Nine days in September

I spend all of my weekends with B, and put off blogging during the week. So now I find myself not having recorded any events of the past three weeks. (Except in my personal journal, thank goodness.)

Weekend of August 31st-September 3rd. B spent the weekend here, without planning it that way. It was definitely the longest we’d spent together to that point. We cooked and ate and went to the farmer’s market. We watched You.Tube recipe videos and checked out the walkscore and real estate in a city I talked about moving to. It was all stuff I would have done had I been alone, and that felt really good. (And half of it was his idea–I wasn’t the one who started the real estate search.) That Sunday we went and saw another musical. I’d planned to go with a girlfriend, but she called and canceled, after making sure B was able to go. So B went home to shower, change, and get the car. We were apart about two hours, and I love that he was so willing to go see another show with me. Monday we made pancakes at about noon, and then he dropped me off at a work meeting. If I hadn’t had a meeting, he probably would have stayed until Tuesday.

In the bedroom. First, I was on my period the whole time (finally!), and I thought I let him know that pretty clearly, but I’m not sure he got it. (It was waaay later than I’d told him I was expecting after all.) I figured he’d be able to feel my cloth pads if his hands wandered that way, but he didn’t seem to, and I had to stop things once. But dealing with my cycle while being around my boyfriend wasn’t too big a deal, even using cloth. At one point over that weekend he specifically asked me, “When?” And I said, “Soon.” We’ve joked about the meaning of ‘soon’ ever since. (In my head I was thinking, when my period is over.) He was scheduled for STI testing on Tuesday the 4th, so I edged closer to an actual day, “Well, it’ll probably take a week for the results…” It felt kinda crazy that by September 11th, nothing would be stopping me from having sex. Over that weekend, I tried using my hand with B a couple more times. (I really dislike the term ‘hand.job.’ Anyone have a term they like better?) I still haven’t figured out exactly what he needs me to do. We talked about rhythms. He tried to describe what he wanted, and it sounded to me like the opposite of what he’d said before, and I told him so. He asked me about my rhythms, and I tried to describe them. I even took his fingers and pressed them into my side and moved them. Which isn’t really what it’s like at all, of course, but at least I showed him that I was willing to talk about it and attempt to simulate it. Then I held up my finger and asked, “Can you show me on a really small substitute?” He put his hand around my finger and said, “This is really awkward and embarrassing.” “Really? How else am I supposed to understand what you mean?” So he showed me, just very quickly, and I said, “Woah, that’s complicated. I definitely need practice.” I feel a little bad about and frustrated by my continued ineptitude, but I know B wouldn’t want me to. We’re both being very patient and understanding about each other’s inexperience. B has only had one other partner, several years ago. And of course, everyone’s needs are different.

Weekend of September 7th-9th. The 7th was B’s birthday. I was super excited about it. I’d gotten him two small gifts and made reservations at a tea place for afternoon tea service. That might sound girly or weird, but B drinks tea every day, and he’d never been to this awesome tea cafe in our town. I made him heart-shaped brownies, and I sent him a birthday card in the mail as well (always fun to get mail on your birthday). The card arrived on time and he brought it over that day, still unopened. I’d written “I love you” in Russian in it, and I said, “Well, it’s in Russian, but it’s three words so you can guess what it says.” And he said, “I love you, too.” (This was only the second time, and it was again in response rather than coming from him first.) I said he didn’t have to say it just because I did, and he said something reassuring, although I don’t remember what.

One of the gifts I gave him was a little booklet I’d made from the “What I Like” list I’d emailed him in July. I’d been continuing the list, and I wrote one thing I like on each page of a tiny notebook. He said he would read a page every night. And there are many pages yet to be filled. =)

It was a beautiful day and I wore a dress to tea (I almost never wear dresses). The dress came off soon after we were home. =) It felt good to have my body back, free from all the pre-menstrual/menstrual stuff that seems to go on forever with me. I was just in underwear, which is the closest to completely unclothed I’d been so far. B kept his pants on for that. I felt like it would be too easy to get carried away with both of us in our underwear, especially when one of them has a built in fly! B’s STI test date had been moved from the 4th to the 11th, so things were pushed back again. B was so frustrated when he emailed me about it, and I thought the whole thing was kinda funny. B’s trying to be so patient, and his plans keep getting foiled. I mean, I want to, too, but I’ve waited this long. What’s another week or two?

Other bedroom stuff: That weekend, he put himself between my thighs. I had on underwear and boxers, but it still felt a little crazy to be so close, literally, to completing the act. He asked if I liked it, and I did. It felt intimate, a nice way to be close and to enjoy turning him on without doing the deed. I have finally experienced wet spots on my sheets and on my thigh. And it made me really happy–it was almost a little thrilling. Again, so personal and intimate and powerful. Later I showered and then got back into bed with just my towel on. We were slow about taking it off. It was B’s first foray into my unclothed nether regions. Just an introduction, a test run. We had begun referring to my clitoris as a stop on the London underground (Piccadilly Circus). My boxers are a map of the tube system, so we’d said how helpful it would be if I could just tell him what stop it is. So I moved his fingers to Piccadilly, but it’s certainly not obvious if you haven’t been there before. When he tried to find it on his own, he ended up on my urethra (an honest mistake). It’s no wonder that UTIs are a common issue for women, everything being to close together. It was certainly an interesting experience, me trying to explain and imagine things from his point of view. Awkward, sure, but more fun-awkward than embarrassing-awkward.

B has mentioned a couple times that I don’t say much or do much when he’s doing something. And it’s true that I use my arms/hands and kissing most of the time. I’ve tried moving with him, but it takes so much effort and concentration that it breaks the moment for me. I should probably let him know that. We talk about my CP sometimes, but I haven’t exactly given him a rundown of movements that are difficult or impossible. Also, the fact is, I haven’t been swept away by passion yet, so there hasn’t been any heavy breathing or “oh yeses.” I’m enjoying it. I like turning him on. But I’m pretty sure he hopes I’m being turned on more than I actually am. I haven’t said that outright either–that maybe I’m not responding much yet because I’m waiting for my body to respond before I can vocalize it/show it. I don’t want him to feel like he’s not doing a good job. Or something. I mean, I just want to continue to see how it goes, see if I’ll get there, before I say something like “You’re not turning me on as much as you think you are.” Because right now I think it’s mental. It’s me, not him, and I don’t want him to doubt or feel inadequate. It’s all very touchy, this intimacy thing. But altogether, quite a lovely weekend.

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A weekend in August

August 24th: B and I went to dinner and another musical. I was in charge of reading the directions and did so, but they were wrong, so we got off the freeway somewhere weird. We have a tendency to stay too long at the meal and then be rushing for the curtain (don’t end up budgeting enough for traffic, parking, etc.). I feel extremely stressed at being late, especially to something like a show. So this was a tense moment–I felt like it was my fault, sort of, and thought we should go back. B made his way there without the directions, me worrying all the way that we were just going to get more lost. It all worked out, and we didn’t snap at each other. Plus, I learned a good lesson about pre-printed directions (make sure the driver reads through them all the way beforehand).

I was still in pre-menstrual mode and I had to let B know that my breasts were too tender to be touched and that I was wearing a cloth liner. Not sure if he really knew what that meant, but I didn’t want him to be surprised if his hand wandered that way and felt something extra. He stayed over Friday night and at some point in the middle of the night we were both awake and making out. I had my second go at the art of manual stimulation. He really worried about my hand getting tired, and I said that that hand has had lots of practice doing something similar. Then I said something about it usually not taking me very long. All while my hand was still moving. He said he was enjoying it, and I said, “That’s good,” but later I wondered if he’d intended to say, “I’m enjoying it, but it’s not going to happen now,” or something. Eventually, when I asked him if I should stop he said yes.

August 25th. In the morning I said, “I need to retract something I said last night. About it not taking me very long? Well, it does sometimes, and I didn’t want you to expect…” And B said something like, “No, I know, that’s when it’s you.” I was relieved that he understood. Somewhere in our discussion, B started referring to the act as “making Baked Al.aska.” So I was saying things like, “I don’t know how it’ll be when it’s your turn in the kitchen.” =)

We went to the farmer’s market, and for the first time, I introduced B as my boyfriend (to my peach guy). B stayed all day. We ate goodies from the market, watched a French movie on Net.flix, and spent time in my room.

I stayed clothed, with my silly bra on (something thicker than I usually wear, which we began to refer to as my “‘don’t touch me’ bra”). After the events of Sunday and Wednesday I felt like I wanted to tell B that I love him. But it’s a big, scary thing to say. I kept thinking how we’d only officially been dating for a month. We were lying in bed being all smoochy, and I worked my way up to it. I kept sighing into his neck, and B kept saying, “Y-e-e-e-s?” Finally, I said it softly in Russian: Ya lyooblyoo tebya. Kind of whispering it to myself–maybe it’s easier if it isn’t in English. When I said it louder, B played along saying, “Really?” And I answered, “Yeah, pretty sure. Been thinking about it for a while.” Eventually, after more sighs and deep breaths, I said, “‘Ya lyooblyoo tebya’ means ‘I…love you’.” And he said quietly, “I love you too.” I paused and said, “That’s good.” (Suppressing “You do? Really?” and choosing to believe it.)

He stayed until 11pm that Saturday, and came over again on Tuesday night.

August 28th. When I got home from work Tuesday night, B brought over dinner and a (German) movie. The movie ended late, so we saved the mystery dessert he’d made for next time. We lay on the couch together and he asked me what I was thinking. I was thinking “I love you.” I like trying it out in my head. I told him I was thinking about us, about the passage of time. I often picture him on the day we met, still a stranger, and I can’t believe we’re here. I like that he asks me “what are you thinking?”, because of course I then get to ask it back, but without being the one who started it. He said he was thinking about us too.

‘What about us?’

‘Lots of things.’

‘What things?’

‘…..’

‘One thing?’ I find that B needs thinking time, and that if he doesn’t answer right away it usually means he’s still formulating his answer.

Finally he said, ‘The things we’ll do.’

‘Like, bedroom things?’ I ask. (That’s usually what he’s wondering about.)

‘No, like trips.’

‘Trips. Where to?’

‘I don’t know. I think about what it will be like to spend more than a day together, if we’ll be able to stand each other.’ (It was something to that effect anyway) ‘We haven’t fought or gotten annoyed with each other yet.’

‘We will.’

‘Maybe not.’ (Aw, sweet. But unrealistic.)

I told him how traveling is exhausting for me. How tired/cranky/bitchy I can get. He asked (more than once) what he should do if he annoys me. I tried to explain that if I’m annoyed, it wouldn’t be at him, but because I’m being cranky, and you can’t really talk yourself out of a bad mood. Sometimes I annoy myself because I know I’m in a bad mood, feeling childishly grumpy, and I know I just need time and space.

It was an interesting conversation. It felt like we’re still talking over and around things, still being a bit polite. But maybe that’s just because we like each other and it’s still new. We haven’t been faced with any rough stuff yet, and we’re trying our best to keep it that way.

I love that he’s imagining all the things we’ll do.