It Has Come To My Attention....(Polyamory I)

That the quagmire of polyamory, which I have hinted at here and there, but not yet addressed full-on, needs to be explored here. Now.

I met someone a week ago who is an party/conference/event acquaintance, who "confessed" that they have found my Blog and read it. It was exciting to me because neither of us could quite figure out where or how they had found this, they aren't a person that I had notified, and probably followed a link somewhere...anyway it seemed exciting that this bulgy little monster is just out there wreaking havoc on its own, without my nurturing. I had a little image in my mind of a cluster of dots connected by lines super-imposed on the city, with more lines and dots popping up on the borders, forming a little web. I'm sure either some telephone company ad back from when I watched TV, or tribe.net back from when I did tribe put that image in my head.

So we were talking about the blog, blah blah, and they mentioned that my quest seemed fairly unique in this particular ven diagram slice of subcultures, and I was bitching a bit about how uncool it seemed to actively be seeking out a committed partnership amongst my "demographic", and then they said

"Well, yeah, you know, everyone seems to be poly and so I imagine that's pretty hard."

Woah, woah, woah. Hold on, buckaroo. Who said I wasn't poly?

I was grateful for the feedback, because if on somewhat casual perusal it is not clear that I have a vested interest in polyamory, then my message is as good as lost. So to clear things up:

I WANT A POLYAMOROUS, "OPEN", AND/OR OTHERWISE SEXUALLY UNCONVENTIONAL MARRIAGE!!!

Now to convolute them again (and the reason I've been avoiding writing this post): what does that mean, exactly *to me*?

Well shit. Like most things I'm interested in, that's complicated.

I'll start with some stats:
I've been practicing polyamory for about 8 years now. That's been about 3.5 major primary partnerships, 4 major dates/almost partners, and a plethora of 'secondary' and 'tertiary' relationships (see aside). Plus the casual sex. Let's not forget the casual sex.

Aside: By the way, while my heart is organized in both expansive communist terms as well as a hierarchical caste (always *and* over *or*), I kind of hate the language of numbered relationship status. This organizational system is not of my choosing, its just how it seems to be, but I'm always working on opening and expanding all the rooms in my bloody mansion. ( Like the Winchester House, may it never be finished!) 'Primary' I can deal with, it's simple, and the point, if not the protocol, gets across. Beyond that it just sounds to me like deflating people's worth and value in your life, making them 'less than' which I don't dig, semantically.


I am designed in such a way that I seem to have the most and fulfillment with dating, casual sex, and play partners when I am in a solid, loving, strong partnership. It is the place from which my magic is strongest. I am very grateful to have gotten to the point where I feel that I can focus when appropriate and expand when able and generally act according to my integrity with a little wiggle room for learning and practice. I don't make the mistakes I made 6 years ago, and I hope you don't either. I manage to spit out what I need to even if its still a little scary. I enjoy doing things in the right order if given the option. I have been both overwhelmed with socio-sexual activity and very alone, so I have some perspective and a great reverence for the idea of things happening when the time is right.

I don't feel the pressure or the FOMO (fear of missing out) that I once did, at least, not often. I will not apologize for my emotional structure, just keep looking for someone(s) who fits it well. I am not perfect, but I try damn hard.

My new rule: No Shenanigans. If something feels, looks, smells even a little bit fishy, chances are these days I won't do it. It isn't appealing anymore, not even in that sexy-risky, well I'll take my chances sort of way. Negotiation is hot. Honesty is hot. Consent is hot. Clarity-hot. Knowing no one will freak out or cry or get pissed or feel full of regret later is hot. Talking to all involved to be sure, if possible, is hot. I can get plenty of risky/dangerous/scary hotness once all of those other things have been taken care of, there are endless places and things and ideas to play with to make things crazy enough to be sexy without breaking someones heart, getting someone sick or fucking someone over. These things will all still happen plenty without my help. Life isn't safe, and sex and love are most certainly not, but I'm not interested in these kinds of dangers, I'd rather balm this kind of pain. Lying, forgetting, omitting, not asking, doing it anyway, not being able to help oneself....not hot.

Except in roleplay.


Basically at this point I want a poly partner who can respect and follow thee spirit of the law, rather than the letter of the law. Someone who can vibe out the appropriateness of a situation *on top of* being a kick-ass communicator who is not afraid to ask or share or inquire about the possibly scary stuff, actually, who maybe very afraid but will fucking do it anyway. Someone who has had practice shaping their actions to their ideals and their promises. Someone who doesn't lie and doesn't omit, unless it has been negotiated that that is appropriate. Someone who will give me enough time, attention and space to fall in love, to feel that I am important, respected, a priority, and to get jealous if it happens and also to get over it.

Someone who understands that hard feelings are hard to have and that neither of us enjoys feeling crazy, and in fact we aren't. Someone who is committed enough to be willing to have periods of temporary monogamy if things are particularly rough. Someone who loves fun and play and is also fine refraining if appropriate. Someone to gang up on others with. Someone who can tell me how they really feel and work with me to help them get what they need. Someone who understands and works with the ideas of accountability and consequences- both fun and easy and harder and rougher.

Someone truly committed to respect, honesty, effort, pleasure and trust, and who knows and understands that mistakes happen but the real test is in doing the work to make up for the mistake or misunderstanding and re-establish intimacy and trust.

Someone who knows that there often isn't as much a single truth to these feelings and experiences as there is an individual truth, and that people all have different triggers and different things that don't bother them a whit. Someone who feels that that personal landscape of needs is more important than some super-imposed structure from the outside.

Someone who will encourage and nurture my sexual witch and adventurer, and who will bloom and expand and rejoice themselves in ways that fulfill them and help our relationship flourish. Someone who likes making crazy good sexy stories happen with me.

Someone who gets that being well informed with prompt timing is really important to me. They won't tell me that is doesn't make sense or isn't ideal, they'll just get that that's what matters to me.

Someone who looks forward to figuring out, together, what dreams and practices will work best for us.

Yes, I need a lot of attention. Yes I am passionate. No, I don't do well with indifference or apathy. Yes I sometimes get jealous and yes, if treated well, I can get over it. Yes, there are some lovers that I am never jealous of or have low emotional expectations of, but no, my wife is not likely amongst them. Yes, I am committed to addressing and working past and dealing with jealousy when it arises. Yes, I appreciate other's jealousy more than their denial of it, though very mellow people are awesome and inspiring. Yes I deal better with vulnerability than acting out in others. Yes, change can be difficult. Yes I give a lot. No, I am not willing to settle, be consistently treated unfairly, or stay somewhere if it's unclear I am important, desired and respected. Yes, I understand we are all humies, and how frail and ridiculous and sad and scary that can be sometimes. Yes, I also see the glory in it (but am always interested in being shown more!) Yes, this sounds like a lot of work, though for the might person it may be fairly organic, smooth, easy; hopefully we are at similar places of values, ability, understanding and needs.

And yes, yes yes! the point is fun and joy and pleasure and fulfillment!




P.S. Thanks 'V' for being my "beta tester"!

Best Xmas Ever!

At the old BDSM dungeon/queer sorority/house of pancakes, there was a magnet on the fridge that I'll always remember. It was just a quotation from Tallulah Bankhead which said "It's the good girls who keep diaries; the bad girls never have the time." It always struck me as very true, whenever I had all of the intriguing plot devices of my life working, I never wanted to stop and record them, but if I was lonely or lamenting or procrastinating unpleasant or difficult tasks, suddenly I found I could write again. The quotation always made me feel a little proud, a little guilty, a little absolved and a little sad. This week has been a perfect example of not feeling able to take the time to write because ever since the solstice I have been in a great mood and busy and having lots of fun. Let me just take a minute to note how nice it is after this year of valley and then brief shining peak and then more fucking chilly valley, to just feel good and happy and fun for no particular reason (though of course the new bed magic, solstice, my horoscope, the new "Lighten Up" tincture I've been taking, creating a fun and loving space with my chosen family for holidays, etc. have I'm sure all done their part). It's like being able to breathe deeply again after not realizing you've been holding your breath.

So here's the brief, crucial elements, best xmas ever break-down:
1. Food-prep with the ever diligent and tolerant and sweet and fun Marko, the low point being when all of our lovely pierogies stuck together in one big mush pile, which quickly turned into a gleeful monstrosity mutant pierogi mother which was boiled all together and threatened to be forced upon Rev. Dr. Splashy Pants to eat in one sitting whilst we cheered him on. Marko brought Slavic music and was a delight to cook with, though I fear I may have over-worked him. Hopefully he will call me back soon.

2. Wigilia party! Wow, it just felt amazing to share a part of my heritage and family tradition with a bunch of lovely freaks. It made me so happy and was very touching and everyone seemed to love the food and have a good time, even participating in the wafer tradition and eating all the "Sledzie" (herring marinated in oil and onions) which I was sure no one would eat. I wore a fancy red velvet dress stolen from my sister and Pee-wee slippers given me by my mother. Kilo showed up and fried fish like a fish-frying master and people brought non-Polish food (you could tell it wasn't Polish because it was green) and everyone looked great. I got lots of beautiful loving friend time, some gifts and hugs and new-bed cuddles. The whole thing made me so happy.

3. Party at Tricksie's house. A real, old-fashioned, hot-young-people, holiday pleasure fest. So much food. Plenty of drunks (but not too-drunks.) Mistletoe and lapdances (ok, I started the lapdances). The Rolling Stones and Gremlins and Muppet's a Christmas Carol. Special non-alky egg nog made just for me. Queers and straights and hipsters and weirdos. Kissing and cuddles. Lots of laughter and a beautiful tree. A festive new mocktail created by Chris: a peppermint candy in a glass of chilled tonic water. Party time into the morning.

4. Unexpected lovely mistletoe/party payoff: Santa brought me sex!
Super sweet and fun! Hooray!

5. Waking up in the afternoon to this text message: " I got engaged!", from a Baltimore number. Tiredly fumbling through my numbers, deciding if it was my sister or beloved ex, I would loose my shit, but if it was my other friend and former date, I would be ok. Good friend and former date it is! Holy shit! One of those moments of "Oh yeah! Here it begins! A big ole new phase of life events starting in my little world!" (Perhaps a fortuitous sign for our wife-bent heroine?) Many congratulations to Erica!

6. Pie and sparkling cider with pomegranate juice for breakfast. Calling the family, everyone is happy. (Benefit of calling the family over being on the family's couch during this time of year.) I totally forgot that I also get presents! A slow and leisurely progression towards 16th street. The streets are so quiet and calm, the Mission feels like a ghost town and it's glorious.

7. 16th St. giant backyard TRAMPOLINE party! Snacks and queers and silly dancing! Wearing my new beret and a mustache. Sexy Madlibs! Trampoline!!!!

8. Sweeney Todd! Too sexy to criticize except to say that the vocal track wasn't loud enough during the songs, but knifeplay and blood and Johnny and Helena! ACK! So exciting. Probably a poor movie, but too exciting. Dark theater groping. Cheering for the mental patients.

9. Finally home and a very sweet gift exchange with Rev. Dr. Splashy Pants. New Leatherman, AWESOME! Bonding and dozing during Cry Baby (double Depp?! Hellz yeah!) reminding us of our homeland and bizarro roots. Finally plodding off to new bed cozy sleep.


More dates for this week, one pseudo, two real. It's exciting to be happy and feel real and in touch with pleasure in some deeper way again.

Not to mention the leftover Barszcz.
(And to all the non-Poles, just because "uszka" means 'little ears', doesn't mean they're not vegetarian. )

Merry Happy Joy and Love to everyone. Sleep well and warmly, I wish you much peace.

Happy Solstice and the Boon of a New Solstice Bed!

Word on the street has it that no one can quite get it up for the Holidays this year. I feel like I've felt the least prepared and most apathetic about all the big holidays (*my* big holidays) and whatnot this year of any years in recent memory. I am both a date/holiday oriented and gifty lady. Anniversaries, monthaversaries, Halloween, Dios de los Muertos, Pride, Folsom, the Solstices and Equinoxes, they tend to mean a lot to me. I tend to be a very present-giving person, for no or special occasions, I love giving presents and take great joy in finding the things that seem to already belong to their recipients. Birthdays are especially big deals in my heart and mind, I think I might have gotten that from my dad, but I have sometimes thought that if I could spend my life making sure people had happy, exciting, fulfilling birthdays, I could be happy. But this year feels pretty off, and it feels like as far as presents and planning go, since August I've just lost my touch and also kind of don't care.

I decided going back to Baltimore at holiday time isn't healthy for me, which felt like a good, strong, self-care type of decision until I panicked and realized that as a now single person, that might mean I end up mostly alone on a holiday I don't really care about, but very much do want to feel loved on. So I decided to cook my dad's traditional Polish Catholic xmas eve dinner, 'Wigilia', and invite people over. Now I am cursing myself for always having to make things so complicated.

Solstice is my holiday of choice, it speaks the most to me, yet this year I have nothing too exciting or special planned besides trying to get ready for everything else. Last year I went with two friends to Pt. Reyes area, went hiking and saw scores of elk. I was supposed to be in Baltimore and my friend Matt was supposed to be in Seattle, but thanks to the storms in Colorado we were both still here. It was magical. This year: well we'll see.

My incredibly hot date for yesterday got cancelled. I was both bummed and relieved. Bummed because the girl is incredible and becoming a friend, and much fun (which is important for me now, my horoscope even said so) was sure to be had by all. Relieved because of all the stupid holiday stuff it gave me time to do. As it was I finished wrapping my family presents, to be delivered by my friend Josh, who is also native to Baltimore, at midnight. However, given the choice for less stress and more time or hot date with nice girl who is not potential wifey but an excellent date, I would've chosen the date.

Update: I just got a new mattress and boxspring delivered, my Solstice present from my mother. And suddenly the day does feel full of magic. It is a good omen and a sign for the future. My old mattress was terrible for my body, I got it when my last big love's roommates moved out of his apartment. I've lain on it through at least three heartbreaks, and dreamt in it since before I got sober. It's felt the weight of numerous lovers; some wonderful joyous additions to my life and some unsound, hurtful choices and many who seemed to be one and then turned to the other. It has four years of unhealthy body and difficult emotions seeped into it. It was thin and broken and low quality.

The new bed feels like it will treat me right as well as be incredibly pleasurable to sleep and lie in, and I think that when we make moves to invite those aspects into our lives in one, in this case, very tangible way, they often tend to be attracted to us in others as well. The Esteemed Astrologist confirmed my long-time suspicion that I need more sleep than most people: 9-10 hours a night. Spending that much time, alone or with lovers in an unhealthy, janky environment versus a supportive and sweet one is bound to make a huge difference. Plus it's even higher off the ground than my old mattress, which will make my bed that much more princessified. Whee! I plan to do a ritual on it soon, to welcome in positive energy and influences, to invite it to attract healthy lovers who do right by me, and to welcome the coming of the light.


From my pre-Wigilia shopping trip yesterday:

So I was that person again, today. The one in the grocery store, fighting back tears. I started to sing "For Today I am a Boy" by Anthony and the Johnsons to myself while I was looking for all the fixins' of the traditional Polish Catholic xmas eve dinner, Wigilia, and all of the sudden my face felt like a swollen sponge and the tears began their welling. Well, then I had to ask one of the kindly Rainbow Grocery Co-Operative workers where the canned/jarred beets are (answer: there aren't any) and my voice was all shaky and he gave me this strange "it's ok, they're only beets" kind of look. I scurried into the housewares aisle and choked down a few silent sobs and kind of laughed to myself, wondering how many people ever feel like bursting into tears for no apparent reason except just the ambient pain and sorrow of loving and living, in the middle of the grocery store.

I seem to be that person a lot. Sometimes I think it's my reflexive emotional revolt against being in large institutional type structures with lots of people who know and for the most part play by the rules. Aundi and I once discussed how any large room with aisles or fluorescent lights gave us the immediate visceral impulse to poop, and I bet the cows lining up for the killing floor feel the same way. Or maybe it's just that Rainbow is such a open, wholesome (albeit expensive) nurturing kind of atmosphere, that similar to the therapist's office it inspires a freeing of emotions, one of the co-op members might even come over with a earthen cup of filtered water and put their arm around your shoulder until you could shop on your own again. I certainly wasn't about to weep half an hour before in Trader Joe's. (San Francisco is a city unsympathetic to beet needs that aren't met by a fresh bunch of organic bulbs, at least amongst the fancy "socially-conscious" grocery options. Pickled herring neither. I get the feeling there aren't an overwhelming number of Poles or Jews out here, at least not until the Richmond. I will continue the Slavic search tomorrow.)

Though I remember experiencing the intense desire to dive into a pile of fluffy new towels and throw a little fit once at Nordstrom's Rack a couple of months ago, and that is anything but a sympathetic atmosphere. Or maybe "For Today I am a Boy" just always makes me cry (which is true) and I've been on the verge for days now anyway. There is another song that keeps trying to pop into my head which would just obliterate me, so in harm reduction fashion, I opt for sudden tears over complete loosing-my-shit devastation. I don't really feel like blaming the Holidays, I feel like they can take responsibility for pretty much everything else. I left Rainbow after about 35 minutes, with only three items, costing $11. But I'm fine with that.


Today I woke up with Postal Service, which I don't even like but find occasionally heart-wrenching none the less, in my head. But it was ok, not as charged as the music in my head of yesterday. Also, I painted yesterday, for my mother's present, with a new (to me) technique I saw used in the Sigur Ros movie 'Heima' which is just using the ink dropper from India Ink directly on the paper. It made me feel good, like "oh yeah, sometimes I really am an artist." And now I'm finally in a festive Solstice mood, with They Might Be Giants (which is always good because it is *my* music, connected to ex's of long ago, sure, but both the Giants and Talking Heads feel like my core of tunes, listening to them gives me the feeling of "this doesn't have to be about you, its just about me") singing me and my new bed into the afternoon.

2 Pseudo-dates and the Importance of Symbolism

Two pseudo dates, one per day, today and tomorrow. I doubt either of these lovely women are my wife-to-be, but one never knows. And not every pursuit in life must be a means to an ultimate end. Especially not for me.

Let it be known that I am trying, however, and also really appreciate it when people hit on me in a cute and friendly way, and will often go out at least once with them because I think that type of behavior should get positive feedback.


Update! First pseudo-date successfully completed and actually so successful that it turned into a real date! Of course she found this page directly after the date, causing me to e-scream in embarrassment and panic. (It's always such a strange and conflicted line between the overwhelming urge for exhibitionistic, bare-all spew and the painfully self-conscious, highly mortified realization that other people can actually see me. Pema Chodron calls this something like "the overwhelming embarrassment of being me". So far, my only explanation is that its really easy for me to both imagine only the vague concept of the audience and attention I want and forget that my work is available and accessible to actual humies. ) And then, all of the sudden other offers are coming in as well. Perhaps as Tim Kreider says, "I think this time things are really going to turn around." Stay tuned for the possibility of against all odds, everything actually turning up Milhaus.

I was having a conversation with my friend Aundi, who is an excellent poet, working on her Master's in poetry in England (see links at bottom of page), about the importance of symbolism in both of our lives. It's one of my most intimate and heart-felt languages, and to me is tied to my sense of magic and spirituality as well as my narrative-based literary sensibility and my belief in dialectic processes. My best connections and partnerships have had respect and some understanding of the value and meaning of symbolism in my life, and I really cherish and appreciate those with a similar way of moving through and with the world, an affinity towards the scenic route of meaning, belief, correlation and understanding.

Re: symbolism, Aundi said : it's way too outside what's cool presently

it's nice I think. to have. it's like having peripheral vision on a grander scale

I wouldn't trade it to be any cooler

for shiz

Gotta love that, a lovely, insightful metaphor followed with "for shiz". She and I speak similarly that way sometimes.

Which brings up the question of 'woo' (otherwise known as "woo-woo", "the woo", "that hippie shit", etc.) which has a long and convoluted answer in my life. To try to make it simple, which is rarely my gift, I believe in esoterica, but not all of it, I appreciate an awareness and respect for non-tangible energies, though not when used as a mask for true intention or a tool for manipulation, and I think that logic and rationality are just two shades of a full spectrum of truth and understanding. I appreciate pluralities in modalities and perspectives although I often feel in didactic extremes.

While the value of symbolism is as often intellectual as emotional or spiritual (maybe there need be no hard distinction) it affects my thoughts and feelings and influences my behavior and view on the world daily. Both my parents are scientists and I believe in and value science, as well as emotional intelligence, multiple truths, omens, spiritual rituals, astrology (to an extent), psychic insights (also to an extent), karma, ghosts (because its fun), Goddesses and Gods (because it improves my enjoyment of life and myself), old medicine, witches, magic spells , synchronicity, dreams, and intuition. I see the world a little bit like a muti-dimensional puzzle, and sometimes connective pieces or clues can be analyzed and understood through one framework or set of tools and sometimes another fits better or makes things clearer. Often I feel strongly the sense that something is being shown but I don't know yet how to decode it. In the end, the majority of my beliefs are most strongly based on what seems like the most pleasurable, interesting, helpful, reassuring, fun, and true-feeling options I've encountered or can come up with. I also hold onto and cultivate beliefs which support me to act in ways that are in keeping with my sense of integrity. (i.e. I believe in karma and I believe in spells, so I don't cast spells intended to harm or do anything negative to anyone or anything else.)

Wow, so reading all that, I guess I sound pretty woo, at least for someone who grew up in Baltimore I sound pretty woo to me. But its a discerning woo, a selective woo, a patchwork woo that works for me without making me feel spacey or irresponsible or crazy or self-destructive/aggrandizing or inaccessible or overly out-of-touch or vulnerable to exploitation or too judgemental. My woo does often spark my curiosity and inspiration, console and make me feel better, and get my creativity, compassion, playfulness and sense of humor about myself flowing.

But beyond that, my mind likes making connections, so much so that sometimes really good ones give it the feeling of soft honeyed many-fingered ripples of delight tickling my brain. (I had that experience recently while reading 'Lolita', man, that Nabokov can write! English isn't even his first language! For whatever reason, the Poe references at the beginning of the book, especially before they get overly overt, tickled me gleefully.) And when those connections come in real life surprises, well-formed coincidences, evocative imagery, ironic mysteries and powerful symbols, I have no interest in denying myself the innate pleasure and intrigue and wonder that engulfs my body/mind and spirit.

So, a potential wifey would not, one would hope, find this crazy, or insufferable, or stupid, or silly ( a little silly is ok, silly rarely means to hurt anyone) or ridiculous or too high-faluttin or too uneducated or anything but somewhat weird (no qualms with that as long as its not seen in a derogatory light), maybe not totally in keeping with her beliefs, though adding a depth to my interest and involvement with the world as well as a useful, compelling and entertaining resource.

Whew, once again, more spew than I expected. I feel a little blushingly embarrassed again with outing all of that in one place, like I should don a witch hat and go do some Tantric breathing exercises with another spiritual being having a human experience while drinking colloidal gold at Cafe Gratitude. Truthfully, I would do all of the things in the sentence I just wrote, but all at once would be too much for me. Hopefully my next post will explain more about my serious hard-core no bullshit edge to balance this out, if I can find it.

No, really, could you love *THIS* person?

I figure, if we're going to be wed, you should see this ahead of time.












Today, I am full of hateful rage.




Also, Irene told me to tell any prospective wives out there that if we have a date I won't blog about it. Apparently that's what she would be worried about. So I promise I won't beyond saying "I had a nice date" or some such, unless you say you want me to, which I understand is unlikely. Don't worry about the hateful rage, it's not that frequent (except this year.)

Fucking Christmas music does not help.

*This post in honor of Ben Knoll.*

And another thing......(Blog as Agitprop?)

Speaking of the whole "spread the wed" deal, it is not only my own eternal connubial joy that is at stake here. Oh, no. If it were only lowly I, longing for lissome be-ringed hands to smooth my wrinkle brow (so far there's just the one), my singular nuptial fate resting on your e-whims, well then that would be one thing. A mere trifle, my quest seems perhaps, unworthy of sending a hyper-linked email to your fantastic, smoking-hot, single, whips-and-tentacle-loving lady friend. Yes, me, I would understand, we are all busy people in a difficult world.

But wait! Destiny weaves for the bloggers and blogless alike! Would you dare to cruelly dash the hopes and dreams of my sultry, ravenous, lust-and-domestic-bliss-engorged compatriots!?

I should hope not.

Because you see, Sadie Lune Wants a Wife is bigger than you... Or me... Or my intermittently expansive loneliness... Or perhaps even Valencia Street.

This mission cannot, nay, *mustn't*fail!

You see, already twos and as many as three of my friends have gazed into the future and seen, (oh happy day!), seen the time when SLWaW bears luscious, bottom-shaped fruit. And apparently the day after I secure my wild-eyed wifey, that is when I start selflessly using my Vernian contraption to pimp for them.

Can you hear it? Through the mists of time, the clarion call? Sounding like someone asking for the thousandth time if the dishes are clean or dirty? The cry of SLWaW goes forth on behalf of my comrades, to lure like lemmings to a sweet, pussy-lined cliff, all of the partners and sweeties and perma-dates and husbutches that dance and share and acquiesce and "make it all better" in the dreams of my friends.

Only a body with no heart could abandon this community of love-seekers! Let my kind and tolerant friends sleep not alone! My conjugal triumph spells possibility for the date-less and under-dated! Prove to the world that this is just crazy enough to work! Lend a hand to those asking for one!

Shout it from the rooftops, if you must: A vote for Sadie Lune Wants a Wife is a Vote for Mates for All*!






*(who want them)

Nothing's Wrong With Me

Over dinner S and I discussed women, as we almost always do. She's got a major double-breakup on her hands (ah the joys of polyamory!) and I'm still dampened and dripping from my recent split. We discussed our relationship patterns and the ease or lack thereof of finding new partners, after. She mentioned something she's said before, that for almost 10 years, despite plenty of relationship difficulties, she's never had much of a dry-spell. I haven't been nearly so lucky, despite the common mis-perception that I am some sort of gondolier on the deep river of sexuality, my long pole always wet. This led me off to "the bad place" for a minute, trying to come up with reasons to explain my occasional difficulties finding dates. The first thing that popped into my head was "is it because I'm a sex worker or is it my facial chain?" Then I remembered my sobriety (will be 2 years as of Jan 1st) and how much less inclined many people are for a fun fuck, much less dating, without the aid of substances. (In fact I recently had a paranoid pondering that my recent ex probably enjoys dates with her other date more because she can consume without worrying about how I'll feel about it, I doubt this is true, but....)

Just yesterday a preferred client and I had an interesting conversation about the disconnect between how we feel inside and how we are perceived by the outside world. I constantly get the feedback that people are less likely to approach me because I am intimidating. Unless I've got a singletail in my hand or I'm barking off a street harasser, I rarely feel intimidating, more like a big squishy pile of leaking-heart mush. But I understand that my height and stature (5'10", big enough to notice), can intimidate alone, and when my loud and frequently used voice is added to many of the subjects I am known to spout about, I end up taking a lot of space. I can see that being intimidating, even while my internal little lamb-self demurely blinks in the corner. I've decided that if I'm going to be seen as intimidating whether or not I consent, I might as well own it and capitalize on my intimidation (for good!).

After S and I debated the relative weirdness of my facial chain to say, being a big ol' goth,(since she claimed that sex work wasn't visually apparent on me when walking down the street, though I'm not so sure) I figured out that it wasn't really the weirdness that mattered, it was whether or not it was a deterrent. We agreed that was something we couldn't know. I mean, obviously its a deterrent to some people, but we're talking anybody in whom I would be remotely interested. And then it dawned on me; it's not the chain, it's not my work, and it's not 'cuz I'm a teetotaler. I may seem intimidating sometimes, sure, but that's not what's wrong with me. I used to be positive that I was too much of a slob to love, but I know a number of folks with several simultaneous, loving, committed, long-term relationships whose homes make my room look like a zen center.

One thing I've learned recently is that people aren't generally into "perfect", it often makes them feel bad about themselves, unless they perceive themselves to be close to perfect or enjoy a heavily skewed power dynamic in their relationships (the classic 'young ingenue in love with the very successful, skilled and powerful older person' comes to mind). I would venture that what most people are really attracted to in terms of partner material is someone who seems to be at around the same level as themselves, or depending on their relationship to power, a little bit "higher" or a little bit "lower" as far as what they view as progress and success in life. People tend to commit to people that are similar in lifestyle, values, and "success" and an idea that they can grow in like or complementary ways in the future.

So, in fact, there's nothing wrong with me. It's just not as easy as one, or more pertinently, I, would like to get the attention and relationships I want, exactly when I want them. It's not because I'm inapproachable, or crazy or too weird; plenty of socially awkward, crazy-ass weirdos are happily partnered. It's just not easy, and sometimes it seems that knowing what I really want, and being less and less willing to settle for something unhealthy or unsupportive of my dreams, while simultaneously maintaining my commitment to flexibility, open-heartedness and deep, intimate loving, makes it just that much less easy. (The run-ons might not be helping, either. )And frankly, I tend to get most things I want within 2-5 years, but that can be hard to remember in the slow-moving meantime. But that's ok, because this way I get to figure out how to really love myself, making it easier and more likely for someone else to follow suit, and I get to have room for something and somebody super swell when the time is right.

Can you tell I went to a hippie retreat in Oregon, recently? Hey man, that shit worked. Loving myself is going pretty well. Check it out: Heart of Now

Oh, and S suggested I post this picture of me from Paul Reubens Day '06. She assured me it would pull the wifeys to me like a polygamist magnet!