Polyamory Day 2.444K
Sex will never be the same with him. For him, sex is emotional expression. Physical touch isn't just his love language, it's his emotional landscape, mapped out by his own creative madness. So much is communicated through the different ways he kisses me. He infuses his emotions into every breath, every touch, the pacing, the pressure he applies, and even the many ways he looks at me. It's a silent conversation that unfolds so quickly. One blink, and I might miss it all. A second lost to pleasure is a minute of words gone.
I don't understand him. I know it's a language, but it's one I don't speak and can't make sense of yet. Maybe I'm reading too much into this. Maybe this is happening because he has a high sex drive, or maybe I'm the one who's obsessed with him and am making this up. Maybe these are all assumptions and interpretations. Without communication, they're all I have. Maybe it's good enough to process my own complex emotions that he incites.
No one has made me feel this deeply since Roberto. No matter how hard I try, I can't understand how I missed it—how I failed Roberto. This time, I'll have to learn.
Is this the answer? Had I been so absorbed in my own bodily pleasure that I missed Roberto's emotions, just as I had with Mr. Silence? Toward the end, Roberto made love to me more often. I thought it was a sign that our relationship was growing. Was I wrong? Had he been using sex to communicate with me, and I failed to see the signs?
Whatever the case, I'll see clearer this time. Our relationship has taken on new dimensions that I can't wait to explore. Sex with him has always been pleasurable, but now that I see it as his language, the mystery makes it even more enticing. My mind craves more of him the way my body feels a devouring need for him.
He loves my idea about the furniture... maybe a little too much? After the ivory sofa was delivered, I laid naked on it to greet him when he got home. When he came inside me, I watched as his juices leaked out of me and onto the cream leather. I told him it's now marked by us. He laughed and then moved his hips slowly, drawing out even more.
When the kitchen table was delivered as I was heading out to meet up with Lizz for our research project, he made me skip the afternoon meeting so we could "inaugurate" the table into our house. I'm starting to think he's having too much fun with this idea.
The other day, the dining chairs arrived. I was confused, since I bought the round table and four chairs as a set, yet they delivered them separately, and only two chairs showed up. He made me sit in one of the new chairs and buried his head between my legs for the next forty-five minutes. When I asked him about the chairs between moans, he simply said, "There will always be just the two of us." I'm not sure if that was a hint that we shouldn't have guests.
He can be so cutely childish. The other night, he refused to shower or get out of bed, even though we were drenched in all kinds of fluids. He told me if I wanted him to wash, I'd have to do it myself. So we soaked in the tub while I washed him. Then the next morning, after our usual morning sex, he came back from the shower holding the loofah, motioning with his eyes. I laughed, got up, and scrubbed him down in the shower.
I don't think he's ever been in a kitchen his entire life. The other night, I complained that I was hungry, and he said he could make me a sandwich. So I waited in bed for ten minutes before deciding to check on him when he didn't return.
The lettuce head was sitting on the dining table, the turkey on the kitchen counter, and a ripe red tomato on a plate next to the refrigerator, with water droplets forming in one corner. He walked back into the kitchen, his eyes glued to his phone. When I glanced down at it, he was Googling how to make a sandwich.
Holding back my laughter, I wanted to see how badly he was struggling, so I let him continue. He asked me where the knife was, and I handed him one. He turned the tomato one way and then the other, unsure of how to cut it. I stared at the cutting board just inches away from him. He puts the tomato in his hand and cuts it in half, then picked up the lettuce head aspeaking mode and gives it instructions.
"Pi, go over entries related to me and Mr. Silence and, using your psychology knowledge, give me the probabilities of each of our future outcomes."
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Probability of you and Mr. Silence staying together forever: 1.05%Probability of Mr. Silence breaking your heart and leaving: 24%Probability of you breaking his heart and leaving: 11.26%Probability of you both breaking up and never speaking to each other again: 6.32%
I stare at the screen in shock. Maybe it's not calibrated right. 24% can't be right.
"Pi, show me the variables you used and the calculations for the probability of him breaking my heart and leaving."
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· Emotional Compatibility (E): This represents how emotionally aligned Ace and Mr. Silence are in terms of needs, expectations, and communication. High compatibility increases the probability of a lasting relationship.· Commitment Level (C): The willingness of both individuals to commit to the relationship, despite challenges. Ace's polyamorous nature might influence this, as might Mr. Silence's monogamy.· Communication Skills (S): Their ability to effectively communicate their needs and resolve conflicts. This is crucial, especially given their different relationship expectations.· External Stressors (X): Factors such as work, personal insecurities, or external influences that could strain the relationship.· Personal Growth (G): The ability of each person to grow and adapt to each other's needs over time.· Poly-Mono Conflict (P): The specific conflict arising from Ace being polyamorous and Mr. Silence being monogamous. This is a significant variable that could sway the outcome in various directions.
P(he leaves) = (1 - C) * P * (1 - S) = (1 - 0.5) * 0.8 * (1 - 0.4) = 0.5 * 0.8 * 0.6 = 0.24 or 24%"Have you... taken attachment style into account?"
"No. Here's the probability with attachment styles accounted for: Ace's attachment style: Anxious-preoccupied Mr. Silence's attachment style: Avoidant-dismissive Probability of you and Mr. Silence staying together forever: 0.21% Probability of Mr. Silence breaking your heart and leaving: 5.76% Probability of you breaking his heart and leaving: 2.88% Probability of you both breaking up and never speaking to each other again: 15.12%""I'm not the anxious attachment style type!"
"Based on your diary entries, you are anxiously attached to him."
"Change that to secure attachment and recalculate." Probability of you and Mr. Silence staying together forever: 8.82%Probability of Mr. Silence breaking your heart and leaving: 2.30%Probability of you breaking his heart and leaving: 2.88%Probability of you both breaking up and never speaking to each other again: 1.21%"What factors do you consider the most extreme that could change the probabilities the most based on your profile of these two individuals?""The factors that affect the outcome the most, based on yours and his profiles, are attachment styles and the polyamorous vs. monogamous tendencies.""Increase the poly-mono conflict to what you think is the extreme and decrease attachment to the extreme, then recalculate."Probability of you and Mr. Silence staying together forever: 0.88%Probability of Mr. Silence breaking your heart and leaving: 80.64%Probability of you breaking his heart and leaving: 10.08%Probability of you both breaking up and never speaking to each other again: 20.02%
After asking Pi to recalculate by changing various variables and parameters 643 times, the results consistently show that he either breaks my heart and leaves or we end up breaking up and never speaking to each other again.
I created Pi to be my version of Roberto. Its job is to protect the people involved in my PI cases, especially when I've been too logical and forget to account for the human emotional aspects. Pi's role is to ensure I don't miss key clues. And here I am, using it to estimate the probability of my relationship outcome while refusing to accept the results as anything but mathematically logical.
After hours spent arguing with the AI, I decide to go see my parents in the hope that it will cheer me up.
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The nutty scent of steamed white rice mixes with the tangy, spicy aroma of kimchi, while the sweet, caramelized, umami-laden pork wafts up to my nose. "When can we come over to see the place?" my mother asks in Chinese between bites."I have several roommates. I've only rented a room in the house." I say, fumbling a quail egg with my chopsticks before it slips back into the stew."Are they all girls?" my dad asks in Korean."She said they are a minute ago. They go to her school. Pal... Ka... KK... Kal—" my mom struggles in broken Korean."Cal Tech," I correct, still fishing for the elusive quail egg in the stew."You should come home when you're not in school," my dad orders, scooping up two quail eggs with his spoon and placing them on my rice bowl. I instinctively turn to say thank you, but then such words aren't common in our traditional Asian household. Instead, I bite into the prized quail egg, savoring its richness. . "I do. I've been home the last few days, haven't I?" Mr. Silence is away on his business trip. I also didn't mention that it's summer, and I only have research and projects, not classes.