Pie + Bacon = LUV

Several weeks ago, I began chatting online with Spice. He's a 28 year old computer nerd and general geek- right up my alley! But Spice is different in a couple very important ways. For starters, he's also poly. He lives with his girlfriend, whose other significant other is often over. That's right- there are three levels of OSOs. Spice, his girlfriend, her other boyfriend, and that boyfriend's wife. My roommate calls it “the family tree,” which is as good a description as I've ever heard. The limbs branch out and intersect, without necessarily coming back in on each other.

So like I said, Spice lives with his girlfriend. They were once primary partners, meaning they were deeply involved with one another. Now, it seems that they are no less deeply committed, but the nature of their relationship has changed. You see, Spice got really sick several years ago. He eventually received a kidney transplant and got better, but there were some scary times which led to some realizations about both him and his girlfriend. In the end, they decided to still be together, but not in the same way. This means that Spice is in the unique position of already being in a dedicated poly relationship while still looking for a primary partner.

I knew all of this going into our date Friday night. Now, I've done a lot of long-distance online dating, and the first few weeks reminded me of that. Online relationships often lead to quick connections, since you can spend time talking deeply, but the danger is that you only know what they put forward online. Since I was enjoying talking to Spice so much, I was nervous that he wasn't going to live up to it in person. The only way to find out was to go out.

We met for sushi. If you're anything like me, eating sushi is rife with opportunities for low-level humor, of the “that's what she said” persuasion. Yes, I still enjoy “that's what she said” jokes. I'm not too proud to admit it! Even better, Spice does too. We spent the entire dinner talking and laughing and giggling at jokes. It was like we already knew each other; there was none of that first date awkwardness.

Halfway through dinner, he realized that we'd gone somewhere that didn't really have dessert. I'd prepared for that, though, and suggested we walk over to the nearby Trader Joe's and pick up a pie. I have to give credit for that idea to my awesome roommate. Her suggestion was that we eat it on the street somewhere, which sounds wonderfully romantic, but when we bought the pie I realized we didn't have anything to eat it with. So I invited him back to my house.

(A side-note: while at Trader Joe's, Spice needed to pick up a couple things. He explained that there isn't one convenient to him, so it made total sense. He grabbed coffee and buttermilk, but the awesome part was the bacon. He grabbed two packs of the applewood-smoked bacon. Then two more. Then two more. I was nearly rolling in the aisle! Don't worry, he saw the humor in it too.)

After eating the pie we sat together on the living room couch, with me curled up into him. No surprise, it shortly led to making out; it was glorious. I couldn't get enough of his lips. As I remarked to him at one point, it's a sad thing that after two people start sleeping together, they often stop just making out. It should be more than just a means to an end- it's worth enjoying just for what it is.

We did eventually head up to my bed, but nothing happened beyond more making out and a bit of foreplay. Is it still foreplay when it doesn't lead to more? He texted his girlfriend to let her know he was staying over, and we cuddled up to fall asleep.

Until about 4am. That time, it definitely was foreplay. We had to fumble around in the dark for a condom, but eventually everything was in place. Things were a little bumbling, as first times often are, but he was clearly concerned with making sure I was enjoying myself. I most definitely was.

I “enjoyed myself” again in the morning. This time, being able to see what we were doing and not half-asleep, it was even better. His hands were tender yet demanding as he held me; his skin was smooth yet firm to my lips.

We finally dragged ourselves down to breakfast. I was out of almost everything (I'm a master at putting off going to the grocery store), so we had pie and bacon. I loved it.

Spice and I have continued to talk online every day since then. I have to say, whereas I felt smothered by Isaiah, I anxiously await each conversation with Spice. We're going out again this week, so you can expect to see his name again.

Thursday- He Blows My...You Know

When I found out a band I like was playing downtown, I decided I was going to go, whether or not I had someone to go with. Just in case, though, I bought an extra ticket. When I offered it up to my friends and guys I'm dating, Mr. Dimple was the first to respond. That meant he won. A few hours later, though, I got an email from the Anarchist saying (half-jokingly) that he couldn't believe I didn't ask him, since I knew he liked that type of music. I told him he should still get his own ticket and then he could hang out with us.

Was that rude of me to Mr. Dimple? Quite possibly. I know some guys who are okay with polyamory in the abstract don't want to be confronted with it in the form of meeting the Other Significant Others. There was no way I was going to un-invite Mr. Dimple, though, and the Anarchist seemed so bummed that he didn't have anyone to go to the show with.

Mr. Dimple came over to my house a few hours before the show. We'd planned to go out to dinner, but hadn't decided where, when he told me that he was in a sort of foul mood and that a “really good hamburger” would help. I knew just the place- the bar/restaurant down the street from me. The food was good, the beer was cold, the waitress was hot- the perfect combination. It was already a great dinner, when the waitress asked if we wanted dessert. As she rattled off the list of possibilities, she ended with the “salted caramel cupcake, optional with or without bacon.”

She must have seen my eyes light up. I looked to Mr. Dimple for support, but he just laughed. “You want one,” she told me. “Salted caramel cupcake with bacon? Yes? Do it. You know you want to.” Now that is the kind of peer pressure I can get behind!

It was absolutely amazing. Sweet and savory and salty and greasy. The problem is, I now know there is such a delicious creature lurking just a few blocks away from my house.

When we got back to my place from dinner, I pointed out that my roommates were both gone. I seduced Mr. Dimple with the words, “I have condoms this time.” That was all it took.

Mr. Dimple likes to say that he hates the stereotype of Irish men having small penises (I'd never heard that as a stereotype, but okay.) I don't have the heart to tell him, though, that he doesn't exactly prove it wrong. Still, it's all in how you use it. The funnest (not funniest!) part is how long he orgasms. It goes on forever! By the end of it, I was giggling with the near absurdity of it. Most of his skill lies in the oral arts, though- and that's not a complaint. Every girl needs a guy who can blow her mind while he blows her....you know.

The show was great. Mr. Dimple and the Anarchist didn't really say anything to each other, but it didn't seem like either felt terribly awkward. I kept in mind that I was on a date with Mr. Dimple, though, so he was the one I showed affection to. My favorite part was when I (slightly drunkenly) tried to adjust my halter top. When I looked up, both of them did the quick eye-shift towards the ceiling. “You can look,” I told them, “you've both already seen them!”

Just like the last time he stayed the night, Mr. Dimple originally needed to get the car back to his girlfriend pretty early the next morning. In the middle of the show, though, she sent him a text. “I can take the train to work tomorrow,” it told him. “But she better be hot.” Now that is love!

He did spend the night, and since we weren't in a hurry when we got up the next morning, Mr. Dimple offered to make me breakfast. Scrambled eggs and toast- it's what I usually have, but it tastes even better when you have a cute guy making it for you. When he finally left in the late morning, my roommate pointed out that it was the latest a guy had ever stayed in the morning. The Dreamer used to have to get up ridiculously early for work, and last time Mr. Dimple was over he had to leave early, too. It's kind of nice to get an early start on the day, but sleeping in and having a lazy morning together definitely has its perks, too.

Saturday- Knock on Wood

Saturday night was the third date with Mr. Dimple. When he discovered I had a Saturday night free, he asked, “can I have it?” with no specific plans in mind. A few days before our date, though, we were discussing our mutual love for bad scary movies, and that's when it hit me. A bad horror movie marathon!

He was supposed to come over at 4, but he texted me that he was running a little late. Me being Ms. Practical, I asked him how late, and would I have enough time for a quick shower? He said yes, so I got in. Right as I turned the water off and stepped out of the shower to dry myself off, though, my phone buzzed with a new text. He was outside.

“Ahhh!!” I yelled to my roommates. “He's here and I'm not ready!” One was already planning to take the dog outside, so she went out to meet him while I got threw on clothes as quickly as I could.

The first order of business was to go to the liquor store to pick up refreshments for our marathon. (It doesn't hurt that I love any excuse to go perusing through the microbrew section.) We ended up with a bottle of red wine- the color of blood, after all!- and a bottle of a Flemish red ale called Duchesse de Bourgogne. Incredible beer, by the way; I absolutely recommend it. When we got back, I threw together a curry for dinner and we flirted while I got more and more tipsy. Then we decided it was time to watch some movies.

The first one we put in was the original House on Haunted Hill. It was terrible, but that was kind of the point. We spent most of the time making MST3K-type comments and laughing. I also spent a good amount of my brain cycles admiring how comfortable he felt to sit next to.

Next was The Brain that Wouldn't Die. Now that is a classic piece of American cinema, let me tell you! I was laughing so hard by the end that I thought I was going to trigger an asthma attack. My roommates came home from dinner at the end of it and were cracking up just watching us crack up. It was fantastic.

As the movie came to an end, I turned towards Mr. Dimple; almost as if he read my mind, he pulled me onto his lap and we began making out furiously. He has this way of applying just the right amount of pressure when he puts his arms around me- it feels strong and secure without being uncomfortable or squeezing too much.

When we finally came up for air, I reminded him that I had dessert in the kitchen. “I'd rather have you,” he replied. That was exactly the right thing to say. We picked up our wine glasses and empty bowl of popcorn, I turned out the lights, and we headed upstairs.

Things progressed from there. When it got to the point we were in our underwear with him on top of me, I remembered- I was out of condoms.

It was bound to happen. With all my bragging on here about how prepared I am, I'd forgotten to go to the store after using the last one.

“It's okay,” he told me, as he stripped off my thong and worked his way down my body. It was more than okay, that's for sure.

When we were starting to fall asleep, he pulled me close to the heat of his body. It was perfect.

He had to leave early the next morning to get his car back because his live-in girlfriend needed it. I offered to make him breakfast before he went, though, and we chatted over eggs and toast and tea. When he left, he wrapped me up again in his strong embrace. That, I can never get enough of.

Friday pt 1.5- Relationship Negotiations

Normally I try to keep events in this blog in chronological order, but I think it's important to resolve the ones left at the end of my last post.

The Blues Man and I kept texting throughout the weekend, mostly back to flirting and discussing random topics. He had promised to tell his girlfriend about what had happened between us, though, and I wasn't going to let him forget it. He texted me Tuesday afternoon saying that he'd done it.

From what I could piece together from his texts, she was understandably not very happy about it. I got the impression that she was feeling betrayed, even though they'd ostensibly agreed before that they were allowed to date other people. But being given theoretical permission and acting upon it are two very different creatures.

In the end she told him that we could date, but not have sex.

A few minutes after that text, I got another one from him asking if he could call. I was in an office full of our classmates, so I had to step out to talk. He said he was still discussing things with his girlfriend, and she wanted to know what “dating” meant. I very eloquently explained that to me, dating is “hanging out and having fun and stuff.” “You know to her that's going to mean sex,” he pointed out.

“If she says we can't have sex, we won't have sex,” I assured him. “But that doesn't mean I'm happy about it.” That's when I got on my polyamory soapbox.

I am all for guidelines of safety (e.g. no sex without a condom, no sex until you've both been tested, etc.). I even understand guidelines of comfort (e.g. I want to meet the other person, if you think things are getting serious between you and your Other Significant Other you have to tell me, if I have serious concerns about your OSO you have to give them honest consideration, etc.). What I don't understand are artificial limitations on what kinds of things can develop between two people. Those things can't be controlled.

So, let's look at examples.

Guy A, who you may recognize as the Linguist, is married and has 2 kids. He and his wife have an agreement that they can both date whoever they like. The only rule is that they are not allowed to date people who wish to break up their original relationship. If I started talking about him leaving his wife, for example, it is his responsibility to end things with me. That is totally fair, if you ask me.

Guy B, obviously the Blues Man, is in a long-term relationship with a woman. She agreed to allow him to date other people, but on the provision that he is not allowed to sleep with them. The reason she doesn't want him to sleep with anyone else is because she feels it would make that relationship as important to Guy B as his relationship with her is.

Now, Guy B's parameters are completely artificial. No rules can control what feelings develop between two people, and the decision to have sex should be made between the two of them as to its appropriateness and timing. I'm not saying the original partner shouldn't have some influence, but to have the complete decision-making power on this is absurd.

If you were an outside partner entering into a relationship with these men, which would you rather be in? The one where you're allowed to have an actual relationship that develops as it will, or the one where you have to constantly worry that you're breaking the rules set by his other partner? Or even worse, that the rules will change without you being able to have any input in them?

Now in this case, I'm really interested in dating the Blues Man. If I wasn't, I'd just say screw it, it's not worth it. I don't want to pretend that I'm fully okay with this, though, and I let him know it. If I have to operate within her rules to date him, I will. But this is definitely the exception for me, not the rule.

Friday pt 1- The Blues Man Falls from Grace

After staying up all night texting with the Blues Man, we decided to go out to breakfast. We live on opposite sites of town, so we met at a diner in the middle. That would have been a great idea, except that somehow we'd both forgotten it was Good Friday. Well actually, it's not surprising we'd forgotten, since neither of us is Catholic. But that's besides the point. The place was busy, but we still got a booth, sat down, and started talking.

Now, the Blues Man is Jewish, and it was during Passover. That meant no leavened bread for him. For those of you who don't know, leavened bread encompasses almost every type of bread there is- anything that's risen instead of being hard and flat like a cracker. So of course, I had to torture him by ordering banana pancakes. Mmm! When the waiter asked for the Blues Man's order, it was almost like a poorly written comedy sketch. “Cheese?” “No cheese.” “What kind of toast?” “No toast.”

Poor guy. Going to a diner during Passover must be like dying of thirst in the middle of the ocean.

We sat at that booth for three hours, talking about nothing and everything. We discussed religion, politics, gossip about our classmates- all those “taboo” topics that you're not supposed to touch. And surprisingly, we got along on almost all of them! It even turns out that we're studying different aspects of the same event!

Breakfast went so amazingly well that I jumped at the chance to continue it by going to his apartment to hang out. We ended up (no surprise) laying on his bed and making out while listening to music. It was a total throwback to high school, except for the part where you had to worry about your parents catching you. Ah, the joys of being an adult- ice cream for breakfast, pizza three times a week, and making out on your bed without fear of being in trouble. We're both huge flirts, though, so conversation quickly moved into doing something more than just making out.

After another couple hours of teasing, touching, and kissing, things started to progress. The Blues Man has a big, bushy, 1970s-style beard, which he had been telling me the night before is great for increasing certain, shall we say, pleasurable activities. I'm not going to insist that every man I date grow one, but I will admit, it added a nice dimension to things. You know how a bit of facial hair makes kissing more fun? Well apparently a lot of facial hair makes other types of kissing more fun, too.

I'm not ashamed to say that by this point, I was practically begging to get to the next step, but the Blues Man kept laughing and saying there was no rush. “True, but I still want it!” I told him. “I can't just give it all up without a fight,” he replied. A master at the teasing, this one.

I did finally get my way. It was great, except for the pillow talk afterwards. You see, he had failed to mention that he has a girlfriend.

I was pissed. Not only did he fail to tell me this before we hooked up, or even before we kissed, or even before he agreed to go on a date with me, when it would have been MOST important, he tried to play it off like it was no big deal. If she was on board with this kind of thing and I wasn't interested in actually dating him, just hooking up, I might not have minded so much. But I'd made it pretty clear from the start that I wasn't looking for just a friend with benefits.

The situation was made even worse by the fact that apparently his “lady-friend” didn't know that he was going to be dating anybody else. He said they'd recently had a conversation about them both being allowed to, but that he hadn't actually done it yet. And they hadn't broached the topic at all of sleeping with other people.

Understandably, the mood was shattered. I didn't stick around too much longer after that, and I started texting him on my way home. First and foremost, I said, he had to tell her what had happened. If she was okay with it, I'd love to keep seeing him, but I couldn't do it in secrecy. I truly believe that the only way to have a good relationship is to be completely upfront with everyone involved. That goes double when there are multiple partners in the picture. He agreed that he would, but I'll be honest, I wasn't sure.

I finally resorted to calling my best girl friend and asking what she thought. She told me that if he wasn't willing to tell his girlfriend what happened and to not do something like that again, he wasn't the kind of guy I want to date. She's absolutely right, of course. There's a fine line between polyamory and cheating, and it's crossed as soon as you enter into secrecy.