Jam formations.

I was already totally into her apparent ability to adapt and overcome to life's circumstances and her understanding of the same in others, her goals, her spirituality and how I see it resonated with her desire for laughter and positive manifestation. I could easily see how her love for interesting foods would coalesce beautifully with my love to cook. Her pictures on the dating site totally rocked my socks with her intense eyes, her freckles, her short and shining hair, and her womanly form.

But when I learned she was into competitive roller derby, I knew I'd get hooked.

Me, whose chest tightens over empowered, kickass women. Me, who smirked broadly when I read she was "really good at hitting women in fishnets."

Yeah, I've been dating. So has Rollergrrl, of course, and we've even talked about her desire to keep trying with a quasi-ex, Mr. Lucky, as she oh-so-struggles with apparently enjoying talking with me online, and recently, on the phone.

No, I haven't met her. And, no, I'm not really trying to jinx anything by writing about this growing acquaintance. But, thanks to our shared friend, she already knows about the blog, and she's already shared with me that it's turned her on.

(Hi. Are you reading this now? And are you smiling?)

I already knew that I could easily fall into Serious Like with this woman. And when our flirtations found themselves directed into her sharing of how she could easily enjoy seeing herself splayed across my lap for a sound, firm, over-the-knee bare-bottom spanking, well...

But you'll have to bear with me as I deliberately keep those details from you. I'm enjoying that as a between-Rollergrrl-and-I moment.

I'm writing this now because I want to leave a mark: yes, I'm dating again, and yes, it's entirely possible that future posts will involve experiences with other women than Rollergrrl. Like, of course they will. Like, again, I have yet to even physically meet her yet.

But I'm sensing a vibe here that I'm really enjoying. It isn't very often when my bones tell me that Something Could Really Be Good Here sight-unseen, based on first impressions. I'm not projecting, I'm not assuming anything, and for all I know right now we could end up only Just Friends. But I'm also enjoying that feeling of Possibility and Potential when my inbox shows a reply from her and when I hear her articulate, sensual voice on the phone. She seeking to manifest her desires in life; if I'm right, I think I could definitely enjoy perhaps being a part of them.

She's very yum.

I'm just sayin.

And now for something completely different.

Graduation Day.

Where to begin.

My puter complications continue, and that's one big reason why I haven't been posting that often lately. But it's also true that my head has been in bizarre space.

It's been about a month since I've gone into post-Kara living, and it's somewhat surreal. Finding her brand-spanking new profile on one of my favourite dating sites was interesting to be sure, but it didn't stop me from sending her real compliments. As friends, we haven't been getting together nearly as frequently as I think we've intended, but that's very probably more about our mutually crazy schedules too.

But one thing I've learned about myself in the past, and am living in again, is this seeming reluctance to share my path right after a relationship break. It's odd (and hardly conducive to decent blogging) but I think I do it out of some strange sense of respect for my previous partner. What's weird is that I don't seem to do this when I'm the primary one to end a relationship, but when I'm the recipient of that axe, and one might otherwise think that I'd be eager and gung-ho about posting about whom I've Been With since, as if I were subconsciously (or not) thumbing a nose to The (Insert Expletive) Who Left Me.

I guess I'm just not that petty.

I think I can live with that.

Is it weird for me to not blog about what I've been up to this month out of some latent desire to not, somehow, make Kara uncomfortable? She's a reader of the blog, after all. (Hi, hon.) Am I, in restricting myself, being a gentleman after some fashion, or am I holding out a candle for her? The mental gymnastics I go through.

Perhaps I'll feel better if I make some kind of caveat. Like this:

Kara? Hi, it's me.
You know, the guy who took you to your first playparties, you spanked your delightful little bum in public, and who gave you delicious head.
I'm sorry that we didn't play nearly as much as we wanted to.
I felt as though we were still just getting started,
and I'd been eager to tie you up more, see you in the corset we bought,
and do so much with you.
But, you know, for your own reasons, it ended. Yeah, I miss your company.
But, you know, you were dating a guy who writes a sex blog.
While our ending isn't the only reason it's been quiet here, it's true that I've been ambivalent about writing much because I like you, respect you,
and because I haven't wanted to sting you.
After all, for the year-plus we were together,
we were essentially monogamous.
You can safely say that you are the first person to have returned me to that zone for more than ten years. And I was actually starting to like it.
But, you know, maybe it wouldn't have stung.
I don't know, and I chose to err on the side of caution.
And, either way, it's been long enough now that I think I'm ready to be writing again. I still don't want it to sting you.
In the end, it's entirely up to you if you want to continue reading.
We're both adults here.
I'm going to move forward in my writing, my sharing, now.
Just know, and I hope you'll enjoy knowing, that I miss you,
your laugh,
and gripping your beautiful little ass as I take you hard from behind.
A lot.
Love you.

sigh
There.

Women and television.

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.

Women in costume.

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.