Stamina.

I'm starting to believe that Rowdy is poly not just because of personal convictions, emotional makeup, or sexual proclivities, but because getting him off is literally shift work.




EDIT: I feel sort of obligated to add, for people who aren't familiar with the whole poly thing, that it's not another word for "unlimited three-way sex." There's actually a lot of two-way sex, and even more three-way dinners and naps and walks and museum visits and other such wild sexy adventures. Rowdy may have sex with two chicks, dudebro, but he also visited Times Square and saw the Statue of Liberty and discussed the role of Jesuits in the Catholic Church with two chicks, dudebro. Do dudebros care about that sort of thing?

I think their lives would be a whole lot richer and more beautiful--and more likely to involve two chicks, for that matter--if they did.

Ultimate Pleasure.

Last night I masturbated to orgasm while receiving a backrub.

I have the best possible life.

"Walk of shame?" Hah. Walk of PRIDE.

What gross old people and Cosmopolian magazine have made complicated, happy slutty Davis Square sex can render simple again. There's something to be said for "we're all kinky poly geeky sex-positive feminists here" social circles. I'm with my people. Fucking them.

When a guy has TWO copies of "The Ethical Slut" next to his bed, well... I guess he likes to read them both and let other people read them too.

Sex is good. People are good. Life is good.

Less Grouchy Post.

-I think whenever I eat meat my vagina tastes like that meat afterward. I get beef vagina or bacon vagina. I've never had another person actually confirm this, but I firmly believe it.

-One good thing to come out of last night (other than a very fun dinner with friends, the kind where people are asking the hostess not to be seated near us): I can now cross "sexually strangulated with my own stethescope" off the ol' Bucket List.

Short iPod post: B/briar P/patch.

Sometimes I think I'd like to be forced to use Strict Capitalization Protocol, just because I hate it so much.

Ostention.

Every threesome that I've ever been involved in has, at some point, included a high-five and/or fist-bump over the third person's back.

I mean, how can you not?

Quote of the night.

"I'll blow you if you let me watch Shark Week."

(He did. I did. Problematic.)

Milestone.

Last night marked the first time a stranger actually tried the "you're a submissive, right, so I order you to suck my cock" gambit on me.

It didn't go so well for him.

Admittedly a dude probably couldn't get away with anything like this.

The best pick-up line I have ever used:

"I heard you have a huge cock. Can I see?"

Party got a little crazy.

Oh God, I feel like I just got a pelvic from Dr. Cactushands.

Saw.

I always think that being pregnant must be like the Saw movies.

"Hello Holly. I want to play a game. In your life you have sought larger and larger things to insert inside your body, but can you handle the truly large? Let's find out. Implanted inside your body there is a living organism. It will steadily grow larger inside you. You have nine months to find a way to get it out. Every option is painful, but you must choose. How much blood will you spill to stay alive?"

Pillow Talk.

"Your vagina is like a penis."
"Thank you. I was grown in a lab."



(This was in reference to function, not structure.)

Quick things while I work on a Cosmocking.

I can touch my nipples to each other! Amazing.

---

I got hypnotized once. The weird thing was that I never felt like my power to make decisions was gone; I felt like I was independently deciding to do everything the hypnotist said. You say I'm a chicken sir? Well, I just so happen to want to be a chicken, and this has nothing to do with you! Bawk.

So the experience did give me a certain perspective on how manipulation can work.

---

X-ray pin-up calendar. So now you've seen everything. These look real to me, which makes me worry a little bit about the radiation safety factor, and a little bit about the awkwardness that could result from a particularly dense stool.

---

I don't know what I want. Not in a "bleh, nothing makes me happy," way, but in a "things make me happy that I never expected to" way. With kinks, I've learned to never say never because I usually end up doing it later that week. And with people, I've learned never to be too sure about my "type" because someone totally different is about to say hi.

I also sometimes go through a cycle where I think that I'll just die without a guy and I'm doomed to be obsessed with him forever, and then about 24-72 hours later I'm completely cool with the whole situation. Not sour-grapes "he was an asshole anyway!" cool, just "well, I can take him or leave him and a lot is up to his own choices" cool.

---

I'm amazed how many grown adults play the "everything but intercourse" game as a way to signify that what they're doing with you--because it's casual, or kinky, or outside their primary relationship, or too soon in a relationship--isn't really sex. I respect the choice and I'll take what I can get, but... I really really really like intercourse, and I think that if I'm sucking your cock and you're wrist-deep in my vagina we're in no position to be saying "it doesn't count because we didn't have sex."

Maybe it's a pregnancy/disease thing? But personally I wouldn't do most of the "everything but" activities with someone I couldn't reasonably trust to tell the truth about their birth control or disease status.

Go big or go home.

Sign a first date is mediocre:
"So what do you do for a living? ...That's very interesting. What made you choose that career?"

Sign a first date is going either really well or really poorly:
"It's not my thing, but I think that as long as the animal is on top, bestiality porn is an ethical gray area."

By any other name.

I think I'd have a lot more interest in the swinging community if it wasn't called "swinging." Because I love the idea of fucking around a lot with other people's partners, but the name makes me worry that there will be guys with gold chains in their chest hair who want to call me a "groovy bird."

Various quick thoughts.

-I know it's supposed to be insulting to women and juvenile and stuff, but "The Shocker" seems like it would actually feel pretty good. It might be awkward for your hand though.

-True fact: speculums (specula?) come in "small" and "medium." I can think of at least two different reasons everyone wanted to avoid the "nurse, I'm going to need a large here" scenario.

-Before this weekend, I had never actually been "motorboated."

-I can take much bigger, um, insertions during phone sex than I can during masturbation. Even though nothing is physically different! It's just the power of the mind! It's things like this that make me believe magic is real.

-The ratio of "how much intercourse I've been having : how happy I feel about my sex life" has never been lower. Not that I'd mind some intercourse. It would make me so happy that the ratio would actually drop further.

-For a long time, I was pretty attached to the whole "Oh, I'm not really a submissive, I just roleplay it under very specific circumstances!" thing. Which is still technically true, but I'm starting to wonder if it wouldn't be fun to expand my circumstances. Like the whole "I'll get off on it, but I won't do your dishes!" thing... I think I might get off on dishes. Maybe.

-I've mostly stopped wearing underpants. The exception is scenarios where I'm likely to take my pants off. Then I wear them because I wouldn't want to be too forward or anything.

-You know, I do like confident and attractive and highly sexual men more than the alternatives. Is this... unfair?

-I fucked a Twilight chick once. I didn't find out about the Twilight thing until the next morning. I... I don't want to talk about it.

-Sometimes I grope myself. Not like masturbation. Just like, man, I have kind of a nice smooth round ass. I should get a feel of that. Oh yeah.

-I have to get blood drawn today. I'm terrified. I spend half my life sticking needles in other people with no remorse, and the other half being voluntarily subjected to pain and humiliation, but I don't wanna do this, wahhh.

[Edit: They did the draw and I barely felt it. So much for terror.]

-Mostly, I don't want to go to the doctor at all, even though I really need to, because in my experience there's a 50% chance that the answer to everything will be "You're fat. Probably all your problems stem from being fat. Have you tried eating less and exercising more?"

-Not that this is necessarily wrong in all cases, although I do think it's over-applied by some doctors. It's just an awkward situation all around when a medical condition also happens to be one of the gravest insults in our culture. "Ma'am, I believe your illness is exacerbated by your being more [lazy and greedy and sexless and disgusting] than is appropriate for your height."

-On the whole, though, I'm feeling better than usual about my body lately. Like, I feel like I actually have something to offer boys, rather than something that hopefully they'll forgive. I'm all "you want this" instead of "you want this?"

-Some of this is because of something I realized lately: I haven't been insulted much recently. (Well, some at work, but that never counts; if someone says that they're Zorblax of Mars or that they had "just two beers," I don't take the rest of their opinions to heart.) I feel like I used to get much more flak about my appearance, and now it's been a long time since anyone's described me as anything other than a reasonably cute young woman.

-This is partly because I've gotten better at choosing who I associate with--trying to get the approval of assholes is almost as addictive as it is pointless--and partly because I think I've changed how I present myself. I used to do a lot of either seeking approval ("do you think I'm fat?") or trying to hide myself ("if no one can see my body under this XXXL men's outfit, no one can hate it!"), and these days I tend to go out with the assumption that I'm a reasonably cute young woman, and should conduct myself accordingly. I think that assumption is contagious, even to assholes.

-Although clearly I'm not 100% cured of body-image issues, since I still write things like this.

-Wow, the "random thoughts" format kinda broke down there, didn't it?

-Is it weird that my emotional reaction to people with polyamorous and/or kinky households is much less "so hot" and much more "aww, warm fuzzies!"? Because it is. It appeals less to my "oh yeah lots of fucking" impulses and much more to my "big happy family!" ones.

-I get crushes on Internet sketch comedy members alarmingly often. Michael Swaim, Zach Weiner, Trevor Moore--SO HOT.

Jokes not very many people will get.

Do I make a lot of noise during sex? Baby, I yelp, wail, and T3.

What's the opposite of "sour grapes?" Greener grass, maybe.

It's 4 AM. I have to get up for work at 6 AM. (FML and all that. But I slept all day, so it's not as bad as it could be, this is really just a nap.) I am, at this moment, about the horniest I've been all year. I want it so bad and I would give it so good.

But tomorrow night! Tomorrow night I'm off all night and all of the next day. If I can secure a partner, I can hump like a crazy monkey tomorrow night.

The only question is, tomorrow night, will I still feel like it, or will I have a sudden compulsion to rearrange the spice rack and play Wii Fit and do some beading? Or will I try and find no one, or no one appealing?

The way I feel right now, when I'm can't just go out and have sex--man I want to hang on to this until I can.

Do you really want to know the answer to that?

If you ask me to lick your butt, and we have that sort of relationship and you're very very clean there, I will.

But if you then ask me how it tastes, I'm going to tell you.

Quick note on prettiness.

The best thing about feeling pretty isn't the ability to get laid. (Although that's a close and rather important second.) The best thing is the ability to not get laid, and still feel okay about yourself. To turn someone down without feeling that maybe they were the best you can get, or to get turned down without feeling like it's a crushing mortal insult--those are the really nice benefits of feeling pretty.