Pages

Friday, November 28, 2014

Yeah, you caught me looking

Since I really had already mentally checked out of work, I started spending even more time dicking off while I was on the clock. Yes, this meant a lot of being on OK Cupid. I know. Please, don't ever hire me to do anything because it probably won't be done the way you want. My friends used to joke that I should just give up trying and become someone's trophy wife and let them buy me a boob job (I'd definitely need that to be a trophy wife. I'm a 34A.), but I'm pretty sure that's not what I went to college for.

Anyway, I had pretty much finished my profile and was spending a lot of time gazing around various men in Chicago. There was someone with an impish grin that practically stopped my heart in its tracks, who I wrote to and asked if we could be pen pals until I moved. He said yes, and we chatted for a few messages, but then the banter stopped, and I felt pretty discouraged. Most of the messages I got were total washes--misspelled crude bullshit from people who would not really have liked me in real life. I'm kind of high maintenance in relationships because I like a lot of attention from a guy I'm dating, which is yet another reason poly works so well for me. It's a relief to guys when they don't have to be responsible for providing for all my wants and needs, and etc. Likewise, it's really nice when someone I'm dating has another partner(s) because it takes some of the stress off of ME to be able to give them everything they want. I don't really believe two people can fulfill each other 100%, if I did, I probably wouldn't be poly.

I kept seeing this one profile in my Ok Cupid homepage under "best matches for you". He was pretty cute but looked like a major pothead, had the same smirk in all of his photos, and lived in Chicago. I looked at his profile a few times, and gave him 4/5 stars (if you both give each other 4 or 5, you get an email telling you that "It's a match!"). He seemed very full of himself by the way he wrote his descriptions, but I figured we must be a close match on all the questions. Maybe worth talking to when I was out there, maybe worth going on a date or two with? He did seem really intelligent, and funny, and appeared to have the same outlook on career (aka none) that I did, so it's not like I'd get dumped for being unambitious (yes, this has happened).

Over the time I normally took to eat lunch, I went next door to a tattoo shop and asked if there was any way I could get something done that afternoon. I'd always wanted an infinity symbol on my arm (it's a known poly symbol, I'm a math nerd, I'm a big believer in eternity, etc.) and now felt like a good time to get one since I was about to be leaving an ultra-conservative work environment. They were able to squeeze me in that afternoon, and as always, it was quite fun. I love getting tattoos--I even like the pain, a little bit. The guy who was doing my ink ALSO had Chicago connections--he spent 6 months out of the year there, and designs labels for a cool brewery that's around Chitown. I figured it was a sign and flirted like hell with him, but he remained very professional. Sigh.

On Friday evening, Patrick and I decided to have a bonfire in the backyard and drink beer and celebrate my new tattoo. This was the kind of thing we used to do all the time, and I really missed it. He went to go Skype with Kelly (his gf) for a while, and I went to play on my laptop until it got dark outside. I had a message from that guy on OK Cupid who I thought looked like a (cute) stoner.

"Good evening! I noticed that you visited my profile, and since you seem groovy (and I have a huge preference for dating polyamorous women), I figured I'd drop you a line."

Well. Ok. You caught me. Game on. Now I had to write something back. Hmm.. time to be quick and snappy and flirty, because damnit, I have a bonfire to attend shortly.

"Good evening to you,

I did visit your profile (which left me in a somewhat admiring state, must admit), and I'm glad you messaged me. I can appreciate all sorts of general nerdiness, especially of the creative variety. 

This thing seems to think we'd get along quite well, I may be inclined to agree."

(I had a line about liking nerds on my profile. It's only true because most smart people call themselves nerds.) His message seemed kind of unambitious, though, and he listed himself as "single" which was kind of a red flag. I don't like to date people who aren't also dating other people, because then I worry I'm not going to be able to give THEM enough attention. But messaging can't hurt. And I would need friends (and "friends") in Chicago.

At this point, I'd had a few beers and was dancing around "my" room to Queens of the Stone Age. Patrick knocked around 8pm.

"Hey, grab a jacket and come on. I put more beer for you in the fridge,"

"Be right there!!" Grabbing a hoodie and my boat shoes, I practically ran through the kitchen and out the sliding doors, where Patrick was building a fire in the backyard pit. I stole his camp chair because it was more comfy than mine, and pulled it up close to the blaze, warming my legs and feet.

"How're tricks?" he asked, cocking one eyebrow at me.

"Not bad,.." I filled him in on how work was still sucking my soul out, guys I was talking to, Garrett, etc. We hadn't spent as much time together since the post-NIN fight, and hadn't slept together since the first night I'd moved in. I made sure to ask about Kelly, and Patrick's work (research), and it felt very natural. Very much like old times. My phone buzzed a couple of times, and I looked down to see that I had a new message from New Guy in Chicago. Not wanting to be a total ass, I skimmed it and then put my phone away. He had basically written me a book, about his identity, and dreams and art and cooking and things to do in the city, and I felt my stomach jump higher and tighten itself after I finished reading it. I already wanted to sneak a second look at it, but didn't feel like explaining to Patrick since he basically already thought I was a terrible person.

We had a great time that night, drinking outside and dancing around the fire (I made Patrick take a picture of me at one point for my profile). I couldn't stop thinking about New Guy, though. Typical, I know.

As I was going to sleep that night, nested in my familiar blankets in my unfamiliar space, I kept reading and rereading his message to me and trying to think about what I'd say back. I felt very anxious about the whole thing, which is a pretty unusual sign for me. I'm very chatty, especially after drinking beer all night. And also very honest: I'm a HORRIFIC liar, and finding other candid people is always a serious blessing. Which is why one of his paragraphs was so interesting to me, in particular.

"My thing with poly has always been this (and finding people who are on the same wavelength can be SOOOOO frustrating and rare, as I’m sure you can imagine): I was simply born without whatever nut, bolt, or screw people are supposed to have that makes them jealous. It’s just not in me. My way of looking at it is, if I really love someone—or even just deeply like them enough to fully trust and believe in them (which, in my world, is much the same thing most of the time)—then what difference does it make to me what they do with other people? Does the fact that they kiss, cuddle, or shag someone else mean they don’t genuinely love me and want to be with me? Of course not. It CAN mean that, sure, but if those issues exist, monogamy certainly doesn’t make them magically go away…it just makes the other person keep it secret, and then it’s the lying that becomes the real fight, and blah blah blah. I cheated on plenty of people in my life, and odds are, so has the person I’m with, whether they feel like admitting to it or not; or at least they’ve WANTED to, and denying themselves what they want seems dumb and just leads to greater resentment. So why not just admit that it’s a silly rule and do away with it, treat things on a case-by-case basis instead?"

This was definitely refreshing. Most people I know really struggle with jealousy. Including myself. Hmm. Did I believe him? Do you?


Tuesday, November 25, 2014

So much frustration

Living at Patrick's house was taking some getting used to, but I liked it so far. The third night I was there, we went to see a Nine Inch Nails concert out in Bumfuck, Virginia, and got into a gigantic drunken fight on the way home. We're so classy, I know. After that, the dynamic was a little different--but I have to add, this was typical for us because we were always bickering about some dumb new thing. After the NIN fight, I moved my stuff into a temporarily empty room and started sleeping on a borrowed mattress pad. The house had a lot of turnover in roommates because people generally only wanted to live with 5 other dudes for a year. Who could imagine, right? I was in the empty room until a brand new grad student moved in, which was going to coincide with my last week in DC. Kind of not the most convenient, but whatever. Patrick was letting me stay there for free, and I couldn't really abuse that too much.

Being in the spare room meant a lot of alone time, though. I'd come home from work (I work for a swanky private religious university, shocking, I know), start drinking, and hang out with my laptop in the living room. I fooled around with my dating profile a lot. Mr. Bowtie (Garrett) had written back to me, and I'd found out that he was actually FROM Chicago, which was great because it gave me a ton of things to bullshit about with him. I hate smalltalk so fucking much, so this really turned out to be a good opportunity. After a few days of messaging back and forth had gone by and he still hadn't asked me out, I was starting to get a little pissy though. Didn't I make this profile for a reason? ugh. Fucking men. I messaged him first, did I have to ask him out first too? (I hate asking people out. Unless I'm drunk.)

In the middle of the week, I got a shorter-than-usual message from Garrett asking if I wanted to hit up Meridian Pint (awesome beer bar) for "the last time" (yeah right, I planned on doing a huge pub crawl before I left, but Garrett had no way of knowing this). I agreed, and we planned to meet there after work on Thursday.

I hate going on dates after work because, well, no one addresses this, but I don't really feel super fresh at the end of the day. I like to shower at night, or when I come home from work, and going on a date with someone right after work means I'm probably going to have stubbly legs or whatever. I feel like no one talks about this, which is also super aggravating, but whatever. On Thursday morning, I didn't wear any makeup into work, but I brought my makeup kit, dental floss, and a rollerball of Prada Candy in my bag. Work was pretty agonizing at this point--everyone knew I was leaving, but I wasn't really getting any slack cut my way. I should probably point out right now that this blog may not be very "career heavy" because to me, a job is a way to make ends meet and pay the bills and let me do fun things. Business really bores me, which is why I work for a university, but trust me, it's not very different than working for a corporation. The real world is pretty fucking boring sometimes.

Towards the end of the day, I did my makeup in the work bathroom and then left to meet Garrett. It was nice outside so I thought I'd walk but the walk turned out to be a lot longer than I expected and then I started getting anxious about being late/looking awful because I had started sweating. It didn't matter since I still beat him to the bar, though. I grabbed two barstools and threw my black Celine mini luggage onto one of them, hoping that I wouldn't look like too huge of a dick until he showed up and I could move my giant purse. Luckily, I didn't have to wait long. Garrett looked to be about 6", with great eyes and a great smile. He also smelled good, which I told him as soon as I sat down in a way that I didn't mean to be flirtatious, but probably came off that way anyway. Oh well.

"What are you drinking, is it any good?" he asked, pointing at my beer.

"This is the Allagash Fluxus, it's good but a little sweet for me. Want some?" I held up my glass and Garrett obediently tried it. He seemed really nervous, which was weird. Poly people usually aren't super shy, or nervous. They tend to be pretty confident and extroverted people, or at least good at faking it. Being poly means doing a lot of talking about your feelings, so any awkwardness goes away pretty fast.

We talked about being poly for a while (another thing poly people love to do) and consciously, I could feel myself getting a little buzzed. Garrett was very, very adorable in person, with longish blond hair and suuuuuuuper long eyelashes and then those adorable hipster bowties. He told me that he and his girlfriend had been together for about 5 years, some of that long distance, which is how they started being nonmonogamous in the first place. It was kind of standard, first-date talk. I wasn't feeling a ton of sparks with him, but he was cute. He was definitely someone I could see myself dating for a while, but not getting too attached, but having a lot of fun with. He also had a Top Secret Clearance for whatever he did for work (he told me once and I forgot, and then I was embarrassed to ask again), which did kind of add a fun, naughty, sexy vibe to the whole thing.

"It's getting dark outside, I should probably head home soon," I didn't mention that I already knew I was going to have to pee a million times after taking the metro back to Patrick's house, and that I didn't have too much money to spend being out since I was saving for the move. Garrett pouted.

"This is the first time I've been out with someone in a long time, you're not really like a lot of other girls in DC,.. in a good way, I mean," he said, actually staring into my eyes for once. Score! I think I actually blushed, too. Aw.

"You're not like a lot of guys around here, either. I hate the whole Young Republican Grown Up thing that people do. And ew.. don't even get me started on all those weirdo summer intern guys," I started laughing, tipsy, and thank god he started laughing too.

"Which direction are you headed in? Can I walk you?"

"Columbia Heights, and definitely." I smiled. This had been my real "first date" in a while, and it had gone better than I was thinking it could have.

As we were leaving, Garrett offered me in his arm in kind of a mock-sincere way, but I took it, just because I was enjoying the feeling of being half drunk with a mostly-stranger who smelled delicious. I realized how ridiculous we probably looked as we trooped down the sidewalk, but it was enjoyable. Because it was a weeknight after 8pm, there was naturally a 15-minute wait for the trains. Garrett was going in the opposite direction, because he lived on Capitol Hill and I was going back to the side of DC closer to Maryland.

"Tonight was great, I'm really glad you could make time to see me before you go," Garrett started. We'd spent a substantial portion of the evening talking about my leaving, which I felt bad about. I promise I did try to ask him questions about himself, though. He was very smart. That much was obvious.

"I did too, we should hang out again if we can," What did I say earlier about only being okay with asking people out when I'm drunk?

Garrett stepped closer to me and ohmygod, he smelled so fucking good. I couldn't place it, it wasn't cologne, it had to be some kind of soap. So much for not being fresh after work, ha. I bit my lower lip and stared up at him, in what I hoped was kind of a 'come hither' way. It worked, because he leaned down to kiss me.

Not surprisingly, he was an amazing kisser. I felt him gently sucking on my lower lip and running the tip of his tongue gently inside of my mouth. Very sexy, but gentlemanly at the same time. I normally hate hate hate PDA, but whatever, I was moving in a month and none of these people would see me again, right? I wrapped my arms around him and kissed him back, a little harder. His mouth was so soft, and I love the taste of beer on a guy I'm kissing. Maybe just because I like beer, but there's something kind of undeniably masculine about it, too. I knew the other people in the metro station were probably very uncomfortable, but for once I really did not give a fuck. We kept kissing (not groping, I'm not a fucking teenager) until I heard a train approaching. It was his, and he had to run to make it before the doors closed.

After he left, I leaned against one of the columns, closing my eyes and grinning. I was definitely tipsy, but that had just been very pure and fun. When I opened my eyes, I caught a family staring at me, but I still didn't care.


--


"Nice date?" Patrick was in the kitchen when I got home, humming and waltzing around with a beer in his hand.

"Yes. He's super cute. Look." Bless him, he made an effort to look at the picture I was shoving under his nose. He was in the middle of slicing some carrots and potatoes, probably for a late dinner. Patrick is a really, really excellent cook.

"What are you up to now?" Not looking at me, Patrick dumped the cutting board of veggies into a boiling pot of something on stove that smelled heavenly.

"I dunno, was going to hang out and read, maybe? Get another beer? Do you want to watch Breaking Bad?"

"I can't, Skyping with Kelly at 9." His tone was shorter this time.

"What, are you pissed that I didn't automatically say "hang out with you?'" Patrick didn't answer, just set a timer on the stove

"Nope. You just got home kinda late to do that," Really? 8:40 is late now? I sighed, and willed myself to count to ten in my head. Repeat silently, Patrick is argumentative, Patrick is argumentative, Patrick is argumentative..

"Ok. Well, I'll be around the next couple of nights. Let's go grocery shopping tomorrow and watch stuff?" I tried, hopefully.

"Deal." With that, Patrick sauntered off to his room, a bowl of potroast in his hand.




Friday, November 21, 2014

"Putting myself out there"

"That's it," I said, grabbing my Macbook Pro off the couch and hauling it onto my lap, "I'm making another profile. Right now." I looked at Patrick over the edge of the screen and raised my eyebrows for emphasis. He rolled his eyes and tossed his shaggy dark mane before dropping his gaze back down to the phone in his lap.

"Really? Right now?" I could feel his eyes on me again.

We were sitting in his living room, watching Bob's Burgers. I had just "moved in" the house--a shared group house of 6 PhD students in physics. Patrick was my best friend, on-again, off-again fuck buddy, and ex-boyfriend of about two and a half years. We never really broke up all the way that most people do, and I had a feeling he would always be in my life. At this point, I was closer to him than almost all of my other friends. We were occasionally still sleeping together, even though he had a girlfriend (long distance, but still. Oops.). He was my favorite person to drink beer with, go to concerts with, and watch TV with. I was crashing with him for the month before I moved to Chicago, and we were supposedly going to hang out and fuck all the time and drink a lot of beer but so far none of that was happening and I was bored and horny and lonely.

Typing in www.okcupid.com, I started filling in all the requisites. Female, single (ish), 5'8'', looking for short term dating, long term dating, new friends. Pictures (this actually took some time, I didn't want all of mine to be selfies), and done.

"You're only living here for what, 2 more weeks? Can't you just wait?"

"No, you  ass. 3 weeks, and I want to," I paused, and held up my hands for 'air quotes', "make new friends' before I move. I'll just set it to my new zip code. Easy."

Patrick rolled his eyes so far back I thought they were going to get stuck in his head and laughed.

"You're a piece of work,.." he started, but then trailed off.

"Yep. Aren't you glad you aren't stuck with me anymore??" I grinned and batted my eyelashes and watched as he snorted beer out of both nostrils. Wrinkling my face, I turned my attention back to my New Favorite Thing, aka fixing up my dating profile.

After about an hour (and 3 beers), answering the questions started getting old. I started looking at men who had a high match % with me. In Chicago.

"Fuuucccckkkkkk!!! Look at all these hot men!!! I want like, all of them. Now." I awkwardly shoved my laptop in Patrick 's direction, who took one look and burst into laughter before snapping the lid shut.

"Hey!"

"Hey yourself. Watch the fucking show, we're supposed to be hanging out," Patrick got up to get a beer and I yelled after him to bring me one. Once he was in the kitchen, I grabbed my phone, and promptly downloaded the OKC app, where I spent another hour answering questions and salivating over hot bearded hipster men in Chicago. However, I didn't realize that using the mobile app shared your location--so now I was showing in DC, not Chicago. At first I was pissed off about this, but after some hot bearded guy in a bowtie with huge blue eyes looked at my profile 3 times in 5 minutes, I didn't mind so much.

When I used the site before, during college, I'd NEVER messaged a guy first. I'd also had almost exclusively bad experiences, so I'm not sure why I thought it was a good idea again. Oh well!! The beer was giving me tons of liquid courage (or liquid confidence), and I shot off a couple of quick lines to MaroonedinBoston (Mr. Bowtie). His profile said he was in a polyamorous relationship, and that he lived with his girlfriend in DC. I wondered how many other people he was dating. I wondered if we'd have time to go out a few times before I moved, hmm.. this was going to be interesting.

Like I tend to do, I eventually got bored playing with my phone, and too tipsy to think about doing any more for the night. I did have work tomorrow, although I'd already given notice about my last day, and I hated thinking about waking up early. I was going to sleep in Patrick's room, which felt a little weird. I had already packed off most of my stuff, except for a suitcase, two boxes, my laptop, and my pillows and down comforter. I know this is very High Maintenance of me, but I get so fussy if I can't sleep with my own stuff. This probably accounts for why I don't like sleepovers very much.

We were bedding down, and I lay down on "my" side of the bed, or the side that used to be mine when we were actually dating and when I lived there. He turned out the light and I felt the indentation in the mattress deepen as he rolled over towards me. Sex with Patrick was so familiar at this point that it was almost like my body switched to cruise control, but not in a bad way. We just know each other very, very well. I felt his hand stroking down my neck and cupping one of my breasts before pinching my nipple. Sighing, I snuggled closer and tilted my face up to kiss him. The familiar fresh-laundry and deodorant scent flooded my senses in the dark and I felt his lips and teeth nipping at my jawline, neck, shoulder, before his hand slipped between my legs and gently started rubbing my clit. Involuntarily, I moaned into his mouth and pressed against him. Patrick has the unique distinction of being the most extremely proportional man I'd ever slept with. He's 6'4", about 190 lbs, and very well endowed. As soon as I could feel how hard he was against my thigh, I rolled on top of him and straddled him, before leaning down to kiss his neck. Patrick let me ride him like that until I came, gasping into his beard, and then he used one of his hands (I have SUCH a weakness for men with giant hands, they make me feel so dainty) to grab both of my wrists, yank me off his erect cock, and flip me onto my back. Pushing my hips deeper and deeper into the mattress, he finally groaned and arched his back, tensing up as he came. He lay his head down on my chest for a minute and I stroked his hair, feeling his breath coming in damp bursts on my collarbone.

"I'm really going to miss you, you know" he said, off into the darkness.

"I know." and I meant it, too. I would miss Patrick, a lot. Unexpectedly, a lump was starting to form in my throat. Was moving really a good idea? Could I do this? I had acquaintance friends in Chicago, but not real friends. I didn't have a job lined up. I didn't have a place to live. What the fuck was I doing with my life?

Hello, and welcome

I'm bad at starting these things, but an intro post might be a good idea so y'all aren't totally thrown off. I love reading fictional blogs ever since I started reading K's "blog" on Cosmo, which was years ago now. I thought about starting a fictional one a lot of the time, but to be honest, I couldn't ever get it off the ground. I couldn't think of a way to create as many characters as the fictional ones I love. I used to do freelance lifestyle writing, but it was an in-joke among friends that I should just write about my life instead.., so that's what I'm doing. SOME (not all, lol) names have been changed.

I'm 26 (story will start back when I was 25) and currently living in Chicago. However, I grew up in Virginia, and then lived in DC after college.

I'm polyamorous, which means I maintain serious (or casual!) relationships with more than one person at a time. Usually I strictly only date other poly people because dating people who don't identify with the lifestyle can be really complicated and stressful, as you may read about in this blog. This can lead to some awkward, funny, and interesting situations. I've always felt like this, and I tend to identify with it more as a sexual orientation than a lifestyle. Communication and time management are both SUPER important, and I know it's not for everyone, but it's what's always made me the happiest. I honestly just never imagined myself being monogamous, not even as a little kid. Then again, being flexible is hugely important in this lifestyle, so who knows what the future holds. Some great resources for reading about polyamory can be found here. And I'll try to check the comments and answer any question you have, too.

So why the title? I am big into reclaiming words, like slut. I happily refer to myself as a slut, and you'll probably see why if you keep reading. To me, it just means that I enjoy sex and I'm very liberal and free about it. I hate how society loves for women to look sexual, but not enjoy being sexual. This is bullshit, and I'm hoping to see it change within my lifetime.

I've also always loved to journal, so this will be pretty cathartic for me as well, and I honestly hope you all enjoy reading.

xxx,
Lauren