Other people's feelings

I experience a new side to nonmonogamy and play the long game.

A recent first date inspired some interesting texts and a sense that something else might come of it. Not a big new romance, but the potential for sex and good company, pleasurable time spent getting to know someone. Damien is a grown-up but a fun one, not a geek but (on first impressions) a well-rounded, sociable, amicable man. He's an OkCupid connection and I liked the letter he wrote me and his profile so much that I went for it, even though I wasn't entirely sold on his pictures.

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Shame and non-monogamy

I'm not the only one to get jealous.

Given the bad press non-monogamy usually gets, it's understandable that when it's working folk want the world to wise up. But lately the posts of some poly people I know have seemed unbearably smug.

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Day 18 PV

In which I think about resentment and know I can't go back.

I'm sad but one thing feels good and right: I don't want to be a jealous, resentful person again.


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Day 14? PV

In which I reflect on the experience of Jay Jones and move on.

An email comes from Jay in response to one from me in which I raise the possibility of friend sex. He'd love to play with me at parties, he says, but doesn't think sex in private is a "good idea". Too much of a blurring between playtime and dating, too much intimacy, for Jay starts to feel like a relationship. He's being kind and careful. I can feel the work he put in and I am grateful.

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Day 6 PV

I woke up in Jay's bed this morning. That's a first. My open relationship with Virgil had a no overnights clause because I couldn't bear the idea of him being loving with someone else in the morning. It was always good to wake up with Virgil. The idea that it won't happen again has been bothering me to the extent that I texted Virgil to tell him.

There wasn't actually any sex with Jay yesterday or this morning, not even kissing. There was cuddling and some spooning but he kept it firmly non-sexual. I didn't ask why; I just enjoyed the company. It might have been his hangover and tiredness yesterday or maybe he's being careful of my emotional state. Perhaps he doesn't want to have sex with me anymore, or perhaps he just didn't want to have sex this time. To ask would be to spoil it. I don't care. We talked, ate dinner and curled up on the sofa to watch a film, which I fell asleep in and missed the last train.

It was a bit of an anticlimax of course, as I had been up for sex, but it was nice and I was glad to see Jay. When I told him about Virgil and splitting up I did it in a very sane way, philosophical, hardly tearing up at all. It sounded plausible and sensible and as though I was coping, which I am.

Other people don't replace Virgil though. There's a tide of unreasonable emotion inside. It's a sea of pain. I feel as though my heart has been pulled out.
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Day 5 PV... and the 301st entry on this blog

I passed a milestone when I posted last time and didn't notice until later. I have now more than 300 posts on this blog. I'm not proud though: more than anything it's a testament to how little I have promoted my writing. It also feels like an awful lot of work: work on my relationship, work about Virgil. Mulling it over, painful musings, angst, expressing stuff and so on. So much energy expended ... well, I've only myself to worry about from now on. It'll do me good.


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Wheat poisoning

I've got brain fog. Brain fog is what it sounds like and I'm blaming it on my new intolerance, sensitivity or allergy (whatever you want to call it) to wheat. It explains why I can hardly think, barely construct a sentence and why even getting out of bed this week has seemed like a huge pain. I'm also in a terrible mood. People annoy me even more than usual and that's saying something.

Can this all really be wheat? Apparently it can. Symptoms of wheat allergy include exhaustion, bloating, mood swings (check, check, check) and even itchy eyes (check!). Ok, thrush is not up there at the top of the list but I know from past experience that there's a connection. Now I just have to stop eating wheat (check - day two already) and sit it out.

I'm relieved to have a reason. In fact, my mood must have improved slightly because I write to Jay in a warm, news-y way and decide not to worry too much about it. I think it'll be fine.
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Missing someone

In the end I decide to hide Oliver the dom from my Facebook feed. This is mostly on the advice of Virgil who says I should maintain face. I decide not to write to him either.

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The keys to the toybox

I meet Amanda for dinner. We haven't seen each other alone for ages. When she asks why I'm not having my usual strawberry milkshake I explain that I'm off sugar for sexual health reasons. I order a cheeseburger, make a face and say that I've been getting infections.

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I do not understand some people

I don't think I have the emotional resources for another lover but I want to have more sex. I already have a long-term partner in Virgil. And there is the exciting and preoccupying, as yet undefined, new connection with Jay. The idea of meaningless sex makes me nervous. More romantic entanglement would be exhausting: I'm barely coping with the new things I'm feeling. And I would still like some kink in my life.

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Too much thinking and SHBs but I set something in motion

Virgil (curse him) once told me that people who read self-help books use them to replace real change with reading self-help books. I think I use SHBs in times of crisis to get myself back on the straight and narrow, to tame my violent mind and unruly thoughts. When things start to spiral out of control SHBs can offer some perspective and stop me flying off the handle. I just bought another one. It's by Wayne Dyer. I'll let you know how it goes.

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Back again

It is not fair but I am angry with Virgil.

I leave and when I get home send an email explaining that I will no longer prioritise seeing him at weekends. Virgil goes out with Sarah while I work on Saturday nights. But when asked I tell people that I already have plans for the weekend. Only being available during the week is a city phenomenon. It hints at exciting weekends planned well in advance with A-list weekend friends. The truth is more mundane: cinema, meals, nights in and early to sleep. I am unhappy with my social life. I am jealous of Virgil and Sarah. Although I miss Virgil terribly, most of the time, I have to start doing more things on my own.

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An engagement (not mine)

Predictably, things have taken a turn for the better. Well they had to.

A housesit falls into my lap. It begins tomorrow, making tonight probably the last I will spend in the chaotic warehouse of dogs and Luz. After the housesit Virgil and I will be on holiday and, after that, there will be a new house. I hope Luz and I will part on reasonably good terms. Sometimes it's good to hold one's tongue a little bit.

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An awful terrible day

It's a real shame but when one thing goes badly wrong other things get affected. Life leaks. There's a constant soundtrack in my head of what I need to say to Luz about the flat. I don't want to be there. Virgil is sick of hearing about it but I can't switch it off. I have started to want to sleep at his simply because I don't want to be at home.

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STDs and open relationships

It's not sexy but my current preoccupation is my living situation. I have also been working pretty solidly which hasn't left much time for writing. When I finish this piece of work I shall devote myself to looking for a new place.

I was supposed to have a date with Tim yesterday, finally, but the day before he postponed: his herpes had flared up, right on the end of his cock (yes, I asked). He 'would understand if I wanted nothing more to do with him', he said. Then, when I said it was fine, 'Thank you for being so cool about it.'

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Life soup

I can't work out why I don't want to write at the moment. Not long ago I could do little else. I think I was on some kind of trajectory and needed to describe it. At least I could describe it. Now I don't know what I'm doing and it's hard to write about. It's just messy. I'm living in a flat which has turned out to be the wrong flat and just sort of keeping my head above water somehow. Things I thought I didn't want a few months ago now feel like achievements to maintain. And I still don't know if I want them. At least I have something to be bothered about now which isn't totally about my relationship. And there's still that of course.

This evening Virgil is on a date with Sarah. Well, he's back now I think. He just sent me an email with flight options for our summer holiday. Possibly he wants me to know that he's back and thinking of me. Yesterday I texted him to say I didn't think I could see him last night as I was too upset at the thought of the seduction dinner I imagined he had planned for her. For several hours I stormed around thinking how I hoped Virgil would be impotent or prematurely ejaculate. I thought I would refuse to see him for several days as punishment. I thought I would refuse to ever sleep in the bed I used to share with him. I wanted to smash Sarah. I felt sick and tired of trying to do something that I find difficult and painful. I thought of breaking up with him.

'Yes, smash her! That slut!' roars Deirdre my therapist, laughing, when I tell her about it. Then she makes me concentrate on my own feelings rather than what I think about Virgil's behaviour and his desire to have an open relationship. I note that the feeling gives me a horrid sensation in my right kidney.

'I feel betrayed. I feel left out. I hate that I can't call or text him when he's with someone else!' I say at last.

The session ends up being a lot about my six-year-old self wanting my mum when she went into hospital one summer. There was a lot of being taken to the park by an au pair called Karin and my auntie Barbara came to look after us too. I missed my mum. When she came back there was yet another baby to look after. I buried my head in books and became precociously independent.

It's pretty early for a date to finish, I think. Virgil already told me that he didn't have a big seduction dinner planned. So what did happen and is he dating Sarah or just seeing her as a friend? I wish I understood. I surprise myself slightly: I don't feel good about Virgil being on a date but I am coping. I have even got past the malicious thoughts.

I have a seduction dinner planned, by the way. Next week at Tim's flat I'm going to be the seducée who gets cooked for and (probably) fucked. I don't know if I have the stomach for it. Is that kind of certainty sexy? Am I really up for this? But a really good fuck is something I really wouldn't mind having. And if I take a vibrator with me I might come. Alot! Having only had sex with Tim a couple of times, several years ago, I don't know what his position is on vibrators. However, he already thinks I'm a sexual freak/superwoman so he can't be that much of a prude.
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Time out and living arrangements

Virgil took me to the mountains in France. We had a lovely time swimming, walking and eating good French food. Virgil drove us around the narrow mountain roads. I swallowed my car sickness and tried not to get too annoyed by his terrible driving (he hadn't wanted to share it). 'You are the worst backseat driver ever. I don't want your advice, ok?' he says finally, shortly before smashing the passenger-side wing mirror.

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Moved

I've moved house which is why I haven't been writing. No one writes when they're moving house. It's impossible. When I had to leave Virgil's in exile I couldn't do much more than write. All those thoughts and feelings. Now I'm busy home-making although I still cry a great deal. Standing on the train platform in tears the other day, I thought: 'If anyone asks me, I'll say I'm crying for Andy Murray.'

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Motivations and progress

I complain to my therapist, Deirdre, that Virgil is incompetent. He cannot tie up properly and he cannot beat to my satisfaction. He doesn't care about kink enough to be skillful. Virgil is a very amazing head on a body that he doesn't really live in. Dyspraxic is the word I use in private. It's unkind but therapy sessions are not a place to pull punches about people who aren't there. I think about how much better for me solo-therapy is than joint therapy.

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Weekend away

I swallow my reservations about going away with Virgil but my fears are realised when he has to work for most of the weekend. And when he doesn't have to work, he is preoccupied. Virgil's favourite thing about the weekend: the swank, minimalist hotel I find for us. It has a swimming pool on the roof and the best blackout blind in existence. We sleep cocooned in darkness until late each morning. 'Nine hours!' crows Virgil happily and gets back on his laptop. He keeps remarking on what an excellent choice of hotel it is.

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