I see I’ve been remiss in my commitment to posting more often. I even had a pretty great image for last Sinful Sunday’s “With a Camera” theme. I’m so bummed I didn’t gather up the energy to post it. Or, you know, schedule it ahead of time. It’s not like I didn’t know for weeks beforehand that I’d be out of town on a float and cabin-camping trip with a bunch of lovely friends this past weekend. Boo on my (non) preparedness skills!
That out-of-town thing was pretty spectacularly fun, by the way. It being sooo much fun is in part why I didn’t post the picture Sunday. I was HUNGOVER Sunday like a big dog. Not that I am proud of being hung, but for once I didn’t have any regrets for having got that way. I accepted my pounding head as perfectly reasonable payment for having an amazing day the day before, without doing anything I regretted. Hey, I didn’t roofie myself, so I remember most everything, I got flirted with by a really cute boy and only kissed him – didn’t end up having drunk sex that I would have regretted later – I didn’t puke or do anything stupid, and even the dumb drunk girl things I did (mostly having to make everyone pull over in our rafts so I could go pee in the bushes – shy bladder and I couldn’t go in the water, no matter how much everyone tried to get me to, lol) were kinda cute, if the tenor of the gentle teasing I got the next day was any barometer. And I made new friends! I was actually…social!
Well, after the first night.
The first night we all met up and had dinner at a little restaurant in the tiny river town where we had rented cabins. There were about 24(?) of us. Oh, and PS, because its germane to the kind of fun we had, we are all part of a local group that attends nude and semi-nude pool parties and the occasional kinky/swinger sleep-over. They are a great bunch of people, some just nudists, some kinksters, some poly, some swingers, a lot of them crossovers (like us.) I did pretty well at dinner, being conversational, but then when we got back to the cabins and play started happening, rather than just popping up to get played with (they were trying out a new flogger on anyone that wanted to) I stayed put on the couch, leaning on Ad. I really wanted him to get up and get his toy bag out, but I should have known better. Opportunities came and went, I even went up and fetched his bag myself, but, other than an initial bit of slapping my thighs a couple times while I was on the couch, he didn’t initiate anything. So I went upstairs to our bed in the loft and sulked. He came up there after a few minutes, and only then, when he saw me sulking, did he play with me a little. It wasn’t public play, which I was hankering after, and nothing like a real scene, but at least the crowd downstairs could hear, lol. I am determined to just point blank tell him to play with me – or better yet, pull him out into the playspace – the next function we attend. Which *could* be this weekend!
Anyway, aside from that bit of reservedness on my part, I acquitted myself quite well in the “socializing” department. I’ll get better at it, without having to take anxiety medication, I swear!
Today, I am sitting here at work, zinging with anticipation. Viper is back home after 12 loooong days (two of them trying to get home after his flight was delayed and cancelled.) I see him tonight, and tomorrow night, a rare two-nights-in-a-row treat. He actually got home last night, and we Facetimed a little. That didn’t go so well, dealing as it was with him having made a scheduling error that meant I didn’t get to have him at my house Thursday, which I had really wanted him to be. I wanted to welcome him home in my home, in my way. It was important to me, though it probably doesn’t make sense to anyone else, and probably not even to him. I know we are all of us a polycule, a group, but he and I are also just he and I, and I really really wanted for us to be alone, no child, no sitter (and even no roommate, who was house-sitting) for the first night that I saw him after being away for so long. And especially because he was away over our Date-versary. (Our third! Wow how time flies.)
But. It isn’t to be. I will be at his house tonight – which hey, don’t get me wrong, I love being at! It just wasn’t the homecoming I had envisioned.
I am proud of myself though. I believe I conducted myself very well upon hearing the disappointing news. Feeling sad (and yes, a little miffed at him) did, however, chase away the orgasm I had earned last night.
I have no roommate till Tuesday, so I was all alone in the house and had spent a lovely evening after work just…doing nothing, really. Puttering around in my yard, doing dishes, taking care of my African violets, playing a little Words With Friends and reading. I had made myself a delicious supper of caprese salad and a glass of wine, and, having completed the three chores I had to do in order to earn the right to flip a coin to see if I got an orgasm or had to edge, I had taken myself upstairs, made my bed, lit candles, turned on the fairy lights and did exactly that – flipped the coin. And got heads! Woot! An orgasm! I decided to make it extra special and use my new – barely used – waterproof Baldy-wannabe while I took a bubble bath. And I thought I’d Marco Polo it for V, as a little preview of us being together and sharing sexy time the next night. Maybe we’d take a bath together, maybe I’d light the candles and give him a massage…I had all kinds of thoughts. He had already wished me goodnight, but I figured he would see the MP this morning and enjoy it.
And then, for some odd reason, I decided if I was going to bath, I would do my exercises beforehand, because why not?
“Are you still awake?” he texted, 30 seconds into my 60 second plank.
“Yes,” I responded, “why?” I already had an inkling, because he never texts me to talk after he has said goodnight unless it’s bad news. I went back to my last 30 seconds. Just as I finished, I heard the Facetime sound, which I am still unfamiliar with, so it took me a minute to realize what it was. And then I knew something was up. Maybe he just misses me, I thought (hoped.) But no, he was giving me the bad news that he had screwed up the schedule and could not, in fact, come to my house Thursday night.
Yeah, talk about cunt-blocked! If I’d had a penis it would have totally drooped. The best laid plans, right? Instead I got to undo all my special me-time arrangements, crawl into bed feeling alone and disappointed, and crash fairly early. But not before I heard a part of a book that I am listening to that helped me put my head in a better place. In it, the two main characters have climbed a long hill. At the crest of it, they look down on a valley with a lake in it, across which they will have to traverse on foot. The woman looks at it and sees its beauty, the sun glinting on water, the birds, the lush grasses and tall trees; the man looks and sees the many more miles they have to go, how hard it will be to scrabble down the other side of the hill, how he wishes they had horses, how tired he is. She is filled with joy, even though she knows all these things as well as he does. He, well, he hates everything.
You can see where this is going, can’t you. The story snippet helped me to recenter myself and appreciate what’s really important.
By this morning I had turned my own head around, was over my pique at him and am looking forward very much to seeing him tonight. In the end, it doesn’t matter where we are together, it just matters that we are together.