may have mocked his text messages a little bit: “A tightness in your chest? I can’t believe you’ve been feeling a tightness in your chest. I just can’t get my head around that.Feeling tightness in your chest over this just seems so extreme to me. Tightness! In your chest! Well I’ll be darned.” And meanwhile I’D TOLD HIM EXACTLY HOW TO MAKE IT GO AWAY AND HE DIDN’T DO IT.

I said, “You told me recently that you’ve been having a hard time with visiting me because your cat allergies are so severe – which you never told me before, by the way, and that’s why I hadn’t done anything about it sooner. Most of my friends with cat allergies get a red itchy nose when a cat actually rubs up against their face, but otherwise they’re fine. I assumed that’s how it was with you. But when you told me that actually just the amount of shed cat fur on the couch and bed makes your skin sting and burn, I was like ‘oh shit I had no idea’ and guess what? Since the last time you were here I vacuumed, wiped down the walls with a microfiber cloth, and bought a $200 HEPA certified air purifier. What I did not do was sit here saying to you ‘stinging and burning? Gosh, I can’t even imagine that. Stinging! And burning! From cat fur? Really? Oh my stars!'”

I point-blank suggested that if he was so upset about making me upset then maybe, just as a wacky idea, he could try apologizing. I can’t remember how he deflected, but deflect he did.

During a lull in the conversation, while he continued pecking away at the computer saving my files and I sat on the couch next to him staring off into space feeling vaguely pissed off, he said that at the time that I brought up the punctuality thing, he’d been feeling as though things were going really well with us, and that I’ve been really good to him, so that’s why realizing that there was this big issue threw him for a loop. I told him that just for the record I’d been making accommodations for his lateness as best I could, and also trying not to make a big thing of it because I know the bad habits are super ingrained and that shaming him would only make him feel bad, not make him “snap out of it” and never be late again. He said he is fully aware that I’d been doing all of that. I’d actually had no idea he even knew how much effort I put into the emotional side of things to keep us running smoothly. He seems so oblivious to, well, everything ever. Hell, maybe he was lying right then to ingratiate himself to me. It did kinda work. I mean it was nice to hear that he sees me as treating him well and respects the effort I put in and stuff.

Really though my feeling from our whole conversation was that he was feeling whiny and petulant at the idea of having to put effort into the relationship. And I mean I don’t believe relationships should be horrible grueling work all the time or anything but they do always take a little work, even when you match up with someone really well. And I’m just not sure he’s up for it. He may very well rather be single than try to change his habits even one little bit. He’s made some concessions for me before – calling me when he knew I needed help with something, remembering to keep me better apprised of what’s up with his other relationships after I told him I needed it – but asking him to try not to be late anymore is a bit different.

During the course of our whole conversation he kept saying that he just can’t understand people who are super into punctuality and need someone to be precisely on time for everything. Every time this came up – every. fucking. time – I said “I’m not asking you to be perfectly on time for everything ever. I’m saying it would be nice if you arrived within, say, half an hour or an hour of when you said you would instead of texting me five different times saying ‘whoops, I’m gonna need another hour.'”

At one point he said that he just really hates feeling rushed and I was like “Ummmm yeah no when you make a plan to see me in four days, that is in no way you being rushed. You have four days in which to pack your bag at a leisurely pace, decide what time you need to get up that day and plan to get enough sleep accordingly, plot out a time to leave that allows some ‘wiggle room’ in case public transit fucks up somehow, etc. If I said ‘let’s go to a movie that starts in two hours!’ that would be you feeling rushed. But usually we make plans ahead of time, and it’s not my problem that your time management skills suck.”

We did have a pretty illuminating conversation about his attitude toward lateness, though – one I wish we’d had sooner. He kept saying that he doesn’t care if other people are late. I was like “Yeah I really doubt you have anyone who does to you what you do to me.” he said that he does have at least one friend who ends up being hours later than planned, and he just waits in the coffee shop with a book or whatever. I pointed out that a man sitting alone in public can generally do his own thing and be left alone, but when I try to sit alone in public, every horny dude and assorted weirdo assumes that I’m there to entertain them and they come over and talk to me. Which is why I told The Pedant years ago that I will not meet him in public places anymore; he has to come here. But even then, I often want to go get groceries or something and put it off because I’m expecting him any minute and I need to let him in. And then of course he ends up being late and by the time his dumb ass gets here, the store is closed. He asked me why I didn’t just go to the store, then. I said “well, what would you do when you got here?” he said he’d sit in my porch with a book and wait for me and it wouldn’t be a big deal to him.

It had not occurred to me that this is what would happen if I were out when he arrived. TBH, since he’s always doing the “whoops it’ll be another hour” thing, I’ve felt as though he couldn’t possibly have been looking forward to seeing me all that much, and therefore if he got here and learned that I wouldn’t be home for another half hour he’d just be like “Oh, then I guess I’ll just go home or hang out with my other friend instead, then.” Or, “Okay then I’ll just go do something else for a bit to pass the time.” And lord knows every time he even has one errand to run on the way to seeing me, it turns into some whole huge odyssey. So I figured if he went to entertain himself in some way because I wasn’t home yet, he’d end up out for another eight hours and come back to my place having sold his knapsack for some magic beans or I don’t even know what the fuck, and I’d have even less time with him.

I told him all of that and he was all baffled because it hadn’t occurred to him that I was thinking that way at all. And he said that his lateness thing isn’t a reflection on how important I am or how much he wants to see me. Which I believe is true – I’ve seen him be late for his own birthday party on several occasions and I know he’s constantly late for work, too – he’s late for everything. It’s not just me. But I still can’t get my head around it. When I have plans to hang out with someone I like, I wake up thinking “Yay! I’m gonna hang out with ___ today!” My own time management skills aren’t the best, plus sometimes my anxiety makes going outside scary, but worst case scenario I end up fifteen minutes late because I couldn’t find a clean shirt or something. I don’t languish around the house for five hours after I was supposed to have left like The Pedant does. So I just don’t get it. I don’t know if he gets my point of view, either. But at least we both aired our side of things.

At some point during all of this, The Pedant said “I assume that if we’re on a break you’ll want your keys back?”

I was like “Meh…it’s not like you’re gonna use them to sneak in here and stick my toothbrush up your ass or something.”

“Yeah, exactly,” he agreed. “We’re friends. Lots of friends have each other’s keys. And hey, if I have your keys it would mean I could come by sometimes while you’re at work and keep on working on this file transfer process for you.”

And I glowed to think that he would still want to do things for me – would still offer his puppyish devotion – even if we weren’t going out anymore.

So hey, here’s a gigantic milestone: after most of our talking/venting was done and we were just sitting in relatively companionable silence, he said “No matter what ends up happening, I do love you.” That’s the first time he’s ever directly told me that. I never thought he would, but I’d hoped. Oh, how I’d hoped. I didn’t wanna make a huge deal of it because he’d probably feel all awkward so I just whispered “same” and kissed him.

If you’ve been reading this blog a while and have an idea of who I am and what my relationship with The Pedant is like, you’ll have already guessed that we ended up having sex that night. I like to know when I’m having sex with someone for the last time (or the last time in a while, as the case may be).

The sex was somewhat disappointing – predictably so. I felt distant from him because of all the shit that’s gone down so I was mostly in it to manipulate his reactions and make him all sex-drunk and helpless so I could get back a feeling of control. Also, when The Pedant is at the top of his game with doing me favours and taking me out to eat and calling me just to say hi and stuff, I feel loved and I therefore fuck him from a place of love. He’s mostly withdrawn all of that lately, which means I’m not feeling especially loving toward him, which means the one-sided quality of our typical encounters really stands out for me and irritates me. When I’m feeling in love with The Pedant I have sex with him because I feel so much joy and love for him that I wanna just lavish it all over his body. When I’m not feeling so in love, I’m having the sex for its own sake. And on a purely physical level The Pedant doesn’t make things very mutually satisfying, so…

Foreplay just doesn’t occur to him at all. Which is weird because I know he knows the concept – after all, I spend so much time touching him and getting him all worked up. But no, he’ll absent-mindedly caress me as we watch a movie or he’ll massage that one spot on my back where I carry a lot of tension, seemingly just to earn my praise. But I cannot remember him ever caressing me for extended periods of time when sex was in the offing.

So sure enough I spend half an hour or more on my couch, kissing and stroking his body until he’s moaning and humping the air, and then we move into the bedroom and he said “I think we’d better take care of you first” meaning “let’s just directly start stimulating your genitals and get you off so I won’t have to do it later when I’m all stupid from coming.” Fine, whatever. I had him fuck me with my favourite dildo and then his fingers while I used the Hitachi. Despite feeling distant and despite wishing he’d put the same kind of effort into making my body happy that I do with his, I did come three times.

The Pedant was being a little too toppy-from-the-bottom for my taste. He knows better than to tell me to do anything, but he kept doing that passive-aggressive thing of couching everything as something I’d like. “Do you want to gag me? I know how much you love the way it looks on me” blah blah blah. He asked “would you like me to wear anything?” and TBH I spaced out and had no idea what that even meant. He doesn’t own any sex clothes and it’s not like he had outfits with him. Then I remembered that I own a butt plug so I had him wear that. The plug was in the same drawer as his collar, and he automatically put that on – the collar was probably what he’d meant to begin with. I hadn’t told him to put that on and it irked me that he did so anyway. I really wasn’t getting the kind of dominant buzz I wanted.

I fingered his ass a while to get him ready for the plug, then inserted it, then rode him until he orgasmed. My vag felt sore and beaten up from the dildoing earlier (he always tries to do a bunch of fancy angles and shit. I keep telling him, just go straight in and out. You don’t have to scrape off all the walls or anything. But he still does it). So I guess it’s a good thing that he came fairly quickly, given that my innards felt all raw. But I wish his cock had felt good to me and I wish I could have savoured it for longer.

Got a good front row seat on his O-face, though. As he started to come he grabbed my hips like he always does (if his hands are free), trying to stop me from moving. But I know if I continue it’ll give him a longer and better climax so I kept moving on him – but slowly – and I lightly fingered his nipples at the same time. When he starts to come, that initial contraction always makes him rear his head up off the bed. I made him rear up three more times and his face crumpled as though he was about to cry. It was hot.

He rolled away from me to go to sleep, and didn’t cuddle me much during the night. Certainly he didn’t glom onto me every single minute like he usually does. Maybe he was already preparing to detach from me emotionally. He seemed slightly distant in the morning, too. I came up to hug him, wanting to feel the length of his naked body against mine before I got dressed to go to my morning therapy session, and he let me but didn’t immediately open his arms as soon as he saw me coming like usual. Every little thing I did – kissing him on the cock before I got out of bed, coming to hug him as he stood naked checking his texts – I started wondering if that was one of the annoying things he needed a break from.

He takes forever to get ready and I had to go, so I left first. On the bus I abruptly decided that I wanted my keys back from him, after all. I’m angry that he mostly refused to use them and then acted like he wanted them now. Too late. Also his talk of using them to come do things for me began to feel like a power play – he knows I melt at acts of service, and has made a lot of promises recently that he hasn’t kept. It felt like maybe he just wanted to keep me on the hook so I’d be ready to receive him any time he decided he wanted to be dating me again. No. I need to take time away. I need to close this book without a bookmark in it. So I texted him saying actually yeah please leave the keys. He did.

He texted me letting me know where the keys were and telling me that he’d see me soon in order to keep helping me with tech support. And he said he might be able to get me a new power cable for my laptop if I let him know the info off the one I already have (which is being shared between two laptops, hence the need for a second one). Again, it feels like he’s trying to keep me on the hook. Or even if he isn’t, I need time. I can’t just segue from dating into friendship immediately. So for now I’m not responding. I thanked him for the keys and wished him the best of luck with the soul searching he’s needing to do and that’s it.







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Word nerd

So, this happened over the weekend while Mine and I test-drove the new bed (*cough*).

Me: Less vigorous, please.

Mine: This is only one.

Me: I said “vigorous.”

Mine: Oh. I thought you said “fingers.”

Me: No, I know, I picked up on that. [Pause] For the record, though, “fewer fingers” would be the correct form of that request, not “less fingers”. Even at a time like this I’d never use such terrible grammar.

Mine: [Chuckling] Noted.

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