Huff

I have my best thoughts on the move, rarely at my laptop. I consider starting a Twitter diary but the joy of that medium escapes me. I resolve to write a very little bit, every day, while things are fresh in my mind so let's start with this:

It's Saturday so I am about to go to work. I could be mistaken but I suspect that Virgil is getting ready for a date. He is meeting someone for lunch. He has shaved and washed his hair and is asking for his blue cardigan. A chance glimpse of his phone earlier told me that the lunch is with Hazel. We played with her a party not so long ago. Afterwards she expressed enthusiasm for another round. I like Hazel, who is an intellectual poly political type, but declined the invitation. She is pretty in a classical way, like an old English painting, a bit soft at the edges and is clever rather than sexy. I think my lack of interest might have been the green light for Virgil, who has a special thing for mostly lesbians. Hazel's poly credentials are impeccable at any rate. 

The private knowledge makes me grumpy and he is unsettled. He wants to know if he is being ignored. I say that I am simply thinking and (when pressed) that they are neither good nor bad thoughts, but that I don't need to discuss them. I am just busy. I half-heartedly wish him a nice day. He leaves. I stew at my laptop. 

I feel hateful but determined to sit this huff out without throwing things or saying anything I'll regret. I don't want to have a discussion about open relationships. I just want Virgil to go the fuck out and get on with it... and then I will see how I feel. The secrecy, if such as thing is possible when two people share a one-bedroom flat and iPhones display unopened text messages to catch the unguarded eye, is at my request. I'm still in favour of a 'don't ask don't tell policy', even if it's less evolved.

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I am not a rapist...

...or, when is a hard on not a yes?

Virgil was his restless self in bed yesterday morning, turning, cuddling, making small animal noises. I was awake and affectionate. We had had a big discussion about polyamoury-non-monogamy-open relationships the day before. There will be many more talks I'm sure, but the air felt clearer, like after a big cry when you're tired but feel better for it. The substance of that conversation is another blog post. Enough to say that I wanted to share my love with Virgil yesterday morning, and when I reached down and found that he was hard I couldn't ignore it.

At first I just played with him through the t-shirt and shorts he'd fallen asleep in, stroking his chest, nipples, thighs, playing with his cock and balls. He was passive but quite compliant, taking his own t-shirt off and arching his hips to let me pull his shorts down. I enjoyed rubbing up against him and after a while and some more decisive wanking and sucking, during which he kept his eyes closed but wriggled, sighed a bit and most definitely stayed hard, I put a condom on him and climbed on top.

I should have known that this was not going to work. For a start, Virgil doesn't particularly like being underneath (he says it makes him feel squashed and he likes being in control). Well ok, it was an experiment. I moved up and down on him, hoping that his blank, sleeping face would come to life and it suddenly wouldn't just be me, having sex on my own. If this was a steamy novel, one of the kind I got so much masturbatory mileage out of in my teens, this would *definitely* have worked. And I've certainly let him do this to me so why shouldn't I be able to do it back?

Suddenly it seemed awful - really depressing. I felt like some kind everyman pumping up and down on top of an unresponsive woman. I thought of some of the pointless, frigid fucks of my youth with men and boys who may or may not have realised that I wasn't enjoying it. I wanted Virgil to join in and have sex with me! I jumped up and got out of bed without saying a word, and hid behind some stultifying admin until I felt calmer, but I couldn't quite forget about it.

Virgil was very charming all day, and brought home nice food for lunch and for dinner. At the back of my mind I was still cross about it and wondered if he was feeling guilty. Finally I confessed and he wasn't sorry at all! I said, "Look, if you're not into it just say no. Don't let me get that far. It was embarrassing." Then I said, "But obviously this will never happen again, but I want you to understand that it wasn't nice for me."

Virgil insisted that he had been totally asleep at first but when he had woken up a bit he hadn't cared that I was doing it and so hadn't stopped me. Then he said I should take responsibility for it, but that it wasn't worth getting upset about and we should have a hug and get past it. I glowered and lay there in inner turmoil for some seconds, wanting to be right but knowing that I wasn't going to win this. Virgil watched me and didn't say anything. Finally I put out a finger and touched him. Then he stroked my arm and then we hugged, curled up and turned on the news to find that Gordon Brown had announced his 'future' resignation and coalition talks were still going on between all parties.

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