Not every battlefield can be found on a map.

Early Wednesday morning, it happened — the inevitability of poly-guilt. I tried to ignore it and sleep, but there’s no denying that it was there. 

Later that morning I took it apart with Shadow, good and proper.

There’s a few things to pull apart; things that have interwoven themselves into a great big clump of ugly feelings. Namely that I was completely blindsided to Master Levi’s feelings in the past, so then, how do I know he’s happy now? He says he is, but how do I know?

Then there’s the other fear: how do I know there’s nobody else that I don’t know about? I trusted before — trusted that the next was better than the last — and he, too, was careless with my heart. 

I know trust takes time, but time isn’t always something my heart wants to give. It doesn’t want to wait; it wants answers and it wants them now. 

Somewhere in my head, I’m sat on the deck of an aircraft carrier on a calm sea at sunset — at war, perhaps, if only inside my mind. I know that, in militaries — both real and metaphorical — it’s not always about guns, bombs and explosions: sometimes it’s about these little moments. It’s not about deployment; it’s about development. 

Valkyries meets me where I’m at; he notices that the “Elena bounce” is missing. We had a very candid conversation about it all and I made clear to him that this isn’t about me pushing him away; this is about me and my feelings. 

He’s agreed to give me some time to sort my head out.

Slowly continues to go well, and I am getting back to people after a few days away from it (and typically almost no sooner than I’d returned to the platform). I am being quite select in who I reply to, and I do have one rule for myself this time: no matter how lovely someone might seem, if they don’t mention my work/lifestyle (which is mentioned in both my open letter and my profile), I can’t be friends with them. It’s not to judge other people; it’s to protect me and my time.

I have invited my British pen pal, “L”, to read me here too, who writes to me most days (and who panics when I go quiet 😋). I have warned him that my diaries can be a little “spicy” sometimes, though if his pre-coffee storywriting sample was anything to go by then I don’t think my “spice” will be a problem!

Wednesday night, Master Levi pulls me aside for a talk. He, too, has noticed that I’m “off”.

“What’s going on?” he asks. No mercy. No wriggle room. Straight in. 

“I felt guilty about the whole poly thing this morning,” I admit. “Worried you’re not happy. Worried I’m pushing you away. Yada yada.”

I’ll spare you the transcript, but the long and short of it is this: Master is fine with my poly, but somewhat envious of it himself — seeing me so happy makes him wish he had someone who made him happy, too. It stings a bit at first, but then I realise: his happiness often happens at work, when he’s with his colleagues that he loves. My happiness happens in the evenings, when I’m relaxing with Master Levi and Mister Valkyries. 

Master feels his happiness, he doesn’t see it. I’d been feeling guilty for what he sees, not for what he feels. 

What the solution is, I’m not quite sure: Master is abundantly clear though that he’d be worried about involving another woman “after last time” — after I respected my metamour’s boundaries, but mine were treated as inconvenient for her. He also knows we’d have to be a three.

“You know I like to share” I say with a wink. 

We discussed Valkyries’ “raspberry ripple” idea too — a threesome with the three of us — though Master isn’t yet sold on the idea. I understand it completely — it wasn’t an idea I’d jumped at, either. 

“Maybe in the future, not now” he says. 

“I’ll let him know to get the next train back to Glasgow then” I tease. 

Master has been invited to a social in two weeks time too, that he reminds me of. That I already know about. 

“You’ve been invited too, by the way” he says. I freeze, wide-eyed. 

It’s not that I’m against people — obviously — but this is the first time that people have already known what I do for work. No “hi, I’m Elena” to ease them into the conversation. Straight in at the deep end.

Okay, admittedly, I also don’t like parties, generally. House parties especially, particularly when we’ve never met before. Especially ones with food: I’m almost certain to end up wearing it instead. I much prefer somewhere with something to drink; I’m quite adept at not drowning myself in public.

“Is Riley going?” I ask, trying to distract myself from my own thoughts. Master smiles. 

“I can’t prevent her from going, it’s not my party” he says. 

“You’re taking a big gamble. You know this kitty’s got a long memory and sharp claws” I reply. 

Not too soon after I sat down to work on Thursday, Mr C knocked on the front door — he wants my help in the garden. He also has two of his “minions” (young boys)  out there, waiting for his return. 

There’s some dialogue between us, but he decided to inform me again that “Freya” is supposedly asleep in his bed, and she sleeps naked. He also made a show of getting his older “minion” to agree that he has absolute authority over his home.

However, I spotted a succinct difference in his statements. 

To me, he tells me that they know not to go in his bedroom. To the older “minion”, he asks that they affirm they simply don’t do something he asks them not to do in his home. That’s not room-specific; though, that’s very… general. After all, I’d expect people to obey my house rules, too. 

Mr C makes a point of ordering one of the lads to remove the fence repair spike that I’d installed. Sensing that he was enjoying this little power flex, I decided to tame his feathers somewhat. 

As he directed the young lad to both the tool and the technique, I made a point of it that he’d been unable to install it properly in the first place. Mr C grins shyly, turns beetroot. 

“Haven’t you got work to do?” he asks me, unsure how else to respond. I grin. 

“And I’m going,” I reply, “but it wouldn’t be like me if I didn’t torment you first.”

I did end my penpal friendship with my German kinky science penpal “US” on Thursday, though “L” did also express his appreciation for the link to my blog. Suffice to say, there’s a world of difference between someone appreciating you for who you are, and someone imagining you as someone you’re not. 

Things did get a little weird between Valkyries and I yesterday, after he perceived that I was teasing him but keeping the brakes on our “friendship”. That wasn’t my intention and I was trying to engage him in “us”, albeit without going full throttle too soon. I think he misunderstood my intentions. I think we’re both a little on edge right now. 

Admittedly there was a moment the other day — before my poly-guilt — that I told Valkyries that I was “surrendered” to him. I certainly meant it in the heat of the moment, but I think for Valkyries, it was perhaps something a little more… absolute. 

I admire the ambition, I really do, but this old tiger’s got far too much spirit in her for that.

Besides, I’m not even sure Valkyries would want my complete surrender. That’s just the thing with those hunter types, isn’t it? What are they going to hunt once they’ve captured their prey? 

No, no… I can’t have them getting all bored and comfortable 😉 

There was never any silence between us though, no arguing or passive-aggression. We still played, softer, quieter, and definitely more awkward, but we still played. A tango in a minefield, if you will. 

Something that has come to my attention is that some of my audience are… Rather enthusiastic in your appreciation of my diary entries. Honestly, I’m not offended — if anything, I’m oddly humbled that my words can have such a profound effect on you, especially without my ever meaning to! I share my life to give credibility to what I teach — to show that I’m not just waffling on, I really live this way. But if my readers enjoy my stories so much that you feel the need to take matters into your own hands, so to speak? Well then you do you, perhaps quite literally 😉