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It is at work everywhere, functioning smoothly at times, at other times in fits and starts. It breathes, it heats, it eats. It shits and fucks. What a mistake to have ever said the id. - Deleuze and Guattari, Anti-Oedipus

This semester I will take a seminar on Gilles Deleuze it is being taught by two of my favorite professors, Thomas and Jack. These are also professors that I have no small level of longing for. Afterall, how could I resist them, I am young and impressionable, eager to please and desiring to be intellectually sexy to my idols. They are freshly minted PhDs with good looks, charisma, and a laid-back approach to instruction. They intentionally blur the line between teacher and student. They cultivate casual relationships with students, curse in class, and teach incredibly sexy theory. In the bar a few nights ago, I ran into Thomas and my friends and I sat down with him for a drink.

One drink became several, the conversation got intense and personal, and everyone I had come there with trickled away to go home. Thomas and I were alone at the bar now and continued to talk. Then Thomas made a remark that changed everything.

I wish I remember the exact thing that I said directly beforehand but I can’t. It was hopefully insightful and sexy. Perhaps it was relatively mundane but regardless it elicited a significant response.

Thomas shrugged his shoulders forward, resting his head in his hands with his elbows on the bar and said, “I have to keep reminding myself that you are my student.”

I look away, facing forward, bars are good for diverting a gaze in that way. “So that’s where we are,” I reply.

We said some more things in the following minutes, they were pithy and flirtatious and in the spirit of negotiation. I knew I wanted him but I also knew it would put both of us in a peculiar position starting on Monday.

In a moment of courage and brilliance, I look up from my drink, gesture to the bartender and say, “Hey Paul, can I borrow a pen?”

Paul used to fuck a roommate of mine, they aren’t dating anymore and she doesn’t live with me but I still feel guilty when I see him since I was the one that convinced her to break up with him. Paul delivers the pen and I murmur my thanks.

I take two cocktail napkins from the stack in front of us and put one in front of Thomas and one in front of myself. I write down the URL for this website, fold the napkin in half and pass it to him along with the pen, “Your turn.”

He writes something and passes it back to me.

I look in his eyes and desperately want him to kiss me but I gather the resolve to say, “That is all I can give you tonight.”

But by way of consolation (and perhaps to convince myself as well) I continue, “The best stories like this climax at the moment of desire being expressed, I always end up writing them that way.”

He nods, seemingly unconvinced.

I know that there are other possible endings to this story: outright rejection, a torrid affair, kinky sex that is never repeated, a teary regretful morning after, he has done this with half a dozen students before, I am not special, someone falls in love, everything is peachy, or many hot encounters. They flare out before my mind as possibilities that are entwined and intersecting, weaving their way through the landscape of my sexual consciousness. I feel a surge of warmth like the first sip of a coctail but I know I’m on my fifth.

I know that I’ll see him on Monday, that this is far from over, that my resolve might not be sustained through another night of coctails. But for that evening, the story is over and I stand up and say, “Goodnight.”

I’m sure you’ve all been waiting eagerly to find out about my coffee date with The Prof. Well, I was waiting eagerly at least.

Let me set the scene. We met at a nearby coffeeshop that I frequent regularly. Occupants included a former DJ at the radio station and a current grad student in English. I quickly ignored my concerns - it is just coffee, right?

The first hour or so we talked about mutual interests (literature, music, teaching). I found him funny, engaging and attractive. Then the conversation turned to me and I feared that I would shock him with my sexual lifestyle and proclivities as I described this blog, my podcast, phone sex work, my relationship, and my preferences. I talked a lot, perhaps too much.

Finally, the conversation turned to the situation at hand. And the ethics and emotions surrounding it. I was somewhat amazed by his level of consideration and thought in the decision he was making. No apologies or excuses. Perhaps I’ll write an entry soon on the ethics of adultery because it is something I have been thinking about a lot. I left the coffeeshop knowing that the Professor was about to embark on a very personal and life-affirming journey. Like many risks, it is not one without selfishness. But, I was convinced of the purity of his motivations and the desire that lay behind them.

When I got home, J and I had a long conversation about my coffee date and continued to hash out and digest what I had witnessed and learned. I realized that the reason I date other people is just what the Professor described: excitement, trepidation, flirting, desire. I went to bed with a hopeful heart (not to mention some very dirty thoughts) after sending him an email letting him know I’d love to see him again.

This afternoon (when I was nearly done writing this entry) I received a reply. The Professor thanked me for my time and conversation, he shared that he had a lot of thinking to do. He also wrote that he suspected I was ambivilent and didn’t think we should see each other again.

I wish I could say I was shocked, but I’m not. I guess the awkward moments that I found to be pregnant with sexual tension were just awkward, afterall. Sometimes you jump in with two feet and get what you want, but sometimes those moments of hesitation and second-guessing can shipwreck our intentions. I’m not the type of woman who looks a man in the eyes and says, “I think I’d like to make love to you.” I also don’t think that this experience will make me become one. However, I suppose I’ve learned my lesson that candor and resolve can make all the difference. That lack seems to be the crux of my present disappointment.

Up until now the only people that have taken pictures of me naked are myself and people I am having sex with. Recently, I was approached by an amateur erotic photographer who is interested in photographing me. The idea makes me both excited and nervous - I knew I had to find out more.

On Saturday, J and I met up with her for coffee. We hit it off so well that coffee became dinner and her husband joined us. We’ve been invited to their home for dinner next week.

Have I mentioned that they are gorgeous and funny and incredibly intelligent people? So, letting her take naked pictures of me is a no-brainer. Still, it seems weird to have someone I’m not sleeping with see me naked. I guess I’ll have to get her to sleep with me. . .

“You’re only about 40 percent like yourself in your blog.”

J observed this from across the table at my favorite pizza place. We were quietly scarfing antipasto salad, betraying the fact that we have learned to eat in silence in front of each other.

“What is the other 60 percent like?”

“Someone else.”

Both C and J know about this blog, C is indifferent and mildly hostile towards it - for that reason he chooses not to read. J has known about it since before our first date although as far as he tells me, he still hasn’t read the entire thing.

He drove home a point that I have known for a long time. This is all just a blurry snapshot of who I am. If you think you have Ellie in focus, think again. If you think you have J or C in focus, well that is just absurd. Certain days when I am having sex, I lose track of who I am but I think that is the best gift a lover can give me. The drive to destabilize myself before helping to put me back together again.

Two nights ago I found myself blindfolded on my bed, my thighs spread and wrists tied to each leg. Rope forming lattices and criss-crosses around my torso and breasts. From the foot of the bed I hear J’s voice above me.

“God, you look so beautiful.”

It has always been a hard thing to believe. C can say it and have me stomach the compliment 100 percent of the time. I’ve long since given up questioning his sincerity. J can convince me about 50 percent of the time. Nothing changes in him or the way he says it from moment to moment - it will come as I get to know him better and trust myself to be beautiful to him.

J is running something against my thighs. An ice cube? No, it isn’t wet. He brushes it against my exposed pussy for a brief moment and then I feel him shift over me and sense him near my face.

“Open,” he commands.

I open my lips hesitantly.

“Wider.”

I drop my jaw further, lips sliding over teeth, tongue presented delicately against the bottom of my mouth.

“Bite.”

I bite into. . . a sweet, ripe pear. I chew the tiny bite slowly and he leans towards me to kiss the juices from my lips.

I feel beautiful again without him saying anything at all.

It is with this fanfare and caveat that I announce the arrival of J’s blog, Eternal Apprentice. When he told me he was going to do it, I was intrigued. When he actually started posting, I was thrilled. Looking at our experiences from his perspective was enlightening. I’d say that he is about 40 percent like himself as well. I hope you will head over to his little corner of the sexblog land and let him know what you think. His blogroll is woefully deficient and while I could have recommended many great places to start, J is capable of making his own friends. He is dear to me and I hope he becomes dear to all of you as well.

The last few days weren’t exactly easy. C has been very sick and was out of communication with me. I assumed the worst. I was wrong.

We had a very fruitful conversation last night and I feel a lot better about all of this. It is hard to look at him delaying moving in with me as anything other than a setback but, I’m starting to see how it makes sense. He isn’t mad at me at all, in fact if he is feeling better, I am going to see him this weekend. His goal right now is to give me some emotional distance to explore my feelings for other people. In particular, he likes that J is around to help me through this experience.

For a few days, I wasn’t very capable of being physical with J. He is very sweet and didn’t pressure me at all but it felt strange since our relationship had been so intense up until that point. Last night I was finally able to get back to things sexually and it felt wonderful.

Knowing that C means it when he says he isn’t mad at me, that I will still have him in my life during this exploration and that we both have some thinking to do gives me immense confidence. Meanwhile, I’m so lucky to have a man as caring and understanding as J to be with me right now. He just smiled at me as I am writing this and it warms my heart. He and I both have a lot of sexual exploration to do and I’m glad we will get to do it together.

Do I think this will all be easy? No way. I might be crying again tomorrow. But for this moment I feel good - I have the love of two wonderful men. J is patient enough to be with me at this time and C is patient enough to step back and wait until I know what I need. We’re all very lucky to have each other.

I promise my next post will be a filthy, graphic description of kinky sex and no more of this Hallmark card stuff.

Can this work out? Is it too good to be true? Do I deserve the affection of two wonderful men at the same time? For now these questions batter my psyche almost constantly but I just keep talking to C and J about how I feel. In turn they keep shocking me with their kindness, empathy, and love. Could I be the luckiest girl in the world? I’m not sure but I defy you to present me with someone happier.

Could something I wrote less than 18 hours ago possibly look more ironic/prophetic/depressing than these words? Warning to readers - this blog is about to take a pretty emo turn for the worse.

On Friday night J told me that he loves me. This made me very happy but it also worried me so I knew I needed to tell C about it. He told me that he couldn’t handle that and I should stop seeing J.

That should be the end of the story, right? My dear sweet boyfriend has been very understanding so far and if he doesn’t want to share my heart with another man, he should be able to say so, right? I would be a monster to give up what we have when I’m so close to everything that I want.

I wish it were that simple. The thought of hurting J tore my heart in half. I begged C to think of a way that we could make it all work. More than that, I told him I was terrified that this would all happen again. Maybe there is something about me that lets me love more than one person and it is what I need in my life.

C was supposed to move in with me this month - that has been put on hold. He suggested we take a “break” so that I can be with J and find myself. His understanding was almost too much for me. I wanted him to cry and beg and scream and demand my respect and attention. He was just so. . . resigned to it.

We aren’t out of communication, he still loves me and we are still best friends, this isn’t a breakup. It still feels like my world is shattering, though. We both have a lot to figure out - maybe I’ll realize that I love only him and that is more than enough for me. Maybe he’ll realize that he can share my heart as well as my body with another man as long as what we have is strong.

Maybe I am a hideous monster for so badly mistreating two people that I care about. To answer my questions above (and below).

I’m not sure yet.

It certainly was.

I really don’t.

Maybe I still am.

I thought that finally fucking someone else would make this blog way more interesting. It probably would if I could be assed to write about it. Computing hasn’t been a high priority lately and the semester at school started so I’m a few weeks behind on email and blog comments. The bits of podcast I have recorded are going obsolete so I have to scrap my draft for Bedroom Radio #10 and come up with something else. Enough whining, whats been going on? Well. . .

The past week and a half has been really exciting and fascinating. Laying my head in J’s lap with my cell on speakerphone while we both talk to C (and they make fun of me together) was probably the surreal highlight of the week. J and I have been spending a lot of time together getting to know eachother and I’ll be the first to admit that a bulk of that time has been spent in bed.

I get the distict feeling that he is totally in awe of me, which is a remarkable place to be in a relationship. The sex has been entirely fantastic and such a whirlwind that I’m hard-pressed to focus on one particular incident. Although, if I had to pick, being tied up with thirty feet of black rope probably tops the list - I suspect he would concur.

One of the best things about J is that he, like me, seems content to dissect and talk about sex ad infinitum. We’ve spent many a happy hour with our limbs tangled up, my head on his chest, doing the instant replay of what just went down between us. Sure, we were both there but I like saying things like, “You had the sexiest look on your face when you were biting my nipple.” I also like hearing things like, “You made a great noise when I brushed my finger over your clit.” We usually keep up this dialogue about the sex that just transpired until we both get turned on again.

Can this work out? Is it too good to be true? Do I deserve the affection of two wonderful men at the same time? For now these questions batter my psyche almost constantly but I just keep talking to C and J about how I feel. In turn they keep shocking me with their kindness, empathy, and love. Could I be the luckiest girl in the world? I’m not sure but I defy you to present me with someone happier.

As you know I’ve taken a few days to figure out what to write here. Before I write it, I need to establish a few facts that some readers might know and some might not.

1. I was a virgin when I met C and had basically never been touched by a man before. Kisses during spin the bottle in middle school were more or less the extent of it.

2. Because of this, I have changed a lot sexually in the time that I’ve been with C (3 and a half years now).

3. He and I have decided that our relationship doesn’t need to be monogamous to be lasting as long as we communicate. At this point it doesn’t seem like he is that interested in other partners (my libido is *way* stronger than his).

Okay, with that exposition out of the way, I can tell my news.

I met an amazing man and between Monday and Wednesday we spent an awful lot of time together and it was completely delicious. I’m having a lot of trouble deciding which facts to tell you about J and what details to relay because so much seems significant. So, I’ll start at the beginning of our first date and go from there.

J and I had planned to meet up at a dessert place as we had both already eaten dinner at home. To be quite honest, the first bit of time together felt awkward. But it felt awkward in a very good way. The nervous tension didn’t seem to come from having nothing to say to eachother but rather way too much and struggling with which words should make it out of our mouths. So, I did what I usually do in a situation like that. I put my mouth on auto-pilot in order to thrust the conversation forward. Of course my voicec gets high and nervous and I speak too quickly but given a mundane subject (”all about my cats”, “specific details of a meal I ate in Turkey”, “why people in my library science classes are idiots”, etc.) I can craft a nearly endless stream of speech to fill any conversational lull. Doesn’t it sound charming?

Amazingly, J thought it was charming and mistook my anxious verbal diarhea for intelligence. When the restaurant closed up, we didn’t want to part for the night and moved onto a bar and then another bar which we managed to close out. I want to make it clear at this point that alcohol had no impact on our evening. I had one drink in 2 hours at the first bar and sipped a drink at the second but forgot about it and left it more or less full. I was just too engaged in the conversation to pay attention to my cocktail.

After closing time at the bar, the night should have been over. Isn’t 6 hours plenty of time for a first date? No, it isn’t. We walked around the area for a moment, sitting down by a fountain and talking about where we could go next. Despite being January, it was incredibly warm outside, probably in the low fifties. So, I grabbed his hand and declared that I would take him on a walking tour of campus. J is relatively new to the area and hadn’t seen the campus before - I’ve been a student here for over 5 years and know the stories about all of the pretty 200-year-old buildings. We walked around holding hands forestalling the inevitable. I felt like there was electricity running through my body and my voice was audibly catching as I ran through the campus facts that I could conjure.

As we stood on the steps of built-in-the 1960s totalitarian monstrosity of a classroom building, I gestured to the dorm I lived in my freshman year. He was holding my hand and standing very near to me and I don’t know if he was looking at me or the building as I pointed out the illuminated roof and the revolving restaurant on top. My words ran out of steam as he began tracing his fingertips across the palm of my hand. I could feel my heart beating in my chest and was sure that it was so loud he could hear it as well. Just when the moment became too nervously delicious and unbearable to go on, he pulled me to him and kissed me.

I’d like to say there were immediate sparks and it was perfect and wonderful but I’m not quite there yet. As much as I had been waiting for that kiss, it sent my brain into a spin. My mind was going crazy for the first two minutes as I processed my reality, “Oh god,” I thought, “I’m kissing someone and it isn’t C. This isn’t how things are supposed to go! Shit, it feels sort of numb like kissing does in dreams. Why isn’t my body reacting to this? What is wrong? Maybe there isn’t chemistry between us after all! J’s lips feel different. Should I stop kissing him?”

It is no wonder that I couldn’t enjoy the kiss at first with all of these thoughts swirling through my head. And then the tension cracked. I don’t know what happened to cause it. Perhaps J pulled me closer or caressed my hair. He did something that pulled me out of my solipsistic internal monologue and reminded me to my body again. And here my body was, standing in the moonlight in the arms of an incredibly sexy and charming man and his mouth was on my mouth and it felt wonderful. I told my thoughts to shut up, I moaned into his lips and I melted.