Mmm…masochist?

I think I may be getting in over my head. I need to be careful. There’s only so much of me, and if I start spreading myself I’m going to lose it.

I’m confused this morning. I’m getting emotionally involved with too many people. Or already am? I only realized now that I spent a large chunk of last night talking about the Big Love with the man’s best friend. I’m still so emotionally involved with him, I care so much, that I do worry, and I want what’s best for him. He’s in rough shape and I want to be able to help. Except that I need to be careful not to allow myself to go too far in that direction. As much as I want him to be happy, I can’t actually make him happy. It’s not my job anyhow. I resigned from that position last Fall.

I sent a message to the Catalyst the other day. I know I shouldn’t have. He just replied telling me that he hadn’t contacted me because he was giving me my space, as I had asked. Why did I contact him? Why am I still clinging to that? It makes me feel bad. I don’t feel like I can be myself with him, and yet I can’t let go. Am I really this masochistic? It’s totally fucked.

And now there are more people coming out of the woodwork. And I need to watch myself. I love spending time with people, having fun. I love getting to know people intimately. I mean, that’s just the way I work. I’ve always been a one-on-one kind of girl. But now I realize that I have to be really careful about who I spend how much time with.

The Man just pointed out that yes, it is bad to be emotionally involved with this many people and that I need closure. I need closure with the Big Love, I need closure with the Catalyst. I’m no longer in relationships with these people. It’s over. With the former, it can be possible. It’s just that there’s still a part of me that can’t let go of that closeness we have. I still love him so much. BUT I can see myself slipping. We have fun together, it’s comfortable, and I actually enjoy taking care of other people. Right now there isn’t anyone else in my life who needs my mothering. However, that’s no excuse for me to be going right back to the same pre-existing pattern. And I know that he doesn’t want mothering — at least on a conscious level. But he is still coming to me when he’s down, and I’m willingly helping him because I still love him. It’s not healthy. As much as I want to spend time with him, I really shouldn’t do it until he’s much stronger and I actually know what I’m doing. The fact that I can still say that he’s the best person I’ve spent time with in my life and the only person I’ve ever been able to imagine a long term future with makes it pretty clear that I’m not entirely past it. Yes, I love him. Yes,  we’re great friends. But no, I can’t allow myself to be as emotionally involved with him as I’m becoming again. It’s bad for me.

So on to the Catalyst. Why did I contact him again? Because I was curious? Am I over him? Not at all. Does anyone really kick an addiction? I think it’s mostly a matter of will power that keeps you away. And clearly I have less of that than I had hoped. Is it because of the way he says he feels about me? Because of the way he makes me feel? I get knotted up just thinking about him. Did I ever really love him, or was it just an obsession? But then there is the issue of closure. There wasn’t any. I told him I needed space, and he gave it to me. I think need to see him in the flesh to get past it. Sex? Maybe. That’s the worst part. I still really want to sleep with him.

I’m a masochist. Everything can be going amazingly in my life and yet I somehow seek out things to hurt me. So I can hurt myself.

It plays out differently in every relationship. At some times it’s more overt than at others. I think the way it’s revealing itself right now is far healthier than the underground ways of the past. I want to be hurt. So hurt my physically (with boundaries, obviously). But this emotional pain that I cause for myself is just so demented. The Catalyst makes me feel like shit, and so I gravitate toward him? How messed up is that? The Big Love is in rough shape, so I take his anguish into myself? What the hell am I doing?

Do I really enjoy feeling bad? Do I enjoy feeling jealously? Obviously I feel it. I mean, I care about the people I’m with. I really do care about the Man. I may believe that I’m not in any danger of falling in love with him, but falling in love and caring deeply for someone aren’t one and the same. I care very much for him. I don’t want him to get hurt. I don’t want to hurt him. And yet I sort of expect him to hurt me.

There’s this odd balance that we’ve started to maintain. Sometimes it’s sort of sweet and connected, sometimes it’s fucking intense, at other times almost like we’re nothing more than friends, and sometimes it just feels bad. But the times when it feels bad aren’t when we’re actually together. It’s only been good when we’re physically in one another’s presence. The times I feel bad are those moments when I consider him with someone else. Not physically — I don’t actually care about that. Emotionally. I don’t want to be unknowingly ousted. But whenever we talk about it, it’s pretty clear where we’re at. I think to an extent I actually relish the tension and fear. Part of me wants to get hurt, but the rest of me know that’s fucked up.

Chasing

My mind can’t help but pop back to a specific line of conversation that came out last night. I’m not sure why it jumps out to strongly, but it’s been said and it’s there and it’s strangely comforting.

There were comments made about our not being one another’s types. How little we have in common in the way of interests. And he has a point: I mean, death and destruction aren’t exactly my forte. My response might have sounded a little harsh, but a very honestly phrased, “Well, I don’t exactly see us together in the future either” popped out of my mouth. It’s pretty liberating. In a strange way, knowing that we have a great time now but don’t necessarily see (or want) a future, has created a mood of pure present. And for some reason, if everything is now, then there need be no censors, no filters, no compromise.

I’ve started thinking about fantasy again, and the root of fantasies. I’ve had recent discussions with various people about comfort levels.  A close friend’s boyfriend is really into spanking. Both spanking her and being spanked. She was trying to figure out the latter. I told her to just relax and go with it and see if she liked it. Maybe coming up with a scenario could help. Props? It could help to get really angry beforehand. Angry sex can be good.

Which brings me to this visceral line that I can’t help but think of. I’ve crossed over it a few times. Not as many as I would like. Every time it’s been crossed has been insanely powerful. Or powerless. A feeling of complete submission that goes beyond the typical power dynamics in a couple. Or it’s fighting to attempt to keep or regain power. Fighting tooth and nail. Or not fighting at all and allowing my body to be used. To submit. Memorable.

I don’t know why, but I have this horror movie image running through my head.

I’m standing in the kitchen. I’m in a large house in the suburbs. It’s my parents’ place, although I don’t live there any more. I’m house sitting. They’ve been away for weeks; I’m just there making sure everything is okay. Enjoying the use of a big tv,  gorgeous bathroom, sauna, hot tub.

I walk down the hallway. The only audible sound is that of the ticking clock. Light angles across the floor in growing diagonals through the venetian blinds. It is still. Almost too still.

I step into the kitchen. As with the rest of the house it’s dark, but for the lighting from the streetlamp outside. The clock on the oven reads 4:12am. I go to get a glass of water. A shadow drops past the side door and I hear the sound of smashing glass. I stop: motionless but for my eyes. I’m holding my breathe, waiting for something to happen, someone to appear.

I hear sound down through the passage. Footsteps on the wooden floor. They must have come in through the garage. I back toward the wall picking the phone up as quietly as possible. An unexpected giggle. I am amused by the stereotype. The line is dead. I’m going to have to get to my cell phone which is upstairs. Or out of the house.

I tiptoe back toward the stairs. I don’t think they know I’m here. Maybe it’s just a straight-up robbery. I pause a few steps beyond the kitchen, and go back in to grab a knife. It’s a carving knife. The long pointy one. As I step back out toward the stairs I feel as though I’m being watched. I can’t see anyone at the end of the hall. I’m noiselessly padding toward the staircase in the centre of the entrance hall.

I can feel someone watching me. But I can’t see him. There’s that moment of cold, bone-chilling realization. I know where he is.
That feeling of being watched, hunted, stalked like prey.

And then the chase.

I spring up the carpeted staircase as loud footsteps hurtle down the hallways toward me.  I slip near the top, and he grabs my leg, slamming me down onto my front as I kick him away. I roll over onto my butt and slam my feet into his chest, and somehow manage to scramble up the steps before he can regain his grip on my leg.

I run into my parents’ room. Slam and lock the door. Through the walk-in closet, out the other side into my own room. As I walk in, I realize my mistake. There’s a man. Dressed in black combats. He’s wearing a ski mask. He’s built. I can see that under his jacket. Looks like a criminal, but doesn’t have the air of a petty thief.

“Why are you here?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

I’m clutching the knife so hard my knuckles are turning white. My heart is beating fast. We are staring at one another. I’m waiting for him to move. I’m not sure that I have it in me to stab him. He hasn’t technically attacked me. He simply tried to slow me down on the stairs. I inch backwards and he takes a step toward me.

“How about you give me that big knife. They can be very dangerous you know. I wouldn’t want to see you getting hurt…”

***

I need to stop. I’m getting too excited and I have other work to do.

Man, I wish I had a big house to play in.

Finding a path

This is where things get interesting.

People are by nature contradictory. As much as you want to be able to control your emotions, it’s easier said than done. You might think one thing, believe it, will it, and then discover that in fact it isn’t that way at all.

Maybe part of me just really wanted to know. I realize now that it shouldn’t have played out the way it did. We had agreed that we’d go home together and then I ditched him. My bad. Not cool. I didn’t actually think of it that way at the time. Alcohol clouds judgment. But it isn’t really an excuse.

I think I wanted to see how he would react. If he’s stronger than I am. If he’d feel the same way I do. If he cares as much as I do. If he’d be able to just overcome the jealousy. Or if it would hit hard and make him reevaluate where he is. If it’s really possible for this to work the way we want it to, or if we’re just setting ourselves up for a big ugly failure.

I was feeling vulnerable. I was. There’s this really funny emotion that can get things all tangled up. It’s very egotistical. There’s this bizarre sense that you’re not enough when someone you care about hooks up with another person. It’s stupid because spending time with other people doesn’t mean that the person you’re more intimately involved with isn’t enough, it simply means that you’re keen on exploring other avenues. And other avenues can be great. Love isn’t a zero sum game. People interact on so many different levels, and I want to be able to enjoy these levels with honesty and free of guilt.

Perhaps we got in deeper than we had intended, than we had realized? Perhaps we need to spend less time together. Perhaps we need to rethink what we’re doing, where this is going? I don’t have any real answers. We have an awesome time together. And I know that the way we feel is just getting stronger. So the question is can we do this?

I think it’s about honesty. I think it’s about accepting how we feel and taking the time to actually live the emotions. It’s not him making me feel jealous, it’s my own insecurities…and vice versa. There are times when you just have to suck it up and say, “Hey. This makes me feel shitty. I don’t want to feel like this. I don’t feel like I have any right to feel like this, but I do.” And then hopefully the open dialogue can lead to an understanding. And the emotions will pass. And things will be cool.

Oh, I do hope that can work. I don’t think it’s an easy task. But I believe it’s possible.

Armor

Well there’s a letdown.

I shouldn’t care so much. It isn’t really a big deal. I just kind of wanted him to come and see me act. I don’t want to be upset but I am. (I shouldn’t be upset with myself for being upset. How counter-intuitive is that?)Why is it that I always end up liking people who have really demanding work lives? I will not repeat the past. Fuck I hate being sidelined for work. Even though I know that the people I’m drawn to are the manic intensely working people. Ergh. I need to chill.

I guess the thing is that I’m having a hard time keeping myself from getting carried away. I don’t want to pretend that I’m not getting really involved. I am. I like him a lot. Especially because every time we hang out it’s just so good. It’s chill. It’s fun. He’s great. But then I go off and get stuck inside my head. I worry that I’m getting too involved, that I don’t know what I’m doing, that maybe I’m being unrealistic, that I should be more careful.

It’s a really stupid contradiction. I don’t have time for people who pay too much attention to me. That’s just boring. I don’t need to be doted upon. But then, I still want to have enough attention paid to me that I don’t have these moment of uncertainty. I hate game playing, but there’s this really pathetic insecure little girl somewhere in here who really wants to be assured that she’s adored without having to draw it out of those she wants the attention from. Not exactly straightforward now is it?

I just talked to AGP. She had a rough day yesterday as well. It’s exciting to be emotionally charged, but it’s not easy. She made a comment about letting go that just struck a chord. I’m not ready to let go. I’m not ready to let my guard down. But at the same time I’m tired of feeling like I need to be on my guard. Vigilant watch. I want to be able to relax into it and not feel like everything could just fall apart at any moment. Why do I feel like everything could fall apart at any moment? Is it because I’m afraid of actually accepting the way that I feel, or is it because I don’t know how I feel?

Or perhaps it’s because I don’t really know how he feels about me. I don’t have any idea what we’re doing. I don’t need certainty. What we’re doing is an experiment anyhow. Who knows how this will pan out?

I just don’t want to get hurt. Or hurt him.  Not that it’s altogether something that can be controlled.  It’s a matter of communication and keeping a clear view of things. We need to be careful about where we each are: how far apart we’re standing. Who’s at what vantage point; who’s walking toward whom? How much armor am I wearing? Is he still holding up his shield? His sword? A fucking huge blade? Do I have an escape route planned or would I rather just take my chances and accept that if I do end up getting cut, then well…I’ll bleed. And then I’ll heal. Hopefully. Eventually.

What happened to me keeping my life simple? I didn’t want to get involved with anyone, but now it’s happened, well, happening, and I’m finding myself completely elated on the one hand, and really uncertain on the other. Foolish girl. I think too much. I just need to stop thinking about it and just let it happen. I don’t think the way we interact is going to change in a hurry. I think the bratty little girl just has to accept the fact that she can’t have his time whenever she wants it. Sometimes he’s just going to say no. And getting annoyed with being denied is just, well… it’s childish.

Needs vs. Wants.

Someone has to pay attention to the needs.

More time please

I’m feeling elated.

Walking back home from the metro after almost missing my stop. I had drifted off to a happy place. Listening to Sea Change and thinking about how incredible this summer is going to be.

I just got the go-ahead on my documentary. So not only am I going to go visit the Hot Smart Lady (for free!), but we’re going to get a whole shitload of footage for a really great film idea. The prof even said that she thinks that I might be able to get funding from the NFB. It’s the type of thing they like. Who’d have thought? I want to make documentaries, and now I’m going to make one as soon as I finish this program. Awesome!
My life has changed so much this year. I can’t really believe it. I met up with the Big Love for an early dinner yesterday. It was great to see him. It was also not so great seeing him in rough shape, but that’s unfortunately how things are just now. I do hope that things start coming together for him soon.

It’s crazy to think that I could have still been there with him. I still love him. That’s very obvious when we see one another. We get along so well, have such a strong connection. But he needs more than I can give him, and I can’t stand up to it. I think that we can have a really good friendship. I do hope we can.

I’m in such good space now. I’m doing creative things; really enjoying myself. I’m constantly coming up with new ideas, and I actually have the capacity to get these things done now. I have so many talented people around me. It’s just a matter of knowing the right person to ask. It’s really inspiring having so many artistic and driven people in my life all at once. It makes me feel like we’re all really going to do things, go places. Have fun.

That’s what I want, really. I want to have fun. I want to go home at the end of the day, exhausted, but happy that I’ve been doing things that are inspiring to me. Or simply enjoyable.

It’s another aspect of what really gets me with the man. He’s overflowing with ideas and excitement about doing things. His creativity totally buzzes me. There are so many times I’ve walked away from him with new ideas about projects that I, we can do. I guess it’s all a matter of time. And having more of it.

I’ve been thinking about him a lot today. Pretty much consistently. It’s great. It makes me happy. I keep on thinking of things we should do together. Fun things. A lot of them don’t involve much. Well, they involve more time. I just want to hang out with him. Watch movies, play games, lie around, smoke joints, bounce ideas off one another, tell stories, make recordings, write things, hopefully make films. Go on road trips? Have crazy adventures. I can see him catalyzing some pretty crazy adventures.

Oh, and there’s the touching. He has this way of looking at me.

And the sleeping.

And…

Yup. Good. No issues. No weirdness. It’s just good. Relaxed and fun.

Makes me smile.

I just need to find more time for sleep.

I am absolutely exhausted.

Rather than doing the responsible thing and going home after yesterday’s marathon rehearsal that went until midnight, I opted for the more entertaining option of popping over to Tokyo for a few drinks. Tokyo Wednesdays are full of people I know. Plus, the man was going to probably be going there and I sort of wanted to see him. Very much wanted to do home with him. I like sleeping with him.

Actually, I’m going to have to be good about balancing my life. I have a problem. Once I start getting some, I want it all the time. I think about it all the time. Apparently men think about sex every five minutes. Women supposedly only think about it every half hour. Whoever did that study didn’t know what they were talking about. I definitely think about sex constantly at the moment.

The Angsty German Philosopher has a new man she’s smitten with. We have this sort of complicity now. While hearing about other people’s new romantic excitement can be nice for about a millisecond, when one is single it’s not something you want to hear about all the time. I think we’ll just have to talk amongst ourselves. That way people can’t get annoyed with us.

Good connections are the best.

Coming

I just realised that this one didn’t actually get published. It’s from yesterday morning.  

Last night was awesome. While my resolve to dedicate myself to my school work and the play may have faltered somewhat, I did have what turned out to be a really rather spectacular night. Oh, and I don’t think I could ever really be a lesbian.

I really did intend to be good and just work hard all evening and then go to bed. Emo had agreed to help me with my lines for the play, and I had turned down AnarchoFem’s suggestion that we go for drinks and listen to her roommate play the sax at a jazz band. I started getting stressed because I needed to write a query for today’s class, but had no idea who to write about or how to make it interesting. Emo suggested that I interview my Partner in Crime. He’s kind of crazy, has a great job, and I’m sure people would want to read about him. Good idea.

So I emailed him:

“I want to interview you”

“Done. When? Over dinner…Tonight.”

Thus, my night of rehearsing my lines and working hard and not drinking or smoking was irrevocably altered… for the best. My suspicion was right. He’s an amazing interviewee. I already knew that’s he’s a good talker and good story teller, so when I put the mic in front of him he just went along his own path, weaving together amusing and coherent stories for me to use. It’s a really interesting way to learn about someone’s life. Especially when you’re sort of intimately involved with them.

Emo’s friend came over to deliver the drawing he did for my zine and we all headed down to Barfly for a drink. Every time I went out for a smoke with the man, there was a little complicity, a little intimacy.

“We’re really attracted to each other, aren’t we?”

I’d say so. There was talk about us. The fact that we are in a relationship of sorts. It’s great not defining it. As he said, it’s amazing that you can have a loving friendship without the constraints of regular relationship nonsense. Fun and openness. It’s pretty awesome.

We left the bar. I didn’t know what to do. I knew that I needed to get my work done, needed to write my query and get up for yoga early in the morning. But I also wanted to spend the night with him. Sleeping over the night before had been fantastic. There’s nothing like being woken up in the middle of the night for a moment by a kiss on your shoulder, before you both fall asleep again, together. Mmm.

So I went home, grabbed my laptop and bag and headed down to the panty-dropper pad that’s he’s making use of while his friend is away.

Electric.

It was worth the wait.

This morning just before he left he thanked me for coming to see him.

“Thanks for making me come.”

Brain chatter

I’m on break between the morning and afternoon sessions of my yoga course. As much as I want to focus, today is one of those days that makes me think that perhaps I’m just not quite there at the moment with the yoga thing. The last session I was right there. I felt all of the energy despite my fatigue, and was simply rejuvenated by the whole weekend. It blew my mind that I could go on 3 hours sleep a night and still feel intense amounts of energy as a result of the practice and meditation.

But today is kicking my ass.  My mind keeps on wandering and all I wanted was to go to sleep when we were in shivasana. I can’t help thinking about what happened on Thursday, about last night at work, and I can see myself slowly sliding into stress. I have an extraordinary amount of work to do, I need to learn the rest of my lines because the play is in 3 weeks and I’m so tired that I just want to curl up into a ball and sleep. (I also really needed to get all of that off my chest.) My mind just won’t rest.

Okay, so here goes.

I’m trying to be honest with myself. That means that I need to step away from my usual patterns of ignoring things that bother me. That also means just talking to the people concerned about the way I feel about things regarding them. Problem is that I’m not totally clear on this myself. However, I’m going to try to make sense of it.

Thursday night was awesome. I still can’t quite believe that it happened. It was just mind blowing. I didn’t feel weird about anything that went down involving me. (There was one thing that I wasn’t sure of, but I’ll go into that in a second. It was more of an afterthought than a concern at the time). I guess the main thing is, I don’t actually know what or how I feel about the man in question now that this happened. I don’t know that emotionally and mentally things are aligned on this point. There’s a part of me that does feel like what happened has and will change our whole relationship, but then there’s another part of me that thinks that it could be a great thing and I’m just hesitant because it really goes pretty deep into unexplored territory.

The thing that has started to worry me a bit since Thursday night is bodily fluids. I hadn’t thought about it at all until yesterday, but one of the reasons life is just that little bit easier when you are only with one partner is that you know what you’re getting (well…hopefully not getting). Any time you’re with more people you’re taking a little risk, especially if you throw caution to the wind and make that terribly bad call that the person you’re with is too nice to have anything. (I already made that mistake once — not going down that road again.) So that’s a little concern, but I think that I’m possibly focusing on it rather than what’s really going on.

Fuck. Okay. So the weird thing? We had this crazy build up to what was going to be the first time anything would actually happen between us. And then it wasn’t just us. So rather than feeling like there’s the possibility of an us (with other girls on the side — I don’t think either of us really want to give up that option), I feel like the us could potentially based on the other girls. The fact that I’m rather emotionally e-tarded might mean that I’m totally blowing this out of proportion, and that the two of us will hang out some time this week and watch a movie and all of the tension and desire and excitement will be back again, and we’ll fool around and it’ll be awesome. And then? Well, after this week’s girlfest, I am pretty keen. Very keen. More girls. Girls are fun. Mmm…

So yeah. I know I sound like a huge contradiction because I don’t want to get into a relationship (trans: I think I need to be single for a while), but then on the flip side, I think it could be really interesting and fun to try out something incredibly unconventional, somewhat hedonistic, and very definitely polyamorous. I don’t need any sort of labels: a) I think it will be fun to confuse people and b) why the fuck is my personal life any of their business anyhow? I guess what it comes down to is just talking to the Partner in Crime and seeing what he thinks.

You didn’t?

There is one other thing.  Not a concern, but a curiosity rather. We didn’t fuck. By that, I mean that my Partner in Crime and I didn’t actually fuck. While there were hands and tongues and fingers and body parts all in contact all over the place, I just wasn’t about to fuck him.

Why?

Well, it didn’t really seem like the time.

Will we ever? I have no idea. Eventually, probably.
This is the only part of the whole thing that makes me wonder a little. I mean, this is obviously an interesting direction for things to have moved in. And most certainly not one that either of us would have imagined.

The sexual tension was building in an unbelievable way. I had decided before I went to see him that I wasn’t going to have sex with him. Some hot making out, absolutely. But I wasn’t about to sleep with him just yet.

I clearly couldn’t have known exactly what was going to go down last night. Part of the reason I didn’t want to sleep with him is because I actually really like him a lot. We get along so unbelievably well, and just have so much fun together. But I don’t want a relationship. So in the back of my mind, fucking him had the potential to change things: destroy some of the excitement, the tension, and alter the whole awesome dynamic we have.

I don’t think this is really the case at all, but what I do want to know is what the hell is going to happen now? I mean, how can you top an orgy? Obviously the two of us together, not totally fucked up and hanging out would be a different dynamic altogether. I’m just curious to know what’s going to happen, I guess.

I think if I was out to find an unconventional relationship with a totally open person, I was successful. So funny.  I still can’t help giggling a little.

Four is a really wonderful number.

Sometimes fact is stranger that fiction.

Orgy.

Dionysian frenzy.

How do you plan for things like that?

If you had asked me yesterday what I was going to do when I got back to Montreal, I would have said that I was going to hang out with the Tattoo Guy. We’d been texting, messaging, talking all week since I’d been away and there was definitely something culminating. Funny how a few days away can do that. A few days apart, really…

Nonetheless, meeting him at a strip club, where he was hanging out with two e-d up twenty-year-olds he had just met, was not something I could have guessed at. Nor would I have imagined that I’d end up taking about a quarter of a pill and evenually ending up back at his old place with said girls getting naked and partying all night, playing around with everyone. I have certain images of limbs everywhere. I can’t even remember who did what with who, except for knowing that it was really fantastic.

Holy fuck was it ever hot. Unimaginably so. Goddamn.

I think I have a new partner in crime. As he said, things just seem to happen when the two of us are involved. Neither of us is likely to say no. And both of us are likely to see how far we can push the envelope. The first thing he said to me last night when I got to Kamasutra was that I needed to be his wingman. I’d say it was a success. It also amuses me how well it works with the two of us together. He’s all charisma and shit talking, and I’d guess that I’m somewhat of a cherry on top. The girls couldn’t get enough of either of us. They were so into it.

Shit. I wasn’t like that when I was twenty!

I sent the Oldest and Best friend a text message this morning:

TP: Last night. Orgy. Craziness

OBF: I fucked the guy upstairs.

TP: Awesome

I find it hilarious that after our lunch on Thursday, and our discussions of how cute her new neighbour is, plus the fact that her response to my question of whether or not she’s attracted to guys led to her tapping that. I love how similar we are. It makes me giggle way too much.

Seems like a fairly successful week. Considering my levels of sexual frustration before I went back to Toronto, the fact that I’ve been with four people since then probably means that I’m not allowed to complain for a good long time. I also get to check off the box next to orgy on the list. Although there was a discussion as to whether it was a foursome or an orgy. I’d say the latter, purely based on the logistics of the situation. Three girls, all very much into each other, plus a guy. All unattached — to each other at least. All out for a good time and fucking retardedly high. I guess my wish to do ecstasy not with my brother came true. In a way I never could have imagined. I’m still laughing about it.