ask, and you shall receive

two birds of a different feather

I’ve been reading a book lately about relationships, specifically about making relationships work. It’s called The Seven Principles for Making Marriage Work (affiliate link). I’m not married, no, and my relationship is working just fine, but it seems to me that everywhere I turn, relationships are failing and it makes me nervous. One of my good friends here is in a marriage that on the outside seems lovely, but it turns out is on the brink of collapse. A couple that ML and I are good friends with and who were living together broke up. My parents are moving forward with divorce procedures. It’s enough to make me start to withdraw into the safe dark hole I keep for myself as a last resort, a hole that makes me feel safe and guarded from exposure, but a hole that isn’t particularly good for ML to be able to find me. And so, I’m reading this book.

Part of it is that apparently one of my values is order (surprise!) and another of my values is mastery. (This I have learned from exercises I’ve done with the help of my career coach.) Reading about things and preparing for things helps me feel in control of things; creating a working system for dealing with problems helps me feel productive and confident and content. Plus, a book of seven principles? A list of ways to have a good relationship? Based on research? That produces results? Count me in. I love shit like that. It’s like a problem-solving triage. In a fight? Let’s go through our seven principles to make sure we’re not getting in a nasty shouting match flooding gridlock.

Thing is, ML gets sort of skeeved by my reading relationship self-help books. “We’re fine,” she said, “why do you need to read that?” Because I want to, because it helps me feel secure. With relationships failing all the time, I like to be sure I’m doing everything I can to keep ours on solid footing. And I want to be intentional about it, rather than one day years from now waking up and realizing that we’ve let it slide. “Ok then,” she said, “but you don’t expect me to read it, right?” No, I don’t. I don’t expect her to read it.

But then I realized I was fighting some voice in my head that was all she doesn’t want to work for this relationship as much as you do. She’s not as invested in it as you are. She just wants it to be easy, which means that when it’s not she’s going to run. And I let that little voice in my head kick around for a day or two, feeling a bit uneasy. And yet, as I was reading the book, I was learning that we already adhere to all the principles, just by accident, just because we’re awesome. And then I came to the principle about how to solve problems, and how to recognize which problems are perpetual because they’re grounded in something other than the surface problem, because they’re grounded in clashes that run much deeper… and I read how when you find a problem like that, it’s going to be one that strikes a nerve, and what you have to do is figure out what the actual problem is and relate to each other and be willing to understand what that actual problem is in order to get anywhere. And I realized that the actual problem in the whole little-voice-in-my-head-saying-she’s-not-working-as-hard situation is really this: I like to know, I like to have solutions, I like to be prepared, I like to have a system for things, I like to plan ahead. So reading a relationship book is a way for me to have all that, to appease my want for a personal sense of security. As for her? She doesn’t care for any of that, she doesn’t try to always be prepared, she certainly doesn’t have systems in place for things, and she’s not much of one for planning ahead. She just takes things as they come. In fact, for her, seeing me reading this book made her feel a little uneasy, because it looked to her like I thought there already were problems that I needed to turn to a book to fix. For her, it triggered an insecurity that she was doing something wrong that I wasn’t communicating to her.

And once I understood that that’s what was going on, I was flooded with … something. Not relief, really. Just calm. This is just the two of us, it’s the way we work. We have different values, different stuff going on in the backdrops of our minds, different perceptions of the same scenario. And with that understanding of what’s actually going on in our minds, beyond the surface tension of why-don’t-you-value-our-relationship vs. why-do-you-think-our-relationship-has-problems, it’s so much easier to value and respect our differences, and to accept them without being critical, defensive, or insecure. So, for me, the book has already been helpful. It’s already helped me see that every relationship has those kinds of differences, and the point is to handle them graciously and with a willingness to learn about each other, rather than a desire to force one another to change.

So now I can continue reading the book without her being suspicious, and I’m completely okay with her not ever reading it. And in fact? We had a really good conversation about one of the concepts I’ve picked up in it (an argument will end in the same tone in which it started, or worse, which means if an argument starts out harshly and defensively, we can’t expect it to end gently and respectfully!), and she was receptive to talking about it, and it was helpful for both of us.

I’m continually in awe of our capacity for loving and understanding each other.

eulogy for a vibrator

A few days ago, my vibrator died.

I had had Patchy Paul for almost five years. Sometime last year, some of the settings stopped working, but you know how it is when you have that thing that gets you off, completely reliably, in under 10 minutes? It used to be my hands, but as soon as I got this vibrator I knew I’d found my vibrating soul mate. And though I can still use my hands in a pinch, if I had Paulchen within reach (don’t worry, I didn’t actually call it that), Paulchen it would always be. So even when some of the settings stopped working, I didn’t give up on it. I probably spent more money on batteries last year than it would have cost to buy a new vibrator, that’s how much I loved this vibrator.

But, after some of the settings stopped working, eventually the settings that still worked started being unreliable. They would require that I hold it at a very particular angle, or that I apply firm pressure to a particular point on the battery compartment. And eventually even the strongest setting wasn’t enough for me anymore. But still, I kept on, changing the batteries every time so that the vibration would be strong enough to get me off. I can’t tell you how many times I walked over to Good Vibes to buy a replacement, and how many times I walked out empty-handed — not because they didn’t carry Patchy Paul anymore (they don’t, but they carry other Fun Factory models that are just about comparable aside from the color and ridging), but because I just couldn’t believe that another vibrator would ever be able to replace the one I had.

What was it, exactly, about this vibrator? Well, the main thing was that the vibration (on the highest setting) was quite powerful, and yet the head is small enough that it focused the vibration directly enough on my clit (as opposed to the Hitachi and Hitachi-like vibrators which have very large heads and tend to numb me without their add-ons!). It’s a dildo, so I could put it inside me, or even (one of my favorite things ever) put the head inside me and lean the shaft up so it was against my clit too. Yummmmmmmmmmmmmmmy orgasm. (I think I might be getting wet right now as I’m typing this.) AND, it wasn’t too loud. I mean, it wasn’t silent or anything, but the drone of the vibrator, even on the highest setting, could be easily drowned out by music. (Important when you have roommates.) And it was silicone, which feels lovely and is easy to clean.

But then. Tragedy struck. I was in the middle of getting off, I had just put new batteries in, it was strong enough! And everything! I was getting worked up, my breathing was uneven, I was in heavenly climbing-to-orgasm-land. And it just stopped. All of a sudden. Dead.

And I was very, very, very, very, very sad. And distraught, because there I was getting close to orgasm and my vibrator had fucking died. I had to whip out my other vibrator (which is a lovely vibrator, don’t get me wrong, but it isn’t strong enough for me) to finish the job. And it ended up taking quite a while and was immensely frustrating.

There isn’t a real point of this story except that people! My vibrator died, in the middle of my using it! You should feel sorry for me.

(PS: I still haven’t replaced it. I bought a Mystic Wand to see if maybe it was a good replacement because it’s a bit cheaper and also even stronger than the Patchy Paul, and I like strong, but I have to say the Mystic Wand is maybe too strong for me, or maybe it, like the Hitachi, is just too big and not focused enough, or maybe there’s nothing actually wrong with it except that it isn’t Patchy Paul. So honestly? I should just go out and get another Patchy Paul.)