Month: January 2020

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Remember that writing is to put love in the world, not to use against your friends.

Harriet the Spy


I’m going to go ahead and nip this in the bud, because I’ve had this sentiment twisted against me whenever I speak up about something. Because some folks have it in their head that putting love in the world is to never, ever, speak of the bad things.


Don’t mention the pain you have to deal with. It’s not nice. It kills the mood.


Don’t upset your allies. They mean well, right? Even if they repeatedly fuck up and hurt you because they don’t listen.


How can you be putting love into the world by causing so much strife?


how can you


how can you


How dare you call me out?


Because I must.


I’m not going against you when I say that you hurt me. If anything, I’m with you. Rooting for you. Because you can do better. If anything, I’m doing more than putting love into the world. I’m protecting it, and helping it grow.


So, if anyone dares to twist that beautiful quote, I counter with this:


If I love you, I have to make you conscious of the things you don’t see.

James Baldwin

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The thread began with the usual curiosity from a monogamous person: “can you truly find happiness with multiple people?” But it was a passing comment on a forum jarred me out of my browsing:


“Polyamory is such a fad.” Even without voice, I could feel the tone and implications I’m all too familiar with, now.


I know some people just aren’t geared for non-monogamy, and that is okay. But still, I could not let that go unchallenged. For in my experience, a “fad” is a snide comment for anything that gains popularity due to more people exploring and becoming aware of new possibilities.


My sexuality was “just a fad.”


My gender identity is “just a fad.”


And the newest fad, evidently, is polyamory. They say some things come in threes.


And their comments continued, to paraphrase: It’s nothing to take seriously, because it’s so easy. You’re just playing until you find that one person to be your everything. Until then, you can just go to the next person like they’re nothing. You’re not really happy. You can’t be.


And I definitely did not let that slide.


This is hard fucking work.


You have to constantly check in with yourself as you deprogram from monogamous habits and deal with blindspots, insecurities, and time management. You have to confront your bullshit. You have to unpack the how’s and why’s of what you’re feeling. That is hard enough on its own, but you also have to field the outside static of potential abuse. Discomfort may be growth, but to borrow from Eve Rickert: never ignore your pain.


That is, if you want to go about it as healthy and ethically as possible.


And none of this happens overnight. Especially if you had no role models to follow and had to make the same mistakes others have before you. Then make a few of your own as you adapt to your particular life.


I had to be horribly honest with myself. Even scarier, I had to be honest with others.


So, yeah, I’m a little touchy when someone disregards the hard work upon myself as a mere “fad.”


If anyone tells you that any form of non-monogamy is “a cakewalk,” they’re either in denial or trying to sell you something or they’re looking for a third.


Sure, I could pour myself into one single person but that wouldn’t be fulfilling to me and ultimately unfair for them to be My Everything for Possibly Forever. And that’s valid.


You may feel differently and that’s valid too.


But neither one of us is a “fad.”

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Throwback Thursday: a note on Feb 5, 2018.


Fang: [Vanille]’s a crybaby, though! She cries as soon as she gets lonely or insecure. But if I stroke her head, she stops as if nothing is wrong.

Lebreau: In that case, you’ll need to find her quickly and pat her on the head.

Fang: Yup.

Final Fantasy XIII


I keep saying I need to get back to journaling, or at least blogging,
because I’ve been through a ton of emotions and trying to process them
is a delightful and horrifying blur. Part of it is just me being me, and
part of it is because I rewatched Star Wars: The Last Jedi and seeing
Carrie Fisher up there sets off a deluge.


That, and.


I’m surrounded by people that not only like me, but a few also love me. And even a few more that want to spend time with me.


And each connection is something different.


And some connections are still here, still loving me.


That, and.


I’m still broken, and I’m still fucking up, and I still hear the
voice in my head telling me that people will stop loving me the moment
they realize how broken I am, or. They’re going to discard me the
instant I make one mistake because that’s happened so many times


but the voice is… manageable. Sometimes. More, sometimes.


That, and.


I’m recognizing the voice’s tricks. Sometimes, it doesn’t help much. But there’s power to naming and recognizing something.


That, and.


I’ve been healing in interesting ways. But it’s been slow. It’s been
clumsy. I’m sorry. I’ve changed. I don’t really know me from before. I’m
an echo.


That, and.


I’m overdue for a good cry, actually.


That, and.


I wonder if– no, when, as it’s been predicted, if you believe in that sort of thing– I’ll start using my gills, too. I do when I have to. I still come up for air.


But. (“Strike that. Reverse it.”)


I dive instead, and refuse to come up for hours. And sometimes I can’t I’m this fragile fish that’ll melt if I get too close to the surface.


That, and.


I want to try everything everything everything though my shy soul balks the entire time. As shy souls do. Xie’ll let me know when I’m (not) ready.


That, and.


I’m contradictions and multitudes, damn it. Yet I still exist. And I am valid. Gills and lungs. I love the shore. I will go to it. I adore the deep, too. I’ll go back to it.


That, and.


#RoseWasRight. Sometimes the best thing you can do is survive. Pray someone swoops in and knocks you out of the way because you are more than a sacrifice.


That, and.


I could use a pat on the head right now. But I’m in solitude, for I need to rest and heal. Listening to my body. Surviving.


I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking.


But I’ll come up for air in a few days.


You can pat me on the head then, and I’ll pat yours.

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https://youtu.be/DkulwLg_u8w


It’s weird to wake up not knowing who you are. You do all this stuff, you enjoy these things, yet you still wake up wondering what your “thing” is.


And in a strange show of wanting to feel included, you leave hints that you’d like to be invited to the next thing. Because you’re still questing as to what, exactly, your “thing” consists of. Maybe that’ll be it.


You’re still reeling from those years stuck in a rut– “becalmed” if you want to be romantic about it– because you have a quiet fear that the things you enjoyed then were only crutches to keep you alive to the next day. Or worse, things you needed to outgrow because you’re a Real Adult now. With like, a house with utility bills and everything.


You know that you’re lonely. That you need to be vulnerable again, to reach out. You also know that your hobbies are valid and just need dusting off. And you know damn well you need to get out of the house and not just for errands.


You know what you’re lacking. You need more dates. More people time. More people time that doesn’t end with sex. More music. More conversations. More stories to tell. More dreams to witness. More parks to visit. More prompts.


And yet. It’s 2am and you can’t sleep; you don’t want to. Because it’s just job and eat and sleep and repeat and clinging a little too hard because you feel unanchored without a “thing” and you’re jealous that they got a “thing” they stumbled upon and you were too chickenshit to forge bonds of/on your own.


Or you’re scared your “things” are so niche that you’ll enjoy them alone, not in content solitude but in loneliness-by-circumstance because there’s no one else interested to share them with. So you hope for an invite, and go along, and even if you end up not liking it you learned one more thing about yourself.


You fear you’ll always be the tag-along. In spite of your knee-jerk bitterness and resolve to just traverse the event alone, if you have to, because of course the meetup party couldn’t wait for you… you just want to feel included.


So. I don’t know what my “thing” is. If I have one. Or maybe I have many.


And how much of this is me, and how much of it is just things I picked up just because I happened to be there? Is there even a difference? Does it really matter?


I suppose there’s only one way to find out.

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NOTE: I’ll just go ahead and schedule this one for tomorrow. This is the stuff y’all really care about, right?! 😉 Happy New Year.

Yep. Make that dating apps. But over this weekend by the time entry is posted, I’ll be reducing said apps to two.

I realize that I am trying too hard.

I also realize that dating apps probably just aren’t for me. The few connections I made were with people I already knew (or, in a few cases, I met a good few years ago). Perhaps I have astronomically bad luck at meeting new people online, but I’ve the conclusion that I should just stick to the circles I’m already in. And if I do branch out, put a lot more emphasis on doing that in meatspace.

But here’s the part y’all really care about: what apps did I actually use?

OKCupid is the classic, the oldest, and my most verbose. I put a lot of work into my essays and 200 questions answered. And there’s so many memories associated with it. Few of them good… I’ve received some weird messages back in ’09.

The second most popular app is Tinder, which I got banned from before I got a really good feel for it. But from what I hear (and by that I mean look over a partner’s shoulder and offer peanut-gallery-style snark), I’m actually not missing much other than FOMO. The Swipe High is real, y’all. So let’s go to the alternatives I was mostly on instead:

The first kinder, gentler Tinder everyone thinks of is Bumble. There’s different modes between dating, friendship, and business; women can "make the first move" by sending the initial message. And there’s bee themes. Cute! And then there’s Hinge: An even kinder, gentler Tinder with a relaxing font and rounded corners where you directly comment on a photo or writing prompt to start a conversation. That’s a good gimmick if you’re like me and always struggling with an opener. HER, however, will still have to be my favorite of these swipe-y apps. Yes, it’s that Lesbian Dating App you may have heard about. My second-oldest account is on HER when I wasn’t content with just hiding straight people (ok, straight men mostly) from my OKC profile. I’ve found it welcoming to transgender and gender-nonconforming folx.

While we’re on the topic of queer-focused apps, I’m thinking of Qutie: I suddenly remembered this existed. Think OKCupid, but for LGBTQ cuties. It’s a weird cross between OKC and Tinder-Swipeness. It couldn’t hold my attention long enough to really use it, though. I’ll try it again if I’m super bored.

A tool tip with different gender options: Male, Female, and non-binary. Two big red arrows also point to the text "You may check more than one box."

 

While OKC has come a long way to supporting non-monogamous relationships, but I’m always keeping an eye out for other ones that cater specifically to non-mono people, for that’ll be one less hurdle to deal with. #Open ("hashtag-Open") is one of the few dating apps specifically geared to non-monogamous people; there’s even a "pair" profile option for couples looking for a third. And I am so proud of them for doing this one little thing: THE GENDER OPTIONS ARE NOT BINARIST. I believe it defeats the purpose of having an extensive list of gender identities to choose from, but in the end it’s still funneled between only two binary choices: man or woman. So, kudos to #Open for not doing that!

But, it’s a ghost town. I guess we’re out here being polysaturated or putting our phones down in order to be present in the moment. 😉

And meanwhile, I wish Feeld had more traction; it’s geared for the more casual sex/swinger/hookup crowd and sometimes you’re just in the mood for that sorta thing. (Also potential kinky playdate shenanigans within the "Interests" and "Looking For" fields.) I didn’t have to be coy or polite and beat around the bush– "you know why we’re here"– but… I don’t think I have the gumption to pull off the whole hookup/swinger thing. On top of clashing with most swing culture (note to self, that’s a whole other post?), I find myself having conversations about tea and chiptunes instead of angling to get in someone’s pants. (But that still doesn’t stop me from browsing in the middle of the night…)

I’m weirdly loathe to actually delete my accounts, since I put so much work in them! But I uninstalled. All that remains is OKC, HER, and… Feeld. I was holding out for Hinge, but I believe the other party I was talking scifi with has figuratively left the building. Shit happens.

But it still feels pretty good, to not be weighted down by so many apps.

…

…Is there a dating app geared specifically for weird awkward nerds such as myself?