Another One Bites The Dust

So, we told another friend about our secret life as V+R. A friend we don't see terribly often, but have known for quite a while. A friend who is chronically difficult to impress. A friend we expected to roll his eyes and say, "ugh, of course you do." He's a curmudgeon, which is why we like him.

The response we actually got really threw us for a loop, "Holy shit. No wonder you guys are so happy together." After we'd recovered from our hearts growing a size, it really made us think.

A dramatic representation of my heart growing a size. It busted that flimsy shirt right open!

Three years in, it's crazy how much we're still learning from this experience.

Our friend's unintentional shock and awe campaign of flattery is still kind of sinking in. Firstly, the capacity for this person to be overwhelmingly positive has been, for the decade plus that we've known him, fairly limited. Second, an outsider spontaneously noting that it's easy to tell that Rye and are "so happy" together was like getting kissed on the cheek by a unicorn. I know it. He knows it. But having that fact reaffirmed by someone else never gets old. And finally, he finally set in stone for me the idea that sharing the most intimate details of your lives as two people in love, banging each other endlessly and letting the internet in on the whole thing could actually actively make people happier together.

It kind of took my breath away. The raw, unfiltered truth of it. Not only has this been a lot of fun, not only have we learned a lot about each other and a lot about other people, but it's actually made us better together.

So, I guess, what I'm breathlessly grasping at here is, "thanks." Thanks for reading, thanks for watching, thanks for commenting, thanks for asking us questions. Thanks for caring and sharing (I swear to God I am not going to break into song), thanks for asking us for advice and giving some to us along the way.

The real truth is that the most concretely describable way that Uncommon Appetites has made Rye and I better together, is that it's made us more comfortable being completely ourselves. And you guys have had a lot to do with that. By being excited and encouraging and shouting, "OH MY GOD, ME TOO," from your respective corners of the internet. We feel more comfortable with our bodies, our sexual desires, our personal kinks and asking for exactly what we want than we ever have in our lives. It's an amazing feeling and we hope you guys are feeling it too.

It's in this spirit that I want to share a brief anecdote about a really fucking ridiculous thing that happened yesterday.

This weekend, due to forces beyond our control, will be spent entirely with out of town family. It's always a pleasure to see them all, but you know how much we value naked weekend mornings and languidly banging all over the apartment in the afternoons. Yesterday morning, hung over from an evening of absolutely decadent revelry with friends (by absolutely decadent I mean all the PBR in Brooklyn, basically), we had to throw our "appropriate for public consumption" personas on pretty quickly. It was a race against the clock. We needed to consume as much coffee as possible, clean up the apartment a bit, bathe ourselves, dress ourselves, look presentable and be prepared for a lot of chit chat.

But also I really needed to come.

As Rye dutifully (I mean bless him, seriously) began sweeping, I attached myself to him from behind, shoved my hands into his underwear and did one of the things on this earth I know how to do best, coaxed a boner out of him.

"What do you think you're doing?"
"Milking you?"

The trip to the bedroom was swift. I bent myself over the bed, asked him to find his way inside my already totally wet vagina, and plugged in the Hitachi. "Oh, it's going to be quick," he said. Race against time, HELLO, of course. The combination of his cock being exactly where I needed it, the Hitachi smoothly circling my clit and his fingers clutching my hips took me over the edge in roughly two minutes. I came the only way someone with familial anxiety can come when they really need to -- hard, like a freight train. And then, something else happened. I farted. Like, a big, unmistakeable one right in the middle. And then I laughed, and then we kept going, and then Rye came, and then I laughed some more.

Although I am blushing as I type this, I think it's really important to tell you this nonsense. Because the truth is that before we were Violet and Rye, before Uncommon Appetites and Make Love Not Porn and all of your amazing stories and queries and honesty came into our lives, I probably would have spontaneously combusted with embarrassment. Just shriveled up and died. Which is so stupid, because in truth, it happens to all of us, and really just signals that we have let all our inhibitions go and given ourselves over to getting fucked good and hard.

But, it's still embarrassing no matter how you slice it. I blushed. I apologized. More than once. Rye said, "You're being ridiculous. And honestly, I thought it was a queef until you started laughing." And then it was over. We went on with our day.

So again, thanks for relaxing my inhibitions. Thanks for making us feel honest. Thanks for being honest and revealing things to us that you've never revealed to anyone else. It's making us better, it's making us more comfortable, it's making us happier. And we really hope we're doing the same for some of you.