quizzical pussy

There are things I am good at.

I can find an orgasm in a bag of mediocre. I can give you goosebumps with my voice. I make the best brownies on the planet and my pumpkin pie is worth its weight in plutonium. My sense of style is irrepressible. I am a damn good person to have on your team because I’m loyal and giving and clever and awesome.

I’m enumerating all these positive things because it’s important to me you don’t think I’m just feeling sorry for myself when I say that I seriously suck at dating.

Because I seriously suck at dating.

Lately I keep meaning to date more. Mostly because I want to have more sex, but also because I feel like I finally have room in my life again for another partner. I’m not in a hurry to get into another relationship, but I’m more open to it now than I have been for a while. The only problem is that I suck at dating. And it’s kind of more stressful than it used to be now that I understand why.

I mean, I like meeting new people. I want to hang out and ride bikes with every kickass person who comes my way, and there are a lot of kickass people on this planet. And I’m not generally unlikeable, so it’s not like dating is like sopping up failure with biscuits or anything. But dating is incredibly frustrating because I’m not attracted to many people, which means that dates are awkward and ambiguous and I’m oblivious to woo. I’m forever assuming that the lack of attraction is mutual, and that usually isn’t true because duh, these people wanted to go on dates with me in the first place. In contrast, the only reason I’ll be on the date in the first place is because I enjoy someone’s personality, and have agreed to go along for the ride on the off chance attraction develops. Chemistry for me is so often more of a slow burn, and it seldom really catches. Even if I meet people in an expressly-for-dating website, I mostly end up wanting to be friends. I find that this is especially true with cis men (sorry cis men!)

This used to be mere triva. I don’t have to feel magically drawn to someone to be willing to experiment with them sexually. I have even had lengthy relationships with people I wasn’t particularly attracted to. I could tap into their attraction for me, or use the power of having many orgasms together, or mine a thorough understanding that a person was awesome and fetching, to cultivate an appreciation that compensated for visceral attraction. It took me a very long time, actually, to realize it wasn’t the same thing.

But having experienced a few connections involving deep, resonant, multi-leveled attraction, I’m sort of meh about doing it the old way. Which means that if I’m not fundamentally excited about people I just can’t get excited about people because they’re excited about me. Not anymore. Not in the same way I used to. I’m not saying that the attraction has to be compelling and immediate for me to want to explore a connection, but I’m starting to question the wisdom of totally ignoring my gut. True attraction is a very strange alchemy for me, and it’s worth studying.

Another problem with not being attracted to most people is that I basically never seem like I’m attracted to anyone. Even when I feel a pull, I’m mostly just nonplussed because it feels so alien. And I normally withdraw or get all bro-ish when I start realizing a person wants to get me naked. For some reason this makes me bad at flirting. Weird, right? And then when I do really like someone there’s this weird thing in my brain that keeps telling me that if I’m obvious about it my face will completely melt off my skull and, unrelatedly, no one will ever love me again.

So while I’m hypothetically totally open to dating, it’s a fussy proposition to implement on account of me being so fundamentally fucked up. I know there are people out there whom I can have brilliant, life-altering sex and relationships with. I know I’ll find some of them eventually. Whenever it happens, though, it’ll shock the hell out of me.

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Have you ever gotten a message from a guy on OkCupid and your immediate gut reaction was to send him the urban dictionary link for Nice Guy Syndrome?

One of these days I might do it, so help me.

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I can’t quarrel too vehemently with OkCupid because without it I may never have met Oren Regardie, and that would make me cranky, but I most commonly think of it as that place on the internet where I go to read mildly annoying things that are (theoretically) slightly more personalized than the sites I normally visit to read mildly annoying things.

According to my sophisticated survey data (research methods involved reading the Something Awful forums and talking to people who aren’t just me, OkCupid is not where you go to meet people you’re going to commit to; it’s where you find hookups. I wouldn’t be surprised if the relationship/casual fling ratio for all systems and brands of meeting one another was basically the same, but I’m aware of the following common taxonomy when it comes to meeting people online:

OkCupid: Used to order casual sex like delivery pizza. Yum.

Match.com: Normal¹ people who want to go on normal dates and form normal relationships.

Eharmony: Heterosexual Christian people who want to go on heterosexual Christian dates and form heterosexual Christian relationships.

Plenty of Fish: People you definitely don’t want to date looking for other people you definitely don’t want to date. Or possibly you! Lucky you.

Nerve Personals: Best way to find someone cool from 2002 to date.

Craigslist: Used to order casual, anonymous STIs and serial killers like delivery pizza.

Grindr: Eharmony’s literal worst nightmare.

None of these are necessarily true. I’m sure there are a rich variety of lifetime commitments and one night stands alike originating on every one of these sites. But sites do get a reputation, and that becomes self-fulfilling, to a point. If I believe that Plenty of Fish is where boogers go to hook up with boogers I’m going to be much less likely to sign up for it if I honestly believe I’m an exemplary dating prospect. And, of course, there’s that rumor² that Eharmony won’t let you sign up if you’re an atheist.

This may or may not have anything to do with why OkCupid messages annoy me so often. As much as I love sex, I’m pretty choosy about whom I have it with, and I need a lot of factors to fall into place–not the least of which is intellectual chemistry– to want to bone someone. Maybe OkCupid users are less invested in intellectual connection than the average person on the internet, but I find this highly unlikely. I just think that I am incredibly picky and I don’t like the way most people approach me.

See, OkCupid has a shorthand system for telling how much of a persnickety bitch a person is before you message them. People who reply to messages often get little green dots that tell you “All clear! Message them now! Go go go!”. People who are a little picky and “Reply Selectively” get yellow dots for caution because if you message someone and they don’t answer you then your face actually melts off like in *Raiders of the Lost Ark³ and you have to go sign up on Plenty of Fish⁴. Then there are the bitches who seldom reply and get the red “Replies Very Selectively” dot. Red is for stop. Do not message these people. They’re awful and if they reply are only doing so to toy with you and ultimately crush your soul. Are you getting this? THEY HATE YOU.

I want to be very clear about something at this point: My dot is always going to be red. Most of the time when someone messages me I have nothing to say in response. Because what they usually, predictably message me in ways that resemble the beginning of a conversation not at all:

1. Most of the time people compliment me. I get versions of physically attractive, witty/intelligent, and interesting a lot. And those are really lovely things to read about myself, but I don’t know how to respond other than with a thank you, and I only bother to do that about half the time⁵. A surprising number of people tell me I’m intimidating. I think this is supposed to be a compliment and perhaps also charmingly self deprecating, but it’s also not a good conversation starter. Maybe I don’t want to talk about me or your self esteem right now.
2. Surprisingly, the “Wanna ______?” messages⁶ are less common than the unsolicited compliments. Not what I would’ve expected, but I guess even internet people understand that you catch more flies with honey than with open flies and slurred come ons. I still get them, though. The innocuous “Do you want to chat?” is automatically irritating in spite of being harmless because someone I don’t know is contacting me and asking me to change communication formats without any enticement besides a question mark. That’s absurd to me. A couple times people have asked me if I want to get married. Once someone asked me if I wanted to form a superhero duo, so these are not all bad.
3. Sometimes you read a message and you just know in your bones that it’s boilerplate. This is insulting. I get the shotgun approach to online dating. I do. But I’m not doing it, and if you do it I’m not doing you.
4. I have gotten pleasant and even interesting messages that actually suggest the beginning of some kind of dialog and maybe even bring up an actual topic! I have. They just don’t come along all that often.

Of course, if someone’s profile is genuinely intriguing I will respond because –as long as the stars are aligned just so– I’ll have both desire and fodder for conversation right there. Sadly, the reality is that reading the average OkCupid profile makes me bored and a little sad.

And annoyed. Honestly, I so deserve to be red.

(image source)

1. Assuming normal is a thing. [↩]
2. No idea if it’s true or not [↩]
3. Originally I wrote “Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom” for reasons I’m not even going to try to justify. My forever shame. [↩]
4. Just kidding, PoF users. Love you wacky guys. [↩]
5. Which is kind of how I do thank you notes, come to think of it. I am really rude. [↩]
6. “Wanna fuck?” would be a classic, but there’s a lot of possible variation here. [↩]

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“I have a boyfriend and a girlfriend and they’re both married, but not to each other,” I told a friend last night. Out loud. And then I realized I hadn’t said that anywhere until that moment, really. Not even on my blog.

It sounds weird somehow when I put it all accurately and succinctly like that, maybe because it’s a sentence I can’t say to very many people without provoking trauma, outrage, or brain breakage. Or maybe because it’s not a configuration of relationships I would have predicted for myself up until it had basically already happened. But it feels pretty alright.

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You know how some people insist that love is a verb, not a noun? It’s about action, and doing, day in and day out; not just feeling. (Kind of like, I dunno, blogging.) I don’t know if that’s true. I think you can probably define love in innumerable ways and still be correct. But fucking is an action word. And an adjective.

I’m a 25 y-o guy and last semester I had this incredibly hot teacher; her eyes were amazing green, great body and face and she was really into fashion…anyway, the weirdest thing of all is that she is one of the most intelligent woman I’ve ever met;  i allways say that intelligence is a HUGE turn on.
Last month I made an exam and there were just the two of us in the classroom…she bought me a coke and kinda flirted with me. I’ve been jerking off thinking about her since then; thinking about her pussy, her breasts, i wanna see those green eyes blowing me…

I’m tempted to send her an e-mail and try to approach somehow

I am really disturbed by the idea of a pair of eyes blowing you or anyone else, but I wish you all possible luck, droog.

I’m resisting posting some veiled reference to how awesome the last 16.5 hours have been, although the neighbours can probably gather I was having a good time from the ’OH GOD’s and the screams…

It is now 8am and ever since I got off the train I have been with my fantastic boyfriend. We had been apart for three whole weeks and as we are still in the early stages I was a bit worried things would be different when we saw each other in the flesh again.
I was right; things ARE different. Things are better than I believed possible.
Being forced to make conversation over Skype revealed more of our fantasies and kinks, and it’s like he can read my mind. We have made all sorts of plans, bought rope and proper stockings, I’ve had a full hollywood wax and now we are having just the best sex. After fearing I would never orgasm from just PIV intercourse with previous partners, I’ve had six tonight including a simultaeous and a multiple (three). There is just the right mix of BDSM play, exploration and worship of each other’s bodies and mushy, snuggly kisses. It’s bliss. It just works. I can’t quite believe how hard I’ve lucked out finding someone as adventurous and absurdly horny and absolutely on my wavelength. He has a stunningly beautiful cock, too.

For some reason I don’t quite understand, we were both very single virgins until quite recently, and through my school years of rejection and unrequited love I felt very insecure and sure I was doomed to die alone with lots of cats. I guess I want to say to past-me and anyone who felt like her that miracles do happen!

Now I really must get some sleep so I can do him all over again tomorrow…

Okay, first of all ::internet high-fucking-five::

Now that that’s out of the way, I encourage everyone not to resist posting blatant references to how awesome their sex lives are. That is at least half of what ConTuesday exists for. There are few things more beautiful in this world than proving our self-loathing past selves wrong.

My crush told me about his fantasy:

he wanted to take me to his boxing ring and tie me up in the cage (honestly, I’m not sure what that looks like, but I don’t care), hands and feet. He then would have some fun on his knees before untying my legs. Then he would lift me up and fuck me against the cage.

My crush is a big, strong guy, and the thought of being tied up and at his mercy makes me weak in the knees. I hope we can make this happen.

I didn’t know that boxing rings had cages either, but I think it’s safe to say that this crush is mutual and hotness impends.

I just heard my mum and her boyfriend having sex and whilst I know I should be cool with her still having a sex life all my mind can do is go EW EW EW MAKE IT STOP, PLEASE LET THERE BE AN EARTHQUAKE SO THIS DOESN’T CONTINUE!

Also, I really just had to tell someone haha.

Just because we support an action doesn’t mean we want to be directly privy to it happening in real-time.

Earthquakes can be dangerous, though.

There’s this guy I know, see him around at gigs and parties, who has this hot rockabilly thing happening and wears this big cowboy hat sometimes.
All I can think about when I see him is him fucking me from behind and slapping me on the arse as he swings his big cowboy hat around.
Have. To. Make. This. Happen. Somehow.

It’s possible that walking up to him and saying that would be the most efficient way to go about this. But then again, I have no idea how cowboys’ minds work. None.

I’m going through a break up right now and I was talking with a friend about how to deal with sadness and loneliness. Top of the list: put on denim short-shorts and red and white polkadot bra. Admire sexy self in the mirror. Immediately have to un-zip short-shorts and employ vibrator. Tell QP about how amazing my orgasm was.

Quizzical Pussy fully endorses this post-breakup behavior.

My boyfriend and I have been gradually working towards anal, since before him I had no experience whatsoever. I don’t always feel like going through the whole rigamarole of breaking out the toys and taking the time to play, though… sometimes I just need him inside me.
So we haven’t played with the butt toys in a while, and this is a goal I want to reach for him, since it’s very clear that he’s way into it. I enjoy the play that we do but mostly because it turns him on so much, and while the combination of a plug in my ass and a vibrator on my clit can send me over the edge almost instantly, just something in my ass doesn’t really do it for me.
On the other hand it’s way hot when he’s fucking me and sticks a finger in my ass and almost instantly comes.
Yesterday, I had the day off and he didn’t, so I took some time out of the afternoon, pulled up some erotica on the laptop and masturbated until I was limp, then lubed up the toys and did some play on my own. I didn’t get any further than we had playing together, but considering how long it’s been since anything but his finger has been in my ass I count it as a victory.
I was planning on jumping him when he got home, but he was exhausted and went to bed really early, but he reads ConTuesday so maybe when this gets posted he’ll recognize me and jump me then.

Carpe nates, my friend!

So, I double dated with my roommate and her friend to meet a twenty-three year old, long haired liberal, unabashedly feminist physics grad student for the first time and we got Thai food. At first, I was really nervous and quiet like I usually am, but I gradually warmed up to him. He and I went back to my room and we watched a couple of Pirates of Penzance clips on YouTube before we ended up making out.

I have hickeys all over my neck. He was a tease through the entire thing. After my neck got a little sensitive, I asked him to hold down my hands while we made out. He grinned and then when I asked if that was a happy face, he pounced on me. Later on, when I asked him if I needed to move, he told me that he would move me where I needed to go. It was the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me. The great thing was when someone or something ruined the mood, we’d crack up and cuddle and talk about comics/politics/feminism/etc. for a while until we were ready to go again.

It was the best first date I’ve ever had. I can’t wait to see him tomorrow and I can’t wait to show my roommate the bruises. I knew I always liked older men for a reason.

First dates like this are the reason people hesitate to go on second dates in many cases. See, they believe this is possible, and they know they didn’t just experience it, and maybe it’s just a waste of time to try to build something solid on foundations that so obviously lack singing pirates and pixie dust. So really, you’re ruining it for everyone.

Ha, just kidding. ::internet high five::

Secrets for me? You should. You really should.

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Click to read this wizard comic about being queer!

A few months ago I went on date with a genuine lesbian, which was roughly when I realized that all the women I’ve had sex with have been bisexuals or pansexuals or otherwise not lesbians.

Aside: Consider for a moment that Sappho, erotic poet from the island of Lesbos and entire reason we call women-loving-women lesbians, was almost certainly married to a man and had a daughter with him. Perhaps more telling, her writing pervs over men as well as women. Why she is the Ur Example and Trope Namer of a male-excluding sexual orientation? I do not know.

The date went well. We were both kind of nervous; we talked for hours about hip hop and families and law school and other entry-level topics. Then she told me that her lesbian friends thought it was super gross that she was on a date with a bisexual. They argued that bisexuals brought disease into the community, and were just generally icky because of touching penises or something.

Um. Okay.

I am not sure how rare that point of view is, but it sort of both introduced and answered the question of why I haven’t had a lot of sex with lesbians. Maybe, to an unknown number of them, I am tainted with penis and super icky and therefore unacceptable. And it is absolutely their right to feel that way.

When I say I’m queer I mean that I fit under the LGBTetc. umbrella. I mean that politically and personally, I deeply care about LGBTetc. issues. But that is the broadest possible meaning of queer (unless we’re going with queer=weird, in which case we are all in this boat together), and some people choose it as a more specific identity. I have considered doing so myself, sometimes even to get away from all the (largely inaccurate) negative perceptions that come with being a bisexual. When people ask me what I think the term “queer” means, I usually tell them how I think of it when other people use it in the more specific sense: “Whatever assumptions you’re about to make about this person’s gender, orientation, identity, they are asking you to think again.” And that might be a terrible definition, but it makes a certain kind of sense to me. If I identified as queer over bisexual/pansexual, to me that would mean that I’d prefer for people to keep going and push further after clocking me as straight (as they tend to do), or assuming that because I’m a bi chick I’m icky, and have a conversation with me about my orientation and identity, rather than just having a term that declares outright whom I like to bone.

That’s appealing, in its way. But then, some days I don’t want to be all didactic. A surprising number of days, really. Therein lies the trib…

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He hadn’t texted.

The date (it wasn’t really a date, she reminded me) had ended that morning, which is often a sign that even a not-really-date has gone well. But it had been fourteen hours and she hadn’t heard from him, and every hour that passed made it feel like it had been more and more of a real date.

Henrietta Tansy was hunched in a doorway like an earthquake was coming, reciting her fears. “What if he got what he wanted and is done with me? What if I said something or did something to turn him off? What if I’m terrible at sex?” She knew it was silly, but it was honest. We worry, don’t we? Especially in the early days, before the proof piles up, when you’re beginning to realize you really like someone. When you’re vulnerable without knowing that they are. It’s scary as fuck.

I told her he was probably busy, or trying not to freak her out since she’d been explicit about wanting space. I told her it was normal to be scared, but she’d laugh at herself in another day or two. He liked her. She’d known it before the sex, hadn’t she?

“Yes, but what if now that we’ve had sex he’s lost interest?” There it was. Is it usually a thing that women and girls fear, or do guys get it too? Little boys aren’t told that women are only after one thing, that we’ll abandon the men who give it to us. That would be absurd.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” I said softly, leaning in close. “I’ve had sex with a guy or two. Or like twelve. And that has never happened to me. I’m starting to think it’s a myth. Sex is fundamentally bonding: oxytocin, dopamine. It makes people like each other more, in my experience.”

“What if you’re just really good at sex?” she asked.

“Even if I am now, which is debatable, I definitely wasn’t always.” She looked reassured. Now, when someone asks you that kind of question, your ego goads you to consider it a little. In 1930s Britain, they whispered that Wallis Simpson had mastered an extraordinary feat of vaginal muscle control, called the “Chinese grip”, in several of Hong Kong’s best brothels. This was their casually racist explanation for how she got a king to renounce his throne. But mechanical explanations almost always fall short when we’re talking about humans beings. Although I would like to think that my pussy is magical, it isn’t. People stick around because they’re doing exactly what I’m doing: trying to make a connection. Breaking the connection for no good reason is more often the unnatural thing. “I’m sure it does happen from time to time, with the douchiest of douchebags, but normal people? They don’t write you off afterward. Who wants to have sex with anyone only once? First-time sex has never been the best sex I’ve had with someone.”

“This first time sex was really good…” she blushed.

“Yeah, but they say it’s better the second time. They say you get to do the weird stuff. And it’s true.”

I told her she was lovable. We hugged. He texted the next morning. Of course he did.

(image source)

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Of all the rottenly rotten positions I’ve experienced in my life, stagnation is among my least favorite. Maybe because I have a low tolerance for boredom, or maybe because I resent being in a situation where I’m not learning anything. Not that change is always for the better, but so often it at least holds the opportunity of better. We all deserve at least the opportunity of better.

Especially when we’re not getting nearly laid enough.

Boyfriend says he’s attracted to me but hardly touches me below the waist. I don’t believe him. Do you?

There are different kinds of attraction. It’s possible to be romantically attracted to someone but not sexually attracted. But on an emotional level? If I were in your position I probably wouldn’t believe him for a second. In fact, I’ve been in a similar position a few times, and it’s damnably hard to see past the pain of continuous sexual rejection.

And I’m only going to say this because I wish I had heard and accepted this myself: Maybe you’re just not compatible.

My partner is on psych meds. Sometimes he takes them; sometimes he doesn’t.

I don’t know a polite, kind, non-ableist way of saying ”when you don’t take your pills you’re impossible to be around.”

But he really is. I love my partner when he’s medicated. He’s a different person when he’s not. (He’s not violent or hostile, but he’s hyper, incoherent, and has terrible judgment.) Sometimes I fret about whether that means I don’t love “the real him” but mostly I fret about how I can get him to take his goddamn pills.

I don’t believe that preferring him unmedicated and struggling would amount to loving “the real him”. If he feels like the medication is somehow crossing his own purposes and wishes to stop taking it, that’s a different conversation. If you both agree he is better off taking it regularly, I, stranger who writes shit on the internet, think you’re in your rights as an interested party to communicate your concern when he skips.

I find it rather difficult to have an orgasm – I have almost never had one with my partner present (maybe once or twice with a lot of concentrated self-touching) and even with my own fingers (or a VIBRATOR for godssake) it takes a very long time to get off.

You didn’t ask for advice, which is good because I really don’t have any advice on this topic. I dearly wish I did. I would love to read more experiences and perhaps tips from people who don’t orgasm easily.

So I’m married – happily, monogamously, for two years. My husband rocks.
I am also attracted to other people because, y’know, ain’t dead. One of them has become my cuddle buddy some time ago: this is known and consented to by all involved parties, including cuddle buddy’s girlfriend.
I am kinda high-libido, and my husband can’t keep up with me. I don’t think anyone could, really, given that I need to have a job and shit and occasionally leave the bed, but something in addition would be awesome.
I’d never cheat on my husband, but I daydream in hope that we might form an Arrangement with my cuddle buddy and his GF – possibly a swinging-ish thing.
I think it’s plausible GF is attracted to my husband, I know cuddle buddy is attracted to me and he knows I am to him. I’d also gladly make out with the GF, with or without my husband or the cuddle buddy watching. Discussion with cuddle buddy has revealed that his GF might not be averse to some less-than-monogamous forays.
Have no idea if husband is attracted to GF, though, and terrified of asking because I tend to spend long hours with cuddle buddy while my husband waits for me at home; I know he trusts me, but I’m worried it might upset him to know I’m interested in such a thing even if I’d never do it without his consent.
(Husband is fine with me having sex with other women, but men are upsetting to him.)

You may identify as monogamous, which is awesome, but I feel like if your husband is okay with you having sex with other women there’s some non-monogamy thrown into the mix here. If it were me I’d probably talk about the details of that openness as a conceptual, hypothetical thing (e.g. “Would you ever want to try swinging with a couple we were both attracted to?”), provided I hadn’t already gotten around to that, before bringing up specific people.

The only thing that has convinced me to go back on my anxiety medication is that my panic attacks are interfering with my sex life.

Hope things are going better for you in much more than just your sex life.

Today at noon, my best friend/the girl I love told me that she isn’t comfortable with hanging out with me after 4 years of friendship/occasional dating, because two weeks ago I told her I loved her (did a whole “John-Cusack-boombox thing”).
She told me right before I had to go to lecture, during which I felt sick. She was so far the only one I had true feelings for (and the only one who got me the closest to ejaculation).

But now I’m ready to hit the town again, after having stupid, teenager-y woes for a year with and about this girl. I’m ready to end my involuntary 7-month celibacy. So yay for me.

Although I did tell her I still wanted to be her friend, which is true, but I forgot to add that I would need about a year of not thinking nor talking to her just to get myself ready to be just her friend. So that’s that.
Sorry about not really having a sexual confession.

This confession totally counts! I hope you’ve ended your celibacy in the hottest, most joyful way possible. And I hope you can eventually find a way to rebuild the friendship you lost, or at least find that your life is better without it.

I have no trouble getting laid. I know that men find me sexy and I have great sexual relationships with some. But no matter how hard I try I never meet anyone who wants to commit to me. I always get the ”I just don’t want a girlfriend right now” speech.
Some of my friends think I need to stop having sex right away and wait it out to see if they really like me or whatever but then what do I do about sex?!?!? I love sex! And I love casual sex! The excitement of experiencing someone new for the first time, discovering their body and in so many cases learning new things about sex and about your own body! It just gets really lonely sometimes.

I feel like the whole idea that having sex quickly after meeting automatically nixes the potential for a relationship is fairly busted. I know that some people have that mentality, but not everyone does. My question is, would you be happy with someone who was willing to write you off just because you didn’t want to wait until the third date or whatever to have orgasms?

You’re not just asking to be loved; you’re also offering to give love as your amazing, unique, and irreplaceable self. You deserve to be picky too.

Sex Confessional

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“Polyamory is a relationship orientation that rejects the assumption that love is a finite resource…” -From The Rhetoric and Composition of Polyamory, an awesome new blog that now appears on my blogroll

For years I maintained that polyamory was synonymous with drama. With slogging through relationship issues twice as much as doing actual relationship stuff. With inexhaustible neediness. Otherwise, I liked it in theory. I agreed with the overall idea that a person could be in love with more than one person at once. But in practice– every time I’d seen it– its implementation was irredeemably messy and awful, and I made assumptions based on that. Which, as you have likely concluded yourself, was dickish and logically unsound.

I mean, I could have stopped for a moment to consider the fact that most human relationships stoop to varying degrees of messy and awful at some point.

I wasn’t actively shunning and judging poly people, mind, but my main reasons for not choosing it for myself were the potential for drama and my smug estimation that it just didn’t work. There were other factors that made me cling to monogamy and then open-not-poly for a while. I had partners who didn’t identify as poly. I had trouble believing anyone wanted to date me, let alone multiple people, so the whole thing just seemed fantastical. Then there was my rich and storied history of trading my freedom for love. The prospect of a relationship that wasn’t limiting in fundamental ways confused me.

Really, this is just more support for my growing suspicion that when person A waxes critical of the concept of person B’s perfectly harmless, minding-their-own business lifestyle, it really just means person A has some related shit to work out on their end.

Then I met more poly people, some of whom executed their multiple relationships in ways that made more sense to me than what I’d previously witnessed. I even met people who did it more or less the way my open relationship functioned, but called it poly, and that made the word less scary. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, polyamory kind of started seeming like an increasingly attractive idea for me. Well, let’s be frank: I probably never wasn’t attracted to the idea. I harbor no doubt that person A is actually often just a mite envious of person B.

I realize I’m single and in zero relationships now, so it may not be the optimal time to declare myself poly (fun fact: most people call the multiple partners thing that single people do “dating”). And it’s certainly hard for me to conclude that it’s my orientation without actively trying it. But I have come to the decision that I prefer not to be entirely monogamous in the long-run, and that I am entirely open to polyamory, inclusive of casual as well as more serious multiple relationships.

In short, I think I might be poly. I’m going to try to check that out.

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I joined OKCupid recently, as one is supposed to after getting dumped. They actually have a recruiter come to your house, pound on your door, tell you to stop watching Dawson’s Creek, and ask you what you want your username to be.

True story.

It feels too early to jump into another serious relationship. It feels like a good time to develop a crush or six, though, or to start the vetting process that will eventually, possibly lead to making out and orgasms and stuff. I’m ignoring the fact that those things are how serious relationships usually start; I’ll cross those legs when I come to them.

I like OKC so far, I do. Mostly. I like taking the wacky tests. I like answering match questions. It feels like placing an order for the perfect lover, even though you know it could turn out more like a botched pizza delivery and you may end up trying to choke down a pie topped with legos and felt. I love the fact that it tells you your match percentage with people. I’m in the 90%s with many of my friends who happen to be on the site, and I find myself idly wondering about all the others. And various exes. And my dog, but not in a weird way.

All this before I have any actual experience proving that a high match percentage means anything, really. The very savvy Viola Sharqtipus once told me, however, that she really does get along better with exceptionally high OKC matches. So because of that and the clinical comfort of numbers, I’m paying attention to my percentages with people.

But on the other hand, the whole dating site thing is proving kind of annoying. I could spend stupid amounts of time just answering messages, which are mostly inane. I want to understand how I’m supposed to respond to a message that says “You seem interesting,” which is more or less what half of them say¹. I’m assuming here that people are not actually intending to have a conversation about how interesting I am, but rather saying “You’re interesting; I, not so much. Say something interesting to me now so we can talk about that!” This comes off as lazy and impolite, contacting me first only to put the burden of starting any actual conversation on me.

I realize it’s not always easy to start a conversation, and maybe it’s not worth the effort if you’re opting to use the shotgun approach to contacting broads on the internet, but do you know what kind of people I want to talk to online and date and be interesting with? People who are a) interesting themselves and actually interested in me, and b) can have conversations.

I had no idea I’d feel so strongly about this, but it seems I do. In fairness, I’m more misanthropic than usual lately. It took me very little time to earn OKC’s “replies very selectively” warning label, and it doesn’t look like it’s going away any time soon.

But I have found a few gripping new people to talk to, and perhaps someday meet. I even met one already, and we got along so well we’ll likely get really wacky and out there and do it again. Of course, because one of my rules for myself on the site is not to initiate contact with anyone over 25 miles away because right now I’m a little burned out on the “driving hours every week to see my paramour” relationship model, all these people live over an hour away so far. But they messaged me first and actually said stuff and asked questions and shit, and you can’t put a number on that².

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1. Along with an astonishingly not-infrequent “I didn’t understand half of ur profile lol.” [↩]
2. Although technically I think they all happen to be high percentage matches. Score one for Viola. [↩]

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