Noah liked to say that even when I couldn’t articulate the reason why I did something I usually had an intensely accurate perception of my needs. I am going to spend the rest of my life recycling Noah’s words to me and reinterpreting them in different circumstances. I will see his beautiful benevolent face in my mind as I try to forgive myself for not dying with him.

I was right that I needed to lock down sex. That has been the main thing that has improved my mood over the past 17 months. First the thrill of the hunt (which I get a lot out of) and then the gradual experience of someone growing past the box I wanted to put him in. When I met Gentleman it’s not unfair to say I was looking for a human dildo. I needed someone to get me off and it is less scary for me to approach cis men for casual sex.

Then the months went by and he kept doing more and offering more and he learned my bizarre maze of rules and regulations. He doesn’t have to be told things twice. When I say that something is out of bounds he may ask clarifying questions so he can be as respectful as possible but he never needs to be told twice.

I have a shitty memory. Noah was an asshole who took boundary assertions as dares. It’s fucking amazing to date someone who only needs to be told no once. No kidding, this feels shocking and confusing to me on a regular basis.

I stayed home from yoga and the munch today. I couldn’t. I am trying to be ok with my vast limitations. Gentleman came over afterwards and we had a really lovely date. He played with my daughter in the garden while I did some weeding. We picked up new wheels for my wheelbarrows. We had really lovely sex. I’m definitely less frantic than I was this morning. I am very much an addict when it comes to sex. Withdrawals aren’t pretty. It’s been an awkward last whole week and change so sex has been challenging to arrange. Today he laid me out like a pillow princess. He made me flood a small village. It was a good time.

Mostly though he listened to me talk/cry for a couple of hours. He held me while I cried. He gives me space to have feelings. I’m still so terribly unable to let loose like this with most of my friends here. I am scared to stress test the relationship like that. I need these friends very much. They are important to me. I won’t always be this hard and I need them to still be around later. I don’t have a massive pond of people to burn through here. I have to carefully cultivate the only options available.

I’m not sad about the friends I have made here. I have met some really neato people and I feel lucky to know them. I’m not saying that they are the bottom of the barrel or anything. I found some really great candidates of open minded folks who have a big Krissy shaped hole in their lives.

Gentleman is one of them. He unfolds like a flower in my life, slowly and carefully. I was pessimistic about our chances starting in week two. I kept expecting him to blow up at me or judge me or be nasty to me and so far… no sign of any of the above. Instead he shows up and listens to me cry about how overwhelmed I feel and he responds with, “What I’m getting from this is I need to not wait to be asked. I will come over and do things.”

And they say men don’t listen.

I feel like a lot of what is making this relationship go so well is that we aren’t super stress testing it. We haven’t jumped into the deep end with both feet. We have not had that many overnights yet. We both arrived at this relationship believing we didn’t want to live with a partner again. We both want freedom and companionship. It’s a great match. He appreciates that I’m not the only one in my house who has long term plans around him sticking around. We like him. We’d like to keep him. Not because he sweeps the floors (though that is fucking awesome) but mostly because he comes in and he asks all of us questions. He treats us as interesting people with stories to tell. He contributes and doesn’t expect us to be serfs while he lounges.

It took over a year for the first serious scene. I think that was so smart. We got to know each other first. We waited to see how we got along outside of the chemical storm of play. Also he is pretty dang good at topping. I am excited about the play we will do down the line. I feel like we are going to have fun discovering what we like together.

I needed to lock down sex. I did not expect to find someone so remarkably compatible and kind that quickly and easily on a swinger site. I did not expect to find someone who would slowly drift further into my life a little more with every month. Someday we will probably find the “just right” amount. I don’t think we have hit it yet. We are still building. That feels right. That feels appropriate. It feels safe and respectful. I feel like it continues to be the right path for me to set the hurdles high for entry into my life. People who want me have to put effort into it. I will not push myself on anyone. I am too horrified about the implications of that. People have to actively choose me. I am going to do my best to not let anyone accidentally opt into something that is outside their ability to cope with. I’m a lot.

I don’t think I’m too much. That’s a different thing. That’s a value judgment. I’m not making a value judgment in this moment. I’m simply acknowledging the shape and size of personality I have. It’s a lot. Like Alaska joined up with Russia a lot. That’s not necessarily a bad thing. Space isn’t all bad. Maintaining a bond with something that huge is work and people should be allowed to choose it knowingly or opt out.

I like that he wants to be my sustenance. He wants to be my food, not my candy.

That makes me feel really happy because I desperately need a lot of vegetables and not much candy. I can’t take the inflammation.

I feel so incredibly lucky that he is in my life. He is being incredibly kind and thoughtful about slowly building a very conscious relationship. I feel like everyone in my house is being given a chance to slowly get to know him and develop affection on their own time scale. This feels so healthy and positive.

I have been a rusher for most of my life. Now that feels terrifying in an existential way. I can’t survive a lot of extra turbulence right now. I am skating on very thin ice. All the fucking metaphors.

He makes my body feel better. He makes me feel like I have good things to look forward to. I have fun short, medium, and long term plans with him. I like that he lets me take care of him and I like that he takes care of me.

I feel sort of guilty that he will calm me down enough to go talk to Pretty Lady. That’s a squidgy thing. People who are already poly can appreciate that desire sparks desire. It can feel harder when you are first leaving monogamy. I am so worried about all of the things I want from my future.

I want them so much I feel like my hands are seething flames of need. I need violence so very much. I need to give it. I need to receive it. I need to be able to love and adore a woman as much as I want without getting in trouble for it. I need to be able to be selfish.

It really feels like asking for all this is too much. It’s not fair. Surely someone wouldn’t put up with me when this is the deal.

I’m pretty sure I’m going to see him again tomorrow, even if only for a little while. If we don’t see each other we will still talk.

I believe him. I am finding him to be a consistent person who cares a lot about maintaining things and keeping them in good trim. He does the relationship maintenance work. He’s been briefed to a degree that seems reasonably fair. I haven’t told him every detail because we will probably never have those conversations. It doesn’t feel necessary.

Do you know how weird that feels to me? In my in person life I may never again have a relationship where I talk in gritty details about my past. Most of what I needed to talk through… I talked to Noah. If Noah was here we would have talked about that stuff forever. He would have dug ever deeper into my earliest trauma. He wanted to be able to shove knives into my trauma with ever greater precision. When he hypnotised me and told me to react like I was 3 or 4 or 5 he wanted to know what stage of trauma I was physically experiencing again.

I don’t think I want anyone else to know those things. I think, maybe, it is time for me to stop being reharmed in the same few spots. I’m allowed to close the door on that trauma and leave it alone. Maybe, just maybe, the scab will heal if I stop picking at it.

Maybe it is ok for me to do the kind of bdsm that Vicki loved. Maybe I don’t have to keep contorting myself into being Noah’s victim.

Maybe it is ok for me to have higher standards. Maybe I don’t have to buy acceptance and love with my willingness to let someone hurt me as much as they want. Maybe I am good enough without that.

Maybe.

I really like him. He’s a great boyfriend.

(I want you to know that I flinched over each usage of “just” but they felt necessary.)