poly and picky

  1. He brings me wine and banana bread in our Love Suite(TM) when I’m feeling all avoid-y and not wanting to go downstairs where the family is.
  2. He made all the calls about seeing apartments this weekend.
  3. He cleans the litterboxes and the nasty poop puddles (the little cat has really messy IBD), and lets me have the job of feeding the kitties. So I get kitty affection for doing the easy job, and he gets kitty snubbing for doing the (literally) crappy one.
  4. He is a Woomaster Extraordinaire. If you’ve never seen him in action, you are seriously missing a beautiful thing.
  5. He holds my hand while we’re walking, even though public affection makes him all squicky.
  6. He’s blogging *for reals* now! I love his poems, but it makes me really happy that he’s got content-full bloggage now.
  7. And while he has his own (really perfect) nickname for Bad Idea,* he calls him Bad Idea on his blog too. Which makes me giggle, because, well, I guess he’s just a Bad Idea all around.
  8. He has the prettiest blue eyes I have ever seen in my life. After looking at them for 11+ years, sometimes the sight of them still makes me catch my breath.

*”An Inconvenient Jew.” Oh, if only I could make you understand how perfect that really is.


So, you know how I was all like, okay, the deed is done with Bad Idea, resolution blah blah blah, and I don’t have to do that again?

Well, I might have spoken just a bit too soon.

I hadn’t talked to Bad Idea since he left my house on Friday morning, and I had every reason to believe that he was just being…weird.

Last night, though, Jason, IB/DM, and Bad Idea came over for a few drinks–a pre-going-away party, to prepare us for today’s actual going-away-party. It was fun–drinking, listening to music, one everyone-drop-your-pants-and-do-a-shot moment (yeah, it’s nice to have GB back).

Then we decided to go out for a beer, and headed down the street a few blocks. The minute we got outside, Bad Idea dropped back with me–we ended up a couple blocks behind IB/DM, GB, and Jason. As soon as they (well, Jason, since GB and IB/DM already know all about the other night) were out of earshot, Bad Idea said, Damn, I keep thinking about the other night and I’d like to do that again…how about tomorrow sometime?

Well, blogfriends, what with the impending move and all, I think we can all assume that’s an offer I won’t be able to refuse.

So if we duck out of the party for a few minutes this afternoon? Uh, don’t look for us, okay?

***Bonus tragi-comic sentence of the evening: “Why does this have to happen right when you’re moving?”***

Guess what I did?

Told Bad Idea I wasn’t going to fuck him.

Guess what I woke up to at 8am?

3 untouched Jack & Cokes (why did I pour three drinks for the two of us?)

2 condom wrappers on the floor

2 HUGE painful bruise-y spots on my back (what the fuck happened to me? Did I fall down the basement stairs again? Thank gods there’s no actual basement here…)

1 Bad Idea standing confusedly in the middle of the living room mumbling, “I think I need to go home…”


We probably should have stuck with the heavy petting.

Live and learn. Regrets, I have none. Though I *am* going back to sleep.

(…is weaving a course of grace and havoc…)*

I just got back from lunch with Bad Idea–his treat, this time. I took the houseplants to him and he bought me pho. Pretty good deal.

We talked a little about the poly stuff–specifically, about how GB and I do it: how we’re honest, and try to be empathetic, and how we’ve been doing this for 11 years now (all things Bad Idea knows, but he was happy to be reminded). And we talked a little about our dinner the other night, and agreed that it was awesome all around.

By the end of lunch he said, “You’ve convinced me that I won’t go to hell or be a horrible person if we have sex. I’m sold. And we don’t have to tell Jason (who would be totally judgmental about it and keeps telling Bad Idea not to sleep with me). But really, the only people who HAVE to know are you, me, and GB. Right? Hmm. Okay. I’m convinced.”

Great, I said. What are you doing after work tonight?

And he said, “I’m convinced, and I know it would be great, and I want to. But I’m not giving it the thumbs up yet.”

Um. What? The? Fuck?

Strangest. Boy. Ever.

So I said, You know, I’m only here for another week, so really, we only have a few more days. And Bad Idea said–

–wait, are you ready? Because this is freaking hilarious:–

“Well, I don’t want it to feel rushed.”

–Got that laughter under control yet?–

I’ve lived here for 5 years.

I’ve been putting moves on Bad Idea for at least 4 of those years.

We’ve been doing the drunk kissing/fooling around, on and off, for the past 3 years.

We made out for nearly THREE FREAKING HOURS the other night.

But, no, I’d hate for him to feel rushed.

*Big points and my undying affection for my (maybe two?) blogfriends who can identify this lyric…

Boy Who is scared to sleep with me: 1

Me (Trying to sleep with boy): 0

So, yesterday I spent about six hours in a car with Bad Idea. Sadly, not *once* did anyone’s pants fall off.

He’d been looking for a truck for his new business, so I offered (drunkenly, the other night) to drive him to go look at one. Turns out it was a little bit farther than I thought (about an hour each way). Turns out, also, that leaving home at 3:30 on a Friday means it will not be a smooth drive (nor will you drive over 25mph at any point). Turns out, too, that what you *really* don’t want to do is be getting back into town right as this is about to start. Exhausting, I tells ya.

On the good side: the truck was awesome, and Bad Idea is now the proud owner of a Badass Red Truck. And I let him buy me dinner (at a cool townie 1930s steakhouse, no less), and two small alcoholic beverages. At which point I think we were both more than happy to part ways and tumble into our respective beds.

And I had the iPod in the car,* so I put on the “dangerous mood” playlist,** and we listened to that all the way back into town. And I found it entirely too entertaining that Bad Idea believed the iPod was just on the regular shuffle as we listened to song after song about drinking, screwing, cheating, and hair-pulling. Hee. At least I entertain myself.

*Hey, friends, I need advice. I got a super-cheap FM transmitter for the iPod (for the car–I don’t have a cassette player to use an adapter for that), and it’s really staticky and kind of a pain in my ass. It’s, like, the Best Buy brand or something. Does anyone have an FM transmitter that works well in cities? Can you advise?

**I know I never sent out the second Dangerous Mood mixes. My computer’s CD burner quit working, so I have to use an external one…which is really not a problem, but I just made it into a playlist for the iPod and forgot all about CDs. Sorry. I think it’s a work-in-progress, anyway.

Bad Idea: most perfect pseudonym ever. I might still be drunk, but fun like that is worth it.

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