Absinthe's Second Trip to Michigan (Long)
Christmas went nice. We sent each other some gifts, and it was sweet. (He still doesn't know how much of a holiday freak I am yet, but he will...)
But in the spring / late winter of this year, he decided to come up for another weekend. I had a long talk with Waffles beforehand. I wanted none of the shit that happened the time before, and, for the most part, I got my way.
It's hard for me to remember a lot of the specifics of this trip. I might have been overworked at the time or something. But I really do struggle to remember everything from this time.
There was a time when I was teaching a class he came to sit in on, and we sexted while my students were working. Later that night, we did our usual sex game again, doing various poses from furry sex art.
But the next day, we went on a few adventures.
For one, we hit up the local mall, something Absinthe hadn't been able to do in a while, I think. There was a trampoline / jungle gym style place in the mall, and I said what the hell and dragged him in. We tried an obstacle course (that we both failed at), played dodgeball (I kicked his ass), and did laser tag (he kicked my ass). It was a sheer blast.
Shortly after (if memory serves me correctly), we hit up the graveyard.
So, I have this hobby. It's called letterboxing. The way it works (very similar to geocaching) is that there's a website (I think atlasquest) where you can find clues to specific locations throughout the world where eager adventurers like yourself have placed little packages. (There's a whole stamping element to it, but I just do it to see if I can find the packages.) You have to try to find them! To give you a hint of scale, in my town of Lansing, there are around twenty different clue sets. Back in Nashville, I think there were around fifty.
But near where I lived is a clue trail, a set of something like ten packages hidden on a trail throughout the local cemetery. So, as most of my bad ideas being, I said what the hell. I dragged Sin along.
It was cold. It was muggy. I held his hand so tight as we walked along the pavement, tracing our eyes over each gravestone. The names on the stones were the clues we had to follow. About a third of the way through our journey in the misty twilight, I said again, "What the hell."
I started making up the clues. "Oh, it says this one will be behind that big tree over there." He followed, completely oblivious to a fox's wiles.
And that's the story of how Sin had his first experience of getting head in a graveyard.
Since then, he and I both wrote poems about that experience. Rather than telling you how that went, I'd rather just share with you both poems. For the best experience, I encourage you to read his first, then mine.~ (I know it's work to go and click another link, but if you've read this far, I promise it's worth it, plus it's short.)
His: https://degenerateweasel.weebly.com/home/ive-never-been-blown-in-a-graveyard-before
Mine:
why i like giving head in the graveyard
i never planned on it
not this time
but to the dead you saw
I'm not sorry.
i pulled you back
off the paved path
away from the nicer headstones
away from the gardens and statues
and behind
a tree.
the ghosts whose names were not
graced
with stone or inscription
were the ones who watched us.
when I pulled your pants down to your ankles,
we gave them a show.
when I sucked your cock--loud and hard--
we were louder
and harder
than the chains they rattled at us.
when I pulled your pants back up,
your dick still hard,
I smiled at you.
You smiled back.
when you turned around,
I looked over my shoulder and
winked back at
them.
those old timers--
powerless,
ethereal,
archaic--
hold no sway
over the heretics
trampling their graves.
i lick the pre off my lips
lover
the restless dead.
those poor fucks.
they only haunt the place
where the living mourn.
not where the living live.
where my spit and your pre landed,
they get nourishment that is beyond
chemical.
let them watch.
let them curse us under their
breathless
breaths.
let them.
my fingers entangle yours.
our bones loud and hard above theirs.
i too am hungry.
but the night...
...it's just getting started.
--------------------------------------------
By the way, don't listen to a word Sin ever tells you. I suck at poetry. I still find it sweet to get to try and be romantic with him through poetry, but I still suck at it. He was the real poet of us two. Always was and is. He makes words breathe, while mine gag around the dogears of the cheap pages they're written on.
But, at any rate, it was a much sadder goodbye this time. It always is, each time.
Waffles waited until Sin got to the airport to begin his fit.
They had a fight while Sin was still at the airport and then one when he got home. The first was about the pictures Sin and I had posted on Twitter (mostly of the trampoline place), which had made Waffles jealous. The second became a lot broader, about how Waffles read into his behaviors with me that Sin didn't ever want to go out and do anything with Waffles, about the state of the house, and more. It lasted a few hours.
For the first few months of the year, I heard those words so many times: "Waffles and I just had a fight."
The more it happened, the more it broke my heart.
Being polyam is no different than being monoam. But it definitely has unique challenges.
One of those is that it's hard to say what the limits are when something like this happens. I was dating Sin. Sin was married to Waffles. Eventually, Waffles hit a point of objective abuse. I don't feel it's my place to say the quote here, but pretty much imagine the worst thing one lover can say to another. Yeah, that. So, a big struggle for me at the time was, when I heard about this stuff, what am I allowed to say to my partner about his relationship with his spouse without threatening any boundaries? You're always told in polyam discourse to respect your partner's other relationships even if you don't necessarily like the other person(s). And I think that's right. But I think, perhaps, there's a clear limit when a relationship becomes abusive.
Basically, I told Sin this. I told him about my own anxieties and about all my thoughts. I told him that at any point he could tell me to shut up and I would, no questions asked. I didn't want to push him whatsoever. But I also wanted to be upfront and honest about my thoughts.
A few weeks after his trip to Michigan, he decided on it: divorce.
To an outsider, it might look like it was my direct fault. But think about it this way, especially since this was a long-distance relationship: He dealt with this every day. Verbal and emotional abuse every fucking day. If you read his poetry (check out his book Cut the Loss here), you will see that he tackles a lot of these concerns in the book. I'm pretty damn confident the "seeds" were planted before Sin and I ever started dating. Certainly, when he read Codependent No More, that helped him a ton, too.
But the day he started looking at divorce paperwork, I felt bad for him. I decided to surprise him. I showed him that I had bought tickets for he and I to go to DisneyWorld this summer together. It put a smile on his face, and that made everything about the trip worth it already.
But in the spring / late winter of this year, he decided to come up for another weekend. I had a long talk with Waffles beforehand. I wanted none of the shit that happened the time before, and, for the most part, I got my way.
It's hard for me to remember a lot of the specifics of this trip. I might have been overworked at the time or something. But I really do struggle to remember everything from this time.
There was a time when I was teaching a class he came to sit in on, and we sexted while my students were working. Later that night, we did our usual sex game again, doing various poses from furry sex art.
Sin after I did his hair for the first time~
But the next day, we went on a few adventures.
For one, we hit up the local mall, something Absinthe hadn't been able to do in a while, I think. There was a trampoline / jungle gym style place in the mall, and I said what the hell and dragged him in. We tried an obstacle course (that we both failed at), played dodgeball (I kicked his ass), and did laser tag (he kicked my ass). It was a sheer blast.
Both Sin and I at the trampoline place. Also, admire carefully how Sin holds the battle stick in the second photo. My bae be hung~
Shortly after (if memory serves me correctly), we hit up the graveyard.
So, I have this hobby. It's called letterboxing. The way it works (very similar to geocaching) is that there's a website (I think atlasquest) where you can find clues to specific locations throughout the world where eager adventurers like yourself have placed little packages. (There's a whole stamping element to it, but I just do it to see if I can find the packages.) You have to try to find them! To give you a hint of scale, in my town of Lansing, there are around twenty different clue sets. Back in Nashville, I think there were around fifty.
But near where I lived is a clue trail, a set of something like ten packages hidden on a trail throughout the local cemetery. So, as most of my bad ideas being, I said what the hell. I dragged Sin along.
It was cold. It was muggy. I held his hand so tight as we walked along the pavement, tracing our eyes over each gravestone. The names on the stones were the clues we had to follow. About a third of the way through our journey in the misty twilight, I said again, "What the hell."
I started making up the clues. "Oh, it says this one will be behind that big tree over there." He followed, completely oblivious to a fox's wiles.
And that's the story of how Sin had his first experience of getting head in a graveyard.
How hung you ask? This hung.
Since then, he and I both wrote poems about that experience. Rather than telling you how that went, I'd rather just share with you both poems. For the best experience, I encourage you to read his first, then mine.~ (I know it's work to go and click another link, but if you've read this far, I promise it's worth it, plus it's short.)
His: https://degenerateweasel.weebly.com/home/ive-never-been-blown-in-a-graveyard-before
Mine:
why i like giving head in the graveyard
i never planned on it
not this time
but to the dead you saw
I'm not sorry.
i pulled you back
off the paved path
away from the nicer headstones
away from the gardens and statues
and behind
a tree.
the ghosts whose names were not
graced
with stone or inscription
were the ones who watched us.
when I pulled your pants down to your ankles,
we gave them a show.
when I sucked your cock--loud and hard--
we were louder
and harder
than the chains they rattled at us.
when I pulled your pants back up,
your dick still hard,
I smiled at you.
You smiled back.
when you turned around,
I looked over my shoulder and
winked back at
them.
those old timers--
powerless,
ethereal,
archaic--
hold no sway
over the heretics
trampling their graves.
i lick the pre off my lips
lover
the restless dead.
those poor fucks.
they only haunt the place
where the living mourn.
not where the living live.
where my spit and your pre landed,
they get nourishment that is beyond
chemical.
let them watch.
let them curse us under their
breathless
breaths.
let them.
my fingers entangle yours.
our bones loud and hard above theirs.
i too am hungry.
but the night...
...it's just getting started.
--------------------------------------------
By the way, don't listen to a word Sin ever tells you. I suck at poetry. I still find it sweet to get to try and be romantic with him through poetry, but I still suck at it. He was the real poet of us two. Always was and is. He makes words breathe, while mine gag around the dogears of the cheap pages they're written on.
But, at any rate, it was a much sadder goodbye this time. It always is, each time.
Waffles waited until Sin got to the airport to begin his fit.
They had a fight while Sin was still at the airport and then one when he got home. The first was about the pictures Sin and I had posted on Twitter (mostly of the trampoline place), which had made Waffles jealous. The second became a lot broader, about how Waffles read into his behaviors with me that Sin didn't ever want to go out and do anything with Waffles, about the state of the house, and more. It lasted a few hours.
For the first few months of the year, I heard those words so many times: "Waffles and I just had a fight."
The more it happened, the more it broke my heart.
Being polyam is no different than being monoam. But it definitely has unique challenges.
One of those is that it's hard to say what the limits are when something like this happens. I was dating Sin. Sin was married to Waffles. Eventually, Waffles hit a point of objective abuse. I don't feel it's my place to say the quote here, but pretty much imagine the worst thing one lover can say to another. Yeah, that. So, a big struggle for me at the time was, when I heard about this stuff, what am I allowed to say to my partner about his relationship with his spouse without threatening any boundaries? You're always told in polyam discourse to respect your partner's other relationships even if you don't necessarily like the other person(s). And I think that's right. But I think, perhaps, there's a clear limit when a relationship becomes abusive.
Basically, I told Sin this. I told him about my own anxieties and about all my thoughts. I told him that at any point he could tell me to shut up and I would, no questions asked. I didn't want to push him whatsoever. But I also wanted to be upfront and honest about my thoughts.
A few weeks after his trip to Michigan, he decided on it: divorce.
To an outsider, it might look like it was my direct fault. But think about it this way, especially since this was a long-distance relationship: He dealt with this every day. Verbal and emotional abuse every fucking day. If you read his poetry (check out his book Cut the Loss here), you will see that he tackles a lot of these concerns in the book. I'm pretty damn confident the "seeds" were planted before Sin and I ever started dating. Certainly, when he read Codependent No More, that helped him a ton, too.
But the day he started looking at divorce paperwork, I felt bad for him. I decided to surprise him. I showed him that I had bought tickets for he and I to go to DisneyWorld this summer together. It put a smile on his face, and that made everything about the trip worth it already.
Me and my Sin.
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