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.


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."


Monday, October 10, 2016

Stale Mate

Now-hubby and I have reached a bit of an impasse with our relationship. After four sessions with the therapist, things weren't progressing. That's the standard relationship cut-off point, yeah? Four dates to figure out whether the two of you are trying for forever?

To be perfectly clear, we weren't trying to date our therapist. I'm being explicitly facetious about "standard" relationship progression in order to express frustration with how much time and effort I've invested for the minimal changes within our relationship. Our therapist was phenomenal. She had a lot of insights into how Now-hubby and I operate as a couple. In the end, I decided to discontinue couples therapy because it started to feel like an "easy" fix for Now-hubby. Talk in front of a professional: one hour, once a week. Address a lot of issues in the way we understand each other and how things have gone down since capital-T Thursday. Make the absolute minimal effort to adapt our relationship outside of that weekly hour.

Which is not to say the therapy train has let the station. I've got two appointments set for early December with psychiatrists. The only reason for the time delay is I wanted to narrow the field to fit some strict criteria. I'm considering letting somebody alter the way my brain works chemically; I'd like them to have at least a 4/5 star rating from previous patients. Also important: a pysch that's taking new patients and has an actual human I can talk to when I call their office. Don't worry, dear readers, I'll be posting on how the medicinal approach to what previous therapists have diagnosed as "generalized anxiety disorder" goes.

Next week will mark the two month anniversary of capital-T Thursday. Two months in which Now-hubby and I haven't so much as kissed on the mouth. I've reached lows I haven't since when I was still living at home. Now-hubby's waiting for me to match the emotional intensity he's got going on in his other relationship. I'm waiting for his NRE (new relationship energy) rose-colored glasses to fade back to standard UV levels.

It'll be another two months before I can even start the discussion of changing the way I address reality. By that time, I don't know what color Now-hubby's glasses are going to be.

I don't know if it will matter.

Sunday, September 18, 2016

Willful Girl Talks it Out

The school year is officially back in full swing again. When my department got together on the first day to discuss our schedule and expectations for the year, we started the meeting by sharing one word that best described our summers. My word was: over.

Which is not to say that my summer wasn't any other adjective, verb, or noun that I could have said instead. Once I got through with Summer School, I traveled down to America's penis (Florida) to spend some time with my best of all best friends. Devoted three days of the trip to losing my damn nerd mind at The Wizarding World of Harry Potter.

After just enough time at home to do laundry and re-pack my suitcase, Frisbee and I gathered our passports and headed to the international side of the airport for a week-long trip across the Atlantic. 

We got back stateside, I had one day to sleep off the jet lag, and then it was back to school. Granted, teachers etc. were back on Thursday and students didn't start back until the following Monday. Which means I had an entire weekend to try and get myself over what has become known as capital-T Thursday. The day Now-hubby and I blew ourselves up over bad timing regarding a possible emotionally significant advancement in his other relationship. If the context two sentences ago wasn't enough of a clue, no, I'm still not over it.

Now-hubby and I have both been in other romantic, emotionally significant relationships since we've been together. Despite me being the nonmonogamy instigator, Now-hubby's the one who handles it better. He approaches everything from a perspective of loving me and wanting me to be happy, whereas I'm always waiting for the other shoe to drop. For fuck's sake, Now-hubby helped me clear out our extra room when Frisbee was moving in. And I'm consistently waiting for the moment when  Now-hubby (or any of my partners, really) is going to look over and say, "this nonmonogamy thing is too hard and you're not worth the effort." Or even worse: "Things in this other relationship are going so well I've decided I'd rather be there instead of with you." Again, this is one of those hilariously fun things that's carried over from the way people who supposedly cared about me have treated me in the past. I am getting better about my turn-around - getting faster at shutting down those internal voices and better about asking for what I need in moments I feel vulnerable. 

Which doesn't at all mean that moments like capital-T Thursday don't still happen and knock me right back on my emotionally unstable ass. It's been just under a month of mental examination, conversations with my best friend, and trying to get back to my version of "normal."

Hence, Willful Girl returns to the therapist's office. Similar to the first time, it's in deference to Now-hubby recognizing that there's a problem. Contrastingly, Now-hubby's coming with me and we're talking things through together. Bless that man and his willingness to be there for me. 

Wednesday, July 20, 2016

Highly Contagious

After feeling not great the past few days, I took a half day off work and Now-hubby brought me to Urgent Care. One of my coworkers had already been out last week with strep throat, so I didn't have the highest of hopes in regards to my own wellness.

Downside? Yes, I have strep throat.

Upside? The nurse complimented me on my deep throat abilities during the throat swab. ("Oh, you're very good.")

My recommended course of treatment: 5 days of Azithromycin and 24 hours sick leave from work.

Which means I spent a bit of time this morning shopping for new sex toys. It's been awhile since I've added to my collection, I have a bit of extra income during the summer, and I've always wanted a butt plug with a jeweled base. Also treated myself to something made of glass, because that's a material I've wanted to experience but haven't as of yet. (I'll leave it up to your fantastically perverted minds, dear readers, as to which one I got.)

The rest of the day was spent in a weird state of not-quite-sick, not-quite-well stress. I had already taken 2 doses of the medication and was feeling better. I didn't, however, have the energy to accomplish anything beyond finishing Nurse Jackie and getting a few more episodes in on The Affair. Credit to my fantastic mental quirks for each time I tried to lay down and rest only to anxiously fidget for 20 minutes before getting back up. Difficult to sleep when my internal voices are running the show. The ones that echo out of the past on how if I was really felling sick I wouldn't be able to get out of bed. Or if I'm feeling so much better then why isn't anything getting done around the house today?

Those sentiments were repeated often when I was growing up. They weren't always directed at me, but were said enough within earshot for me to internalize them. People who are feeling sick are probably exaggerating, and there's absolutely nothing worse than having to take care of somebody else. I'm getting much better at shutting those internal voices down. When Now-hubby and I were first living together, me even thinking about taking a sick day could have been an all-night emotional ordeal. Today, when Now-hubby got home from work, I only cried for 10 minutes over the laundry before going into the kitchen and asking if I could have a hug. I don't know if I'll ever reach a point where I don't have to frantically fold laundry on the pretense that if nobody else is going to be mad at me, I'll just be mad at myself. It's bolstering to know that I'm still making progress, and that I can handle a slightly weakened immune system without having to completely impair my emotional system as well.

Saturday, July 16, 2016

The Very Spark

Abandoning all pretense, I just saved plans into Google calendar as "DP Date," because that's what the date is going to entail and I didn't want to waste keystrokes trying to be clever about it. I'll save the Sahara-dry wit for you all, dear readers.

Last Saturday, one of the other gentleman "on staff" at the gang bangs and I reached official peak boredom while downstairs watching a bunch of dudes' naked butts meander for spots around the women playing that evening. We started whispering play-by-play commentary to each other.

"Ah, here comes the rookie draft pick. He's an unknown talent, but he's showing promise."

"Jim, can we get the playback on that?"

"That's a strong contender for 'Fuck of the Night.' Definitely making the highlight reel."

There was also a new girl that evening who chastised me for being "mean" to one of the participating gentleman while I was chatting with him during social hour. Which just goes to show that, regardless of setting, my incredibly winning personality shines through.

Said gentleman and I actually know each other really well. He's used to my acerbic verbosity as an indicator of emotional affection. I relayed the information to him that I had been "kind of mean" and begged forgiveness in the prescribed method - on my knees.

Yesterday evening, I spent a fantastically platonic time with Newcastle. You know, because not everything in my life is blowjob innuendos. 

It's been a long time since I've written about Newcastle. This is not because we haven't been seeing each other. We didn't have to discontinue our friendship after we made out at a mutual friend's birthday party and he said he wasn't interested in being part of an open relationship structure. We did, however, spend a bit of time talking it over. Because there's one misconception about my "sexy" lifestyle that trumps all others: I'm more likely to wear out my jaw talking about all the intricacies of what everyone's doing and how everyone feels than I am to suffer strain due to the genitals I'm interacting with orally. 

The eventual summation: I'm a gigantic slut who's still got a significant crush on him. I'm also capable of respecting his relationship preferences and maintaining a platonic-ish decorum when we hang out.

For our date, we went out for conveyor belt sushi (our seat reservation number was 69, because even when I'm behaving myself, the Universe isn't.)

I bought him a milkshake on the way back to his place and teased him because the girl working the register clearly thought he was cute. We spent the remainder of the evening sipping whiskey while watching Clone High and the commentary track on a few Rick and Morty episodes.

Sunday, June 19, 2016

Home Alone

Update on testing status: I had my appointment this past Thursday. The gyno, along with a lecture about using condoms, did a cervical culture STD test. I'll go back in three months for a blood test (incubation periods for HIV being longer than for STDs that are tested by a culture test). 

In the meantime, both boys are gone for the weekend. Now-hubby has been off at Lakes of Fire since Tuesday night, and Frisbee left Friday night for a tournament with his club team. Here's what Willful Girl gets up to when she's on her own.

Friday night, I went as the +1 to a hotel party with a gentleman I know from the gang bangs. He had arranged it, invited one other couple he knew, and then that couple invited a couple they had played with before. Sex party networking at it's finest.

Highlights of the night included the husband from couple 1 and I unofficially taking over the hotel front desk for a bit while we waited for couple 2 to arrive. Ordering birthday cake for a gentleman that came in during our front desk take-over only to deliver it to the room he had said he'd be in and unwittingly stumbling upon another sexy party. 

Birthday boy was sadly not in the room (either I misremembered which room he said he'd be staying in or he lied about it). Hilarious coincidence nonetheless. The wife from couple 2 and I shared the cake in the hallway. Waste not, want not.

The wife from couple 2 and I then headed back to our appointed sex party where I took her into the bedroom. I sucked on her nipples and played with her clit while she gave her husband a blowjob. I put on a latex glove to finger her and experienced the amazing feeling that is a woman's orgasm around my fingers. 

I drove myself home around 2 in the morning, because Saturday morning at 9 am I had another gentleman coming over for morning sex and I wanted the pretense of sleep before that happened.

I actually set an alarm for 8:30am because if I have the chance to at least wash my face and brush my teeth, I feel moderately more sexy. 

Said gentleman arrived right at 9am, and we spent the next hour engaged in various activities including me fucking myself with a dildo while I gave him a blowjob. Near the end of our time together, he bent me over doggy style and slid his fingers in my ass while he fucked me. I had an orgasm that reduced me to jello, and after he left I fell back asleep for another few hours.

Wednesday, June 1, 2016

Fallable Girl

This past weekend I pitched my metaphorical tent and went back to frisbee camp. (Well, there's cabins at the campsite, so I wasn't even pitching a literal tent, know. Dick jokes at any cost.)

The gentleman I had met last year and I spent the week leading up to camp exchanging text messages about whether we were going to revisit our extracurricular activity schedule. As I was dragging my suitcase and a 24 pack of Modelo across the fields to the cabin my team had claimed, he yelled across from the entrance to another cabin where he had reserved the entire cabin just for us and pushed two beds together.

We'd also spent a bit of time discussing different things we'd be interested in trying this year, since we were planning on having more than just one evening to fraternize. That first Friday evening, I spent an astounding amount of time going down on him (my request). Then he pushed me face down into the mattress and fucked me in the ass (his request). This was all before the bonfire officially kicking off camp had even been lit. After rejoining the group, drinking around the fire, and eating some classic campfire food, we went back to the cabin and snuggled in the pushed together bed.

Saturday morning, I woke up to his hands running across my body and him kissing the back of my neck. I am a sucker for morning sex. There's something incredibly intimate about being probably at the most unappealing part of your day and not caring at all. (Seriously, just getting past somebody's morning breath sometimes... Not to mention puffy sleep face and how messed up your hair gets.)

We had left the condoms on a table across the cabin last night. After several minutes of him fingering me, me reaching back to stroke his dick, I arched back and he pushed into me. And I...didn't stop it. He didn't cum inside me, but there was a decent amount of continued, unprotected intercourse.

I want to be explicitly clear that this wasn't a forced situation. I'm not putting any blame on him and I'm trying to manage the amount of guilt I've felt about it since. It was a situation that shouldn't have happened, and I'm endeavoring to move forward responsibly.

Step one: Tell Now-hubby and Frisbee about it.

This was honestly the most difficult part. Even though they're amazingly understanding men, I had no idea how they were going to take this. It's one of our relationship guidelines that I'm fluid bonded to them, they're fluid bonded to me, but we use condoms when having sex with other people. Again, I'm incredibly lucky to have these two particular men in my life. Now-hubby was disappointed but knew I was already doing a decent job mentally berating myself. Frisbee told me it was okay not to be perfect and that telling him was the important thing. Both men have decided they're going to use condoms when they fuck me for the foreseeable future until -

Step two: Get myself tested.

Unless you're worried about pregnancy, there's not a lot you can do immediately after the fact when you've engaged in higher-risk sex. I had to tell the scheduling woman at my gynecologist's office this, which was surprising. She wanted to schedule me for an appointment ASAP after asking me sotto voce if I, "had reason to be concerned." Granted, she's only in charge of the schedule book, but being aware that incubation periods are a thing seems like it should be fairly important to know in any facet of an office that provides women's health services. (Here's a helpful little graphic about common STDs and their incubation periods.) I scheduled the appointment for a few weeks from now and we'll move forward depending on what the results say.