Friday, June 16, 2017

Willful Girl Flies First Class

There was a certain amount of activity that I anticipated when making the decision to be open within relationships.

I had seen monogamy and how the majority of those who were monogamous had this weird, sitcom-esque unhappiness about them. A perpetual playback of, "this doesn't make me happy but I guess it's better than nothing." If only there was a better way!

Which is not to say that I haven't encountered this same attitude within nonmonogamy. There's unhappy couples everywhere. Not so subtly masking their unhappiness with witty comments or fatigued asides; they ring all the more hollow without accompanying laugh tracks or the sympathetic "awww" of a stock audience recording. After testing the relationship waters in my formative years, I made a conscious decision to not only be open, but to be Brian Kinney open. Me first. My happiness paramount. Allow others to get close, certainly, but always keep an inner sanctuary that's purely me. I protect that shit fiercely.

Imagine it as a small Airstream trailer. I've got the interior to myself. Sure, it's cluttered. Everything probably has a faint smell of pot smoke to it. Sometimes unexpected garbage I thought I had cleared out starts piling back in through the windows and I have to step outside before I get buried like one of those people on Hoarders. It's not always perfect, but it's always me.

The exterior I have less control over. Thankfully, I don't hang out with the type of people who think scrawling, "wash me" into a layer of dust is the epitome of humor. To bring the analogy full circle, I knew when I decided to be open that I was parking my Airstream in more of a music festival, open field lot. That I might be visited by people who were at the festival to see the same musician I was (read: people who are into the same things I am, have the same kinks, same interests, etc.), but that I had just as much of a chance of meeting people who were there to see different acts. The important part has been allowing visitors, regardless of taste variety, to leave something on the outside of the Airstream. A cool bumper sticker, some Sharpie artwork, one of those kitschy lawn flamingos...maybe just a smashed beer can.

This past weekend, I added a new bumper sticker to my Airstream. The Cuddler (a gentleman I know from the gang bangs and figured was worth giving him a moniker for purposes of this entry) offered me a sugar-daddy style, 4 day vacation before I officially started Summer School. The type of experience that far exceeded anything I had anticipated when I made the decision to be open. (Which is not to say that we didn't schedule time to fuck in addition to sight seeing and shopping for touristy souvenirs.)

I'm fundamentally a blue collar girl, so allowing such extravagance, especially somebody else providing it for me, took a bit of mental justification. Thankfully, there's enough of a hedonist underneath that blue collar to get around any economic misgivings and allow myself to enjoy the experience. Dear readers, this trip changed not only the exterior of my Airstream, but made me update the interior as well. For 4 days, I adopted a policy of saying yes, and it was...amazing. Metaphorically, I took that sheer, separating curtain from the plane when I left business class and hung it up on the wall of my internal sanctuary. A reminder it's not so bad every once in awhile to sit with a complimentary glass of wine and just be happy.

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