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Oversharing Red Flag

The very definition of an oversharing red flag: Part 2 of 3. Part 1 is here.

I am going to try out a new yoga class today (Saturday, July 2) at 2:30. Hope I like it. I don’t like this process. Lifestyle repair. 🙂

Speaking of repair – my nails are still holding up. Not sure how long they or the polish will last. It’s pretty weird to see them growing out. They really did file down pretty far. I’m actually scared to see what’s underneath… I hope not to. Dunno. I may just get the polish replaced but not the nails, hopefully that’ll work.

What color should I get? I wanted to get something sexy for you. But I dunno if you want that. I dunno if you don’t, either. I was thinking maybe a dark red, but I’m not sure what you’d like really. Guess I’ll just get what makes me feel sexy. Oversharing red flag.

I want to know when you say “it cost me a lot” to share that phone call with me – what do you mean? You sounded rawer than you ever have. I want to know what you lost, what you spent. 

For me, if it had been me, I would have felt I’d gained something, not lost it. I would have gained insight and understanding of myself. I have never had the experience of admitting to someone something I wasn’t ready to admit to myself though – I can’t understand what it’s like to be you, here… not quite. I’m asking because I don’t like that it cost you something to make me understand and feel okay. If I could understand better I could help it to be different next time. If there is one. There has to be one.

My St. Louis man has a girlfriend I figured out through Facebook.

I’m not sure what the right thing to do is. Respect her monogamous bullshit? I’d be pissed if I was in a monogamous thing and my bf was exchanging dirty pix with some hot blonde. I feel bad for her. It’s too bad he feels he has to lie. But… he was real fucking truthful with me… I’m not breaking any agreements… still. :/ 

If the Plant Whisperer were more conscious of these things I would say this counts as dysfunctional, cuz she could find out and make my life hard. But it’s not like we text or send dirty photos more than once or twice a year… I’d hate to have to find someone to replace him. He’s special. Oversharing red flag.

I talked to The Plant Whisperer. He said that if you and I ever have intercourse – yes, penetrative sexual intercourse, your cock in my pussy – that’s where he will feel unpredictably different about the parameters of things and we will have to process and figure out what everyone is comfortable with. 

I asked him why – as in my mind penetration is not the Big Deal at all, the Big Deal is that I am in love with you in a way more intimate than with him and have been for longer than I have with him coupled with NRE.

But in his mind: “penetration changes the nature of the relationship”. 

I agree with him, somewhat, but only somewhat. He says that he actually looks forward to getting to try out the poly stretching and flexing that he will undergo at that point, and he says he’s not worried. He says that you and I have way, way, way more anxiety about the whole thing than he does.  

Yeah. He’s special. See how quickly I forgive? *sigh*

The good thing about this experience is that I am writing. Writing here to you. Writing in editing my friend’s book. In my journal. Emails and messages. Writing writing writing, writing on the deck in the wind and the rain. Lots of dabs too. Voice hoarse, pen dry.

And my best friend is coming to visit, my favorite editor. My brother. For ten whole days! I can’t wait. He’s only staying here two of them. Which is good cuz wife and the kids will be with him. That will be such a treat, I am sure. It’s rough being so far from family, I’ve been far from him for so long, but the time zones make a big difference. He’s twelve hours off in Bangkok. As I will be – all winter.

So please hurry up and spend some of your summer with me 🙂 There is no future like today. Oversharing red flag.

Off to yoga. And The Plant Whisperer came with me, which was great. Until we got back, and unpacked the laundry, and I found that he’d just shoved 2 of the pairs of Thinx in with the rest of the laundry, despite that I’d had them separated in a bag. And dried them. Which I know won’t ruin them with one time, but yet again…

and it’s not like he’s doing the laundry out of the goodness of his heart, or that it’s his turn and we take turns. He is doing it because he’s being paid to do it, $50/hr minimum. More like $100/hr usually. He’s paid out of rent credit from Airbnb since doing the sheets is part of the laundry.

I can *COUNT* on him to fuck things up.

Every time. I knew, as I explained to him that the Thinx needed to be washed separately – three times – the first of which you were standing there for – as we made jokes about getting me a panty bag. Explained how much they cost, $30/pair. I explained how many I had, and counted them out in front of him twice.

“Well how many are there?” “Five.” “FIVE?!” “Yes, five. How many did you think that there were?” “I don’t know. i just thought I’d see them all.” “Well then why is the number surprising, were you counting to anything specific?” “No.” “Then how did you know you were done pulling them all out of the laundry?” “I just wanted to finish.”

Sorry. I know this is a lot of complaining about him. Oversharing red flag.

But this is my life. And there just aren’t that many people capable of understanding it. I’m sharing my life. I’m hoping – I dunno, I’m hoping that this is a normal relationship where we stay in touch and share things with each other. I dunno why I’m writing this actually. I guess to keep me from writing to you.

Damn I’m so proud of you. You went straight into high level polyamory processing and negotiation and killed it. You are better at that communication than either he or I are. So fucking hot. Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck.

Yoga was decent though.

I could go back. I put that teacher’s classes on the calendar. I’ll continue to go to classes and try other teachers out, but I am glad I at least found something already. It was a very balanced class. With way too many people, but yeah. There was also an anorexic – a real one – in the front of class, who may have actually purged in the bathroom halfway through class. I hate that I see these things, sometimes. I hate more that other people don’t.

My friend Marvin who I met in LA a few years back on OKC as a friend (from the getgo, online, we knew it was friends only and were immediate buddies) just friended me on Facebook today cuz he just started a Facebook account. I haven’t talked to him in like 2 years cuz I couldn’t get in touch with him. He says he’s in New York starting in August! Which is awesome. He’s a couple years older than I am. He was a roadie for grunge bands and slung LSD and didn’t finish high school, when I knew him he went to community college and worked at a porn shop at nights, studying history so he could go get a real degree because he felt he belonged in academia. 

Looks like he is going to school at Columbia for history. 😀 I’m proud. 

He is super smart, but never nurtured it early. Super street smart too. Very hometown punk in a way, but more exposure and knows the history of the world. We used to sit on the curb outside Starbucks in the valley and drink coffee while he smoked cigarettes and tell each other road stories, or go to bookstores and browse and talk about ideas.

I really, really enjoyed being his friend, because it’s one of those friendships where both of us really don’t on any level want to fuck each other. So his perverted misogynist bullshit never really bothered me because he’s self-aware and not making it my problem. And he did warn me, multiple times, that Francis was a werewolf. Heh. Marvin. I’m psyched that a piece of my LA life will make it to NYC. Oversharing red flag.

Got friends in your town, too. I’m upset. I don’t know what to do, to go, to not go… I definitely won’t go if you don’t contact me within a week because I can’t risk our progress even to see dear friends I never do. Which sucks. I don’t know how to manage this situation.

I feel damned if I do, damned if I don’t.

This isn’t me. Is it? Did I do something to drive you away? What’d I do? I don’t think it’s me. I think I’m being normal. Don’t know why you pull away exactly. I guess it’s fear and the need for some level of comfort. I know you used the squirrel analogy. Got that. I guess you feel it so strongly. 

But this is, on some level, killing me. I feel like you’re safe in your warm hole while I’m freezing and sick and terrified and injured out here, with my nuts in my hand. I’m just trying my best to breathe through it. Deal with it. It’s all in my head. All in my head. It’s all in my head. Time is an illusion and someday we’ll look back on this. This too shall pass.

Crying now, again. Feels like heartbreak to me. It’s not though, is it? It’s not.

Just a sensation. Just another sensation. Another feeling to learn to have. 

No one has my back here though – this isn’t something I have support for. I’ve asked but I can’t be honest. I try, but I can’t. I just break down. The Plant Whisperer is the closest support and even though I’m so, so frank with him… the depths of it I can’t put him through. I feel compassion for myself and love… but also pity I have to admit. It feels so lonely and empty without you. Even when I was in South America traveling and not speaking to you, I feel you with me. But this – this feels like, well, when we didn’t speak for a couple years.

My heart is just aching.

To Be Continued…


Wrestling with Monogamy:

Whoring For Lifetimes

Monogamous Men

Other Woman


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