Getting It In

Time is so precious in poly relationships.  I’m traveling to Chicago to see my old friend today.  It’s one of the trips I’d hoped to make this year.  I’m traveling more and it’s part of that “making the life I crave” thing.  I’m not taking all the trips I’d hoped, but I am taking a few.  I got to see Portland finally and Victoria.  And I’m headed to Chicago and Phoenix.  It’s not totally responsible of me frankly because I’m using my savings for some of this, but my Dad left me a little money and I wanted to spend part of it doing something like this.  I know he’d like it that I used a little to see people I love and have new experiences.  He always said “get the power windows honey.  You only live once and you’ll never regret having gotten the power windows”.

hourglass Continue reading

Change is Good


Little things you do can make a big difference to those who love you.  I think there’s a lot of talk about how to show people you love them and there’s lots of stories of grand gestures.  I’m not against them, honestly, but it’s the little stuff that I crave and the little stuff that sustains me.  I love epic dates with deep talks and insanely large amounts of kissing and touch and amaze-balls sex and all of that.  BELIEVE ME.. I don’t turn my nose up at that kinda thing.  But a million little things adding up over time is somehow more soothing to me.  Maybe it’s that I’ve had so many grand gestures that add up to nothing or because I’ve lost really important things when the every day was forgotten, or maybe it’s just my perspective.. whatever.  But big big gestures just aren’t enough. Continue reading

Old Comfortable Love

This beautiful post was shared by a Ginger at “Poly Nirvana”, and I have to share it too.  It’s achingly true.

Old Love is Not Like Comfortable Slippers by Poly Oliver, at “An Open Book”.


THAT is what I had.  THAT is what I lost.  THAT is why I took so very very long to walk away and why me, a girl who would never tolerate such things, sucked up abuse for almost a year.  I kept thinking any day that he would turn back into himself.  And he didn’t.  Continue reading


I just had great dates and a great night with friends.  Cleveland and I had this sort of wonderful midweek date with talking and walking and fucking and eating and petting and snuggling.  We’re getting excited for our Portland trip and I just love how things are going there.  It’s funny when things are kinda right how easy and good they are.  There isn’t any angst or gnashing of teeth.  There isn’t any big discussions or issues.  It’s just good.  The affection is good, the sex, the talk, the fun, the plans the hobbies.. all of it.  I just enjoy being with him.  The only hard part is sometimes missing him.

Then Traveler and I had a great date.  I had all these plans and in the end he was just too tired, which worked because I was too tired too.  We went to get a cocktail and the food looked yummy and we ate there.  Then I got a little randy and attacked him, and he was an all too willing victim, and then we played Wow and snuggled each other to sleep.  It sounds like a boring date, as so many of our dates do, but it was not at all boring.  Again, I just have so much joy.

I love that the men I love are such good friends to me.  I love the level of conversation I can have with them and the just… good.  I can’t tell you somehow or express how much I am just in pure and utter joy.  I like it.  I like it all.  I like it exactly, in every way, exactly as it is.  I find myself gazing at them sometimes, while they blog or fold clothes or smile at me, and I am thinking just how lucky I am.  It’s an amazing thing to find someone you respect and love, who excites you and holds you, gets you and lets you get them.  It’s just such a marvel to so love and be loved.  It’s one of life’s precious things and I rain kisses on their faces and soak up all the smiles.  Ahhhhhhh.. Just Ahhhhhhh.  After the long and difficult road at times… Ahhhhhhhh.

My letter to Traveler

I wrote the following letter to Traveler. I changed only the names.

“Hey honey. I am afraid this is going to be a long and woo woo one and I totally get if you don’t have time to read it, but I feel like my heart is really open and I wanted to say a couple of things to you. I know I tell you all the time and I try to show you, but I am so fucking crazy about you. I love you. I love your very soul. Wow. That’s just… I’m not deleting it, though I want to. I think I tell you all the time, but I hold something back sometimes because I don’t want to be “too much” or scare you or be weird.

I just got back from a talk with [your wife], and damn. I totally get why you talk about her wisdom and her heart. The more I get to know her the more I am in awe and I just love her. She is one of the most unique and wonderful people I have ever met. It takes a long time for people to get to know me usually, which isn’t something a lot of people get because I seem so open and easy to know. I keep this well of all my woo woo shit and my vulnerable bits kinda to myself. You of course have seen some of that and I’ve gotten a bit dramatic or vulnerable or woo woo with you, but I’m usually pretty careful too. It just kinda flowed with her tonight. She just brought it out in me. I just felt so open. Something about her I guess..

Anyway, I could not fight this urge, all the way home to think of the email I wanted to send you. I wanted to pour my heart out and tell you every damn thing I think, but I’ll just tell you a few.

I am grateful for you. I am grateful that you are the person you are. I see how hard you try to do the right thing and to be honest and just and kind. I see the strength it takes to live that way and the difficulty. I see the impossible position you are in sometimes and I’m sorry that I contributed to that. I hate those times I’ve been insecure and splashed you with the stuff I’m feeling and processing.

I want to shield you from it and not make you pay for anyone else’s mistakes, but it DOES affect me and it has affected you and I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every tiny jealous bit or insecure moment. I think you know it’s not how I generally am, but I’m sorry it’s splashed you at all and I know you’re empathetic enough that you’ve felt it. You work so hard to be even and just and it sucks that you even have to. I wish I didn’t do that to you. It sucks that it’s anything you ever have to worry about. I dislike that I am part of that.

I think of you a lot, and it is generally counting my blessings. I just wanted you to know that I see the effort and the heart you are putting out there and I appreciate it. I see how kind and loving and compassionate and intuitive you are. I see the things that weigh on you and the ways you live with decency and kindness and empathy. I’ve leaned really heavily on you and I’m not sure what I would have done without you.

I’m thinking of how exhausting this past weekend must have been for you. You really had no time for rest or relaxation or time to yourself and that must have been difficult and tiring.

I can’t seem to capture it now and it doesn’t seem as good as it was in my head. I guess I just want to tell you that I love you and I’m sorry for my mess. Thank you for loving me the way you do. Thank you for getting me and sharing your life and your self with me. Thank you for being who you are. Thank you for bringing [your wife] into my life. Just Thank You.

Enough of my mushy drivel. I will regret this tomorrow and be embarrassed that I went on and on, but whatever. I’ll blame the fact that it’s late or that I had a drink. We won’t concentrate on the fact that it’s only 1220 and I had one drink for almost two hours. It was the bourbon that made me mushy. Yeah… the bourbon.

As long as I’m so “influenced” I can say whatever I want, and go on and on with impunity, I have to tell you that I love your very soul. I love you for being exactly who you are exactly as you are.



women talkI had this talk with Traveler’s wife about some of what I’ve been going through and life and such.  We just were able to talk.  She kinda opened up and I’m thanking my lucky stars and I opened up with her too.  I was so woo woo.  I needed that.  It just soothed me.  I felt so open and so full of love.  I felt like someone really got it and got me and told me I wasn’t crazy and I was safe.  I really can’t do it justice.  I just needed it so much and didn’t realize how much I needed it.  It was a balm to me.

Blogiversary – One Year

Today is the one year mark of this blog and the milestone of 300 real subscribers.  (I don’t count the unreal bot-like followers). Image

I just want to kind of acknowledge a year of blogging.  What a freaking year!  I briefly skimmed back through my old blogs.  It’s been a year of tremendous growth and change.  Honestly many of the old angsty blogs embarrass me, but I’m leaving them. 

I decided a while ago that I would not rewrite or delete history, no matter how much I want to sometimes. I’m embarrassed at the gushy mushy love stuff and my proclamations of certainty in situations that proved far from certain, but you know.. they are still valid.  I wish I hadn’t written some of those blogs and I’m glad I did. 

It’s not fair to look back at myself or my life or my blog with the benefit of hindsight, which is always 20/20 and judge the person making those remarks.  We do the best that we can with the knowledge we have in the situation. I’ve made so many mistakes. I’ve said things I’m not proud of and worried about things that didn’t matter and failed to see the impending catastrophe sometimes.  I took risks and lost sometimes.  It’s making me think I am my father’s daughter more than I sometimes admit.

ImageMy dad was the kind of guy that jumped into things, often with great result and sometimes with pretty predictable failure.  He certainly didn’t get it all right.  He was married 4 times to three really crazy women.  He raised me, and honestly fucked that up pretty mightily.  He spent 30 years in a career he hated and died weeks after he FINALLY retired.  That’s one way to see things.

He also left a treasure trove of great stories and pretty amazing success.  He was one of 5 children in a 2-bedroom in the projects of Cleveland.  He was born missing one hand and was still a member of the wrestling team.  He had a high school diploma (barely) and no other education.  He left home to be a cowboy and joined the rodeo, winning a championship in Oklahoma riding Brahma bulls and bronchos before returning to Cleveland.  He learned to draft and worked his way up, creating a lucrative career designing missiles, rover driving systems, fire engines, production equipment, packaging equipment and aerospace and defense components.  He started out with pencils and taught himself computer engineering programs by lying and saying he knew them to get contract jobs and then working his ass off and staying late to learn before they figured it out and fired him.  He bullshitted his way into opening a branch of an international technical firm in Cleveland.  He was involved with a slew of beautiful (if damaged) women and had a daughter he raised single-handedly. He climbed mountains and white-water rafted and shot guns, lots of them.  ImageHe skied and fished and hunted and hiked.  He did amazing wood work and built ham radios.  He camped and helped people and was a good listener, when he wanted to be.  He played guitar and rode and built Harleys, one in our living room.  Remember as you read all of that that he had ONE HAND. 

He died alone on the floor of a motel 6 of a heroin overdose.  He’d been sober 13 years and relapsed with his hooker girlfriend.  The hooker he was with and loved and wanted to save stepped over his dying body and stole his money and cameras and computer and took off with his car.  They only knew his identity because he had hid his wallet in a cracker box so she wouldn’t steal it.  She had stolen from him before.  

I think we are all sums of good and bad parts and I’ve said often that you need your light and your dark.  I’ve had a slew of feedback from readers lately that said something like, “I like your blog because it is so honest”.  It’d be a more flattering blog if I were more evolved or less truthful, but my guess is it’d also be less helpful to those people.  I like the idea that my foibles can be useful to others. I won’t lie and tell you that makes me grateful that I have them, because really I’d rather be graceful and elegant, evolved and serene all the time, but it does make me happy that they at least have some benefit. 

So, fuck it.  I’ll keep learning and trying and risking and building and I’ll just keep getting up, and I’ll write angsty blogs that are too long, because weirdly the feeling blogs are the ones you guys seem to read the most anyway.  (Weird, I know). You’ll have to just bear with me on the ones about kink and fisting and love and reward and sex though, because those are the ones I most like LIVING.  My life is more light than dark and my blog is maybe 50/50.  Image

Blogging is a mostly isolated past-time, spent typing to the proverbial “you”.  I don’t actually know which things you like the best or which posts bring you back, but I’m glad you come here.  I’d write it even if you didn’t, because the act of writing is so useful to me, but it gives me something that you do read it and sometimes comment on it or like it.  I like the gratification of those numbers and messages. If you ever do want more of this or less than that, and you tell me what you want (honest disclosure.. I think that’s a podcast!) I just might do it.

I’m feeling nostalgic today. 

Image365 days of writing.  311 Followers.

On September 4th, 2012 I wrote the first post, titled Cherry Popping.  Since then I’ve written 261 posts that were seen 35,553 times and got 1046 comments.  I wrote about Hubby and the demise of our marriage.  There was Great Date, with our NRE and our squabbles, our heat and our drama and our sad end.  There was briefly Kinky Boy and all the things he taught me, including my love of Kink and why I will never ever ever date anyone else at work, and the fact that I am and always was poly, whether I had the words for it or not. I shared my love and lust of Roller Girl and my jealousy and her betrayal of me too. I STILL miss her all the time. I chronicled the long slow steady fall into love with Traveler and how he calmly and kindly captured my heart utterly, and my love and wonder of Cleveland and the podcasts we make together too. 

I also wrote about Traveler’s wife and Peaches, Great Date’s Gal and Poly V.  I told you about Forensic Guy who I never dated, despite what he said.  You saw me almost consummate something with my dear friend Ph.D and how I just couldn’t in the end because I’ve loved him too long and too well as my friend, but you never know.   

You could say it was a mess, and you’d be right, but it was also one heck of a journey and it’s here, most of it, a year.  What a long strange road it’s been.


Yesterday I moved out of the home I shared with my husband and into my new home.  It was surprisingly less emotional than I expected it to be.  Packing had been hard.  It was jarring to see my home dismantling as I took down the art and rolled up the rugs and grabbed all of the things I would be taking.  Sorting through pictures was tough.  Seeing mementos and things we’d been excited about, and realizing it was all really ending was difficult.  I was wracked with tears packing a box of love letters and cards and mushy stuff from 13 years together.


Loading the truck, in contrast, was decidedly easy (If you count backbreaking labor as easy).  We gouged the crap out of the wall taking out the box spring, but otherwise there were no casualties or tears.  Continue reading