Apr. 9th, 2018 11:16 am

Windfall

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[personal profile] muckefuck
What is the opposite of jinxing yourself? In my last update, lamenting the fizzle of a recent crush wasted on a fuckboy, I concluded with:
Meanwhile, it'll probably be several more months before I find anyone who provokes an immediate response beyond, "Eh, he'll do".
In the end, it was less than two weeks.

This retaught me several things, one of which is how really good sex makes you live totally in the moment. This is important because I'm particularly bad about living in the moment. But for half a day, I didn't just lose track of time, I lost track of the notion that I was even supposed to care about time. I wrecked my sleep schedule and made a hash of being a good host. And I did it all deliberately. Whenever I found my attention wandering to what was going to happen next or the next day or back to the consequences of what had happened, I hit the reset button in my brain and looked anew at what was right in front of me.

What was in front of me at the time was a gorgeous man with an inch or two, about a hundred pounds, and ten years on me. A furry Midwestern farmboy now living in the Southwest. He was only in town for a conference and left yesterday evening and he only ended up at my house because a couple of mutual friends suggested he come along and he did. We didn't know at first glance how the evening was going to end--but that first glance gave us both Notions and once we decided to act on them, things happened very quickly indeed.

Because this is my life and not romance novel, there were elements of farce involved. He hid in the bathroom while the rest of the guests left in order not to have to make excuses. I decided I owed it to the cute cub who expected me to accompany him to Bearracuda not to do that so I broke the news to him while we were trying on harnesses. (He punched me--twice. And not gently.) The next morning, a good friend who was staying over slipped into the bedroom while we were naked under the covers to take his leave.

One of the other important things the experience retaught me is how necessary goodwill is to good sex. If you accept the premise that sex is a form of communication, then this follows syllogistically from the necessity of goodwill to good communication. But it took processing the experience afterward with an online friend in South Carolina for me to draw that connexion. This is what made my encountre with the Houston leatherdaddy at IML last year so memorable and it's what made this into an all-night affair instead of the max two-hour fling I told the cute cub to expect. (Whoops.)

All day yesterday, I avoided thinking too much about the future. That friend who helped me process, I'd only called him to burble a bit. (He was my agony aunt for Clueless Fuckboy so I felt he deserved it.) And if the conversation did take a serious turn, it also took a turn for the abstract and became as much about him as about me (which is useful because he's equally thoughtful but much different in approach and experiences). I know not to trust my decision-maker on so little sleep.

I'm still bathing in afterglow. I have a few new pics to remember things by; I wish I had more (but I didn't want to interrupt being in the moment to take them). I have an invitation for the end of the month to consider. But I'm still not over the rush of having idly asked the universe for something and actually had it granted.
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