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Polyamory Q&A: Question 11 (hints)

Is there something you just wish you did better?

You know something sweetheart, I’m glad you asked that question. As it turns out, there is something I wish I was better at.

I wish I were better at getting and interpreting hints as they’re being dropped.

See, there have been times in my life, when I wasn’t just the handsome, charming and debonair fellow you see before me. There was a time, long ago, when I was down right pretty. I say this with no ego or self aggrandizement, because it never did me a bit of good seeing as no one ever mentioned it to me until it was far, far too late to do anything about it. By the time the phrase “Too pretty for words” came along, I wasn’t anymore. Weight and age had laid upon me and I was no longer the heart wrenching beauty I once was. Sadly, this really was something I didn’t know I had until it was gone.

It seems, as I have been told later, that about 98.7% of all females fell into a maddening, lustful, unrequited, crush that was akin to the gravitational force of a black hole. Only, unlike those massive dead stars, you could escape because I had no idea of the powerful draw I possessed in those days. Evidently, when there were mass faintings, I just assumed that there was some kind of gas, or I didn’t notice them fainting, or I was busy talking to someone, or… something. I have been told that it was happening though, just as I left the room all the girls would collapse and fan themselves and make sighing noises AND THAT’S NOT FAIR!

Why they couldn’t have done it while I was in the room… I don’t know. I was not consulted on this; no one asked my opinion at the time, and if they had I would have suggested changes. Most the females I knew in High School that were candid enough to discuss this were lesbians and didn’t see the attraction because they weren’t into men. When my opinion was asked for later, upon someone revealing that she had carried a massive crush torch for me all through high school, I said that she could have done things differently. Actually, I remember swearing and saying that I never even had an inkling of an insinuation that she wanted me. I remember a string of profanity and vocabulary words spewing forth, because that’s sort of what I do sometimes.

You remember me talking about red socks a while ago? This girl claimed that she had worn the local equivalent of red socks around me for four years just hoping and praying I would notice. Now, we were friendly, but I have to tell you that I NEVER saw the myriad of signals she claims she was throwing my way. By the time she was telling me this, she had hooked up with a nice guy and I was with Syd and the word “Poly” wasn’t even a thing yet and, and, and… nothing. Nothing ever came of that because it was too late to do anything about it. However, that would not be the first time I would be so frustrated.

As I’ve gotten older, I’ve gotten no better at seeing hints and signs. The only thing that has changed is that I am now aware that such sings and hints exist. To some extent, this has made things easier, and to some extent this has made me paranoid. It’s laughable to be paranoid about ancient aliens helping the Freemasons to come over here and steal our cheese, because that’s an absurd thing to be concerned about. It is not, however, absurd to be paranoid about missing signals that you know exist and that you know you have a history of missing. See, when you have later been told that a girl talking about how she loves brown eyes and guys with long hair, directly to you – a brown eyed long haired guy, is supposed to be a hint that she’d like you to take her roughly and ravish her under the bleachers, well it makes you feel silly for not having ravished her. It makes you feel particularly silly when you spent three years thinking said girl was the seventh loveliest thing you’d ever seen and had often wondered how she’d look while being ravished under the bleachers. Sadly, I was only informed of this after ravishing, bleachers and long hair had all gone out of style. Also, said girl has since dropped to the fifteenth loveliest thing I’ve ever seen, but that’s more because I have seen so much more and less that her beauty has decreased. Also, I later learned that she was kind of a self centered jack-ass and counted myself as lucky not to get wound around her little finger like many another I knew.

Sorry, where was I? Oh, yes, hints!

Now, I’ve learned a few other things about girls since then, and a few things about grown women as well. One of the things I’ve learned is that sometimes, when a girl says she likes your hair, all she’s saying is that she likes your hair. That’s one of the really hard things to deal with, at least for me. Men are easy, men think you’re pretty and they say “You shure is perty! You got a perty mouth. I bet you could squeal like a piggy.” and then you start to run with knives drawn, ready to kill. Women are more subtle and say things that could mean they’re just making pleasant conversation, or that they’re trying to lure your dumb ass into bed if you weren’t so damn dumb and could be lured into the place you clearly really want to go. AND! Sometimes, they’re trying to sound you out, see if you’d find them slutty for wanting to bang you like a screen door in a windstorm. So, sometimes it’s a come on, sometimes it’s not a come on, and sometimes it could lead to a come on if you answer the unasked question correctly.

Now, you throw polyamory into the mix. You have friends who know where you stand, and where they stand, and yet there are times when you think they’re flirting. But then, you think that they can’t possibly be flirting beyond telling a joke, because as far as you know they aren’t poly. OR ARE THEY? Because while you’re talking to them, and they seem to be flirting, they mention that they’ve thought about living in a group situation and that the idea sort of appeals to them. Then she mentions being bi and thinking your GF is cute and letting the rest sort of hang there. I’m making it sound like those all came in one sentence, which doesn’t do her or me any favors. Of course, by the time I’d worked out what her signals meant, I’d also worked out that there was a stability problem with her.

The other reason I find this frustrating is that in other circumstances, where no sexuality is involved, I can read 99.6% of all people like a large print book. Partly it’s that I’m a good listener, partly it’s that I’ve got enough empathy to understand where a person is coming from, and partly I have a conman’s knack for observing those tiny clues about a person that even they don’t know they’re doing. Probably, a big part of my problem with hints is that I’ve probably got this whole shyness/self-esteem issues going on. Yeah, I have a natural ability to decide that those hints aren’t what I might think they possibly could be. No, it must just be pleasant conversation, she’s just answering my question in a frank and unambiguous way because she feels comfortable with me and I talk in a fairly frank and straight forward manner most the time. Yeah, that’s it, that’s why she told me what she told me in a way that could be considered provocative and alluring, not because she’s trying to tell me that her bedroom is just upstairs and gosh I’ve got nice legs.

So yeah, I wish I was better at hints and clues. While we’re at it, I would also like to no longer be dyslexic and I would enjoy a cure of ADD if you’ve got one handy. I know the question wasn’t asked in a poly poll, but I’ve decided to drop it in here anyway.

September 11, 2011 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , | Leave a comment

Last Photos for Today

This is probably the best, most achingly beautiful photo I’ve ever taken…

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and it’s of a pile of wool.

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September 11, 2011 Posted by | Photo | | Leave a comment

The Return of Jack Collier (Chapter Forty-One)

The Return of Jack Collier

A Jack Collier Story

By Brett N. Lashuay

 

 

Chapter Forty-One: Everything You Know is Wrong

 

Everything you know is wrong. Black is white, up is down and short is long. And everything you thought was just so important doesn’t matter. Everything you know is wrong. Just forget the words and sing along. All you need to understand is everything you know is wrong.

 

Weird Al Yankovick.

 

 

            I watched as Jack looked over the cliff and as he caught my eye he tipped a wink. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I didn’t like it. I’ve always sort of had the idea that there was a self-destructive streak in him. He could see that we were up against the wall and he’d decided to give up.

 

            “I’ll tell you this Pete.” He said looking at Peter Kurbisesser. “If you get me angry, I am going to kill you.”

 

            “Are you?” He asked.

 

            “I’ll come back as a ghost and fuck your shit up.” Jack smiled and laughed and looked more than a little manic. “Hide your remotes and shit.”

 

            I think I could tell what he was working himself up to before anyone else. I wanted to not be mad at him, but he was going to kill himself and leave us to our fate. He liked the idea of jumping, it would make everything so much easier. He would just smash against a sharp rock and die, like he thought he should have after getting shot.

 

            “Just tell us where Jill is.” Red said, trying to sound reasonable. He almost did sound reasonable, being an almost upstanding kind of guy. “That’s all we want.”

 

            I wanted to scream, to tell him to tell her where she was, to save us. I knew those were stupid thoughts though, if they knew where she was they’d do what they wanted to us and kill him anyway. Still, you’re not the one they said they were going to burn alive, I was. I was scared, more scared than I’d ever been. Jack looked hyped up though, he looked psyched, he looked like he could do anything. The problem with that is Jack’s a depressive and he hates himself. He thinks he’s not good enough.

 

            “I tell you what?” Jack said smiling at them. “How about you, kiss my ass?”

 

            He then turned, ran and jumped off the cliff. A second or two later we heard a crack and a scream and rocks rolling in an avalanche. The scream cut off suddenly, but the cracking sounds continued with the crashing of stones. Pete Kurbisesser ran toward the cliff with a big lamp and one the little machine guns they’d been waving as us.

 

            “Where is he?” Red asked looking over his shoulder.

 

            “I don’t see him.” Pete said and fired the machine gun down there, waving his arms around the spray the area.

 

            “Boys!” Red shouted and they were all there with machine guns. They all fired and they must have used up their bullets because they each had to reload their guns, but it seemed like they fired for a very short time.

 

            “He’s dead.” Quayle announced a few seconds after the shooting stopped. “No where for him to hide, even if he lived through the jump.”

 

            “You’re sure?”

 

            “Sure sir.” Quayle said.

 

            “Let’s get her back to the house and get her ready then.” Red said pointing at me.

 

            “Mister King?” Pete asked, looking plaintive. “Can’t we just do them here? It’s more romantic under the stars.”

 

            “I don’t see why not.” Red shrugged. “Quayle, Johnson, bring the other bitch.”

 

            Quayle grabbed me and dragged me to the car. I tired to resist, but he had a grip like an iron cuff. I was yanked along toward the car as Red slapped my rump. It was so scared, and I felt like it would be better to grab one of their guns and shoot myself.

 

            “God damn.” Red said. “Look at that ass. We could have some fun with that ass before we cook her Quayle.”

 

            “Maybe sir.” Quayle said grabbing my face in his hand before groping me. “She got a good pair of tits too. Nice and juicy.”

 

            “We could run our own little train on her, don’t you think?” Red asked.

 

            “Wouldn’t be nothing wrong with it.” Quayle said.

 

            “Just kill me you fuck.” I said.

 

            “No, no.” Quayle said giving me a good hard slap across the face. “Rape first, burning later.”

 

            They shoved me in the back seat of one of the trucks and Red got in the back with me. He gave my blouse a good hard yank, sending buttons flying around the cab as Quayle started the car.

 

            “Damn fine titties.” He announced groping them.

 

            I did as Jack had told me to do in these situations. One quick jab, right for the middle of the throat. Red grabbed at his throat, wheezing like an asthmatic and I grabbed the door handle and rolled out of the car. I hit the ground rolling, getting up before the truck had completely stopped.  I started to run into the fields, and it was a good while before I heard anything behind me.

 

            Quayle didn’t shout after me, that wasn’t his style. I could tell his style, just find me and cut me up, that’s what he would do. As I ran through the grass of the field I remembered a story I read when I was a freshman in English class. A rich guy had been hunting people on his private island, and the guy he was hunting had made fake trails to throw him off. I didn’t have time to run back though, I had to keep going. I could hear him behind me.

 

            I ran as hard as I could, but it wasn’t enough. Quayle was younger and in better shape than me. I was hit in the back and we tumbled into the grass. He hit me in the face and grabbed both my hands in one of his before hitting me again.

 

            “You stupid bitch!” He shouted at me. “You could have offset him. If you’d fucked him good, he might have let you live. Now he’s going to have no interest in fucking you at all!”

 

            “Fuck you!” I said and tried to bite at his hand. He slapped me so hard that I saw stars for a few seconds while he yanked me to my feet.

 

            “Dumb bitch.” He gave me a clap across the back of the head as he shoved me back down the path we’d made. “What are you thinking?”

           

            “That I don’t want to get raped.” I spun around and hit him in the middle of his chest.

 

            He staggered for a moment, and hit me in the stomach. I felt like I just folded up around his fist and hit the ground. He stood over me and put a foot on my chest, shoving me down. This was bad, I was not having a good time, but at least I was fighting. I wasn’t one of those dumb bitches who just lays there and lets it happen.

 

            “You ain’t thinking.” He said as he yanked me up again. “You got to think. You’re choices are getting burned alive or sucking a little dick.”

 

            “Fuck you.” I kicked at him, giving his shin a knock.

 

            “Damnit.” He hit me again, and all the fight just flew right out of me.

 

            I actually swooned when he hit me that time and he had to carry me over his shoulder the rest of the way to the car because I just couldn’t manage to stand or walk anymore. I couldn’t even fight him anymore, I’d really had the fight just smacked out of me. As I was dangling from his shoulder though, an image came back to me.

 

            Jack had tipped a wink to me, and just me. He knew I was the one that was going to be dragged away. He knew I would be the one that wasn’t there. He knew I was the one that would need reassuring.

            I felt sort of stupid as Quayle threw me on the ground next to the truck. I had judged my Jack wrong, I’d thought he was selfish when clearly he had some kind of plan. Quayle opened the back of the truck and played with some sort of locking mechanism. He picked me up and shoved me into what I knew was a dog cage. My first kinky boyfriend liked me to sleep in one just like this only he never put a pad lock on it so I couldn’t get out. The lock clicked in place, and I curled up like I used to in the cage, but without making eyes at Quayle like I did with Carl.

 

            The car ride was quite after that though. When the car finally stopped the two of them just sat there for a while before one of them spoke. It was Quayle who started the conversation.

 

            “You alright Mister King?”

 

            “I’ll be alright in an hour Mister Quayle.” King said. “When this is all over, and Cindy comes home with me, then I’ll be alright.”

 

            “Will it be all over then?” Quayle asked. “Will we actually get back to business then?”

 

            “It’s not been a good year Quayle.”

 

            “I’m aware of that sir, that’s why I’m asking.”

 

            “Yes.” King told him. “After that, we’ll get back to business.”

 

            “This obsession, it’s not healthy.”

 

            “Don’t you start.”

 

            “Not your granddaughter.” Quayle said. “I don’t care who you decide to breed with. The obsession is unhealthy. People are talking. They’re not happy with the way things are going.”

 

            “They’ll do what they’re told.”

 

            “They might not.” Quayle said. “There’s been a lot of rumbling since this project started. We’ve been doing this almost five years now, people are getting impatient. We’ve also been stalled in three expansions and loosing the church will not be an easy blow to come back from.”

 

            “Father William was an idiot.” Red snapped. “We can get another fake church to filter money through. They’re all run by weak-minded greedy fools. Just get one that doesn’t have someone stronger than use behind them and we build up again.”

 

            “That’s not really the point.” Quayle said.

 

            “Shut up Quayle.” King said. “Get your bottles ready, get her tired to the chair so we can out her on top of the fire.”

 

            “Yes sir.” He said.

 

            I shuddered in the cage, wondering how many minutes of life I had left. I couldn’t help but be afraid. Jack should have come to cave me by now. Nick of time was one thing, but this was getting just a little ridiculous. Where was he? Where was my man? Had they actually killed him? I didn’t want to cry, but it was getting harder to hold out hope.

 

            The back door opened and two men grabbed the kennel to take me to the pyre they’d prepared. Oh Jack, where the fuck are you? Don’t let them burn me…

 

 

 

 

 

September 11, 2011 Posted by | Fiction, Jack | | Leave a comment

At least one more set.

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Aaaand, again with the pictures of places

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September 11, 2011 Posted by | Photo | | Leave a comment