Intrepid readers, by way of Poly Weekly I heard of this article on non-monogamy that had been published in Cosmopolitan. Yes, Cosmopolitan.
And...I have absolutely nothing negative to say about the article.
It's a profile of 3 different folks who are each in some type of non-monogamous relationship. Two of the relationships profiled are not the healthiest (one is a cheater within the non-monogamous structure, and the other is a One Penis Policy set-up), but the author presents all three with minimal additional commentary, which is refreshing. It helps present the problems as based on the people within the relationships, not problems somehow unavoidable because of the structure of the relationships. The author puts emphasis on the idea that healthy relationship choices within non-monogamy (communication, honesty, flexibility) are also good ideas for monogamous relationships. Also, interspersed through the article are factoids about the history of non-monogamy and what's been found in studies about relationship satisfaction when people are open.
Good show, Cosmo.
Best to assume NSFW content. Ramblings on things that interest me and what's going on in my world. Some kink, some sex, some general strangeness.
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Thursday, January 28, 2016
Tuesday, January 26, 2016
Party all the time
This past Saturday was the final sexy party of January 2016.
Now-hubby and I headed to a CPP where there was about a 6:1 ratio of "experienced" folks to newbies. I continue to mention the ratios not because they really make a difference, but because I like meeting new people, so newbies are always fun. For example, at this party I had an engaging conversation with a gentleman who had moved to the United States from Germany. We talked about Döner, FKK (Freikörperkultur), and all the things there are to do in Berlin.
I met a fantastic woman and we traded stories about our tattoos.
I shyly asked the most handsome man I've ever seen if I could give him a kiss. A closed-mouth kiss (it being his first party he wasn't looking to do much beyond observe) that made me so flustered I couldn't speak afterwards.
Near the end of the party, one of the newbie women told me she'd never been fucked with a strap-on, and was curious if I'd be willing to fuck her with the Feeldoe.
I spent a majority of this party with my Feeldoe on (securely held in place by RodeoH briefs). It all began when one of the party hosts offered up "Sex Party Bingo" (think...standard bingo game but with things like "Eiffel Tower," "Blowjob," and "Multiple Orgasms" as categories to mark off). When it was made clear that I could initiate any of these categories in order to mark them off, I grabbed a lady I knew from several other parties and my Feeldoe. We quickly completed at least 4 categories (Now-hubby graciously helping with the Eiffel Tower).
Sex Party Bingo awakened my competitive nature regarding sexual activities. In other facets of my life, I'm disinterested in winning. I'm more the "have fun and heckle those who are taking it to seriously" type. Sex, though. Sex I want to do the best. Similar to my squirrely nature when I'm among normatives, I tend to get hyper-sexual at sexy parties. It's the same behavior with a different impetus. Among normatives it's because I feel as though I have to somehow re-establish myself.
At sex parties it's the overwhelming positivity of being in a group of like-minded people that makes me fidget until I can finally get all my clothes off.
Being in a group of thirty other people who I feel comfortable being naked around is a hell of an anxiety take-down. Whether we're going to be fucking each other or just talking about great vacations we've taken, I enjoy the opportunity to literally bare myself without risk. As one of the gentlemen at the party eloquently put it, asking for what you want and using clear communication at sex parties is extremely good practice for when you have to utilize those same skills with all your clothes on out in the real world.
Thursday, January 21, 2016
Black Tie Affairs
As promised, here are continued updates on my weekly party activities in January 2016.
The gang bang happened two weeks ago Saturday. I didn't write an entry about it because there wasn't much to say. I had been feeling sort of under the weather all day, but got really light-headed and nauseous shortly after signing everybody in and wound up going home early. Turns out I had a mild flu bug, and I spent the next two days huddled under a blanket eating plain toast and soup broth. One of those times where I was really glad I was just working the party and not participating. Condoms don't protect against the common cold.
This past Friday Now-Hubby and I headed back to one of the CPP style parties. I had just started my period, but I knew the majority of the people who were going to be attending, and I knew they would be okay with me keeping my Meeseeks leggings on the entire evening and performing more as a service slut (sans penetrative sex). And hopefully be okay with me not exploding once a requested sexual task was performed.
I got to give a back rub to one woman, some G-spot stimulation to another, two blowjobs to two different gentleman, and facilitated G-spot lady being strap-on fucked by another woman. And I didn't explode. Huzzah.
Once the party had pretty much cleared out (around 1am), there were about five of the total twenty people still left around the house. Now-hubby and I were downstairs chatting with the hosts when one of my favorite examples of What Not To Do At A Sex Party came stumbling downstairs. Tip #1 if you're ever planning on attending a sex party (and you probably should at some point, because they're pretty awesome), do not get schwasted. Yes, there will be nerves if it's your first time. You may be unsure of the party etiquette, whether you'll get along with anybody else at the party, whether you'll get along with anybody (if you catch my drift). Getting super drunk in order to alleviate these concerns? The worst possible solution you could manage.
If you're nervous about a party or having any type of feels during a party, there is almost always a party host/organizer who will be willing to talk to you. In every variation of party I've been to, there has been at least one person I'd feel comfortable voicing concerns to. And I'm an apologetic Midwesterner with social anxiety.
After this gentleman finished the jungle juice concoction he had brought downstairs with him, we were regaled with a half hour soliloquy about how the party had been "too formal" for him (because nothing indicates civility like a bunch of naked people).
In his defense, it seemed he's more accustomed to the style of party where there's some pretense for a group to gather and then he gets to drunkenly woo one of the female partygoers into blowing him in the spare bedroom. So having to actually speak with a person about preferences or safer sex practices is a total mood ruiner.
Oh, and how condoms are stupid because as a person with a penis he's just statistically less likely to get an STI, and has actually had twelve different doctors refuse to test him for HIV. At which point I found it necessary to turn to Now-hubby (bless his cis straight male-ness sometiems) and verify that he's only ever seen one doctor, and said doctor didn't so much as blink when Now-hubby wanted to get tested for HIV. When Sloshy McVodkabreath decided to continue to argue the point, I decided to invite one of the hosts to the other side of the room to make out with me.
Sexy couch make-outs > cyclical drunken arguments.
The gang bang happened two weeks ago Saturday. I didn't write an entry about it because there wasn't much to say. I had been feeling sort of under the weather all day, but got really light-headed and nauseous shortly after signing everybody in and wound up going home early. Turns out I had a mild flu bug, and I spent the next two days huddled under a blanket eating plain toast and soup broth. One of those times where I was really glad I was just working the party and not participating. Condoms don't protect against the common cold.
This past Friday Now-Hubby and I headed back to one of the CPP style parties. I had just started my period, but I knew the majority of the people who were going to be attending, and I knew they would be okay with me keeping my Meeseeks leggings on the entire evening and performing more as a service slut (sans penetrative sex). And hopefully be okay with me not exploding once a requested sexual task was performed.
I got to give a back rub to one woman, some G-spot stimulation to another, two blowjobs to two different gentleman, and facilitated G-spot lady being strap-on fucked by another woman. And I didn't explode. Huzzah.
Once the party had pretty much cleared out (around 1am), there were about five of the total twenty people still left around the house. Now-hubby and I were downstairs chatting with the hosts when one of my favorite examples of What Not To Do At A Sex Party came stumbling downstairs. Tip #1 if you're ever planning on attending a sex party (and you probably should at some point, because they're pretty awesome), do not get schwasted. Yes, there will be nerves if it's your first time. You may be unsure of the party etiquette, whether you'll get along with anybody else at the party, whether you'll get along with anybody (if you catch my drift). Getting super drunk in order to alleviate these concerns? The worst possible solution you could manage.
If you're nervous about a party or having any type of feels during a party, there is almost always a party host/organizer who will be willing to talk to you. In every variation of party I've been to, there has been at least one person I'd feel comfortable voicing concerns to. And I'm an apologetic Midwesterner with social anxiety.
After this gentleman finished the jungle juice concoction he had brought downstairs with him, we were regaled with a half hour soliloquy about how the party had been "too formal" for him (because nothing indicates civility like a bunch of naked people).
In his defense, it seemed he's more accustomed to the style of party where there's some pretense for a group to gather and then he gets to drunkenly woo one of the female partygoers into blowing him in the spare bedroom. So having to actually speak with a person about preferences or safer sex practices is a total mood ruiner.
Oh, and how condoms are stupid because as a person with a penis he's just statistically less likely to get an STI, and has actually had twelve different doctors refuse to test him for HIV. At which point I found it necessary to turn to Now-hubby (bless his cis straight male-ness sometiems) and verify that he's only ever seen one doctor, and said doctor didn't so much as blink when Now-hubby wanted to get tested for HIV. When Sloshy McVodkabreath decided to continue to argue the point, I decided to invite one of the hosts to the other side of the room to make out with me.
Sexy couch make-outs > cyclical drunken arguments.
Thursday, January 7, 2016
Give up hope
Remember those people I keep in touch with on Facebook? Well, today my timeline vomited out this spectacular gem of a relationship advice article: 5 reasons marriage doesn't work anymore.
Strap in, dear readers. This one has it all.
We'll start with the myriad of other articles just like this one that already exist in the world. You've seen them around. Some neatly compiled list of seemingly no-brainer bullshit on ways to behave if you want to find that one twu wuv everybody's supposed to be striving for. And yet there's only two types of authors that wind up writing lists like this. 1. Those who have managed to find their twu wuv and want to regale us with how to be just as blissfully happy. 2. Those who are in the middle of a breakup and want to warn us what to avoid.
The author of this particular list is the second variety. Been married for about 11 years, then...I dunno. Shit happened. It's difficult from his article to pin down exactly why he decided to get a divorce, but I think the point is for us not to know. Because, everybody, this article is totally not about the author's marriage at all. It's about how fucking everybody in their mid- to late 20's is completely incapable of being married. This list has absolutely nothing to do with petty arguments the author used to get in with his wife. Don't worry, this is made very clear by excessive use of the royal "we." We're all fuck-ups. We're all doomed.
Immediately, people will assume that my failed marriage is why I am expressing these emotions; that's not the case. It's what I see around me every single day that inspired me to write this article.
Just a thought. Bear with me here. If you're really concerned about people getting the wrong impression, maybe put this disclaimer at the beginning of your article, and not as one of the final paragraphs, which is where I'm pulling it from.
Anyway. Let's skip back to the beginning and figure out why we all suck so much.
Back when I met my ex-wife in 2004, things were just so different.
Different how? Did they both have 3 extra arms that they had to have surgically removed? Was the world covered with a giant sheet of ice that has just in the past few years started to melt?
Nah. He's just talking about how people can text each other now instead of having to make a phone call.
Oh, and how he used to have to drive over to her house if he wanted to talk to her. If physical distance was that important to his romantic inclinations, I wonder why they didn't remain in separate houses even after getting married. You can't drive to her house if you live in the same house, silly goose! Maybe invest in a go-cart so you can drive that from kitchen to bedroom. Rekindle the romance.
"When we met things were different." No shit, Sherlock. If you're not the kind of person that can handle change and the passage of time maybe instead of a church just hold your ceremony in a sealed time capsule.
1. Sex becomes almost non-existent.
It's a chicken and the egg argument when it comes to sexual imbalance within relationships. Where does the problem actually lie? r/DeadBedrooms is an entire community conducting conversations on why one person doesn't want to bang as often as the other person in the partnership does. It's one of the greatest caveats about monogamous relationships - the idea that exclusivity equals homogeneity. I think it's possible for two people to have complimentary sex drives and similar ideals as far as the performance frequency of sexual acts is concerned. I also think it's possible for people's sex drives and interest in assorted sexual acts to vary over time, and that it's ridiculous to expect any other person to be able to inimitably match every change. As for how long people withstand that mismatch, or how they decide to address it when it happens, that's completely up to them. None of my business.
It's not just boredom that stops sex from happening. Everywhere you look, there's pictures of men and women we know half naked - some look better than your husband or wife. So it becomes desirable. It's in your face every single day and changes your mindset.
Everywhere you look.
I hate this rhetoric so much. "Better" is such a subjective judgement. It implies some sort of "most sexy" award that's constantly changing and dependent on the whims and preferred aesthetic of the person deciding it.
It's like telling someone you'll take them out to a restaurant but they can't order food.
He's making a comparison to being married but not getting laid as often as you'd like. It's the most disgusting line in the entire article.
Reason 2 is because we're so much poorer now. I don't have too much to say about this section. The author does mention in the beginning of this article that figuring out why marriages fail is the "million dollar question," though, so I'm fairly certain by writing down these 5 clarifying traits he's doing a lot better financially.
Reason 3 is the future.
You told your wife you made dinner reservations...through a text message. Your husband had flowers delivered to your job...through an app on his phone. You both searched for furnishings for your new home...on Pinterest.
All of these romantic gestures are inherently less romantic because they've been accomplished with the help of technology. Fuck you and your robot flowers.
Somehow, we've learned to get offended by text on a screen, accusing others of being "angry" or "sad" when, in fact, we have no idea what they are feeling. We argue about this - at length.
Again, remember. He didn't argue about this. We do.
You want to know why your grandmother and grandfather just celebrated their 60th wedding anniversary? Because they weren't scrolling through Instagram worrying about what John ate for dinner.
Wednesday, January 6, 2016
The one where I'm on Season 3 of Six Feet Under
It's always been on my list of "someday I'll get around to actually watching this," and I've been gradually making my way through episodes. Over Winter Break I worked my way through Season 2, which means tonight I was on Season 3, Episode 2. "You Never Know." Alternatively titled "Nah, You Always Know Straight People are Terrible."
Overall, I'm liking the series. Not knock-my-socks-off, but enjoyable. It's got plenty of really good moments and subtle commentary about various aspects of the human condition. Season 3, Episode 2 is a fucking deluge of not-so-subtle commentary about how much straight couples are Terrible.
Nate and Lisa. Oh, lord, Nate and Lisa. Where does one even begin with this episode?
Let's start with the chaste, spooning-style, under the covers banging that they have to stop because their baby is in the same room as them. The baby that up until now they've let sleep family-style with them. Because apparently feeding your infant a spoonful of peanut butter could possibly kill them but putting a very small, soft baby into a bed between two adults will definitely never mean that one of those adults will roll over in their sleep and crush said soft, small baby.
(Spoilers: later in the episode you see that they still sleep family-style, so I guess baby Maya is just relegated to her crib when Mommy and Daddy want to have the type of sex they can maintain a coherent conversation during. Also, yeah, I just used an image from the show in an entry about the show.)
Let's continue with how Nate is all, "omg, hello?" when he opens the door for dinner and his brother David is kissing his partner Keith. Guh-ross! Only monogamous, straight couples are allowed to show any type of affection. And now that Nate isn't with that slut Brenda, he can go back to having the type of really meaningful sex that only people in twu wuv can have. You know, the type that's completely under the covers, but it's early morning or some shit so the two of them can bask equally in the sun's glow as they're basking in how much better their relationship is than anybody else's. (Brenda was probably a sex addict anyway? I mean, she did pack that book about sex addiction in with her stuff when she decided to abruptly leave town after Nate said he didn't want her around anymore.)
Exhibit 3. The conversation during dinner about how Lisa is so sad for David and Keith because they have to be in couple's counseling. Lisa and Nate never fight. Oh wait, except for that time earlier in the day when Lisa was cleaning the baby's ears and Nate got all butt hurt about how she was going to deep (no complaints about that during the humping, Nate a-yooooo) and was going to hurt the baby. Oh, or that time right after dinner I mean just after she was all, "my relationship is perfect we never fight" when her and Nate get in an argument about what damn laundry detergent he used to was the clothes. Because one brand gives the baby a rash! I'm with you on this one, Nate. Why the fuck do you even have the other brand around the house then?
Also, not a complaint about Nate and Lisa, but goddamnit Claire and guitar playing fuck boy (I forget his actual name whatever he plays in a band and has a gigantic tattoo that dick is probably pretty good) you almost could have done the open relationship thing. Or at least had the conversation. Why'd it have to be all him: "yeah I just want to fuck other people wild oats, etc" vs. her: "I thought we were in love?!!" Ugh! Straight People.
In superbly good news, this episode featured Kathy Bates.
Overall, I'm liking the series. Not knock-my-socks-off, but enjoyable. It's got plenty of really good moments and subtle commentary about various aspects of the human condition. Season 3, Episode 2 is a fucking deluge of not-so-subtle commentary about how much straight couples are Terrible.
Nate and Lisa. Oh, lord, Nate and Lisa. Where does one even begin with this episode?
Let's start with the chaste, spooning-style, under the covers banging that they have to stop because their baby is in the same room as them. The baby that up until now they've let sleep family-style with them. Because apparently feeding your infant a spoonful of peanut butter could possibly kill them but putting a very small, soft baby into a bed between two adults will definitely never mean that one of those adults will roll over in their sleep and crush said soft, small baby.
(Spoilers: later in the episode you see that they still sleep family-style, so I guess baby Maya is just relegated to her crib when Mommy and Daddy want to have the type of sex they can maintain a coherent conversation during. Also, yeah, I just used an image from the show in an entry about the show.)
Let's continue with how Nate is all, "omg, hello?" when he opens the door for dinner and his brother David is kissing his partner Keith. Guh-ross! Only monogamous, straight couples are allowed to show any type of affection. And now that Nate isn't with that slut Brenda, he can go back to having the type of really meaningful sex that only people in twu wuv can have. You know, the type that's completely under the covers, but it's early morning or some shit so the two of them can bask equally in the sun's glow as they're basking in how much better their relationship is than anybody else's. (Brenda was probably a sex addict anyway? I mean, she did pack that book about sex addiction in with her stuff when she decided to abruptly leave town after Nate said he didn't want her around anymore.)
Exhibit 3. The conversation during dinner about how Lisa is so sad for David and Keith because they have to be in couple's counseling. Lisa and Nate never fight. Oh wait, except for that time earlier in the day when Lisa was cleaning the baby's ears and Nate got all butt hurt about how she was going to deep (no complaints about that during the humping, Nate a-yooooo) and was going to hurt the baby. Oh, or that time right after dinner I mean just after she was all, "my relationship is perfect we never fight" when her and Nate get in an argument about what damn laundry detergent he used to was the clothes. Because one brand gives the baby a rash! I'm with you on this one, Nate. Why the fuck do you even have the other brand around the house then?
Also, not a complaint about Nate and Lisa, but goddamnit Claire and guitar playing fuck boy (I forget his actual name whatever he plays in a band and has a gigantic tattoo that dick is probably pretty good) you almost could have done the open relationship thing. Or at least had the conversation. Why'd it have to be all him: "yeah I just want to fuck other people wild oats, etc" vs. her: "I thought we were in love?!!" Ugh! Straight People.
In superbly good news, this episode featured Kathy Bates.
Monday, January 4, 2016
Chinese New Year
In which Now-hubby, Frisbee, and I found ourselves at a sex party in Chicago's Chinatown. Which is to say, we were invited to a New Years Eve sex party. Not that we just randomly appeared in somebody's house and joyously announced, "take your clothes off it's time to bone!"
The format was similar to CPP parties I've been to in the past. Good ratio of experienced folks to newbies (maybe 25% new). The type of party where, once we had gone over the rules and done the general introductions, there wasn't an incredibly lengthy period of time where people kept their clothes on, munched on finger food, and had awkward conversations hoping to reach a point where they could have sex without actually having to say that they wanted to have sex.
Which is not to say that the only function of sex parties is getting your smash on. I'm just the type of impatient bitch who, if you invite me to an occasion where there's going to be condoms put out next to the bed and a variety of dildos on the living room table for people to experiment with, that's not my favorite time to make small talk about what I do for a living and how long I've been in my current relationship. I can certainly have either of those conversations and get my freak on at a sex party. If I wanted to do just the former, I'd go out to dinner with Stan and Sarah Straightperson from down the block.
For example, I had a really great time at the New Years Eve party with a couple that I've seen around at a few parties before but never gotten a chance to connect with. Turns out the male half of the couple has family from the same frozen tundra where I grew up. We spent a hilarious half hour or so talking about growing up there and how we both moved away because we had interests outside of getting drunk, repressing feelings, or hunting. Later in the evening, I climbed on top of his dick while his partner sat on his face and we high-fived over his belly, forming the magical female version of the Eiffel Tower.
This is the first CPP Now-hubby, Frisbee, and I had attended together. Frisbee and I have the gang bang parties. Now-hubby has been to a few of the CPP parties with me. No matter how long I've been doing the nonmonogamy thing, circumstances arise that knock me completely off my competence rocker. This CPP was an awesome mix of people, a great variety of activities, and also a completely new experience for the three of us. I want to dispel the myth that once you get involved in any type of open relationship, all you have to do is acknowledge your openness and everything else will fall naturally into place. Like waving a wand. *poof* Now your'e nonmonogamous.
You and your partner can date, fuck, and generally be involved with all sorts of other people in all sorts of other situations and you don't have a thing to worry about because that's what normal relationships worry about.
I've found more regularly that every new person, every new situation throws everything I thought I knew about my feelings crumpled to the floor. Infinite possibilities mean each scenario has to be evaluated as it happens. The more people involved, the more possibilities arise. The more individuals' perspectives have to be taken into account and discussed. It's why I'm still so squicky about having set rules.
There was a moment at this party where Frisbee was having sex on one side of the room while I was having sex on the other side of the room. The person I was having sex with and I finished up, so I sat on the couch for a bit and watched Frisbee and his partner. Something I've done multitudes of times at the gang bang parties and enjoyed. Something I didn't really have an issue with this time, either. I just reached my maximum voyeur limit and had to go upstairs. Since I hadn't clearly expressed this to Frisbee, though, he interpreted my leaving the room as something he had done wrong. The rest of the evening didn't provide much of an opportunity for us to reconnect and talk about it, so unfortunately feelings simmered for longer than they should have. There were lots of drunken 3am tears (mine) and plenty of sighs and sorries (his) once we got home.
It was one of those moments that one can't really plan for in a poly relationship. Saying, "we'll check in more frequently during parties" discounts all the ones where thing have gone perfectly fine. There isn't a rule that can be stated that won't be restrictive and at some point resented. At the end of the night, poly relationships (like any relationships, ideally) have to rely on people's ability to communicate with each other and having the strength to visit an unpleasant moment and get better afterwards. "If you're ever not 100% sure of how I'm feeling and want to check in, please do that. No matter what else is going on."
Stay tuned, dear readers. January is the month of parties this year. One every week. I'll keep ya'll posted.
The format was similar to CPP parties I've been to in the past. Good ratio of experienced folks to newbies (maybe 25% new). The type of party where, once we had gone over the rules and done the general introductions, there wasn't an incredibly lengthy period of time where people kept their clothes on, munched on finger food, and had awkward conversations hoping to reach a point where they could have sex without actually having to say that they wanted to have sex.
Which is not to say that the only function of sex parties is getting your smash on. I'm just the type of impatient bitch who, if you invite me to an occasion where there's going to be condoms put out next to the bed and a variety of dildos on the living room table for people to experiment with, that's not my favorite time to make small talk about what I do for a living and how long I've been in my current relationship. I can certainly have either of those conversations and get my freak on at a sex party. If I wanted to do just the former, I'd go out to dinner with Stan and Sarah Straightperson from down the block.
For example, I had a really great time at the New Years Eve party with a couple that I've seen around at a few parties before but never gotten a chance to connect with. Turns out the male half of the couple has family from the same frozen tundra where I grew up. We spent a hilarious half hour or so talking about growing up there and how we both moved away because we had interests outside of getting drunk, repressing feelings, or hunting. Later in the evening, I climbed on top of his dick while his partner sat on his face and we high-fived over his belly, forming the magical female version of the Eiffel Tower.
This is the first CPP Now-hubby, Frisbee, and I had attended together. Frisbee and I have the gang bang parties. Now-hubby has been to a few of the CPP parties with me. No matter how long I've been doing the nonmonogamy thing, circumstances arise that knock me completely off my competence rocker. This CPP was an awesome mix of people, a great variety of activities, and also a completely new experience for the three of us. I want to dispel the myth that once you get involved in any type of open relationship, all you have to do is acknowledge your openness and everything else will fall naturally into place. Like waving a wand. *poof* Now your'e nonmonogamous.
You and your partner can date, fuck, and generally be involved with all sorts of other people in all sorts of other situations and you don't have a thing to worry about because that's what normal relationships worry about.
I've found more regularly that every new person, every new situation throws everything I thought I knew about my feelings crumpled to the floor. Infinite possibilities mean each scenario has to be evaluated as it happens. The more people involved, the more possibilities arise. The more individuals' perspectives have to be taken into account and discussed. It's why I'm still so squicky about having set rules.
There was a moment at this party where Frisbee was having sex on one side of the room while I was having sex on the other side of the room. The person I was having sex with and I finished up, so I sat on the couch for a bit and watched Frisbee and his partner. Something I've done multitudes of times at the gang bang parties and enjoyed. Something I didn't really have an issue with this time, either. I just reached my maximum voyeur limit and had to go upstairs. Since I hadn't clearly expressed this to Frisbee, though, he interpreted my leaving the room as something he had done wrong. The rest of the evening didn't provide much of an opportunity for us to reconnect and talk about it, so unfortunately feelings simmered for longer than they should have. There were lots of drunken 3am tears (mine) and plenty of sighs and sorries (his) once we got home.
It was one of those moments that one can't really plan for in a poly relationship. Saying, "we'll check in more frequently during parties" discounts all the ones where thing have gone perfectly fine. There isn't a rule that can be stated that won't be restrictive and at some point resented. At the end of the night, poly relationships (like any relationships, ideally) have to rely on people's ability to communicate with each other and having the strength to visit an unpleasant moment and get better afterwards. "If you're ever not 100% sure of how I'm feeling and want to check in, please do that. No matter what else is going on."
Stay tuned, dear readers. January is the month of parties this year. One every week. I'll keep ya'll posted.
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