Post-party blues

It's probably partly the after-effects of the stimulants I took over New Year's Eve. Everything seems wrong with my life today.

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What's in it for you?

Somebody suggested that a blog should offer its readers something. That's funny. I thought a blog was a big electronic chasm that people come to wail into (those who aren't posting pictures of their children and bible study group outings, that is).

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I bore myself but it's not all doom and gloom

We can have an open relationship but only if it's not fun for anyone. The tension starts at least a day before the date, maybe even earlier. I start wondering whether we're going to have sex before the date. I may have mentioned this before, but I always want more sex than Virgil and I keep count.

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Co-writers

Working together is so fucking hard sometimes. Sitting in a café over breakfast, my pledge not to raise my voice at Virgil goes out of the window. He accuses me of losing my temper. I assure him I haven’t but don’t lower my voice.

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Post-party cold

I am in bed with a cold. I could get up but then I'd feel rotten. I don't have any work so this doesn't even count as a sickie. Better to stay here, listening with half an ear to something about Confucianism and scanning blogs and websites. I look at a discussion about poly relationships on Informed Consent, check in to Quiet Riot Girl to find that she likes Joni Mitchell too. I feel so out of touch with my kink when I visit IC.

Our sex parties have come and gone, too much work to write about. They really were a splendid success, although we were too ambitious and worked so hard that we were too tired to properly enjoy them. Beds were broken, igloos and sleighs were made and fucked in, clothes and glitter went absolutely everywhere. I feel an inner glow of satisfaction and pride at having created something memorable and good. Now it's someone else's turn. I want to be entertained, to arrive as a guest and leave at the end, not worrying about clearing up and who's going to take the sheets to the laundrette.
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My Clit Is In Hiding

Tickets to our sex party sold out in a week, catching us all by surprise. The event is more than a month away. Amateur statistics suggested that in future some form of positive discrimination at least will be necessary to keep the gender split roughly equal. We're not sure how to do this while staying fair. Do we have to be fair? Obviously we have to be seen to be fair but I don't think anyone would thank us for putting on a party with too many straight men lurking around.

Why do more single men sign up? Is it just that they are more motivated by the idea of getting sex? Are women more dubious about going to a sex party? Our party rules state that everyone must come with a friend or lover who will vouch for their behaviour. If one person behaves badly then both are in trouble. A small group of ticket buyers (mostly single men, conveniently) did not arrange this and will now probably lose their tickets, although we will allow them to hold them over to the next party.

I have spent half the week organising a volunteer rota and fielding enquiries, my own sex life neglected. It doesn't matter. My libido is low. This morning instead of lying in and making love Virgil and I cleared out our (inadequate) storage cupboard. Apparently I've fought off nocturnal advances several times and on two mornings have been too sleepy to fuck.

A voice in my head, which I hear mostly when I cycle around, is saying that my clitoris feels small and dormant. If it were a cock it would be shrinking back inside me. I've had one or two moments of arousal at inappropriate times, but mostly I don't feel sexy. I worry about having bad sex while I feel like this in case it exacerbates the mood.

Contrast this to times in my life when sex has not been readily available. I have simmered with frustration, written passionately and masturbated like crazy, fantasizing about people encountered online but not in the flesh.
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Spreadsheets

More sex party organisation and admin. Today the question crosses my mind: had I known what a mentalist T is about spreadsheets would I have fallen in love with him in quite the same way?
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Sex party politics

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Headstrong in the Family Bed

The other night for the first time I said to Virgil: "I can't sleep so I'm going to have a wank and that should do the trick." He was sweet and cuddled me and played with my breasts while I did it. He asked me what I was thinking about. I suspect it was to see whether the answer might turn him on too. But I remained close-lipped and only told him afterward that I had been fantasizing about being upended and spanked first on my backside and then on my pussy. By then I was drifting off to sleep as intended.

Last night I wanted to make love but my hopes were confounded. We cuddled instead. Ironically, the sex party Virgil and I are organising is taking over. He is planning his costume and programming playlists. We haven't had sex all week. He knows that I am annoyed about this, and I think he knows that I know that he knows.

"Do we need to talk?" he asked me this morning. 

"No," I said. 

"I think we do," he said. 

"Well, I think we don't, but if you want to then we can."

I don't want to talk about it, but I wish I was going on a hot date tonight while he's out. It's true. One shouldn't rely on just one other person to satisfy one's sexual appetite.

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