Frangipani

Polyamory, bisexuality and maybe even some atheism

No Big Deal May 8, 2008

Filed under: Definitions,Lust,Polyamory,Sex — Araliya @ 9:35 pm
Tags: , , ,

Another post by Greta Christina on the Blowfish Blog. This one’s about the importance and effect of non-monogamy in relationships, even if said non-monogamy is mostly theoretical. A quick quote.

Which brings me to the best thing about non-monogamy. For me, anyway. When you’re not monogamous, you realize that not every single person you’re attracted to is someone you’d seriously like to fuck if given the opportunity.

Also, check out Greta Christina’s blog for her other writing, particularly her stuff on atheism.

 

I get like this sometimes April 17, 2008

Filed under: Bisexuality,Lust,Sex,Sexuality — Araliya @ 6:05 pm
Tags: , , ,

I woke up thinking of her this morning. I was snuggled up with H and we’d been cuddling in the haze that precedes wakefulness. I felt safe and warm and loved and fully aware that it was his arms holding me – nobody else touches or feels like that. There was nowhere else I wanted to be.

But I was thinking of her too. The way she looked last night. The way I caught myself staring a few times. The way my chest constricted whenever I caught her looking back. For the first time, I began to suspect that she may not be straight, but then I shook it off. Obviously, I want to think that and that alone is enough to throw off my gaydar but good. But she’s sweet and friendly and there were moments when we connected and started to approach, but the room was big and people wanted to talk to us about different things so we couldn’t. And then it was time to go and she asked me if I’d be there next time and I said yes, definitely, and she said oh good.

When I got out of bed, I went and re-read Jen‘s post on the ‘look’. She says:

…Inside that look a million messages are transferred in a frozen moment in time – but all the messages can be reduced to the exact same thing.

Want.

…want to talk to her, date her, kiss her, possess her, touch her, dance with her, fuck her, drown in her, caress her, make love to her, discover her deepest thoughts and secret dreams…want to know more, to learn what makes her heart beat quicker, to know how she tastes and what she sounds like when she comes…want to hear what she is afraid of, what her favorite TV show is, what she is doing on Saturday night…want her to look back…want her to want in return…

Yes. Exactly. That. All of it.

Jen’s was one of the first blogs I read (from beginning to end) before I started my own. I found her through Mortar and Pestle, another blog that served as inspiration to go ahead and write ‘out loud’, so to speak. I also discovered Melissa Ferrick through her and have spent the whole day listening to her stuff. Just what I needed, really. I’m in no mood to listen to men singing about women and women singing about men. Not today.

It’s funny how familiar the person you’re obsessing over begins to look. I love her face – I’m generally quite happy with the way I look, but she has exactly the kind of face I’ve always wanted/thought was the absolute definition of beauty. I find myself memorizing her expressions, her mannerisms, her voice, repeating them in my head so they’ll stick. I caught myself speaking like her just a while ago. It was a little thing, but it stayed with me.

But it’s the little things that get you. They creep in unnoticed and by the time you become aware of them, there are too many to get rid of and they’re already joining forces, taking over. My head’s full of images. Her laughing, arguing with someone, raising her eyebrows when she’s making a point, asking a question, saying hello, sipping a drink, being nice to someone who’s irritating her, slipping her arms into her jacket, walking away. She looks both strong and fragile. Her voice catches and trembles sometimes. I love watching her wrapping herself up before she steps out about as much as I like watching her peel it off – perhaps more.

I feel vaguely happy today. Vaguely high. I wish I weren’t so easily…what? Distracted (from everything else I should be doing, that is)? Enchanted? Obsessed? I don’t know. But if I’m going to be in this funny state, I suppose I may as well enjoy it while it lasts.

 

intentions, assumptions, stupidity, and validation April 13, 2008

Filed under: Figuring it out,Sex — Araliya @ 7:10 pm
Tags: ,

I don’t quite know where to begin this. I’ve had both a great and a shitty week all at once. Actually, on balance, it’s been more good stuff than bad, but the bad was quite spectacularly so, at least for me, and has taken a while to get out of my system.

Earlier in the week, I went out with a group of people from work that included a (straight) man that I quite like. He’s interesting to talk to and not unattractive so it promised to be a fun evening, though I’d told H to expect me home relatively early. Things were pleasant and fun so I ended up staying later than I had originally planned and we moved to another bar nearby. And then it all went sour. The guy had far too much to drink and began to ask me why exactly I’d come along when he’d invited me. He was also by then expressing an interest in a young woman in our group (and by ‘expressing an interest’ I mean ‘slobbering all over’) who wasn’t averse to his attentions. Perhaps that made him more cocky or something. I don’t know. But anyway, he basically first set up the situation as my having come out with the express purpose of bedding him, and then announced that he didn’t want to fuck me. He prefaced the statement with a litany of my virtues, which, in retrospect, only made the whole thing more annoying.

For various reasons, I did not empty my drink in his face and crack him over the head with the glass, though I had a brief vision of doing exactly that. I think there was an ice bucket nearby that could have made a handy bludgeon and, had I been as drunk as the other two, I might even have swung it. Unfortunately, I tend to stop drinking when I’m pleasantly buzzed so I was relatively more clear headed than the one-man judge and jury.

I was not clear headed enough, however, to avoid being completely confused. This was hardly the first time I’d gone out casually with friends for a drink but nobody had made this sort of assumption or leveled this kind of accusation at me before. So I thought:

1. Had I said or done something to indicate that I was interested in this man? I didn’t think so. I don’t really flirt much even when I’m very interested and the conversation had been mostly work-related anyway. No double entendres, no come-ons, nothing beyond exactly the same friendly attitude as towards the other people present. In fact, I think the object of his interest and I had touched more than anyone else (she’s an affectionate sort and I have no objection to attractive women touching me).

2. Was I interested? I realized I had been at the start of the evening – as I said, he’s both attractive and interesting – but

3. did that mean that I actually wanted to have sex with him? Right then? No. Without exception I hate drunk men. I will not have sex with a drunk person. In order to avoid sex when drunk, I also avoid getting drunk in the first place (unless I’m with people I trust completely). But even with the intoxication removed from the equation, I still would not have wanted to make things sexual at such an early stage. I knew him only slightly from work, and while I may have found him attractive, I don’t blithely hop into bed with just anyone, regardless of how hot they are.

4. Did my presence there at the end of the evening constitute interest? I hadn’t thought it did. In fact, I had gone along precisely because there were three of us, not two, and because, for various very good personal and professional reasons, I assumed all of us were off limits to each other.

And then I remembered another important detail. My underwear. When getting dressed, I had for a moment considered wearing my favorite lacy pair because they make me feel sexy, but then opted for a plain comfy pair, thinking, “I’m going out with people from work. Why bother?”

This may seem like a lot of agonizing over something a drunk idiot said, but his assumptions sent me for a loop. They made me question my own intentions and made me wonder if I was actually giving not just him but other people the wrong idea somehow.

I did eventually respond to his question with the simple answer that, at least up until he turned into an asshole, I was there simply because I enjoyed talking to him and nothing more. He went a bit quiet after that, then returned to slobbering over the girl (who’d turned bright red during his speech and looked like she wanted to be anywhere but there at that moment). Unfortunately, given that it was well past midnight, the street was empty of cars and crawling with drunks and derelicts, and that I did not know the area at all, I had to stay put till we got kicked out of the place when it closed. I suppose I could have called for a ride home, but they’d already called last drinks and the only thing worse than going out there alone right then would have been waiting there alone after the place closed. Plus, I realized that my presence was bothering the idiot – though not the girl – and I figured that if I could increase his discomfort by staying put, why not? So I sat back turned slightly towards them and finished my drink slowly while they made out. I have to say it was pretty juvenile – there’s a reason I keep calling it slobbering – and I began to find the situation a bit silly by the end of it. I was still quite angry though and also pretty upset at the assumption and the unwarranted rejection as well. I mean, it sucks, but I know how to deal with rejection in response to an actual overture on my part. But how do you respond to an uninvited rejection? Imagine I randomly say to you, in the middle of a conversation about photography, “You’re lovely and interesting and all that, but I don’t want to fuck you.” What the…?

Anyway, we left shortly after that, with the girl being quite sweet about getting me home. I told H the whole stupid story and then spent the following day sleeping it off . Over the course of the day of recovery, I realized that I’d really done nothing to be embarrassed about. I mean, if anyone ought to be sheepish, it should be the idiot who got inebriated, insulted a workmate and took advantage of a dippy young woman, don’tcha think? Yet, much to my irritation, I was still dreading running into him and it was mostly because H tempted me with a lunch date that I went back to work the following day.

And I ended up having a great day. I did not run into the idiot, but I did meet up with another bunch of people for a drink after work. (Honestly, I don’t actually consume that much alcohol. Everyone I know just congregates in bars.) And when I say people, I mean mostly men. Unlike the other night, we directly discussed sexuality and I, for the first time outside of queer groups and my immediate circle, actually mentioned in conversation (though not all at the same time) that I was bi, married, and not monogamous (some of which was expressed as “Hey, me too! Cool. *grin*). Then we said goodbye and went our separate ways.

The following night, I went out again, this time with people from a local queer group and, again, the atmosphere was completely different. Most were bi, some were poly and all of them were casually affectionate but there was no pressure and again no assumptions. I almost didn’t go, but, again, H practically forced me out the door, bless him, and I came back floating and happy. Not because I hooked up with anyone but because I didn’t and wasn’t expected to, even though I ended up staying there late talking with one of the men (there were only two other women there to begin with and they left early).

I know I’m comparing apples and oranges here in a way, and I am resisting translating this into some kind of pronouncement on why I prefer hanging out with queer people because I am aware that the plural of ‘anecdote’ is not ‘data’ and, really, there were other elements in the first situation that didn’t exist in the other two. Nobody got stupidly drunk on either of the two other occasions, for one, and, for another, the individuals involved were different. It is likely that if you add the copious amounts of alcohol, the late hour, and the personalities that were present on the first night to either of the other two, stupid assumptions might have been made there as well. But the fact is, they weren’t. The fact is that I’m looking forward to seeing both of the other groups of people next week. The fact is that the connections I made on the other two nights may develop into pleasant acquaintances and even good friendships. The funny thing, though, is that it is, in a way, thanks to that asshole on the first night that I can honestly say that this is really all I want. Everything else can develop in its own time.

 

Who needs to know, redux April 10, 2008

I’ve found myself in a few situations lately where I’ve wondered whether I should bring up my bisexuality or polyamory. All of these situations were safe and most were just random discussions that wandered into the area of sexuality for a time. But how safe is any situation? (And by ‘safe’ I mean socially and emotionally – physical safety is assumed or I wouldn’t be there).

When a gay girl says something disparaging about bisexuality, is it really worth the effort to jump in? What if the comment isn’t simply ignorant but malicious? Am I, by staying silent, helping to perpetuate whatever negative stereotype is being paraded? And by jumping in, am I necessarily ‘owning up’ to being bisexual? Do I need to do so in order to make my point more effectively or can I simply defend the idea of bisexuality, let everyone else come to their own conclusions, and only identify myself as bi when or if someone asks directly?

What about polyamory? Bisexuality – even though it is unique in the LGBTIQ lineup in that it keeps the sex-meaning-fucking part front and centre, thereby making people more uncomfortable than less obviously sexual words like ‘gay’ and ‘lesbian’ or sex-meaning-plumbing words like ‘transsexual’ and ‘intersex’ – refers to orientation whereas polyamory refers more directly to mostly sexual/amorous practice (or potential practice). Bisexuality also has a higher profile than polyamory and therefore, even though the assumptions made may not be to one’s liking, saying that one is bisexual doesn’t really require very many explanations. Whatever they think of it, people pretty much have an idea of what it is. Polyamory, on the other hand, is relatively less known and therefore can require more explanation. Plus people have far more ‘morality’ issues with it than with bisexuality because while bisexuality may challenge the binary paradigm to some extent, people can digest it as being a kind of alternating serial monogamy. Polyamory is a far more direct challenge and can therefore – running with the alimentary imagery for a second – tend stick in their craw.

I have, on occasion, spoken up and, each time, have received that side-on, questioning-assessing look from both straight and gay people. Nobody said anything and, to be fair, some people didn’t really seem to care either way, or were generally accepting of what I had to say, so it’s not all bad, but I wonder still about the further-reaching effects of the assumptions made by those who did take note. My work involves interaction with people at what can be a fairly personal level, and I don’t want those assumptions about sexuality and promiscuity to affect it. The only way to address that is to address it directly, but that isn’t guaranteed to work because people generally don’t want to talk about other people’s sexual practice unless they’re directly involved or want to be (and sometimes not even then), and such discussions can end up leading to even more erroneous assumptions because your listeners are filtering what you’re saying through their own understanding of what you’re talking about.

The other thing is that I like hearing people’s perspectives on sex, sexual politics, sexuality, queer theory, and so on, so I end up in these discussions relatively often and I don’t particularly want to stop. But then they go all wobbly and weird and I don’t know whether I should step in and right them – or attempt to – and in the process set myself up for more scrutiny than I’d necessarily like or just let them run out of steam.So, I thought I’d ask the lovely people who stop by here.

In such situations, what would or do you do and what kind of effect, if any, would or does that have on your life?

 

Public Service Announcement: When is a mango not a mango? March 26, 2008

Filed under: Lust,Sex — Araliya @ 10:59 pm
Tags: ,

When a rather attractive man casually boards a tram with a half-peeled mango in his hand and proceeds to eat it, that’s when.

Now, you can hold the mango as you would any hard fruit, but allow me to remind you that mangoes are not hard. No. They are, in fact, rather squishy and juicy. So much so that, while you may dive in with the ol’ bite and suck, some juices will nevertheless escape and start to run. Given that you will be hanging on to your grocery shopping with the same hand that’s bracing you during your ride home, you will have no choice but to catch these dribbles with your mouth. Much licking, lapping and slurping will ensue, after which, you will turn your attention once again to biting into the fruit, causing more juices to go running down the sides and onto your hand and wrist. To prevent them from traveling down your forearm and dripping off your elbow, you will have to lick them off your skin. That done, you will, with remarkable unselfconscious and laudable dedication, continue to nibble and suck on the gorgeously textured flesh of the fruit in your hand.

Incidentally, you will also be driving anyone in possession of both a cunt and eyes in your vicinity Absolutely. Fucking. Batshit. Insane.

Just thought you should know.

 

Freaksexual March 25, 2008

Freaksexual is a wonderful blog I found (via Bitchy Jones) in which Pepper deals intelligently and accessibly with issues surrounding polyamory and sexuality. The entries are more essays than posts but please don’t let their length put you off. They’re excellent reading regardless of how well acquainted you are with polyamory, but they’re particularly valuable if, like me, you’re just starting out with this whole non-monogamy thing. You could start with the latest post or start at the beginning or however you do it, but I’d recommend you make reading “Polyamory is not about the sex, except when it is” a priority either way.

 

Want! March 23, 2008

Filed under: Sex — Araliya @ 3:39 pm
Tags:

From the Blowfish Blog again. The Delight rechargeable vibrator. I don’t much like vibrators, but this one is just so darn pretty I may have to get it anyway. Seriously. Go look.