Schedule of events

Honestly, all other benefits of being open aside, my favorite part is sometimes just getting to sit home and enjoy a semi-evening to myself. I say semi-evening only because Frisbee gets home much later than I do. Tonight Now-hubby is off seeing his new girlfriend (for sake of anonymity I'll call her Red Velvet, because those are the kind of cupcakes she brought when we met for the first time). So it's just Frisbee and I around the house, which means I have a good three hours or so between when I get home and when he does.

Three hours which I pretty exclusively devote to the "LGBT movies" section of my Netflix cue.

Tonights feature: The Way He Looks

In the vein of things I'd recommend checking out, The German forwarded along this article a few days ago. Decent commentary on the current feminist movement, "sex positivity," and female sexual empowerment. Worth a read through.

I bet he smelt devine

I spent yesterday afternoon having a discussion with one of the gents at frisbee about how he's not exclusive with a lady, as in they haven't done the "boyfriend/girlfriend" distinction thing yet, but they've both agreed that they're going to continue to date only each other.

I guess the end-game of this approach is they decide they're going to be terminology exclusive after a few more dates, or things wind up in termination territory.

The moral of the story being that I can't keep track of all the different ways monogamous people keep coming up with to complicate their relationships.

Also, I've realized I have two ways of reacting when having to be around straight people for extended periods of time. 1. Get depressed about how I don't fit the mold or understand the parlance, and spend the rest of the night being pouty and surly. 2. Get frustrated, squirrelly, and horny.

Thankfully, yesterday was an instance of the latter. Now-hubby and I were scheduled to attend a sex party together that evening, so the deviant sexual energy I had built up had a good outlet.

The highlight of the evening being one of the men who wore a snap button-up shirt. If you've never had the opportunity to rip a man's shirt down the buttons, I highly recommend it. So...so satisfying.

I feel as though I disappoint people who are looking for extra-steamy details about the parties I attend with stories like this. When the highlight was hugging a guy, smelling his Calvin Klein cologne, then ripping the snap buttons open on his shirt and rubbing my nipples against his chest.

That's the fantastic thing about the parties I go to, though. The range of activities available. So, yes, I get to do things as mild as french kissing a handsome, shirtless man after I've ripped his shirt open.

I also get to squirt all over an air mattress while Now-hubby rocked the Njoy Pure Wand inside me. (Can not recommend enough. This toy is phenomenal.)

The one where I watch Her

Yes, I realize I'm woefully behind schedule on my movie reviews. If you're interested in something more current, Frisbee and I went to see Pawn Sacrifice tonight. My suggestion for that movie is to go in knowing more about chess than I do, because I spent the entire time thinking, "this is the one where you're supposed to make the other guy's King piece not be able to move? That's chess, right?"

But Now-hubby and I also sat down this evening to finish Her. We watched it in three installments over the past week. Mostly due to the fact that I had a terrific head cold for a few days and couldn't properly focus on a 2+ hour film and be taking as many anti-histamines as I was, so we had to break the movie into more manageable watching periods.

I have...a lot of thoughts about Her.

The main one being - WHERE THE FUCK ARE THE KEYBOARDS?

Okay, so that's not my overall take-away from the movie. I have a lot of conflicting, possibly confrontational thoughts about the way the film addresses relationships. But before I delve too much into that, I want to pinpoint this one aspect of the "near future" environment in which the film is placed.

Because if there's one thing that would make this blog entry better, it's if I could speak it out loud and my computer would put all my words down with seemingly no functional ability to go back and edit and/or review what I've written.

For me, it seems really awkward and sort of not-an-advancement to have to interact with computers verbally. Not just once OS have personalities and shit. Generally. How did Theodore edit his letters before he could ask his OS Samantha to review them for him? And she so nicely pulls up the letter with standard proofreading marks on it, which Theodore is supposed to go back and edit...how? Perhaps I'm forgetting a pivotal scene where somebody uses a keyboard to input information onto their desktop, but as far as I remember this future society is completely based off having to speak to your computer and maybe do some hand-waving over a gently lit sensor to control things on screen.

Anyway, moving past that technological nit-pick. My second take-away from Her is that Joaquin Phoenix is a fucking phenomenal actor. There's a fair amount of tight shots of just his face while he listens to Samantha say something (she exists pretty much in an earbud that only Theodore can hear for the majority of the movie), and that motherfucker emotes eloquently. Bravo.

I have a bit of difficulty unpacking my feelings on this movie as far as how it portrays relationships. On the one hand I think it does a good job illustrating the common issues and miscommunications that happen in every relationship structure. There's good commentary on serial monogamy - Theodore finalizing the divorce of his previous marriage affects his relationship with Samantha because if that once happy relationship can flounder, what's to say his with Samantha won't also? There's good commentary on what happens when "fidelity" isn't clearly discussed and defined within a relationship - 600+ other human users in a few weeks? Get it, girl.  There's good commentary on open relationship structures - Samantha at one point finds a woman who's willing to be a surrogate body for her and participate in the physical aspects of the relationship that Samantha's not able to. There's good commentary on how people just generally talk without listening to each other. How people within relationships eventually change and grow and how sometimes the relationship isn't strong enough to support those changes.

On the other hand (SPOILERS), I think the audience gets an easy out at the end with Theodore and his neighbor up on the roof of their apartment building. He's divorced, she's divorced - they've talked each other through their respective relationships and break-ups through the course of the film, so it's a clearly platonic relationship but the emotional potential is there. The OS have realized they're totally superior and probably have way better things to be doing than reading a bunch of boring emails for people and being jerk-off fodder for guys like Theodore who are completely incapable of relating to women who aren't specifically programmed and then conditioned to exist solely within their world-view. (That's a bit harsh. Theodore's not a terrible person, and he does go through some good character development and growth through the course of the film. The movie does a fair job taking down the premise of "love" when the relationship is based on two people primarily working and interacting only with each other.) Just before the credits role, Theodore's neighbor puts her head down on his shoulder. And, for me, that's not too far of a stretch where I can hear the straight girls going, "oh my god see? It's okay because he learned he has to love a real human lady." And that's such not the message of the film. It would have been just as easy to not include her head on his shoulder - to not allow that possible progression to the next romantic relationship. Meh.

Wanna cyber?

Disclaimer: I love sexting.

If we've hooked up in the past and otherwise have an amicable relationship, there's a strong possibility that you've, at some point, received a racy photo of my areas. (Word of advice to everyone taking this to mean that I love un-asked for pictures of everyone else's areas: virtual consent is just as important as in-person consent. Make sure the recipient is interested in receiving the pic before hitting "send.")

Exchanging precisely posed photos with increasingly flirtatious texts is a natural pass-time for me. It's a way to build up anticipation before a sexy date with somebody, a way to indicate continued sexual interest in somebody who may have moved away, or just a way to share the incredibly bubbly feeling of how great it is to be naked.

The history of this is my adolescence dovetailing with the widespread availability of the Internet. Sitting in the blue light from the PC monitor, I'd browse the more adult-oriented chat rooms, read what others were writing to each other, and squeeze my thighs together.

I learned how to give myself an orgasm by finding forums about it online. When I was squeezing my thighs together, I recognized that tight, almost-like-you-have-to-pee feeling as something that could definitely be brought farther than I was. The first time I found the exact pressure from the faucet in the bathtub and had to pull myself back with my legs shaking and my vision over-saturated with light, I was fucking hooked.

There's a similar anticipation now when I'm sexting with somebody. There's a singular thrill to not being able to be with a person physically, but being able to imagine them experiencing the same tightness in their lower abdomen as they browse the photos I'm sending them. I enjoy sexting because, if you do it right, it's like prolonged foreplay. Each photo takes consideration of lighting, positioning, and intent. Waiting on those little message reply dots from the person I'm sexting is a fantastic erotic build-up.

Sit back and enjoy

The fucking worst thing about having the kind of mental processes I do is being unable to watch Moulin Rouge without wondering if I shouldn't like it as much because it's essentially a story about the good boy "reforming" a bad girl.