If only I were less slutty this would all be less complicated. I would say there are seven people who are being actively being impacted in an ongoing way with our nonmonogamy. We have talked to 3.2 of them. (I started a conversation and it didn’t get finished and it has a long way to go.) 2 are scheduled for next week. I have a date on the books with the person I started to talk to and didn’t get to finish. I need to book one more person over.

I definitely started off with some of the most easy going folks.

Let me say, as someone who is not easy going dealing with people who are is such a treat. Wow. You make life so pleasant. Thank you for that.

I am… not going to write today about how the chats went. Complicated. Layers of reasons. Suffice to say: yes I was blushing. I still can’t believe I’m saying some of this shit out loud. Doing it is easier than talking about it.

I really have no idea how my life will look at the end of the year.

I am feeling overwhelmed at having this many people who are like, “Ok on bad days call and ask for…”

But… you don’t understand. People find out about the bad days from my blog. Otherwise they are invisible. I don’t ask for help. I don’t communicate my needs in a non-passive-aggressive-just-for-documentation-sort-of-way.

Why?

Because being direct about my needs mostly hasn’t gone well so that’s a habit I just dropped. It’s complicated.

The more I need/want something the harder it is for me to say out loud that I want it.

I’m fucking obnoxious. But when I was a kid revealing a strong need or want was a way to get targeted for having it. I know I need to get over my childhood. I’m working on it. It comes in layers. I’m not done with this layer yet.

I remain grateful to the tips of my toes for Noah. The only person who never ever makes comments about how I write too much. He’s glad I give him so much of a window into my head. It overwhelms other people.

Hey, you are allowed to opt out any time you need to. You don’t need to give me an elaborate explanation. You don’t need to tell me, “You just write too much.”

No. I don’t. I write how much I need to. Maybe it is too much for you to handle reading given the constraints of your life and your reading speed, and that’s ok, but it doesn’t mean I write too much.

Ahem.

I’ve spent a lot of the last few days meditating on the idea of being the “biggest bitch” and what that means to people. Over my life time I have repeatedly been told that I am the biggest bitch. By men and women. I’m evaluated with other negative words too of course, but biggest bitch has come up more than once so I’m thinking on it.

I think about what it means to want things and want relationships and demand that your boundaries matter.

I think about what it means that some people desperately want me to get better at asking for things and being at least a little demanding and then there is everyone else who wants me to shut the fuck up.

Life is like that for everyone, I think.

I’m thinking a lot about what I want the shape of my life to look like. I’m thinking about the people I want in my life. I’m trying to figure out why I want the things I want. The reasons are changing as I went from having an amorphous “I waaaaaaaaaaant” to “I want _______.” Those are different.

Why do I want you? I could list reasons why, if you were curious. Why are you worth the trouble? I can tell you. I think about it. There are reasons or I wouldn’t bother. As has been pointed out with a chuckle more than once lately I do have a very full life.

If I’m trying really hard to pull you into it… it’s not out of pity. It’s not out of obligation or meh.

I want you.

You get to decide how you feel about your end of that. I don’t get to tell you how to feel. I want you to like you as much as I like you. Then maybe I can learn to like me as much as you like me.

Yesterday didn’t quite go according to plan. Things were just… not lined up. And when we went dancing it turns out we should have checked the calendar. I’m not a line dancing kinda girl. I have flashbacks of junior high PE and it isn’t real fun for Noah either. If he has a limited willingness to dance… I’m not fucking spending it on line dancing.

So instead we were in bed at nine. I got about six hours of sleep in my first sleep. That’s way better than four. We decided it was smarter to try and get more sleep before the camping trip rather than try to be fun last night. Smart choice.

(Deity–my hands were wet from washing dishes. Nothing more fun than that.)

From 3:30pm-5:45pm I was driving to and from Oakland. Oh that tried my patience. The trip home was actually wicked fast. Took 45 minutes in traffic. That’s quick. The trip up took an hour and a half. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

That was my nap time.

I’m looking forward to every part of today. My submissive and Cupid will be at this party. Noah and I have some fun talking to do. At least some of the folks Noah plays with will be here. So much talking to do.

No puking, Krissy. It’s just talk. Everyone here is friendly and amenable to negotiating. No one has a long list of “YOU MUST DO THIS OR I DON’T WANT TO KNOW YOU”. It’s ok.

It’s going to be ok.

Hell, it’s going to be fun.

Chill the motherfuck out.

I hate this anxious feeling. Like a whining dog cringing. I feel like I should crumble into a little ball. Who am I to ask for so much. Who am I to feel entitled to dictate terms like this.

I think… when it really all boils down… it comes down to… who am I to set boundaries? I accept boundaries. I run into them. I don’t set them.

How god damn audacious. Who do you think you are.

It’s not even a question. A statement of incredulity. Uppity bitch. Shut up.

My driveway has been buried under palates that need to go to the dump for a while. My neighbor came over and said, “So it’s time for me to start collecting the garbage again? Which things should I leave?” That’s a kind of… assumption that I can live with. Thank you. I’ve been trying to figure out how to get rid of them. Awesome. Maybe we can park on our driveway this year.

The evaluator came yesterday and took test cuts of the roof. It was constructed entirely incorrectly and can’t be insulated correctly, the roofing material couldn’t possibly be attached securely as is, and large swatches were done in ways that will fail super soon.

In other words: I wasn’t paranoid. I was right.

Arbitration is going to be fun. But I’m going to get a whole bunch of money back. I hope. I was told that anyone who ever goes up against me in court will end up sorry. How far should I test that fortune telling? It was funny how his eyes bugged out when he said that. “When it comes to money and going to court…. anyone who goes against you will be sorry. You will win and win and win.”

So my birth chart has something going for it.

There is a part of me that has always wanted to test that prediction more. Because I know that I will end up in court over incest research someday. I’d like to trust my magic feather a little more. Be a little more certain before I get there. Part of winning in court is knowing how.

Step one: develop good relationship with a lawyer.

Check.

Step two: line up experts with evidence to prove you are right.

Check.

Next!

Gosh. Pieces of this are almost fun. In a spiteful don’t fuck with me sorta way.

You fucked with my home.

Turns out having a friend visit for a weekend is going to sit heavy on me. I give Noah a lot of credit for my life. I wouldn’t be where I am without him.

She has different views. I mean, yeah… she knows I would be in a different place. She thinks I would have found a way to do the important bits without him.

I wish I had so much confidence in myself.

It’s nice having people come visit so they can be your externalized self-confidence. “You are under rating yourself and let me tell you how. In great detail.” Thank you my friend.

We also had a fantastic conversation about poverty, being white, white trash, and multi-cultural environments. That was just a weekend of talk-talk-talking.

Hey wanna come hang out at Krissy’s House of Cheerful Conversation?!

I feel bad about the degree to which my ability to be fun/nice with guests is tied to how medicated I am. If I sound pissy and frustrated… it probably isn’t you. It is probably that my entire body hurts and I can’t eat when I’m sober and that feels awful and I haven’t slept right in a long long time. I had a good 40 days there for a while. Then my Lorazepam was cut because she’s worried.

Sigh.

This is why I stay so stoned. But I feel embarrassed getting this stoned in front of people. I use a lot of pot to be as functional as I am around the house. So if I have to drive before I see people…

People think I’m pissy with them or offended or…

No. I’m just operating near my physical limits and the strain shows. I’m sorry. I try to be careful with my tone but it gets away from me.

I’ve been driving too much.

I am really excited about the changes that are going to happen around here starting June 1st. Noah has a new job. He will be working from home. I… don’t want to say much more about why this is super exciting until he does so more publicly.

But I’ve always wanted him to work from home. He finally is doing so. I’m really happy about this. He is too. He hates working in offices. Dealing with that many people all day drains him and makes him really unhappy.

Commute time can become exercise time.

Cooking will be easier.

I am so excited.

Once the mosaics are off the floor the garage is going to change again. I love my garage. I like how many different uses it has had over time. This incarnation is going to be fun too.

Part of the fun? The garage is way more sound proofed than our bedroom. I’m going to be putting a lock on the door. We might actually do a little play out here when the babysitter has the kids. Nothing loud or messy or complicated. But if I squeak a few times no one will hear. That’s not true in our bedroom. And all the furniture is additional sound dampening.

Excellent.

The other thing about dating and going to parties right now? I uhhh really want to stop spending money for a bit. We are going to need a serious cut back for a bit. Between the remodel and the cruise…. we are tapped out. The flow is maxed out right now. And then some. I’m going to have to dig out of a hole. It was a planned hole. But… it got bigger. And the road trip was more than I hoped it would be. Because I was in so much pain I was in hotels a lot more than I wanted to be.

So. Something has to give. I know how to lock down. I can do it. Uhm… any… day… now…

Sigh.

But there’s a lot of fluff in our budget right now and some of that has to get trimmed for a few months.

I HATE BEING A GROWN UP. FUCK RESPONSIBILITY.

“But volunteer!” No. I’m cranky and in pain. I work all the fucking time. When I go somewhere I don’t go to fucking work for them too.

Not right now.

I’ll figure something out.

I didn’t go out to eat for lunch yesterday even though I kinda wanted to.

I’m not sure I’m handling sibling stuff that well right now. (For another abrupt topic shift.) Eldest Child is… starting to want to separate more and that’s fair and reasonable but it is happening in shitty ways.

I kinda react like a viper. There is this one mom I know from homeschooling. She’s intense. She does not let her kids abandon one another at the park. Play together. Find a game that works for everyone. Compromise. There is no “But that’s for babies” in her house. PERIOD.

I don’t agree with every aspect of everything about parenting with her and that’s totally cool but I seriously pattern off of her with the sibling stuff. But I’m not sure I’m doing it right.

I know it is kinda part guilt tripping. I have mixed feelings about that.

I tell Eldest Child, “You know what, you can be mean to your sibling because it wins you points. That’s a choice you can make. You can be funny and spiteful. But you’ll pay for it. Have you ever heard me say a nice thing about my big sister? Do I see her? Would I help her if I passed her and she was stranded on the side of the road? No. Go ahead. Keep being nasty to your sibling.”

Eldest Child is ready to leave baby things behind and she’s out of patience. Youngest Child is not ready to give up on being a baby and is regressing in obnoxious ways all over the place. I want to jump up and down and scream, “I THREW MY FUCKING BACK OUT CARRYING BOTH OF YOU WHEN YOU WERE IN THIS GOD DAMN PHASE SO STOP BEING SO FUCKING IMPATIENT WITH YOUR SIBLING.”

Clearly this is triggering.

I can’t carry Youngest Child basically at all any more. I feel sad. I have destroyed my back carrying kids. I have to stop.

I don’t regret it. I am so happy I kept them close to my body as long as they wanted. Well, YC would still like it… So we have been sitting and snuggling a lot more.

I’m having really big feelings of inadequacy lately around managing some of these transitions. It has occurred to me to wonder how much hunting is tied to the fact that very little inside my house leaves me feeling adequate. I’m always a day late and a dollar short. I feel like I never get it done. I’m never good enough. Because it is so unrelenting. I have to pace myself. So I’m always always always robbing Peter to pay Paul.

So Noah and I are going to sit down and talk life priorities. And scheduling. And… we’ll have to just not deviate for a bit.

I need to stop driving so much. It creeped back in. We need a more set schedule for sleep. We have to let our bodies heal. We need exercise. I’m running out of time in which to set the patterns for my body that will let me get fast enough to potentially keep myself safe given the shit I want to do with my later life.

I need to stop fucking around. I’m in ok shape. But I have to work on speed. Shit.

And if Eldest Child is less certain about school than she thought… well… that means I need to get my shit together. She needs more structure from me next year. I can do that. Yes ma’am. You want more structure… but not timed reading tests and standardized tests and timed math tests and someone standing over you sighing as you work.

God I get it.

I can help you with that. No trouble. I can build a schedule for that. I love building schedules. It is going to be interesting having Noah and Eldest Child on more set work schedules while Youngest Child still really isn’t so I have to have a weird hybrid bounce in and out of structure/free time.

Oh this is going to be the best adventure yet. I’m so excited.

Oh Noah. This is what we’ve always wanted.

We will make this work. Period. This will be glorious. Occasionally obnoxious. But I think this is going to be good. You have noise canceling headphones, yes? If not–we are buying really nice ones.

This morning I get to spend some time with a roof evaluator looking at my house. Weeeee. Then I get acupuncture. Then I run around and collect supplies for camping. Then babysitting ends and I take the kids to Oakland. Then I come home and take a nap. Then Noah asked to take me dancing! He turned down an invitation to a different kind of event to take me dancing.

He says he feels bad that he’s never offered in ten years. *Sniff* We dance at weddings. Dat’s it. And he says he feels bad about that because his issues with dancing weren’t about me and I’m lots of fun to dance with.

I am not a well established part of the dance community who will sneer about how you aren’t a very good dancer. I’m not polished. I’m not perfect. I fuck up constantly when I dance and my reaction is to laugh and laugh and laugh. I’m there to move around and have fun. I’m not that picky.

If someone comments on my footwork being messy I turn around and wiggle my butt at them. I am not there for stage performance quality dancing.

I do not aspire to being here for your entertainment, motherfucker.

I hope he will have fun. I know I will. We are going to the Saddlerack which will be entertaining.

Then in the morning we will finish the last bits of packing and drive down to Santa Cruz early for some time at Kiva before the camp event. Given how my back feels… let’s do some relaxing before I camp. Goodness.

Spasms suck. But it is that kinda week.

We will have a nice lunch in Santa Cruz too. We will talk and talk and talk. God I love talking to him. That’s what kid free weekends are for us: let’s alternate talking and sex. The whole time. We’ll barely sleep.

Why would we want to do anything else?

We will talk a lot more about the structure of this nonmonogamy stuff. Maybe start writing more down.

I gotta say, his current entrenched position is much less threatening than the position he has held for many years. This is progress.

I’m looking forward to camping. I’m looking forward to the easiest conversation of all happening this weekend so a little bit of the poison in my belly will dissipate.

I’m scared of one conversation in particular. That one is freaking me the fuck out. Why am I so afraid of that one. It’s the only one where I’m afraid of punishment or negative response. I think everyone else will be fairly close to “Oh. Ok. So that’s what you’re doing.” This one person… I’m afraid I am going to hurt them a lot.

I feel so bad.

No way out but through.

I don’t feel like Noah and I understand the shape of this yet. Not fully. I’m still scared of that.

The good news really does change a lot of stuff. Holy shit.

I picked that title because I don;t need to cement in my head that this process is terrifying. Eeep.

Trying to figure out what frame I want to talk to Noah about and compare to the frame that he wants is hard enough. Then trying to figure out what I might want to ask other people for so that we can have a conversation in which they are allowed to ask for what they want…

I want to hide in a closet.

Do I really have to talk in person to people like this instead of just talking around them in my blog? WHY?! THAT’S NOT FAIR. I DON’T DO WELL AT THE IN PERSON TALKING.

sob.

Eeeeeeep.

But I’d kinda both like to still be close friends with these people and I’d like to bang them and whether I like it or not… it gets messy.

Sob. Rend garments. Rip hair. Agony.

Noooooooooooooooo communication.

You can’t make me.

Ok. No one is trying to make me. So far one person very politely asked and another person said “Or you can tell me the end result–whatever you need” and another said “I’d like to help and I don’t know how.”

Me either. Can you tell me how I feel about these things? That would be useful.

There’s a lot to balance here. Because everyone needs to feel important because everyone is important. We have a really strong dyad in our house and that’s fine… but that doesn’t make any of the folks we want to play with less important.

We just need to talk about where the happy medium is. What is the closest we can get to what we want.

I’m glad we are four days without yelling or screaming now. I hope this trend continues. We are both reacting from a completely terrified and insecure place and I hope that can change.

Noah. I hope I can manage to change my behavior enough to stop scaring the hell out of you. Thank you for being willing to talk about ways you might need to change for me. If we could figure out what we want to ask for it would go faster.

We are getting better. Closer.

I feel like by the end of the month we may end up with a bunch of different written documents. Maybe including flow charts. Years ago I went to a protocol play class taught by Tristan Taormino. She talked about having a 13 page (or more? Memory is fuzzy) document outlining behavior.

I totally got wet thinking about it. Fuck yes. I’ve never forgotten that. The idea of having that much certainty about what you are supposed to do. Swoon.

It was that long and detailed because different situations require different rules. Given that I spent half of last year traveling with my kids because I need them to understand deep in their bones that different situations require different rules and I have historically had a hard time figuring those boundaries out alone…

God I love a good contract.

I looked at my old contract. (Apparently other people have been curious about it a lot lately too because that gets a lot of hits.) It is interesting noting the similarities and differences between what I want now and what I needed then. My Owner really was as close to a Daddy as I could talk him into being.

Do I want that with Noah? Is that what I want forever? I know I want codependent enmeshed stuff, but do I want that kind of taken-care-of forever? I don’t know.

“The slave is to try to contribute positively to the relationship and submit to
commands as they are issued.” I’m giving a side eye to this bullshit right now. My Owner really didn’t like the degree to which my mental health problems impacted his life. Suck it. I get depressed. I get anxious. I get suicidal. I feel intense self harming urges. I’m not always a positive fucking contribution.

I want to feel like I am still welcome here.

I want to feel like I am good enough for Noah even when I don’t feel like I am good enough to justify continuing to eat or sleep or breathe. That’s an unfair burden to place on a person.

What is fair?

One massive difference will be that our “normal” protocol will be out “kid” protocol which is to say… just about none. Like, maybe there are household provisioning things. Or maybe we get more ritualized about hello/goodbye… but dat’s it.

No more in front of the kids.

My kids will never see me kneel to nobody.

This is nonnegotiable.

I don’t give a shit what other people do. This is about me.

Some day my kids will figure out that I’m a sexual submissive and it is going to blow their minds from here to kingdom come. “You?! You do what dad says?!?!?! Hahahahahahahaahaha”

That’s going to be how that goes. About how it went with my mother. “Wait. Say that part again. You do what someone tells you to do?”

I am completely and totally convinced that all my obedience in this life needs to happen on the down low where most people won’t even know it is happening. Safer that way. My experience of looking too sexually submissive in front of people was that it wasn’t safe.

Hi, I’m Krissy. I’m a bad ass motherfucker.

Oh golly. I got an interesting perspective on Youngest Child recently. We are getting to know a new little friend and there was a mild altercation between this new friend and YC. The other child hit YC and I guess YC glowered back but didn’t hit. I wasn’t clear if there was verbal threatening of some variety on YCs part…. but there was a lot of intensity involved. Enough that the other child was affected.

That’s my baby. I’m proud. Keep that shit up.

I was asked if I had a good day. I didn’t sleep well. I’m in a lot of pain. The kids are all fussy and I have five of them here. I did tons of chores (laundry, dishes, vacuuming, sweeping, putting books away, helping kids clean their room) and I took a rest period during babysitting.

I really can’t complain about my day.

I’m thinking a lot about this negotiation thing. I don’t want to be “polyamorous”. I’m also ok with being an asshole. But I really don’t want to hurt my friends if that is avoidable. That makes everything about sex and emotions complicated. Even if I’m “just” nonmonogamous… I love these people.

What does love mean anyway?

I don’t really know.

But I know I love you.

I know I want you to be happy and to be treated well. I know that I need to deal with my triggers around some of this in some way even if that means there are some things I pussy foot around because PTSD sucks.

Maybe non-traumatized people should never make a rule to avoid trauma. I’m less convinced that I should never create rules for managing trauma. That’s a thing.

Especially if it is things like, “Being nearby when Noah plays with friends is fun and exciting and when he does it away from me… I completely flip out so let’s make sure I’m nearby when you play.”

Is it “fair”?

What the fuck does fair mean.

I’m not saying it is a fair reaction. I’m not saying that flipping out is a rational response. I’m saying it has been predictable for over 15 years. I don’t share that well. It is complicated and layered and I have distinct limits around it.

Is it fair that Noah is less possessive so I have more leeway? Maybe not.

I’m not sure he is less possessive. He is less traumatized. It makes a difference.

If he really and truly couldn’t handle it… we’d figure something out.

But should I have to handle something because he can? I struggle with that. I feel very small and ashamed because I can’t just match his generosity of spirit.

I know it has been nice for me and I suspect it has been nice for Noah to hear the long list of things we each feel insecure about. There was a big part of me that didn’t really believe we would work out. But 10 years later I want him a lot more than I did at the beginning.

I respect him more. I appreciate him more. I like him more. Knowing Noah more deeply makes me want to make sure I never ever lose access to this person.

When pretty much anyone looks at me I’m always trying to figure out why I’m wrong and what I need to try and tone down to not bother them.

Noah is the only person in the whole world who has ever looked at me like I am his dream come true. That’s heady shit, yo. I try as hard as I can to give that back.

The calm in the storm is over.

This shit sucks to talk about. Like whoa. What are we doing? There are so many layers to “fair” here. We want and need different things. We really do.

The things we can offer aren’t necessarily the things we want to receive.

The things we want to receive… we can’t offer even a little. We are so different.

Monogamy has meant a lot of “let’s not talk about x problem because there is nothing we can do about it” and that’s getting blown up. That means we are talking about shit we maybe should have talked about years ago and we just didn’t know how. Or it hurt too much. Or something.

This is hard. What do we really need? That’s hard to say out loud. We need different things. That’s very true. We have always needed different things.

I have read a lot about 50/50 marriages. Where folks try real hard all the time to make things “equal” like who earns money, how to negotiate child care, splitting up housework…

God that sounds hard.

We aren’t good at doing the same things. If I had to earn 50% of our income… it would go down like whoa. If Noah did 50% of the housework he would have a lot less time and energy for paying attention to me and I consider that a bad trade.

I will happily keep the house clean while you are busy with shit I can’t prevent you from doing so that at the end of the day you will turn the full radiance of your attention on me. Fuck vacuuming. I can do the vacuuming.

I want your attention. I want your attention. I want your attention. I want your attention.

Not getting enough of Noah’s attention feels like a plant withering from water. I cannot live. I cannot grow. This is not a want. This is a need. I will die piece by piece if I do not get this.

We have never been all that good at balancing this. I would drain Noah dry if he wasn’t careful. I want so much time and so much attention.

If Noah worked 10 hours a week and spent the rest of his time with me, that would be ok with me.

I remember Auntie freaking out when Uncle Bob retired. She went out and got a job to get the fuck away from him.

I can’t wait until Noah spends more time with me. Please. He’s trying to have his next job be a remote job so he can work from home. I think that sounds dreamy. It will help him with his extreme burnout on dealing with people. It will let us just… be in a room together more. We like that.

I don’t want to date other people because I want less time with Noah. I want to date other people because when I do so our sex life is off the chart amazing. It is true that I was not willing to discuss limits on what I was doing a month or so ago. I really wasn’t. I shut you down. I know I didn’t communicate about that. I know I scared you. I know I hurt you.

I am sorry about that.

I know it still hurts the way I’m framing Portland. I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m not sorry I realized I need this that badly. I’m not sorry that I limited my cheating in the exact way I did. I’m glad I had at least that much restraint and yeah I know that is chicken shit.

I’m glad I didn’t fuck up bigger. Clearly I needed to fuck up.

I feel really bad for being so god damn glad that I only fucked up that big. It was a fuck up. Yes. I am so very happy I only fucked up like that. When my self-control goes… shit I’m glad I did that well. I know I hurt you. I know you want me to be way way way more contrite than I know how to be about this. It is so complicated in my head.

I’m so glad I didn’t fuck up bigger that it is hard to be as sorry as you want me to be.

That’s weird and hard.

I am sorry I hurt you. That’s a full stop. I know that’s a chicken shit apology. That’s not a real apology. I know that. I am sorry I hurt you.

I am sorry I couldn’t talk about more pieces of this before I flipped out and just had to go fucking play with people. I’m sorry I told you I wouldn’t follow any rules and scared you so much. That was terribly unkind. I really should have found a way to negotiate a short going off leash period… not acted like that was the way things are now.

I really fucked that up.

I don’t want the rest of my life to look like April. As awesome as my friends are.

Noah. I am here for this. But I’ve always liked having lots of people come over. I’ve always had lots of friends. I just want to have sex with more of them more often. Because that’s fun. Yeah I’d like it if you were there most of the time. Any sex that involves you is better than sex without you. And to be honest, after all these years it is weird to orgasm without asking for permission and you don’t want me asking anyone else. It’s hella convenient for you to be there.

I’m insecure about the loss of time and attention. It’s not about your dick. Not really. I know I’m enmeshed. I know I… pull maybe more of my sense of self from this relationship than is strictly speaking healthy but this has gone so much better than anything and everything else I’ve ever tried. That’s complicated.

Sigh.

I’m nervous to speculate here about some of the stuff we are talking about. Intensity vs variety. What do they mean? What do we want?

What do we need in order to feel safe and happy? We are different. We need different things.

We are filling in different shapes of gaping holes in our hearts.

I’m happy to help shovel for you if you help shovel for me.

I know you don’t feel very likable. But I like you so much. I’ve already devoted 1/3 of my life to you and I plan to have that percentage only increase.

I’m frustrated with the idea that I shouldn’t feel entitled to anything from you. I don’t find that very useful.

Wow. I just had an interaction that I want to start reacting to. And I don’t. So time to stop typing.