September 9th: what a day. Facebook memories lets me know that historically it’s been a day of drastic change. All those years ago my first visit to Portlandwhen the Priest and I decided to move here. Two years ago my doing what felt like my first “real” erotica reading along side Rachel Kramer Bussel. I was so nervous I could barely stand let alone hold the mic. My return to Portland last year after having visited the Midwest for the first time in 6 years, with the realization that as much as I love some of the people there, I don't belong in Wisconsin because my chosen family and everything I love is here in Portland.
Big, crazy hard days. And last Friday was no different.
I started the day terrified, curled up around Mr Right having not slept. Instead I spent the night listening to him breathe, enjoying the rare role swap of me watching him at rest. My arm around him, hand on his heart feeling his body at ease while my restless brain turned over endlessly. But still I felt thankful that in all this madness at the very least I have a quality partner in crime, one thing in my life I’m pretty sure about.
Someone to hold me when I can’t be strong. Someone to tie me up and torment me with tickles interspersed with deep kisses to bring some sweetness to a long day. Someone who shows me his art and enjoys mine. Someone who loves the whole rope thing as much as I do, who never rolls his eyes when I get out my jute.
He tried his best to exhaust me the night before. Applying hands and mouth and rope until we were both sweaty and spent. His body temporarily distracting me from the pain and uncertainty in my head but not able to force me into rest. So I breathed in the smell of our sex on his back as I worried all night.
Would I have the ovaries to stand up to my current evil workplace boss? Would I be able to stand up for myself and ask for what I was worth from the new boss? Would I ever have a job that left me with enough energy to peruse my book related business in my off times? How could everything be on the verge of being alright and feel this scary?
Mr Right woke with a start to my alarm and reflexively pulled me close, calming the sadness inside me slightly. I at least felt strong enough to face my boss so I sent him the message I’d been dreading and treated myself to relaxing into Mr Right’s embrace, so warm and close. But the anxiety weasel that inhabited me then wouldn’t let me be at ease so I turned to face Mr Right, looking at his sleepy smile.
“You were the roly poley one last night.”
I nod and he kisses my forehead. If I didn’t have the brick wall of fear and faux toughness up so high, that tenderness would be enough to break me into tears. Instead I smile and pet his curls. “I’m scared. Everything could be so good soon but right now the up in the air-ness is driving me crazy. I couldn’t sleep at all.”
He holds my face. “I’m here for you. I care tons for you. I think it will be great.”
My wall crumbles and I cuddle him as tight as possible until he gets up to make us coffee. Just as I’m getting ready to send a scary, salary negotiation email to the job I want, my soon to be new boss writes to say he thought it over and will give me my original offer. And my current boss is uncharacteristically kind when I talk to him. Everything will be okay!
I celebrate the death of brain weasels by taking my coffee in one hand and Mr Right’s booty in the other. We play hooky for the morning and get brunch where Mr Right promptly learns that more amusing than drunk Emily or sex high Emily is sleep deprived Emily. He just sits across from me with an eye brow raised while taking in my random explosions of weird story telling.
Afterwards he goes into work and I head home to finalize the new job and therefore a new better less stressful life. I get a haircut. I treat myself to dinner where the host seats me in the single ladies reading alone on a Friday night section. Where it isn’t until the other lady gets up to leave that we realize we know each other from the writing community. That would explain her great taste in reading material. But what a small world.
I further treat myself to a movie at a theater in a neighborhood I never go to. My ex lives 5 blocks away and previously running into him would have been untenable, but I don’t care about running into him anymore. That part of my life is over, I've moved on. After all my life now is great! And the new era is only just beginning; you better believe I celebrated all weekend with rope and snuggles.