I need a shot. Of whiskey. Stat.

Oh Jesus Mother Fucking Titty FUCK.

I had sex with The Poet today.

I don't have energy right now to describe the crazy event. But suffice to say that this conversation followed, a few hours later over text:

OcytocinAddiction: Can we try this over?
OxytocinAddiction: I regret the way things happened today. I shouldn't have slept with you when you were coming down from MDMA. And I shouldn't have eagerly agreed to take total control. Those first few rounds with someone new are about experimenting and playing. Not guessing what will work for most guys will work for you and pressing on.
The Poet: So what's your proposal?
OxytocinAddiction: Back up three paces on the sex. Not the flirtation, per se. But make an effort to hang out one on one without messing around.
The Poet: Agreed!
OxytocinAddiction: Maybe work on touch, massage, cuddles. During conversation.
OxytocinAddiction: I just feel like there should be chemistry. And I don't want to kill it.
The Poet: Also agreed.
OxytocinAddiction: Rationality Rocks.
The Poet: Indeed.

And a little later...

OxytocinAddiction: Thank you for letting us try Operation: Three Steps Back.
The Poet: It's OK. I like you too much to let some awkward interaction scare me away.

I will write it all out later. But JESUSTITTYFUCKINGCHRIST. Most bizarre experience of my life.