Sunday, October 31, 2010

Two minus one.

I know. It's been a while. Sorry, guys.

I stand on my balcony and sip green tea in the morning, a calico mewling around my ankles as I watch more red and golden leaves drop to the earth below amid a misty late October drizzle. I can smell the coming rain as I look toward the treetops ahead. In the parlour behind me, I can hear my cell make that tinkling noise it does when I'm receiving a textmessage, and for a moment I feel that familiar flash of excitement in the centre of my chest before I remind myself to relax and calm down, because it very probably isn't her.

It's been a challenging last several weeks. Sure, it's been difficult to get much writing done as I still work to replace my puter, and that has also meant that momentum here has slowed to a crawl.

Not that there hasn't been a lot worth writing about. In Toronto, we seem to have elected a new mayor who has a record of opposing funding for sex-positive events such as the annual Pride parade. There's been at least two tragic, major crime stories in the news here that, at least on some level, involve elements of kink. Sex workers here won a major legal victory on safety issues, yet the benefits of this nationwide decision remain held just out reach from them as the country renews its debate over sex worker presence to begin with. All stuff worth discussing with you-all.

But, you know, life happens. And that brings me to this post.

What began with strong potential over a pleasant Pelee Island blanc de blanc concluded recently over discussion with a bolder Australian malbec/shiraz. White to red, beginnings to endings. And we never did get to buy that 2009 bottle of something-Ontario to celebrate our Us, intended to be purchased online because that was how we had met. Pity. It was a fun idea.

Kara, the lithe and sexy math teacher I've been partners with for a little more than a year now, and I have moved toward a Just Friends relationship. We're done.

It's been a few weeks, and I admit to being disappointed, if not perhaps completely surprised. She did, after all, warn me early on that her relationships tend to be brief, but, you know...

But the fact is that while some of the awkwardness is still working itself out, we're both really doing ok. We get together on occasion. I still adore her kids. But she's in a space in her world where she needs to tread some paths on her own, or so she tells me. Me, my thoughts and feelings are mixed, but we both agree that while we love each other, we haven't been In Love with one another, and we seem to be at peace with this realization. And we don't want to lose one another as friends.

Or, at least, that seems to be the pulse so far.

Kara reintroduced me to a new appreciation for personal wellness. I introduced her to the world of positive kink play. She reminded me of how fantastic being around children can be. I like to think that I reminded her of how fantastic being personally intrepid can be.

And, for the record, I really enjoyed being with a teacher. It's a profession that I deeply admire. And I really enjoyed her healthy consciousness, her infectious laughter, her background, and yes, her delightfully spankable little ass. As I packed away her remaining items of clothing that had been kept in my pad, each shirt or sock or pair of sexy panties that I had happily, impulsively bought for her felt like one more step away.

And, yes, there are still hot stories that remain untold. The night of our anniversary, and Kara on her hands and knees, outside, on my balcony, as the lesbians downstairs tried their best not to listen. Will I share these sordid, fun stories? Perhaps. Not yet.

Being with Kara was also an interesting "lynchpin" place for me. For most of my life, my relationships have been consensually non-monogamous and polyamorous. While Kara and I discussed our thoughts about this early in our relationship, and while we agreed that monogamy wasn't necessarily for everybody, in practice that's what we essentially became. We wanted to nurture an Us-time, and often we talked about the process of what we were doing and how we liked each step.

So, in its aftermath, I find myself re-evaluating my stance. Am I enjoying a monogamous frame now? Will I return to an entirely poly lifestyle? ...I think, at this point, at this stage, I'm going to Wait And See. A lot will depend on whom I find myself seriously dating next... whenever that will be. I suppose this means I'm in an amiable, open place as I take stock of what I want. Self-reflection can never be a bad thing.

This blog has had an interesting dynamic. On one hand, it's about explicit sex, and when I write to get us off, I enjoy it very much. But it's also about relationships, dating, connections, at least from this sordid man's point of view. And when I'm at juncture such as this, it's challenging for me to know from one post to the next where I'm going to be coming from. Part of me dislikes being "back to the drawing board," because I do so love sharing my heart and spirit with a partner. Part of me likes being there because I do also enjoy the anticipation of whom might be the upcoming person in my future. It's a schizoid way of looking at it all, but in some weird interior space, it feels healthy.

I'm hoping to enjoy a long and fruitful friendship with this woman. As her lover, I'm going to miss caressing her wee faerie form in my bed. I'm going to miss feeling her shake and hearing her cry out as my tongue and hands coaxed her into bliss. I'm going to miss the warmth of her hips as I tugged her down and deeply onto me.

You are excellent people, Kara. I've enjoyed being your man, at least for a time. And thank you for every gift you brought into my world.

There is so much I never got to share with you. I will miss you.

Friday, October 1, 2010

Autumn fires.

I adore the autumn season. It makes me crave to be at a wooden lodge or cottage with my lover, a place where the crisp breeze will bask me in her scent as I hold her close. Her hair and the occasional twig from passing by a reddening tree as we strolled through the brush. The lingering allure of the previous night's campfire.

I want to hear the bubbling of a stream that's near the lodge when she turns around and tells me that the wind makes her cold. I will smirk as I draw her closer. Our boots will clatter on the aged floorboards as we pass the remnants of a meal of pheasant and wine and I draw her up the polished, golden pine stairwell. Those boots will be removed first.