Shut it down

I have canceled all but one date and I didn’t cancel that one because I’m afraid of the social/political fall out. When he gets to our house and notices the tension thick enough to cut with a knife it may turn into a chat session anyway. He’s a perceptive fellow.

We’ll see.

Do you know what I am sick to fucking death of? People telling me I should “make Noah” go to therapy. I AM NOT HIS MOTHER. I DO NOT MAKE HIM DO THINGS.

If you are thinking about messaging me to tell me that you really think I should make Noah see a therapist I want you to examine your motives and ask why you think I have such power. If you feel so fucking strongly talk to him about it and not me.

As I understand it I am never to ask for outside dating again. The specifically stated preference is that if I have such urges again: cut and suppress them.

Well. I have my orders.

Also: for the love of shiny green apples don’t “jokingly” tell me how I’m about to hit you any time soon. It’s not a funny joke. It wasn’t a funny joke a long time ago and I’m so over it I could puke.

completely fucked

Noah just stomped out of the house at 5am to avoid screaming more at me. I don’t think I should believe him that this month is a good idea. I think that if I listen to him pushing me to do this it will be throwing gasoline on a bonfire.

I’m torn between wishing I had documented every fight and knowing it would have been stupid. Every time he’s slammed the wall next to my head. Every time I’ve asked him to stop using me as a masturbatory aid and he did it again days later. Every time he has told me, “Oh I’ll do ____” and it never happened.

He sure as shit is keeping score.

The thing is, I have no interest in divorce. My way out of this marriage is death. So I don’t keep score. Because that strikes me as a very good way to make sure I end up dead sooner.


If I’m going to get screamed at this many times over a behavior I should write it down. Noah has been consistently bringing up the fact that my words and my behavior have not matched up for months. I will say that I am going to do something then not do it. I will say I won’t do something then I do it.

He says I am being deceitful in the blog and in doing so I am creating a situation in which he cannot honestly ask anyone for help. He cannot talk to any of our mutual friends because of the fallout I will experience when he reveals how abusive I am.

I think that if he believes that, and given how many times it has been screamed at me in the past few months I believe he sincerely believes it…. he needs to get some god damn support.

I am an abusive nightmare who is taking what he has to offer in life and then spurning him. He is honestly giving all of himself and I hit a wall and I fucking stopped reciprocating.

If you want to know what I’m doing, maybe I can get access to his notes and copy them. God knows he isn’t going to fucking talk about anything. But he’s taking extensive notes about everything I’m doing wrong. Because his memory gets fuzzy otherwise and he wants to very specifically remember every detail.

It makes me think I should have started taking serious notes on my done me wrong list fucking years ago.

Instead I get to be the piece of shit who has done everything wrong.

What have I lied about? Oh I said I’d use gloves when someone fingered me and the next person who fingered me didn’t use them and I didn’t interrupt him. I said I would look only for folks who wanted group play and then the next person I talked to and have pushed to keep in my life is anti group play. I said that I wanted to cheat. Not that I was going to, but that I wanted to.

I am a piece of shit because the only thing that gets through my head, when Noah tries to explain how much I am hurting him, is for him to say, “Fine then I’m dating too.”

I take that as a punishment and step down. Not a lot less gets through to me.

On many occasions over the past six months I have said that I wouldn’t schedule with new people and then I did so.

I said I wasn’t hunting on okcupid while I was continuing to flirt and add people in other areas of conversing.

Noah says that something is happening then I say it isn’t then he gives examples and I proceed blithely to ignore him and minimize. Apparently this has been a severe constant long term problem over the last six months and he is fucking dying to tell me again about every single example.

He’d like to keep me up screaming about this for fucking days. But he won’t talk to anyone else and get support. That would be disloyal.

Now I asked for examples so I’m a bully for asking and saying that he’s screaming about it. One more way in which I’m a piece of shit.

Let’s keep going, shall we?

It is really hard for Noah that I deny my behavior. I’m not denying it. I’m a lying piece of shit.

He says this is exactly like me having a drinking problem. I’m a compulsive liar. “Me just seeing that this exists causes you to fly into a rage repeatedly.”

On Wednesday and Thursday I was still abusing him. I do not track this honestly in his mind. On Wednesday I got angry while he was going down on me because I hit a point where I realized that I was doing this Slut Month in a way that was only catering to him and what he wants. I should not have gotten angry about that.

I can’t type as fast as he is rattling this off.

I fly into rages when he confronts me with my behavior. He pointed out on Thursday that all the group play is with people I want to play with and I got pissy. I was fucking nasty as I said it really sucks that I want to play with people who want to get me off.

I’ve spent ten years not writing down every time I was told “Oh I’ll get better at foreplay” only to be fucked dry like a god damn fleshlight two days later.

Maybe I should be keeping better notes about the ways in which what I am told and what I get don’t god damn match up.

And he can’t tell anyone what I’m doing. Because if he does then someone might get mad at me and then they might shame me. So he can’t ask for support. Because I am so fucking abusive that our friends would rain down fire telling him to get away from me if they knew the truth.

Well I’m not being as specific as his lists because I can’t keep up with his speed of listing it off and I’m sorry for that.

I attack him (often on unrelated topics) when he questions me on wanting new dick. I mislead people in the blog. I am not nearly specific enough in an ongoing way about what a piece of shit I am. I should be giving more specific examples.

Noah feels that if he answers me honestly it is a bad idea because I am not sincere in my questioning so he can’t be sincere with me. If I ask Noah about things then it is about placating him or about beating myself up–like this morning. So even though he’s been bitter for weeks that I am not being honest enough in the blog this morning I am a problem again because I am asking him for examples of my shittiness in order to write this blog post. I seriously can’t do shit right. I am not taking his rebukes as instantaneous spurs to change into the behavior he wants and that’s a big problem.

I’m not falling into line. And he’s going to tell me that he will let me do this month and… after what I got yesterday I can’t fucking wait for the rest of the month.

I am hurting Noah again and again and again. Because I’m being a selfish bitch who cares about my sexual satisfaction instead of caring about how my behavior affects Noah.

I don’t think I’ll go into how the swing party went. Yeah, we had sex with other people. After being yelled at the whole way there about how I’m ruining Noah’s life because I don’t pay all of my attention to solely him I didn’t really have a lot of fun playing.

Yay for being a nasty disgusting abusive monster.

And he won’t tell anyone but me. Usually fairly loudly in the middle of the night. It’s totally appropriate that I keep getting screamed at though because he’s only yelling at me again because I did something again. Again and again and again. Because I’m a piece of shit gaslighter.

I say I’ll stop adding people. Then I notice that another interesting person is nearby and ooh shiny there goes my notice.

So I’m a fucking liar.

But I should really do this Slut Month. Because totally. He thinks it’s a super good idea. Because this way he will sustain maximum damage in a set period of time.

That’s how he phrases it. So I will inflict maximum damage on him.

This isn’t the first time in our marriage Noah has extensively (accurately) accused me of being abusive. I fucking wish he would talk to someone other than me about it. But he won’t. Because disloyalty. So I’m a monstrous piece of shit who has isolated him and made it so he can’t have friends because he can’t talk to them honestly about his life unless it is perfect and unfortunately I’m an abusive monster.

For the life of me I don’t understand why he wants to be married to me.

I could write for thousands of words about what a piece of shit I am but my arms are going to give out. I’m sorry my confession is less than every particular. Maybe I’ll talk him into sharing his notes so that I don’t have to bother to retype it. There are extensive notes, after all.

And then I will be such a duplicitous cunt rag that I won’t even post a link to twitter. So clearly that is one more way that I am misleading people and being a piece of shit.

Slut Month Night 1

That. That’s what I like about sex. The giggling. The orgasms. The blushing and the wanton fucking. The slithering and sliding and rubbing that melds one sex act into another. Who are you having sex with now? Everyone. One at a time in sequence then they offer to trade. So civilized.

“Would you like a turn?”

I turned cherry tomato red.

It was lovely and fun.

I can tell you how many condoms were used. I can tell you how many times men orgasmed. I can’t tell you how often I got off. (No one thought to keep track.)

It was glorious having a cock in my cunt and a cock in my hand such that I got to feel the throbbing enjoyment that the person who wasn’t fucking me felt every time I got off.

As they told me over and over how lovely I am.

Yes. Like that.

Licking, sucking, biting, just a little bit of scratching and pinching. (Very little pinching. Phew.)

Yesterday was intensely, overwhelmingly good. Every appointment all day was a rollicking success. A sleep study is ordered. I have intermediate steps for trying to help sleep. My back doesn’t hurt after the delicious acupuncture. The groino said, “We will not let you labor nine days such that you end up hemorrhaging like that.” She is completely confident in my ability to carry another child… with more management. I’m feeling like submitting to medical authority this time. Not submitting almost killed me.

The fittings at Dark Garden were wonderful. Our outfits are coming along quickly and beautifully. I decided I won’t bother wearing the gorgeous corset dress under the other outfit on the cruise. No good reason to wear something in which I cannot sit down. That will wait for fetish events.

I have wanted a corset dress for 15 years. It is more beautiful than I could have hoped. And I look ridiculously hot. The corset part is done. The other layers aren’t yet, but they will be in the next few weeks.

The wonderful Bonus Mama made sure we knew to leave the kids for a solid 48 hours instead of creeping closer to 36 because we feel guilty about forcing so many kids on them.

Glorious support.

Today is also busy and lovely. Martial arts, hangout hours, maybe a birthday party, back home for massages, then a swinger party.

I’m having sex. So. So. So much sex. Glorious sex. I feel flooded with oxytocin and I love it.

Group sex is glorious sex. Thank you Noah. Thank you Deity. You are both so generous to me. I appreciate it. I’m happy and grateful that this will happen again in the future.

I feel like I woke up Happy Slut Land and I only get to visit here for a month. It will be a glorious month. Then I’ll go home.

That’ll be ok. Home is pretty god damn fantastic. And then baby. Baby. Baby. Baby.

Yeah. I think I can work this out of my system.

Let it begin.

Today I see a general doctor (talk about eating problems and sleep problems), an acupuncturist (holy shit my back hurts), a high risk ob/gyn, then we drop the kids off in Oakland and go into the city to try on our fancy clothes at Dark Garden. When that is over we come home for a group date.

I leave my house at 8am. I get home around 6. The date is due to start at 7.

I got lots of sleep last night. I was in bed for eleven hours and I think I got almost eight hours of sleep. It has been a long time since I slept that much in a night. I guess my body was serious about wanting me to prepare for all this tramping I’m going to do.

I’m going to do so much. I’ve agreed to put this urge back in a box for years after this month. Because it hurts Noah. That seems fair. It is nice of him to suggest this month. Very nice of him.

I’m feeling weird about calling it Mardi Gras because that has a meaning and I feel like I’m appropriating.

I feel kind of guilty in advance. I’m going to push this month. I really am. I need to put this back in a drawer after the month? Ok. Then I’m going to be seriously slutty. This has to tide me over I don’t even know how long.

I was thinking that I would stick to the people Noah feels safe with. I would stick to mostly group play. That was what I was thinking. But I’ll resent the shit out of that long term. No. If I’m going to do this I need to do it.

Luckily I’m the kind of slut who can pull this kind of thing together.

I think I’m going to go to a swinger party alone. The number of folks in that crowd who have already hinted they’d like to play is high. Given that Noah asked that I only play with him at the first swinger party we are going to this month… I think I’ll go to a second alone.

Because I’m that kind of girl. I don’t know of that many sex parties these days. I’ve kinda been restrained for a few years here.

I am nervous and excited. Time to get dressed and do chores before breakfast and heading out for the day.

Noah is looking at me while I type. We are making eye contact. This is one of his favorite things. He likes that I keep typing while looking at him because my hands have a journey of their own to be on.

I like that Noah likes me so much. Yeah, I’ll come home at the end of the month and that’ll be ok. We’ll figure out how to make this work.

I love you so much.

Do you know why I repeat my schedule so much in writing? Because otherwise I have the bad habit of forgetting appointments and not showing up. I do this so I don’t fuck up. It helps a lot.

Babysitter arrives in minutes.

Noah explained in great detail this morning what he is giving up for this. He… was very specific and precise as he made his list.

Yes. That is all true.

He was very specific and precise as he pointed out the lying I have been doing and the denying that I’m lying as I’m still lying.

Yes, that is true too.

Off to couples therapy.


A lot of the reasons I’ve been such a selfish asshole lately are because of resentments. Things I do or put up with or don’t get and I resent it. I feel there could be another way, but I get what Noah is ok with me having and tough shit.

I don’t think I have a bad deal. I really don’t. But I’m still a resentful person. Not all the time. Usually I can squash it.

But sometimes it overwhelms me.

What would feel like an actual rebellion? What would feel like it was making up for the resentment? I think that’s kinda what I’ve been trying to do and it is failing.

It’s failing for so many reasons in so many ways. I’m still such a resentful piece of shit. I’m… falling more into line but I feel this simmering cauldron in my chest. Will this long term be abated by group play?

Do I still want to be married?


Do I still want to be married to Noah?


But I also hunger for feeling like I am something other than his.

Recently I was talking with someone who is completely opposed to being (name) & (name). Even if this person dates or has sex… they don’t do relationships and they never want other people to know about the interactions. It all has to stay secret.

That’s not me.

I’ve probably had a maximum of five years of my life where I didn’t have someone in the “person I’m crushing/loving on” position since I was five years old. So about thirty years of that now.

I’m never just me. I don’t exist that way. I’m always Krissy & _________.


As a result I’m pretty damn good at conflict resolution which is amazing given how pro-conflict I am. Anyway. I can find relationships. Keeping them is harder.

Dealing with long term resentment is hard. I resent the motherfucking shit out of the years of not getting off. I know it was mostly about me and my hormones and whatever, but I was gritting my teeth through pain so you could fuck me. For years.

I feel so much resentment. I feel owed and angry and I don’t know what.

And that is a terrible attitude to have. How is that going to get me anywhere? But I fucking feel that way. I feel so fucking mad. I don’t know what I expect him to do about it.

I want to scream and break every glass object in my house. I want to scream and scream and scream and scream that I am tired of my sex life not being about me.

Which will cause Noah to turn and say, “Hey I’ve been trying harder lately. See we’ve been keeping track on the white board and now that I have that hanging over my head you’ve had a bunch of good days so what are you complaining about?”

I know.

I feel so angry.

That was the price of my safety.

That was the price of help.

That was the price of not being ignored.

I got good god damn return on all the putting out I did. I don’t know a more attentive husband. But I’m having trouble bearing it.

I think I should schedule some pushing-my-luck dates. I really should. Only doing sanctioned stuff is going to piss me all the way off. Ok, I’m only going to do sanctioned stuff. But I’m going to do some stuff that I can only do this month that will be off the table going forward.

I’m so frustrated with trying to be good and still failing so much.

Noah is giving me a way to blow off steam. If I don’t use it and I stay mad at him… that’s shitty too.

Fuss and whine

I’m feeling… like I already used up Noah’s tolerance and I don’t get more. This coming month I’ll play a lot but almost entirely under Noah’s watchful eye. I’m feeling pissy and whiny about it but I know I earned it.

Noah says I don’t think he has an inner life and I think the problem is actually worse than that. I know he has one. I’ve been restricted by it for years. I’m pissy about it. Which really sucks of me because I am far more controlling than him.

Noah’s upset that he feels he needs to watch what I’m saying to someone. But I apparently can’t trust that boundaries are in place six years after setting them.


I have never continued to slip with a given person after years of reminding. I slip with other people in other ways… yes.


I’m not in a position to be holier than thou. But Jesus Fucking Christ if I turn around and observe the boundaries Noah is setting, sorta, for a while, then tell the person “Oh I think it’s been long enough.”

I’m not the only asshole in this relationship. I’m not ready to take all the blame for fucking up lately.

I’m not actually going to get much of a Mardi Gras “month”. I’m sticking to stuff that is well within Noah’s comfort and I’m not pushing boundaries. I’ve done enough of that for a while. I’m not off leash. I’m pretty firmly on leash in what I’m doing and I’m feeling cranky about that because the attitude is that I’m getting to do whatever I want.

No. I get to do what you are comfortable with. That’s not just because of Noah. Other people have their own boundaries too.

But I’m feeling pissy.

Everyone is going in their “safe for Noah” box and I’m just fucking cranky about it.

Which sucks of me. I’m being outrageously, disgustingly selfish here.

I know.

What an ungrateful bitch. I have quite a few dates planned. I’m bitching that they all exist in the acceptable zone.

Grow up, Krissy.

I feel so tired of being good.

Yes, sweet submissive, I’ll be taking a lot of frustration out on you. I’m sure you’ll love it.

I want to go to a party alone, do drugs, and fuck whoever walks by.

I used to go to sex parties where there were pitch black rooms. When you walk in you are basically consenting for people to attempt to initiate sex and it is up to you to go as far as you want. I always brought condoms in with me.

I want to crawl into someone’s head. During sex with strangers I like to ask personal questions about their childhoods, religion, friends, hobbies…

I don’t like boundaries.

I want to be pushed and have to say no. I want to say yes. I want to try and find out, “Whoa not for me. But thanks!”

And I really don’t see it happening. Not for a whole laundry list of reasons. Valid, good reasons that are pissing me off anyway.

I’m so fucking tired of being good. That is what it all comes down to. I don’t want to be good.

Honestly it is kinda like slapping my daughter. I did it one time. I didn’t do it hard. I did it when I felt completely out of modeling good.

That road trip was too long.

I didn’t hurt her or damage her. But I fucked up. I wasn’t good. It’s been a lot easier to be good since then. I don’t think I need to do that dance over and over with her. I think I will break in other areas. I think I found that limit within myself. Hitting her makes me feel like a steaming pile of dog shit. I don’t need that feeling again.

But sex with other people. It’s like pizza. Even when it’s not that good… it’s good. So this is not the same thing as slapping her. This is so much more potentially toxic to my whole life.

I think with my cunt.

I know there is an element of wanting to bury this in wanting a baby. But only a very small piece. Mostly I just want a tiny head nestled to my breast again so bad I ache. Attachment Parenting is giving me the mandatory reason to bond and learn how to work through conflict. I have different things to learn from each stage.

My Eldest Child is starting to pull away. Barely. She’s reaching both hands back to hold mine as she walks away so I’m kinda being dragged with her. But it is starting.

My day needs me.

Try to be brief

Hands hurt wicked bad. Want. To. Type.

Made painting progress, a little bit at least. Need to do more. So much more. Ow.

Tired. Whole body hurts. Hurts like spiking up to 7 hurts. It sucks.

I should water the yard.

I’m struggling with wanting more pot than I want to be doing. I’m trying to titrate down because I can’t bring it on the cruise. I’m crossing international borders: no drugs. I’d like to be sober for a week or more before I go so that I’m not doing all of the adjusting on the plane/cruise. My current usage rate may have me running out a solid two weeks before the trip. Whine.

If I take a solid month off of pot… that might help with tolerance. But I’m going to be kinda psycho. Wheeeee. I anticipate more of a weight drop. I wonder how low I will get this time. I’m at 155. Normally that’s a weight where I look hollowed out and skinny and my pants fall off. This time my hips are spread wide and I have clear extra fat.

I feel very weird about my body. I truly do not want to be a thin person and I’m heading that way.

I was 145 lbs at age 14. I saw the upper 140’s briefly in my early 20’s when I was very sick.

I have liked being fat.

I was 165 lbs by age 16. I’ve been much happier there.

But 185 lbs is my favorite. I’m barely fat but I count. I like how I look.


I’m having feelings about this Mardi Gras month and the fact that it is actually being quite limited by Noah’s boundaries. I… don’t have a way on option to actually go be a shithead this month even though that was kinda the point. I’m kinda heading back towards “being good”. We are going to do a lot of group play.

I’m really looking forward to kicking the shit out of my submissive. That’s going to be a rollicking good time. He is very generously offering to let me take my frustration out on him. I should say yes.

I have a whole shiny box of scalpels. I may not be able to have everything I want in life. What I get to have is pretty fucking mind blowing. He wants me to carve my name into him. Surely I can find a way to make a buzz from that last a while. I mean oh my god.

My life is unreal. I need to revel in gratitude instead of being a pissy bitch.

Noah is initiating a lot more hypnosis. Which is a big deal after this many years of asking. I think it helps with my sleep trouble. I think it will help with pregnancy and labor. I begged. He didn’t want to practice with me last time. He took no initiation at all during labor and just… kinda went limp. It sucked. He promised to help. Then… he got scared and quiet. It was shitty.

He’s… setting the stage long before pregnancy even gets started this time. That’s a big deal.

We are talking intently about the M/s stuff. That’s been on the back burner for ten fucking years. It is hard to keep waiting. But I don’t want my kids growing up with a subservient mother. Why do I want this relationship dynamic so bad? I just do. I want to belong to. I want to have to follow orders. I do. Not just anyone’s orders.

Just Noah’s.

Even when I resent the shit out of them.

But as a mom I don’t think I should do as I’m told. I think I should stand up and say no to things that are wrong.

So it’s complicated.

My last yee haw for a while. I’m having ambivalent feelings. It isn’t what it was advertised as for a lot of reasons. But it has to be good enough. I have to get my attitude in line. This is what I get for filling my bucket for a long time.

We are going to keep negotiating and I am going to fall in line. Because that’s the deal. I’ve been a very disobedient pet for a while here. But I need to get back on leash.

That’s the deal.

That’s a good step

I am feeling self recriminating. So I had self hating thoughts about how I could go validate that I’m a piece of shit. (There are after all websites that spend a lot of time talking about how shitty I am. I stopped checking a long time ago to see how the conversation is ongoing. I just know that it… probably is.)

But I laughed to myself. No. I’m not going to look. They are entitled to their opinions. Just like I’m entitled to sit here in my garage and shake my head and call them motherfuckers. It’s ok.

I am at a magical place when it comes to the intersection of privilege. It’s really fucking hard for someone to hurt me. So it doesn’t matter if they hate me. They can’t take away anything I care about. If I had their positive regard I would probably dislike myself.

I’d rather know that I’m doing the absolute best I can given the hand I’ve been dealt in this life. It has been quite a god damn adventure. I have seen a lot of things and been a lot of places. And I don’t plan to stop having adventures any year soon. Well… 2017 we are staying home. Even though it means I won’t be in the direct path of the solar eclipse.

I’m tired.

I adventured. I adventured far and wide and nearby. I adventured with my kids and I adventured on my own sexually.

Ok. I can stay home again.

Things will be different this time. Even though my shrink believes that it is just how life works that people must be alone or at a job… bite me. We often have differences of opinion and I can cope with that. A therapist doesn’t exist to tell you what to think. They exist to help you figure out what you think. Sometimes you do that by disagreeing with advice.

I am a highly resourced individual. Don’t underestimate me.

For one thing I have a charming next door neighbor who is house bound. Ha. Our kids play frequently.

I won’t be alone this time. I am connected to my neighborhood now and I wasn’t during my previous pregnancies. I met people with talking kids.

I needed chaperones.

I needed them to define my role with people. I know that is chicken shit and I should just exude these boundaries on my own but I don’t.

God I love home schooling. It is a way to hide myself in plain sight in the world. In relationship to my kids I know how to keep myself safe. Because their safety is my primary goal. I will walk away from escalations. I will defuse when I want to engage. I will back off and retreat. I… don’t really do that for myself.

I will god damn keep my body safe until they are adults. I owe them that.

Which is complicated. This need to see myself in relationship to other people at all times in order manifest things in my behavior… that’s really hard. That involves trying to consciously change my reactions and behaviors at full speed.

I worry about the amount of suppression in my life. It means my uhh more instinctive reactions pop out every so often.

I assume this works this way for everyone. This is the development of the Superego. (I know Freud is a quack but I like the frame of his theory enough that I continue to kind of use his words.)

My problem is that I’m not willing to be conservative. I don’t stay well within the boundaries in the obviously acceptable areas. I need to find out how fucking far the boundaries go. I have to know.

What will happen if I  _____________?

I have to know.

It is 7am. Today I should call contractors, paint my kitchen, talk to my neighbor, and go to martial arts.

No more typing.

Planning for coping.

If I am going to stick to boundaries better than I have been then I need a variety of plans in place for how to handle various problems.

Do you know how I handled my overwhelming anxiety during both previous pregnancies? I spent 8-12 hours a day researching. I spent an obscene amount of time bonding with other nervous parents on (Some of whom have gone on to hate-follow me for years. Cheers, motherfuckers.) I actually met the Bonus Mama and the oldest Bonus Kid through mothering. So it wasn’t all bad. The wonderful lady I stayed with in Duluth was from mothering. I lent my timeshare points to a mama from New Zealand because that was the only way they could come to Disneyland. I’m not sad about my time there… but my time on that forum is over.

Do you know what I can’t do to manage my feelings this time? Type all day. I’ve fucked up my arms. I need to work on healing damage and not causing any new damage so I can god damn hold my baby.

I’m going to have to schedule in person time with people. Luckily some folks have signed on to the Wonderland calendar and maybe I’ll see people at drop in hours. We’ll see. I think I should start asking for video-date-chats with friends and putting those on my calendar for a couple of times per week. It doesn’t have to be a given person signing on for lots of time. Luckily I know a fuck ton of people who love me.

Goodness I’m blessed.

Noah is talking about setting up a schedule with me. There’s a bunch of stuff we need to be more serious about doing. We need to get our exercise to a more regular and predictable level. We need to be stretching more. We really both do better when we meditate daily; it helps.

We need to get our sleep cycle more regular. Pregnancy is going to be rough if I’m this under slept. I’m talking to a doctor about a sleep study on Friday. I’m also seeing the high risk groino on Friday. Friday is a frightfully busy day. It goes as so: general doctor to ask about sleep study and introduce various complex issues (Fremont), acupuncture (Milpitas), groino (Fremont), drop kids off (Oakland), Dark Garden fitting for Noah (San Francisco), Dark Garden fitting for Krissy (San Francisco), date with a sweet sweet Deity (Fremont). Driving starts at 8am and ends around 6pm. The date starts at 7pm.

Woof. I didn’t really think about how intense that would all be. I… I am not smart in my scheduling. But! It’s all stuff that Needs Be Done.

Once I see the groino Noah is going to schedule surgery. Eeep. This feels so insane. Why are we having more kids? Because we want to so so so so so so bad.

As my (current) Youngest Child says, “We want another bundle of joy.” The kid beams when saying this. My children believe that they have been a source of joy and happiness in life. They perceive that having more people around like them will be a blessing.

I couldn’t agree more.

We’ll figure it out. Honestly there has been some interesting movement in conversation in our house over the past few days. I know y’all are only getting some high/low lights.

I feel… more settled and ready to step back into the traces. I have my lovely Mardi Gras coming up. I only have three, maybe four solo dates scheduled for the month. Otherwise we are having a pretty intense amount of group sex. This’ll be great. Then we go on the cruise. Then he comes home to surgery.


Ok. Yeah. I can step back into the traces then. I’m getting some exquisitely clear guidance on how I will have to tow the line going forward to earn the future privileges I want. Noah is consciously making choices about not being more aggressive about stepping out right now because he knows he would make mistakes and we don’t need to try and fix them right now. That’s… awfully generous of him.

I’m feeling magnanimous.

No… I’m feeling like I’ve fucked up a really lot lately and Noah has been quite patient as I’ve been a selfish shit head.

It is helping that Noah has said repeatedly that this is so hard because it is such a departure from normal. Normally I’m rock solid with my boundaries and that’s why the last few months have been so hard. I don’t do this to him much.

Oh. So it isn’t that I need to live up to a completely unattainable perfection. I need to… go back to holding boundaries more like usual instead of being so fucking muddy. But I needed things to change and I don’t know how to make things change without breaking things.

Our boundaries are not where they were six months ago. They have changed dramatically. There has been a lot of push and pull to get to where we are today. I would say that mostly… I’m to a place I’m thrilled about. I can kiss my friends again. We can have group sex. (No promises on during pregnancy.) We can do bdsm play with friends.

We have opened up a lot. But we are figuring out where our limits are on that. Outside solo dating freaks us both the fuck out. We have a loosely stated goal of re-discussing that issue around year twenty, but it’s not a good thing to bring up before then because we freak out. Group dates. Group dates sound awesome.

We aren’t polyamorous.

Also, I was doing some of that charming carping that I do so often and Noah listened and…. I think we have found a positive solution to one of our ongoing marital sexual disputes. For a solid decade now we have tracked our sex life. The big variable we haven’t ever kept much track of… me getting off. Even though I am incredibly orgasm focused. We can add a new data point to our records. That’ll uhh, maybe help both of us recognize when things are and aren’t going so hot there.

Kinda a simple solution, really. Plus if Noah is counting how many times he gets me off… he works harder. Bonus.

And dinner is on the table.


When I use the word veto it means a complete ban of a person. I think there is a big difference between asking for a break, or asking for stringent boundaries and… vetoing a person.

I have vetoed two people. I did so because the first person was specifically telling Noah, “Lie to Krissy” and… I don’t play like that. The second person was sending Noah emails telling him to drag me to the hospital for a D&C after my miscarriage “whether I liked it or not”. You don’t get to try and tell someone to manage me like that and touch my life. Fuck all the way off.

If you are someone who believes my consent about what happens to my body is negligible and I should be managed by people who know better… Fuck all the way off.

But it’s looking like I may be earning my first veto from Noah. Because *I* said shit I shouldn’t say. Not the person. Me.

It’s feeling different. It’s not the person’s fault. It’s not about their behavior. It’s about me and my shitty boundaries. I will accept it if it decided because that’s the deal. But I’ll feel bad for the rest of my life that it is my fault this happened and not theirs.

I’m on five week timer. If I can get my shit together, maybe no veto. Maybe. If I don’t get my fucking mouth under control… if I don’t exercise better boundaries period….

I hurt myself.

It has been kind of weird to like Lemonade so much and know that… I’m the problem in my relationship and I have no moral high ground upon which to stand. I’m the one hurting myself. I’m the one who should be sorry.


Why is it so much easier to have boundaries with some people than others? If I knew the answer to that I’d probably be able to get rich.

Noah speculates that part of the attraction is that I’m not being held to my normal boundaries. I’m sure that factors in. I have agreed to a lot of fucking boundaries and they are chafing. Are they chafing? I don’t even know. They are and they aren’t. I… I feel guilty because I know that when I step back on the pregnancy-nausea-roller coaster I’m not going to feel like my boundaries chafe in the same way. I feel like I want to go hide from this biological imperative to hunt for new partners.

I’ve always been allowed to love people. There were just boundaries around kissing, sex, and bdsm. Those boundaries happened because we are assholes to each other when it comes to watching boundaries when we have new partners. It isn’t just me. One of us will do a shitty thing and be taken to task only to find five minutes later that the one taking to task has also done the shitty thing. Like, right now.

We do this to each other.

Unless we are both actively involved in the conversation to keep beating the drum of our boundaries… the other kinda loses track of them.

So we closed down so we would stay married because neither of us feel good about this up and down.

Then I didn’t handle that permanently. I’m not good at keeping it in my pants. I’m a complicated person. Having sex with only Noah for the rest of my life is a fairly narrow slice of my sexuality. That’s not true for him. It is true that he has interests I don’t share. But not that many.

Noah is rightly defending his end of enmeshment right now. We need to have a whole lot more experiences together because we still suck at maintaining a model in our heads of what our partner would want in a given situation.

Why do I need such an extensive cast of people in my life? I really have a somewhat obscenely large cast of characters. Because everyone fulfills different needs. Everyone has different things to offer. Jenny and Sarah are not interchangeable. 

I know that Noah is the base layer of my life. Every other layer has to fit around him for the rest of my life. I didn’t just agree to be his wife. From day one the plan was to work towards a Master/slave dynamic. That… changes a lot of how I ought be negotiating. I know I’m in countdown days till I’m under contract. That’s going to change what I can go out and get in my life.

I almost sorta feel like I’m trying to stack the deck because over time I’m going to be restricted more. People who are grandfathered in will be important. New people won’t be possible anymore. Noah’s really rather out of patience with me.

My luck is a bruised and battered thing from how much I’ve pushed it lately.

I’m… having internal conflict around the fact that I’m resetting the clock on doing incest research full time by at least ten years. That means another whole decade of my life where what I am is a wife and mother.

Why in the fuck do I have such a diverse supportive cast? Because I need to have a lot more fucking people perceive me as something other than just a wife and mother. My shrink told me that other people get to have that by having a job.

Hey, the vast majority of the people I love I don’t fuck. I’m not making sex my job. But connecting with people kind of is.

I’m having this really strong internal struggle with the idea of appropriate vs inappropriate vs not inappropriate but not right for me.

What does inappropriate fucking mean anyway? It means “I don’t like it.” There is no such thing as a universal way of viewing anything. There is no such thing as a universal right way to be a human being.

Appropriate is about “it works for me”. Or about “it fits conditions”. Who sets the conditions? That’s a fucking long digression and my arms hurt.

I pick people because there is something I need to learn there. I always justify this in retrospect and can’t explain it while it is happening. I’m a shithead like that.

I think I could sleep again. I should try.

One of these days when I’m bored I should go back through this tag and clean up these entries. Sigh. Fingers tired of pressing buttons.

What’s next?

There are things I don’t write about.

And then my brain jumps to yet another topic I’m just… not going to write about.

You know what? My body hurts. I can say that. Pretty much all of me. I’m exhausted.

But! I have the most awesome support network I can imagine having. Do you know how it feels that when I am feeling shitty I can reach out to 28 god damn people and all of them have a few minutes to text with me?

The specific quote from the day that I kinda want to have printed on something where I can read it a lot is, “You are very vulnerable to accepting being wrong. Sometimes you’re just NOT WRONG.”

That was succinct. And this person has one of the stronger voices in my inside voice loop. I want to continue to be someone who is ok accepting that they are wrong. I want to continue to be someone who can apologize. I want to continue to be someone who knows that I do wrong things and I fuck up and I need to god damn say I’m sorry.

I like that about myself.

Do you know what else I like about myself? I like that I’m a control freak. Know why? Because it allows me to get so much done.

That’s a pretty core part of my identity. I get shit done. I do it by being a fucking control freak. It is true. And my kids have adapted to the Krissy-show with gusto. But I get that we move through life really fast. We are all intense motherfuckers in this house.

I really like that about us.

Noah and I had a long chat about the Quiet One and the fact that I’m not being a friend to the marriage. I’m not. Getting called on it makes sense. It’s appropriate.

I like giving permission. I don’t really like controlling people by negating behaviors I like controlling people by giving permission. Because I like the results so much more.

It is a conscious choice of ways to interact. I’m not embarrassed about this. I mean, is it “controlling” people to tell them that they really and truly should follow what they want to do instead of listening to the negating voices in the world? Is it influencing? Is it inspiring? Is it just fucking talking?

It depends on who is judging, don’t it?

I’m kinda glad I ended up with some extra days free this week. I get to go visit one of my former students who is dealing with cancer. I’m not going to be shy: please contribute money if you can. I’m not going to give you her life story because I don’t have permission. But this girl has had a ridiculously hard and stressful journey in life. If you can, please help her. She needs to live. Her life has just finally gotten to the point where it is not shitty. Now this. Please help if you can. If you can’t, please share the link with people who can help.

I think a lot about my place in the world. What it means to have an open heart. What will make me hard? What will make me turn mean?

I think that will have to be a choice I make. Because I could get mean. I really could. I could be violent.

But it wouldn’t get me what I want.

Do you know what will get me what I want? Admitting when I fuck up and apologizing. Using my words. Learning how to observe boundaries without being a disrespectful asshole. I will never do what I want to do in life if I double down on my right to stay the same.

That’s just not going to work.

I know I have to change. I know that I have to adapt.

Do you know how much freedom there is in that? I do not have to try and stay the same in a rapidly altering world. I have to try and figure out how to race with the current and pick up speed.

Yes. I play life on the easy level. It is true.

But I also pay forward what has been given to me.

I will keep opening my home. I learn things I need to know.

Helping people can’t ever be about what I get back from doing so. That can’t be the point. You help because you have extra. So much extra. And it is shameful to hoard it. I help in ways big and small, monetary and energetic, near and far.

I like that about me.

I tell my children that they are literally some of the luckiest people who have ever been alive. They in particular have access to more information, freedom, and privilege than like 99.99% of human beings who have ever been alive.

Now what do you want to do with that?

So far draw Minecraft pictures. But they are quite good.

I have a kitchen to finish painting. My heart overflows with joy and creative energy.

My neighbor is going to come over for a chat about her health. She has a bunch of questions she wants to ask me. I’m delighted we were finally able to schedule that.

/me throws out gravity net

Come to me…..


Dude, why am I being such an asshole to Noah? I keep saying shit I shouldn’t say. My shrink says she thinks that he has kept me safe long enough that I’m acting like a rebellious teenager. She might be… closer to accurate than I like.

I am very interested in what medication could do for my reading ability. I haven’t been able to read much in a year. My brain is just too distracted and all over the place. I can’t focus very well. I think I’ve read five new books? That were on intensely important-to-me topics. So I could hyperfocus because shit I need this.

But otherwise I can’t read right now. Quite frankly I think I need to go through and start doing more suicide/trauma reading. I’m flailing and not managing my impulsivity at all well.

I am not being long term selfish I am being short term stupid selfish.

That’s a problem. That creates wounds that don’t heal.

Shit. Shit. Motherfucking Shit.

Ok. Can’t undo what is done. Can only move forward. Apologize. Make a different mistake next time. Hopefully… a much smaller one. In an entirely different area of life. Maybe not make a mistake near that boundary for a few years.

This dance we do.

Given where we are starting from and where we want to get… the only comfort is we have already come so far.

Noah was sweet talking me yesterday. He told me he thinks I may actually be smarter than him I just don’t have as broad of an education as him. That made my elitist smug bastard heart melt. It uhhh made sense in context of the conversation. You don’t get to know the context.

It probably isn’t what you think. And that’s all I’m saying.

I could have come up with many dozens more people yesterday if I had wanted to. Because I am one of the luckiest people alive.

As long as I don’t ask for too much… I can get a few minutes of contact from a whole lot of people all in a burst if I have to.

Thank you.

I love you so much.

Noah does share well. He really fucking does. But I’m not respecting the important parts of not sharing. I’m treating him like an obstacle and that fucking sucks.

Stop being such an asshole, Krissy. He isn’t blocking you from getting what you want. He is what you want. I mean… I can come up with lots of things/people/situations I want too.

But Noah has limits. He shares me so much. He is so patient.

I like to push my luck until I see where I run into a brick wall head first. And that sucks. I always have. I find boundaries from the other side of them.

Noah’s patience should be legendary in my opinion… but he’s running out. It is… interesting to watch. I’m learning a lot.

I feel like I have been feeling around the boundaries. What are the breaking points. What does breaking mean.

What a fucking asshole.

Stop it. You know what being good here means. If you want to earn back trust do the work. For five years. And no bitching. That’s the deal.

My words come at a high cost sometimes.

Sometimes even gods have to atone. I think a limited sentence like five years is kinda generous.

Hunh. I sorta wonder if this is somehow what I was aiming for. Noah came down on me. Like a box of fucking hammers. I’m not saying he was abusive or mean. He wasn’t. He was clear and specific.

Yup. I done did that.


Biotech, you know you are skating on thin ice and you say what?

Can’t even say what were you thinking. Clearly there was no thinking going on.

Analyze your possible actions and make choices before you fucking act. I don’t care if it hurts to think that hard. Do it anyway.

Why does it hurt to think that hard? Because my lizard brain is a short sighted asshole. Over riding that takes a lot of push.

On or off is easier. Moderated on…. fucccccckkkkkkkk

I honestly feel like I hit the wall. But not in a bruised and battered way. In a calm, “Oh. Well ok then” way.

Noah my love, I don’t know why this is a good deal for you. I really don’t. I know you’ve told me hundreds of times. It still just… your math is off.

But the boundaries are uhhh becoming clearer by the day. I don’t want to make Noah small and wounded. That means I need to think before I act. I need to keep my mental model of him in the forefront of my mind. Before I say or do anything I have to think about how he would feel about it.

I have to be a friend to the marriage. I have to only say things that increase the likelihood of longevity. Which isn’t to say that I can’t bitch sometimes to friends. But I have to pick who and what I say with respect.

I feel like this should somehow be more intuitive. I think this is why it is just so much easier to pick on or off than moderated on. I don’t think it is that I am just stupid. I think this is hard.

Noah, I still think * is a good idea.

This marriage is going to be long. We need something to go your way sometimes. I’m uhm. Yeah. I’m getting mine. And do you remember how hard pregnancy was? Breaks are good.

Breaks from how obnoxious and high maintenance I am are good.

So I’m a mixed bag. There are things I like about me and things I need to do some serious work on. Sigh. But, I declare that progress towards the goal and continue on with the work.

I’m looking at my calendar up to the cruise. Holy shit.

Well. I do like to keep busy. I might, uhh want to start thinking about packing. Because if I plan well… I bet I could make some damn smart choices. But I’ll have to think. If I pack at the last minute I’ll bring too much.

I’ve done this dance a few times.


Gonna have to face it.

I’m addicted to love. I seriously am. If I have a dominant addiction in this life that drives me… it is to the need to feel that cycle of falling in love.

I can maintain it with many people. I am fully present with whoever is in the room even as I have a fully fledged monsoon of feelings for more people than I care to count who aren’t in the room.

My shrink says, “You are very polyamorous for all you say you aren’t. That “love” bit… you aren’t just open.”

I love my friends. I love hard with an intensity and devotion that lasts for years, decades if people let me. I rarely end a relationship and never without cause. The cause usually has to be pretty extreme. I mean, I fade out of social groups and lose contact because of that… but that’s not severing a relationship.

I do move on pretty easily. I’m restless and I don’t settle well. I am shocked I’ve stayed in one house for ten years.

Want to know how I find out people don’t read that carefully? I talk about them a lot and they miss most of it. Hilarious. Deity was all, “Wait… I was in the doghouse?” My therapist was worried about the intensity of my NRE with you, yes. She thought it was inappropriate given that she wants me to be a swinger. She has strong opinions about what is appropriate for my marriage and emotional connections outside the marriage are a problem in her mind.

Noah has varying opinions. Mostly what he’s saying is, “You’ve picked really good guys.” Yeah. I have. I have pretty good taste… much to my shock and amazement…

I think it is because of my early disloyalty. I tried so many people I know better how to go for nicer people. I’ve dated assholes. I’m good. No more.

I really like the people I have in my life. I like how they treat me.

I think this falling in love business is partially a thing because I used to go through these reuniting/falling in love/leaving cycles with my mom. I was always trying to get the spark back and failing. So I’d find someone else to fall in love with for a while to help me deal with the fact that she couldn’t really love me all the time.

I’m not blaming my behavior on my mom. I’m saying I think this pattern started early and it was initially related to my mom.

I’m trying to get a handle on the scope of the problem, not blame someone else. There are pieces of this I should probably work on and pieces of it that are absolutely integral to my core personality and I don’t want to change it. I like that I am a much more loving person than average.

Let’s be clear here: me bringing a friend from out of state to stay in my house for almost three weeks while we intensely bond and talk about deep intimate topics… that’s an emotional affair too.

I was talking to my shrink about the challenging parts of having longer term house guests and she said, “Oh have you learned your lesson now about inviting strangers into your home? You’ll never do this again, right?”

I said: “Oh no! I will totally do this again! I have learned so much! I feel so honored. I’m having so much fun. This is a wonderful experience.”

She blinked at me.

What? That’s not weird, right?

I am absolutely going to invite strangers into my home so we can bond again. Duh. It’s awesome.

I feel like such an asshole. I told Noah: ok fine. I won’t see the Quiet One because I’m not allowed to add another person who wants solo dates to the roster right now. So I’m going to fill up Mardi Gras with the folks you don’t mind. Folks who don’t mind group play. Folks who are allowed to be a major focus of my sexual life going forward because Noah doesn’t find them threatening.

He did say that he might ask for a break from (insert name) after Mardi Gras for a time. That seems… understandable.

I told him I would like to ask for another Mardi Gras someday. He says wait till he sees how he feels when this is over. Then we’ll decide if it is five, ten, or more years away. Or never. We’ll see.

That seems fair.

My shrink says I ask way too much of Noah in asking him to tolerate my promiscuity and I need to work harder on making friends.

I said, “Time’s up. Talk to you later.”

I have more friends than anyone I know. I love you all. I’m grateful for you. The intensity I like… people don’t do that without fucking, mostly. Noah proposed that we could look around the asexual community for an intense, drama ridden emotional affair.

Err, that actually sounds fun.

I am going to have a good Mardi Gras.

My friendships go in boxes and I’m not the only one who gets to decide the categorization. I signed on to an enmeshed marriage. I have to consider Noah’s feelings. Even though sometimes I kind of want a vacation from that responsibility (see earlier cheating and bad faith negotiating).

Which isn’t fair and I know it sucks.

Noah likes to talk about how we picked the high intensity version of parenting and given how much we like our kids…. it is worth the outpouring of energy. We’ve made fantastic little people. And we really want to make more.

We picked the high intensity version of marriage, too. Given that I left on the road trip 13 months ago… it’s not a stretch to say I’ve been “on vacation” from my marriage for over a year now.

I need to change that. Noah has been more than fucking patient. He has been supportive and mostly of good cheer in his interactions with me. Because I need that from him.

He really needs some payback for that. I gave him nine really good years then he got a whole shitty year and counting. That sucks.

I’m kinda a shitty wife.


Noah is afraid I will do what I did with my Owner. Where I was there… then I stopped paying attention and I wasn’t. Reasonable fear. I kinda think I have more to tie me to this life. But those ties haven’t stopped me from being a selfish asshole in a lot of ways.

Noah and I were talking about the need to reinvent ourselves. When I need to express myself in a different way to the people around me because I have changed I usually need to find some kind of new relationship (or several) to help me through that metamorphosis. I’m not self driven, only I kinda am? I know how to hunt for the support I need.

I am very good at reinventing myself in front of someone at speed using only carefully selected stories from my life.

My life is complex. Long time readers who are friends tell me it is interesting watching how I tell the stories in different ways over time. I’m sure it is. I definitely drift in my interpretation of the “facts”. Who is to blame? What was I feeling? Oh my opinions drift. Which is part of why I record it. So if later there is a major rewriting in my head folks around me can say, “Whoa there.”

Useful to outsource your memory like this.

I think I am too impulsive/compulsive to be able to pull off life long monogamy. I think that journey is not for me. But how can I go on this journey and stop being such an asshole to Noah? And he’s an asshole right back. Let’s be clear. We suck at being polyamorous together. When we date we are so rude. It’s like we lose the ability to hold the mental model of what is ok for one another when we start reinventing ourselves for a new love.

But we don’t do it at sex parties. Cause we are there together to do our thing. And I think I do less of it on group dates? I know he does.

My shrink gave me the name of bars for picking up women for threesomes. Because that is less emotionally fraught than what I do in her opinion.

We are going out of town in a few hours. I’m not bringing my computer and I need to mostly stay off my phone. My hands god damn hurt. We are going to Santa Barbara and Monterey. Noah is going to have his first days at the home office (in Santa Barbara) and we are breaking up the journey home.

My life is blessed beyond all reasonable expectation and measure. I’m a lucky person.

Why am I so ungrateful? It isn’t about ungrateful. It is about insatiable. It is about no end of want and need.

am grateful.

But how many hours a day can I fucking perform grateful?


Right now there are a bunch of dates in my calendar with ?’s next to them because I offered dates to folks. When I get responses to my emails there will be another round of emails.

Fine. If I’m mostly going to have to calm the fuck down after Mardi Gras, let’s do this.

It’s like the good old days.

It is hilarious to me how I can carry this glee and anticipation and joy about what I will share right along side all the wicked grief for what I can’t have.

I’m a complicated woman.

On the drive up I listened to this song on repeat. On the way home I listened to this song.

I know I need to turn to Noah. I know I owe him that. But what do I owe me? I think I owe me learning how to be a good wife to the best husband I know. The degree of guilt and shame I will carry over letting him down cannot be overstated.

god damn owe Noah.

I need to fall in love with Noah over and over.

And I’ll still have my emotional affairs. But they can’t make Noah feel like he is dying.

I think what I have with Sarah is basically an emotional affair with occasional play. I think I have a platonic long-term partnership with the Bonus Parents. We are sharing a lot of life-work. Because support is awesome.

I mean… I could demean my relationship with Sarah and say we are “friends”. But I have a lot of fucking friends. I’ll tell you that this is special. We have worked very consciously to grow into the shape we need to be to be friends. It hasn’t been easy or natural a lot of the time and we’ve fucked up. But we keep trying because it’s a really god damn intense relationship.

And Noah isn’t real interested in asking me to change this. So yeah, I’ll keep having my emotional affairs. I’m not listing them all here. Just, can’t. That’s too complicated. But there are the really major characters. Sarah has been in my life for as long as Noah. We met at right around the same time. All because of this dude who liked to date the same girl as my Owner. Life is funny. (Not that I’m saying that this dude chased girls because my Owner liked them. But they had an uncanny pattern through multiple cities in different states.)

And to the best of my knowledge none of the connections there are very active any more with that man. I think everyone I am close to who knew him only knew him temporarily. Long enough to find me.

I met a lot of people in the last six months of my relationship with my Owner right as I turned 23. A surprising number of them are still in my life. Sarah. Noah. Daddy.

Random aside from couples therapy. I was talking about how hard of a time I have had with how vanilla the sex in our marriage has been. (It’s complicated.) The therapist nodded along. Then Noah mentioned Daddy/daughter play. The therapist kinda whipped his neck to look at me and said, “You do Daddy/daughter play and you think your sex isn’t kinky?” (Or some variation of that. I’m mis-phrasing slightly because I can’t remember.)  I did that duck my head thing and was all, “It’s all about perspective… for me it’s kinda barely hitting the scale.” His eyes went wide.

What? That’s not weird, right?

I’m an extreme mother fucker, ok?

Where’s the degradation? Where’s the crying? How can you even tell you are having sex?! I mean really.

A little Daddy/daughter play during sex doesn’t even feel kinky to me. Your Mileage May Vary.

I’ve kinda had an unusual life. A little bit.

No… I don’t get to have a permanent hall pass to stop and sleep with someone on the way home from therapy. Even if those hours are covered by babysitting while he’s working. Sigh.

Yeah… I know.


I could be a lot of things in life. I chafe at the boundaries and limitations of the life I chose. I don’t want to make a different choice… but I chafe anyway.

I’m a brat.

In retrospect, even the agony of arguing for the past few months… it was fun. I don’t want to do it again any time soon. But I think we learned a lot. We managed to change things in our marriage in ways I needed them to change. We started a lot of kinds of play and interacting I’ve been asking for over a long time period.

It’s complicated. I’m not sure I done wrong. Not completely. Maybe my asshole tendencies serve good purpose? At least this is what I try to tell myself.

Hey, we grow…

I really should try to sleep a little more before we get up to go on this drive. It’s a long drive. A 4.5-5 hour drive. And we want Noah to be to work by about 10. We are leaving at 4:30. And I mean leaving. I should add blankets and pillows to the car while the other grown ups are taking kid loads. *note to self

We should stop and get gas and ice on the way out of town. We don’t have much ice.

I’m not actually trying to justify my asshole behavior, for the record. I know I’m being awful. I’m being selfish in a short term way instead of my normal long term way. No one is perfect…

I needed things to change. When I need things to change often I start breaking shit. Noah is scared because it looks too much to him like our marriage is the next thing I need to break.

I really don’t think so. Especially not if we can have lovely periodic group dates with friends and go to sex parties and in five or ten years I can have another Mardi Gras (maybe–if this goes well).

I mean good grief. How much can a slutty person ask of their spouse? That’s damn generous.

It isn’t polyamory. But we never said we were. We have stayed pretty close to that. I lose my shit. It’s not ok for me to date and for me to require him not to date. So here we are.

Noah points out that he probably could deal with polyamory but it would mean ending the super enmeshed thing we have and him seriously putting that energy into other people.

Oh fuck no.

When Noah drops his mental model of me he starts making choices that hurt me a lot. Ditto. It’s complicated.

I can get another 45 min of sleep, surely…

Goodnight. I’ll talk to y’all in a few days.

post-therapy cranky version

My shrink told me that Noah and I need to get a couples therapist. I get the impression she feels this because she’s on Noah’s side and she’s my shrink and that’s complicated. She wants someone to argue for him.

She’s glad he’s putting up boundaries.

She said a bunch of things I want to write down but my hands are on fire.

But in other news Deity is out of the doghouse. “Oh he’s displayed such clear morals and values. He can stay.”

Her opinions continue to baffle me.

She had a lot of god damn opinions this week.

Trail of broken hearts

I don’t want to hurt people. That’s not why I sleep with people. I sleep with people because I want to increase the feeling of love in the world. Because I do fall in love with people I sleep with. I can love people and not live with them and not share their lives full time. I can do that.

Sometimes. When it isn’t hurting Noah. Right now me dating solo is hurting Noah.

So I’m failing at not hurting people.

I have to break a heart this week. I can break Noah’s or I can break the Quiet One’s heart. I don’t have a third option.

I rather feel like my heart is breaking too. I fell hard and fast and I’m really happy I didn’t sleep with him. I don’t usually feel like that. Usually I feel like I’d rather have a brief sexual relationship and move on. I think I would bond with him. I think leaving later would hurt way way way worse. I’m glad I caught this before Mardi Gras.

I will heal from this. But I think this might be a permanent hole in my heart. I think this is going to leave a scar.

But I can’t hurt Noah how I am. I just can’t. Not and stay married. Not and stay sane and alive.

I don’t have to like this choice. I just have to do it. Right now my stomach aches and my heart hurts.

Then I get to go spend years repairing the damage I created. Woo. I’m so excited.

I caused a lot of damage. In the end, I got it to the point where we will do more group play than we have in many years. That’s an acceptable compromise after how hard I pushed. I don’t think that would have been an acceptable end point if I had started negotiating for it from monogamy.

So I feel bad and I don’t.

On the upside Deity is no longer scary to Noah. Not compared to the Quiet One. Deity is up for group dates. That just went from scary to awesome. My submissive will feel less scary and intrusive. Daddy is just flat out comfy by comparison.

How come getting what you want feels so conflicting? I want these people. It doesn’t feel like a consolation prize.

But I’m going to have to grieve this possible relationship really hard for a few days. Nobody but Noah has ever been this interested in me.

Walking away hurts.

But I want these babies more. I want Noah more. So I pick this hurt. Even though I’m sorry.

Safer Spaces

I went to an open relationship discussion last week and the topic was on “Safer Spaces” and what that means to people. Ok, sure. That could have been interesting. I don’t know how much to say without breaking confidentiality. But I’m going to say a few things.

The small group discussion I was part of was interesting, I think mostly because I was the only full blooded white person so we talked about actual unsafe situations and how to cope. Noah says his subgroup… didn’t go well.

Noah is not exactly Mr. Social Justice Warrior or anything. He’s a rich white dude. But even he was cringing at the level of entitlement and cluelessness.

The proposal was made that safer spaces aren’t good spaces because not everyone is supposed to talk in every safer space. Sometimes het cis white men aren’t supposed to talk. Instead we should have “brave spaces” where everyone is allowed to talk and people just have to put their big kid panties on and deal.

I kind of went hot and said, “That’s a way to privilege the voices of people who already have the most power and ensure that underserved populations never feel safe.”

If I as a rich white person felt this was not a safe place… well…

I don’t want to go to a “brave space” where I’m going to have to listen to the usual opinions that make me very uncomfortable. I hear them all the time. Like, I don’t feel like I get away from those opinions much at all. I go to safer spaces to get away from the opinions that make me uncomfortable all day long.

I said that saying that all voices have to be equally heard at all times is like saying All Lives Matter. If you truly believe that all lives matter you will bloody well say Black Lives Matter because they are the ones in crisis.

I left feeling like I don’t ever need to go back. Which probably isn’t a fair evaluation of the group in general. But Noah and I left feeling like… yeah… we don’t need to spend more energy there.

Which is kind of a bummer. Talking about relationship stuff is tricky and hard. I’d like to have more spaces to do that. Not that space.

There are lots of times and spaces where I am supposed to be quiet. That’s ok. I make other people hella uncomfortable and sometimes they don’t want to deal with that.

I think that is just.

Why this marriage

Why is Noah worth so much? Why is Noah worth not dating other people? I need to remind myself of that right now.

Noah is my best friend. Noah is the best friend I have ever had. Noah pays attention to me at the expense of having almost anything else in his life because I need so much attention that he just doesn’t have a lot going spare after me.

It is partially my fault that Noah doesn’t have friends. I wear him the fuck out.

Why Noah? Because when sex with Noah is on it is the best of my life. When it isn’t ok I get very cranky and that’s maybe not fair. It isn’t always Noah’s fault. Sometimes he is being an inconsiderate bastard, yes, but as he points out it has improved a lot.

No he hasn’t gotten to perfect yet. But he’s come a long way.

He really has improved: in play, in sex, in taking care of me, in being supportive… in every area. He has not slacked off. Not on anything. Not really. He’s not perfect. He fucks up. He hurts me. But it isn’t because he doesn’t care and it isn’t because he isn’t trying.

It’s because he came into this kind of a broken mess too.

Noah was broken long before I met him. Noah came into this marriage believing he wasn’t really worthy of love too. Noah spent most of his life feeling unloved and not accepted too. Only he did it in just a few places with just a few people so he calcified differently.

Noah didn’t grow up with the eternal promise of hope in new people. I did. New people mean different things to me than to him. Noah grew up in a small xenophobic town where he was hated and reviled. He was different all his life and they knew it and hated him for it.

But I love him for it. And that has allowed him to blossom.

Noah is a much bigger (I don’t mean in size) person than he was when I met him. He’s focused and determined. He is centered and more happy.

I am too. Noah gave me a center. He gave me a home and safety and being known. No one had ever wanted to know me before Noah.

I mean, I had friends and lovers. Don’t get me wrong. People “knew” me. But when I wrote my first book and old friends read it… most of them were shocked. Which means they had known me for a very long time without knowing much about me. I’m hard to know.

Why am I stepping out? It’s complicated. Part of it has to do with trying to accommodate a role I can’t actually sustain without outside assistance. I can’t be just “on” all the time sexually in my day to day life. Cleaning my house and playing with my kids just doesn’t do that for me.

Hunting does.

But hunting is hurting Noah so very much. He’s scared. Hunting is all about enjoying NRE. (New Relationship Energy)  For all that I may burn with the energy of the sun… I can’t actually shine on many people very well.

Maybe I’m more like my mother than I’d hope. Only I can manage to take care of more than one child at a time. I’m sure I’m not being fair to my mother.

I’m not really being fair to anyone lately.

Why this marriage?

Because I think that if I manage to learn how to get my needs met and be a genuinely good partner to Noah I will be a better person than I can manage any other way. I think Noah offers me more impetus for changing than anyone else. I think that Noah is the only person who is going to spend the rest of my life gazing at me in adoration while saying, “You are awesome. Now get better.”

If you can’t look back on yourself eighteen months ago and say, “Wow I really sucked. You aren’t trying hard enough.”

That. The fact that it has been true. It has stayed true through ten years of marriage. If we look back on any given eighteen month period… we see dramatic improvement.

Do you know how amazing that is to me, Noah? That we both just… keep doing it. Because we stand near one another and ruthlessly dissect one another up one side and down the other. You are awesome. Now get better.

It’s a fuck ton of pressure. This shit is intense.

And we do it for and with each other. Pretty much every step of the way.

Why this marriage? Because being Krissy Gibbs has been the absolute happiest I have been. This identity, this relationship is what gave me wings. R doesn’t want me to feel like I owe Noah anything and I get that. I totally support her having that opinion.

I owe Noah a lot. And he owes me a lot. And we like it that way.

When you are constantly trying to get better, you need to have support in changing. Support in changing is usually not comfortable. It usually fucking sucks.

I don’t know how to motivate someone to change gently. If you have tips, I’ll listen. I’m kinda like an anvil dropping on your head. Alright biotech. This is how it needs to be.

I’m that subtle.

Time to go again.

Just come home

I woke up at about 2:30 in the morning. Noah woke up a few minutes after me. We’ve been up talking since. So four hours of talking this morning. I told y’all we’d get up to at least 200 hours of negotiating on this. At the rate of 2-8 hours/day… we are getting there.

I can see what Noah means when he says I’m killing my marriage. I don’t think it is working quite how he thinks, but I think it is happening. I have watched Noah cry more in the past few months than I think he has cried in the whole rest of his life put together.

It isn’t just me who is hurting. I am hurting Noah.

I have a list of done me wrongs. I have things that have been happening for years that hurt me very much.

I need support. It isn’t fair that I need more than Noah can provide or that my friends can easily provide.

It sounds like my choices are get the support I want and deal with Noah dating and having NRE and he gets to go be all lovey dovey with someone else while I’m pregnant, sick, and miserable…

Or I choose to not get enough support. Those are my choices.

There isn’t really an option C.

Given that part of what Noah is saying when he asks me to get pregnant again is, “Maybe we can be better to each other this time” because I have acres of bitterness over the amount of support I got during the first four pregnancies….

Choosing to shove him towards other people is going to hurt me. I’m going to end up spending my entire pregnancy cut up. Because people saying they will babysit me during Noah’s dates…

That’s not going to work. Because the idea that I would turn to someone else when I am grieving like that is so laughable it’s not worth bringing up. I will tell you to get the fuck out of my house so I can deal with my feelings. No you can’t fucking hug me are you fucking crazy?

I don’t think that I am ever going to feel safe enough depending on someone else if what I need is cutting. No one else is there enough. You can’t be. You will let me down and then I will be screwed so I’m better off not depending on you.

I started this because yes, I felt like I was going to explode. Noah says I said I felt like I was going to die. I believe I said it. I don’t know that I meant soon. I did/do feel like I’m going to explode and do things I won’t like.

My life is very carefully constrained. Yes Noah, I know yours is too. I don’t think you are starting off from a place where you are as prone to go make bad decision after bad decision after bad decision like I do. My life is differently constrained.

When I feel like I’m going to explode, what does it mean? It means I think I’m going to cheat because I can’t be good anymore. It means I can’t be good anymore and I’d rather lose control and go fuck people then lose control and be a raging bitch at home.

I’m scared of how much pain I can bear. Because my tolerances go up and down and when my tolerance is up I sign on for a lot of pain. When my tolerance goes down I’m trapped.

We tolerate group play without feeling like we need to pull away and go off by ourselves to die. We enjoy group play. It doesn’t feel existentially terrifying in the same way.

I think that even though I want to quite a bit, I shouldn’t go sleep with the Quiet One tomorrow. It would be our first time. It would be bonding. It would increase the chance that I would hurt him really badly along with hurting Noah really badly. Yeah, I’m afraid that needs to be a no.


Because if Noah goes off and does the NRE thing…

I am not going to bear that well. I’m just not. Let’s be realistic here. And if that happens when I’m pregnant and already disordered and fragile?

Let’s think about how well that has the potential to go and think about how poorly that has the potential to go.

How fucking well am I going to handle my only safety in the entire world going off to love on someone else while I’m pregnant?

Will I or the baby live another nine months? Will I live through that long enough to dump a third kid on him before offing myself so he can raise the baby with his new partner?

I honestly can’t say. Which makes it a stupid position to put myself into.

Why do we want this baby so much? We keep talking about it. Because we do. Because we look at the two kids we have and we both feel like that is the pinnacle good experience of our lives. These are the best things we’ve ever done or made or been near. We could have more of that? Please. Yes. Please.

What does that mean about my sex life? Oh it’s complicated.

Am I going to explode still? I don’t know. Pregnancy will change the hormone balance again. To what? Fuck if I know.

What I know is I can’t go through a lot more mornings where Noah sobs on my chest and tells me that his god is telling him that he isn’t good enough and it is killing him.

I like being Noah’s religion. If you are going to be a god you need to take it seriously and behave honorably and I am not doing so.

I don’t think that lifelong monogamy is possible for me. Which doesn’t mean I’m allowed to date.

I’m not polyamorous. I’m slutty. I have a partner who can bear a certain amount of that and no more. I can’t have a serious boyfriend. That’s just a limit for my life. It’s not to say that I can’t have friends I play with.

But Noah can’t bear how much attention I’m paying to the Quiet One. It hurts him and I have to stop. I can’t treat this like a retaliation for my list of done-me-wrongs.

If I’m doing something because I have to that is different from doing things to get even.

Given how eloquently Noah has expressed the pain this is causing him…….

It hurts him as much as it hurts me when he is dating. Sometimes I get the impression that the black hole inside of him isn’t a lot smaller than the one inside of me.

I need to not destroy Noah.

I think I need to have some variety of sex in my life but I don’t need to destroy Noah in the process. Not when he has such liberal boundaries around group play.

Having group sex doesn’t cause either of us to feel like we are dying. Either one of us going off to date solo makes the other feel like we aren’t needed any more and we should make ourselves small until we don’t exist any more.

For me that involves a lot of cutting. I don’t think his coping will be so flamboyant but it won’t be better.

I want to stay married to my best friend. I don’t want to give up pieces of him because I feel like they belong to other people now. I will though if he starts another relationship and goes off and does things with them that I like. That won’t be for me any more no matter how much I like it.

There is no fair here. Nothing like fair exists. But how much unfair can I shove on him in the name of balancing my own unfair?