As per usual I faded out for a time. Missed me? I wish I could say that in some coy, provocative manner, but let us face reality - while I am indeed provocative, I don't consider myself remotely coy. Not anymore, at least. I used to be. Then being coy grew to be, in alternate turns, both boring and aggravating. I'm too good at being coy, at playing games, and thus when I work those, people have little clue whether or not to take me seriously. A mistress of manipulation, perhaps I am, but I quit the manipulation game long ago when I decided that playing with hearts only lead to hurt. Sometimes on only one part, sometimes on both. Sometimes on many.
I certainly know how to jump into things I didn't even mean to discuss.
From the stats, the letter I wrote to my crush back in September seemed to be a popular entry. At least, I assume it really was. So for those of you who enjoyed that one, I regret to inform you that A's affection mostly dropped off, and while it's beginning to climb again, and I continue to have some feelings for him, these days I frequently wonder if those feelings were and are largely because he was there for me when I was fresh and raw out of the breakup. Yes, wondering such hurts. No, I'm not dwelling on it.
In relation, I finally left monogamy behind. I never considered myself monogamous, but I never knew how to discuss it with a partner. The Ex and I had an open relationship, but it was less than ideal under any name. The rules list was complex, and mildly ridiculous at times, and we both violated it. Perhaps him more than me. Alright, perhaps is a bit of an understatement, but we'll cover that later.
I'm not saying I'm poly. I probably am. I haven't entirely figured 100% soon if I'm poly or just a slut yet, and I'm not committing to anything before I know for certain. I used to jump into things with little thought, I'm a bit more cautious now.
I do have a sex life again, though. I quite enjoy it as well. I'd enjoy it more if it were more than each weekend, but life doesn't work well with that right now. In time, I'll give more details. I just need to figure out how to write it without giving too many details or falling into the trap I did back in the day with the Ex and waxing poetic about eeeeverything. Not that that was bad at the time, but these days, if I fawned and giggled over cock, I'd likely proceed to smack myself in the face with a frying pan. Not my cup of tea anymore. I can do it in person - while naked or clothed for sex, faced with it - but in writing? Can't. Would backspace it all.
I've been working on a lot of art and knitting and World of Warcraft when not consumed with sex, appointments for imminent schooling, and attempts to get hired somewhere. My art skills are improving again, it's quite pleasing to see. Sadly, I'm running out of room in my sketchbook and haven't the funds to get a new one.
I think that's really about it for life updates. Unless you reeeeally want to hear all about my every little sniffle. But I doubt it.
So. The meat of the matter; or, what I can't seem to stop making clear: I'm bitter. Yes, yes, my Ex and I ended on an amicable note. As far as the uninformed eye could see, we're still friends. I wish him all the best. But I also feel so much roiling resentment for so many parts of our relationship. I fume over it. I have a tendency to get bitching about it. And I can't help but relate near anything to the three years I spent with him. Is that normal? I don't know. A lot of my experiences during that time have affected me deeply. At 21 years old, that was a large chunk of my life.
We both did a lot of things that undermined our relationship. I say I'm not bothered, but who am I fooling? I grumble. I rant about how much the sex dropped off. I am displeased with how he handled many things, and yes, with how I handled many things. Communication was poor at best most of the time, and we had completely different ways of dealing with negative events. I wasn't always honest. I doubt he was always honest. Hell, I know he wasn't always honest, but I shouldn't air dirty laundry. Should I? Dare I? I don't really know.
I just don't really know. I mean, fuck. I know I'm not perfect. I stopped trying to be a long time ago. But is imperfect allowed to span airing dirty laundry about ones former relationship? Fuck. Questions.
Thinking about this makes me supremely uncomfortable right now. I don't think I'm ready to write this right now. But I will. Soon. I think.
I'll be back.