It moves me


Of the many things I’ve taken with me from my past, few of them have made it this far into my life. I try to shed those elements of my past that do not help push me into a more positive future. One such thing I’ve kept is running.

This was not entirely by choice, much like finding yourself humming to a new tune only because you’ve heard it on the radio so frequently. It gets embedded. I find myself wanting to go running, regardless of many other variables.

Sometimes, you need to stretch your legs.

I never considered myself a runner, even less when doing it the most [in the military]. I still don’t. It’s not something I do because it’s a part of my life and I identify with all those other ground-pounders hittin’ the pavement. I do it because a) I enjoy it, and b) at times I need it. I must say though, I do not mind the positive effect it’s having on my body. I certainly won’t complain about having sexy legs…

So, more importantly and more contextually relevant, I feel the music I listen to whilst running is important. It plays a part in my performance. I need something with a good, steady beat and lot’s of energy. It’s got to make me want to push harder, to go faster and to take my mind off my aching shins and my tired calves. I need something that elicits strong emotion within my current state of mind.

In the past, I’ve listened to Daft Punk, Justice, and other techno beats to do the job for me. The problem is, much like a good drug, the effect decreases over time. I need to switch it up.

Typically, I prefer to find whole albums with a continuous feel, rather than stitch together a playlist of several artists and genres. More recently, I discovered a new sub-genre and selection of artists perfectly suited to this activity of mine, thanks to a friend. The genre is Dubstep, and yes, I can hear you shake your head. This kind of music almost always has a good beat and strong energy, not to mention some enjoyable bass drops. My favorite DJ/group/artist in this recent discovery has been Skrillex. The album: Bangarang.

Skrillex: Bangarang

Hopefully you can see why this would be a good choice for runnin’ tunes.

However, I have pretty much played that album out [until such a time as I come back to it]. SO, with some inspired searching I found something new I enjoy almost as much, yet is fresh.

The Glitch Mob: Drink the Sea

If you have suggestions or ideas for more runnin’ tunes, please feel more than encouraged to drop a note in the comments. I’m always looking to discover some new audible inspiration.

Does this ring make me look fat?

All is fair in love and war

If that were true, we’d be falling in love near every day. Either that or killing each other.
I am in love, but it’s a love like an old, comfortable pair of shoes. It fits well and doesn’t give me blisters.
I love my shoes.
This however does not mean I do not enjoy trying on or buying new shoes. I just haven’t done it in a very long time. Very long.
Apparently, my comfy shoes make all the new shoes out there not want to fit well, not want to come home with me…

I’ve recently decided that wearing my wedding ring in public is not something I want to do anymore. I feel it’s like closing a door that could otherwise be left easily open. I have spoken to my SO about this, and we both agree that a material object does not, by any means, define our love or relationship, and nothing could ever be significant enough to symbolize such. At least, nothing in the known three-dimensional reality we call home…
So, I will, from now on, be either ring-less, or wearing it about my neck on a cord.
Here’s my reasoning.
If I were to go, say, grocery shopping and a rather striking woman finds me attractive enough for a second look, she’ll probably next glance towards my hand to check for signs of availability. Seeing such, she’d most likely write me off as not worth the time to investigate further.
However, sans ring I might stand a chance of at least engaging further interest.
This is my hope at least, and by taking the ring from my finger, I lose nothing.

Although part of me, that tiny voice of protest, says ‘Why bother anyway? When you tell them you’re married, it’ll come to the same thing’.
Whatever, here goes something…

The shoes love her

My SO, henceforth known as D, is rockin’ the dating world. She’s had several dates previously, and just yesterday fit in two, with one good connection.
I’m happy for D, I really am. Really.
Tomorrow, she’s got two more dates, one second date with a fellow from yesterday. Then, on Saturday, D’s heading over to the house of one of her beaus from the previous week, whom she enjoyed a good connection with. This date will entail him cooking dinner and…
In all likelihood, I expect them to have sex.
This, in and of itself, bothers me not. I think it’s great she’s found someone who sees her for who she truly is and appreciates her enough to not only wine and dine her, but also have a romantic, physical interest in her as well.
What does bother me has to do with that damned green monster.
I want some connection too, preferably mutual.
In short, I want to fall in love. I don’t want to want it, but there it is all the same.
I want that rush, that ache, that pain. The gasping for air in a quiet room, the it-hurts-so-bad-i-can’t-live-without-it kind of need for another person.
Call me a junky, I’ll say you’re probably right.
In any case, yay for D! I’ve rarely seen her happier, and it all seems to only solidify her love for me, so good I say. Good, and let what happens happen.
Follow your heart, and let not caution hold you back from happiness!

In coming news, an update on my own dating success so far…

For now, I’ll leave you with this piece of music that’s been persistently beating around my head:


With an upcoming road trip and oodles of historical words to put to digital paper, There will be no outpouring of emotion and thought today. Please, please, no weeping.

For now, I shall leave you with this:


She’s not my wife

When I mentioned previously that I’d rather not refer to my wife as such, there was good reason behind that.

I am married. This I do not plan to change. By technical definition, we are husband and wife I suppose. However, with our recent realization into polyamory, the term my wife has begun to bother me. Specifically, the my part. Too much of the statement “This is my wife” implies possession. I am married to a person, an individual. She is not my better half (not that she’s not better), she’s not my other half, she’s not half anything. She is a complete, autonomous human being, and as such does not deserve another placing ownership on her. She is not my wife. We are married. We are significant others to each other. For now, as I leave the future open, we are primaries. We have children together, we have a mortgage together, and we have things together. In the context of referring to her, I would prefer to say she is my SO (significant other). While I recognize the use of my here as well, to me it is less specific and less possessive.

Regardless of the moniker, I love her. She is not my only love, or if she is need not remain as such, but I love her and this is what matters.

Boiling out the imperfections

This is a hard matter for me to write about, for I know people actually read this. By nature, my insecurities are hard for me to talk about, regardless of the medium.

In the spirit of laying bare my insides for better comprehension, I’ll ramble awhile on what’s got me trippin’ this time.

Since the beginning of this poly-adventure, insecurities have been under the microscope and in the cross-hairs. While this has not rid them from the system, realistic expectations help with coping with change.

My biggest insecurity source? Self-esteem.

I have a hard time thinking much of myself, and I feel modesty only covers so much. The rest must be simple self-esteem issues. I have little confidence in who I am and what I can do.

While I, like most, have days on either end of the spectrum, the point of equilibrium tends to fall somewhat below the norm.

So, what’s got my head spiraling towards the dark?

A bit of context is in order.

Since day 0, my SO had at least a quasi-beau, albeit long distance. Their relationship has only grown since then, for which I am very happy. I respect my metamour for who he is and how he treats my SO.

Since then, she has been on at least three dates with as many men (on one as of this writing). While there is a whole other post in her interpretation of the levels between shaking hands and sex, suffice it to say she takes things farther than I would have were I in her place.

While I am aware it is futile and counterproductive to measure my progress by the success of another in matters such as this, I can’t help but see what attention she is receiving, and my lack thereof.

This is not to say I have received nill. I have started online friendships with a few women, all of which has been more or less platonic.

Last week, as you’ve no doubt read of below, I went on what became somewhat of a date.

In any case, I have been getting a certain overall feeling from my conversations with various parties. I am working on being more of a conversationalist, and try to overcome those introverted barriers that keep me from those topics I am most uncomfortable with. As such, I ask questions, partly because I am truly interested. I have always been a better listener than speaker, however. So, what feeling has my darker side been nudging me to give credence to? Lack of interest.

I’ve just been feeling a lack of interest from others lately.

Yes, this is all paranoid delusions of a depressive nature, etc.

It does not change how I feel. While I love hearing about other people and what makes them tick, I like to share who I am as well. I guess that’s partly why I started writing here. An outlet for my self expression and desires to be known.

For those reading this who feel you’ve been slighted by my emotions; I say take no offense. I recognize there is little foundation for such things outside that dark corner of my mind, but putting words to feeling is one way for me to move through it and become a better version of who I am.

You want to help, you say? Great! Find something you are genuinely curious about and ask me. I don’t need to feel that I am interesting, I just rather feel that you are interested.

So here ends my rant on my most current insecurity. What should you take from this? Compassion. Understanding. Learn to feel what another feels and care about it.

Run on, children, for a long time

Pushing myself to nearly double my performance?

Please Sir, I’d like some more!

2.5 miles out, 2.5 miles back.

A 5 mile run today, and my shins are feeling it.

All accomplished within 50 minutes, which averages to 10 minutes per mile.

That’s no speeding bullet, but after 5 miles it aint too shabby, and I’m not complaining.

Why, you ask? Why should I push myself and, forgodsake, why run in the first place?

Zombie Apocalypse

What can’t catch you, can’t eat you

Seriously though, because I enjoy it. It centers me. It’s zen. It’s an important part of my meditation. And it’s fun

It burns a shitton of calories too.

I mean, 5 miles!


A day in the life

The weekend is nothing more than an extension of what was. With both of us at home pretty much full time, today is yesterday and tomorrow is today.

Friends. This is possibly one of my favorite shows. Watching it at what feels like such an older age makes me realize how much I identified with and perhaps was modeling myself after Mr. Bing. With this poly adventure, it adds a new lens on how I view a lot of things in life, and I wonder how, were the story and characters real, things might have shifted for all parties involved had they known of and embraced polyamory.

If we allow ourselves such paths toward growth, the pain we put ourselves through needlessly will diminish. This I know.

Poly at the Park

Via a forum for the local community, a meetup was scheduled for this evening at a semi-local park. It being summer and people being busy, it turned out to be a sparse collection of people. I was there with my children, as well as a few others (one family) from the forum. Good conversation and some community connection. I enjoyed hearing another’s perspective in person, and having my perspective justified face to face.

This needs to happen more. I need to meet more. I need to assimilate myself into society in new ways and implant other people into my life. I need to shed this hide-in-the-corner wallflower of a introvert side.

I need to grow.

Ramble on

I have this deep desire, this undercurrent of need, to bring people around me, to surround myself with people who are able and willing to give back the love I feel I need to share…

I need to use fewer commas.

- Continuing the line of emotion – : When I think of intimacy, when I think of being as close to someone as I feel is possible for two bodies, I do not think of sex. For me, the intimacy of bared skin touching, of eyes locking, of tight embraces and feeling another’s heart beat against my own is what my mind creates. I think of hands on skin, of learning the texture of flesh, I think of intimacy in the knowing of another, physically, emotionally and intellectually. Seeing their emotions play out across their face and across their skin, hearing their breath catch as you pull them closer…

This is not sex. Sex is an action born of these things, yet is less. Sex can be many things and can be very great, but this is greater.

A kiss to me is a childhood memory. A kiss is a dark fear, an untold secret. It is personal.

Sex has been turned into too much a product.

Sex is only great when it comes with these things.

The thought continues

I am not sure yet if it is the action or the object of the action. I fail to shake it from my mind. It comes back like a sore tooth, oft ebbing, but never gone. I desire a take two, a second round, but I fear it will no more clear my mind. The kiss was bliss, but was it this? Was it this thing of which I seek? Or was it animal, a primal action sending surges of neuropeptides in patterns anew?

Do I desire her, or do I desire it?

I wish to speak of these things, to converse in depth and context.

I fear she can not. She can not, for she is ready not for the gravity.

I do know this. I desire her legs, again astride mine. I desire her lips, pressed to mine. I desire her body, close to mine.

These things I know. I wish to know more.


Disclaimer: this was intended as a place for me to not worry about pulling punches. I will lay it on as thick as it flows. No holds barred.

Summer 2012. Currently taking two online courses, doing what I can to finish this whenwillitend degree. I think this blog is going to be, like so many other things, a way for me to not do my homework. No bueno. The prospect of me failing these courses is starting to worry me. I fucking better not. Fall semester is going to be insane.

A foray into polyamory, Part 1:

While there are a few women I am keeping my sights on currently, one in particular is in the forefront of my mind. Whilst perusing the chaos that is OKCupid, I came across a face I felt was familiar. As it turns out, she is a former coworker of mine (we never really spoke much then) and someone I was always attracted to. Of course I had to message her.

Lots of messaging later (all platonic and conversational), we decide it’d be cool to meet up over dinner. Last Wednesday, 10pm rolls around and I roll up to her front door to pick her up. Yes, my SO (Significant Other – stay tuned for a rant on why I’d prefer to not call her my wife) knew, approved and even suggested some things I wasn’t even considering being ready for, let alone this new attraction of mine. So off we go, late dinner at a local chain restaurant. The place closes within 45 minutes of us sitting down, so we finish eating a few minutes after closing time. The place had been practically deserted when we arrived, so I almost felt bad for our waitress being kept busy so late. Almost. A drink each has been had, and I inquire as to what step 2 of the night should be, or if I should drop her off and head home. She casually says she has movies. OK. So to her place we go.

Sitting on her futon, we discuss things geek and get to know each other a bit better. Debate for what to watch > GO. About an hour later, in goes a “can’t fail” nerd flick. Initiate mood lighting. Not long after, somehow gravity has pulled us closer together, and our arms are touching. Note: this is more affection I’ve received from anyone outside of my SO in probably over 10 years. I, being the awkward, cautious person I am, ask if I’m sitting too close (not wanting to offend or make her feel uncomfortable). Answer: no. Urge to turn and kiss her is up to 11. Halfway through the movie, she stretches and rubs her neck, I ask what’s wrong. Her back/neck is sore. I offer a back rub, butofcourse. This, alone, is almost enough for me. The nearly intimate touching of another’s body. The feeling of the intricacies of her muscle, bone and curves. Almost enough. It takes a good deal of courage (as I’m not the most confident man), but it’s bursting out of me. I tell her I’ve been wanting to kiss her for, at the least,  the past hour. Much blushing by both parties. She leans back and turns her head, and it happens. This shit just got real.

With lips touching and arms embraced, I’m swimming in emotions I expected never to have again. I am hesitant. I am eager but I am conservative in my exploration. Hands on thighs, caressing her neck, I am more aware of my own body under her hands. Breath shallow and bodies touching. Her lips firm, her tongue reserved, and I am content. I need not lead things further, but I recognize the possibility exists. It is comfortable, and it is raw. Attraction, lust, friendship, and too many emotions to be cognizant of.

The night ends, I grab my keys and kiss her goodbye. It is just as good as the first. Smiles and goodbyes, and a hug fit for lovers. Cue the late night drive home and a smile plastered to my face.

I am still working through my emotions of all this. I don’t know what I would want out of a relationship, were one to bloom out of this. The night was not intended as a date, as an exploration of the physical when we were expecting nothing. I would not turn down a replay, a continuation of that night. Things are complicated though, and more complication is not something I welcome in my life right now. I would like, preferably, to make things simpler. To make things clear and understood and wonderful. I would like to explore where this would go, but there is some foundation yet missing.

We shall see.

For now I process.

//This is where the fun begins.

For my sanity.

For getting it out.

For writing.

For anonymity and expression.

For “What the hell, might as well”.

A 20-something going on 30-something Dad. I capitalize Dad because it should be a proper noun (that’s what they call me, isn’t it?).

Married (happily) for 8 years (I think it’s 8…).

Adventures in parenting for the last 7.

Newest adventure: polyamory (read: Holy Shit).

This is where my brain and my emotions/confusions will have an outlet.

Bear with me, things are going to be a bit raw.