Arcane—So after two years of unemployment, it’s looking like I’m finally going to have a job again. This period of fiscal inactivity has been extraordinarily hard on me, but one of the side effects has been a lack of social activity outside of my family. As you all know, since we’ve left the church we’ve been hard up for friends, because without the church, we don’t have a central social circle we’re a part of anymore. I’m interested to see how I’ll react to the work environment now that I’m not in the stocks of religious behavioral requirements.
There is a certain amount of trepidation. When we hit Craigslist in our search for folks who might be interested in fun and games with us, all of our communications were prefaced with the understanding that we’re in an open/polyamorous relationship, and were able to develop from there. There was no negative reaction to our way of life. In this new environment, I understand that there will be people who think what we’re doing is disgusting, or dangerous, or otherwise somehow unacceptable, and it may raise walls.
But honestly, I’m kind of used to that. I am a Christian, after all. Sometimes one’s choice of lifestyle causes discord. Fortunately, I happen to know the secret: be honest about it if it comes up, and shut up about it if it doesn’t. There’s no reason I need to go telling everybody I meet that I’m polyamorous; but it certainly needs to come up if I hit it off with an attractive coworker.
I’m excited to finally get to engage in real interpersonal interaction in this new way, and see how I approach potential relationships.
Of course this all hinges on me landing this job. Here’s hoping!
Cleo—Also: Money. YAY MONEY.
Okay, I’m gonna vouch for this on the basis that Arcane is downright intoxicating for me. Anybody else have a partner whose scent they love?
Arcane—I discovered that somebody else on Tumblr (woonastuck) has a Disqus doohickey on their site, and I thought it would make an excellent addition to the site. A large part of the reason for this blog is to spark thought and discussion among its readers, so I thought the addition of the Disqus might encourage users to do so.
Feel free to contribute, but be aware that we will not tolerate any hateful or destructive commentary. Also be aware that we may comment on your comments, or even potentially write whole posts about them!
Anyway. Hope you enjoy. See you around!
Asked by Anonymous
Arcane—I feel I need to correct this, because it’s completely wrong, and I realize that there are probably many people who feel this way.
First, let’s clarify terms. Guilt (as used by Cleo) is “the feeling of having done wrong or failed in an obligation”. Regret is “a feeling of sadness, repentance, or disappointment over something that has happened or been done (esp. a missed opportunity)”. While regret may be usable in terms of conscience (“I regret having hurt her”), it’s very rare, more commonly used in terms of disappointment (“I regret getting married” or “I regret not having gone to college”). Guilt, on the other hand, implies that you feel that you have done wrong, and guilt extends being morals or codes of conduct—you may be solidly convinced that killing the enemy in war is justifiable, and still be wracked with guilt. Such a reaction is normal and healthy.
To say a person shouldn’t feel guilt for anything they do implies that they can do no wrong. I object. A person should feel guilty if they rape someone. They should feel guilty if they cheat someone out of money. They should feel guilty if they take the last piece of someone else’s candy without asking. All of these things are wrong. Whether you believe in morality or not, guilt is an important social mechanism that human beings utilize to maintain order: you do something unacceptable, you feel guilty, and (hopefully) you take action to correct it and remove the unpleasant feeling of guilt.
What Cleo is expressing is surprise that, when engaging in these deviant sexual activities, she is experiencing no guilty feelings, which seems odd considering that:
I’m going to go out on a limb and suggest that what the church calls guilt is actually fear.
I suggest that most churchgoers do not feel guilt when they, for example, do the horizontal foxtrot with Patty; what they are actually feeling is fear of retribution. Guilt is a gut feeling that you’ve done wrong; this, on the other hand, is a gut feeling that you’re going to get in trouble, which is totally different. Churchgoers know that sexual sin is a big deal inside the church, and that much of Bible is very, very harsh when it comes to dealing with it. Paul goes as far as saying you should have nothing to do with sexual sinners within the church. Knowing that this sort of reaction, being ostracized by your friends, is likely, fear is a natural response.
Having stepped back from that community, and not as fearful of the result of being “outed”, we seem to have freed ourselves from the normal fear reaction that comes from the sort of activities we are engaging it. Not completely, of course—we still share a home with staunch Baptists, and so are clandestine about our activities, for the very real fear that we may be ousted should we be found out—but enough so that we are able to discover a real and complete absence of guilt.
So make no mistake: guilt is real and good. Fear is also real, and not as good, especially used as a yoke to keep people in line. I agree with you that Cleo shouldn’t feel guilty about enjoying sex with her friends, but don’t fall into that “do whatever you like” camp. Some stuff is bad, and we need to be careful in this journey, because our upbringing has made it hard to tell what is really bad, and what is just socially unacceptable.
Cleo—I did mention the BDSM thing.
I’ve been a secret fan of bondage, mental and physical, for… we’ll say a really, really long time. I’ve been a secret submissive for a really, really long time. It might have a bit to do with my fetish, or it might just be my nature. I don’t know.
So when Beloved says that he prefers to be dominant, and rather likes the idea of being my dom, and I his submissive… Ahh…
I’ll leave our particular kinks out of it and go for the emotional and mental aspects (I know you’re disappointed *pat pat*). (Oh don’t worry, dear readers, I may make her reveal some of them later. —Beloved)
There’s a certain possessiveness that I adore in my Beloved. Protectiveness. I am his sub, his pet. And while I think possessiveness makes Arcane nervous (the polyamory thing has him thinking about titles and ownership), I ache for it. There’s a security, and a sense of freedom, in the word “Mine.”
“My pet.”
“My love.”
“Mine.”
I’ve never felt so desired, or so secure in my position. So wanted, and not just sexually. My presence, my ideas, my… me. Wanted.
There’s another part of this that’s surprised me. On occasion I’ll find a portion of my mind wondering “what the hell is wrong with you?!” because surely “ownership” is sinful and wrong, right? But that bit of me is easy to shut down because of how comfortable and right this feels. My Beloved is sweet and wonderful. The title “Master” is given to him freely, and because I want him to have it. (Indeed, the way I see it, all of my power in this relationship comes from her giving it to me freely. It is meaningless unless willingly given. —Beloved)
There’s an element of trust in this, as well. Trust is given with much consideration because I’m naturally skeptical and I have a few emotional scars. I always have a backup plan, and trust is almost never given without some safety net to catch me if whoever I’m trusting suddenly proves unworthy. I have to trust that he won’t let me get hurt while I’m vulnerable, if he can help it. Trust that he’ll talk to me and listen. Trust that he loves me enough to be careful.
This exchange of titles and kinks and trust is also fascinating to observe, from the third-person perspective in my head. It’s not the terrifying loss of self that I’d been told such things tend to be, but rather an exploration and reinforcement. There’s a lot of “how do you feel about” and discussion and prodding buttons to talk about what the effect was. I’d not delved that far into that portion of my own mind before because I’d been taught that it was ‘dirty’ and I had thought that nobody wanted to explore that with me, but my Beloved has eagerly (gently) pried into almost everything sexual that I’ve been hiding since I was… Well, a really long time.
The entire relationship feels… right. Like a coat that smells like home. Like it was made for me. It’s served to rapidly deepen a relationship that I would have otherwise danced around for a while because I have trust issues.
And that is post one of my delve into the magical realm of D/s relationships. TUNE IN NEXT WEEK (or whenever, I don’t know when you check your Tumblr).
[Note: Beloved ≠ Gentleman.]
Cleo—We’re doing this Polyamory thing. And I like it. There’s no emotional restraint, no arguing with myself about whether or not I should be as crazy about someone as I am. It’s very freeing.
There is a minor problem I’ve been having, though, which may be a distance thing, or perhaps I’ll learn to cope with it better. Maybe I just need practice. The problem is balancing my time and affection.
I show love with actions. With time. Attention. Right now, at this point, that’s all I have to give. Time and attention. I’ve only got so much time to offer, though, and I have to divvy it up between my kids and my loves and my (rather minimal) work.
My Beloved lives a depressing distance away. I wish I was closer so that I could show my affection.
My husband lives in the same room as me. We are an affectionate couple.
Balancing the two of them is hard.
I’ve lived for almost five years with just one darling. I’ve poured all of my affection into him, and I daresay it’s been a lot. All of my kisses, all of my sex, all of me, with some surplus. I think he’s grown accustomed to me having few friends and only one lover, so the transition to me suddenly having a minor social life is something of a shock for him. And it’s not that I have less affection to offer him, it’s that I have less time. There are two children to add to this, as well as some sanity time in which I want no sound, no contact, nothing.
The balance has been difficult, more for Arcane than for me, I think. While I am content with a regular infusion of kisses and “I love you,” he seems to require more. Perhaps it is his social nature. And this is where love comes in.
Sacrifice. Love is sacrifice and offering. Beautiful, glorious sacrifice of self and time and resources in order to make another happy. (That is a portion of the Christian faith that I wholly endorse, though not to the extent that some tend to push it. You should not destroy yourself for another, or surrender who you are to be warped and abused. But I do believe that love is an exchange of “let me make you happy, let me help you, let me give.”) As Arcane has said, that is what Christ did. This whole sacrifice business is what Love is. But that’s a religious monologue and I won’t go into it.
Love is, in this case, prodding the fire if he wants to have sex and I’m tired (he’s a night owl, I’m really, really not). It’s noting how many hours I’ve been talking with Beloved versus how much time I’ve cuddled with Arcane. It’s attention when I’d rather be reading, listening to him talk while I draw, putting up with cartoons that I would otherwise call stupid and crass and letting down my uppity demeanor so that I can enjoy it with him.
The division of time between two loves is difficult when they don’t live in the same area, primarily because one gets my attention siphoned and filtered through the internet and the other gets me raw and unfiltered. And while I know that they can’t feel the difference, I can. The division of time is deciding who needs me at the moment.
At least, that’s how it seems to me. I’ve only been going at this for a little while. Perhaps I’m wrong.
Cleo—Why am I doing this again? Oh, right, right… posterity… remembering… bla bla bla. Right. Okay. Onward.
On Saturday the 5th of May, I went to our friends’ house and stayed the night. It was all very impromptu, which is generally how fun things happen. It goes against my desire to plan, but Arcane and I do the whole “So-and-so wants to hang out! Now! Can I?” thing a lot, simply because we suddenly have time/money and someone to play with. (“Play” being substituted for any activity here, not just dirty ones).
My hips are sore.
[CENSORED]
Some notes: It generally takes upwards of a year for me to feel comfortable enough with someone to hug them, let alone sleep in the same bed with them. I’m not sure if sex skips that year, or if this couple just hits my “disarm” button.
So that was interesting. I’m a fairly cuddly person, but I’m not sure what to do if I’m in the middle. I tend to feel like I should participate… middle position of anything doesn’t really lend itself to that. It’s a “desire to please” thing. I think that even if I was the “F” in a M/F/M threesome I’d be wondering that the two gents were having fun, and should I be doing something, even though I’m pretty sure the female in such a group is basically just a pleasure tool at that point.
ONWARD.
[CENSORED] (Ha! Bet you weren’t expecting that so fast).
I made soup! I make a very good soup. There is cheese. Lots of cheese. Mmmmm… cheese. :3
Teasing, talking, teasing. Nap.
I am kind of ridiculously, disarmingly comfortable with Gentleman, as proven by the fact that I fell asleep in his presence twice. There’s a difference between sex and sleep, you know, in more than THAT way. When you sleep, facades tend to vanish. And you’re incredibly vulnerable, even if you do sleep lightly.
Gaaaaaaames, because when geeks hang out there’s a lot of ignoring each other in favor of a computer screen. And then a walk with Lady, and an adorable feline. Sidewalks are not wide enough for three, which is fine since I tend to trail behind anyway. (I don’t talk much and I’ve got a “personal space” problem… I can generally be found a few feet behind you, to the side). Home, more gaaaaaaames, a snippet of anime, and [CENSORED], which I suppose was my fault for taking off my shorts.
I’m a sub, you guys. Like… I’m snarky and I can be clever, and never, never think you can take advantage of me without a fight, but I am a sub. I’m submissive because I enjoy being so. So if Gentleman says he likes to be dominant and play rough… Yes, please. And yeah, I like a bit of pain in the middle of my fun.
[CENSORED]
[ALSO CENSORED]
And there was Lady. Hells, she’s pretty. o_o [CENSORED] [CENSORED][IF YOU COULD SEE BEHIND THIS CENSOR BAR YOUR HEAD WOULD EXPLODE]
So that was my first F/F experience, and holy… hell. The sounds she made… And the taste… Mmmf.
So… yeah.
Okay, now we go brain-delving. Ready?
I was rather surprised (though I didn’t dwell on it) during pretty much all of this at how comfortable it was. I would think that it would feel scandalous or… well, sinful, but it really didn’t. It was just comfortable and fun and… natural. It might have something to do with the couple, or perhaps I was raised wrong. The possibility that I’ve been raised wrong, that the whole Baptist/churchgoing Christianity thing is wrong, keeps coming up, and keeps making me marvel at how cultish the faith seems from this angle. It’s a conflict in my mind between what I’ve been taught about sex and gender and preference/orientation and what I’ve experienced. I feel no guilt. Shouldn’t I be guilty? Shouldn’t God be hitting me over the head with THE BIG GUILT STICK (copyright God Inc.)? Or has, perhaps, my family, my religion, my upbringing, been holding the stick? And if I ignore the things holding the Guilt Stick, can they hit me with it?
Much to think about. And I still have more posts to write later. I’m going to buckle down and talk about the BDSM things I’ve launched myself into with much discussion and adoration for one particular man, at some point. (Should be interesting).
Cleo—So. I had a date last night, with Gentleman from previous posts.
I would like to point out at this point that I’ve only been on previous dates with Arcane. Like… he was the first and only. (We theorize that nobody else asked because I’m an ice queen.) So this was an entirely new experience for me. I’d known Arcane for something like two years before I blurted out “Hey I’m obsessed with you” and he said “I like you, we should date” (paraphrased). The first “date” was a church function.
I’d also like to state that going out after we’d had sex kinda removed the “what if I make an ass of myself” thing for me. I’m generally fairly good about keeping my foot out of my mouth (the secret: don’t talk), so if there’s anything I’m going to make an idiot of myself with it’s flirting and sex. Buuut we’d already done that bit once before…
Moving on to the date.
Gentleman’s really sweet, I will say that first, and he kinda went straight for the soft spots via sushi and books (art is another, rather large soft spot). Salmon gives me tonguegasms and books are… Books are worlds placed at my feet.
Gentleman is also a horny bastard and smacked my hormones almost immediately. The fiend. And hello, more teasing things. Things under the table, wandering through the bookstore, and in the car. I won this round by using the stop lights.
To his house… [CENSORED FOR YOUR DELICATE SENSIBILITIES]. And then watching a show with him and his gorgeous girlfriend. (Delicate sensibilities? They’re reading a goddamn sex blog. —Arc) (You poop head. —Also Arc)
It seems that if a gent has a pretty lady to both sides of him, he gets molesty. But lo, the Lady and I are teases in return.
I’m not sure I’ve ever had as much fun being a tease. It’s just better with some teamwork involved. I was half tempted to have her pause and show me what she was doing to elicit such delicious sounds from him (next time, perhaps).
Then I guess he’d had enough…[CENSORED] both of us. (Was that too obvious a censor?) Lady makes some fantastic noises too. >_>
…
It was a really, really fun night.
Oh, and at some point I got home. I’ll have to write about coping with giving three men attention at some point. Maybe my next post. And the Security Kit, because someone asked. (I haven’t forgotten you!)
Cleo—And now it’s the introvert’s turn. Actually, let’s go over that first.
ANTISOCIAL PART II
I am nervous about entering people’s houses. Not only because there are new rules and I’m on unfamiliar turf, but also because I have this incredible desire to explore. You can learn a lot about people by their house. New houses hold new quirks and new things to look at. However, most people will look at you funny if you go exploring immediately.
The awkward person’s intro Security Kit (For Sexytimes): Mouthwash; toothbrush; scent; deoderant powder. And yes, I’m serious. You’d be surprised what will fit discreetly into a purse or pocket. I call this the Security Kit (For Sexytimes) because knowing that you just finished dinner but you probably taste of mint and don’t smell of sweat is an enormous confidence booster. If you say pretty please I might post the full kit and my recommendations.
Another set of social fears: I’ve kissed and had sex with two (now three) gents in my life, and I have no idea how I fare. (Though this one kept coming back for more, so either he enjoys being excessively polite to the point of torment, or he was having fun. >_>) Arcane’s taught me to be an aggressive kisser (cause he likes that [gentle??! WTF is that]). And I know I’m a submissive lover. And that is the extent of my knowledge.
Now, on to the evening. First a series of short films that may have broken our mathematically-minded hostess’s brain a little bit… Then, as I recall, she went up to take a shower and I ended up between the two gents on the couch.
… Hells this is embarrassing. Primarily because I know at least one half of this couple keeps up on this blog. (Hi there! Isn’t this awkward to read? Stop laughing.)
I don’t do body contact. That initial handshake or awkward hug makes my skin crawl, so Arcane probably did it right, but still. He shoved me into a cuddling position with Gentleman (that’s his new name, by the way), basically. Which in retrospect is fine, because I like cuddling and nobody’s as easy to melt into as a willing male, but at the time I had to force myself to calm down. It did get progressively easier, riiiiight up until he started doing things.
… What, did you expect me to tell you what things are? Ha! (Poop head. —Arc)
Lady came back! New movie! But not the one she wanted to show because in addition to being antisocial and snarky, I also have imagination issues and have to be super careful about what I watch. The new movie’s excellent and I’ll have to watch it again. Meanwhile…
Things went into more things and we sort of did this back-and-forth teasing (you know, like you tried to do as a teenager in the hopes that your parents wouldn’t notice you fondling your significant other on the couch).
Another movie. Kinda silly. Don’t have to pay as much attention. More things. Hell’s bells, THINGS. I concede to being grind-the-bed horny and off Gentleman and I go.
Oh, but wait. My first lady kiss. EVAR. Which I’m sure made my husband’s year. (Why she so pretty?! o_o)
Then [CENSORED] and [CENSORED]. Which led to [CENSORED] and [CENSORED][CENSORED][CENSORED]. (ಠ_ಠ —Arc)
Also [CENSORED]. (ヽ(≧皿≦)ノ —Arc)
I don’t recall shaking for that long after sex before. Congrats, Gentleman, you have broken a record. You’ve broken a couple, actually.
We finished movie number three (which was also excellent). It just… took a while between start and finish.
I got sent home with Mass Effect 3 (which I am still playing and still squeeing my pants over) and accidentally left my choker there (kinda a pity, as I was still testing it, but ah well! I’ll make another).
And that is my account of the evening.
Antisocial lessons: Bring your Kit and don’t freak out.
Arcane—As Cleo has pointed out in an earlier post, I am due to write an update for you. I’ve been hesitant to do so, however, because we’re going to talk about some topics that I’m a little uncomfortable with, and that I fear the other person involved may also be uncomfortable with. There has been a need to carefully consider what I want to say and to articulate it well. So now it’s time to press forward.
I have spent two evenings now with a lovely lady, who, for the sake of both simplicity and anonymity, we shall henceforth call Lady (note: if you ever name your little girl “Lady”, you deserve to be killed). Last night, Cleo and I went to visit Lady and Gentleman (figure it out), and, after some movie sharing, Gentleman took Cleo upstairs, and Lady and I had a titillating encounter of our own (I’m sure Cleo will share the tasty details of her encounter in her own post). This is the second time now I’ve had the privilege of being with Lady, and it was similarly fantastic, if not more so.
But there’s something going on behind the scenes, and since I’ve had to cope with it, I feel it likely that others experimenting in the same way are likely coping with it, I want to elaborate.
Under the status quo, sex is typically either a part of a deeper relationship, or completely meaningless (i.e. the One Night Stand). I’ve been prepared for both of these contingencies; being polyamorous, I’d love the opportunity to grow close to and care for someone as much as Cleo (which may already have happened; more on that in another post), and I’m also okay with the possibility of casual sex. Granted, I think sex with a friend is so much better than sex with a stranger (also safer), but the point is that I’m okay with sex just being fun. This encounter has been neither of those things, and has wound up with me being a little conflicted about it.
I’ve been caught off guard by Lady, who is smart, friendly, caring, fun, and everything that I want in a life partner. There’s a desire that goes far, far beyond sex—a desire to have this person in my life, a desire to learn about and care for her, a desire to spend lots of time with her. These are things that, before I got married, would have made me pursue her as a potential mate.
Which is where we run into my internal conflict: Lady is currently already in a wonderful relationship with a wonderful man, and there’s every possibility that she neither needs nor wants to share with me the sort of relationship that my… heart? Id? Subconscious?… sees potential for. Not everyone is comfortable sharing their life with more than one individual; and it may not even be a matter of discomfort so much as an unnecessary addition. Less “I don’t want this chair because it hurts my bum” and more “I don’t want this chair because I don’t need another chair in my living room”.
I completely respect that—but that doesn’t change my feelings, at least at the moment. However, if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the past year or so, it’s that Hollywood’s idea that you should “trust your feelings” is bullshit. What you should trust is reason, respect and communication. So the real question is, what do I do about the fact that I want something that I may not be able to have?
The answer is: get over it. Remember that potentiality and actuality are different things, and that the loss of potential does not represent a true loss. Just because something could happen doesn’t mean it’s going to happen, and therefore pursuing all potential simply because “if I don’t, it will disappear” is foolish. Life is about enjoying the Now, not about constantly striving for the Future.
Not long ago, I would have thought having such feelings but not being able to act on them would be torture, but I’ve realized that how I treat a life partner shouldn’t be any different than how I treat a friend or even casual acquaintance. Regardless of whether polyamory is now or will ever be a potential aspect of our relationship, Lady deserves respect and consideration. Right now, she feels comfortable enough with me to fall asleep in my arms, and for that I am ecstatic. If ever she feels comfortable enough with me to confide in me as she would with Gentleman, wonderful. If someday down the road, we all decide to conglomerate into a big ol’ House of Love, also fantastic. If we hang out for a few months, or a couple of years, and have a wonderful time together, and then go our separate ways, then I won’t feel as though I’ve lost anything, because potentiality doesn’t equate to actuality. I will have enjoyed our time together, and be ready to enjoy the Nows that come next.
I hope that this has made sense—a lot of my inner conflict stems, I think, from a long history of unrequited infatuation, and an insecurity about handling my inner emotions. That may not be something you have had to deal with, and so you’re coming into this article with a different viewpoint. However, for those of you that may be dealing with this kind of experience, just… remember that if you’re worrying about your emotions, you’re thinking about you and not the person you should be worrying about. Focus on them, and what they need, and you’ll find it’s so much easier to handle being “just friends”… or whatever you may luckily be!