Lubricity

Fuck livejournal, fuck fuck fuck fuck.  It just ate my enormous post.  All I wanted to record was that L hugely kissed me on the cheek on the 3rd of our three hugs goodbye tonight - totally a slippery slope to letting him kiss me on the mouth, to (my current total) lust, to somehow being back together again, to still not ever trusting a single word that comes out of his mouth, because I have a complete, confirmed, proven blindspot for when he's lying.  My gut believes everything.  It's seamless.  But if everything feels right, nothing can be trusted.
Perhaps I'll rewrite the post some other day.  This drama is far from over, alas.
(Pithy conclusion of the other post: L can't become my sextoy until I have a new shiny I actually care about.  For that, I need to stop loving him.)
(Also, delighting in how much he looked like David Cameron, the UK prime minister, in his cleanshavenness and suit today.  I would be hard pressed to find a less sexy celebrity likeness.  Cameron can kill any mood I'm in any day. Post-breakup, this is a useful thing to notice again. And his cologne tonight was hideous - too much, too blech.)

It looks like the adventure with the bicycle mechanic is due to repeat, and much to my surprise, I'm much more fluttery about it (and him) than I ever expected.  We met again today, partially for the same fascinating, caffeinated, rambling conversations of always; partially so I could force the discussion of where we stand.  And apparently where we stand is more furious making out, less structured discussion.  The discussion of music took place with our legs stacked loosely on each other; the discussion of us, interspersed with kissing.  I hope the people inside the cafe didn't mind us blocking their window, didn't mind that his stroking and groping involved shifting both my tank top and prissy little cardigan, didn't care that neither of us seemed particularly inclined to let go.

He brushed my bangs out of my face for me, and kissed the spot where they had been.   No one's ever done that to me before.

I think my reaction to this man is a mixture of quite serious liking (he's been an excellent and important friend in the months I've known him), coupled with even more serious lust....and it's the lust that throws me.  He's not really my type (stereotypically).  I wouldn't check him out on the street.  The first time he kissed me was approximately a month ago, and it flummoxed me completely - I figured it was an accident, an excess of enthusiasm after a very excellent day out.  When did I notice that we had completely combustible chemistry?  Only in the last month, somehow.  He used to just give good hugs, and occasionally invade my personal space in ways that made me go, 'Huh.  Is that a game we're going to play?  Because if so, I'm not going to back down - what's your point?'
Our evening in the shop left me entirely persuaded that whatever we go on to do, we'll enjoy it - this man has a distinctive personal signature to his touch, fast, experienced hands, and isn't especially gentle.  It's such an incredible turn on, as is how much he wants me.  The way he's touched me so me far (stripped me so far, eaten me out, finger fucked me, sucked and licked and nibbled and scraped and groped) leaves me achingly eager for time alone with him.  There's good social, pragmatic reasons not to alter our friendship, but damned if I care when we're alone together.

Maybe actually getting laid will get this out of my system; if so, I'd be disappointed.

(There are other men in my life: my current friend with benefits (he's lovely braincandy, but not quite my thing in bed), an ex housemate I have an enormous - and probably reciprocated - crush on...but none of them inspire me quite like my biking friend.  /His/ bones I want to jump as soon, as thoroughly as possible....which might be tomorrow evening.  I'll let you know, dear readers.  I'm hoping hard.)

(As someone who can orgasm vaginally, but only under nearly impossible to replicate conditions.  And apparently not with with my current dude.)

http://www.asofterworld.com/index.php?id=525


(On a different note, my Valentine's day started with 12 hours of sleeping snuggled up to someone, and then lots of cuddly sex.  FTW.)

"The best I can do is keep busy. So I am. I will play rugby and jobhunt and find new and exciting hobbies, so that when I next see C. I will have a wealth of self to bring to us."

A friend, on dealing with her beloved moving to another country.  What an exquisite way of putting it, the wealth of self.  I understand it completely, and it leads into what  is perhaps the most interesting epiphany I've had in quite a while:

Being single is good for me right now.

This insight comes from an amazing weekend with the ex-boyfriend, one that was fun and oh-so-sexy, with lots of lovely food, open fires, zooming on motorcycles, playing with kittens, and almost nonstop physical contact.  It left me feeling cherished, and quite clear on the fact that whatever our relationship evolves into, I do love him, even if I'm not quite in love with him.  (I had half planned to launch a discussion about open relationships with him, but this weekend didn't seem the right time after all.)
What we also had, though, was a discussion around the song that I've named this blog for, 'Piazza, New York Catcher', by Belle and Sebastian.  It came up on one of his playlists, and I mentioned that I'd identified with the song, with the send of adventure, with the appeal of the idea of a beautiful relationship that can't last in real life, when not on the road.  Though this predates the ex by a few years, this might be part of what was so appealing about him: he lived in another country.  When I saw him, it was always on the road, always an adventure.  And while we lived well together (with extreme comfort), we were very dull by comparison, and the mundanities and daily disappointments of our lives eventually, I'd say, killed what spark we had.
We travel so well together, holiday so well together, adventure so well together.  And then for most of my adult life, I alone have been responsible for the organization of the rest of my life: my home, my work, my friends, my hobbies and expenditures.  Trying to build that with him in the town we initially lived from January-March was a disaster.  Continuing to build that now, on my own, for me, regardless of who I'm sleeping with when or why, is what I need to do now.
I've left this weekend with a great sense of self-confidence, with excitement about the world and all it holds, with eagerness to fix the obvious problems in my life.  (My current living space is a big one; I'm also concerned about my shrinking social circle, and the lack of celebratory people in it.  I want more people with richer lives, lives that thrill them, chaotic, improbable lives full of meaning.  People not fading away into grey late twenties, domestic early thirties.)
Off go I to write a spate of emails to possible housemates, I think, as well as possible friends.

(EDIT: This didn't actually happen: my mother called, I sorted and started laundry while on the phone with her, and now it's my bedtime.  Tomorrow morning, then.  I've also since received a very aloof email from the ex--I'm going to see about maintaining my great pleasure in this weekend despite our inevitably bizarre communication.  I don't want to taint my experience of this weekend, or the way it left me feeling, with anything really.  Bedtime!)

So, what can I say?

Since I last wrote, I've spent a fair bit of time with one of my soon-to-leave gentleman friends, and then this past week and weekend, a lot of time with the ex.
On the gentleman: hanging out with him had gotten really, really good.  Comfortable, smooth, physically much more knowledgeable than our first encounters. It made me think that I could easily date someone who's not my ex; that there are lovely, dateable people out there who I enjoy, and who have something quite different to offer me physically than the ex.  I had an extremely nice, extremely physical, extremely relaxed weekend.
And then he got very busy, and disappeared from my life for a week, coinciding with the ex having a week during which we planned a lot of things together.
It started Monday night, when I invited him over for a drink in response to him saying he wasn't doing well.  I meant it only as a drink, though he eventually slept over.   And eventually we had (rather explosive) sex, though fraught with uncertainty on my part.  I rejected him initially, it went down quite poorly (seemed to make him feel much worse, which wasn't what I wanted), I realized that I was actually a bit annoyed with my gentleman friend for not communicating in response to planning questions, and that I had a needy, hungry lovely boy in my bed, and so set about seducing him after all....all the while troubled by the thought that the ex only really looks me up when he's not doing well.  When he's on the up cycle of his moods, he does coke with strangers, ends up in discos, and just generally has a ball whereever he is, whatever he's up to. When he's feeling fragile and depressed, he seeks me out, or tells me, and then I seek him out, because I worry.  I'm also concerned that I'm one of the only people he seeks out.
So this past week saw Monday night being quite nice, and then an evening of pizza and going to the movies on Thursday....with a break between dinner and the movie in which I was propositioned to be eaten out.  But of course, ma cherie.  I had a splendid evening, overall.
Friendly, mostly non-sexual or romantic contact Friday.
We took the train on Saturday to go visit friends of his in another city.  The birthday party is fabulous, the level of contact between us all day is lovely...and then evening, too much alcohol.  We go for a walk.   We talk about us, frankly.  He eventually tells me that what he's been telling people about us is that he's always taken the possibility of us getting back together very very seriously...but just not yet.  Maybe after February 2010, when he gets back from two months in India.  Tells me implicitly that he still rather likes me, rather enjoys me; tells me explicitly that seeing used condoms in my trash hurt him rather a lot.
We go back and have glorious, sweaty, intense sex on the futon on the living room floor, where we're sleeping that night.  He has a particularly intense orgasm bracketed by endearments, and I don't really.  (I have a gentle, I'm a bit drunk and my body's weird orgasm, which seems unfair.)  We spend the rest of the night sleeping entwined, waking up only to kiss a neck, a shoulder, and to shift arms or legs closer, tucking them further under or against.
We spend the rest of the weekend as cuddled as if we were still dating--we fall right back into that dynamic.  And I think he enjoys it--enjoys having me back with him in this city, with his friends (who have all missed me, apparently.)  I enjoy being on the road with him--we've done this so many times, we're so good at it, and he's so comfortable to be around on a train, in a harbor, lunching on a boat in the sunshine.
We get back around 19.00, and I wander off to meet my gentleman friend for dinner, an existing plan, and one the ex knew might involve this friend staying over at my place.  (The gentleman friend is homeless, prior to his departure from the UK on Weds.)  The ex goes quiet by the end of the traintrip home, perhaps a bit tired or deflated, perhaps just hungover and worried about work on Monday.  In any case, friend decides not to come over tonight, much to my great satisfaction; I message the ex and make sure he does know this, and eventually come home to find a FB message that the ex is in a horrible funk after a fabulous weekend.  I leave a message and email to the effect that if there's anything I can do to help, to please let me know.
I worry strongly that my perceived unfaithfulness is part of the problem.  Everyone wants to be loved as intensely as they love, I imagine, or at least to not have the evidence that the object of your affections is seeing other people made explicit.  If he is, he's never mentioned them to me, though I've been assuming that's he's had at least a few random hookups since we broke up in May.
But on reciprocity in affection: up until about Monday, I was doing my very very best to be broken up with this boy completely.  I was working to sever any remaining emotional bonds; working to remove any privileged status he might have.  And I thought I was quite close--I went into meeting him Monday night planning that he wasn't going to stay over, that he was now firmly a friend, and certainly no sex.  Perversely, he seems to have arrived at an opposite point in whatever process he's going through--that we are and should be more than just friends, that he does want to spend time with me.
It's nice he actually told me.  Especially the notion that he's telling me that he hopes we get back together spring 2010 has me a bit irate-was he ever planning to tell me?  Should I have been informed of this?  Why should we get back together if the first time we both got really seriously stressed at the same time, we lost all spark and passion, and in his case, apparent motivation to be with me at all?  There's going to need to be a lot more conversation around this someday.
I've informed him he's basically undateable at the moment, which he agreed with, given the number of professional projects he's focused on, as well as personal growth stuff.  He acknowledged that perhaps short term flings would be of interest, but that was all.  That's intrinsically what I'm doing with my gentlemen friends with their moving dates to North America, but I don't think the ex knows that.  And perhaps I'm enjoying these gentlemen rather too much, which the ex does know about.
He's pointed out that I'm apparently much much more fun to be around now than I have been in many months--probably in a year or more, probably due to general stress levels, both of which I'll buy.  He is too, when his mood isn't distant and weird.

And now he's off somewhere in a funk after an emotionally intense weekend, and I worry that the fact that I have other men staying over with me casually is part of the problem for him.  I feel culpable, and concerned about the status and timeliness of my project to disengage from my convoluted relationship with him. 
Also interestingly enough, I would apparently rather have a buffer of a night on my own between nights with partners--having sex with two different people without showering in between (a plausible possibility for how today might go), actually makes me squeamish.  Ditto for sharing sheets on my bed between people.

Or so Feist sings.  I've never believed this, but the point stands that I'm not really sure what I'm doing right now.

A brief review of the past week:
-----------------
Sunday, 19 July: Ex bf stays over after an unexpectedly fun afternoon outing together.  Yummy sex.
Monday, 20 July: Ex bf stays over.  Tuesday morning is amazing.
Wednesday, 22 July: Ex bf stays over.
Thursday, 23 July: I stay at his.  Friday morning, he eats me out in the shower, and we discover that the edge of his bathtub is just the right height for me to sit on and find my head at waistheight for him.  We also try fucking against various walls/surfaces of the shower.  It is very very very nice, and I glow all morning.

Saturday, 25 July: I stay over at the house of a friend I've always found deeply attractive.  He's moving away in a few weeks, his housemates were away, we drank lovely wine and he cooked showy food, and I guess he finally found the courage to make a move.  I had basically decided it would never happen, or that despite apparent chemistry, he didn't find me as attractive as I did him.  Or perhaps that it just didn't make sense, given that he was moving, and we never had a particularly intimate relationship.  Verdict: amazing snuggler and kisser, patient and thoughtful in bed, but a bit slow, ponderous.  And disappointingly hung, though I imagine he's been made acutely aware of this at some point in his youth, and probably doesn't need any comments from me on condoms being too big.  But, given that I would want to see him again before he leaves anyway, I anticipate more snuggling and kissing to come, if we can make time.  I'm a bit unclear how much of his finally making a move was related to me, and how much to opportunity.  I'm assuming he's not secretly in love with me, as I am not with him.  This is an adult, enjoying each other thing, from my perspective.

Sunday, 26 July:  The one-weekend-stand from June stays over.  Again, a friend I'm attracted to, enjoy, etc, and again, this is probably the only weekend we'll ever see each other like this again.  We snuggled, and he tried to get into my pants at intervals throughout the night, and I shot him down because I was sleepy and worried (us seeing each other coincides with his girlfriend, also a friend of mine, having enormous depression/self esteem crashes, which is another reason I probably won't see him alone again.)  On Monday morning, we had sex on a 10 minute timer, so that I would still get to work on time.  I'm in awe of this boy's ability to make himself come exactly as the alarm goes off.  I think there's room for more speedsex in my life (sort of like speed chess, yes?)  And infinitely more room for sex with people who are good sports, and not put off by preposterous situations.  Monday morning was another day of serious unflappability.

Monday, 25 July: Ex bf stays over, lots of cuddles, almost no kissing, no sex.  Hasty rearranging of trash in trashcan on my part, to hide the condom wrapper from that morning.  Ex bf had a seriously angsty, unhappy weekend, which he did not discuss with me; he did comment that physical contact was helping loads, and possibly had helped him over it completely.
------------------------

I've never before had sex with three guys between Friday and Monday.  This is new to me.  I'm also bemused by my emotional response to this--sex with two friends I like, and the ex?  There's no grand romantic passion here, barring some inappropriately warm, fuzzy feelings about the ex.  And the ex is, unfortunately, the only one of these who actually got me to orgasm.  The others weren't even close.  And I know that my orgasm is very very tricky for the layman, but if I'm having this much sex, an orgasm somewhere along the line would be nice.  On the plus side, I think I left all three thoroughly satisfied, so my sexual karma should be quite good.

A worrisome thought I've had today: if I had to pick only one, it would still be the ex.  He leaves me buzzy like no other.  I am enormously setting myself up for anguish in a few weeks or months.  This is neither clever nor wise.

So plans for this week?  To juggle the friend who's moving away, and the ex, and my period, which will probably start tomorrow.  And maybe to think more clearly through what in hell I'm doing.  I haven't even told anyone about this (barring a housemate), simply because where do I start?  I had sex this weekend with three off-limits people I have no overwhelming feelings for?  And I didn't even come?

So, dear readers, though I don't think I mentioned it here, I let another boy kiss me on June 7th, literally hours before I ended up spending another night with my ex, during which really astonishing eating out/mutual masturbation/finger fucking took place.  And then my ex left on a motorcycle tour abroad, while the boy in question went back to his home (different city, same country.)
This new guy is a newish friend, dating someone I consider a good friend.  To the best of my knowledge, they have an open relationship, and I discussed the guy's attraction to me (obvious) with both of them.  He stated that he would be interested in pursuing something with me, she mentioned she'd be interested in 'pimping [him] out.'
Invited up to his city this past weekend, I went.  Not because I necessarily wanted anything in particular, but because he's cute, and sweet, and smart and funny and amuses me--and because of two other key things: he wouldn't hurt a fly, and he's not available in any real way, including emotionally.  Going to see him for a weekend was possibly the best gift to myself in a long time.  He managed to be open, honest, communicative, extremely comfortable and comforting....and massively turned on by me.  All of which, frankly, put me at ease in gorgeous ways, healing ways, even though I didn't expect beforehand that I would be comfortable with much physical activity.  Our earlier kiss had been weird for me, and the first person I'd kissed since December 2006 who wasn't the ex.
This weekend wasn't weird.  We kissed, we snuggled, we had sex, each step not being a foregone conclusion, but feeling right.  It was good to be with someone who wanted me exactly as I was; good to be with someone I like and respect a lot; good to be with someone who's as appreciative of physical contact as I am.  Good to wake up half a dozen times in the night to kiss, to stroke, to spoon and grope.  That was especially good--the ex and I haven't done that in a very long time, even if we did spend the whole night curled up together, the last night I spent with him before he left.
Other good things: the smile on this guy's face, like he couldn't believe his good luck and delight that I was standing there.  Walking around his city, holding hands and learning more about each other, from the prosaic to the life-shaping.  His body--so completely different in shape, weight, and size than my ex.  There's no possibility for mixing them up, and this was a good thing.  If anything, this guy was much much nicer armful than my ex, and this is good.   And it's fun to kiss someone roughly your own height, for a change.  Nice in bed, too.
And the way he came--the announcement he was coming; his agonized, redfaced expression; and then the actual coming, his body jerking not once or twice, but eight, nine, ten times, pouring out every possible milliliter of semen.  His orgasms were earthshattering, and I was deeply honored.  And his good humored greediness: "This is a bit cheeky, but I'd really really like it if you would give me a blowjob now."
That last request was from this morning, after he'd spent as long as possible avoiding getting out of bed, due to a hangover.  He asked, and lo and behold, he was rock hard under the blankets...really, how he'd spent a lot of the weekend, to my delight.  I refused this morning, but asked to watch him masturbate, which he didn't mind at all, especially not when helped along with tonsil-hockey kisses, my body pressed to his, and intertwined legs.  Again, so gorgeous.  His come is also the most neutral, almost tasteless come I've ever encountered.  I'm not sure why.
We spent a lot of time doing various social things this weekend, but when he'd encounter me in hallways, rediscover me at the other end of the sofa, realize my existence again--he'd stop me to hug me, stroke my foot, squeeze my shoulder, kiss my forehead.  Good on him for being him, good on him for wanting me, and I'm extremely grateful he could put me sufficiently at ease emotionally to let him have me, to let me enjoy him.  Because that, dear readers, was fun.  It was so fantastically low key, low pressure, and low intensity, while remaining fun, pure comfort.

We both concluded that while we enjoy each other, we would probably never date.  Apparently he spent the whole weekend missing his young lady (because I, alas, am not her), and he's proved to be far far more of a nerd than I'm comfortable with.  This is good to know, though.  Unfortunately, he and his s.o. didn't discuss this as thoroughly as I thought they had, and she's somewhat upset.  Not enough to break off our friendship, but enough that I don't think I'll be in this situation with him again any time soon.  And honestly, that's fine.  It might even be the best outcome, if she's ok eventually.

And predator that I am, his housemate is 100% the sort of person I date, dream of, lust after.  Very tall, bald and glasses, which gets me every time, though I couldn't begin to explain why.  Stylish, and much more socially adept than my friend.  We had a long bilingual conversation about cooking, growing your own food, political vegetarianism, European politics, being a foreigner, and live music.  Totally my type, and the type I hope to have as a long term partner someday.  I borrowed a book from him, so maybe I'll have to go back...

So I met up with the ex yesterday, and it was lovely.  We had a most excellent day of wandering around, exploring an important public institution, and then mochas at a Starbucks (the first time I've been in 2009, and probably much longer.)  We ended up coming back to my place, napping all snuggled up, and eventually had what we termed 'recreational sex.'  He made a point of asking if doing so would fuck with my head, and my answer was no, so long as he stayed in regular touch.
So, why?  Beyond having an extremely pleasant yesterday, where do I stand?
1.  I really enjoy being with him and getting the vibe off of him (100%) that he wants to be with me, is enjoying my company, is having fun. That was lost/absent in our months in the suburbs.  He even said he'd missed me the last weeks of not having much contact.
2.  I enjoy spending time with him in general--when he wants to be, he's absolutely charming company. When he doesn't, it's miserable to have to be around him.  Most of 2009 has skewed towards the misery end of the spectrum.
3.  He's been a rather important person in my life for, oh, 2.5 years now.  If this evolves back into being in a relationship in some months, I would be ok with that.  It would automatically become one that was appropriate to living locally, with the pressures we have here.  Going the other way, if this turns out to be a weaning off thing, then I think I'm ok with that--then I'll deliberately enjoy him as much as possible while I can, and then I can be content as I go my own way.
"I don't like you anymore", or "I don't enjoy spending time with you" hurt.  "I'm not sure I can see sharing my life with you" hurts much less, because our one attempt so far failed so spectacularly.  And my life is up in the air, and so is his.
What I don't want to be: a fuckbuddy.  An alternative to masturbation for him (or for me.)  He's too important emotionally for that.  My preference is that our future interactions skew towards non-sexual, with sex only when it seems like we would both really want and enjoy it.  I think I would be ok as friends with benefits--it's the friendship that matters to me.
He's gone for most of June, so we'll see what happens to us then.  I may find work elsewhere; he may meet the woman of his dreams during his travels.  This would sadden me--it would be very soon after the point when I was still the woman of his dreams.  It will be good for me to live here without him, though.
I think it's fair to say that I love him, but am not in love with him.  In the meantime, the sex yesterday was phenomenal, as was the snuggling beforehand.  Especially the snuggling--we haven't done that in so long, and it used to be one of my favorite things about the way we interacted.

Other note: I don't think there's anything about our relationship (hesitant, strange, and evolving) to suggest that we're exclusive.  We had sex with a condom.  And I will be meeting people off dating sites.

Something I really enjoyed yesterday? Seeing him interact with me.  He made his polite version of a kissyface at me pretty early in the day, snuggled against me on both the train and bus, gave me lots of hugs, grabbed my arm to walk arm in arm down the street, and beyond curling up together to nap, was so very careful and cautious at stroking my back, playing with my hair, at purring into my kneading of his shoulders and neck.  And eventually he kissed my cheek, headbutted me (a long running joke), rubbed noses with me, and eventually we kissed.  And kissed.  And kissed.  It's quite possibly been a year since we had this much fun kissing each other--he's an amazing kisser.  I knew that, theoretically, but I don't think we've kissed for pleasure since December.  But he was so careful to not offend--reaching over to effectively kiss me on the train (we both know that gesture), and then turning it into a nudge.  We'll see where this goes.

It's a strange thing to go psychotically jealous about, but basically the only person who I *know* the ex was interested in, and who seemed interested in him, has just offered to visit me here next weekend.  I am really really not ok with them hooking up.  I was half not planning to be here next weekend (it's my birthday, and a different visiting friend has made noises about planning a weekend away), but having her in town with me not around just really doesn't make me comfortable.  She's a very good friend of my brother's, and she knows the ex almost as well as she knows me (so not very much), making him almost equally fair game to email for crash space.

The ex and I briefly discussed not dating anyone else immediately, but if she were here for only a short time, and available....I don't know.  Maybe they would think it worth it.  If so, I don't think I'd be interested in talking to either of them for a very long time, if ever.  There was a different very good friend of my brother's who dated a couple of my ex boyfriends sequentially, and it freaked me the fuck out.  The only time she addressed it directly to me, she said something like "you seem to have a talent for serendipitous harmony", or something equally weird.  They were my exes by that point.  Yes, I have some taste.  But still...

I'm secretly hoping she'll reconsider her plans for, oh, a few months from now.  When I don't care as much, or care differently.  Or that she really genuinely wants to visit me, and not just the city.

But the truly intolerable part was that I had acquiesced in this godforsaken plan; there was ultimately no one to blame for my banishment to this remote-seeming outpost but myself.

Courtesy of an article in the NY Times today.  Ouch.