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Monday, April 10, 2017

The one where I'm on Season 3 of Transparent

Possible spoilers ahead, dear readers.


I spent my Spring Break this year finishing up a coding project for school. Spent hours putting in data and x/y values only to run the program and watch my characters still continue to bounce around like they had spiteful amounts of free will.


In order to avoid throwing my laptop out the nearest window, I'd give myself period breaks to binge watch the dramatic story of the Pfeffermans. I got through to Season 2 while on vacation, and have been working my way into Season 3 the past few weeks.

Tonight I reached the episode where this show that has gotten so much right (different types of transitioning, the difference between people who like to cross dress and people who identify as trans, the exclusion of trans women by the feminist community) completely shit the bed when it comes to nonmonogamous relationships.


Brief catch-up: The youngest daughter of the Pfefferman family was in a relationship with another woman and interested in opening the relationship up. Incredulity from the GF, "aren't I enough for you?" yadda yadda yadda, ensuing break-up. Fast forward to young Pfefferman in a relationship with another woman (fittingly, the same woman she had been interested in opening up her previous relationship in order to date), and suddenly intensely aware of how she craves jealousy within a relationship. Because jealousy implies passionate exclusivity, and Pfefferman is so in love with this other woman she can't bear the thought of her not bursting into tears when Pfefferman unexpectedly "cheats."

Which is not to say that a relationship dynamic can't be different depending on the people involved. I'm arguing against the implication that the only reason she wanted to open up the first relationship was because she wasn't really invested or in love with that woman. Once she found "the one," standard relationship bullshit could commence.

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Willful Girl Rides Again

It's been just over a week since the ink was officially pressed via ballpoint pens onto the legal document separating Now-Ex-Hubby and myself. I try not to dwell on the fact that we forwent a more traditional "everyone sit and stare at these two people in love" type ceremony; our legally sanctioned relationship both began and ended in a courthouse.

The interim 6 months between trash bags of his stuff thrown out the back door and sitting in front of a judge who told us this was one of the easiest divorces she's ever officiated were...not easy. To be uncouthly glib, break-ups never are. There's no adequate parlance to describe how somebody can come to affect every atom of who you are, and how incredibly difficult it is to tear that part out. I suppose I'm not being a very good poly person by completely axing the relationship instead of finding a new, progressive way to maintain it. I'm a bridge burner by trade. It's not that there aren't possible alternative ways across the chasm, it's just that the route one's used to is smoldering, and R&D for the next traversal will be postponed by the usual bureaucratic bullshit.

Which is not to say that I spent 6 months sitting at home and not getting into a fair amount of sexual adventures. I took my time. I felt sad. But I'm not a wallower. Here's the shenanigans I've been up to:


I helped a gentleman I know from the gang bangs quit smoking by offering, in return for him each day smoking one less cigarette, to send him a nude per day.


I tried THC lube.


I've been on a variety of spectacular dates. 

A birthday FMF threesome. (The male half of the couple was the one with the birthday request. We joked a lot about how even after years in "the lifestyle," it's those seemingly apex sexual encounters like two women at the same time that still persevere.) 

Added to my compendium of "hotels in the area that are decent to fuck in" with a gentleman pretty much my equal in both general disdain for humanity and explicit appreciation of the movie Tommy Boy.

Two fantastic food-focused dates with a city mouse cutie I met at the party where I tried the THC lube. I spent the entirety of the party thinking he was adorable, intelligent, and amorously skilled. (We didn't have sex with each other at the party, but being able to view and evaluate another's sexual capabilities is one of those unique opportunities afforded.) After scheduling via gif-heavy messaging, our first date entailed lamb curry and Super Mario World. The second, lobster mac and cheese and comparing our coding skills. Both dates included amazing kissing and oral sex that made my head fuzzy.
   
An absolutely glorious time with a man who knows one of the secret ways to my heart is with a plate of fancy cheeses.


Through the course of those dates I adjusted to officially starting anti-anxiety medication. I had been in the process of scheduling this while Now-Ex-Hubby and I were still together, and it seemed remiss to give up after things were more officially over. The very brief summary is it took about three days to not feel stoned after taking my allotted dose, about a week to get my orgasm response back to normal (I went hyper-responsive, which was interesting, as I've heard the opposite is usually the case), and about three weeks until I felt like I could classify this as my new "normal."

Frisbee and I seem to be staying the course. Our relationship, of course, is a bit different since the dissolution of myself and Now-Ex-Hubby. Relationships inherently change anyway over the course of time. This change just happened to be more akin to a reliable car suddenly breaking down in the middle of the freeway; the adjustment period stressful and full of unanticipated needs. We've kept the monthly check-in, although we amended it slightly. The most difficult part has been not getting sucked into, "this is better because that one ended" mindset. To revisit the analogy, I've got a new car now, but the old one also got me places.  

Any or all of the above may be worthy of their own entry at some point, intrepid readers. I've got escapades aplenty coming up in the schedule as well. If nothing else, it's good to be back.

Friday, January 13, 2017

Willful Girl goes on Hiatus

Greetings, intrepid readers.


Divorce proceedings between myself and Now-Ex-Hubby have begun in earnest. (At some point I will likely wind up changing that moniker - it's quite exhausting to type out every time I want to talk about him - but for now it serves its purpose.)

As part of those proceedings, I have been advised by my lawyer to, "stop all posting to social media outlets such as Facebook and Twitter."


Which, I'm taking into consideration the same way I've evaluated my workplace's advice to be careful about my social media presence. I'm not the type to get into butt-hurt comment thread arguments about who doesn't understand who's perspective on life and why that's literally the worst thing that could ever happen. So if Now-Ex-Hubby wants to use my Facebook posts (pictures of my cat yawning and status updates on how much I like the Avenue Q soundtrack) as fodder in the divorce, I guess that's what's going to happen.


That being said, when it comes to normative places like the courthouse, there's a considerable difference between my fondness for crass, puppet-based musicals and my fondness for consensually engaging in sexual activity with scores of other people.


It's disappointing that there's a difference, but I feel as though it would be reckless to continue posting about my various adventures until the ink's dry on all the paperwork. So I'm taking a (hopefully brief) hiatus from writing here.


Tuesday, November 8, 2016

Willful Girl Rearranges some Shit

The impasse between Now-hubby and myself from last month has developed further. The weekend after I published the above-linked entry here, I finally snapped with the exhaustion of trying to find options that would bring the focus back to "us." Tired of fighting the same fight over and over again. I'd suggest an alternative to the way things were going, try to advocate for something reasonable that would help me feel like I mattered anymore. I'd get met with reassurance that Now-hubby's other relationship was going fantastically, and that slowing down to actually put work in with me wasn't something he was interested in. This culminated in a random assortment of Now-hubby's things in trash bags out in the driveway, and me locking the doors on him.


I won't waste any more time in this entry with the "I said/He said" nonsense. It doesn't change anything, and it's all trivial bullshit, honestly. Now-hubby and I were together for 13 years, so in the past three weeks there's been a lot of history to go through and a lot of "what if's" I ruminate over in those moments of silence (showers, my work commute, etc.) I still love him, and although I disagree with what he's doing and the way he's gone about it, I do hope he manages to be happy wherever he winds up. I'll spare you my circuitous mental activities, dear readers. The pertinent information for you is that I'm changing the pseudonym from "Now-hubby" to "Now-Ex-Hubby." Everything else is staying as it is. Stay tuned.


Tuesday, October 11, 2016

The one where I watch Zootopia

Alright, I'm just going to stream of consciousness this. I'm on my laptop so I'll go back later and add reaction gifs if I think they'd be appropriate, but for now I'm just starting with a bulleted list.

Gotta love a good bulleted list.


Upon further review of the play, I can't insert gifs easily into a bulleted list. So I'm just going to go for a normally typed double-spaced affect.


Alright, the small rabbit just got rape-threatened but it's cool because she got her friend's carnival tickets back.


There are seriously obvious implications that all the "prey" are girls and all the predators are fuck boys.


Or there's super racial stuff going on. I can't tell. She's still in her hometown. Let's see how it works once she gets to the disgustingly homosexual big city.


"Aren't there any fox ice cream stores you could go to?" 


OMG that's just what I thought. Elephant noses are disgusting mucus membranes.

"It's rare that I find someone so non-patronizing." He said that with a straight face I'm going to die.

So...basically this guy is a hipster Robin Hood.



Jesus Christ Disney these rabbits have 400 other children by this point and they still have time to call their little baby bunny in the big city? 

Oh, geez. A suspenseful villain chase through the smallest part of town. If only there was a new cop on the force who's approximately the same size.


Emmitt Otter? Surely they mean Emmet Otter's Jugband Christmas?


I think Bellwether is my favorite.

I'm so glad that amongst all the stereotypes this movie is supposed to be fighting, the fat gay one is still a hilariously reliable trope.


He's fucking typing it slow the hell down.

My Netflix just lagged and I seriously thought it was still part of the bit.


NOBODY saw that visual gag coming. "Mr. Big?" Well played.


 So...they're like zombies or something.


Nick's fucking back story.


You have to get enthusiastic consent to touch a sheep's wool.


American Horror Story: Zootopia

I want to know what the hell is going on with the fish and birds.

YOU'RE THE WORST AT PRESS CONFERENCES.


Awww. Bullies just feel scared to be themselves.


Oh okay. The "savages" are just tripping on bath salts.

Dang Mr. Big's daughter about to have hundreds of babies.

Cool. The Walter White character showed up.


FUUUUCK Bellwether I trusted you!

"It starts with all of us."


EPIC SHAKIRA DANCE PARTY ENDING.