I like having lots of friends with benefits and lovers. So many that I really kinda have to be a comet. I can’t be regular or consistent. It works when it works.

I think bdsm stuff is going to go closer to back to that box. I just don’t have the drive when I’m pregnant. (Although I just had the most intense mental picture of pegging my submissive while pregnant. That was quite a thing to just jump into my head. Well hello there.)

I don’t want to break up with people, not really. But I do want to… loosen the expectations of frequency. Maybe you won’t beat me again for a few years but it’ll happen again.

There is this one friend/occasional play partner. She was the third person I ever played with and the first person I played with in the munch/party crowd I spent years in intensively. We have never played often. But we do sometimes. Not every year. Just when it works. And that’s been happening since I was 18 years old. In August I asked her if we could do a 16th anniversary scene. She said yes. I’m thrilled.

But that kind of occasional is important to me. I like the trailing end of love that comes with it. “Ok I know it’s annoying that I’m not up for play more… but when I am it’s great!”

In some of my interactions the breaks come mostly from me and in others it comes from the other side. I can cope.

My Sarah has a phrase she likes for an important person in her life: “Once and Future Sweetie” and I love it. (I also love the man she attaches it to–he’s good people.) But I feel like that with folks. I don’t actually get done done done with people that much. But I may run out of drive to force a relationship and if you don’t ensure it is ongoing it just won’t exist.

So much of my life is about me pushing relationships on folks. I’m an asker. But it takes a toll. I run out of ask sometimes. I feel too ashamed.

I feel ashamed of wanting so much more than other people. More intensity. More conversation. More sex. I feel like I’m always trying to tone it down so I don’t bother people too much. More time spent. More work done. More more more. More attention. More stimulation.

I really wanted to go to Friday Night Waltz tonight. It sounds fun. But I’m so tired and I need to spend my energy on painting. We have house guests arriving on Sunday. They stay for 19 days. I need to have the work done in the house more than I need bonus exercise at bedtime.

fuuuuuuuuuck remodeling.

I am going to ask them if they want to go to the 4th of July party we would like to go to. I have friends visiting one Wednesday. Hopefully my Bonus Kids will come over, even though it’ll be a zoo. It will be a joyful zoo. And the Bonus Mama would really like my friend. So I’m crossing my fingers.

Beyond that… I have no dates or socializing planned for the 19 days. I need to pay attention to my friend.

It hurts me very much that I have traveled all the way across the country and people who profess to love me a lot paid no attention to me whatsoever. My goal is for my friend and her two sons to leave glowing with love and attention. I need to not spread out what I have to other people. I need to keep it home. They need the infusion pretty badly. I mean, don’t we all. But this mama needs to feel love a little more than average. I want to fill her bucket.

And they are used to a very quiet retreating life with very little socializing. They don’t travel like this. This is all my initiation. Ha. Come visit me. I miss you. I want to pay attention to you.

But everyone else can wait. I’m not going to do what that dude in NYC did to me. I flew across the country to see him and he had a first date with someone else while I sat in the room and waited for him to be done beating and fucking her.

I sure know how to follow around folks who aren’t that into me. I’m over it. I’d like to be worthy of better fucking treatment.

Noah acts like I am.

Or my other friend in New York who declined to put pants on and walk three blocks to see us because that was too much trouble. You know what? I find visiting people in New York to be horrifyingly awful and I’ll never do it again. I find that visiting people in New York means I go from liking someone a lot to not liking them as much because they treat me like shit.

I’m not bringing New York habits home. Fuck. That. Shit.

I’m not sure why I’m feeling pissy about that just now.

I’m thinking about how I want to be treated. I both want someone who is comfortable saying “I would like to see you, scheduling?” and comfortable hearing “Good god not this week/month.” Which is hard.

I want someone who wants to kiss me so badly that they don’t walk past opportunities but they have excellent boundaries about keeping their hands and lips to themselves when my kids are around. Well, even keeping hands to oneself isn’t really the same. I hold hands with my friends in front of my kids. Always have. I hug my friends in front of my kids and I don’t want that to change. My kids see me climb into fully dressed piles of adults and snuggle lots of people.

I’m comfortable with that.

Because in their head there is a difference between sex (what they know I do with their dad) and snuggling/dating.

They don’t understand what the difference is yet, but they have a fuzzy perception.

I like that my kids are comfortable with physical boundaries with people. They are comfortable asking for and giving hugs when they want to and when they aren’t in the mood they are clear about that. They have no baggage around owing anyone anything. When someone tries to wheedle affection all of us are harsh. “What part of setting a boundary is hard for you to hear?”

I feel good about how this part is going.

Do you know what I did for the first six months of having a baby? I sit in a chair and nurse and play with my computer. Because I didn’t have anyone but Noah to talk to and he’s busy a lot.

It was ok once. It was hard a second time. I can’t do it a third time. I can’t. I have to be too emotionally consistent with the big kids this time. I can’t be as variable. The pressure continues to mount. Shit.

Oxytocin. That has to be the way.

Maybe when the baby comes Noah can work a little bit more on the weekend so that his ignoring-Krissy-time overlaps better with when other people are available. I don’t know. Maybe?

I bet you that if it were on a Saturday I could talk my submissive into picking up a weekly shift where he comes over and talks to me and reads with the big kids and maybe rubs whatever part of me is most achey that day. I betcha. But it would have to work around his schedule which is more demanding than Noah’s is these days.

I’d be happy to wear out the hands of as many people as I can during pregnancy and the year after. I hurt. Noah has limits. He does a lot. I’d be up for as many volunteers as I can get.

I’m an opportunist.

Do you know what I feel intensely secure about? If I can figure out how to do it so I feel ok my submissive will adapt to any and all boundaries I set even as they move up and back and sideways and forwards. He’s already been through this roller coaster once with him and I didn’t even let him in as much as I will this time. No, I won’t be the sadist of his dreams for a while. But that’ll come back too.

I don’t think I’m over wanting to carve him up. I’m not over wanting to kiss him or fuck him. I’m just… scattered and tired.

I know I’m not over wanting to kick him in the nuts. That is one of the most satisfying, awesome feelings IN THE ENTIRE FUCKING WORLD. It is just a sometimes treat.

Right now the idea of doing a kicking scene makes me need a nap. I’m so tired.

Am I a user? Do I give back to the people I take from? I don’t know. I really don’t.

All I know is I have acupuncture in 3 hours and a phone call with a couples therapist in 6 hours. See, we are all proactive and shit. There’s stuff we need some help to figure out how to discuss. What do you do when you need help? You go find some fucking help.

This isn’t our first rodeo and it won’t be our last.

We’ll make sure of that.

I have so much to do.