I wound up reading my rant, and the group decided that it needed to be left for the center. So we wound up doing just that. There was a ceremonial signing of the poem-thing; I wrote a brief explanation about the group needing the creative safe space that has absolute creative freedom, the center needing creative safe space that had no profanity, no sex, and reasonably few triggers, and these two needs being absolutely incompatible. We signed it. We departed. I've been saying all day that it's ripe for an exodus, but I drew the line at plagues.
It would have been a faster exit, except M and her schedule are wacky so she tracked down a Center Higher-Up Person and explained her personal grievance. That sort of hampered the swish-out. But in the end, all went well. We wound up at the new place after a few wrong turns. The space is friendly and inviting, though somewhat dark. I ceremonially lit the tea light in the middle of the table, and we got down to business.
We will have to hack out a group charter or something.
Dinner was good. I produced sparkling cider that was almost cold enough, and eventually did get it open, though the first cap nearly hit our excellent waiter and the second cap went flying as well. Note to self: bring bottle opener.
There was ice cream. To prove a point, I licked whipped cream off M's finger. I wasn't paying too much attention at the time, given that I was busy licking and focusing on the technical skill of it, but she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely. I wonz.
We still do need to rename the group.
Now, I shall go be asleep.