The sad thing happens on Monday morning. But there were lots of sad things that laid the path to it, so perhaps it’s not surprising that initially I’m just a bit numb. All day I’m braced for the waves of despair to crash. I sit at my desk. I work. I write. Edit some audio porn, upload a bit to Patreon, and wait and wait and wait for the misery to hit.

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When I tell my sister this story, she snort-laughs and tells me ‘we really need to do something about the low expectations you have of men.’ I’m front-loading this because I suspect that’s what the man involved might say himself. He used to be quite baffled by how pleased I was when he did little thoughtful things, as if little thoughtful things aren’t worthy of note. As if kindness is incidental, instead of – you know – everything.

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I remember very vividly the first sexy daydream I had about a boy. I felt myself growing hot and tense inside before experiencing a release of arousal as the daydream came to climax. Not a real climax, sadly I’ve never had the ability to make myself come just by thinking about the right thing. But the right thoughts can trigger something intense, and this was the first time I’d experienced that intensity: the instant, shocking realisation that my mind could make my body do this thing, purely through the power of imagination. It was way more graphic than the purely cerebral lust I’d felt for guys in the past. When I talk about this feeling on the blog, I often refer to it as that ‘kick in the gut’ of lust. Or the unngh moment. Some fantasies might press a few buttons in your mind, sparking ideas and feelings that you want to follow up later, but these particular sexy dreams and daydreams are on another level: they kick me in the gut. Give me that unngh.

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OK, I know this is silly. But last night I really wanted to talk to you about the aurora. I wanted to tell you to go outside and look, and ask if you could see it from wherever you were at the time. I wanted to forward the picture that my brother had sent from his garden: pink waves in the sky. Pure beauty. The magic of space. I wanted to talk to you about the aurora.

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I’m a firm believer in the power of writing to help you work through your feelings. I often find myself halfway through a post, suddenly realising that the emotions I have about this or that story have evolved or become clearer as I’m writing: we are our stories, and trying to capture the narratives that run through our lives is such a powerful (and valuable) thing to do. Today’s guest blogger is writing to capture a bundle of complex emotions about FOMO, relationships, and life in his 40s that are tricky to label and digest. Especially because, when you’re polyamorous, many of the scripts we have around different life stages don’t quite seem to fit. Thank you so much Northern Boy, and I hope your thoughts can help other people who might be struggling with similar things…

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