Con on the Cob is this weekend. Tomorrow, actually. I attended the previous three years straight and each and every time I learned something important about myself.
'07. I am an artist. Lapsed maybe, but I am. Also, I like to fuck at cons. Correction, I like to be close to other people at cons. It's exciting. The first trickles of what would become the poly adjustment in my marriage began here.
Also, I'm hot.
'08. Full-blown poly and I fucking hate it. I took three different men to bed (or the car) and all I really wanted was Martin to love me.
'09. Full-blown poly and I fucking hate it, and my life. Nervous breakdown results in comfort after, but not during, sex with a friend. All I really want is for Martin to love me. This begins the active mental adjustments that result in my leaving my marriage.
So here we are, on the other side of the country, and Con on the Cob will happen to someone else. I've learned what I needed; I'm happily monogamous with Martin and I love him dearly, I'm hot, and I'm an artist, no longer lapsed.
Thank you CotC.
