Let's Go Again

I feel nowish as though Boy and I had gone over the curve of a sine wave to find out selves at the bottom feeling uffish and unpleased about it, only to discover that we weren't on a sine wave at all, we were on a circle, and here we go again.

In recent months, over a summer of love and extraordinary comfort with one another, and then a semester of business and school and life and such, we had lost things. We let our little club here fall into ruin and thought to abandon it rather than making it a thing worth having. We let our play become less and less formalized, less and less planned. I seldom write about scenes anymore, because we seldom do them: all of our sex is kinky. We play with our toys and our rope, but we no longer set up experiences for one another. We have not pulled out the blindfold in ages, we have not asked one another to come to us, washed and in some specified clothing, to arrive at a room with lights dimmed and toys laid out and eyes downcast until we are told otherwise.

The sacred comfort and the beautiful feeling of knowing that Boy had planned my time, had things in store for me, that he was focused on me and the experience he was putting together, it is not there.

And moreso, we have lost the joy of Plain Old Every Day Sex. Someone is always the growly pinning bitey one. Maybe we'll go back and forth on who that is five times before we get off, but never do we just meet as two people who want to fuck each other equally much, equally hard.

And that I miss as well.

So we go again, back to square one. We have decided that we will now negotiate scenes, which we had somehow almost entirely stopped. Make sure we're on the same page and in the same mood. And then, when scenes are done, we will talk about how they went, and why. We are going to try, at least for the time being, to purge "kinky sex" from our lives, except where it follows directly a scene. I have this persistent feeling that there is only so much kinky energy to be had, and we've been frittering it away in small doses with all our toppy/subby/switchy/puppy sex, and never letting enough build up to do a truly great scene. So sex will be sex and scenes will be scenes, and we will, I hope, get more from all of them.

Of course, it's all just a plan now, but who cares.

And the club, which had turned almost to infighting as debated over and over and at length where we should go with it, as we poured out energy trying to plan discussions in which no one participated. And yet, when we chose to let it die, there was an outcry of disappointment, from those who had been coming for several semesters to those who had never yet gotten the chance. So we said screw it, lets go again. This time we won't plan anything, we'll just show up and chat about what we like. We'll make it even less formal, and if it should die when we leave, than we shall hope some other enterprising pervert shall have the same idea sometime later. Our safe space to talk and learn will still be there, and if nobody chooses to bring questions or ideas to us to chat about, well, that's their problem. We're doing our best.

I'm glad to know where I'll be this Friday afternoon, and why.

I feel very "back at square one". I feel as though we learned everything and then forgot it and must learn again. I have forgotten, to a great extent, how to relax and submit to a scene, and Boy has forgotten how to help bring me there. I have forgotten much of my skill with rope, and Boy has forgotten how to trust in what skill remains. So we must practice, and we must play, and we must formalize and ritualise and talk. We must talk, and talk, and talk.

I was struck when I first got into this how much communication the scene necessitated. Talk before a scene, talk after a scene, talk about the scene, negotiate terms and conditions and find your comfort level and spread the word. I'm sure in Poly and more actively open relationships the level of communication must be even higher. And we see first hand, now, how subtly that can break down. Not in one giant "Well you didn't say! You should have known! But I thought! You thought!," but in a slow slipping of understanding till you stop and compare your pictures of an action or situation and find just how far apart they have become.

I've been missing the time of our relationship that spawned this blog to begin with. The journeys of discovery. The feeling of trust. I'm excited that our work now is to bring that back.

And so pleased to know what heights we can achieve. We have friends. Here with us, in Mischief and Estra and occasionally May and Eileen and Maja and Tyr and Dov, and out in the internets, whether they know we're watching (as the amazing and lovely and utterly inspirational Goose and Gander surely do) or whether they do not, as perhaps Hannah, Teppycat, and even Monk might not have realized.