Hurt

Olek and I have been together close to two and a half years now. We've been through a lot in that time. I would even venture to say, if there were a way to graph our satisfaction with our relationship over time, it would be mostly positive.

But no meaningful long-term relationship is going to be entirely positive (yes I'm hand-waving here). There are things I do that bring him grief; and things he does that bring me grief. One in particular is especially troublesome.

Sometimes, he purposely tries to guilt me, make me feel bad about something.

Now, in most of my other relationships--probably all of them--this isn't a big deal. If someone's trying to hurt me, either there's been a misunderstanding, or that person is no longer worth my time. But when Olek says something like that, it hurts deep.

My first impulse is to ignore it. Because I know, academically, he doesn't really mean to hurt me, that he was just thoughtless and lashed out unthinkingly. But because I can't let any problem between us go unanalysed (for fear there is a worse problem), I'll keep thinking about it. I'll keep digging. And the amount of energy I put into it amplifies the hurt.

Then, I'll start self-berating. "Holy shit Charlie, you're so fragile, how are you even still alive?!"

That usually subsides quickly, but is replaced with wanting to hurt him back. Not to actually hurt him back, but thinking about it. "Well fuck you, maybe I'll just go have sex with Petro!"

I have to mention something here, because I don't think I've ever mentioned it before on this blog. I've come to believe that I am polyamorous by nature. By this, I mean: I can love more than one person at the same time. I don't believe that there is a "best" person out there for me. I don't believe that I ought to love someone intensely forever; the fact I love someone now is enough, and though I may not love them as much in the future, that does not diminish my love for them now.

However, Olek is pretty strictly monogamous. We've talked semi-seriously about having threesomes with another woman, but Olek says such an arrangement would have to be either so casual as to be dismissive of the third person, or she would have to be a paid escort.

I've mentioned Petro before, but I don't think I've ever named him until now. Petro is a suitable name, I think; I used to think he was made of stone. And one day I will have to post about our encounters.

Back to the story at hand...

So I'll think to myself how I should hurt Olek back for hurting me. There are many reasons why I wouldn't actually go and have sex with Petro, but the one that's important to this story is: I would absolutely hate to hurt Olek.

Then, the fear of hurting him begins to set in.

For me, the greatest hurt typically comes from being lied to, being tricked. And so I would hate, for example, to trick Olek into thinking I'm monogamous. I would absolutely hate for him to go about thinking I could be satisfied with monogamy if the fact were that I just couldn't. I am deathly afraid that I will be fundamentally unsatisfied with monogamy, and that I won't find out until Olek and I are married (or something), and that it will crush him.

I've been hurt by someone who didn't know enough about himself to know what he wanted. Actually, that's a little unfair to say. JM both actively withheld truth from me (and told lies), as well as told me untrue things simply because he didn't know the truth. But imagine asking your partner, "Why do you love me?" and getting back, "Oh, probably for these reasons."  I'd have preferred, "This question caught me by surprise and I'd like to take the time to find you an answer that respects the depth of your question rather than say the first thing that comes to mind" but hey maybe I'm weird that way.  (I'm being facetious; I think that is a good preference to have, though it may be unlikely to happen!)


...post abandonned

Olek: two years

Olek and I will be celebrating our second anniversary this month. We came together under very unorthodox conditions, as you may recall.

I went to his place tonight, to bake goodies to give to family.  He's had a cough for about a week and I just got smacked with tonsilitis again recently; and we have an intense final exam coming up soon (neither of us is prepared!).  But it was so good to get away from most of those stresses, even if for just a few hours.  I love that we can do this; that we can be together and actively enjoy being together.

To give some more context, I've had the worst two months of my life yet.  Family problems, physical ailments and injuries, stress from school, having to miss work and not making as much money...  Had a few pretty scary panic attacks along the way, too; almost got to the point of convincing myself to end it all.  Almost.

And still I can let myself be myself--actively be myself--and enjoy Olek's company.

When we'd finished baking, cleaning and packing everything up, we went to cuddle in his room.  We hadn't see each other in days--we usually see each other at least five days a week--and wanted to just enjoy being together, not necessarily sexually.

A year ago, we would have battled our lust awkwardly, never quite taking one side or the other, teasing each other, followed by regretting it slightly; teasing some more, wanting to undo it.  It wasn't damaging, just awkward.  And yet, today, we just let it progress, slowly, but there was no awkwardness.

We lay together, still clothed, our bodies pressed up against each other.  Our fingertips touched one another's face, caressing softly, both feeling our self and the other.  I kissed along his neck, giving him goosebumps; a long, wet lick up the side, followed by small nibbles and more kisses.  I held his arms down while I continued, gently; always feeling his responses to my touch as I nibbled his neck and pulled on his hair.

"If you had a cock, I would love to suck on it," he said breathily.  I moaned into his ear, licking.

"Can I lick your breasts?" he asked.

I sat up and removed my shirt.  His hands slid up my thighs, my torso, unclasping my bra and removing it.  Gently, he rolled me onto my back and pressed my breast into his mouth, sucking.  I love the way he licks my nipples: soft and flickering, but ravenous, with a hunger.

"One day," I managed between breaths, "I want--"  I lost my focus, temporarily overwhelmed.

"Yes?" he asked wickedly between mouthfuls.

"I want--I want you to tie and hold me down while you lick my nipples."  Not a secret between us.

We came to a natural end--sometimes my nipples just get too sensitive to receive any more pleasure.  We talked about taking turns being tied down while the other sucked on nipples or cock.  I moaned appreciatively.  He lightly slapped my bum.


It surprises me sometimes how far we've come and what we've incorporated into our intimacy: hair-pulling, nibblings, spanking, a little bondage and not-quite-flogging.  I don't think we're a "kinky couple", but I love that we can express ourselves with these actions--they're not taboo, they're not necessarily scandalous or dirty.

Some kisses make me feel like a special princess.  Some kisses make me want to thrust my nipples into his mouth.  Some kisses make me want to bend over and take it.  Some kisses do a combination of the above, and some kisses do something else entirely!

Similarly, sometimes a little spank makes me feel special; or sexy; or naughty; or empowered; or "on the receiving end".  If I hadn't experienced it, I might think that spanking can make only one kind of reaction ("You're naughty! *spank!*").  But for me and Olek, it's another tool for expressing ourselves.  And after two years, it's a lot less awkward than when we first started!  We're only getting better and better at communicating and expressing ourselves to each other.

Andre - Part One

I promised before that I'd write about Andre. It's a bit of a long story, and there's no definite end other than the fact I haven't seen him since this past summer.

A lot of this is stitched together from fragments of memories and what I recorded in my journals. Some of the timeline is confused. Some details are added in retrospect, some details have been forgotten. This is an exercise I try to perform with myself every year, remembering that summer in all its beauty...


We met in Kingston, ON in July 2009. At that time, I was still "with" JM, a boy I'd met on the bus to university.

Quick summary: About four days before I left for Kingston, JM and I made out in a bathroom, and then decided we liked each other enough to try to keep in touch while I was away for the next four months. We agreed to "keep things open" though, considering how little we knew about each other and how unfair it would be to claim we were "in a relationship". The first weekend into my course, most of our course went out drinking. GK, a man from our course, danced with me, and then started kissing me. I wasn't sure where I wanted to go with that, so I stopped. About a month later, I went drinking with some Reg Force guys. CV, a Reg Force line tech, and I shared a cab back to shacks. He walked me to my room to make sure I'd be allright. And somehow we ended up on the bed and he was licking my nipples. He wasn't doing a good job, so I flipped him over and showed him how it's done. By that point I had sobered up a little, and gently convinced him to leave.

This brings us to mid-late July.

My father had taken ill. Mom called me on the weekend to tell me. My roommate saw me shoving my face into a towel, trying not to let Mom know I was crying. It was bad. Dad had some kind of infection and his body was so deep in shock that he lost his vision. The doctors had given him a "50/50" chance after looking him over. They didn't know what was wrong, they suspected a blood infection.

I went home for a week to visit him.

While I was at home, I took the opportunity to visit JM as well. We were both virgins at penetrative sex. (I had touched a penis (sexually) twice in my life and he had received a blowjob once.) We went to his place and I told him I wanted to have penetrative sex. He asked if I was sure, I confirmed, and he went to fetch a condom. When he returned, he was limp, and despite all efforts, we couldn't get him stiff enough to even get the condom on. We shrugged it off. In retrospect, it was the best thing that could have happened (but more on that later).

My father got slightly better, and I returned to Kingston to complete my course.

While I had been away, another course arrived. And on this course was a man named Andre. He looked to be, at least in his thirties. His smile was young, but the lines, the greying hair, and the sadness you could sometimes see on his face or in his eyes, it all contradicted with his seemingly youthful attitude to life. He struck me as a man who had experienced "the finer things of life" and decided he wanted it simple afterall.

As it happened, I wasn't far off. He was thirty-nine that year (as a Gemini, he'd already had his birthday by then), and used to be a salesman. I wouldn't find out until later, but he had been a very successful salesman and had enjoyed wealth and the experiences it availed; staying in luxury hotels and ordering any dish on the merest whim... But he got sick of the lifestyle, quit his job and joined the Army. I'd also find out, he had three children.

But none of this mattered, partly because I didn't know at the time, and partly because it just didn't matter anyway. Well, to be honest, I was curious about his age, so I stole a glance at his military ID.

He introduced himself to me when I returned to Kingston.

"I don't think we've met."
"I'm Charlie."
"Well Charlie, I'm Andre."
"Hi Andre."

It was bewildering to me at the time why someone would introduce himself that way. I was flattered but confused at the structure and....forwardness.

Thinking back now, I can barely remember how we got to know each other in those early days...

One weekend, we went to see the Kingston Symphony Orchestra perform Tchaikovsky's 1812 Overture at Fort Henry (which I thought was extremely poetic).

Andre drove a European SUV: leather upholstery, sunroof, digitally controlled seats you could move by pushing buttons... I'm not a "car-person", but feeling that engine was one of the most exhilarating+luxurious+empowering things I'd ever felt. Plus, he was a decent driver, though he'd be a jerk sometimes and speed up just so someone couldn't pass him.

We took photos around Fort Henry. I enjoyed making canon-penis poses. At one point, I got dizzy looking down a flight of stairs. Andre offered me his hand.

The orchestra played. It was beautiful. And there were cannons and fireworks, and it was brilliant.

Andre loved it so much, he also went the second night. Back at shacks, I didn't know where he'd gone. I think I might have known he was going again and maybe was under the impression he wanted to take me again. Whatever it was, I wanted to get a hold of him, so I wrote him a note and stuck it to his room door. It had my phone number.

My roommate, since she lived nearby, had gone home for the weekend. Later that night, Andre came by my room.

"I knew you'd write me a note. Well, that's not true--I had hoped. I had really, really hoped you would write me a note today." We talked briefly. I don't remember anymore. Somewhere in there, I may have mentioned I like giving and receiving back rubs, but a lot of people seem to think it's strange to do that with a stranger or even acquaintance, so I have nobody to receive from. Andre said he'd be fine with that.

One night, a bunch of us went to a pub to hang out. We talked and talked and talked. We came back to shacks and talked. Finally, we got sleepy and began leaving. Andre said, "Goodnight, sweetheart."

Some nights later, a bunch of us went drinking. It was the night that started everything in motion.

It was a mess trying to find a good place to drink, but we did, and eventually Andre and I cabbed back to shacks. He asked if it was "backrub time", so I obliged and spread a sheet over a spare bed. He lay himself down and I started on his upper back. Somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared and I didn't fight it except to say it would be rough without oil (I didn't have any).

Then he started playing with my feet, giving them a little massage at the same time. Eventually he rolled onto his back and we just started talking, trailing our hands over eachother a little.

He told me he had liked me from the instant he saw me, that it was magnetic, he was drawn to me. I had gained a lot of his respect very quickly, which was very strange because he is often skeptical of people and others often have to do something extraordinary to earn that level of respect from him.

He also wondered why I "chose" him--reminding me of PMK from my BMQ/SQ. What about him made this--snuggling--allowable to me?

Andre said he'd been single for a long time, because he's very picky and doesn't want a girl whom he can just pick up at a bar--he doesn't want sex, and if sex is so easy, there's almost no point. He doesn't think he could sleep with a perfect stranger. I half-agreed, telling him a little about my history...

We continued laying, skimming our hands across eachother and chatting. I mentioned again that in my head is a remnant of the "shy fat girl" personality from earlier years. He then went on to extol my virtues, including that I'm smart and attractive. I laughed only a little. He gave me such praise, it was so painful: "I am so lucky. The luckiest man in the world could not ask for what you are willing to give me",  "You're an angel",  "You're a doll."

I brought up--it was on topic but I can't remember now why--how I thought penises are gross. I lied a little though: my curiosity was beginning to at least equal and perhaps surpass my repulsion, for most things; I exaggerated how much they freaked me out. He posed a question to me: "So if I were to place your hand here on my pants, what would you do?"

Initially, I didn't understand. "I'd probably punch you in the face and throw you out of my room."

He laughed. He meant in a mutually permissive and exploratory way. I told him I didn't want to find out that night. I was thinking about JM.

We snuggled a lot. He took off my bra from under my shirt. I refused at first to let him kiss me, but then allowed him to kiss me so long as he understood I would never kiss him in return. He would try to touch my breasts and I would deny him. "It'd be worth it, breaking my thumbs, for just a touch."

We found a position where we'd support the other's head with the arm closest to the other.

"I'd rather use the strength from lifting my head to instead lift yours."
"I like that," I said.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked. I paused.
"I could become comfortable," I replied.
"You mean it?" He sounded eager.
"Wait, what?" I was confused. "What do you mean?"

Somewhere in that confusion, I explained, "I have someone back home. Now, you and I can either have something entirely physical and that would be the end of it, or continue as close friends." He said he'd much rather take the friends part.

"We're being intimate right now, not necessarily sexual. ... Last night, after I said goodbye, I went back to my room and just lay there, thinking I should go back. But then I thought, if I went back and knocked on your door, you'd ask, 'What do you want?' And I wouldn't know how to reply. 'To spend more time with you'? 'To be in your company'? 'To get to know you better', 'to just hang out with you'? I just didn't have an answer."

We continued until we both drifted off. We slept in the same bed with one sheet and one blanket.

He'd snore, though; and I'd freak out lest someone hear us and suspect a man in my room. I woke a few times: 0600, then 0700, then someone's alarm went off and I started. Around 0730 we both woke up ("I love waking next to you, feeling your warmth, your skin, your muscles") and started touching eachother some more. It got sexual fast, I guess that happens easily in the morning. He made his way to my breasts, my nipples, started sucking on them, using his tongue to circle around them. He tried his teeth a few times, but I'd recoil, and he got the idea. I'd wrapped a leg around him, and he had a thigh between my legs, which I started grinding into. Then he shifted so that he was pressing his crotch into my thigh.

I could feel him getting hard through his pants when he pressed into me. He started moaning, said, "Oh yes" a few times and--I'm not sure if he came. I didn't feel a wet spot, I think, but he was wearing pants... I just remember his hips bucking slightly, his grip tightening, I think I heard him say "Oh god", then he slowed down, then took a few moments to himself and went back to work on my nipples.

I showed him my preferred technique, which unfortunately ended up burning out my left nipple for a while. We cooled off, laying with eachother, calming down and regaining ourselves.

Then he realised he had to take a leak, but it wouldn't make sense for him to come back to my room after--too risky. We parted ways and he called me Sweetheart again.



JM and I fought over this. I found it stupid, considering we agreed to keep things open. Had I been honest with myself, I would have admitted that I didn't like GK or CV and that's why I didn't continue with them. But I liked Andre. He was a gentleman, he didn't take and he was always..... curious, gauging my responses. He made me feel like he was listening to everything.

At the time I was undecided, but now I just hate the way JM would rush in like he knew everything about how I wanted to be touched all the time. I hated it.

I told JM I didn't want to lose him over Andre, but that I needed companionship out here. It's very hard to not have any friends in a strange city. (I would later realise AB had been a friend to me, and we would become better friends... And then I would become angry at her because of just one little trait that pissed me right the fuck off. And then we'd be good again.)

I don't think I can fully explain what it's like. I'm sure someone would be able to explain it, but I think it's extremely difficult, partly because what happens is...your perceptions change, and you begin to take things for granted, and because of that, you don't think it's worth mentioning those details. I don't think I could catalogue for you all the assumptions and biases and expectations I've developed from being on course.

In any case, I told JM I wasn't about to ditch this amazing relationship with Andre just for him. I agreed not to pursue "intimacy" with Andre again. But that would prove impossible...

Catching up

A lot has happened since my last post. For starters...

• finished my training in Kingston, ON
  
• broke up with JM, got back together, broke up, got back together, and finally in December 2009 broke up for the last time.
  
• met Olek in Calculus, started seeing each other casually, then as we got to know each other through the next few months, fell in love. It's a long and complicated story for me to tell. Maybe in another post. But together we're now the happiest we've ever been.
  
• got a job at a Tim Hortons working overnights, until I can go to Kingston again in July
  
• ...

post from 3 June 2010
Feet

Summer of 2009, I went to Kingston, Ontario for my Apprenticeship training as a Signals Operator. It was four months of good, hard work. Towards the beginning of the last month, we had a short navigation exercise in place of our usual ruck march. I had two teammates, JP from Alberta and PE from PEI (strangely). One person would be the Radio person, carrying the radio, making radio checks, that sort of thing. Another would be the Navigator, leading the rest of us. And the last person was deemed the Safety person, making sure everyone got water/shade.

The Radio person would carry the radio in their rucksack. To make things easier, we swapped rucksacks.

Now, PE is a pretty humble (maybe even simple) but strong/convicted person. If something makes sense to him, it's sort of absolute in his mind. If it doesn't make sense, it doesn't really matter, so long as he knows what to do. I think we decided to put the radio into JP's or my ruck. We had three rucks: Radio, EP's and Spare (either mine or JP's, I can't remember). To switch up the roles, we would just switch rucks.

For one branch, I carried EP's, and it was entirely too heavy. I know mine was just a hair under the requirement of, I think, 11kg. I can't guess how heavy his ruck was, but 11kg was just right for me, being a rather petite Chinese girl. His was too heavy for me, and that should have been the end of discussion right there. I should have demanded we switch the radio, but I didn't. However, partway through the route, I asked to take a break.

I think JP was navigating at the time. He said no, so that we could make good time. I then asked if we could walk slower. Again, he said no. And since I didn't draw the line earlier, I should have drawn it there. But there's something about the military attitude that tells you anything less is weakness and weakness doesn't belong.

I don't know why. Nobody takes me seriously. Maybe I trust too easily.

So we continued, and I fell behind. JP and PE would stop periodically and encourage me to hurry up.

After the navigation exercise was the Battle Fitness Test (13km ruck march in 2hr 26min wearing 24.5kg; then fireman-carry a soldier of similar height/weight for 100m in 60s; then shovel out a box of gravel into another box [roughly 2m by 1m and less than 1m deep] in 6min).

Aside
I just finished reading this blog entry about a navy PO doing a BFT.

"The pain to an extent, the mental discipline of ignoring the pain, the running, the walking, countering the increasing desire to quit, counting breaths, were all variable within my realm of control. Leg spasms and Charlie-horses, however, were outside of that realm of control and threatened to ruin everything."

That's something I can really appreciate. It's not just the physical exertion, but the mental exertion to block out the pain and keep going and refusing to quit. I've done two BFTs in my life so I can't tell you if it gets harder or easier.

And after the BFT was the 2-week field training exercise (FTX).

That was the hardest month of my life, physically. And I wasn't sure how my relationship with JM would survive. (There's another story for another day, the story of Andre, a man I met in Kingston. Thinking about him and how he'd impacted my life helped me through that month.)

I managed to get to the base hospital once after the FTX and spoke with a nurse of sorts. She told me I had a "metatarsal drop". Basically, there's an arch where our toes join our feet, sort of like the undersides of our knuckles on our hands. And that arch is what absorbs impact first when our feet touch the ground. But for my left foot, one of those toe bones had fallen out of the arch, so that now, all that impact would go on that one knuckle-joint. She asked how old I was, and then recommended I get out of the military. I wanted to scream.

Fortunately, she did give me some spongy cushions to put in my shoes. It might help, she said. Maybe.

Thankfully, they worked, though they were so awkward to use, that I only wore them every second day, and that worked out fine in Kingston.

After




post from 7 Feb 2010
Math

I feel like I'm going through a sort of second adolescence.

When I was a teenager growing up, I was trying to figure out who I was. Now, I have a clearer idea of who I am, but I'm not so sure where I will fit into society.

I guess this started a few days ago when I went to talk to a program advisor on campus. I thought I was taking the correct courses, but turns out I'm not. So I'll have to change my program, maybe. If I'm lucky, they'll let me use my current courses.

I talked to a Math Advisor, who happened to be my Multivariable Calc professor! I told him I'm not certain what I like to do with Math or where even I could be employed in the future.

(I must pause for a moment to address this: In my mind, it seems very clear that I'm going to marry Olek, he'll be an Actuary and I'll be--whatever I'll be--so he can ring in all that money and I could potentially be a career housewife. It's an interesting image to have so clear in my mind...)

As I was talking to my prof, I mentioned that I love Math but don't terribly enjoy working with numbers. He remarked that it wasn't so uncommon as those who love literature but dislike spelling. I said I might have been interested in going into either Academia or Pure Math, except that I'd need to be much better at it. And then he said something that sobered me up:

"If you're the kind of person who wakes up with a problem you came up with that night, and decides to spend all day solving it, and enjoy every moment of it, then maybe Academia is for you. But then you're competing with hundreds of people just like that, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you move onto Graduate Studies, and you'll have to be the best of those. Then you go to find employment and--do you see where I'm going with this?"

I may have the love of math, but I don't have this competitiveness.

I've also had to come to terms with an unusual presupposition I've had. I've had to finally realise that I am, in fact, not a prodigy. I'm not specially gifted at any one thing. Instead, I am somewhat gifted in several areas.


Dad told me a Chinese fable. Here's what I recall from it:

One cannot look at two things and see both clearly.

One cannot listen to two things and hear both clearly.

In the animal kingdom, there is an animal [a lizard, I think] with no talents except one. He cannot run or jump or swim, but he can fly. Yet, in the animal kingdom, there is an animal with five talents. He thinks he is so smart, that when a predator comes, he can do any of these five things to get away. Yet when the predator comes, he cannot decide quickly enough and is eaten anyway. But the other animal, the one that is so dumb that he can only do one thing, when the predator comes for him, he does the one thing he knows how to do and flies away.

I get the point.

I think I'll go into education. It's a humble profession, but I'm not a terribly humble person. I always want to teach everything--I want to tell everyone everything... I always assume everyone wants to know the things I know. But that isn't always so, and I gotta learn that.

Though I might just work consultation... Or any odd-job, really...

"People who are good at math are often good problem-solvers. And some employers just look for that," my prof had said, "not just at the degree."

I wouldn't just be doing math at my job... My prof said that there's a shortage of science teachers... I wonder if I can fill that role...

For Education, I'd need two "teachable" subjects... Math and...?
Comp Sci (I already have some credits...)
Physics (that would be a BITCH to get a degree in...)
Art (if there's no one else)
Music (if there's no one else)
English (a degree I really don't want to have to get)



So, now to think who I'll be to the world...


It's so strange--I mean, I'm so young... And I've found someone whom I want to be in my life--the rest of my life... I want to make him waffles for breakfast, exchange kisses on our way to work, eat last night's leftovers for lunch, come home to each other, make dinner together, exchange stories about how our respective days went, eat together, maybe have a drink and relax and fall asleep together.

...post abandoned

Tease

Dom and Sub

So now that I've been spending more time with JM, who likes to make known he likes to be in control--also in bed--I've been wondering about "tops and bottoms" or "subs and doms".

I have a general idea in my head of dominatrixes whipping their submissive partners, and both getting off from their respective roles. But I'm wondering more broadly about "tops" and "bottoms". The more I think about it, the more intricate it seems.

Here's my thinking so far: tops need bottoms more than bottoms need tops, and this actually gives the bottom more power overall.

Even from the standpoint of single masturbation while the other's gone... Top can only imagine doing things to Bottom, who isn't there, so Top can't really get off on that. But Bottom can do things to hirself and imagine it's Top doing it--it doesn't really matter WHO is dominating Bottom, even if it's Bottom's imagination.


Me and JM

(Actually, I really should be explaining Me and SW first, but this will work, too)

So JM is SW's friend, but I'd actually met JM before knowing that! We were on the same bus one day and started chatting. It was great.

Now that we know eachother better, we've been hanging out more. He came to my going away party (I'll have to blog about that later) where we all got buzzed at my place later, and we're all flirty drunks so that was interesting (two mostly-straight guys, a bi girl and a gay man... Hoo boy). So JM and I flirted with eachother--a lot. It was a bit funny to see him restrain himself though: he'd start to say something, then stop and tell himself not to. Hehe.

I showed everyone around my house and we hung around in my room because it's in the basement and my folks were sleeping upstairs. Then I brought out my (brothers') complete collection of the original "Transformers" comic books. JM took a moment, blushed and looked away, then said, "I'm sorry--drinking makes me... um..." "Emotional?" MB suggested. "No, um, horny actually," JM finished. Hah! Awesome.

By the end of the night, JM was apparently very horny and trying his best not to make a fool of himself. It was great. And we decided we'd have to see eachother again before I'd left.

We got together last night.

We went to a Burger King and he got me a bacon double cheeseburger (in repayment for the last time, when I paid) and we chatted. For some reason, I ended up blathering on about my first and second boyfriends and how destructive they were to me. I dunno why I started talking about all that.

Somewhere in there, I bought bus tickets, and he saw a Cosmo magazine and decided it was a good way to change the theme of our conversations that night.

"'Fifty dirty-licious fantasies your guy has' [or something]" he quoted. After a moment to size me up, he offered, "Want to know mine?" Then, "Haha, no, I'm just kidding."

I took myself a moment to size him up and said, "Not in public."

So later, when we were out of the store, we chatted/flirted some more. At one point, there was some dog shit on the sidewalk and I walked very deliberately around it, then giggled at how huge/thick it was and how big a dog it must've been to create it.

"Fido's pretty big," JM said.

I looked his pants up and down. "Apparently!" It took him a while, but he laughed.

We got to a bus shelter and waited for the 11.

"So, now that we're out of the public, what are your 'dirty-licious' fantasies?"

"Oh, you're bold," he said somewhat to himself. I guess I like that recognition. He does that a lot--talks about me to me--and I think I like it.

"Well, you offered," I said under my breath.

"Well, I like to be in control. And public places--not getting caught, but the risk of getting caught, like if we were doing in the bush or behind a curtain. ... How about you?"

Now that I think of it, I do have a "fantasy" that would have gotten him stiff/er. But I couldn't think of any at the time.

"But I do have a weird relationship with pain," I conceded, and went to describe it.

After a while, he reflected, "I think I like that--not that I myself would get off on pain, but I think I like the idea of someone else..."

We continued flirting after we got off the bus and waited for our home buses. I think he was starting to get stiff, and I was definitely aroused. We talked about cougars (aka: cradle robbers) and long hair (I told him about how long mine used to be, and that it was very smooth and thick and how I loved the cool feel of it on my skin--"Damn, thanks for that," he said).

"Damn you're a tease," he said, "but it's okay, I like it."

He went on to tell me about this girl who used to tease him so much that one day, in the middle of a shopping mall, he started whispering in her ear for about five minutes, telling her all the things that she made him want to do. Not that it made it awkward, but just, "Damn, now that I'm horny, I want release. You bastard!" Haha!

We spent the next twenty minutes teasing eachother so bad. We're so cruel.


Me

I used to think I'd be a top. In fact, I still think I'm a top at heart. But I think I'd also enjoy being a bottom for things like orgasm control. I love being teased. But I also love teasing. I dunno. It'd be interesting, being with JM.


But right now, this keyboard is really bugging me so I'm gonna stop this post here.

--Charlie

Army Crush and Thoughts

So, Charlie has an "army crush".

He just happens to be two years older than me, too. But I... I don't know what to make of anything, of any of him.

Well I'll start with the superficial first. He's damn hot, and he has an accent, and he's "crazy" (there's some story about how, after having stepped on a nail, he dug it out with a knife rather than go to the hospital) and has at least one eccentric hobby (it involves a wheel).

What's under that? I have no clue. There's something.....strange, or different at least. He did a tour and came back. That in itself is gold. He told me once that he had hoped it would change him, that he would win huge medals or awards or make the news or at least come home in a box. But, no, nothing has changed, except maybe he's a little disappointed now.


We talked a little tonight. He makes idle conversation, and he seems to be aware of chivalry (let the girl win the first game when you're playing pool; open doors for others; let others through first in a narrowing, things like that).

Then he told me something strange: He likes to "mindfuck" with people--to tell them insane batshit crazy stories, because they'll believe them. Like, when he was overseas, all he did was eat Pop Tarts, but people don't want that, they want to hear outrageous war stories, so he'll make them up for them.

He also said I need to drink--at very least, have a drink in my hand to show "support" for those who do drink, or show that I'm one of them, something like that. He said to get a beer next time.

"I don't drink beer, I drink hard--I don't drink, but when I do, I drink whiskey, vodka... Beer is too light, I flare up--I'm Asian..." (I ramble.)

Somewhere in there, he said, "I like to live dangerously," in his thick accent--it gave me shivers. I wanted to seize the moment and say something uninspired and crazy and spontaneously and profoundly... Silence. Too long a silence--too thoughtful or appreciative to be honest. So I put on my "army accent" and asked, "What sort of crazy shit do you do?"

A pause. A hesitation, sizing me up. "Ehhh, that's a not so good question to ask me." There was a suggestion that I ask something different. He went on.

He'd had two beer, and perhaps it was showing. It's hard to say--but social drunkenness and my empathy is another topic for another day.

Twice, he made comments I couldn't hear, and then explained they were jokes, then quickly added that they weren't very good ones so it was okay. Before I left, I told one of my favourites:

"Infinitely many mathematicians walk into a bar. The first orders a beer. The next, a half beer; the next, a quarter; an eighth. Before the next can speak, the bartender says, 'You're all idiots!' and pours two beer."

He laughed--he got it and found if tunny, I was impressed! He'd said he'd taken Calc (and Stats I, Physics, Chem, Linear Algebra, and maybe Comp Sci, because he knew a bit about Java or C and object orientation and functions...).


There's something in me right now that seems to crave companionship. I'm alienating myself and convincing myself there is no one for me and that I should get used to this fact. But instead of motivating me toward independence, it depresses me and right now I just want to scream. Or jack off--but the basement is bug-infested, and jacking off won't solve anything. Does screaming solve anything? Crying?

My own caring undoes me, it seems. If I could either overcome my problems, or not care for them so much, I think I might be happier.

Well, I'm going to get a snack.
--Charlie

Story from Summer of 2008

I feel like writing about this past summer, 2008. I think enough time has passed that:
a) I have a clearer, more "objective" idea of what happened;
b) anyone who cared at one point has stopped caring by now;

This story contains explicit scenes of (hetero) sexuality.

This story takes place at the beginning of my SQ--the end of July or the beginning of August 2008. The fifty-odd of us had just spent a month together as a course, living in the luxury of separate rooms with television sets and lock-able doors.

About a week prior was the BMQ grad party. A bunch of us went to a bar and danced and drank and some guys went to the conveniently-close hotel to stay the night. I had drank a few and was slipping past "tipsy" and into "drunk", and I was dancing very closely with PMK. Annnd he slid his arm around my waist.

Aside: I'd never, NEVER in any of my, well, three relationships, been treated "like a lady". My friends and (past) lovers have always treated me as a respected person, and not like a sexy feminine figure. They might have thought of me sexually, but I wasn't treated this way, which is not a bad thing! All I'm saying is that this feeling was ENTIRELY NEW and felt....well, new and good!

When 0200 rolled around, and the bar closed, we were so close to getting a room together. The only thing that stopped us? No rooms were "available". Whatever.

The story takes place about a week after that party.

We got some time off. I went to see strippers with some guys (and gals). PMK showed up sometime. Then we all went back to the shacks. I'd had a few drinks and was tipsy--not drunk, just tipsy. I and another girl, KH, crashed on PMK's bed. Eventually, KH got up and left, and some guys came around, making some fuss about how I was passed out in his room. Someone said something about waking me up, and when I hear my name and "wake up" in the same sentence, I do. So I got up, made a drowsy exit, all the time asking, "What the hell are you talking about?" and followed the crowd.

Somewhere in there, IM pulled me aside and said that PMK was calling for me, that he wanted me, and that I should go see him. I didn't believe him (he was probably just trying to see what would happen), but somehow he convinced me to go.

The way the rooms are set up, the door opens inward and the first thing you see walking in is a desk-table-thing. To your immediate left (or right, depending) is a sort of door-less closet, and past that, hidden by its walls, is the bed.

I tapped lightly on PMK's door. He stuck his hand off the side of his bed, palm up, and waved me in with a simple bend of the fingers. So I shuffled in shyly and crouched at his bedside. We made idle chatter.

In retrospect, I think he was just chatting to get me into bed--not a bad thing, but at the time, thought he was only talking to make me more at ease, since he was already comfortable and confident about everything.

"There's no way you're comfortable sitting down there," he said.

He has a fascinating voice. He'll sing sometimes, just for the hell of it--he'll take his words and give them notes, any notes, or he'll make sing-songs when addressing others in front of others. He sometimes throws in a chuckle, a rueful or disappointed chuckle. But sometimes his voice takes on a highly sensual quality--it makes me very aware of his body, his physical feelings, and my own.

This time, his voice had a chuckle, not rueful but playful and inviting. It made me nervous and shy.

"I'm quite comfortable here, actually; actually, I can be comfortable almost anywhere--" I started abstracting, I probably started going on about how I could sleep anywhere at any time, but I could wake up at the sound of--

I stopped. I realized my chattering and accepted his invitation.

We chatted some more, idle chatter, time-filling, oppressive chatter, made to imitate closeness, to justify this indulgence.

Silence.

"I'm going to take my shoes off." Off they went, paired neatly together, just out of the way, beside the desk. Good job. I slid back into the bed. He had laid out his arm, and I fitted the bend of my neck into his thick arm. I looked over at my shoes. How orderly, how tidy and neat and--

"I'm going to take my glasses off." I folded them away and tucked them into one of the shoes. Back to his arm. He rolled to his side, drew his other arm around me, drew me close to him, gently pulling my body in.

"I want you to know," he began, "that I'll only go as far as you want to, only as far as you're comfortable with."

Something sparked and stirred in me. Excitement, gratitude, desire? Relief, anticipation, comfort...

We chatted more--or, he talked, and I drank his words.

"I'm a sensitive guy," he said, "not 'sensitive' in--I mean, my nerve-endings are closer to my skin, so I feel more, that's why I'm so touchy-feely." And, "I don't know if it's a matter of pride, but I like to make the girl come, too. I guess it's pride. If I don't, I feel like I failed somehow."

"This is crazy," I remember saying.

"What is?"

"This, all of it--being on base, on course, the whole frat policy..."

He chuckled. "There are worse things to get in trouble for."

We snuggled. He touched my nipples through my shirt. I drew breath, he paused. There was noise outside, and we realised how early it was. We agreed to continue in an hour.

An hour later, I poked my head outside my door and then tiptoed back into his room. He slept with his fire blanket, crazy guy. I slipped into his extended arm and he drew me in, touched my face, my arms, kissed my mouth.

There's something about mouth-kissing someone I don't know very well, it feels strange. I mean, mouths are for communicating--among another things. And mouth-kisses are two "communicating" -type body parts, interacting in very close proximity... They should be communicating! So, I dunno, these kisses make me nervous.

His skin was rough, I think I like it rough; textured, work-worn. He was--not quite "aggressive", but assertive and willing to go after whatever he wanted. He'd grab my ass--repeatedly--tighten his grip around a cheek either just to feel how it felt in his hand, or to turn me on. It gave me such a hard-on.

And he'd switch up our positions, too: he'd take top, he'd concede; take, concede, take, concede... And sometimes I took, and sometimes I would concede.

He lay me on my back and set his mouth to my naked torso; manipulated my nipples between his lips and teeth; and I thrust my hips up into his legs, down into the sheets, up again and grinding my clothed crotch into his clothed member. At some time, I managed to pull him off. "If you keep playing with my nipple, I'll scream from sheer pleasure." He chuckled, but backed off.

I lay him on his back--somewhere in there, his shirt disappeared or rolled up to his neck and shoulders and I pushed his elbows back down beside his head and pinned them there with my arms--and played my mouth on his chest, took his right nipple between my lips. He'd draw breath, move, and moan, and talk a little dirty. I moved to his left, and his hands took me by the shoulders and hefted me up to his face so he could tell me between breaths: bite me, use your teeth, harder. I took my teeth to the blunt of his nipple and he started grinding his hips into mine. Did I mention that he talks dirty? I think I like it.

"Fuck yes."

Eventually he said, "I can't stand it anymore. Take my cock in your hands," and he reached into his army-issue boxers and pulled it out.

Now, I should probably mention, up until that point, I had never seen a penis--I mean, up close and personally, where I could touch it and see it respond. There was this one time, a boyfriend sat in a chair and I undid his jeans and groped around for a while, but that was under silk Sponge-Bob boxers, denim and a sweater, and I didn't have to see it.

When PMK "whipped it out", there was a moment where I seriously thought it was some ridiculous, over-sized silicone imitation--why one earth would it lay so huge and limp on his gut? I think I laughed.

Giggling, I took it in my hand. What do I do with this? I tittered, apologised. "I've never done this before."

"Well, it's always good to try new things."

"How... How do you do it?"

He showed me. He closed his hand around it and moved slowly, pulling up gently, down gently; up slightly tighter, down gently... His fingers guided my timid hand and placed my digits around the limb. I remember my thumb just barely reaching my fingertips on the other side. Up gently, down gently, up tighter, down gently... Now you try. His hand closed around my own, moved us both, then let me continue.

I remember vividly the feeling of loose skin, like an over-sized wrapping for sausage--is that where sausage came from--and it moved with my hand as though gliding along some hidden shaft beneath. But I suppose that makes sense... Why didn't I know more about penises? It bothered me somehow, that this was so alien to me--yet it bothered me equally to take this alien organ and manipulate it in my hands... So much loose skin!

I got into the rhythm, got a feel for the pressure; started trying variations. It was enormously gratifying to feel him harden in my hand, and to have my hand pulled along, closer to him in a growing erection. I pulled down on the skin just by his head, exposing so suddenly a pink tip, and I twisted it in the palm of my hand. He grunted. "Fuck yes. Oh, babe--oh baby..."

At one point he said, "Slow down," and it caught me off guard. I slowed. We snuggled; kissed mouths, petted. He was all breath and sweat.

"This is so unfair," he said.

"Unfair?"

He went on to explain that he likes to give as well as get--so that "the girl" gets some attention, too.

"The reason I asked you to slow down was because I was about to come, and--and I didn't want to 'surprise' you." He kissed my neck. "Do you want..." I was so hot for him. "Do you want me to make you come?"

Some part of me was begging for release, I wanted him so bad, I was so insanely crazy for him, I might have done anything, I might have gone through with anything.

"I'm," I tried to put words together. "Hell no. I scream and I'm huge mess when I come."

He laughed, half with mirth, half with unbelief, as though he couldn't believe his good luck--as though he wanted to ascertain his good luck. What a tease--though he probably thought the same of me. We kissed. There was a suggestion of a chuckle.

"Why do you have to be so damned loud..."

From there, we began to settle down, drift into a calm. We chatted idly--and I was forever wanting to hold onto him past this month, past this course.


And that was my first, and at this date, my only one night stand. We didn't really have "sex" (in my opinion, we had sex), and it wasn't just the one night (it was two, but only one should be remembered), but a one night stand anyhow.

There's something very reassuring about entering that kind of (largely unspoken) agreement: You are you, I am I; you want, I want; we're just going to give into our bodies for this one time, no complications, no strings attached, you and me, fulfilling our bodies, together for this stretch of time.

Anyhow, there's my little story. More to follow, perhaps, some other time.
--Charlie

Opinions

So it turns out I have some weird ideas about my image as a woman, and I never knew I had these ideas! One of them I had mentioned before: Hetero penetrative sex.

Charlie on Pregnancy (personally)

Right now, I can't see myself having children--in the future, even. Sure, aside from being beautiful and wonderful, there's probably a lot of fulfillment and pride and other great things... But me--Charlie--pregnant? I feel that would only propagate the idea that women are factories for creating more humans.

People see pregnant women all the time and--though maybe this is a bit of a stretch--the sight of a pregnant woman causes people to stop and think about pregnancy and creation of new humans. I think it's MUCH more rare for someone to see a non-pregnant woman and think, "Oh look, there's a woman who isn't pregnant!" and think about women and how they could be non-pregnant.

Another thing: in a couple joined in civil union, there's an expectation to have a child--by birth or adoption, or what have you, but there's a cultural expectation, I think. And if a couple goes long enough without children, the norm is to ask, "Are they infertile?" "Don't they want kids?" "What's wrong with them?"

Whenever that question--"What's WRONG with them?"--is asked, there is usually a lot of assumption going on. Here the assumption is: it is normal to have children, it is normal to want to have children. Thus, a couple that has not conceived must have either some physical defect, or some mental defect for not wanting to procreate.

So, by becoming pregnant, I further the image and idea of women as carriers of new humans; and further the normality and expectancy of pregnancy in women. So.... Charlie won't be pregnant--at least, for a LONG time!


Charlie on Hetero Penetrative Sex (HPS)

HPS is gross and unfair. As a woman, there is no sex organ (long enough) I can use to penetrate--invade the internal space of--a man's orifice(s). As a woman, I cannot derive the same physicality of pleasure that a man can derive, by sticking a body part into someone else.

There is an invasion of personal space--even if there is consent, in HPS, I as a woman would be receiving the (repeated) entry of another person into the confines of my body.

I guess I want to "level the playing field". There is this sex toy I've seen, the Feeldoe (http://images.google.ca/images?q=feeldoe), used for girl-on-girl penetrative sex. One end goes into the vagina of the penetrating woman, who holds it in place with her muscles. There are little nubbies that ride along her clit (which is the female analogue to the male's head of the penis). The other end goes into the woman to be penetrated, like a penis would in HPS. I like this idea--especially about stimulating the clit, because it simulates (maybe) the feeling of penetration--ie, the nubbies on the clit imitates the sensation that the head of the penis gets from being inserted and withdrawn repeatedly.

Woots.



Thoughts

I used to be mysterious. I used to be so involved in myself that I didn't care about anyone else--and people were drawn to me! I guess I started taking that for granted, because I'm beginning to lose more of myself to others. Well, I was worried I had, but maybe that worry isn't as justified now as it was then.

I used to be such a Scorpio. I don't mind Scorp--except for the crazy sex drive. It drives me nuts sometimes and I need to keep it in check.

But now? I don't know what's happened. After the Summer of Eric, I deconstructed myself and tried to start anew. I don't know how much I rebuilt after tearing down, but it seems to have held so far. I'm a bit wary right now, though, that perhaps the foundation was less sound than I'd thought. It's always hard to.....remake oneself, since we are continually adding new bits, and perhaps even losing old bits.


So, this guy...

So this guy, he's an interesting fellow, something like Neek, but more...compassionate. Neek is a justified asshole. SW is.... he cares.

Hah, I'd mentioned to SW... There's a scene in Heroes where Peter meets Matt for the first time, and Matt tries to read Peter's mind, but Peter starts mimicking his ability and there's this feedback sound like you get with mics. I imagine that's what SW meeting Neek would be like!


SW

I dunno! I've already told him I like him; and he's said he likes me at least a bit more than as a friend... But he doesn't want to get into a relationship until he sorts some stuff out--which I think is noble and honest of him.

But... I dunno?

I feel very comfortable with him--which is good and bad. I trust him entirely too much for not knowing him. And, I guess this is where the "mysterious Charlie" thoughts come in--like, I used to be him. It's pretty freaky. Had I decided that [things] were important to me and decided to pursue them, I might have turned into SW. Crazy!

But that's another thing, he's young--not much younger, mind, but...maybe young enough. And I think I'm sick of waiting for people to grow up. But I'm waiting for....something anyway, so I may as well wait for another thing? I don't know...

Besides the familiar "me" in SW, there's something else familiar about him--something that reminds me of Eric vaguely. Not that SW is necessarily similar to Eric, but something reminds me of him. Argh.


Relationships?

I've been thinking about polygamy again, and--if I'm honest with myself--I can admit that I'm a jealous person. I also enjoy positions of authority and power--not necessarily for the sake of dominating others, but it feels....good within me. Like, "I am a full human being, I am as I am, I am fully myself, I am wholly myself, I satisfy/sustain/fulfil/enjoy myself..." -sort of thing. But I do also enjoy being in positions of power so I can better care for others, and I suppose, for security...

SW is a giver. I am a giver. But I think SW is more practised in giving and enjoys it more than I, so he would hold that position more easily.

Giving is easy--in some respects, I'm talking very generally in terms of what it requires of character to give. Receiving is less easy. Receiving requires grace and...a knack for making the other feel appreciated. I lack grace, generally. About the most graceful I can get is Milonga del Angel (Astor Piazzolla) on a good day and when my fingers are sufficiently warmed-up.

But that skill of receiving is perhaps more useful? In giving, I make the other feel good. In receiving, I can get AND make the other feel good. ...My old self would take advantage of this. Me, I don't know.


I've been sitting on my arse too long. Time to do something else.
--Charlie

Talking With Myself

Condoms

I had a discussion with a Neek the other day. I had mentioned this strange relationship with EE and slipped the word "fuck-buddy". And then I mentioned this other guy I've been eyeing and how I might seriously consider starting "casual relationships" from now on.

What Neek said next, logically, makes sense, I guess. No matter how I react to it, it still makes sense, and it's what I would've said to just about anyone else in my position.

"If you're going to start having casual relationships, you'd better carry condoms."

Backstory: Me

I've always been able to say No. Every time a guy has asked for something (sexual) that I didn't want, I could always, ALWAYS say No and enforce it. There was my first boyfriend; there was MM; PMK; and, hypothetically (since it was only in the land of instant messaging and not face-to-face) EE.

I mention this so you can understand where I'm coming from.

My response was, essentially: "If you have sex, use a condom. If you don't have a condom, don't have sex."

Neek: "You say that now, but in the moment, you won't be able to say No."

Me: "I've always been able to say No!


But this isn't really what I wanted to talk about. No, of course, I want to talk about me.

Me

What does the fact I'm unwilling to carry condoms--even if I'm sexually involved with a guy--say about me?

It means I'm stubborn, and maybe stupid. Well. Carrying a condom would be smart. Not carrying a condom would be stupid. It's a stupid thing to do. Does that make the decision stupid? ... It *should*. Why can't I see it that way? Just carry the fuckin' condom, dammit!

I must have such strong belief in myself, then.

"Well, just in case" has been one of my most-used arguments for things like going to work early or packing extra kit. ... Extra kit.

My thoughts:

Well, I'm obviously not going to jump a guy tomorrow. Tomorrow, I work anyway. And the day after that.

How about the next day?

I'm going to school to buy books and a bus pass.

Mightn't I meet someone at school?

UNLIKELY as fuck.

Why? Why is that unlikely?

Well, I don't like very many guys...

Yet you're considering trying casual relationships...

Yeah, but I have "standards", there are certain things I'm just not attracted to, or wouldn't compromise for the sake of sex I can give myself.

So, you want to have casual fucking with very specific guys. And because he's so specific, this means you won't ever find him. Therefore, you shouldn't carry condoms.

Right! ... Wait, what?

You want "A", but that would mean doing "B", which you don't want. However, getting "A" would be so unlikely that doing "B" would be unnecessary. So, the real question is how badly do you want "A"?

...Yeah. Well. Not all that badly, really. I mean, there are times when I *really* think I want it--a guy to run my hands over and to snuggle with me--but, when I had that with JT, it wasn't great at all. It was empty and boring. ... BUT, it was also viewed as a long-term relationship! Maybe if we came right out and said it'd be casual, it wouldn't have been so bad.

How do you really think you'd react to that? If you found a guy tomorrow and, supposing all things went well, and you said, "Let's be fuck buddies, and here are all the things I'd consider as 'fucking' and what I would and would not like to do with you. We don't have to become emotionally involved with each other--but it's okay if we do, there's just no expectation." Things would be good--great--at first. Happy body sensations! But you're clingy. You are SO CLINGY. Remember PMK? Yeah. YEAH. That's what it would be like. ALL--OVER--AGAIN.

Yikes.

YEAH.

So... I'm clingy, and I would get emotionally attached and it would only hurt me and not him, in all likelihood.

Bingo.

Sooooo...... What does this all mean...

Well. How badly do you want to change?

Huh?

If you could change so that you don't get all clingy and dependent, then you could have casual relationships that work.

Hm. How would I get them to work?

Well, ideally, you'd have more than one going at the same time.

... What?!

I mean, you LOVE attention. If one guy became busy, you could fall back to the other. Then you'd only have to deal with that clinginess.

Well I've never been (romantically) emotionally involved with more than one guy at a time, historically.

True... Y'know, this is becoming more about how you change / don't change.

In what way?

Well, you're always basing your projections on your past.

Isn't that a good thing?

Yes, but it might also limit your ability to grow in new, unseen ways.

Yeah, but every time I've tried that, it's failed: first year of university, Army... I tried to change to fit the culture. And it only worked superficially and for a short time.

So.. Hypothetically, if you had more than one casual relationship at a time...

And they all worked superficially and only for a short time....

..Maybe it would work?

This is way too hypothetical for me.

Just sayin'!

OKAY I THINK WE'RE OFF TOPIC NOW. PICK A NEW TOPIC OR REEL IT IN, GUYS AND GALS.


(Actually, I just got invited to play chess with GV. More later!)
--Charlie!

Socializing tonight!

Me

So, I've never really gotten over that guy from Saskatchewan. I realize it was just a fling -sort of thing, but not being someone who usually has flings--with guys--while working....well, it's hard for me to let go of him. Yes, he lives far away, I'll probably never see him again, if I do see him again, it'll be on a professional level; I, in all likelihood, scared him off... Yes, okay, it's my fault.

Actually, I wonder what's bothering me most: missing him, or my regrets? Huh... I think my regrets...

Anyway.

Tonight was a small "mixer" party. Fun! Gay men are wonderful. I got so many hugs tonight!

There were a few minor complications, however.

- In the past, one of the gay guys, M--- said, "You're manly" to me, in a sort of "Ooh, you're *manly*". I really don't know how to interpret this, so I'll just assume he was being a kidder.

- Creepy-Ass showed up again. This is someone who used to grope my arm when he'd say hello to me. I don't like him; not only that, I *dislike* him, he makes me uncomfortable, being near him is almost suffocating, he disturbs me and I feel almost an obligation to make sure he's not making anyone else as uncomfortable as he made me. Ugh.

- There was a drunk girl. We sat together for the last bit, put our arms around each other. Nothing more.

- Throughout the entire day, I received sooo much sexual innuendo. Apparently, I was in a foursome--well, that's what they called it, but we were just sitting together on the couch...together. There may have been some touching. Actually, we had a back-rub chain of at least three, a bit later. And at one point, M--- and I talked, kinda--well, he said something implicating, and then I just had to clarify and ask, "Do you *like* women?" and his response was something like, "Well, I'll take what I can get. I'd just have to close my eyes and pretend it's someone else." I don't know if he meant anything by that--probably not.



Aaaanyway, I have to:
- mark papers
- prepare a lesson plan
- get ready for my Stat midterm which is tomorrow morning
ALL BEFORE TOMORROW MORNING. MORNING.

Tonight will be much fun. YES.

--Charlie

Bikeathon!

Bikeathon

My best friend goes to a Lutheran church, and they have many programs out at Luther Village. It's a campground out by Kenora; it's beautiful country. Last year, he invited me to the annual bikeathon and I rode 80km to raise money for Luther Village.

Click to visit public photo album.

Last year was amazing. I had trained so much; even though it's mostly flat over here, I found a few hills and bridges for training and was on the road at least twice a week. When I realized it was only 25km, I switched to the 80km ride.

This ride starts at the entrance to Luther Village from Highway 71, goes to Bunny Lake for a pit stop (roughly 20km), then continues to Sioux Narrows (roughly another 20km) for lunch; then back to Bunny Lake for another rest, and finishes back at the entrance to Luther Village.


80km Bike Route

All distances and times are approximate. I'm not even sure if the map is entirely accurate; I guessed where Luther Village and Bunny Lake are.

Where	When	Dist	What
Entrance to Luther Village from Highway 71	08:00	n/a	Start point
Bunny Lake	09:00 - 09:30	20km [map]	Rest stop; wait for everyone to arrive; have snacks and power drinks
Sioux Narrows	11:00 - 12:00	20km [map]	Lunch; wait for the 100km riders to arrive; rest
Bunny Lake	13:00	20km	Rest stop; wait for everyone to arrive; have snacks and power drinks
Entrance to Luther Village	14:00	20km	End point; walk back to Luther Village

For the whole route, see this map.


Luther Village

Luther Village is a fantastic place. Most obviously, it is beautiful country; lakes, hills, trees, wildlife, plants, rocks, waters... Absolutely gorgeous.

But there's more!

When I'm there, I don't feel at all judged. Everything is just--"You are here now, and we love you", as though that's all that matters.

I wish I could write more, but it'd get too personal and these aren't my stories to tell. I'll just mention that my best friend also brought his girlfriend, who is going through a lot of issues (if you pray, please pray also for her, her growth, and that her loved ones will be with her and lend her strength), and we all agree this was so good for her.

And it was good for me, too. I needed that exercise, and the time to clear my head.

Will add more later...
--Charlie!


Some Photos

More...

075: (abandoned)

Work

So it's been a while. I got another job, selling knives this time. I started on 17 May, and already I'm quitting.

Started off okay; they have brilliant marketing and training strategies. And, I mean, sure, it's a great job, for some people. Just not me.

Reasons I am quitting Vector:

• I don't have a cell phone;
  
• I don't have a driving license;
  
• I don't have access to a vehicle;
  
• At some point, it becomes dangerous for a tiny Asian girl to wear business casual and take public transit to the North End to sell knives;
  
• Had I a driving license and access to a vehicle, I am averse paying for fuel
  
• I like office/predictable hours;
  
• I need to be me--I need to be an artist (this job is infringing on my ability to be an artist);
  
• I feel as though I am being manipulated through this job--which I am and will be for most any job, but it also feels wrong in my gut; and
  
• I don't like the way it goes through people I know.

Today was my last day. I hand in my papers tomorrow.


Sexuality

I'm trying to figure out which I prefer: men or women. I mean, women have things most men don't--like a good sense of both personal hygiene and bodily responsibility, and attractive breasts--and men have things women usually don't--like facial hair and work-hardened skin.

I'm wondering. I like Kevin--entirely too much--but there are so many times I think to myself, "If only he were a woman."

I'm wondering about one of my close friends who came out as bisexual recently and is now in several open-relationships.

I guess I'm wondering about monogamy. Is it acceptance of human ability to satisfy, versus human desire? I mean, I think a lot of us want more than we can fulfill.

Someone has said of me, "You never can be just one thing, can you!" I guess it's true.

I'm wondering if polygamy is fair. A lot of people want to be the only person (romantically) in another's life--want to "be everything" to someone. Is that naive, or is it optimistic? I think it's a bit of both.

Is polygamy then cynical, or is it practical? "Not one person can satisfy all my needs, so I'll go with multiple people." Is it an excuse? "It's not you, it's me. I just can't be satisfied this way." Yes, I think it can be an excuse sometimes.

I think "Celibate Polygamy" is my word of the day.


Kevin

I'm thinking maybe I've freaked Kevin out a little.

I'm kind of aggressive--at least, the last few guys I liked, I went after them more aggressively--so maybe my phoning and badgering and running my fingertips up the nape of his neck kinda scared Kevin off. Okay! So Charlie is scary and imposing and aggressive and needs to give Kevin some space. Got it!

On the other hand...

Last time he was over, I was running about, trying to finish up my work. So he made himself comfortable laying on the edge of my bed. And he's started making sex/penis jokes, which is an entirely unexpected first! (For example: while playing Settlers of Catan, he managed to make "wood" jokes.) Welcome? Maybe, maybe.

Maybe I'm just giving meaning to events. Actually, I am definitely giving meaning to events, but perhaps they're wrong or perhaps I believe too strongly in them. Like when he initiated physical contact with me for the second time ever. Is that a sign? Maybe? Probably not! Things only fit so well in retrospect. If we end up going together, that will look as a landmark; if we don't, I will forget it ever happened.


Analysis

Why do I like Kevin? --And I mean that in the best way possible.

He doesn't scan or study or judge me--or if he does, it's not on a conscious level. This alone would probably be enough! I'm not sure if I mentioned before, but the day I got my "very" short haircut, he was the first to see it, and he said nothing. No "I like your hair" or "You got your hair cut!" bullshit, nothing. I loved it.

Something in my gut tells me he's a person who is...changing / moving / not-still inside. Or maybe it's more like waterwheel perfectly balanced and awaiting the one drop that will make it spin forward. I'm a little scared to lead/push him the wrong way. I want him to be his own person and carve his own path, but I want to see where he goes--both out of curiosity and because he means something to me.

I guess, tied to the above, he's new ground to me. I've never met someone like him, and I love that. It's both my...cerebral curiosity and my..."soul" curiosity. He himself said he realized just how young he is and how this is the time to explore and make mistakes.



[post abandoned]

Kevin?

Post abandoned from 5-May-2008
Kevin

Went for a long walk with Kevin today, maybe 10km, outdoors; talked.

Both he and I have realized how young we are--that this, now, is the time to make mistakes and have adventures. There's something....interesting, I dunno, about him.

I dunno if it means anything, but he started quoting The Simpsons: "...an enigma wrapped in a mystery" and I finished, "wrapped in a vest" and he said, "High-five!" This would be the second time he's initiated physical contact--the first time being at a film festival downtown when he hugged me in thanks for coming.

And while I'm mentioning things that are probably meaningless, he also asked me what my plans are for the summer.


I feel weird; I felt weird with Kevin. After walking, we went back to his place for some water and a bit more conversation, then I went home. I still have difficulty looking at people when i talk tot hem. Same with typing, I think. I type faster and better when I'm not looking at the screen--generally.

We have something......strange?


We walked by a park and decided to cut across. "Let's be naughty," Kevin said in a 'proper' British accent, and I said, "Well, when you put it that way...!" He laughed sharply and replied; "Of all the things to be considered naughty, walking through a field is probably the lamest!" I'm not sure why he said that--if it was to play innocent, or if he really meant it.


Saturday 10-May-2008

Went for another jog with Mark; only did about 3 km tonight because his ankle hurt. Then we went for food.

We talked. We also talked about Kevin. Mark recommends I stop speculating and actually "test the waters". I'm inclined to agree.

Mark asked what I even wanted to do "to" Kevin. Mostly, I want to cuddle.

"Do you want to have sex with him?"

My ideas about sex and what it is--they're probably very different from most other people's ideas! I've probably mentioned it before, but to me, "sex" is "sexy things", and by that definition, I've had "sex" with three people--though I kinda don't think one of them should count because it wasn't enjoyable on this side.

Anyway.

Scissoring is probably the greatest / hottest sex act ever, in my humble opinion. I told Mark that's what I'd probably end up wanting to "do to" Kevin.

I'm going to put my finger in the palm of his hand and see what happens. Well, maybe not yet.

I want to tell him he's beautiful; I like his hair and the way it's thick and rough; the way he can turn his smile off and on like a switch; the way he likes politeness and defaults to it all the time; I want to see what he sees; to feel his thoughts and know the reactions that spark within him as I run my fingers down his chest, along his shoulders and up the column of his neck. I want to hear his breathing and feel the heaving of his chest as we lay against eachother in half sleep. I want to take a walk with him in some open field, then race him to the other side, and tackle him to the ground when he wins.

Sigh.

But, at the same time, I'm not sure if I want these things. I mean, even though he's said he's realized how young he is and that this now is the time to be adventurous and make mistakes, I just don't know. I don't know if it's worth it.

I could have a totally awesome, meaningful and long-lasting relationship.
I could have a pretty great relationship and find out that we're just not meant to be, but we get over it and move on, learning from the whole experience.
I could totally botch this up and ruin both our futures.
I could totally botch this up and ruin just one of our futures...

Who knows!

--Charlie!

Stfu Stuff

Artwork

Woots! Bobfest V is up!

You can also check out what the wall of Boobfest looks like now.

There's also this painting.

This was something I thought up while putting together my army kit. It didn't turn out exactly as I wanted, but pretty close. I think I'll do more of this style in the future; I like it a lot.


Relationships

I think I finally got it through my thick skull that Kevin and I wouldn't work out in a romantic relationship. I'm much too needy--I'm glad that finally got through to me.

It's kinda interesting right now. Maybe I'm just making up meanings, but the fact is that I've sent him about five e-mails recently, two of which asked if he would like to do something this week, and the rest were "just business". He's responded to the "just business ones" only--even the "just business" e-mail that was sent after the "let's hang out" e-mails.

So, I dunno. Maybe he thinks I'm going after him--which I sort of was. I'd love for us to be close friends the way Eric and I are friends, or, at least, the way Eric and I can communicate and know but be pleasantly surprised by one another.

It's... irritating. I wonder how much of it is me and how much of it is.. not me, and what constitutes "not me".

Anyway.


Army

Got my Civi kit inspection today. Probably will get yelled at for not having the "Recommended" items (only the "Mandatory" ones; but you know what, I don't have a ride and I'm not hauling stupid amounts of kit around on a bus.


Me

I've been so angry lately. I want to punch things. I had a dream where I was doing one-handed knuckle push-ups, and it fucking hurt, but I kept going and going until I was absolutely spent.

I don't know what to do--never been... "chronically angry" before.

Exercise, I think.


--Charlie

Dreams and Leaving

Dreams

I had a very strange dream about Kevin today/last night. I'll try to summarize it.

We were going for a walk at night, kinda romantic and stuff. I'd been thinking about other people and how he'd never been with anyone else before. So I stopped suddenly and asked him, "How would you describe our relationship?"

I think he paused and eventually said something to the effect of "friendly with a possible romantic interest?"

I laughed, punched him in the arm (in playfulness!) and agreed. We talked about our "relationship", and I eventually said, "Let's have an open relationship" or something.

Later, we met these two or three girls; I think it was on the bus. One of them was based on a co-worker, and another was some pretty girl. The pretty girl was sitting across from us. For some reason, it was made known to everyone that she was interested in dating Kevin. I said, "Well, she's pretty," and she got upset. "Oh, sure, I'm 'pretty', that's all I am, isn't it? Well what do you know!" sort of thing.

The other girl, let's call her Cat, was in front of us, and she kept making eyes at Kevin. I thought it might be interesting to watch, so I scooted over a seat and let her sit beside him.

She's one of those attention-grabbers. She loves attention. She'll speak esoterically and I think the only reason she's interested in some things is for bragging or the sake of being "interesting".

I remember getting sick of her very quickly. But, of course, Kevin liked having this kind of attention paid to him, and found the girl interesting enough, and I was the one who suggested we "open things up a bit", so I held.

It got irritating pretty fast!

I'm not sure exactly how, but I think we all camped or somehow stayed at some house for the night. We took turns "sharing" Kevin. I taught him how to cook and we went for a walk (or something); and she put on a movie and taught him how to cuddle and make out. I was furious.

Actually, I was jealous. I was very vividly jealous. I'd never been jealous like that before--either in real life or dreams.

I'm not sure that it ever ended up getting resolved; I don't remember. But I remember that jealousy cutting into me, like a red-hot fire poker. So I guess the moral of the story is: If I want to have an open relationship with Kevin, I should prepare to be jealous.

Hah!


BMQ/SQ

I've never been away from home and family for two months before. I think the longest was one month, but even then, I was with my eldest brother in Germany.

In less than two weeks, I'll be away for my BMQ/SQ, with no family there. Just me. Me and my thoughts; me and my habits and idiosyncrasies and quirks. And those will slow me down, until I drop them and grow into a soldier--until they remake me in their image.

But, I'm also learning very useful skills--I'll even get my First Aid qualification, which is always great on a resume--and getting paid to learn.

I'm saying "bye" to a lot of friends before leaving. It feels weird. It's only two months. I've gone longer without seeing them, before. Do I want to feel special this time? Maybe. I think I want to be comforted. Strange.


--Charlie!

Kevin!

Kevin

Our "fun question of the day" at work was something like: "What is one very identifying characteristic or quality about yourself? In other words, what is a characteristic you have that makes you 'you'?"

I said something about me being an artist; that I analyze and look for patterns and meanings and, if I can, I add to it.

Kevin came over on Wednesday, and I asked him this question. I asked him that question. His reply surprised me.

"Earnest," he said. I looked questioningly at him. "I mean, I try, I do, honestly." He made some other elaboration I can't quite remember; but mostly, I wasn't familiar with the word "earnest."

earnest
adjective

1. serious in intention, purpose, or effort; sincerely zealous: an earnest worker.
   
2. showing depth and sincerity of feeling: earnest words; an earnest entreaty.
   
3. seriously important; demanding or receiving serious attention.

"earnest." Dictionary.com Unabridged (v 1.1). Random House, Inc. 11 Apr. 2008. .

Yeah. Wow. That he would say "earnest" as a very identifying characteristic surprises me.

I would have described him as cautious. Uncertain but "going forward" or "willing to go forward" maybe. "Just adventurous enough to take an extra step if drawn in some direction by someone else." Maybe?

There's something very fluid about him; but in being fluid, also somewhat unstable or maybe "tumultuous"--it feels as though he's fighting against himself, that the "instability" is within.

I'm not exactly sure why I like Kevin so much.

Part of it is his accepting nature. When I got my most recent haircut, he didn't stare; he didn't ask questions; he didn't say anything false--he didn't say anything! And it was...very welcome. He takes me in with no questions or expectations. I love that. Mind, I also like to challenge and discomfort people; so maybe I'd actually find him boring after a while. Maybe.

Another large part of it is his newness--he is uncharted territory to me, and I love a good puzzle.

I kind of want to talk to him on that level--though maybe I'm entirely wrong. But this is a journal, and here my imagination rules.

To: Kevin's soul

I think you're used to following or being led around. From what I've seen, you're very good at it, too. You're introverted, and "inside yourself". You can be comfortable pretty much anywhere because of this.

So get uncomfortable!

Go a little deeper inside yourself and ask what it is you want to do--what you yearn to do or experience. Set aside some time for yourself, and then seek after what it is you want--go out and search for it! Be not led by others, but by yourself!

Give it a try! It might feel it's strange and entirely too different to be "right". But you're young enough to try, and you've the means to try.

Lead yourself! Go where you choose; find yourself; be free!

I like that I'm leaving for two months. Maybe he'll be...well, of course "different" but... "more different"? Maybe he'll be "more different" when I get back, and we can begin again:

"I'm Charlie."
"I'm Kevin."
"Good to meet you!"

Is that what I want? Someone to come "back" to? To have my own, maybe separate, adventures, and to come back and swap stories? That doesn't sound like romance, but it sounds like marriage or deep friendship.

I've always "known" that I could marry my best friend--if only "romance" weren't supposed to factor in (it got to the point where he said, "I bet this is what marriage is like", referring to the way we can communicate almost instantaneously). We just have that...relate-able-ness. We have a core understanding of one another. We can leave each other and come back, and still communicate. I love that!

I think I'm going to have something similar with Kevin. It feels that way, at least. There's that sexual tension, too. I'm not sure what will come of it--maybe nothing, maybe everything. Who knows!

--Charlie!

(abandoned) Kevin, Columns and Sex

So, wow. My mom likes Kevin.

It's kinda weird; she barely even knows him but from what I tell her, she loves him! All she really knows is that he's in school, he studies hard (has little spare time to spend with me), and is applying for what she assumes to be a good, high-paying job. Woots.


Army

So, Comms went under Land Forces as of 1-April-08 (or, yesterday). What does this mean? Most importantly, for me, it means that our fitness standards have changed. Oh fug.

I did a Google search for "Battle fitness test" and these came up:
(in Shilo, Manitoba)
http://www.army.forces.gc.ca/lfwa/feature_bft.htm
(forum; how to prepare for the 13k ruck march?)
http://www.militaryphotos.net/forums/archive/index.php/t-119443.html


Reading stuff

http://www.fredoneverything.net/WomenInCombat.shtml
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MilMed.shtml
http://www.fredoneverything.net/MilWomenII.shtml


I'm reading a bunch of these "Fred" articles about women. Maybe I don't count, because I'm Canadian and not American, but if he can put his opinion out there, so can I.

I am a woman. I want to be a woman. I also want the option of being a man sometimes. I like to compete with men; but I do not expect to beat the best of them. I can accept that the best of women could probably not, physically, win in a competition with the best of men. I'm okay with being the same level as an average man; I'd be happy with being better than the average man--which I think is totally feasible.

I don't agree with setting up this war between women and men in an abstract sense--I don't think all women should be against all men. I can't stand affirmative action. But I also think women should be allowed in the military. If an individual fails, then she fails and there should be consequences. I think lowering standards is acceptable at first; but there should also be the expectation to improve. I know that's how I got in; but I also know I'm in poor shape.

I hear women make better helicopter pilots, because our centre of gravity is lower; which means we can balance better (personally), and have a better feel for when something is off balance. Just sayin'.

I'm one of those women who would like to be treated like a man (moreso in the future than now), and am willing to work up to being a good man.


Kevin, again

I think Kevin is one of the few guys who will "get" me--understand me, and even maybe appreciate and like me.

I'm talking with a friend right now, and for some reason we always end up talking about sex if the conversation lasts long enough.

We have generally very different ideas of what "sex" is.

For him, a straight male, the word "sex" immediately calls to mind "coitus" or, as he put it, "the junk in the junk."

For me, "sex" means something more like "sexy things". Included are: dry humping, heavy petting, mutual masturbation, and any other similar physical stimulation. Also, penises are weird, and although I'm slightly fascinated by them, the idea of coitus is generally a turn-off for me.

This in mind, I think there are few men who would understand my preferences. Somehow, I think Kevin could. I dunno, he just seems much more "open"; he'll, at least, talk about anything, and rather comfortably, too.

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