“I’m not an expert,” Samantha says, over on Not Your Mother’s Playground. An excellent post, and an idea that I’ll probably explore further over on A Poly Life at some point in the future, but here, now, I want to illustrate the point much more graphically.
I’m not an expert, no matter what my occasional friends-seeking-relationship-or-poly-advice may think. Yeah, sometimes it looks easy, and sometimes (most times, truthfully) it is easy, these multiple, interconnecting relationships. But not always. Sometimes, it’s hard. And usually, when it’s hard it’s my fault, because I get jealous or insecure or feel I can’t compete. Sometimes, I am hateful and spiteful and nasty. (Okay, I’ll be truthful, those times are few and far between. That’s not much in my natural make-up. But it does happen, occasionally.) Sometimes I think mean thoughts about the people I care about. Sometimes I throw fits. Ad laughs about it when I do. He calls it my “stompyfeet.” Because, most times, it’s merely a fit of pique, a momentary loss of my equilibrium, a clouding of the senses brought on by my own insecure headspace.
Recently, during a scene with W, I had one of those moments. I call it my “Mad at Adam” scene.
To fully appreciate it, you have to see the scene in its entirety.
It started out as many late-summer days did at W’s. Relaxing out on the porch, having a drink, chatting.
This was back when we were seeing more of J, our sometime-girlfriend. (Not that we don’t see her now, just not like that, not like we’re dating really. In fact, we only see her now when she comes in to see the D/s couple she dates, and it’s mostly as friends. It’s interesting how relationships in poly networks ebb and flow. But that’s a subject for another blog as well.) Anyway, I had set the weekend up myself, trying to orchestrate it so that she and Ad would get some alone-time together, W and I would get some alone-time, and we’d all get some play time together during the weekend. On this day, I had arrived at W’s after work, I believe, and Ad and J were supposed to be meeting us there prior to us all meeting some friends for dinner that evening. A time had been arranged for them to meet us at W’s, and W decided to prepare a surprise for Ad: he put me into bondage and then affixed clothespins to me, telling me that I couldn’t get down or have the clothespins removed until they arrived. Because it was going to be fairly intense, he was careful to time it so that I would be able to endure it long enough. Also, it was a little tricksie because I was still having twinges in my arms, so the timing had to be right not to aggravate that, and he had to do something that I could handle without causing me unintentional pain. In fact what he originally wanted to do, a much showier tie, he wasn’t able to, because I couldn’t tolerate it.
They were supposed to arrive around 6:30. I figured that would give Ad time to get off work, for them to fool around, and then be able to get ready and be over in time for us to meet our friends. (Yes, I was deliberately scheduling nookie-time for them, good girlfriend that I am. 😉 I knew The Girl needed to get laid badly, and besides, they hadn’t seen each other for weeks, of course they needed time for sex!) But…I still expected them to be on time to meet us. Three hours was enough for anyone, right? And when they weren’t on time, well that’s when I started to get a little pissy.
Take into account too, though, that my physical predicament/discomfort hinged on them being timely.
W started applying clothespins at about 6:15.
He started slowly, just a few here and there, arms and inner thighs.
Somewhere around 6:30 he added a few more, and then more…and every time it got more intense. I started to watch the clock, both in anticipation of seeing J, who I hadn’t seen either, and of getting the clothespins off, of being able to shift my weight, of being able to dislodge that pole from between my legs, because it was at this point that W decided to lift the log higher, so that it became quite uncomfortable.
Still, I enjoy clothespins, it’s one of those weird pain things that translates into pleasure for me, and soon I was joking and laughing with W, even as he added more, telling me every time that the later they were, the worse it would be for me.
It had been a half hour by then, and I was beginning to get fatigued (we had done another scene just before this.) Things started to stack up, and as they did, my emotional state started to suffer too. Every minute that they were late was an eternity. And, yes, this is where I illustrate my point about not being an expert, about fucking up and thinking wrongheadedly: the fact that they were probably fucking,
enjoying each other’s company–instead of being on time to see me–was a specific source of my irritation. I resented the fact that they were more interested in each other–that Ad’s attention was on her–instead of on me. Here I was, waiting for them to arrive, and they couldn’t care less! Yeah, I can be a selfish bitch at times.
Finally, at 6:55, they arrived. And now, in writing this, I see that they were only 25 minutes late. Not that long, if things had been a little different. An eternity in my head at that time.
I wasn’t too nice. Ad leaned in to kiss me, and I threatened to bite his tongue off if he stuck it in my mouth. He’s such a bastard–he just laughed at me, then stood back and let me stew in my juices.
In the end, W decided that the proper solution to any mouthiness on my part was to gag me, and so they did, while Ad pulled off the clothespins, one by one. Soon I was blissed on endorphines and grinning and drooling around the gag, and besides I don’t stay mad long at the worst of times (and this was hardly that.)
And besides, it was all W’s fault, right? He’s the one that put me in the predicament in the first place!
But next time? I tell Ad to text me when they are actually on their way.