Blow out the candles

For the few of you who've wandered here from my guest-spot on The Swingset, welcome.

It's Now-hubby's birthday weekend, and it also happened to be his Friday. Which meant he and I went out to a delicious sushi dinner Friday night once I got home from having an after-work drink with Frisbee. After dinner, Now-hubby and I walked to one of the local, small liquor stores that seems as if all its employees have a dress code including beards and zip-up hoodies over flannel button-downs. If it's not an IPA, they probably aren't able to give you any recommendations.

Yesterday during the day, Now-hubby went to the arcade with friends while I had Ultimate club team tryouts. Then, in the evening, Frisbee and I went to ye ol' gang bang and Now-hubby had the house to himself to do...whatever it is he does when he's on his own.

I offer this brief account of our weekend plans to help illustrate an aspect of nonmonogamy that I think tends to get overlooked, especially by those taking their first tentative steps into it. It's one of those things that's always in the periphery when I hear other people talk about their relationships, but a few isolated cases during the week put it back center.

Being in an open relationship is fundamentally different than being monogamous, but there are basic tenets of healthy relationships that should be present regardless of format.

It's difficult to elucidate without getting too long winded and cyclical. To briefly describe the pattern I've noticed that frequently leads to a stumbling block: Single person begins dating other single person. Either (or both) single people decide to make the relationship "exclusive," which means the establishment of the "couple" entity. It's weird, because the individual people are still there; you can see them; when you can get them away from their significant other it's even almost like they're sort of the same person still. But there's also this new "couple" amalgamation, and everything starts to be stupidly different because of that attachment.

It's the loss of autonomy within a relationship. Annoying within the monogamous structure, but a complete and utter obstacle when it comes to being open. Beyond the utter repugnance that is unicorn hunters, it is incredibly difficult to be open and conduct the entire relationship as a twosome. I feel as though couples get into that monogamous headspace and then decide to open up, but are unprepared for the amount of change that their relationship structure needs to undergo. (Disclaimer: Fine. I'm sure some of you are making it work as a twosome. Kudos. Congratulations on all the extra work you have to put in to maintain the blissful deceit that you're not like those other couples.)

Something as basic as going on a date with another person becomes needlessly complex. Arguments arise because the individual tastes of both partners need to be considered. They've been romantically operating so long as "we" it's almost impossible to retroactively change and have individual opinions again.

I'm not saying this one weekend should be a guidepost for everybody considering nonmonogamy. Club tryouts and arcade games do not a perfect relationship make. We still struggle through our own bullshit. I do think it's important to maintain oneself as well as one's relationship. Keep your own interests and opinions. Preach it, mama.

Your Mileage May Vary

Before we officially begin: I'm going to use the term "Vanilla" a few times in this entry. For those of you who might be confused, I'm not talking about the seasoning commonly used in baking. It's another term for straight people. If you're the type that thinks it's an offensive term, I'm not sorry. The following entry serves only to illustrate the variance in cultural views I experience around sexuality and relationships. In the short span of three weekends, I've run the gamut of involvement. Come along with me, dear readers.

***

Two weekends ago, Frisbee and I went to one of his friend's house for a Mario Kart tournament. A completely Vanilla event hosted by a couple (Frisbee's friend and his girlfriend). The majority of the guest list consisting of other straight couples. I was also invited.

Also on the invite list was an incredibly handsome gentleman with sky-blue eyes and the type of hands that I couldn't stop thinking about. At any of the variations of sex parties I attend, he's the type of guy that I'd go up to and directly express interest in. In an otherwise Vanilla setting where I was otherwise presenting as Frisbee's girlfriend, I had absolutely no idea what route I was supposed to take. On the one hand I figured I should just play the monogamous girlfriend role and let this guy inhabit the realm of masturbatory fantasy. On the other hand...his hands.

What followed was an incredibly awkward conversation where I pulled him into the kitchen under the pretense of asking him a question. 

"I'd be interested in making out with your face if you're into it?" 

"I thought you were here with somebody?" 

"Yeah, but we're in an open relationship. I already told him I was going to do this. He's okay with it. Maybe we could just exchange numbers?"

Long story short, I did get those digits, but it didn't wind up going anywhere. 

***

The following weekend, Now-hubby and I attended a CPP together where there was a guest of honor who I had a pretty significant Internet crush on. Another situation where I wasn't entirely sure of the decorum. There were at least twenty other people at the party, and I didn't want to monopolize his time if there were others who wanted to interact with him (in any capacity). 

During the social hour of the party, I limited interaction to introducing myself and asking if I could give him a hug. After social time, the hosts read the rules of the party and we all got into smaller groups to practice talking about our safer-sex practices and saying "yes" and "no" to other people authentically. Then the metaphorical "the party's starting" gong was rung, and I went ahead with my usual routine of getting naked. I then walked up to the guest of honor and asked if I could give him a naked hug, and told him I had been nervous about monopolizing his time.

"I've been waiting ever since you walked in the door to get time with you. Monopolize me."

***

This past weekend, I traveled sans either significant other to a women's Ultimate tournament downstate. After our games on Saturday, the team crammed into one hotel room for some serious sleepover silliness.

During a game of Never Have I Ever, 50% of the room admitted to not being sure if they'd ever had an orgasm. 30% had never masturbated.

This was a college tournament. In this small, hotel room sample of 20-something women, 50% were unsure if they'd ever cum during sex. The average number of sexual partners was five. 30% of the women weren't sure on an individual level what type of stimulation they liked the best. That's 20 years of not being in tune with their own bodies, and at least five different sexual partners who didn't help clarify anything. Which, being the responsible adult in the room, led to me discussing the finer points of kegels, vibrators, and "good" porn.

Pillow Fights

This month brought back-to-back gang bangs; two consecutive Saturdays of me at my little sign-in table giving hugs to the new guys. Hugging is not a necessary party of the sign-in process, but I genuinely enjoy when we get new guys at the parties. It also seems to ease the nerves of the ones who show up with little to no experience in this world of "alternative" sex. Having a half-naked woman offer to hug them first thing in the door seems to help get newbies into the headspace that the parties are an environment where sex is going to be readily available as long as they're courteous and it's consensual.

One of the newbies this month is a completely adorable gentleman that I've since been chatting with on Fet and have tentative plans to get together with 1:1 at some point in the near future. Funnily enough, he's a sex party doppelgänger for a friend of mine's boyfriend. I did a double take when he first walked in, thinking things were about to get slightly awkward. (I have yet to experience running into somebody I know from "vanilla world" in my sexy escapades, so I don't have any frame for how I would handle it.)

While I do have my own standards about having sex with committed men, there is a line when it comes to men who are committed to friends and/or family members. I would never have sex with my friend's boyfriend (unless, of course, they both told me they had talked about it and it would be okay), but I will definitely have sex with this clever, adorable man with a fantastic dick who just happens to be a boyfriend look-alike. 

In the course of our messages, he asked how I first got involved in going to gang bangs. I'm the type of girl that's always prided herself on her dick taking abilities, and a gang bang seemed like a decent opportunity to test my performance on a grander scale. I had Now-hubby's stamp of approval, and the handful of guys I fucked in college seemed generally pleased, but I was curious how I'd fare with one evening's participation levels in the double digits.

I think the first time I realized I was an irredeemable slut was at a slumber party in the 4th grade (slightly before I went on a creeper spree taking pictures of my summer camp counselors). Somebody had that Proclaimers album where they're standing facing away from the camera. 

Typical pre-teen girl giggling ensues. omg butts hehehehehe

Later on, I would recognize this same feeling when looking at other girls went beyond, "hm she's kind of pretty" to, "hm I wonder what it would be like to kiss her." Awareness that my perception was just slightly off from those I was around. The Proclaimers album cover was funny, yeah. Butts are hilarious. Yet I also remember thinking, “this makes my stomach feel weird but like in a super good way I wonder what that’s about.”

The long con

Before we officially begin, I'd like to go on record and say - even though I talk a big game about how incredibly slutty I am and how I can catch a dick anytime I want, the truth is it's only because I was a huge nerd in high school and never got laid. I just spent all my time reading books about sex.

There.

I feel better having said that. 

I mean, I am incredibly slutty now, but it's not because I have some preternatural sexual abilities. 

Anyway, on with the entry proper.

I work with a fantastic group of coworkers. Especially as "that weird poly chick," it means a lot to have a place of employment where all the people (which makes it sound like a lot - I work closely with a team of 5 other people) don't treat me as a pariah. We have conversations that I wouldn't imagine having with anybody else. Probably conversations that a lot of other people would deem TMI, but we work in a field where we're up close with the more delicate aspects of being human on a regular basis, so our notion of what's acceptable lunch table conversation is a bit skewed. In my experience at the numerous other jobs I've had so far, I've been cautiously open and friendly with only one or two other people at each place. Where I am now it's 4 out of 5, which is pretty spectacular.

Which of course leaves 5, who is, by far, the most prototypical straight man I have ever met.

Just a few of his shining qualities: 

• "A woman only needs a vibrator if I'm not doing my job."
• Oh did you need help with that thing you're already doing but he will obviously do better because he has a penis.
• He knows all the things (let him explain falafel - "it's...in a pita? It definitely starts with a pita"). 
• Basically useless at work because he's too busy on Tindr and sending Snapchats to chicks that aren't even interested in him.

*sigh*

There's always one, right?

The one where I go see Deadpool

Neither of the boys were particularly interested in going, and I had the day off work today. So I spent my afternoon getting stoned and taking myself out to see Deadpool.

Overall, fucking hilarious. Credit sequence was great, there were a lot of 4th-wall breaks, and Ryan Renolds manages to be glib with rarely getting into that, "omg we get it you have a come-back for everything" type characters. It's anti-hero without being tragic.

Stan Lee has the best cameo I've seen yet.

(Apologies to the guy in front of me who missed the cameo because his girlfriend covered his eyes during the strip club scene. Shame on you, lady. There's relationship paranoia, and then there's the certain brand of crazy that type of behavior indicates.)

Being the type of person I am, though, I gotta roll my eyes at the romance story-line.

Possible spoilers ahead, readers.

So Deadpool before he becomes Deadpool (aka Wade Wilson) is hanging out at this bar for vigilante killers I guess. The bartender is hilarious. TJ Miller. Seriously. That guy did not get enough screen time. There's this short-haired hottie hanging around, and she's all, "hey why don't you come have sex with me PS it costs money because I'm a prostitute." They joke, they banter. (Yes, he makes the joke about "what are we gonna do with the rest of the long amount of time because I'm going to jizz in like 30 seconds into this.") Turns out he's fucking great in the sack, and they're now going to do an amusing montage of the two of them in all sorts of great positions and situations throughout the next calendar year. Until he pulls a Ring Pop out of his ass (no, seriously) on Christmas and is like, "this is the best vag I've slain in my whole life how's about we get married?"

So, yes. That's all hilarious. The sheer amount of sexual situations during the montage is pretty impressive.

There's just one problem. There's no indication during the montage that the girl is still a ho. Like, yeah, she's doing all sorts of crazy stuff...but it's just with Wade. 

I resent the implication that once a ho finds the right dick, she immediately stops craving all other dick.

This might just be me, too, but I get the impression Wade Wilson is the kind of guy that wouldn't really mind being in a type of open relationship.

Anyway. After Wade gets all radioactive and uglified, he's convinced his super hot GF will not want to be with him anymore. The typical, "this relationship is too perfect and something bad is happening so I'll leave to protect you" bullshit mixed with a healthy dose of, "nobody can be in love with somebody that isn't a perfect physical Adonis." 

He finally turns up at this strip club she's working at now because it's almost the end of the movie and the baddies are after GF. It would have been really nice to have some indication before this point that she was back to sex work. The way it's presented, this is another place holder until she can find the "one and only" dick again. 

After a decent baddie-fight scene, turns out GF is cool with the way he looks now. That banter from earlier even comes back to re-establish the relationship after she slaps him in the face a bunch. You know, because that's their thing. In case you hadn't figured that out. Because banter is all they do (well, and have really great, kinky sex). You know how ho's be. She spends so much time catching dick, it's hard to have any other hobbies. All she has time for otherwise is cultivating the skill of appreciating literally everything that guys like. (omg a hot chick that can reference Star Wars? Spooge.)