Belinda just left. And I had some Abita in the fridge.

Best. Mardi gras. Ever.

Lorelei has lots of tests to grade and such tonight, so canceling appeared to be a foregone conclusion. Probably just as well.

I just hate disappointing people.

If your partner wants to have sex, and you’re not into it, for whatever reason, you might disappoint them, but that’s it. If your partner and your sometimes fuck buddy want to have a threesome, and you’re not into it, now you’re disappointing two people. Thus the dilemma in which I currently find myself, and why I agreed to have said threesome tonight, though I really don’t want to.

Now I’m suffering from the anxiety and overall sense of panic I have come to expect from myself in such situations. So I’m miserable, all because I don’t know how to say “no” to anyone except myself, and my whole week got progressively more fucked as it went on.

First of all, most of my plans this week have been blown to hell. Sunday, I was informed, anonymously, that I’m doing a shitty job at that particular gig. Monday, a friend was supposed to pick me up from work for drinks, but spaced on me, leaving me to take the bus home. Tuesday I got electrocuted via the microphone at rehearsal. Wednesday I had to remove a fucking bat from the house. Thursday the threesome was pushed back because of a lingering early period. Friday, same deal. Saturday, three different people bailed on us, leaving us drifting all day. And today, all I wanted to do was sit down, eat some food, and watch the fucking Super Bowl, but that plan’s moved, too. Yes, I’m complaining that I have to have sex. But you’re missing the point:  I need some sort of predictability this week, or I’m going to have a fucking heart attack.

That’s really all I have to say. Not really feeling the whole “compelling prose” thing today. Just me bitching. Sorry.

…in my living room. Back later.

I was informed tonight, while packing up my gear after rehearsal, that Belinda has requested our, um, services Thursday. It’s a nice little ego boost to have someone who, frankly, could probably find someone else to fuck, to want to come back. But that aside, I thought of this song. Enjoy.

Ladies & gentlemen, and those who identify as some other gender, last night, as I came home from an audition, I caught Lorelei with her face buried between another woman’s thighs.

Please, hold your applause until the end.

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I woke up this morning without an alarm. I got up, fed the dog, and sat and watched How It’s Made for a while until Lorelei woke up. We then traded porn links back and forth for a little bit before having sex. Great sex. Great “collapse and immediately pass out afterward” sex. I awoke some time later (I don’t know how long I was out), got dressed, and she dropped me off at the local pub on her way to work. I had a great lunch - burger on a pretzel bun with swiss cheese, bacon, and a fried egg, with a pint of Christmas Ale and a pint of Edmund Fitzgerald porter - went to a vintage guitar store, grabbed a mocha at the coffee shop across the street, and then walked home, listening to Old Crow Medicine Show. Now I’m sitting around the house loading up the mp3 player for our trip to visit family tomorrow.

I’m liking this general floaty buzz I’ve been maintaining all day.

Having sex before going to the therapist is kind of like taking an antihistamine before going to the allergist.

It skews the results.

Not that I would know anything about that.

First of all, I was all proud of how often I was updating, but now we’re back to being sporadic at best. Some of this is owing to the fact that, in the lead up to Thanksgiving, I was baking like a madman. I sold some cheesecakes! So far, just a plain, a (gluten-free) turtle, and two eggnog-pumpkin, but hey, they’re sales, and they’re helping add some income for Christmas. But damn, in my home kitchen, which is functional, but still somewhat small, those, along with the cakes I was making for family gatherings, took a hell of a lot of my time. I put a lot of love, effort, and creativity into my cheesecakes, and people who like them appreciate that. In fact, the buyers all claim my cheesecake beats Cheesecake Factory. I tend to agree.

But I didn’t come here to tell you that.

Lorelei, due to the Epic Sinus Infection From Hell™, had to take some fairly strong antibiotics - the kind that interfere with the efficacy of her IUD. Which means no vaginal ejaculation. Which is really bothering me. Now, of course, while this is going on, we are, at her suggestion, experimenting more with oral and anal, but I really miss just good, old-fashioned filling her dirty cunt with a hot load. You see, I’m really into fluid bonding, for several reasons, which I may someday write about, should I ever be able to clearly articulate them to myself - i.e. further self-examination is required. But not the least of these reasons is that I genuinely feel a connection to her, from a primal “marking my territory,” to a deeply emotional manifestation of trust and love.

It’s been a while (since sometime before Thanksgiving), in with how long it can take for the residual effects to wear off, it could be Christmas before we can safely swap fluids.

And it’s driving me crazy.

I find myself, during intercourse, constantly yelling at myself to stop, and sometimes I’m not sure if I’ll be able to. And I know she won’t. Neither of us are very good at knowing when to stop.

So, here I sit, feeling somewhat sexually frustrated, because I’m missing that connection. Well, and the best orgasms of my life. That’s another thing worth missing, right?

I don’t quite have the capacity or mental clarity to expound on this right now. It’s generally good, though, and has a lot to do with last night, and it’s implications for the future. This song sort of addresses some of my feelings on the subject.

The moment right before you realize you’re falling, you’re free. In that split-second before gravity - and reality - take over, you can do anything. But, oh, that moment when you realize you’re going to fall.

I’m reminded of something Townes Van Zandt once said:

I decided I was going to lean over until I… just to see what it felt like all the way up to approaching when you lost control and you would fall. And I realized that to do it, you know, I would have to fall. Like I just started leaning back really slow, really paying attention, and fell, you know. And I landed four stories down, flat on my back. I can remember the impact, exactly what it felt like.

And then, of course, Arthur Dent taught me the secret of flying is to throw yourself at the ground… and miss.

Maybe one of these days I’ll try my hand at flying.