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| Update Since CS has removed the journal function on here, Im rarely here. Ive moved to another kink site under the same handle, so if you should see me there do reach out.....A journal, a blog, or my personal self therapy sessions...youll find me journaling away on here often. My mind is a busy one and emptying it here has brought me the most lovely friends who find they can relate. And yall reaching out to me lets me know Im not alone in feeling all the sometimes uncomfortable things I feel. Now then I have been vanillaing away and find its not so much kink I miss, but the surprise inherent in a rocky road relationship. I appreciate stability, but not in the bedroom....there I want to never know quite where we will go next so sex is new each time. Huge libido here and a decided preference for a thick cock. I am not looking to play but rather know a partner intimately and develop trust. I am monogamous though on occasion I may share a man if he is bi with another man but I am always present. I do not share my man with another woman. If you are currently in a relationship or poly, pleae go away. Ahem...so...Sex is a must for me, and a lot of it. Im a switch, though in the majority of my relationships I end up the Dominant one. I truly love rope bondage as it is my least indulged kink, but the only one that permits me to just sink into sensation. The most fulfilling relationship to me is with a man who is both loving and protective. I am not slave material or a masochist at all, but I respond well to some impact play if it is balanced with tenderness...the k followed by the kiss or a tongue lapping at my sore bottom. I can push much further when I feel completely supported than if some chucklehead thinks he can just whale at me and fuck me....no thanks... I am extremely fond of binding and blindfolding a man, sensually torturing him til hes begging for the privilege of cumming. I adore watching a man lose control as much as I enjoy him doing the same to me. Its a bit of a game between two strong players who tussle and fight and bite and scratch and suck and kiss and fuck...until the bed linens are left in ruin. And we turn to each other with kickass grins and tuck in til our hearts slow.
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I'd attempted to edit my profile to find the process meant I was down a bit more than a week. So I won't be editing anymore despite feeling it's a bit out of date. I've taken down my pics, which while representative of my curvy body, are more than a decade old. And no, I've no desire to post more. Words, an exploratory spirit, essential kindness, inclusiveness, and heart have always attracted me before looks. And sure, I know the tropism that men are visual creatures, but I'm not searching for a mate or a lover these days. My profile and presence here is for me. And even though the site sucks in many ways, I've met some wonderful men here and formed wonderful friendships with them. I adore men, and am the parent of sons. But I've no wish to serve, assuage ego, compromise, or really put anyone's needs or desires (including that of submission) before my own these days. I care deeply, support friends and family both, and nurture as a matter of course. But darlings, I've created a beautiful if largely solitary life and value time as my most precious resource. I'm not willing to spend non-work time on more work in a relationship. But hey if you want to correspond in friendship, curiousity, or to lend an ear, by all means do. I value thoughtful men. |
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Dipping my toe into the CS journal pool after its four year absence...Brain-->Keyboard-->Kink Site works for me and I've never been entirely sure why. Is it when my experience resonates? The occasional thoughtful response? The good juju/karma/thoughts/prayers sent my way when I'm wading through emotional mud? Or even more seldom the guy who seems to respond to my words which echo far closer to who I am rather than how I look?
My pics on here are old. Sure I could still rock a corset, though I've given up borrowing lovers' uniforms. Though really fucking in kevlar or the weight of a fully laden duty belt on corseted hips is rather delicious if only in memory. Tsk, tsk, I mustn't go the uniform route. Plus I'm a decade older than I played with soldiers and cops who tend to be retired by now. I much prefer contemporaries age-wise, though I'll float a decade back and fore.
I remain haunted by a few past lovers, primarily since Guru, my old standby FWB, moved and is no longer able to knock on my door. There were elements missing from our interaction and he really loved just to plow away at me hard missionary, by far my favorite position, but I like to switch everything up a bit. We'd had moments of transcendescence when the energy in the room was mind-blowing and the sex as well. But then you inevitably try to recapture those one-offs and it's impossible. Such moments happen organically. But oh, the simple regular stress relief of fucking regularly and being able to go from whispers to out right begging screaming profanities...well, I miss that.
I'm happy for new digs, completely removed from my old neighbors ten feet on each side waterside cottage. I miss the water, but not the people and lack of privacy. I find odd places to live, unusual houses, not because I look for them but perhaps I have a sense of general openness and exploration that leads me off the beaten path. New for me is my home of a few months, a whitewashed converted poultry barn. Far from my comfort zone and usual preferences, the rural fringe lost its novelty fast. Suddently empty nest, new job, new digs, new world...survivable but months of physical and deep emotional struggle. Feline companions saved me many a time; friends occasionally; and some folks on another kink site often.
But I'm a vintage balance scale myself, shifting the weight to and fro, always trying to get back to some sort of of stability. And I manage in time. Truly though these months despite an intense job I've since left for another, introduced a pervasive sense of loss of purpose. I've never felt that before. I image many folks experience the same sense as they age, retire, nests empty...I should've expected it, but the natural processes of growth I've always embraced as a matter of course. This too I did mentally, but my heart was left bereft.
Better now. I rather adore my goat neighbors, so much that when they ambulate, winter shaggy furred through the closest pasture, I toss on a scarf and pop out to "Hello goat" them at the fence. They pause, occasionally meander over to quietly sniff my hand like a dog, but move on when there's no food to be had. I don't pet or feed them, simply enjoy their presence and tell them they are beautiful nanny goats.
It's the time when winter seeps in, Christmas trees dragged to the road and few lights to brighten these long nights. My college freshmen will return to school and the detritus of shoes, coats, and a frig over filled will dissipate. I'll settle back in again; take on new challenges. And maybe, just maybe I'll find a body warm enough and mind engaging enough to invite in. Into my charming if unconventional new abode, into my much patched heart, and into a body missing that long slow slide of fulfillment.
-Pen |
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Testing, testing, 1, 2, 3.... |
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I lost a post from earlier essentially detailing my lunch this week, one-on-one, with a cohort and friend. Women are comfortable talking relationships, quibbles, past betrayals, all that without fear of another woman castigating her for her "baggage" or "drama." We determine much of the value of our lives in the quality of our relationships over other externals. Her first boyfriend, a stunner, contacted me on a dating site. We wont' date of course but it brough a great deal of her history out. And the choices she's made. Now she's on the kinky side herself. And we've been pretty open there. But learning now what I do of her, I realize there haven't been that many men in her life.
In mine...oh, I can't even hazard a guess. Lovers maybe hundreds. Romances...quite a few of those too. Kinky stuff? A few. Love love...less. Betrayals even fewer but those seem to have been the ones that stuck and created damage. And it shouldn't be with so many other just plain enjoyable moments.
My friend and I talked of TBH. Where is it? Well it isn't really anywhere and perhaps it never was. Though I was hoping we were drawing close. But I explained the tally of getting together only really 10 times, though most of those were weekends together. Sure 2 1/2 years of intimate talking makes one feel close. And there is is more trust than with anyone else. But he has moved from "I'll make time" when I'd be in town or there'd be an opportunity to get together to "I'll let you know." Well that pretty much does let me know where this is. And it ain't where I want it.
I teased a supersub for dating a girl in North Jersey, way too far to go for a date...he shot back with "and this from the girl who dates a guy she calls "Annapolis?" Tbh's other name I give him to my friends. Ha ha ha! He got me.
So I'm trying to move on re the TBH stuff. "I don't know" doesn't make me feel good. It makes me feel like a leftover-if-nothing-better-comes-up girl. And I'm NOT that girl.
I had a non-date with the professor I never slept with tonight. Yeah, now that's hard to explain. So brilliant mathematician, with books, and patents and all that intellictual shine...You'll remember him from a few years ago as the vegan prof. And I gave up with his dining limitations and finally said let's go vegan. Surprise he brought a bottle of wine though he doesn't drink. That was nice.
I took on the role of confidant, wiser older, though I'm only one of those. He does have his charm. And it ended up being a fun night. We split the check. A hug. A kiss. A little regret on his part about how the lady he's dating now doesn't like spanking or being tied up. And I was home by 9:15 pm. He'd be a nice friend. And I don't even know what his cock looks like...I think I'd rather not. Yep, from me!
Tomorrow is a date I'm trying hard not to get too excited about. Brunch. My kind of brunch. Funky, fun. Probably with champagne and walking it off on the boardwalk afterwards. Another educator. I like smart men. But this one I think has a rowdy side. There's something so appealing about those of us who can fit the roles we must and leave them behind when we can. I just like the guy's grin, but I'm a sucker for a smile. And banter. Maybe just maybe. And then I can let TBH go the way I should've long ago. I don't think I'll ever be more than an occasional FWB to him and I don't think he even cares about sex. I would like to care again and maybe even have sex with another person...but I'll take brunch to start.
Pen |
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My children are breaking. One casted; one on crutches. Poor darlings. The hazards of adventurers who push the envelop and climb too many trees. All fixable thank heavens. One of my children's teachers was so astonished to find a child who still climbs trees, though sorry about the crutches. But heads are on straight and undamaged, so we'll just take it easy and heal.
I have worked impossibly hard these past days while worried about my children. Fortunately taking care of them is probably what I do best. I'm less concerned about TBH and more concerned about sleep which I'll get to do in a fresh bed with the silk pillowcases. I dream better with my head on silk. It's supposed to be better for your skin and hair. But I still wake every morning looking like I've stuck my finger in a wall socket. I think I must thrash. I can't imagine I'm all that pleasant to sleep with. Though I have my moments....
I am sorry folks, and I'm way behind on emails. Just wait...it'll soon be a pleasure i can indulge in.
Sweet dreams.
Pen |
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I'm still riding the wash of positivity I feel post taxes. Yeah right, who feels that over taxes?? To have done something I feared and dreaded and had an unexpectedly positive outcome, is just a relief. Yesterday was HARD. Not because of taxes but the sheer crowd of people who all needed something from me and needed it fast made it impossible to please several. I finally came clean and said, "hey, sorry, I'm dealing with this, this, and this, including my youngest with a fracture I must sort out...". Or "Hey, I get you're running late, but I MUST leave..." and so I did. I'm kind of proud of yesterday. And although I'm usually content with who I am and what I do, it's not often I can use the word "proud" as it relates to me. Accompanying that is an unapologetic (though I read in "sorry" in the sentence above) approach when folks want something from me. Often I'd tow the line though their way of doing things is different than my own. Even my landlord who texted me two time to see if I'd put the rent check in his mailbox got a "sorry, not yet but shortly" since I'd had him spoiled by paying him early. Now I'm just going to wait til it works better for me though still by the due date. I've been too much of a pleaser when it comes to folks I have business with, now I'm just going to make an effort and stop trying to be more than perfect.
I've started making coffee here which is very different for a tea girl. But my children prefer to start the day with a cup and I think I spent $60 in lattes all told on coffee when they were on Spring Break. I'll teach them to make their own. And yes, I do own a coffee maker, if an old but fancy one. They are enjoying themselves to excess with their AM potions. And even I have to admit coffee in the AM does smell good.
There's a new oven to replace the one that make my Easter morning popovers into eggy hockey pucks. It's a bit fancy. Now I can work with anything as long as I have an oven thermometer and it stays to temp. Basic chemistry. But now that I know my children fear they will still not know how to cook when they hit college, it's time to teach them what I know. And as a former professional chef, I know quite a bit. Time to revisit those popovers again, with butter and rberry jam like they do at the Popover Tea on Mt. Desert Island.
There's an osprey nest in the middle of my town I see on my drive, it's active and full. And the osprey box across the water I see is occupied as well. Swimming deer yesterday. A heron at the end of the yard last night. Magnolias and daffodils blooming. And it's getting greener and greener. I can't wait til the trees pop and the whole world is that new fresh green you feel like you can breathe in.
Budget and paperwork ahead. And an attorney to pay. But hell, I could owe taxes too. Time to keep it all manageable which comes from taking it on head on. I used to (still do) call my ex the ostrich. I'll let things go myself and breed stress. But sometimes sticking your head in the hole in the sand just makes it deeper. Snoring cats here, but work to go...
Pen |
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I really AM single. For the first time in 23 years, I did my taxes solo, on time, and owe nothing. After years of ex's penalty and interest and a tax case that took years, I am at zero. And zero is a whole lot better than digging out a hole of minuses. I feel utterly triumphant. And that is something I haven't felt. A new emotion. I feel capable. I feel triumphant. And I feel like I can deal with what the fuck ever. Today I believe in angels...
Pen |
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One feels judgemental needing a certain level of expertise or intellect in who one dates. Okay, I do. It seems unfair to find someone who seems kind and of good character, in a world where there seems to be a shortage of such, unsuitable for a relationship. It's not like I need a man with an advanced degree as I've known plenty of blue collar guys who were both intelligent and capable. And certainly I found them extremely appealing. But as supersub reminds me "the heart wants what it wants." And so too does mine apparently though I usually tamp what my heart wants down and try to make sense of what I want from a rational point of view.
Some people are just easy to talk to. To me it seems a simple thing of both making the effort to ask questions and put each other at ease. But some men I find have a . "What is your fantasy date?" Ummm...I'm sort of past the fantasy dates where I get a bigger rock for my finger served under a silver dome purporting to be dessert in one of NYC's finest restaurants. Yes, that actually happened. The fancy French restaurant catering a picnic for two in the park. That too. Harry's Bar in Venice for a lunch approaching a million lira. Helicopter rides. Surprises. Coming back to earth, I landed hard. Now I'm happy if he shows up, has decent teeth, and can see his feet. Not quite...but I'm not getting dressed up for a fancy dinner, I prefer to buy my own jewelry, and if I laugh most of the evening, I can be happy with a good hot dog with sauerkraut and pickles and mustard.
I don't want to live a movie or a plot of a romance novel. I just want to be real with someone who's really glad they met me and tells me so. And man, it would be good to have some great sex. The advantage of turning that part off is that I get used to it. I don't even masturbate as much unless I really need stress relief and it makes me tired post. When I'm turned on, the problem usually is that I stay ON. For days. It can be pressuring to a man and what should be fun turns into something they feel they have to do. It's almost better that I'm less driven there.
I did get compliments this weekend on my physical looks. I do have a pretty face and nicely colored hair and eyes. But such compliments while somewhat reassuring, make me uncomfortable and strike me as false. Like the man who doesn't know me emailing that "good morning beautiful." I'd rather have someone tell me they enjoy how I'm fully present in the moment or they enjoy my spirit. Though if TBH told me I'm beautiful, I'd like it and probably fall off my chair.
Parenting is a lot of work. Sometime when I go solo'ing for a weekend and come back, I'm astonished at how much work I do and how little credit I give myself for doing it. Until one day a few weeks ago I kept track of what I did in a day. It was 2 pages long. And I wasn't working that day. The details of making things run as smoothly as they do here are a skill I have. The scheduling. The time management. The interpersonal managment. Hospitality and restauranteur skills. Financial managment. And the endless minutiae while keeping cool and staying ahead of the wave. We LAUGH. Oh we laugh. Last night with my youngest bird with his broken wing, roasted chicken dinner scent filling the house, we sat at the table together and just howled as everyone discussed their weekend activities with me. And I got hugs and affection as they leaned into me back home at last.
Stormy, cold and the water's rising outside. But I'm going to continue to take the high ground and maybe, just maybe, I'll get to tuck into to a warm strong male shoulder one day and just sink in and let go. There are robins perched right outside the window in the blooming magnolia tree. They love this rainy weather to pluck worms that come up from their flooded holes for air. I'm fond of picking up the earthworms who make it to the concrete, saving them from puddles and putting them in high ground hidden under a shrub. Do a random act of kindness today or simply smile at someone unexpectedly folks. We all need a little love.
Pen |
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Two dates. No sex. It's hard for me to connect. And then I start thinking how simply and chill it flows with TBH and how even silence isn't awkward and I'm like Fuck!!! I did just wake up today and text him a "Let's get together the 28th..". We'll see.
I was giving Supersub a play-by-play as he did his date to me this weekend. I'm nearly certain the first is married, going through his midlife crisis. But the attention from a decade-younger fairly attractive guy was fun and he did the kiss lean in rather well. But I put the kabosh on it and got him moving. Mulitple calls from his "daughter." Maybe it was; maybe it wasn't. But if you've been divorced 12 years surely you've got dating down by now. He asked to see me again today as I'm apparently "so chill and relaxed." But I knew he really just wanted to kiss and feel me up in his car; boys, seriously, I'm not a teenager anymore. If you can't host in your bedroom in your own house...then go away. Sigh. Plus he did everything cash and continues to message on the dating site, I'm thinking he has much to hide. And I listened to him say he was at the mall with the first call. I just wanted to tell him to grow up. Sigh.
And yes, there was a sex party this weekend. Which I nixed. I've lost my taste for it all.
I did try to do a solo night out to dinner. But I took a nap with the windows open and magnolia tree blooming and wait too late. Not even a solo spot at the bar to eat. Chipolte's was my friend as I needed steak even if on a salad. With tonight's chill, and my children returned, I'm roasting 2 birds, mashed with gravy and corn (even though corn isn't actually a vegetalbe). Candles lit, fireplace on...and cupcakes waiting for dessert. My youngest son had an accident and fracture this weekend. I wasn't there and I've done my best to remain clinically calm, but I'm looking forward to putting my hands on him myself. My ex wouldn't take him to the ER, but at my insistence and final threat that I'd come get him and take him myself...he did. I was worried about a brain injury, so a simple fracture is a better outcome even though he's hurt. A woman has to know which fights to fight.
Today's date was at a local Italian place. A late lunch plate of gnocci was lovely as was the guy. But he works a retail job and has a high school education. Should that matter? Well when I'm working on still another degree, it makes it hard for me to be happy with a nice guy who sees me as a sweet pretty girl. I was that when I was 17. Now I'm more. And I want someone who sees that, and the more and understands and respaspects what I do. But the balance between a smart guy versus a pedantic one can be hard to find. But there are lots of smart men out there who also know how to have fun. I just have an inconvenient focus on one in particular. I list my type as "sapiophile." And I am. But ony if he's an irreverant, funny guy who refuses to take himself too seriously.
Be well and stay warm folks.
Pen |
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Two dates. No sex. It's hard for me to connect. And then I start thinking how simply and chill it flows with TBH and how even silence isn't awkward and I'm like Fuck!!! I did just wake up today and text him a "Let's get together the 28th..". We'll see.
I was giving Supersub a play-by-play as he did his date to me this weekend. I'm nearly certain the first is married, going through his midlife crisis. But the attention from a decade-younger fairly attractive guy was fun and he did the kiss lean in rather well. But I put the kabosh on it and got him moving. Mulitple calls from his "daughter." Maybe it was; maybe it wasn't. But if you've been divorced 12 years surely you've got dating down by now. He asked to see me again today as I'm apparently "so chill and relaxed." But I knew he really just wanted to kiss and feel me up in his car; boys, seriously, I'm not a teenager anymore. If you can't host in your bedroom in your own house...then go away. Sigh. Plus he did everything cash and continues to message on the dating site, I'm thinking he has much to hide. And I listened to him say he was at the mall with the first call. I just wanted to tell him to grow up. Sigh.
And yes, there was a sex party this weekend. Which I nixed. I've lost my taste for it all.
I did try to do a solo night out to dinner. But I took a nap with the windows open and magnolia tree blooming and wait too late. Not even a solo spot at the bar to eat. Chipolte's was my friend as I needed steak even if on a salad. With tonight's chill, and my children returned, I'm roasting 2 birds, mashed with gravy and corn (even though corn isn't actually a vegetalbe). Candles lit, fireplace on...and cupcakes waiting for dessert. My youngest son had an accident and fracture this weekend. I wasn't there and I've done my best to remain clinically calm, but I'm looking forward to putting my hands on him myself. My ex wouldn't take him to the ER, but at my insistence and final threat that I'd come get him and take him myself...he did. I was worried about a brain injury, so a simple fracture is a better outcome even though he's hurt. A woman has to know which fights to fight.
Today's date was at a local Italian place. A late lunch plate of gnocci was lovely as was the guy. But he works a retail job and has a high school education. Should that matter? Well when I'm working on still another degree, it makes it hard for me to be happy with a nice guy who sees me as a sweet pretty girl. I was that when I was 17. Now I'm more. And I want someone who sees that, and the more and understands and respaspects what I do. But the balance between a smart guy versus a pedantic one can be hard to find. But there are lots of smart men out there who also know how to have fun. I just have an inconvenient focus on one in particular. I list my type as "sapiophile." And I am. But ony if he's an irreverant, funny guy who refuses to take himself too seriously.
Be well and stay warm folks.
Pen |
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A week of major meetings and deadlines, all of which required full brain power and such intenstive prep/research that most folks wouldn't believe. That's my particular skill, research. IDK why precisely. A combination I think of my need to know, having fallen in love with 2 men who were adulters (it takes some serious research to find that out), and my go-to...read about a problem I'm having to distance and compartmentalize it. My analytical skills came to me late, perhaps the past 7 years. Prior I was an emotional reactive creature first. Actually most of the time. I was good at drama until the day I made my baby boy cry fighting with his dad. From then on I viewed drama as a luxury I couldn't afford to indulge in.
Now since I'm STILL (yawn) attempting to online date in an attempt at a real relationship with someone I hope I'll know wants me (instead of having to guess and hope most of the time with TBH)...I see the word "drama" a lot. Usually preceded by a "no." Women hate drama too, guys, but when I see it in a profile I swipe left. Attitude is everything. And actually I wouldn't mind having a rip roaring fight with man I trust and fuck it out...nothing quite so hot as make up sex.
Sex these days...well, I'm not really having it as these past months it's been anything but hot. And yes, that means those crazy squirting o's seem to have gone away. The laundry is easier. I don't seem to need sex so much for stress relief in the ways I used to utterly NEED it. And it seems to matter a whole lot more WHO I fuck over getting to fuck. Y'all know who I want in my bed. But I expect there's a local guy out there who is better for me. Just have to find him. In that effort I've two dates this weekend. Neither of which I really want to go on. But like many things I start feeling that way and then end up feeling good I made myself do it in the end. It's just there's an artifice to meeting up with on onliner versus a guy you met in the course of real life. It can unmotivating and unnatural. It starts out a game that you can't always shift to something real.
I've opened the windows. My little tiny living room has a great big window that is essentially the front wall of the house. There have been some spring surprises here. The ornamental tree I am apt to find my children perching in, is a deciduous magnolia. It's an older mature variety with those pink blooms and fuzzy buds and it's just truly blossoming today. Gorgeous thing. I can now see the back fence bush is a lilac so I'm feeling more at home and not missing my old overgrown gardens so much. Though the property is still mine and I expect to dig up and move a few things I like in the next weeks. Simple things like the herbs. Though if the house still isn't sold by august/fall, I may pull lily bulbs as lilies were my favorite flower and I planted many in remembrance of my Grandmother.
I should change and head out to the local watering spot, but I may just run to the fancy grocery and grill a steak to go with all the healthy salads I picked up today. This girl needs meat. In more ways than one, but I don't plan on getting laid this weekend. I think part of it is that I'm a bit more of a germaphobe. My place needs some work since my week was all about task completion and managing stress. I think the end result was good. And the next 6 or 7 weeks ahead look lovely before June hits me hard. I need this time. But it's always when I have more time I miss not having a partner the most. But I'm not going to let that stop me from making every solo weekend glorious.
Pen |
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Would I be interested in a younger slave boy? Would I be interested in a sissy maid? No, no, no...I get y'all like the language and protocol of the BDSM'y sect. But babes, I'm here because I wanna break the rules not trade 'em in for a whole new set. Nor do I want to be your slut, your slave, you sub...Nor do I want to be your Domme. Nor do I want you to "train" me. I'm quite well trained and discliplined as it is. I've no need to take on someone else who needs me to take care of them. A partnership of equals is what I seek. Now that means we can switch and enjoy a multitude of pleasures. Or we can choose to fuck missionary after dinner and wine and fall asleep together skin-to-skin. Or we I can take a quicky in the AM with me bent over the bed so I start my workday filled with his cum. Or maybe, just maybe we can tuck in to watch tv with my head on his shoulder and our breaths will syncronize and we'll fall asleep content, without even having fucked at all. My alarm in the morning screams Queen's "I want it all" and that is precisely what I want.
Pen |
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Funny, this evening a past lover reached out to me. This morning a friend's still spectacularly handsome ex HS boyfriend messaged me. And a few days ago Rockstar told me he's there if I want, though he'd understand if we'd run our course and I have a friend in him. That WAS rather sweet. But then we're the same age and he's a bit of a pothead so VERY chill. Plus if you've worked for real in the music industry, you become very accepting of others. Particularly their sexual foibles. My answers ranged from "no, I'm no longer doing that" to "well at least we know we have one thing in common; we both love my friend;" and finally, a thanks much...just very busy and love his spirit. Though even rockstar with all I have in common with him professionally (he's not JUST a musician)...I don't want to fuck.
I think a great part of it is that I don't want to fuck and leave. I want to fuck and tuck in and do pillow talk and have breakfast the next day. The catch? There aren't too many men I want to actually cuddle up and sleep with in bed. And for a girl who found sex like meal times and sleep...a basic human need without fuss...I have no real idea what changed for me. I never wanted anyone in my bed before. Why do I find the notion of such coziness so appealing?
I'm wondering if my estrogen levels are sinking and menopause is closer than my physiology is indicating. I can't quite explain it otherwise. I'm finding penises I don't know rather distasteful. And I used to find them all rather fascinating. When I was a young woman I wasn't fond of them at all, finding them akin the red wobbly comb and jowls you see on a Turkey's head. I do admire a fine one, on a man who grooms well. Hairy balls really should be shaved. They are so appealing that way. Makes me want to kiss and suck them. Only...I really want to know what I'm putting in my mouth.
Perhaps I've had my fill? Well if so, I can say I've definitely made up for all the orgasms I missed in the first 25 years of my sexual life. The last decade has been stellar. I was a lucky woman. It's been months since I've squirted. So I'm not sure I still can. I'm simply not as driven by sex. I'm driven, yes. But it's by connection and the need to have people I admire around me. Not just anyone. And not just any cock will do.
Pen |
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Well....the man texted me. Now that was a surprise. My day didn't go by without bringing him into it someway...Lunch with my cohort. Sorting things out. Two of our group have been together through some pretty deep muck for about 7 years. Both are ladies I love and admire. Both women live with a male they don't entirely like, but love or decided it's just too complicated to change. Or both. And both ladies have some serious control issues. Do I? I think I don't really, but of course we all do.
Perfection. I call myself a recovered perfectionist. Though okay, my clothes are mostly color coded and my spices alphabatized. But I've been a single parent with 3 children for 14 years, so you let things go. I've worked. I've not worked. I've gone back to school. And I've tried hard to do the right thing and not let my personal goals impact my family. Though of course they have. But it's been helpful, modeling such. And kept me sane. And yes, there've been times I didn't think I was going to make it through. But I did. And I will.
WTF is is about TBH that haunts me? I like him. He's not like everyone else though he can fit anywhere. There are times the man says something to me that is snarky but so incisive that my mouth drops and I have no words to say. I like that. I like that he's a smartass who does good things and still wants to make the world a better place. I like that he admits he's completely bored at his job, is impatient with his elderly mom and then feels terrible about it, and that he has regrets about things he did not do. It takes some self knowledge to admit such things. And the ability to put ego aside. That to me is a person who had evolved and might just be capable of continuing to do so.
He still pisses me off. But that's mostly because I want. And he's flakey. I think he's trying so very hard to stave off his fear of the genetic risk of dementia with his diet, health, and life choices. I hope he is able to. His is mind to be cherished. Now if someone could just find me some finger handcuffs so I could quit typing the manifesto for the TBH fan club here, please do. I dislike wanting anyone, even knowing the fact that I still can is a good thing. And I don't even want to fuck him the most. I just want to sit across a table and listen to him, watch him grin, and let the damn idiot steal my food.
Tonight was children at home. My brain exhausted. Shrimp sale so a shrimp scampi pasta that my boys couldn't stop thanking me for. And salmon for my girl who soon has a birthday ahead. Tomorrow is heavy heavy work. Brain stuff. I am really truly going to need downtime after next week.
So yeah, this is how even a relatively rational girl thinks when she's into a guy she is unlikely to have.
Pen
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Wow, I feel like all I've done is complain. Sorry darlings. Sometimes those are the words that need to come out.
This dating site thing...I'm just not attached to any particular outcome and get the heebie jeebies when a guy I've never met, emailed over 2 or 3 days, takes it personally that I won't talk on the phone or text or follow his rules. Men who get angry over such non events...well then I know we don't suit. And if he keeps sending text after text (after I've wished him well in his search), I just don't get it. Sometimes it is simply that time to go away.
Of course I'm a fine one to talk. You think I can leave TBH alone or keep him out of my thoughts? There's no angst there anymore since I decided to do my next jaunt whether he's in or out. And I'll give him a timeframe to yay or nay then invite my friends to share the room in a quaint little hotel I've already booked for a rate I can stomach. Or I'll solo it. But 2 beds and a beach...seems like a good thing to share. I'm quite pleased I just did it and don't have to think about it anymore. No more hours perusing AirBnB or travelocity. June is going to be a BUSY month which means that's when my career will take off...just watch...
A good collaboration this morning, though some egos were bruised. I realized I work better with others than most. Inclusive. Funny. I know my stuff. I'm not a great communicator and will sometimes take the path of least resistance if it's easier because I don't care as much nor do I need the control role. I can do it. But it's not my preference because I rule benevolently most of the time in my life and quite frankly, IDK who put me in charge. If someone else wants my job, by all means do take it...
I'm even pleased at the day today though the next days must be mostly work and a great deal of it. Brain stuff. But if nothing else, my brain is still pretty great. A little slower to process, but able to simplify intensely complex issues. Or at least present them in an organized manner and lead one to understanding. If only the heart were as manageable.
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I texted the damn man again. So there you have it.
My foray onto the new dating site. Several of the men thus far are shallow. Insisting they are perfect and would do please me 24/7. And do give them my number so they can text me pictures of their lives. Do they want a woman? Or an audience?
My pic is apparently "mysterious" there. It is a face shot, though from an angle showing my newly colored red hair. The color is beautiful and I took the pic for me, never really intending to share it. But given my new fuck-it-I'm-not-gonna-meet-anyone-if-I'm-not-out-there, but-I-don't-have-much-faith-in-this-Walmart-of-dating...profile...I put the pic up.
After endless compliments and a little banter, they want to know if I'm fat. Which pretty much means I delete them right there. I'm curvy for sure, and my waist should be about 3 inches thinner. But 44"X36"X44" still means I have a shape though I'm not gym fit. Now I don't find obesity particularly appealing either, but skinny men and washboard abs are something I have to overlook rather than what I want. I like men with a little bulk to their bodies...the viking over the runner. And yeah, tall is nice. But I've dated mostly men just a few inches taller than I. Do you know the single feature that is seen as less desirable to women on dating sites? Well, short men, you guessed it. I think that's just silly.
So perhaps I have my own biases. But when a man chooses "physically fit" in a word bank to describe himself over "kind," "adventurous," or you name the adjective...I pass by. Now I have no problem with a guy not finding me appealing on a dating site. But somehow not falling into the way they want to run the interaction, turns a man into a drama queen. Let's text..."no." I'm not giving out my number unless I think we're suited or going to meet. So they ask again. And I repeat my answer. If I don't fall into line, they tell me they have gotten burned too many times and are going to have to move on. I wish them well as by that time I know they're not for me. But then I get told how wonderful they are and how wrong I am for a few additional emails before I finally block them.
Honestly? WTF? I know why people just stop dating period. And I considered it. But as thoroughly happy as my life pretty much is and the course it is taking at present, some weekends are better shared. It's really that damn simple. I'm not getting married again. I'm not living with anyone anytime soon. I just want to expand his world and have him expand mine....and see what comes. And yeah, I'd sure like to fuck.
It seems as if everything is a vent lately but this is a rather stressful week with a bit more ahead and some magic to make. Do be well y'all.
Pen
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A solo night. I tried to do the usual hot bar at Whole Foods but I couldn't bear kale meatloaf or meatless meatballs. Some nights this girl wants some real meat. In more ways than one. So I headed to one of my fav local places and was an improper lady (or so my Gran would say) and mosey'ed up to the bar. For some reason a dark and stormy someone else made tasted better this particular evening. I was looking at salad and fish but decided WTF and went for a petite prime rib au jus and horseradish, baked potato with all the good stuff, and nice little salad. The dark and stormies were not as big as I pour so I permitted myself two and a lingering hot tea before I headed home.
I went a little exhibitionist tonight. Oh not like TBH (yeah, I had to put him in here though I did not text the man tonight) with his bright lights and no shades nakedness. But I did "forget" to put down the blind as I tossed my gorgeous red bag on the table and began to light candles and tucked up to the Hemmingway table to check the new dating website emails. My neighbor is a single male and on occasion it's fun to keep him curious though I've gotten over my initial crush on him when I first moved here. He's not very friendly at all and doesn't spend nearly enough time with his dogs. I get busy but those poor creatures...I'm getting a lot of emails. I wrote a different sort of profile. No darlings, not like here. It was real like me.
I said simply that I have a good happy life and I find my adventures solo. But y'all know some weekends are better shared and that, simply, was my reason to be there. I talked about how I'm not an empty nester, so move on if children aren't a pleasure. I talked about how all my children have the same daddy and there's no ex or bf in the background. I asked for a local guy. I said a bunch more stuff about how I don't care about age as long as you are healthy and real. And I wrote what I can give, and that I'll share: A genuinely nice kind person across the table from you who will listen without judgement and try to find common ground. An honest "It was great meeting you, but I don't think we're suited" if that should be the case. I learn from everyone I meet and appreciate your time. If the chemistry is mutual, banter, curiousity, transparency, and time. Also if the chemistry is there, a real, valued, changeable, and fun physical relationship. No games. I will expand your world. And this was the best one:
The possibility of eventually being that sweet loving old couple who walks into the restaurant arm-in-arm for our early bird special to the smiles of the other diners who wish they were us. I envision that for myself. I truly do. IDK who he's going to be but eventually one day someone is going to adore me and I'll probably even want to take care of him. But mostly when I take on a guy, I take on responsibility for his happiness and I make it my mission to make him grin since that's also what makes me happy.
I also reddened my hair before I went out and ignored the boys at the bar. And you know what? I had a GOOD night. Of course my ego is speaking for part of that as I came home to endless emails on yes, the vanilla dating site. And blessedly, banter with a cop a decade younger than me. I miss that the most...the conversation. The flirt. The challenge. The delicious banter. I've given up uniforms other than to feel the rare occasion of heat ot my face should a particularly fine example catch my eye. The thing about 'em is they so damn good at manipulation and lying as they must in their business. But have it turned on you personally, and it's not great a skill. I speak of cuck of course who I essentially told off tonight, without really intending to. But his shallowness and lack of regard for others...well I can't listen to the man anymore and he kept texting and texting.
The one thing I'll give TBH whether he wants me or not, is that he takes time from his home and career to telecommute and care for his 90 + year old parents, a week at a time most months. It's hard. And it takes a toll on him. But giving of self to those who did the same for you is to be admired for just that. I look at cuck, retired, with enough money to more than manage. Buying a bass boat, a tractor, a porshe, a place in FL, yawn, yawn, yawn...and I think OMG who the fuck cares? How can someone be that old and remain clueless? And careless? Oh yeah, I hired someone he says. Well that's great. I simply think we all, and particularly our elderly, deserve to respected and given our time rather than tucked away with someone we pay to do what we don't want to. It's one thing if you have a familiy to care for and children. Quite another to be a grown man with time on his hands to spend weekends or weeks at a time golfing in FL. Makes my skin crawl. But then I spend a few days a month with an 86 yr old I adore who I learn more from every time. Open your eyes folks. And listen.
I didn't expect to get on that soapbox. But give credit where it's due. And I commend TBH even if he can't or won't be who I want him to be to me. Some people it's good to see what they do and hopefully model from them how you'd like to live yourself. I admire a little sacrifice for those we love. And fuck the post ended up being about TBH again.
So much for that.
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I've failed miserably with no contact. Supersub told me today that whatever it is, I can't get over the guy. He went on to say "The fact is, there's still a chance for something; it's just not on [my] terms." I never set terms outwardly as I'm allergic to ultimatums. One day I'll simply ask if we could manage a weekend a month spend together. But you know how it goes, you end up wanting more...though perhaps he'd be so thoroughly annoying I could simply walk away. In any case, I am attempting to create distance and plan my plans of how to make places I must go into cool adventures. Ha! Supersub suggested I ask TBH to join me MORE so it would average out to monthly. But it seems to me I'm the only one who asks. Not true really...there was that "I'll make a picnic. Meet me at a Delaware beach in an hour." Mind you I'm more than an hour from DE...and likely further from it's beaches on a Sunday.
I wish I could live with spontaneity. Talking to a cohort today, we bemoaned our endless educational pursuits. And then I did the same with a PHD advisor who essentially said the same thing about her educational path. We're learning ideals in a flawed system and it's beginning to feel like a waste of time. But still we keep going. We like the collegiality; we like each other. We like that regular meeting time and keeping in touch. But oh, we're so done with education.
Optimistic me, I joined another dating site. Snarkly profile. And I mostly don't care if it comes to a meet. Why are folks flakes anymore? I've lost tolerance. I want someone who cares. But I'm certainly not going to meet a soulmate or even a companion without saying "here I am" somewhere. So on I go. Yes, I want an exclusive relationship. But it ain't happening so I'm not waiting for Prince Charming. I'll at least learn something and make some friends.
I do wish I was more accepting of lesser sexually. I feel like I'm stagnating there. Toys for now, but fuck....it's not really that hard to have a fun night. Men are funny. Push push push. And the minute I say okay, let's meet, 7 pm, Starbuck's, this evening...flake! I admit I am decisive. I want to make things happen and I don't have much time for bullshit. You want to test the waters? Stick in your foot at least. Don't just watch the water and say "I really wannna..." and then turn back and drive home to watch Colbert. Get fucking wet boys. Like I hope to get.
That's all.
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My Easter day post (CS was down):
I wish I could get TBH out of my mind entirely, but I suppose I'm a more visual creature than I thought. Knowing his place creates a picture, probably false, of him doing his thing. Somehow it's appealing. IDK if other's form the same ideas of me. There are men interested in me. Intelligent men. Interesting men. But IDK, when some discuss their poor choices in relationshiips, I get it. But then I think in some ways they're needy to get in so quick with women they don't know all that well and end up in a pickle. But then few are as slow as I. Dated my former husband 10 years before I married him. Waited nearly 6 years after that to have children. Then 4 years later, boom, it imploded though it was always fraught I think. I used to think I wanted him more than he wanted me; but then he couldn't bear the attention I used to get and would lecture prim and proper I, that the appearance of impropriety is just as bad as the impropriety itself. Damn holier than thou bastard. I was so good, didn't cheat..though if I knew how, I might've. I'd beg his help when men would make inappropriate passes behind his back, but he never had the balls to either protect or claim me. I'd ask him and give him looks not to leave the room if it meant leaving me alone with a particular man. But he'd leave anyway and I'd play ignorant and move to another side of the room.
Those days are largely over. I used to dress in ways that attracted attention. Not suggestively. But certainly the silks I wore suited me well. Long and flowing usually. Classy. But well fitted. And perfect on nearly every occasion. Women didn't like me much, particularly older ones. Now I try to be a plain Jane and no one takes offense. My hair is my only beacon. Well I do have pretty damn good lips and can pull off color there, so expect there's that. But dark wash jeans are for dress, khaki slacks for everyday and even I'm beginning to yawn. And my favored shoes are just plain ugly german felt clogs. But I adore them. I hate being caged, as do my feet. But I think I'd like to dine out properly in a dress with heels again. I've just left most of those restaurants far behind in my casual approach.
The meal was wonderful tonight. Spring peas, grilled lamb w garlic & mint, roasted potatoes though I forgot the rosemary. I think the deer ate mine. Candles tonight and we'll roadtip tomorrow to my sister of choice rather than blood. I need to be with a real friend who loves me and knows me. I need someone who I have a bit of history with. I tend to withdraw from folks occasionally as I am with my cohorts who are driving me mad anymore with their frantic overachiever approach to everything. But they haven't the home life I do. Nor the lack of time. And there's another adult in their home.
I think it's time I tossed my leopard print shoes. I'm better with subtlety than obviousness though men don't do so well there. Might be time to return to that; it's just that I'm out of patience with bullshit and time wasting. I finished my three months on the conservative paid dating site. I've moved on to a more mainstream one that is unfortunatley unpaid, which means more timewasters and married men. Still I figured best to be out there than tucked in the haven not trying at all. But I broke all the rules with my profile. A little snark. A lot real. We'll see. The problem is I don't really want to date someone new, but I'm hoping I'll get over it. It's time to leave TBH behind. There's a reason he's single.
Women, you know, we make you more than you are. Whatever you give us, we make better. Give us a house; we make a home. Give us your cum; we can give a baby. Yeah yeah, I know over simplistic. Give us little pieces of you and we can make it a love story. Minimalists we are not. Tell us your dreams, we want to help you make them come true. Sigh. I wish we could leave well enough alone and just do our own thing and let y'all help us make our dreams come true.
Sigh, and I couldn't help myself and texted still again when the man obviously doesn't want to talk to me. Yawn, he's banging on his drums in the basement as he does every night. I expect i'd find it hot if I could watch him since I'm a sucker. But same old make me want to shake the snowglobe and send the specks a'dancing.
So see, boys, this is what a woman thinks when she has too much time on her hands. Hell I found a way cool place to stay end of the month and I want him with me, but I won't ask him because I don't want the stress of non-committal. "I'll let you know." "I think so, but let me check." Do any of y'all give a good strong "yes!" Anytime other than when you cum? I miss the "I'll make it work." You know what it is?
Enthusiasm. I've got it. I express it. And it doesn't even have to be about a guy. It's usually about an experience. But I'd like it to be about someone else. And I'd sure like him to express some semblance of that about me.
Pen
Reviewed our texts for the past few days. He never asks me about me. He's not interested. I text 3 or 4 texts for his every one. It's desperate and not good. Time to stop. Just stop. No contact. |
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Thinking about TBH. Well not really about him. Sigh...like some of you enjoy perusing craigslist for fun, I love AirBNB. I think of weekends here or there; unique places to take my children to stay that they will remember forever. It could be staying on a boat, in a dockside fish shack, log cabin'ing...still working on a teepee or a treehouse. I have a fascination with treehouses. But I have a solo bday coming up and I like to mark it with an adventure; I thought of MD again, though not his town. And usually I invite him. But omg, it's so stressful with him. He can't seem to give straight answers. I end up feeling he's not really attracted to me. And isn't much interested in talking to me. Then I'll do something and he'll panic in a way and try to arrange a last min meet. IDK perhaps I'm over generalizing based on last week. But there are some regular trips I take, stay in hotels solo, that I included him in...and I'm rarely sure he'll show up. But that may be more me than him. Still if a woman is wanted, she knows it. As much as I like him, it may be time to roll on by this. But IDK I did stay at his house. Without him. See? It's kind of fucked up. We trust each other. And I suppose I should say, hey, what are we doing? But when I look at it ively, the under 10 times we've spent weekends together with occasional meets for a meal...the few years of conversations however intimate...I just don't know. I'd like to converse more. I'd like to spend a weekend a month together minimum, here or there, but I expect if I let it keep on going it'll just keep going this way. And there's the "let's talk" thing, but what is there really to say? I'd like to spend some time with you again? It always feels like I am the initiator though I don't know if that's accurate. Games just bore the fuck out of me. Sexually it's not great. It had the potential to be, but I think maybe he's either a little too old for me or I'm not his physical type. But then I have this idea it can be. We women give you too much benefit of the doubt, boys. He's never been the man who couldn't wait to push me against the wall in a lip lock, cock hard against my belly. At times he has fucked me well but not long, though I know he past issues with such things. His imperfections charm me; mine I expect do not. But I am harder on myself than on others.
This last trip turned out well, but he made it unnecessarily stressful. Now I don't really want to tell him what I'm doing so as not to go through a whole host of bullshitty games. But at the same time I want him with me. Heaven knows why. The banter, the snark, the way he had begun to sleep with his arm around me, my pleasure in touching his skin...There are more handsome men. There are more sensitive men. And there are men who express more interest in me by actually asking me out. And I have this guy floating through my head. I learned a bit more of him yesterday in that he had his toddler nephews solo in his bachelor pad. Now that's not a childproof place and I saw him as more exacting than chill. It brought home that for all I seem to want him (or rather the him I think he is), I don't really know him. Nor does he know me. I wanted to get there but IDK how or if to.
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I probably should be having sex more. Any woman, if she really wants to, can find cock. But okay, here's the thing, I don't want just any cock. There was a time when it didn't matter. Sex was like one of those daily things you just do, like taking your vitamins, getting enough sleep, and eating regular meals. Basic. Simple. IDK when it shifted. And it's not that I want to be in love with who I have sex with; I simply want to know and like him.
I find the thought of putting cock I don't know in my mouth, quite frankly, icky. So much for the party queen. If it was covered, than sure maybe. At the last party I attended where really no one appealed to me, we talked porn we like. He asked me if I would ever blow a bunch of guys in a row on my knees. No darlings, that holds zero appeal to me. One guy or maybe two guys...fucking all night, bi, straight, whatever...that's hot. I'd suck, fuck, talk dirty, maybe dp, share a cock with another guy...all that...and yeah I'd suck two guys if we were friends. Well more than that. I don't want to play with a friend. I don't really want to "play" at all.
I want to get down and dirty. With a man I KNOW, all caps. Really really dirty. I want to call him my fuck toy and take his ass. I want to bind him. I want to blindfold him. I want to make him suckle my breasts til I cum from his mouth. I want him to French kiss my pussy the way he does my mouth. I want him to scream when he cums in me, on me, all over me. I want him to lick his cum from my body and share it with me in a kiss. I want him to grab me by the throat, call me possessive dirty affectionate names with a smile, and thrust his cock hard into me without foreplay. I want him to tie me up and take my ass, slowly carefully, listening to me whimper at his girth. And yeah, as much as I find the exit embarassing, I want him to fill my ass with his cum too. I want to feel the slip of what he fills me with everytime I move. Some days I just want to be possessed.
This was a good day. But truly I don't remember the last time I had an orgasm. And the last few times I've had sex I haven't squirted. It makes me wonder if they've gone away and I'm back to the way I was before I turned 40 when o's were little shivery things rather than the messy visceral, every muscle in my body contracting and letting loose, squirting g-spot o's I'd been blessed with for a bit over a decade. I did try to make up for the dearth of o's in my life prior by fucking a LOT over those squirting years. And I've likely had more than my share.
I do hope they aren't done.
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Straight to oral satisfaction today. Pinot. Petit basque. Flatbread. After dessert first...the last two dark chocolates, a dark coconut haystack and a dark rice crispie turtle. Yeah. That's what I'm talking about.
I cried all morning til I had a meeting and a class. Ex issues, yes. I'm really not a great woman to date given ex baggage, though generally I don't tell many people about his assholery. Except y'all. At least when the boat stops it's rocking and the seas calm, my go to state is all-in and optimistic.
I have a daughter. A brilliant, kind soul. Recognized by all as beautiful inside and out. I adore her and view her with wonder. This week she will turn 15 and truly a mother could not be blessed by more than this glorious girl. She doesn't get it, of course. She attends a highly regarded school that doesn't cost me a dime and she got there on her own efforts. I've never seen anyone more self motivated, competitive but mostly with herself, thoughtful, and collaborative. She rarely asks for anything. Her great pleasure? Chocolate, though milk. The occasional purple cut flower I put in room. And books when she gets the rare opportunity to read for pleasure. And she thanks me for each and every pleasure I send her way, great and small.
Well she asked nearly 3 years ago to attend a camp. On the pricey side, for one who has only managed girl scout daycamp in the past. Literary immersion. Yeah right. A dream come true. She did the research. She found the camp. Last year circumstances intervened and she had to reschedule. This is the final year before she ages out. Now it is her father's responsibility to cover those expenses as he said he would. Three months it's taken to get the deposits. (Why am I writing this down? Because I'm pissed off and it needs to get out of my head). So I write a heartfelt plea to him telling him she asks for nothing, works her ass off, please could she have this as a bday present at least? Mind you he told her she was going all along, but didn't make it possible. Finally today he deposits the funds. Nothing of the settlement is working the way it has been supposed to. Little is truly enforceable in a civil matter.
And yes, this is important to the women who have experienced the same out there. Even though others may be gritting your teeth at my avarice. Keeping it real. Even the nitty gritty bullshit of it.
The camp is full. She's out. I gave up on my ex yesterday and told her I'd find a way. She's going somehow. And I can't make good on my promise. She's working now; finishing an enormous project. I've splurged on artic char tonight, her favorite. I've put a few purple roses in her room. And there are little vanilla/caramel and choc/marshmallow egg petite fours. I don't want to tell her but I must. Well she is #1 on the waiting list. And I did manage to pursuade the guilty divorced dad in the situation to toss her another bone. Still...damn...I need to cut him out of the making things happen part of their lives. I will get there. But it kills me to disappoint. Particularly a child. Particularly this child.
Half a bottle of Pinot down. A tough day. I did spend 4 hours searching for a near equivalent. My cohorts are abandoning me, but it's more like I am not following their course anymore. It's time to break from their follow the crowd mentality and head my own way. I love them. But they are over achievers, unhappy in their lives with little idea of what it takes to run mine. I encourage them. I adore them. But they also annoy the fuck out of me with how they take the lead, do all the work and ask no one else for their participation. Most would love that. But I prefer true collaboration. Hell, I'm switchy afterall. We should all have our chance to lead. And their writing sucks. But they never let me do my thing. And I don't care enough to fight. I did mention they might want to involve the other 3 members of our 5 member team in what they are doing. Inefficient leadership and they'll hate the rest of us for not doing our part but they won't let anyone mess with their vision. I prefer men to women. Too many of us want to control everyone; I don't want to control ANYONE except perhaps short term in my bed if I really, really like you.
Mind you all, I'm well on my way to tipsy, truly exhausted, a bit brain drained, and emotionally out of tears. Empty in a way and I'm filling back up with vino rojo. Not a bad choice. But I pretty much tried to do the Lent thing and not do red wine (also because I was being economical). I'm not catholic at all. And likely wouldn't make a good one as I caved tonight (fog and red wine is just the perfect combo) and I don't feel much guilt. It's funny. We are completely non-sectarian though christain culturally in our celebration of the holidays in a gathering together secular sense. Yet we say grace every evening at dinner. Yeah, what's with that? I believe very strongly in being thankful for what you do have and I know what it is to live with less love, less quality food, and in a far less idyllic town. These children of mine are protected, even with their dad I view as particularly skilled in assholery.
Tomorrow I take my crew on a daytrip as my roadtrip did me good and they have been in one place too long. New environs, peking duck, a little history, much discussion, and home at the day's end...it's time we had a little more fun. Fuck same old...same ole...
Darlings, send me hugs...please...
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I began this journal entry yesterday then couldn't figure out what happened to it. Apparently I sent it as an email to a man who newly reached out to me and was more than gracious at such a reply. I am plagued by sending the wrong text far too frequently. Best this girl slows down. It's not finished, but the words I want to keep. If I don't write things down the thoughts evaporate and I learn from this stuff as well as on occassion titilate you...that too I enjoy..
I met up with supersub today; he's a lovely friend both inside and out. Very handsome, on the high maintenance side, intelligent, professional, and an all around good person. He reminded me of a leather hood he showed me once that somehow I'd forgotten. I would never cover a man's face as to me it's all about watching expression and I want to hear every g, groan and word coming from his sweet mouth. I suppose that's why I'd forgotten such deeply kinky attire. Impressive indeed. We laughed at how both our rather fine collections sit in the back of our closets and rarely have gotten much use. You think you will, but getting to there requires some real time spent together I think. So one night you might pull out this or that. Or other nights you might just converse and fuck. Or hell, converse, fuck and peg him... I don't have a relationship like that. And I end up appreciating the company I do have as the people they are more than the sexual s they would at one time have been for me. Now don't get me wrong; I wouldn't mind some seriously hot sex post getting together but timing matters in a life like mine. I wonder if I can forge the connection I seek with one night a week and alternate weekends to share? Sure I could have someone here when the children are, but that would take a level of connection first that I don't know if my schedule will permit to happen. Though then I think there must be others like me who need their own space or have commitments themselves who might seek what I have to give. TBH...sigh...I do want that man. But that's a story yet to be determined. Talking to my ex, quite civil despite his lack of adherence to the settlement. He'll be driving up to spend most of Easter with the woman he began dating maybe 6 months ago and her daughter. I just don't understand how you get there so quickly. But then I'm way too protective and have much to learn. I think I'm a little stunted when it comes to relationships. I'm really good at non-starts. I did date my ex 10 years before I married him and I still didn't get that right. IDK. As much as I want more, I wonder if I just suck at this stuff. I'm not really all that tactful. I misunderstand lots. And I'm far too literal. Still I decided to bend the rules a little myself with the settlement stuff in the effort of preserving my economic health. There's no real enforcement of civil matter, so holding to the rules doesn't seem to matter. But I'm a natural at rules and I get so pissed off when others don't follow them from etiquette to traffic laws to agreements made. I've a trigger there. And at the same time I hate rules! I just sometimes want life to be easier and more understandable. Truly half the time I have no idea what I'm doing though others seems to think I do. TBH at lunch, talked of my Dominance over men. I have never seen myself as such. Now if someone else doesn't step into the role, I will fill any gap necessary. And that's generally how I end up there or through trying please my partner. It really is a submissive please people approach to dominance. Work in progress.... |
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Last night as I tucked in and starting thinking of all I want to give my children (experiences and adventures), I began to perseverate. A big psychobabble word. It's that circular reasoning pattern some of us are prone to do when we worry about the same thing over and over again and tie ourselves into the knots that aren't the good ones. There was a time horniness could do the same to me. I have a hard time with the feeling of wanting without having, whether it's sex or a particular man or the desire to head for the open road...or all I want to show and share with my family that I'm not sure I can make happen. I lit a long unused candle bedside. Turned off the lights. Tucked into bed. And thought about TBH and how he lives because now I can visualize him there at the house. His pescatorian dinners, oh so healthy. Doing his nightly drumming in his music room with those gorgeous Strativarius of drums he has. And I know exactly how it feels to tuck into that very comfortable bed. There's something to being able to visualize someone like me who likes his life generally, does what he must, lives with his choices, understands loneliness intimately, and tries to make the world a better place in the ways he can impact. And I know in the communications I get here there are more of us. Sometimes all we need is to know we are not alone.
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The BEST conversation today with my girl after her music lesson. We'd gone to pick up tacos since I'm not quite back into real mom who cooks mode yet. A moment in the car when we were chatting about her upcoming birthday. Now I've gotten her very expensive tickets to an event in July but she should have something to open on her day. I asked her if she had any ideas or wanted anything in particular. She said "you know...I prefer experiences over things." OMG...it seems the lesson took. And so an experience I will give her. It took me ages longer to learn to appreciate the same.
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I'm surprised quite often what comes out when I let the words flow and let them sit for awhile before reviewing. Editing is a natural urge for me, but I fight it here. What I think and feel is real and raw and changeable. I think women are sometimes brushed off for our changeablility. But it makes us more exciting and interesting and very very real. Though it's a struggle to stay real and not fit molds of what is proper. It is for me as somewhere buried in the woman of a certain age who is coming to care less for what others think is that very proper young woman and wife I was for longer than I've been this me. It's unfamilar this life I'm building now. It's certainly not boring. But sometime I feel as if I don't quite know how I got here. But I like it here.
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My weekend. Now here's the odd thing. I spent it at TBH's home for the first time without TBH. There's an event in his town I adore replete with all the oysters you can eat, a small fire on the beach, live music dockside, and this year serene electric boatrides. Completely chill. It sells out so it can only get so crowded before they close it to more people. Not too big, not too small...it's just right...like baby bear's bed. Did I feel awkward solo'ing it? In line maybe. But once in, nope. Plenty of room for a single to fill an extra space on the boat or slide in to the crowd on the dock to eat oysters and drink a stormy from the rail. No one to keep track of. Plenty of folks to talk to or people watch. Toothless baby grins. Great little live band. Make jokes with the guy in the kilt or the folks wearing the sports team shirts from my hometown. It's the best of Americana, as long as you're not squeamish about eating oysta's. Buttery lobster roll went down pretty smooth too. S...I had two because no body's watching and I didn't have to share even a piece of lobster meat with anyone else.
I'm smart enough to know I was in no condition to drive and left a little early for a very long meandering walk into town, over the bridge, watching the kids of the sailing school sail in. I promised myself some good green oolong tea. You'd think darjeeling is the champagne of teas, but nope. I know tea and am a purist. Flavored teas I only ice. I want pure leaf, whole leaf, no additives. But it's a luxury. A quarter pound of oolong you can reinfuse up to 4 times a pot goes a long way. I found two varieties as I did last time I was in town at two shops and stocked up. I couldn't wait and last night started journaling to a pot of the good stuff but lost the post.
Dining out Saturday night solo was really the only truly awkward time. I tried to beat the dinner hour but I crave this place's guac and tapas from two states away, probably my fav meal bar none. At first my host said he had no tables. I shrugged and smiled with a "I had to try; I miss your guac...". He told me to hold on a minute and settled me into a table, holding my chair and helping me off with my jacket. Latin men...sigh...And so feasted on said guac, some sauteed veges including my fav hearts of palm, and a couple of tiny spicy lamb chops. Out in an hour and except for a wrong turn, back in TBH's pad with a cup of tea.
It's a cool place. Not unlike mine in that it has some character and serenity and very little was bought from a new furniture store. Ecletic but mid century modern vibe, definitely a hipster/Mad Men groove. He had these restored German tube radios, stunning, that I listened to as his house is, like here, too quiet for me. And the studio space downstairs...I played on his fancy drums...gently. I've never seen him play. I thought I'd done all I wanted to with him and then I find something else. I can't tell you if this is a friendship or a romance, though we've fucked. I feel closer as friends, though of course on several levels I want him. But I'm a cautious sort. And we'll see.
I am so so happy to finally verifiably KNOW the man is not married. I didn't get fooled again (at least not on that account). I was growing concerned because the last man I was deeply involved with turned out to be married and it took me 9 months to figure it out. I don't know if having put another woman in the role I'd been placed in was the worst part or feeling so damn stupid. The problem then was that I was in so deep I couldn't walk away and spent nearly 4 years total in a relationship with a man I felt was my soulmate but who I didn't really like. I would find out about all the women he was talking too while supposedly my guy, leaving his wife (younger and the 2nd one). I had lunch with one of the other women he fucked. And then one Christmas there was an STD scare that fortunately turned out to be just that, a scare. In many ways that man who claimed he loved me treated me worse than the husband I had who may have never loved me. Whoa...deep stuff today.
My point is that cheating is a flashpoint with me. I've been the wife who found out about the affair with his secretary, installed as a mistress a few houses away. I've survived my marriage imploding at the time, with a 5 month old, 2 yr old, and 4 yr old. And I still told the man to leave. I'm prouder than I am smart initially. But the next day I moved all the money out of our joint accounts for safekeeping and was in an attorney's office with a box of tissues and my baby. There was no simple solution and I' spent over a decade recovering from that and rebuilding the team I thought I had into a team I do have. But a lot of things had to come together to get to now.
I'm not just a woman who doesn't trust men. I start off cautiously optimistic. I am a pollyanna. I always want to believe the best of people. But I have a pretty accurate bullshit meter these days. And an analytical mind. The single greatest thing I've learned is to listen to my own instincts when before all I did was doubt my own perceptions. So it didn't make sense for him to be married. But I hadn't been to his place, so that quiet voice in my head would clamor in weaker moments. I am so happy this guy is not married and I can put at least that doubt to rest. It is such a load off my shoulders that I feel lighter. I think he trusts me more than I trusted him, but he does know I'll give him transparency even if it's something he doesn't want to hear. I just don't like when I hurt him.
OMG, I'm so glad he's not married. So that is that.
We met, TBH and I, partway, he coming from the East and I from the West. I found a place on the water for lunch. I wasn't going to. He had said he might show up Saturday evening as he had an event he had set up and might drive down late to crawl into bed with me. I was afraid I'd sock him if he did disturb my sleep that way, so I woke up here and there a bit restless. I knew if I did meet him on my return trip I'd be late getting back to ex and family. But then I figured hell, fuck it. They appreciate me more when I'm not here. I asked the ex to pick up dinner for the children and showed up two hours late with groceries for Monday's lunches. I spent some quality time with each child. And it's true; they were kind and more appreciative. Even my youngest beast left me a thank you note.
And TBH? He was a little dishelved, but I prefer him that way. Great grin. Waterside table watching the ducks dive and talking of his place, exhibitionism, retirement notions, people, music, loons, modern furniture, craigslist...and when he said next time I come he'll be there, I replied "oh, that's going to be so odd with you THERE." He laughed uproariously. I left him presents, including the envelope of pop rocks he was going to get a pop rock bj with...hey, you snooze you lose. He said he'd save them. Then that he'd probably figure out a way to masturbate with them to my reply of "that's what I figured." His reply? "Shut up." Ha! I like our banter. Sure conversation is foreplay even without the o.
I'm glad I did it. There were moments when I was just 10 minutes from his house when I wanted to turn around. One foot in front of the other...And coming home feels really really good.
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Welllll....I'm tucked in at TBH's bachelor pad. And quite a pad it is. Very serene. Mid century modern which has never been my think in th past. BUT...There's art and simplicity and something about the wood that seems more alive than other furniture. IDK I think I interact with it differently. It's been a long time since I've been immersed in design. I lived in a world of creative madness, economic feast or famine. My ex is rather emminent in his industry and design is what he lives. I did too for a very long time until I began to hate the work as if it were my enemy. But there are times I crave art as it feeds my soul. I think the visual element occupies my brain in ways that allow it to rest, much like I'll shop without buying things at a place like Home Goods when I'm blue as the visual overstimulus balances me. This is cool in a MOMA sense. But I get to touch stuff. I like that.
I find it fascinating that TBH walks around nude mostly at home and there are very few window treatments. Must be an interesting show some evenings.
I was a bit nervous coming here. Solo. Talking with a friend the other day, I mentioned how intimidated I often am. She replied "you could fool me." I'm finding some continuting ed we are doing together a bit more than I bargained for, I skipped the usual sequence and started more advanced. I think pretty much everyone else in the room knows more than I do. Like always I just do it. As I did this evening, hoping it would work and with a backup idea if necessary. Not necessary. This is lovely. I do live outside of my comfort zone. I don't know it this makes sense. But I'm comfortable with the idea that I will still be intimidated. I've become accustomed to my own discomfort. Odd. But it's by stepping outside of that zone (and at times admitting it) that I'm hear.
I grin and play loud music when I drive, drive, drive...Tonight I was fortunate enough to watch the sun set as I crossed the Bay Bridge. Glorious. And my grip wasn't white knuckled like it was the first time.
As much as I gripe here, I really am a pretty chill person. This place is is even more so; And I admit a house where there are books here and there is a place I appreciate. I brought work and maybe I'll do some, but I like just breathing it in. It's very different. And I see such things. Funny thing is I'm glad I got to experience it solo first. Looking forward to morning.
It's a funny thing, TBH and I...But this being here is a gift.
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I am by nature a pessimist. But I've tried very hard to reverse such tendencies. Hence trying to manage expectations as, more often than not, it results in disappointment. Now I'm accustomed to folks who dipoint in my own extended family and the ex's. Relationship-wise, well, who doesn't experience ups and downs there? But some folks level of assholery is beyond comprehension even given the sh#& I have seen. I've mentioned the man who was seeking an apartment in NJ so we could be together at the same time he was selling his house in CT and moving to NC with another woman? That, in many ways, exceeded decades of my former husband's irresponsibility. But then my ex is able to seem innocent of intent as passive aggressives do. "I would if I could...". "It's not intentional." "I forgot." I'm not the only one who has been there.
Now I was the most patient of women. Too much so. Now, nada. Now I'm a "let's do it" sort of girl. And yes, "I want it NOW" like that awful child in the original Willy Wonka movie. I am a grown up but time is that one resource as I age that I do not want to waste missing even a moment of joy.
A friend here gave me his assessment of TBH and why he felt the man was not right for me all along. Now this post is not solely about TBH as he has behaved unexpectedly well when I expected him to choke again. But I think some of my attitudes toward him and others are related and the words go where they will. My co-collarspace friend wrote:
TBH always seemed about himself first and rarely thoughtful of me or extending himself beyond arms length. There's I'd have to agree with a few instances where he did extend himself and created some remarkable moments. I've probably led more. And arms length resonates.
My friend went on to say that "he seems very much older than you in spirit not just age wise. You're open to new adventures and new things; he seems set in his ways. You seem to be 50 going on 37, he seems to be 63 going on 64." Now that's very flattering to me and I can't say it didn't make me grin. Age though is a confusing thing. I've seen those who are 38 and seem 60. And I, well, this is just my normal for me at 52. Men though I think have it tough. They plod on no matter what most times without anyone expressing appreciation for what they do. And if you are solo and live alone, well, who is going to say thank you? Who will notice their efforts? Because male or female alike, we all bask in the glow of acknowledgement for our efforts.
He also thought it was not a good idea to have sex with him so quickly. And though that is in general a very good approach, I'm impatient. And we had flirted for too long with our words and calls. I'm just as bad with dark chocolate. I won't eat it all at a sitting. But...I need to taste. And so it was with TBH. But my desires ruled me for so long. That and my need to escape. I need less to escape now but more to connect. So I expect that accounts for my recent distaste of sex with someone I don't know very well. But then I appreciate conversation and manners and acknowledgement of who I am rather than just being a collection of holes to fuck. No thank you.
I spoke with TBH after meeting a deadline today that had my process stressing me out. I have a lengthy process to synthesize and pull information together in a new way. To identify what works and what doesn't and how to address the gaps. The end product is usually different than what others paraphrase back and there are a few words that the reader might need to look up and ask me what source I used. Um..that would be me...see the plagiarization count of 2%...it's my work. The errors I make a stupid stylist ones; I need my own editor. But I like saying, okay, we've got this and this and this...but it raises the question of ...?I like to make folks think. And hell, I can't help but think.
We did good today. Dug out. It's beautiful. A few broken branches from the snow. And as we shoveled the tree's started to let loose the snow covering them. Much to laugh about as my hatted head got dumped on again and again and I'd blame a kiddo. They dug out the elderly woman next door. I consider it all a good start to the day. And some of my children remain home with a snow day. That is the part I LOVE particularly as my deadline is met.
TBH called to give me instructions and to tell me he told his neighbors I am coming so they won't call the police. Pessimist me expected him to rescind the invite. But then I'll tell you a secret...most of the time I don't expect him to show up...and then most of the time he does. I fight expecting the worst all the time. I've read the law of attraction of course with a grain of salt, but I'll try anything to think positive and be positive. I always have something to work on or words to get down so taking a jaunt anywhere is usually with ipad in my bag and I am never bored. That is a word that fills me with dread. "Bored." I get an email that "I was bored, so I thought I'd email you.." and that goes in the bin immediately. I am never bored. There are times when I'm lonely. Times when I'm blue. And times when I feel overwhelmed and that everyone else in the room is smarter than I am. But there's a blessing in never being bored.
So tomorrow I head off on an adventure. To most it wouldn't seem like an adventure like climbing Kilamanjaro or white water rafting or sky diving is. But to me adventure awaits if I just go find it. And so I will. I need this.
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A solo night accompanied by the sound of sleet/hail. I didn't feel dread or lonely or any of those pangs I usually get. Tomorrow will be a snow day times all my children. I love snow days as do they. Mind you I'll have to work from here but I work better in a busy house than a quiet one. My Hemmingway table where I write most is set up smack dab in the middle of the busiest thoroughfare in the house but that works for me. I think I like to appear smart and important typing away as if what I have to say were crucial to anyone but myself.
I spent two nights sleeping well with a muscle relaxant as I fucked up my right upper trap, but I'm finding the sleepy hangover of the next day counter productive. Tonight will be just me. No meds, no alcohol (though of course I don't take ANY meds if I've had a drink). Oddly as I headed to the local fancy grocery store this evening, hoping for something prepared and craving some meat, my eldest son waved from my old Jeep the ex kept as a second car. Inside I found my youngest son who wants nothing more than to be with his dad who has no budget and only says yes, and shop. The ex's comment, "what are you doing here; I didn't think you could afford to shop here." Yeah...and I married the ass. I just grinned and showed my son a few more pricey items to add to daddy's basket and moved on.
I am finding myself easing a bit in the worry dept. It takes a proactive and dramatic approach to keep the flow of resources up. And I thought I was done with such things from the past. But I can play a role if it means I can provide more for my children and be less of a furrowed brow naysayer.
I am also easing in what I want. I am going to take a break from dating the way I have in the past and focus on friendships. I find the notion of a stranger's parts touching mine turn me off. At the last party I attended I tried to remain nice in my no's. Guys generally want their cock's sucked more than anything else. Now there've been cocks that all I wanted was to taste and practice incessantly until I could take them throat deep. And some men have exquisite cocks. But ugh...if I don't know you, like you, want you, feel something for you...keep it in your pants. I received a message with the codicil,
"Married but very available." Seriously? Go the fuck away. If you aren't brave enough to leave an unhappy situation then you sure aren't courageous enough for me. I like people, men and women, who have made hard choices and come through the other side. Yes, like me. I like grit. Determination. Will. And the ability to laugh it all off.
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I really can be a bit of a beyotch sometimes. I parent others in a sense. I believe in consequences for actions and that we learn from them. So when someone like my ex fucks up big, I create consequences or enforce them when possible. The goal of course, as with children, is to discourage a repeat of the dysfunctional behavior.
I try not to do such in relationships, but I do. Not entirely consciously. But if someone is respectful and attentive and kind, I am impressed and of course do the same. But I try to be all three all the time to everyone. But treat me with what I perceive as disrespect, and ouch! I really react. I try not to. But my claws come out. Hence a 24 hour rule.
I did use that this weekend though this post is not about my interaction with TBH but rather my ex. I really thought ex would mean I wouldn't have to have much of the conversations I still must with him. IDK if I would date me. "Baggage" seems to apply in terms of an ex still around sort of. Even though it's to pick up the kiddos. But if he just did what he contracted to do the baggage that is him would be gone. I don't want to act as his collection agent or moral voice. I want to never talk to him again. But here I am.
Some men call kids "baggage." Whenever I see a guy who says "no baggage" in his ads I go right by. OR no drama. As if there's an assumption there will be. I generally begin and remain expecting it to be good and fun for us both. That we'll talk to each other, make each other smile, and find time to share. That when mutual baggage intervenes...from caring for children to aging parents, to work stressors, to whatever...you are a friend free of judgement and supportive above all. I don't really get why some treat romantic interests so different than they would a friend. I don't. Well except there are extra things we do...like maybe rope and fucking and dirty talk. But at core you just LIKE and respect this person.
But the thing I often don't get is that there's often a gap. You adore this person but you don't always communicate you want to spend time with them. I think many of us are planning adverse. But really this I don't quite get. Lives are busy yes. But anyone who is busy knows if you want it you make time.
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Watching a couple on a first "meet" at Dunkin. Not a place I'd choose for any degree of private conversation. She's grinning and talking a mile a minute...makeup perfect..a little too much eye contact as I havent seen her look away from him once. Him. Well he shaved and his hoodie looks clean. But he is shifting in his seat, leaning like he's ready to get out of the booth. And now he's talking flea markets...I hate flea markets. Equally so Walmart. Call me a snob but I prefer less quantity of quality goods and I cannot bear the way Walmart smells. There's a chemical almost plastic odor of cheap clothing and whatever they spray on them. And I'd rather they gave their employees benes over hiring greeters at the door.
I wonder if I look the same way when I meet someone. Though usually I do my own thing. Get a drink, talk to a woman my age at the bar, greet him when he shows up and let him get his own drink or buy him one myself. I do spend time grooming. My uniform is dark wash jeans, motorcycle boots, and whatever shirt feels good that night. I can't remember the last time I wore a dress and heels. But then there's a casual vibe here. But casual to some doesnt really equal what is casual to me. But then I dont want to feel under or over dressed anywhere. I rarely wear anything athetic out unless its to the gym. Or to drop a child at school as long as I am not getting out of the car. But then I'm a prude.
Really I like rules. I appreciate etiquette. I had a man text me about a friend of his who complains all women are messed up and he puts in only minimal effort to try to get laid. The guy texting me assured me, not him, he knows how to treat a woman properly. But here's the thing. He sounds like courtesy and respect is rather like putting on dress clothes or what we used to call "company manners.". To me, courtesy and respect is innate and applies all the time to all people. Otherwise it's artifice to seal the deal. Though it is really really fun to break protocol with people you know who know your intent and heart. My man holding my chair and leaning down to whisper how much he wants to be inside of me before we dine out is simply a glorious thing.
The Dunkin couple...of course he had to say he's Irish as everyone is here. Now they're fascinated by the tv weather as the weekly nor'easter is bound to hit tomorrow. He's not so attractive. She's prettier but approaching the age of invisibility like me. Pretty, blonde, thicker and she's thinking, okay well he's a guys guy...that can be fun. Why isn't he leading? Why am I the one keeping this conversation going? And her eyes are beginning to glaze over....I should write more than date. And I'm headed that way as the dance of it feels stifling anymore. If only I could go lesbian...but I dream of cock.
The good thing of being by oneself is you can do whatever you want to do. Ice cream for dinner. Samosas at midnight. Nap midday. Write incessantly. Work your way through seasons of Borgia. Watch the Christmas bad moms movie in spring. Anything. there's something to be said for freedom even if accompanied by pangs of loneliness.
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I'm grateful the worst of the emotion has dissipated. I was called on this evening by someone far more intelligent than I to edit, my particular skill. Reduce writing by half. Tighten prose. I didn't think it could be done; but it was.
Brunch today. He thought of it as a date. I moved to brunch instead of dinner to keep on a friends basis rather than romantic. The track pants guy went shopping. I do so appreciate a man who makes an effort. New shoes, khakis and shirt. He cleaned up very well. And every man should have proper attire. I do like the guy and we can talk forever. He embraces the new and is kind and real. I bought today too. When I don't let a guy pay for an outing it's my signal that this is friendly, just like the girls and I do. We take turns. I know, I know...y'all think we're after your money and selfish. We aren't you know. But fiscal security on both our parts, particularly at this age, can be a deal breaker. I suppose at present my financial health could make me less appealing there. But that's changing. Much networking this weekend. But I am grateful for a day out and an afternoon in Asbury Park.
TBH...I accepted his offer and will stay at his place without him. Which was a possibility we discussed a week ago so I'm not sure quite what was going on with him. My small adventures do not need to be with someone else, particularly since there's always some form of research or work for me to do that I do better on the road. Is it better with a companion? Depends on the companion. But there will be plenty of us women of a certain age and we are kind to each other. I jumped through quite a lot more hoops than most can imagine to arrange another solo weekend in a row, unheard of with my schedule. This is what I need.
I think sexually I may be locked up. I think I had sex once in February and once in March. Neither time did I squirt, nor did I have a proper orgasm. I get horny. But dating...ugh...I think it's time I stopped. Focus on other things. The weather will cooperate soon. I can begin paddling in the pond. I can bike with the sun on my face. I'll take more classes. And I'll begin to do what I'm meant to do. And get paid seriously well for it. I'm just not quite ready to settle yet. There are things I am passionate about and I don't want anything to kill that. It's the best part of me I think. Others may find me too impatient to DO things. To want. To SEEK. But I recognize time my fitness level and ability to perform what I currently can mentally as changeable. Now is now. And I'm not waiting for anyone. How many 50 plus year olds are all in? Well there's me. Now to find someone else who shares that attitude.
I was feeling lacking in support a bit. But I do have family I chose rather than whose blood I share. In a few weeks my children and will return to the the sister I chose who has love my children since they were we babes and she took care of them. My own sister can't even return a text. I just won't be the only one who makes the effort anymore. I thought of changing my number to let others fall by the wayside who don't stay in touch. Since I moved too. But I'm not quite there yet. I get like that periodically. I purge people whose names make me shake my head at what happened to them. And certainly I leave plenty of folks behind if they become toxic. If only that could occur with the ex. I'm trying to find a way to do that in my head.
Tonight I'll take that muscle relaxant I wouldn't with last nights Irish coffee. Remember the same darlings about cold medicine. Alcohol and other things that make you sleepy are a recipe to stop your heart. I discovered Friday my ex had let the health insurance lapse. Now mind you this was at the pharmacy where I went to pick up my son's monthly medication. It's happened before. Though it shouldn't at all.
When one man doesn't do what he says he'll do. Then another man flakes on me. And others want more than they give...add it all up and it gets to me. It's utterly crazy making. And I refuse to go there anymore. I'll cry for a day or more. And I'll rant through my keyboard. Heavens, the muscle relaxant works fast. Still pain but it's early. I think I will actually sleep tonight.
Be well
Pen |
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Yes, I'm in a fuck you mood. I'll stay away from those who piss me off until I cool down.
I have this coping mechanism about negative energy. Extreme emotion that burns. Or anger at injustice. Or hell, feeling like a damn idiot. But you know, I'm trying to not tread water in one place. I'm trying to move forward and develop my social support systems. And I'm trying to not let my bruised and patched up heart stop trying for more than just me in a haven caring for me and mine. Now that's a lot right there. But I see my teens who don't date, who have no desire for a relationship themselves. Maybe their father's incredible drama got to them with his former gf whom the children called Voldemort. But so too have I had relationships that fit into the time I had outside of them. So they've never really seen one that worked. Or why to pursue one. Though I expect at some point hormones will drive them more in that direction. But they have had no model in how to go about such a thing.
So for them and for me I want connection. To have others meet and share time. For them to see shades of affection, kindnesses, and love. And the elements of an abiding friendship.
Channeling negative energy. I use it for good. Got my ass out of here and out of wallowing. I did get lost trying to find a yacht club I was to meet a friend at, but roads closed and bridges out defeated me. I called though. I do that. Follow through. Do what I can to keep my word even when I'm overwhelmed and it's really really tough to do. And if the unforeseen happens, well, then I call and talk and create a new opportunity to meet. I eventually ended up at a Starbucks but didn't eat most of the day. Feeding emotion makes it hotter. I was trying to starve it into submission. Paid a handsome male for a deep tissue massage (that's all it was folks). I think that might be the better venue for me with males at present. Keep it all business. Though I have brunch tomorrow with a kind soul who gets my struggles more than most.
My cohorts reached out. Actually I reached out which is mostly unheard of. But they responded with support as we always do for each other. They know but forget that my family consists of myself and my family. There's isn't Gran's kitchen to retreat to when the world gets rough; she'd make me a cuppa tea and I'd fill her cup of Sanka to the brim. Then we'd play Rum until my mind cleared. And she's be on my team. I still remember her wanting my ex to show up at her door so she, 80 at the time, could punch him out. I wish she could punch a few folks out right now.
I did make my own Irish coffee this eve though I don't keep coffee in the house. I did have a good talk at the nearest Dunkin, open 24 hrs, so perhaps if I'm an insomniac I'll head there. TBH did backpedal and reinvite me to use his place, but I still don't want to interact with him though supersub says to say yes. I don't know that I want to open that door again. He's flakey. And I don't think really interested in me other than he feels guilty for being an ass to a generally good person who has treated him rather well. But he's always been pretty much a last minute non commital kind of guy. It's never been charming though I get it. And the days of "I'll make myself available" disappeared. I'm not here to persuade someone to want me. Others do. The problem is I wanted him. And wanted him. And kept wanting him. I don't even know why. That he seemed like a good and honorable guy; moreso than others. But then that's what I thought about my ex when I met him. And he too flaked on me more than I can say. I feel as if I'm repeating the same. Maybe that's why it feels right often. It's familiar in a messed up way. Like coming home to hell. That's dramatic. But y'all know what I mean.
I don't want to feel this way any more. That much I know. And I don't want to be the one who tries. Or cajoles. Or is happy just by knowng I made him smile. I'm such a sap. But I'll pull an O'hara and tomorrow is new day.
Pen |
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There are too many folks (I'm thinking MEN, but I know better than to generalize a whole population) who are just plain MEAN. Now I know we are all self serving to an extent but being kind to to others isn't really so hard. I've begun to wonder if I'm an asshole magnet. Now I know I'm a sensitive woman at heart, much as I've tried to toughen that thin skin. But truly some of the things that come my way...well, I don't think it would matter how thick your skin is. I'm trying to look at the latest as a hiccup when really I'm kind of fucked. If I just did my own thing without calling on a friendship I thought was deep and reciprocal, I wouldn't be stuck trying to find a way to make happen a jaunt I'd looked forward to and just plain need. Definitely feeling like an asshole magnet. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way, men and women alike. And heaven knows, passive aggression is insidious that way. You think you're both being cool and real even when there's a sense of unease at the base. In my case I put that sense of this-is-great-and-fun-and-what-a-good-person-he-is ahead of my personal uncertainties (thinking it's just that lack of confidence that plagues me now and again). I feel angry and sad and stupid. And that's the worst of it, feeling like I'm a moron by misjudging someone again. I'm very hard on myself for that. Because after all I should know better. Y'all know I've been plagued with blues these past weeks. Primarly because something was represented to me one way and turned out completely different. I plan, I live, I try hard with the limits I have to find my adventures and to feel my soul. It's not easy with external stressors such as financial uncertainties, however temporary. Now I don't expect anyone to pay MY way, though it may seem so being the recipient of alimony and child support. However, I did spend the time of my separation going back to school to a new and extremely challenging but very stable field. True I'm not working in it yet, but my cohorts are and I'm trying to find the right place in a flawed system so I can do a job with people at the center. Rather how I try to live. I'm trying hard to type as I cry since compartmentalizing and intellectualizing what I feel can mitigate the pain temporarily. Man, that sounds so smart and rational. I feel anything but that. I want and I try to surround myself with people who are good for me and I think generally I am good for them (at least I try to be). When I think I'm not going to be good for someone or will hurt them, I do the hard thing. I tell them this is not going to work. Earlier rather than later. I wish I could use people for company sometimes as I'm lonely most of the time. I'm not entirely without charm. Some men do get attached to me and if I know I won't feel what they do, I am honest about it even though it involves hurting someone which is the last thing I want to do. I know what it is to be strung along and I refuse to do it to someone. I meet more folks I'd prefer to be friends with over lovers. Most. But then I think I've changed. I'm certainly not driven by my sexuality as I used to be. Heavens, all I wanted to do was fuck. Now I'd prefer conversation. Though that interview'y first meet we must do to get there grates. But I also want to share activities with like-minded people. I have to say that was the stellar part about spending time with TBH. I had the most fun and was stretched in ways no one else could quite get me to do. The banter was fun. And he educated me politically and otherwise to think in new ways. That's a gift I'll miss. In other ways it didn't work. And I need to write them down to remind me of why this is good it's done. A 63 yr old never married no kids man raises a flag right away, even when you try hard not to generalize. I'm sorry you bachelors; usually I find you very appealing. I've dated more never married men than otherwise. But you know there's that question we think even though we don't ask "what's wrong with him?" So alright, usually either a commitment-phobia or social unease is a factor. Commitmentphobes were cool for me as I'd begun to lean that way when it took me so long to get out of my marriage; not a place I want to go back to. I say now I'll never marry again but people change and I hope I will continue to grow. Social unease...I find that a bit charming but then I'm apt to give introverts more leeway being one myself. And having worked with children on the autism spectrum...well...what is lost in smooth social transitions is gained in purity of spirit. I like people who are who they are. Something I try to be myself when my go to is to be whomever they need me to be. But like others who at one time lived in homes of excess drama and at times abuse, I learned to be who my caregivers wanted me to be to avoid wrath. And to keep a low quiet profile. I fight now to have my voice heard; nobody's putting baby in a corner again. There is power in words. I can sometimes influence. Make you laugh. Forge connection. But I often feel I'm better at typing words on a screen than the reality of friendships and relationships. I keep my distance from most. So those I trust I value deeply. And the loss of trust when it comes so hard to me has me crying. Now y'all know excess emotion leaks from my eyes often enough, but these tears are different. I feel like my insides are weeping along with the tears that roll down my face. And my interior voice begins and insistent what-to-do, what-to-do and telling me to find a way to stop. To stop crying. To stop feeling. To stop caring so much. To stop thinking things like I'm an asshole magnet that serves no purpose except making me feel like this is always going to happen with those who get under my skin. I've had pain for three days in my shoulder than I can't release. I did go to a party last evening (more about that later) and Franco tried to massage it out. The heat of bodies (clothed!) on either side of me as we talked on the couch was soothing. And attention used to be an ego boost. But quite frankly the attention of people who don't know me and don't really see me doesn't really balance the perceived rejection of someone I'm fond of who does know me inside and out. And that is inevitably the part that damages me. Those I've been closest to just go away. Or I disappear on them before they can do the same to me. Who's the fucked up one here? I don't really know myself. Pen |
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As much as I find cocks fascinating, and on occassion truly beautiful, sending a woman a cock shot before she's seen your smile can be self-defeating gentlemen. Now I'm not one of those women who get sent a dick pic and say ick. Ha! I'll think an initial yum though I admit to preferring circumsized. But then, being a bit of size queen, I'll note hmmmm...look at the close angle of the shot; it's not as big as he's trying to make it. Or hmmm...he's 6'1" so that looks about...And no, I don't really want to know the measurement. I'm apt to look at the body clinically. No judgement, just observation. And I find men with scars fascinating; reminds me of a pirate. After Johnny Depp what woman wouldn't want to fuck a pirate? Theoretically of course.
I'd suggest y'all start out with a smile when you're looking for a personal interaction. And even if you're just looking to fuck, well boys, that's pretty damn personal even if that's all it is. I talk of sex with connection. But I think I'm seeking connection with sex. It's a little old fashioned. Though women have been taught for eons that sex is just something you get through. Bah humbug. Sex is glorious. And this from a woman who didn't know what an o was for a good quarter century. I was married to a man whose idea of foreplay was "so you feeling charitable tonight?" I cried after sex with the man. I think I got to just before orgasm and he'd be done and gone. This in a modern era. Though we did married before the days of internet; hopefully he's learned better since.
Still I always craved sex. IDK what it is about penetration. It's the way we are built. They way we're meant to function. Simple. I get more pleasure from penetrative fucking than oral. Often I'd prefer just to get to the fucking, but that's my impatient nature as if a man doesn't go down on me I find him selfish. Contrary puss, I know. But honestly boys, it's not all that easy to give a blowjob especially given the proportions of my fav cock and my small mouth. I'd love to deep throat but can't achieve it all that often unless I get to practice often. Well if I'm putting yours in my mouth, darling, you sure should be kissing mine like you're trying to seduce me. Fair play darlings. And men, please please TRIM. I absolutely hate dealing with hairy balls or a cock that is covered with hair at it's base. There is nothing more delicious than shaved balls. OMG I could play with them, suck them, for hours. You know what the first thought I have when I see a man's groin looking like an overgrown garden? He's married. And of course, I'm not putting that in my mouth. And yes, I groom. And yes, it's a delicate process and a PITA to do but the increased sensitivity is delicious.
I started this all by telling you not to send cock pics. And I'm not saying quite that. Just behave nicely first. A grin, a how to do, followed by do you want to see at minimum if you're on a site looking for sex of a more scratch-that-itch nature. And an intro. Yes, you really should tell a woman you want to fuck your name. Far better she yell, "yes Fred!" Over "fuck me harder xyzfuckmachine."
I want to tie someone up. But I'm avoiding work. Back to it. Enjoy your day darlings.
Pen
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We began a conversation last night, TBH & I. We texted first and I confess I really don't understand man speak well. I take things completely the wrong way, get snarky, and just want to quit and say FU. Blessedly I didn't. Many thanks to supersub for helping me to see my views can be completely off base to a male perspective. We are often ahead of the conversation as females, being so relational in our interactions. Whereas males are so often on a completely different page. That whole mars/venus bs that is seeming less like bs and more valid. It doesn't really help me though; I simply haven't learned the language of guy speak all that well.
We ARE snarky to each other and enjoy it. I began with "you're such a PITA." And he responded that I am impatient. I blustered a bit but then admitted yes, I sure am. I don't think he had any idea how much I love this little event I want to attend. I'll go with or without him. Though of course it would be much better with. Perhaps part of it is that last year the same time I tied him up before I'd let him truly meet me. It's a hell of a first date. And he needed some tequila to fortify himself. The notion of pushing him sexually has occured to me again. But we'll see. In the end we had some resolution. I feel better though today was sad and weird, completely unrelated.
I just find my life on the other side of the divorce seems to be stepping backwards. Or well, not progressing as I thought. Much of that was due to my desire to just tread water in a safe place for once. But stagnancy is never good for long. Still I got some ex mail the other day from the IRS. One year's tax bill for nearly $80K...and I thought, hell, I could be HIM. But I'm not. And I'm protected. I just want more. I want to thrive and live with all cylinders firing. But I find myself waiting and watching far too much and that's not really me.
I AM impatient. I know how life can change on a dime. And I want to live fully now. To grab every opportunity for joy, and yes, adventure. This endgame here was misrepresented to me by the attorney I'm still paying for. And the legal system is rather bullshit when it comes to enforcement of civil matters. Unless you're a government entity. And even then...
Well, one foot in front of the other...
Pen |
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A GOOD day. I need to leave more. I think I'm a wanderer in my blood as much as I seek security. We all need a home base to come back to. Perhaps my paternal grandmother's gypsy heritage. I remember her reading the tarot cards that had been in the family for so many generations they were round; all the corners had worn off. They were scary when I was young; but now I'd enjoy a reading though I'm a skeptic about most things...
I bowled. Badly. But with grace and humor. My date of a few weeks ago paid me a lovely compliment. He said that I am fully there in the moment wherever I am. Not that he knows me that well, but it was a good long timeless conversation. But we share a profession so there are stories to tell. And he said I am all in. I want to be. I am comitted to what I decide to do. But there's fear when you commit that much. Fuck it though. I'd rather live my truth even when it gets hard than pretend.
I've found a lovely air bnb with an artist I may induge in as there's an annual pilgrimmage I'm determined to make, company or no. It's affordable. TBH is his famously non committal self. I didn't realize it until Supersub told me wow, he's even more non-commital than him! I prefer spontaneity myself. But more so I prefer value and I need to look forward to something. Therein lies my motivation. Last year TBH showed up late ticketless and couldn't get in until someone took pity on him. I had a blast before and after he arrived. Just good people. And lots of women of a certain age like myself. I may stay in a twin bed in an attic to do it; but I'm going. Time to stop dwelling so much on my own interior and take to the road. It'll all be here for me to come back to, but about 4 months in one place is all I can take without leaving for a couple days. Even here at the haven. When I come back it will go from cage to haven again.
It's a terrible thing when a man can't text an answer I think simple. I think it's the same feeling men get when a woman says "we need to talk." Double ugh. And then of course he won't call when he says. I care of course as it's way more fun with him. But on some level I don't care to have anything be fraught. Yes or no. It doesn't change my plans; I'm going solo or not. But I do have to make arrangements. I have a feeling he will be one like the professor who has begun dating someone else and didn't see fit to tell me earlier rather than later. Best to know than to wonder even it I'm going to be sadder. And darlings, you know the last thing I need to be is sadder. I'm trying hard to shake it.
Pen |
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An early Saturday morning at the Jersey classic, Mastoris, on the other side of the state from my home. I was going back to classic fav in Princeton for a smoked salmon and goat cheese omelette but I'm not in the mood for the pontificating and self important patrons. Of course here it's down to earth, Trump politics and most carrying a few extra pounds. And here they call me "Miss" instead of "Ma'am." This is how I grew up, though not necessarily reflective of all of me now...it still feels like home and today I need to be with more people like my family. No way I can live that way for long but I do miss the sounds of home. There's a Western PA accent that is just awful, but it makes me feel warm as much as it makes me cringe. I lost mine, but it was hard work.
A beautiful dinner for my children last evening. Rather a Sunday roast on a Friday night. I'm doing all sorts of new cuts of meat that I find on sale though I miss buying that whole Char. I'm such a spoiled brat. But I didn't start out that way. I just really really don't want to go backwards. All I really want is what I've always wanted...to feel safe. I make others feel that way, so it's close. But I never quite get there myself.
Well this Saturday breakfast beats last weeks with my date from Mars. Gentlemen, you're going to want to spank for this...but there's a reason some men are divorced...though I've ended up dating and enjoying more never married no children men than any other demographic. They're generally easier, more fun, settled (well the ones I like are), and come to a point where they miss companionship. You've got to actually want someone before you get out there.
I'm done with the traditional dating site by this month's end. I won't re-up. I'd thought of going back on a sex site for awhile. But it's so transactional in nature. No, I don't mean money sillies. I have no problem with fucking as the ultimate goal and a lot of it. Reminder boys: fucking is a social act. And the more social you can make it, the further you can go...something all you kinksters seek. So sitting across from dinner, having a few drinks, it's all foreplay loves. And think of the dichotomy of this mannerly couple, tossing civility to the wind as their clothes fall. THAT's what hot. Not a guy who makes it to my bedroom and starts taking off his own clothes...no one should take their own clothes off when you're headed to bed naked with a partner. Unwrap him or her like the best present you've ever gotten...now that's the way to do it....
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I really should go back to cooking for people. It makes a difference, doing something you have capability in that gives others pleasure. Hell, maybe I should go back to having casual sex again too...I was pretty good at that too!
Pen |
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Today I was overwhelmed. But then that's how emotion takes one sometimes. When I can't avoid my chidlren seeing me weep, I laugh and tell them I am so filled with emotion that the tears are just it leaking out. But today I cried so hard I nearly got sick. I sat in my car in the driveway and just let tears pour down. I just...well...I worked so hard to get to the other side of my divorce and the move and the career change. And it's seems like I'm not. My ex still has far too much of an impact on my financial picture, not at all the way the attorneys and such represented it too me. If I hear "yes, but this deal has teeth" one more time, I'll hit someone over the head with it. In civil matters, there isn't any teeth. We'll see if this new filing can do anything, but really fuck it; I've lost faith. In many systems, you're set up to lose. Unlike me, the optimist, but there you have it.
I've done all I can to chill. Dinner and conversation with Darling Dom, my dear dear friend last night. His words and perspective and his knowledge of my history are a blessing. He recently lost a parent. And I've worried for him. I miss him as his work takes him further away. And he of course spends his weekends with his girl. I'm so glad he has met someone who truly appreciates what a good man he is, perversions and all, but I miss our outings. So last evening was truly lovely.
My new tv escape is Versailles. Lots of historical escape, poisoning and mayhem. Plenty of naked backsides as well and frontside of women. Why don't we get to see more male frontages? I really don't understand why and erect male is any different than a naked female to the sensibilities.
I think part of the reason I'm so suseptible to stress is how seldom I have sex anymore.
I really wish the process of finding someone wasn't so damn frustrating. I talked with Darling Dom about relationships. How he enjoys his gf. But then is ready to go home at the end of the weekend, having lived alone so long. I have limited time without my children. A few weeknights, a couple of weekends a month. Of course they are old enough I could theoretically go out on a date on an evening they are at home, but I don't. And eventually I could theoretically have a guest overnight with them here; but that too I don't. It's just icky unless he's a keeper. And really since I don't want to marry again...I just wonder if it's all for naught. If I'm even relationship material myself given my limits.
Quite frankly I find the idea of a weekend or two a month spent with a man I enjoy, perfect. Add dinner and a sleepover one night a week, and I think that's perfect. Space. Fun. Grown up time. But perhaps that does not a relationship make. I'll ask y'all, what do you think?
I told DD about my disasterous brunch Saturday. Now mind you, the man was the oldest man I'd ever gone out with. DD, kind man, suggest I look too young and likely not what he was expecting. Tough to explain when the date's daughter is closer to my age than he. I think I've got to nix dating anyone over 65 at this point. But I hate to be so arbitrary. We are not our age. But generational differences can be only too real in the way we relate or can't relate to each other. And I don't want to do that again.
This is just a spill, a rant, a release, a torrent...complaint, stress, frustration. It'll get better. I know this, but right now the mud is deep and I'm stuck.
Pen |
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I do apologize for my snail pace responding to emails. You see, these emails I savour. (Well not ALL of them; some of y'all are just rude.). But you know who you are. Your handle is the one that makes me smile when it pops up. I don't always read it right away but save it, like that dark dark piece of chocolate I get at the end of some days with my green tea. It's my reward. So too is the time I take to respond when it's quiet and I've a pot of tea made; my way of spending time with you. The cyberspace version of tea and conversation...Know this: you are valued. You bring light to me when I need it most it seems. And I appreciate your warmth and kindness.
I've been a GOOD parent lately. But then snow days are made for such things; it's why I love them so much now that I have the haven with reliable heat and managable shoveling. No sidewalks are a blessing. Snickerdoodles. German apple pancake breakfasts. New veges (beet greens are amazing, BTW). Even though I feel my capabilities lacking in some areas, it helps to do the things I have some expertise with. I forget I am capable. I know it. But I don't FEEL it.
I talk about feeling a great deal. How I try to manage them. As a woman, I've had what I've felt thrown back at me in ways that denigrated emotion and instinct. It's taken me many many years to trust my instincts. Reseach tells us to, particularly in the industry I'm now trying to break into. It took professor after professor telling me to listen to that inner voice. I remember listening to it in my early 20's when I first moved to Manhattan and was looking for work. Any employer who was more interested in my looks than my degree I said no to no matter how much I needed that job. Maybe commonsense, maybe instinct. I've always known what leads to more trouble rather than less.
But following instinct when it comes to others is harder for me. Perhaps some of my sons ergers has been drawn from me. I don't know how others in my day to day life see me unless they tell me so. One friend tells me I'm mysterious to the rest. A good thing to be for a woman I suppose. But meet me and I'll answer anything. I prefer to be frank and sometimes I'm too brash. That could be bergery for sure. I do appreciate subtelty when it's not an excuse for passive aggression. I much prefer "tell it like it is" when accompanied with a kindness filter. And when I'm with others, I am fully present in the moment. It's when I'm not that my brain can breed worry. But then so much doesn't make sense to me at present; there's a disconnect between what was represented to me and what it. And that, darlings, is crazy making. Though no worries. The craziest things I do are sexual; and y'all just celebrate that. I could use a little of that kind of crazy...
Pen |
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It's money. I'm letting anxiety over money get to me. Because I'm a squirrel at heart. I want nuts tucked away in every tree for whatever inclement times may come. Of course most of the time they don't. But I have this THING about being prepared. I figured it was because I am the head of my family and there's no one else to lean on. But then as I began talking to other friends I realize that's not really true. My extended family might not be mine by blood but we belong to each other by choice and have each other's backs. Of course I can't ask for anything because I was raised it was simply not something one does. (I'm still such a prude in manners sometimes.). Though my friends make me do uncomfortable things and I've gotten better. But it's still agonizing for me.
So I did what I do when something is haunting or bugging me too much. I just fucking DO it. I sat down with the mess. Head first into bills. My fear when money comes in is that there won't be enough to last us as the next is often delayed or absent. Then we're fucked. I'm changing jobs, so if I can just get that to happen I won't be around as much but the money issues will fade. But there will be new issues at hand. In any case the best thing to do is just pay stuff and be left with less. Then the looming issues of bills are no longer an issue.
Let's just pray for flow. Let it the cashflow keep flowing. And I can deal with it. It's ridiculous how near panic I get trying to figure it out. Shades of my childhood on public assistance there. To feel powerless isn't someplace I want to return to. No, darlings, not even in kink.
What I want is what we all want. To be adored. Just to have one other person find me entrancing and to need to tell me so, to need to touch me and to be with me. And I him. A simple girl. I just want to be wanted by someone who knows me, lumps and all. It smoothes all the edges of life, that. And I could use some tucking in and smoothing out about now.
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I should've reached out an emailed back the few I call friends on here. I apologize but when I'm in funk, the last thing I want to do is spread it. And when I feel absolute need for people, I'm gonna run the other way as I'm a contrary puss. Not really. Just very very uncomfortable wanting anything or anyone too much.
Two lovely things today. My dear elderly friend who I take to brunch every other Sunday paid me the most wonderful compliment. I tell him nearly everything, though not about my sex life at present. Though there's not much to tell, is there? I talked about myself and my family and my difficulties stopping the "what if's" in my head now that my freedom fund is decimated. But I also talked about my ex whose financial missteps have left him deep in a hole. I, in comparison, am at sea level. Ha! Just want to climb the mountain a little in case a flood head my way...So I am blessed to be free of him and what being tied to him financially in the ways I was before meant. But I want to climb higher.
I talked of my children and how my youngest asked me why I kept saying no to so much as didn't dad give me money? Now I tell my children very little that would present their father in a negative light. Perhaps it's just for all to know who he really is, but I am not going to hurt my children by slinging mud at the other person they love most in the world. I did say, however, that yes, dad does give us money but he is not giving us the amount he is supposed to that we need to live the way we were. That rent and our car and bills must be paid first and we are not at present getting what was agreed upon. I apologized to him. I told him I so wish I could give him more yes'es than no's. And it's true.
I don't want to give my children endless things...and have little guilt saying no to the custom Vans when he has perfectly workable sneakers now. But I do want to give them experiences. And I know it's not so long before my nest will be empty; that my time with them is now. I want to give more. But I can't right now. The new attorney needed to be hired. My bills are being paid, if a bit later than I prefer. There are one too many pasta nights in the week. But we do have what we need. There's that word again...NEED. I just want more. And they want more. But I did tell my son, it will not always be like this. This is temporary. It doesn't really make it easier, but there it is.
I never got to compliment my friend paid me. He of course told me I look lovely as always, but he's a charmer. But he told me that I am the happiest person he knows. And he doesn't want worry to change that. He is right there. I AM happy. Even with the what ifs, even finding solo weekends endless, and even with the financial stress. I am happy. And I am free. I'd sure like to be free'er to hit the road with a companion in adventure to explore these little towns in Delaware and Maryland that have caught my fancy these days. But it'll happen again. I'm trying hard for an oyster roast this month to a town I adore and pick up some of my current fav oolong tea I've finished off. That's really all I want to do. Walk, talk to folks, eat oysters, drink a few dark-n-stormies, and buy some tea. I have good taste, but I'm not hard to please. And generally please myself. It would sure be nice though to have someone else to please me in bed; I'm damn tired of porn and damn tired of masturbating.
Oh! I forgot the other thing that happened. Really delightful and I want to write it down so I remember. My mind is a sieve sometimes. The fancy grocery store express line...I was a little scattered. Big cart, little lane, banging it gracelessley. The most handsome man was behind me and reached over to help. I continued to be rather graceless but he seemed to find it charming. And the guy in front of me had WAY more than 15 items. We started talking. OMG he was delicious. Tall, maybe 40ish, dark hair, with that groomed stubble thing men do now. We started joking about my items and I told him of course I under 15 unless you count the papertowels in the giant package separately. I continued to be clumsy loading my cart with the enormous tp and papertowel packages and fitting the few other things in between it. I moved my flowers and he reached out to take them and present them back to me once I got everything settled. The most beautiful double orange tulips...this girl likes color. I told him yes, thanks, the flowers are the most important part! Grin and off...Yum. I think the lesson is...I'm really fucking capable. And I don't ask for help like EVER. So it might behoove me to just let my more graceless self out more. Men like to be men and we don't give them the chance to help much these days. I sure don't. I suppose there could be something charming about a klutzy female with a good spirit. Especially if she grins at you.
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As always, I get over myself. Just thinking so much lately rather than doing. I need to do more and think less, rather opposite of many folks. I think just the act of cooking creatively without needing to think or please anyone but myself was cathartic. It's an imperfect stove, but I'm faulty equipment is no stranger to me. That's why they make oven thermometers if you give it a little more time. I managed a thin crust pizza, again Brazilian style with light sauce and lighter cheese. This time was San Danielle prosciutto (less salty than the Parma), roasted golden beet slices, goat cheese, and oregano. Yeah, weird, but good. Kind of like me at times. And mostly with leftovers. My personal challenge. Now to figure out how to cook beet greens...
Finished the queer eye episodes. The last, firefighters, was both touching and hot. And y'all get me and fire these days. In between and when doing the dough...music. It IS too quiet here. I find the song "Oooh child..." so perfect. Y'all know it. "Oooh oooh child, things are gonna get easier. Oooh oooh child things are gonna get brighter..." Simple. But I'm a girl who needs more hugs than most even if they just from a song. I kept on the soul channel for more and ended up dancing my very round ass off in front of the tv. I wonder if you could see my shadow through the shade...I'd rather disturb my neighbors screaming "YES!" or "Oh, FUCK YES!" But this girl is not getting any o's this weekend.
I may need a good party to work out the kinks (not the good kind) that have my neck and shoulders and forehead bound up in little pellet of knots. No alcohol tonight. 7 drinks a week is the female okay rate. I usually don't come too close, but this week yeah....
I changed my linens from the fleece sheets I tucked in with TBH weeks ago. Time to exorcise him from my bedroom. Back to virginal white. Though that's the only thing besides my skin that's virginal about me. My edges get a little sharper without the smoothing effect of sex. But I did find a dark choc Toblerone bar today. The darker the better with me. If only I could do the same in the bedroom. A proper Dom would not go amiss at present but finding such and building that sort of connection doesn't happen in the blink of an eye. And I don't want to work so hard at romance or sex anymore. I'd rather say fuck it THAN fuck it.
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Ensconced in one of the local Starbucks again. I couldn't bear being in the haven any more. It's a refuge, but I am not a homebody. I prefer noise. I lived on a noisy road in the old house; I miss road noise, believe it or not. But yes, the sounds of birds and honks of geese have far more charm. But I know I need to leave to appreciate coming home. I've always been built that way. And I need people as much as dislike admitting it. I won't do a solo dinner out as is my preference on dateless nights because I am trying very hard to conserve funds. It's awkward anyway though I used to love having a glass of wine and a steak salad at the bar. I go through jags when my Gran's belief that a woman alone in a bar is improper. For a woman who appreciates breaking rules so much, I'm a natural at internalizing most of them....AND I've just spilled coffee all over my lap!!! I'm so clumsy sometimes. And no darlings....I didn't burn any of the good parts...I AM however on a roll with such things, having less red hair now they've cut that burned parts of that off...
I listened to a couple of gentlemen next to me bemoan the fate of one divorcing. The one man's body language and glance at me solo at the next table might have been a flirt. But today I'm shy. Most of the time I am though no one believes it. Confidence wanes and waxes. Now if someone looks like they need help in a conversation or some other sort of assistance or I can think of a compliment that comes spontaneously to my lips, I'll let go and say something. But I've never been good at foisting myself on someone else, despite feeling I often do. My coffee'd lap is getting cold but I'm not ready for home yet. There's a wonderful Irish pub in my town as in most of the shore towns...I've been craving their Irish coffee for weeks and weeks, but again I don't want to go into a bar alone. And in the past I've dined solo there a'plenty. I have somehow come to feel a sense of want. Both financially and personally. Having spent my child in such a state, I felt powerless for a very long time. I no longer feel a lack of power as I know I have plenty of that. But I do feel a sense of want and that has always been uncomfortable in the extreme for me.
There are two white haired ladies at the counter; I wouldn't mind being one of a pair of friends too. But my friends are mostly like me, still raising children and all the time that entails. And they're all attached. Add working long hours...and here I am. A woman of a certain age, fairly well preserved, and classy enough...but one who thinks far too much and has begun to worry about what if's (never a good thing for my head). I've taken to watching the new Queer Eye series as I love the old one. There's something about makeovers; I love makeovers myself...my stylist loves me since I pretty much let her do whatever. I'm usually some shade of red. I did nix the hair extensions given the cost versus how long they last. But long, short, edgy, simple...it's fun and it's just hair; it grows back. Did I mention I cried my way through my last episode of Queer Eye today when a lovely young man came out? I'm a sap of the highest order. Add hormonal flux and oh, I have very clear eyes as a result. I'm going to need to hydrate to replace all the fluid I've lost today.
Generally when I need to hydrate it's been after a long session of sex when I've squirted like a mad woman...I am definitely not doing enough of that. But sigh, I don't wanna with just anyone. I want just a little charm and wit. And damn it, a man who at least TRIES. I've spent too much time with too many folks who don't. At least that is not me. I keep trying though many times I wonder why I am.
Supersub told me today "you always have a date." Well I suppose I do manage to have some on occasion though I don't know how. Well actually, yeah. It's about being open, expecting I will learn from everyone I meet. I told him in reply that it sure seems like it, but if I really did why do I spend nearly every night I don't have my children solo and usually at home typing away? I expect I'll keep typing this evening too. But I've extra dough from last night so I thought I'd try a beet and goat cheese pizza of sorts and see what I come up with. These are the nights I can eat weird veggies my children will not. I'm so tired of broccoli. Broccoli and dates that feel like interviews....but aren't we all?
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I'm not fond of last night's tipsy journal entry, but I'm not going to start editing now. Best to leave it be. Back from a date. And yeah, sometimes these solo weekends loom long. Y'all know that feeling? Plenty to do. Nice day. Crave the right company. But also crave not having to do anything or be anywhere in particular. We are contrary creatures.
It was not a good date. Brunch was a good idea though. IDK why. Was it his personality? A generation gap? My internal judginess I'd tried to swallow? My friend, supersub, suggests it's a chemistry issue. Sure. But usually I can connect with most people even if I don't see them as tied naked to my bedposts. This guy I couldn't. Less than an hour and I didn't even finish my eggs, just wrapped it to go...maybe he simply didn't find me attractive and just wanted to get through it. Little warm or interest on both our parts and I did try. I think primarily though the man is not ready. And is a man more comfortable with other men than women. His very late in life divorce was not his idea. I know how frightening dating was in my 40s. Can you imagine starting from scratch in your 60s? Terrifying.
I've spent too much time at the haven watching the water. Less a thing of beauty these days than a threat. But even though the flooding and tide was higher today, enough to create a small island in the yard, its going down. I forget I've only been here 4 1/2 months. I don't know what the cycle of a year looks like here. Just trying to figure out Christmas was tricky here. The seasons are all new. Landscape and how to use the house and all. I know I need to entertain more. I feel as if I've lost the knack. Plus...asking anything of anyone terrifies me. Yep, truly it does.
It's a completely alien skill to a girl raised with the notion that asking anyone for anything is about the rudest thing you can do. Of course mine was an impossibly prideful family too. They never took charity; but then they never gave it either. Self reliance on steroids. Not terribly supportive of each other either. You sink or swim on your own. Now that makes me a great survivor. But not always the best friend. I am there for sure. No one has a back like I do. Dependable times 30. But it's disproportionate. I don't know how to ask. I make myself sometimes. My cohorts make me since they recognize two biggies few others do...I have no backup myself. No family is going to help. And the times I was dating someone seriously and needed help, my lovely girlfriends couldn't understand why I wouldn't tell him. I couldn't understand why they'd expect me to. This is an area in my personal development that remains a bit stunted. Autonomy is a great thing but so is balance.
I cry as I write this. And I know I need to leave the haven for a bit as I've been too much alone. My hormones are out of whack today and I know that is why I can cry so easily. But like most women who hug that cusp of boomer/x'er, when I was first forming relationships with other adults (esp men)...being emotive was denigrated. "Oh you know women...they're all a little bit crazy...". Particularly when we cry. Or get upset over slights. And we got brushed off, told to grow up or that there was something wrong with us. Girls...and boys...there's not a damn thing wrong with what you feel. It's all valid because you feel it. And allowing yourself to feel IS damn grownup. Even when it hurts or makes someone else in the room feel awkward.
Right now because of what's going on with me physiologically, I FEEL. And sometimes waht I feel is so strong I think it's a NEED. Its not. It's a message. I'm fond of reminding myself and too many others that pain is a message. Usually it's a message to stop doing what you're doing and do something else. It certainly can help initiate change.
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Debatable how much sense I'll make this eve, 3 dark & stormies and no lunch...but y'all know my words need to be written. Solo, as I will be most of the weekend. Brunches both days, one a date with a man much older than my usual parameters. The other with my beloved 86 yr old friend, also a much older man. But he is like my Grandpa K or an older uncle I never had. There were few men in my life growing up but Grandpa K. We weren't related by blood. But his wife was one of my Gran's best friends. Grandpa K built me a bookshelf when I was 7 and I've never had a home without them since. He and his wife had one beautiful daughter who died tragically and young, her husband cheating and her children left without their mother. Rosemarie was her name. And she was lovely. The Hemmingway gateleg table I write on was left to my Gran from her and then to me. I remember sitting around it with tea when I was a freshman in high school wishing I had a family like hers. I suppose I do now.
Damn I get maudlin when I drink sometimes. But she is good to remember. Though we all chafed at the questions "why can't you be more like Rosemarie?"
A nor'easter they called it, and a nor'easter is certainly was today. Damage here, but due to the owner of the property not fixing things quite right. I must a PITA of a tenant. But I do pay my bills.
Tonight I made a black and green olive pizza, dough from scratch. Brazilian style..which is generally in a half sheet pan over my usual pizza screens, little sauce/Little cheese and some shallots. Okay, yeah, my interpretation of something I made once for international night that no one could stop eating. I like dough. It's tactile. Sometimes almost skinlike. But that yeasty, glutenous, floury scent and olive oiled hands...well...it would make a good scene for a massage had there been someone other than I here.
The track pants guy offered a date this eve...texting me sometime around noon...no can do. It's a shame I enjoyed him and would love to be friends. But he's going to want more and I can tell already his energy doesn't work with mine. I am a PITA. I want to go and do things and fuck lots. And kiss more. And be illuminated by another mind. But I learn from everyone. So it's not hard for me to see light.
I watched a documentary on Gloria Allred...fabulous...I had no idea who she was, but you will find me ill informed about things that may surprise you. That's why I need others to illuminate my narrow focus. Maybe not the best choice when going on a date with a man I expect is a decided boomer tomorrow...but we'll see. It's shiny and dusted and warmly lit inside tonight with Apple music's rainy day romantic tunes play list on tap. And I can't eat anymore olive duo pizza.
Did I mention I've completely eliminated cuck? No more conversations. No more contact info. I simply erased him. I had a picture he gave me as a consolation prize for not inviting me to his master's ceremony despite my help in getting him there. I'm going to attic it. Some folks just don't change and are plain rude. There's no place for him in my head or in this haven now. I get lonely sometimes. So I can be ripe for conversation, texting away. But now. I'd rather not. Nothing good comes from anything to do with that man.
Hell it's normal to sometimes feel a bit lonely. But damn I love my freedom. I love my space. And though part of me wants that beau, the other part of me asks why I am so determined to give up my power? It's not like I want to marry again. I've never lived with a man I've not been married to, however last century it sounds. And I don't want to. Come and visit my space and my life, sure. And invite me to yours. And let's cozy up and enjoy the novelty and sweetness of it all. And then back to our respective hives. To meet again when it's time for the honey to flow.
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SIN & COS today and chemical equations. Not my homework, but my children who are way smarter than I but haven't realized it yet. I talk a good game. And thank heavens for Google. I am trying hard to manage stressors beyond my control. It's difficult to keep perspective. Though the deer picking their way through the water at low tide yesterday helped. As do the daffodils poking green shoots up through the soil someone must've planted here once. Add the tall gentlemenly Great Blue Heron making his dignified way through the high water this afternoon, and well...it helps. I've come to the point where IDK how I'm going to manage if what I imagine is coming my way does. But one day at a time. That's all I need to keep in my head. But ohh...I'm getting nervous. Enough.
So I've been thinking about how I react when someone wants to come here without the usual social niceties. Ie...he invites me to his place first. I'd found myself in a relationship with a married cheater in the past. And I've been the wife of the same. I'd recommend neither. So now, if you don't have me over I will walk. And certainly the booty call here has lost it's appeal as I'd prefer to have my own space to myself unless I really really like and trust a guy. There should be transparency and ease. But I'm sure other's protect their space as well. Or are embarrassed by it as I was in my former digs.
I'm beginning to conclude I may not meet someone with whom we mutually suit. I'd best get back to empire building and nix the relationship search. Quite frankly as much as I want the trimmings...skin-to-skin, conversation, sharing live music and great dinners, and mutual encouragment...the rest of it can be tricky. When I begin to want his time or he mine. It chafes. Or expectations that end up causing angst. I clearly didn't do so well on my longest relationship but manage to do stellarly when it comes to my children. But then of course I'm the one in charge. And I really don't want to be in charge of anyone else or fall into that thing we as women do and try to control and test men.
It sounds shallow. But truly I want to have fun. Who knows how many days of fun any of us have left? But I also care.
I haven't heard from TBH for several days. In a way it's good as when I talk to him I miss the man. Whereas I get used to not hearing from him. Sounds odd to me. But there you have it. I know I shouldn't nix anyone right now. But...there are quite simple things I can't quite ask him though I know I should. My stylist (the female bartender) tells me to put my cards on the table as men are not so good at such things. But I won't. Silly girl. Maybe that's why I want to date older. In hopes they'll be way more open and grown up than me. And lead the way just a bit. A bit is what I said, Doms. I don't wanna be anyone's slave. Beloved fucktoy if he takes me out to dinner and tucks me in next to him and holds me close and whispers sweetness in my ear after he lies tucked into my cum-filled puss. Sigh.
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I was an insomniac for many years and suffered nightmares. As a child I suffered from persistent skin infections of the eczema and food allergies that I've since outgrown Thank heavens for that. My health was worse in my early twenties with a duodenal ulcer and eventually a serious kidney infection. Growing up as I did, the hospital was one of the few places adults took care of me. Now I'm healthier than I ever was. I think we discount the impact of stress and our perceptions on our well being. Stress really can make you sick.
As a child and teen, I frequently had to wear white cotton gloves to protect and heal my skin. Every night I had to slather the preion ointment over my hands and feet, cover that with plastic bags, then socks or mittens. And that is how I had to sleep every night. I don't even remember when it stopped, but certainly I didn't in college. You feel bound; every night I felt uncomfortable. I couldn't wait to wake, strip off the gear and stretch. I wake still and stretch like a cat, including fingers and toes because somewhere in my psyche I remember being not free.
It's a theme I suppose, my need to feel free. How very American of me, to value freedom above the rest. I suppose it's why I and others sometimes struggly with attachment as much as I want it. Choices, attachments...all limit you. I've been blessed that my life imploded more than a decade ago now when my marriage imploded. The commitment I made I no longer had to honor. The future I didn't look forward to, but was going to keep on the path because I made a promise, evaporated. The first emotion that comes rushing in is FEAR. Yes, all caps FEAR. But then came the sense of possibility. And few of us are blessed to have a whole new world open up to us midlife. It a good thing. There's still fear. And doubt. Lack of confidence at times. A deep craving for a partner to back me up (but really I don't think I ever had that). But what I have is more than most and less than some. And somehow, despite weeks that are very very hard and saying "no, we can't" do this or this to my children when I want to say yes...we manage.
But of course I want to do more than manage. I want to thrive. I want to grow. I want to laugh. And y'all know I want to fuck. I want to share screaming o's with a partner. And I want to sleep with my head on a beloved chest as the sound of his heartbeat stops me from fretting and hypnotizes me to sleep.
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There's something to be said for dating someone who lives a similar lifestyle. I've never been particularly rigid about things like ethnicity or race or even age. But I find I prefer to share some degree of cultural values which can make dating challenging with some ethnicities and races. Certainly not all members of such. But there are simple ways of being and communicating that I need some degree of similarity to connect. I also need to be with empathetic folks. Kind, caring, honest and respectful. These qualities exist cross culturally so I try to remain open. But frankly, the simple things when missing get in the way. A vocabulary I understand. Intelligence with out pomposity. A big one...proper dress. I chastise myself that dress is so important to me when it seems such a shallow concern. But if I met you in a restaurant in sweats and uni tee, would you feel like I did more than roll out of bed and showed up? Now I'm not fond of suits. Or even ties. A great pair of dark wash jeans, non-white sneaks, and a nice tee or collard knit shirt tell me you dressed for a date. As do I. And if you hold open doors and behave like a gentleman, we'll that should be a matter of course as I will be the lady I am. Irrepressible and funny, but still a lady. Now if we want to melt away that veneer of civility in the bedroom, by all means I hope we get there. But we have to start from a place of mutual respect, friendship even, and simply like each other. It's just as important as chemistry.
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Seems like it's date night at Barnes & Noble. It was the closest Starbucks for me to avoid an extra hour's drive to pick up teens this evening. Sad place for a date night; and I used to haunt this place. But just as I lost my taste for stuff; I lost my taste for endless print books. My library is still I suppose bigger than most given I see few homes with visible bookshelves (with actually books on them) any more. Though my children's libraries are bigger, but that to me is as it should be...I'd rather give them my shelves and let them fill their brains and feed imagination. I've worked at book stores and owned a book store. Strong shoulders and back here as a result. But I miss my stick arms as now mine are muscular but softening. I'm a strong woman.
Perhaps I'm less tolerant of people. Certainly I know too much to put up with nonsense or disingenuity. These days what attracts me is a ready smile with good teeth of course! A well kept man, though that in no way implies Ken perfection. Older. Though now of course older may well be OLD. Of course I think I look younger than I am as we all do. My friends wonder at my relative lack of wrinkles. Fair skin, sunscreen and my lotions and potions, but mostly because I carry a little weight. They laugh when I tell them, but it's true...my wrinkles are filled in with fat. And no, darlings, fat is not a bad word. Just adipose tissue. I'm healthy enough though carrying more than I should. My chiropractor today mentioned my weight loss. IDK if it's true or not as my goals tend to involve the fit of my clothes over numbers on a scale. But I waste little; cook more; eat less. Though with a dysfunctional thyroid, my metabolism may not speed up until I get to the point where I need medication. I'd rather not.
I forced myself out today. I've been alone too much. I knew I needed to drive anyway, as the respite of the haven gets old with cold rainy days stacking on top of one another. I get edgy and start feeling caged when I'm in one place too long. I've always had to leave home to appreciate coming back to it. Cabin fever is a real problem to me. And with my resources now more limited and requiring careful management...well, there's no fluff. And I love my fluff. Those extra bits and treats that keep me smooth and steady. It's forced me to make some decisions. And fine tune what I want. Everything for a reason, yes?
I suppose I always did need escape. Hell, I've run away from home more than once. Never left my children mind you. But certainly when they are with their father my preference is to toss a bag in the car and drive. Tea a few hours away tastes better in the unique teahouses or coffee bars I find. My ipad for company and my words...and I feel better. I prefer a partner in escape, but that's not always possible. Time shared, conversations over meals or even when tucked in skin-to-skin...blow away solo time. Though my life even with children is spent interacting less. The old house was stressful and falling apart; but we had to fuction as a team to get things done. And of course there was space. A kitchen we could all work in. Tasks divided. Common areas shared. Now I expect I should go out more when my children are home so perhaps they'd realize I'm not there to serve. Their ages matter, yes. But the space too doesn't lend itself to group interaction.
I'm not even sure what is coming out of my head this evening. I know I want to be with an adult male and that's not going to happen soon. I know there's a particular adult male I want, but I'm entirely clueless how to procede. I suppose I could just ask. But I'm at heart a mannerly sort. And it's beyond difficult for me to make the first move with men. Once I'm comfortable, I can. But oh, it takes time and clear interest on his part for me to step forward.
I crave my bed tonight. I crave being more. Y'all know what I mean. Now I have a family who appreciates me. But I fill a role. I want to be more than my current roles.
Time to stop the words tonight.
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Just finished a deadline I was procrastinating towards. I know better, but I'm not the motivated eager beaver I was once. I'm the tired girl who just wants to get it done so her time is her own. Nothing quite so freeing as that. That and a pot full of gold. Working on that part. It's fact...resources free you. And a woman of my tastes needs some funds to be able to indulge her passions. Not for stuff. I don't give a damn for stuff except for the occasional handbag when the old one starts looking shape and the color begins to rub off. And my lotions and potions when I scrape bottom. But experiences! I need my escapes. Gas and enough for a good meal and rather nice hotel room or air BNB. People I meet and the sound of the road under my wheels feeds me.
So I may rant a bit. I've heard from endless guys on another site. I won't meet with any of them. That was not my initial intent. I'm reminded of when I was someone's wife. I start off turned on and wanting to fuck. But sure enough the replies and approaches I get from just about all takers evaporate desire. I think I'm up to masturbating 2 to 3 times a day. I'm easily pleased in bed. Penetration works. I don't even need oral; though if I'm giving it and he's not...well..that's not going to work for long. I prefer cock to fingers though I dream of my pussy being played with afterwards when it's full of cum and slippery. Almost just the thought of it makes me want to cum. And yeah, I want a man I'm fluid bound to. I wish...I wish I had a hot blooded partner who needed to cum everyday or so. So I could live filled with his cum every day. But that's expecting a lot when I find a man my age and older far more to my liking .
At times I miss having a cuckhold, though not the particular cuck I had. It would be fun to be deeply attached to one man with bi tendencies and invite another to join us for most of the night. I've spoken of my fondness for bi men in the past. I find such men the most evolved sexually. And while I won't share a man with another woman, I will with another man. Plus there's something so charged about a couple sharing a cock orally. Forbidden and hot. I have a cum fetish I rarely indulge. But oh, to be filled and filled again. And to have my partner lick it from me then share it...these are the things my dreams are made of...
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With today a holiday, this is effectively the start of my week. Though blessedly some of my family were off as well, so it was a simply lovely day. I baked last night. A former chef, I have some skill. I'd forgotten how practiced and natural I am and how I can be creative with simply what I find leftover. I rarely enjoy cooking these days. I'm a woman who prefers to be served and have others do clean up. Is my food better? Usually, yes. I've learned with my recent cash flow issues how to cook cuts of meat I'd never even heard of before. If it's onsale, I can make something great with it. Though I'm one of those chicks who prefers natural, organic if we consume it in any quantity, and local if at all possible. And all of the above comes at a premium.
I adore TBH for many reasons. He's a pescatorian which I enjoy because as much as i love seafood; it's expensive. Without my sons fishing we aren't well stocked and fish is now a special occasion meal. So eating with TBH is LOVELY; though I couldn't live on fish and veges like the aescete he is. There are times when just beef will do. I think I crave sodium when I crave meat so much...it's beef or bacon but both in moderation. Sodium too. Try keeping a sodium journal sometime... I managed it for 3 days. You'll be amazed at how much you consume without adding a bit of salt to your food. A slice of a cold cut, celery, prepared foods...I preach I know. But I'd rather manage my diet than take blood pressure meds.
Compliments today which make me glow when it comes from my children. The baked good rock. One new creation is a combo of all my girl's fav things. Nice to make those you love the most happy.
My new legal skirmish (it's not big enough to be called a battle) begins. I dread how pissed someone is going to be at me for protecting my own interests. But needs must. I don't think I'm one of those terrible screaming ex'es. But I'm definitely a PITA to him. He would and has called me worse. Names I never though a man raised as well as he was knew. But oh yeah...
I drove to a glorious date with TBH Friday evening. I get pleasure looking at him across the table. His face is angular, with the kindest brown eyes and his lips I always want to explore. I've dated few men who leave everything on the table when they excuse themselves...wallet, phone, keys...and the I-have-nothing-to-hide transparency of something that simple continues to surprise me. It's what I've sought for long. I do trust the man. Mostly. Ha! I've been through the ringer. The next necessary step is for him to invite me over; we'll see if that happens and yeah, then I'll probably trust him more than I could imagine ever getting to again. Hell, it's not even about trust. I simply have the most fun and learn more in an easy way with him than I have ever. I value his presence.
I've made some choices to approach my cash flow situation differently. Without seeing it in terms a permanent shortfall. That's what it's been feeling like. As if that wave was going to overtake me and send me tumbling. I'm just sticking to shallower water now until the seas calm down. I'm a flat water sheltered bay girl in any case. Time to stay in a safe harbor and tame my adventurous spirit.
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Heavens it was a TOUGH week. I did the hard stuff though. Made a few deadlines that were driving me batty. But I find I'm not handling stress as well as I used to. Now I've been knee deep in the muck plenty of times and struggled, but these present stressors...well, my emotional response seems out of proportion to the stimuli. And I'm back to an earlier version of Penny...the worrier that I thought I'd banished. Not last week. I could get myself tied in knots (not the good ones) over could happens and might happens and potentialities. I can see so many side of every issue that at times my head wants to explode. My secret? Sex as stress relief, the kinkier the better...escape to somewhere else so home seems like a haven when you return...and rationalize what I feel as complex physiological reactions.
Well...the sex has dried up. Okay, so not really. I could have sex if really wanted to. But what I want changed. Like most women (and unlike myself usually) I want more. I want that mutual support/relationship almost more than I want the sex. And that's saying a lot. I still look. But I don't really follow thru to the culmination. The last man who was inside of me is TBH. And truly, I'd prefer him to all others but I've lost the skill in how to take it there. And when I want someone that much, my brain usually kicks in to fuck it up and distance myself. Relationships these past years have been more about pain than joy so my brain says "oh, no you don't...". Still though...I can hold to the image of that man's face across the dinner table and that grin! But of course, I've had him in MY bed now, so I'm sometimes haunted and dream of him being there...and endless kinky things I want to do to and with him. Except I wake up and he's not there. Ah well...
I date. It's never as good as it is with him. Damn...he's in my head. Now I LOVE conversation. And I adore meeting new people even though most of the guys I meet want to sleep with me over be my friend. I end up wanting to be friends more. This weekend I met a guy in the same profession I am. Lots to talk of. I think we sat at the table for 5 hours talking away. I think he's fabulous. But I don't want a relationship with him. Some people are easy to be with since they're like you or they give and take equally. Others you make concessions to make them comfortable. Such was this. Darlin's please please never show up for a date in a tee and track pants. Guy casual is nice jeans and a collared shirt on a date; maybe a tee if you're just meeting for coffee during the day. But if you insist that you'll go anywhere as long as you don't have to dress nice...well you shouldn't be on a date. Sigh. If a woman can find a decent pair of jeans (and boys you have no idea how hard that really is to do!), y'all can manage to do the same.
More later.
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Today was better. Last night tough. I went new age'y. I still haven't unpacked my mineral specimens. I call them specimens; some call them crystals. And yes some are purported to influence energy channels in the body if you believe in such things. I'm a skeptic most of the time. But I'll also try anything since heaven knows there are too many mysteries in the world we have not explained. I look up a few of the bigger rocks. But some here and there. Pyrite and black tourmanline I used to keep on either side of the entries to the old place. I figured what the heck, try it here. Selenite is my favorite. In wands or a rough graduated column; you can't get it wet or it will melt. It's cool and linear and translucent like ice would be if it turned to a rock. And selenite always calms me. I touch it and my body hums. Not in an exciting way, but rather like a magnetic air conditioner...I'm drawn to it or maybe it pulls the ickies from me and it cools me down. Not in a depressing way but in a lower-my-blood-pressure-cat-purring-peaceful kind of a way.
Hey, anything that helps I'll try. I even put a few rocks under my pillows and slept with the center of tension at the base of my neck on a tourmaline slab last night. I can't say it made me terribly productive today, but I felt better. And better is just what I needed to feel.
Actually I did good. Solo last night, so washed linens and made my children's beds replete with chocolate filled heart boxes on their pillows. Many grins afterschool when they returned today. I had a deadline; but when I write for purpose...sigh...I have such expectations of myself. It's always original; I don't think I'ver ever gotten more than 2% on turnitin. And good and engaging and geared toward the audience. Citations perfect; prose tight. But the process when I HAVE to do it...OMG...notes and ideas and I read other research and it just percolates...And I NEVER want to HAVE to write. I just want to write like I do here. Just let the words come from me instead of having to be tailored toward bullshit guidelines that make others cross their eyes at having to read it. But I did it. And it's good. It's always good. That's one thing I can do well. And make a kick ass applecrisp which was today's valentine's dessert; the first thing I ever learned to make back when there was home ec in schools. The scent filled the house and was happy making. Maybe next time when I'm blue I'll just boil some lemon peels and spices on the stove to see if it comforts.
I almost bought flowers today. But it's a luxury I can't afford. If I shop at my local grocery tomorrow they'll be giving away roses as we check out instead of having to throw them all away. No, no candy or flowers for me. But I'm not a big celebrator of commerical holidays. But oh, I do love flowers. I just don't like watching them wither and die. Tomorrow I may gather a wild bouquet from the wildness near the water; today it was too much artifice. I'm solo but not...tonight my house is full with children tucked in their beds, bellies filled with a kickass dinner and applecrisp a la mode. And tomorrow I'll meet the girls I'm closest with and tell them for real how much I'm struggling. I need some handholding right now. But I think I've managed to work a deal to keep the wolf from the door just long enough. I'm learning to leverage when I can though it's not a skill I ever wanted to have. I'd rather be pure than manipulative. Though maybe it's just smart.
Thank y'all who reached out. If I only had the words to express how much it means. Keep it coming if you will. I know there's another side to this too, just gotta get there.
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When I first moved here at age 23 from a much smaller town and world view, I hit agencies in Manhattan looking for whatever job would pay me the most so I could stay. My family told me if I left, I could not come back to my hometown. Of course they spent subsequent years trying to convince me to return. I remember it was Columbus Day as there was a parade in NYC. And I got offered a bunch of jobs but had to take the one that paid most...finance at the time. I don't do that anymore, and blessedly doubt I'll wear as suit again if I can avoid it. But I remember betting it all to come here. Money was running out and there were days I could not eat.
It's not the same now, but it feels that way. And there are similarities. Big changes. New career directions. Financial constraints. But I'd rather clear out my pantry than not pay my bills. I am not going back to the feast or famine state of my marriage. But I am so much happier with money. Hell, admit it, we all are. No, it's not the single thing that makes us happy. But resources are freedom and I need to be free to explore and experience the world the way I want to. That is beyond want for me. It's need.
I feel like all the money I've spent to get divorced. All the systems in place for so much of life have real system failures. Of course I've been researching systems theory, so that's part of it. I tend to live what makes sense to me. Or at least apply it. But I look at all the systems my life touches. Education. Works for some. And I'm a big proponent. Healthcare. Amazing people work in healthcare; and the system is incredibly fucked up. Our legal system. You'd think laws and consequences, right? There's little enforcement vehicle for all but the most heinous of crimes. Oh you'll get a piece of paper and judge saying you get this or that, but try to actually enforce it. And you find you'll be paying attorneys off for a few years but there is never any real peace or truth.
I'm frustrated. And I'm partly to blame because I do believe the best of people. And I certainly haven't pursued my own opportunities as vigorously as I could. I don't want to leave my children. I don't want to not be here. And I don't want to feel bad again like I did for so long. But I do. I'm back in a place that is somber and I cry and worry like the wife I was when I was married. I thought freedom would free me from that too. I know I'm going to have to work harder for it.
But I am...I just need one person to be nice to me. A hug or two, A handhold. To just tell me they're on my team. Things LOOK pretty close to perfect here. I've made this little house cool. A parent who has known me before and now came by today. He's an artist and he admired the way we are making it work. And of course the wildlife can sometimes me spectacular. I can still make people laugh. And care about others more than myself. That is who I am. But I truly want to get back to that positivity of just a few months ago when I thought I was on the otherside of it all. Now I feel like I'm in the muck again. Throw me a rope please....
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I dreamt of the tap tap of my heels last night and my stocking clad legs as I walked around my bed deciding what to do with the man blindfolded and tied to my bed. Sadly it was just a dream. It's been awhile since I've gone Domme with all the bells and whistles. Quite frankly it's been awhile since I've gone feminine instead of my usual casual uniform. But I need a reason to put on a dress and heels. Or whatever naughties I'll wear underneath. It would be lovely to have friend to help me get corseted again as I've lost the knack of lacing myself in solo.
I prefer a man blindfolded. They're such visual creatures, nearly entirely so. It stretches a man more to not know what is coming next and to use his other senses to wonder and titilate. I'd bend him over the side of my bed, ass out, legs on the floor. Spread his feet apart with rope secured to either end of the bed. Leave him open and vulnerable to whatever I chose. Not every man can take what I can give hard. If you need pain, I will have you biting my pillows in a silent scream. Though I prefer a man who fights it with varied whimpers and hisses.
I've been more curious about ass play, though the mess sometimes makes me hesitate. Yes, bi men know to not eat much and enema themselves to clean and empty first. Most others feel hell, if you're going to fuck my ass, that's gift enough and don't prep. Often there's no mess. But push it or have a longer cock and then yes, there's the ick factor. But I confess that I can get past that. I have a fascination with prostate stimulation. A lubed gloved hand sounds so clinical but can bring such enlightenment. You'd need trust. And enought confidence to push. I don't always have that confidence unless I know I'm adored. And then...then I can go anywhere.
All the past weekend of grey and rain were ducks in the water. Mallards, one of my fav sounds is the whimsy of a quack. They were already in pairs with spring still months off. Everyone gliding or flying by in units of two. And yeah, it brought pangs of desire to me for that connection too. Though truly I enjoy the freedom I have...I find sharing makes what I do and have more enjoyable. And I do share my life with my little family, but the tuck in with someone I like who is decided male and mature and has experience to share and boundaries to push and be pushed...we'll y'all are on here looking for the same thing.
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Easy tonight. I took a nap. Pasta puttanesca, greens with classic dijon vinagrette, and a couple glasses of old vine sin. Ha! That's Zin. I wish I had a taste of sin this eve. And two halves of cookies I found today. Blackout - heavy cocoa content, almonds and macadamias and a few mini marshmallows melted on top. And classic ginger molasses with coarse sugar sprinkled on top. I love the mouth feel of a little crunch. Though I also love the mouth feel of flesh. I wish I could bite someone tonight. Every now and then I crave to mark and be marked...
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My drive to Princeton today...I saw an alley exhibit on Keat's negative capability. "That is, when one is capable of being in uncertainties, mysteries, doubts, without any irritable reaching after fact and reason....". Ha! It was a rather like a spank back in the face of my reductionist approach. I'm determined to stop clinically pulling interactions and emotions apart to reduce them to fact and reason. I truly think it's not just making me unhappy, but others as well. It's not quite...nice. Time to enjoy what IS. And continue to make opportunites for the exploration I so need, whether I can share them or not.
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I think I need to appreciate myself and all the things I can do solo (and actually do them!) again. It was not unusual for me to dine solo in all sorts of places. Sure there'd be that slight unease walking in and sitting at the bar alone as my Gran taught me sitting at a bar alone is no place for a lady. I've many outmoded checks and balances that I tear right through most times. But there are moments like lately when I have more trouble getting out of my own head. Now I know I've always been a thinker but there's a balance to an active mind and one that can let you rest. And my mind has not been restful lately. Always a problem, that.
It's a useful brain for solving problems and persistence. And heaven knows I learn from my reflections. But there are things I know I need for its health. To always seek learning opportunities. Conversation. Visual and tactile stimulation. Challenges. I suppose my current discomfort is one of those challenges. I may have had an anxiety attack this week. The first in years. And I'm pissed at myself as I've certainly dealt with more stressors than this in the past. And managed, though of course y'all have read of my pain.
I did drive to the other side of the state today. Lovely Princeton. Very early; I practically opened one of my fav cafes but frou frou food pleases me now and then. Goat cheese, smoked salmon, and capers omelette with a pot of tea and classic greens with dijon vinagrette. It's not very au courant food; it's like something I'd have as a rare treat in college when my fav restaurant was Le Petit Cafe. I've always loved cafes even before the days you could haunt them with an ipad and write. I always had a book in my bag.
I'm finding myself easily moved to tears. Less so then earlier in the week but still more than my usual self. Like most of us I feel my chest tighten a bit, my breath catch, and then the prick of moisture. Now it's also the first sign I show of allergies. But then I wonder if there's something physiological wrong. Certainly I can get heart palpitations and I've been to a cardiologist; it's fine...another uncomfortable symptom of perimenopause. So then I wonder if the tightness is some physical malfunction and precedes the stress or the reverse. So there my mind works...it's reductionist...trying always to reduce what I feel into the explainable. And simple. FEELING is uncomfortable because I know what it is to feel too much. Yet I'd give almost anything to to sink into sensation again.
I think in some ways I do need a Dom. With whom it's expected that I will sink in. And let him take care of me as I do him. I want that dynamic in a real sense though. In a I-have-your-back-you-have-mine way. To count on and be counted on. To be that phone call at the end of the day that brings a smile to each others faces. I don't know that I've ever been that good at relationships. I've certainly wanted to be. And I'm smarter now so you'd think I'd get it.
Like most women, I get ahead of myself. You spend time with a man and you see yourselves doing this and that and so on. We are very good at building inner expectations, telling no one of them, then feeling bereft when they don't happen. One of our defining mysteries that befuddles men. And if we thought about it, we'd stop giving our partners a hard time for not being able to read our minds. It's crazy making even for us. And we know better but our minds just GO there.
I'm not the only solo woman here at the cafe. And we are all older. I suppose I'd fit better in this town of academics though I'm not nearly as smart as I'm told I am. My skills just seem to fit academia. Though sh....I can't bear intellectual discussion for long. I'd much rather DO than THINK. I'd much rather experience than ponder.
I've been spoiled. I'd rather wake on a Saturday and pull a warm man out of my bed to start a day with breakfast out and then have an adventure. It would be a plus if he were an adventure in himself. Am I getting to old to feel this way? I wonder why I want that guy so much and if it's that particular man I want?
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I'm emotional as of late. And I'm uncomfortable with it. It's a multitude of stimuli. Really non-stimuli as the winter doldrums are a bit tough to dig out of. My physical enviroment is certainly part of it. This house isn't well lit and it was a tough adjustment to a woman who prefers bright, bright light everywhere. A north facing bedroom that I've kept intentionally empty is dull; khaki walls don't help. I figured it would be at least be soothing. And I suppose that it is. But it reminds me of the places I grew up in with their 24 watt bulbs and you could only keep one lamp on in one room at a time. Everything was rationed. Food, electricity, how much water you could put in the tub, books, affection. I suppose part of why it's been so hard for me with financial concerns is that I feel I'm raising my children with privations as I keep saying no because I must make it last. It's not nearly like me; but I am driven to live differently than how I was raised.
I did visit the court today in an effort to enforce the support order. I did not gain peace of mind. But I did gain an understanding of the system that my opponent does not (yes, I've begun to think of him as an opponent). I ended up reaching out to said opponent. I was frank and polite and real that it will be another weekend like all the other weekends since he missed the support in December. We'll stay here and I'll piece together stopgaps and cheap meals. And I keep saying no to clothing and new sneakers. I told him I won't take them anywhere and that we both had wanted better for them. We will go for a drive, but that's gas of course. Everything costs. I think it made an impression. But I still can't catch up with such a huge sum missing. But I'll try and I'll work harder. It feels llike I've placed my children into the life I escaped from and I think that's why I feel so dispirited. Though of course it's not. It just doen't feel that way. I can rationalize til the cows come home and understand intellectually these are simply temporary cash flow problems. But what I feel is not recuping back to my optimistic base as quickly as it usually does.
I feel a pang now when I go to bed as I miss TBH's head on my pillows. The rough texture of his chest, the smoothness of his lovely waxed back, strong hands...but mostly just the companionship though he snores. I probably do too. A small price for his heat. So now I think of him in places that are mine and I want him back here. But I'm also a pretty damn needy girl right now, so I'll keep my distance.
Cuck was going to stop in his travels this weekend. But of course he's up to his old tricks again. El disappearo. IDK why I started to talk to him again as I know better. And truly I would've told him no. I pick TBH. I just wish I could see the man more. But you know what they say about familiarity. Still I must feel rejected on some level. But then my ego and confidence is fragile right now. I don't know if it's that need or if it's true, but think it's time for one guy. Do people over 50 do that? It seems the only way to meet folks is through non tradional means and morally I'm a pretty tradional girl. I feel as if I'm closer to 70 to say it, but I want companionship. Even more than sex. And I don't feel terribly sexual right now.
I did take a nap in my daughter's sunny room with the sun pouring on my face. I ate incredibly healthy when I could finally eat. Then I fixed the things I could with help. Hanging something. Liquid nailing some repairs. Tacos that my youngest now hates (Tacos again???) which is the best way to get multiple meals out of leftovers. I don't want to worry or work this hard to stretch. And it shouldn't be necessary. But due dates come and go and the expected becomes no longer something I can count on. So it's got to be me to take on more away from my children to make more so I control this more than someone I already know is not dependable.
This is a rant and a bit depressing today, but I'm trying to emply not just my head but a heart that aches. I will keep doing and using this negative energy to achieve things. But I remain a pretty unhappy camper.
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Struggling with the blues again this morn. I think it's just that I miss people. People mitigate whatever it is that I'm feeling. And the visual and auditory stimulation I appreciate. Yes, the new place is a haven. It's also VERY quiet. Add these cold to frigid days (hail this morning) and anything would feel like a cage. Top it with fiscal restraints and must do's that are singlarly lacking in rewards, well...you get the idea.
Thank heavens for TBH and the weekend. To know I'm capable of feeling something other than blue is a good thing. But truly I am crying at real and imagined scenarios. I'd make a great tragic actress now as I can turn on the waterworks by thinking about someone being kind to me or something awful happening to someone else. Empathy can be a good thing until you live in that state. I feel like I'm crying for everyone in pain today.
Now most people who know me now think of me as this level-headed analytical sort. IDK if I am. I know those skills are hard fought and took me a long time to learn. As a young woman all I did was FEEL after a rough childhood as a sensitive child. I think of myself as nearly pure emotion. But I do practice mindfulness, that word everyone is using these days. Sort of an internal dialogue. Okay I feel this. This is why. Or I'm not sure why. It's normal and I feel it in response to... I'm having these physical manisfestations. Are they appropriate or inappropriate to the stimulus? I suppose I distance myself from how and what I feel. For so long feeling equalled pain to me. And I think sometimes I'm still stuck there. I'm afraid to feel too much. But at least I know it. And I know I want relationships in my life that are going to affect me deeply. But the absence of them also has an effect. So I'd rather feel blue on occasion with someone I love than blue without them. The human condition.
I at least completed work despite my lack of focus. There is a positive hit of peace/relief in that.
I woke solo, slept in to the sound of hail hitting the roof. The cats must've known I needed rest and didn't start their morning "feed me" yowls. But I've worked from home in cat pjs and my Mr. Roger's sweater with a fancy museum scarf wrapped around my neck (so much for y'all who thought I was an elegant sort). Though the gift romantic interests unfailingly give me are fancy scarves from museum gift shopes. So maybe I have my moments.
I'm not truly sexy though. I wear mostly hiking pants in outdoor fabrics, travelers clothing, that make me acceptable in most restaurants. Plain clothing. The only things that stand out are my hair in some shade of red and my lips are full and usually painted in a bold color. There was a time I was sexy but not I don't want my clothing to get me too noticed or to get in the way of things I have to do. It's a uniform. But dressing for a party I don't go much further than finding some black panties and a bra, maybe some stockings, and some texurally interesting lingerie. I dont like being exposed despite what I do with my internal life here.
I wish I could find a contemporary male like me who would write his interior life for me to read. We don't know, y'all, how, when, and if men think about such things. It would be nice to know I'm not alone in my ponderings.
Pen
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I've gone back to previous haunts, ensconced in Starbucks. It's a big one, filled with others typing and reading away on their laptops. A surprising amount of men my own age though all are bearded or fuzzy as if they just rolled out of bed on a weekend. Several have that fuzz on the back of their necks which is when I take my sons in for new haircuts. Men love facial hair; women do not. But both agree it is a very masculine look. Unless it's a well trimmed goatee, I'm apt to click next. Even then, it's a sacrifice to my skin as kissing (and I do love kissing) a man with facial hair leaves my face scratched and raw.
Crawling into bed last night alone I had a pang for TBH. So odd to have him in my space. But a really really good idea. I haven't really entertained anyone and I wasn't sure how to. But he's an easy sort and makes himself at home wherever he goes. Or at least he does when he's with me. He has an interesting face, a little craggy and he's too thin but he would not agree. But it's his grin that appeals most, which appears often. He's generous and expressive with his smile. Ours is not the most passionate of connections, but I have never been with a man I've enjoyed more. He's teaches me perspective and opens my world to new and wonderful experiences as he's mostly fearless. I can push aside fear, but I'm often too polite to just go for things sometimes.
I can't say I've totally shaken the blues though TBH was good medicine indeed. It IS hormonal related though I've learned which helps to explain my resting state of near tears. Warmth, connection and contact is the cure I know. And blessedly my house is full of children again after their weekend with their dad. My daughter leaning against me on the couch last night, the scent of her curls against my shoulder...felt as if all was well with the world. That's what those children bring to me. And my before dawn wakeup cheffing for them is something I look forward to as much as they do. I wish I could be a stay at home mom more as truly it has been both the best and hardest part of my life. I was moving some boxes still to be put away and just pulled out an odd photo or two. One was of me in the big kitchen in the old house, pj'ed and uncombed, with a baby on my shoulder. I was looking at my other two toddler at a tiny table set up with their breakfast in the kitchen with one of those kids' kitchens in the corner behind them. My eyes had dark circles under them as the sleepless of us who care for babies do. And I thought, OMG, how did I DO that? I wasn't young when I had mine. And I wasn't well prepared. Nor did I have a supportive husband. A husband, yes, but he wasn't home much and certainly paid me no attention. But despite exhaustion, being overwhelmed, and unappreciated, it was a beautiful time too. I still can't believe those small forms have become these beautiful people. But they have always been loved and always will be and won't have the doubt I grew up with. And I did a good, possibly great job, that continues. What this all amounts to is to remind y'all what you've heard a thousand times. Stay-at-home moms have the hardest job in the world. And I've done both. But leaving my business and being able to stay with those children as long as I did was and will always be the best I've ever done. So look at the women (and men) who do the same in your life and remind them how amazing they are. And give them time for a nap as well as those valentine's flowers in a few weeks.
Heavens, I write and I tear up. I think and I tear up. And I'm not precisely unhappy or even sad. Perhaps a little wistful, but I grin and tear up when I close my eyes and can put myself back into moments from this weekend with TBH. Happy. But there are things I need that I can't achieve at the moment. And there are serious issues ahead. I'm a woman who has learned not to procrastinate. Got something to do or a problem? Just do it. Otherwise I'll think and think and think and drive myself mad. It's never my intent, but that is the way of my brain...always working. That's why you find me here writing an epistle so many days.
Be well folks. Wish me a little peace.
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What an interesting weekend. I let TBH in to my little haven. Now I'm not a natural hostess or socially adept. Though there are times in my life that I've faked it very well, the whole time with butterfies in my stomach feeling utterly out of my depth. Fake it till you make it. Well...there's some truth to that. I was convinced he wouldn't show though we'd played with the idea of him journeying this wey. But I'll give the man this, he follows through. The long lean length of him didn't invade or feel awkward, but then we've always been surprisingly easy with each other.
He stayed the weekend. And at times I found it baffling that the man I'd imagined in my bed actually was in my space. The places I'd found that I wanted to so much to experience with him, we did. My fav restaurant with their wondrous margies. A cool business owned by a muscian to share with him. Live music in small venues in Asbury Park. Showing him the town and the coast and the beauty of my corner of the world.
It wasn't really kinky except for a bite or two. And I did catch my hair on fire. Truly. You know I've been craving staying in on a cold night, with great conversation, drinking a tad too much wine and just enjoying connection. A warning. If you're going to light candles, don't laugh so hard you lean back and catch your hair on fire. The scent of singed hair is not conducive to romance. But can be a great source for endless jokes about how "fires me up," or how "enflamed" I am for him... Ha! Blessedly I'm quick. Not harm and. You can't even tell. But I've moved the candles to Penny-proof the room.
Aside from his company and the pleasure of sharing my bed with him, snores and all, we have an interesting effect on each other. I think we both learn and experience new things. He's intrepid. More so than I even. My fail safe is politeness. He's a mannerly guy, but he's also one who like to poke folks. He may open a door for me, but pat my ass discretely as I enter.
I keep hearing his voice saying "I want to be inside of you". In my head. OMG. And yes, he was. And yes, he's lovely. And yes, I write this still filled with his cum. This morning we rested post after he'd filled me doggy style. He behind me, his cock still inside plugging the cum from running down my ass and thighs. Darlings, there's nothing so hot as that. I came again from just the stretch of my pussy filled with him. No movement, just mindfulness of that different stretch and his heat filling me. But all the circle of my pussy lips could feel was his girth keeping me open for him. I came just from that sensation.
He's vocal. Dirty in bed. It's such a turn on. This morning I held down his hands above his head as I straddled him from above, running the lips of my wetness along his hardness. And when he told me he needed to be inside of me, I told him no. I like his taste to, particularly when he tastes of me. On some level, as attachment wary as I am, I want to possess a man. The taste of me on him feels as if I do, even though I recognize the illusion. So too do I want to be owned sexually at times (hell, often). To me a man filling me with his cum gives me a primal sense of possession. That he owns my pussy. I want him to just take me and fill me and use me hard.
But this weekend was less about sex than just chilling with someone I like. In some ways I think the way we enjoy exploring new places and seeking experiences supersedes our sexual pursuits. I really am less driven sexually and more about the quality of the total interaction rather than just getting to the fuck. Tucked up to a little table together with his margie and my cocacola, surrounded by hipsters and our chins on our hands, we were both grinning at the energy of the performace on stage. He's just easy to be with. And we don't get too many folks in our lives who are easy to be with. I've always been of the opinion that is how it should be.
When you play tour guide to a smart guy, he can change your perspective of your own world and encourage you to go to places you just don't see anymore because familiarity has bred blindness. I may have found some new sanctuaries apart from my little haven here to explore. He is so much fun. And I'm grateful.
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Still fighting the blues and tears. I'm struggling with issues I thought dealt with and over, and still need to somehow come up with a retainer for still another attorney when rainy funds have been decimated. Too much rain. And I think I feel so beaten down that when the sun comes out I'm too wary to move. Not good. Though people are being kind. I'm out of my depth with a new endeavor, filled with folks more experienced than I. When we introduced ourselves and discussed our backgrounds, my last career seemed exciting to many though it was in a dying industry. I forget I do have skills as I begin to learn new ones with people who are all more skilled than I. They're kind though. I'm honest. I admit how intimidated by the roomful of more skilled folks than I am. A lovely woman from the team behind mine reached out to remind me that I can do things they can't. And that is true. The belief that what happens is meant to has been something I've held to for a long time. But I supposed I expected the other side of so much hard stuff to remain peaceful and that I'd have more control than I feel I have. And somehow I thought I'd be more appealing than I think I am. A 52 yr old divorced woman with children, however wonderful they may be, is so limited by what she can do. I can't really travel for any length of time other than long weekends. I have to pay close attention to money and time. I have an ex who creates stress despite being an ex. My body isn't as young or fit as it likely should be, even for 52. And I'm lonely as hell. My energy has always been my light, that thing that made me shine but it feels as if it's shuttered now. Perhaps it's partly that I feel pretty out of touch with my sexual self since I'm not indulging regularly. I know my tactile self is starving, even a massage right now would help. But luxuries must wait. Just facing another cold weekend solo makes me sad, though I don't know that I have the wherewithal to actually do anything. I'll work of course; there's much to be done there. And I'll see my elderly friend. But it's hard to even talk of the stressors without sounding as I do here...but no one really wants me it seems and I suppose I'm a woman who needs to be wanted. I just find far too many folks aren't who they pretend to be, lack that essential moral compass that remains important to me, or set you up for expectations they have no intention of meeting. I end up not liking people much, though I know better. I'n just having trouble shaking it. I'll write this weekend for work...none of it fun, so I'll make it productive and if I don't procrastinate, I expect I'll feel better for it on Sunday. I wish my policy had behavioral health coverage, this would be a good time to talk to a pro and maybe sort out the transitions that have defined the past year and figure out why I'm having such a hard time coping. My girl tells me none of these current pressure are actually my fault and she's right. But it's still up to me to solve it. And there aren't any good solutions. Sigh.
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I've grown blue and I can't seem to shake it. There are stressors and I'm barely staying ahead of the wave, but it's more than that. I feel very alone. My confidence is at a low even though I know I have more capability than I currently feel. And I'm seeing myself somehow lesser. My thoughts are sad and my cynicism is high. I'm hoping it's primarily hormonal fluctuations. But as I face still another solo weekend where I'll work to try to make it somewhat valuable, I just don't feel good. Budget prevents me from saying fuck it and heading to NYC for tea and a museum though I need it. Ah well, if I'm going to feel like crap, I might as well tackle crap jobs like paperwork still to be sorted including ones from the divorce that can go into the shred box. This lovely little place is beginning to feel like a nunnery and I like a dried up grumpy girl.
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The Professor asked me to brunch tomorrow. I've grown frustrated with him. I know, I know...I said I didn't want to date him in the first place, but I had a "give it a try moment" when we had dinner last. But you have to think if I said no to him twice before there must've been a reason. He tries every week or so to ask me out. Usually for a day I can't make. But he hasn't ever asked me outright when I AM available so I keep saying no. I suppose I should leave the kiddos and go on a date, but I'd rather not leave them alone when I don't have to. And there's something weird about a guy who reaches out every week or so who doesn't continue the conversation via text or otherwise. It's just not what I need. I need some regularity in my interactions. Not everyday, but don't we all need some indication we are more than an afterthought?
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Clearly I'm undergoing a bit of shift in what I want, but I do know regular sex is generally good for my temperment and meets those tactile needs I have so strongly. I got back on that horse over the weekend and really forced myself to go to a party. Yes, one of THOSE parties! But since the last one wasn't to my taste, I had decided boundaries this time. Men who wanted to touch were permitted a zone, lower than the tops of my stockings and above the neckline of my lingerie. They push as they always do...those I whacked with a spatula my host gave me for the purpose. So I'll admit it, I love hitting men, especially spanking asses.
Fortunately there were enough women at the party to make it sociable for me. Otherwise I feel like a piece of meat among slavering wolves. There's something to just being in the same room with women who are unabashedly sexual, open and accepting that feels like a benign sisterhood.
Younger men who play with older women seem to have this grocery list in their heads. They do whatnot to seduce us. Then inevitably it's "ride me" or "suck my cock." Darling I'm at a party to be ridden hard, not to ride you. And I'll suck a cock if it's attached to a guy I like, really like, who is a giver and not someone just waiting for me to work my way through his list. But these guys love it when they're told no. They ask for my number and try to get together. But I don't want to even if I had the time.
Maybe a young guy sure is lovely to look at and can fuck over and over. But they lack grace. I have always been attracted to men older than I. Dating mid 40s men when I was in my 20s until they'd settle down and buy a house trying to trap me there with them. Then I'd leave town...literally. I've always been a sucker for a bit of sophistication, wit, manners, and skill in the bedroom. Of course now I complain that that older man is now an OLD man and that won't do. But it's time I got over myself. I'm not a young woman myself, however unwrinkled my face. 11 years older than I has always been my sweet spot.
Today I realized my ex turned 55 recently when my children asked how old he was. I was astonished that he's now a senior. And it brought it home that I'm not that far behind...he wasn't amused when I suggested a nice little house in an adult community...I find the notion appealing myself, but of course I have children at home so I can't. I like grownups. I like conversation that is not pompous, but real and enlightening and a bit unfiltered.
And yes, I had sex at the party. On my terms. Safe of course. But the real benefit I get besides orgasms is the ego boost plain and simple. It's lovely to be the center of a group, making them laugh. Or to have men offer up their ass to me to spank. One asked me if I was a "regular." I asked my host since I can go months without showing up if I were. He responded, "you're not a regular; you're an insider." Lovely. And that of course is part of the appeal...we're like a family who get each other in a way. An incestuous one maybe (and don't read anything into that; I have no tolerance for such). But I do like the group.
And then when I was leaving, one the men who I just talked to, didn't even fuck...said "Penny, what I enjoy about you is that you're like the coworker every guy wants to fuck."Yes, words like that touch this middle aged dame. I was able to chat with an extreme sports guys into board sports who couldn't believe how cool I was when I brought up custom Vans. I didn't mention he reminded me of my youngest son...And no I did not fuck him.
The young ones...well, I think I now know for sure to stay away from them. No grace. They don't get basics. If youre inviting a girl over for the first time, turn on all the lights, wait at the door, have wine, talk first...Seduce her for heavens sake even if fucking is a foregone conclusion. I was free this evening and drove to a potential hookup. 50 minutes each way to my old haunt when I had a cuck. But he didn't make the effort, clueless young man. I texted him and he still didn't get it though he eventually apologized for not making me comfortable as he should have. I changed my mind and never even went in and drove the 50 minutes back home. Funny that a little dark chococate with pistachios and single malt are my choice over that beautiful young thing.
I want to kiss. I want a man I want to kiss more than I want to fuck him. I want the sound of his voice to be better than fucking him. I would love a proper bedtime story from a rumbly male voice tucked in next to me; it's the most comforting of all. And I want our conversation to become something I crave. Mind you, I want him to be superman (even a one round superman ) in the sack. But I want to want the man first. But I think until he enters my life (and I'm certain he will), I'll keep going to the parties and be Penny the sex maven. That's my superpower you know.
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Hmmm...I almost don't recognize myself. Who is this woman who is not pursuing several possibilities of sex? I think I'm turning into a regular girl rather than my usual nympho libido levels. Not that regular girls don't like to fuck. But a great many of them like to fuck men they care about rather than just any old decent cock. Or new decent cock. I may be lazy. For once my life isn't quite so HARD though right now is a challenge.
Part of me wants to be lazy and stay the status quo, peace and all that. The effort and awkwardness of being with anyone the first time doesn't appeal. Being with the same old doesn't appeal. Perhaps I read too many books with a romantic substory over break. I want to want the man. Not just grin and bear him to get some cock. I want banter. Wrestling. Laughter. Affection. Tenderness. While at the same time I want to be used hard. But you get one without the other and it's just not there for me. I'm not gonna break. But so too I'm a woman and I want a guy to go all alpha on me in bed on occasion. Okay most of the time.
Friday night is nearly singles night at Whole Foods. If I wasn't shy I'd maybe approach some of those guys composing their dinners at the hot foods bar. I'm doing the same thing after all. But making the first move is something I've never been able to do. I can be encouraging, but nope. You'd think I'd be at the "fuck it" age by now. In some ways yes. But there's still a rather traditionally valued girl at heart here, despite my explorations.
Home to odd and ends from WF's, another silent night, and candles galore. As beautiful as it is here, it is too quiet for me. I miss the noisy road of the old house. Always someone around. Here it's utterly silent. Though there were quacks in the backyard as I arrived home. I would not be happy in the country. I'm not particularly happy in suburbia even with the coastal characterization of this place. Put me in an apartment with a deck on Main Street and I'd do better. People to watch. Noises to wake me. Grabbing breakfast or a drink from a place I can walk to. Eventually I'll likely settle there. Ungrateful wench I am.
My chiropractor released some of the pent up stress in my body today and I continued it with yoga at home. I don't even need to drink more than mineral water this evening. But it's so dull I may just go to bed now. I rejoined a sex site in an effort to get my mojo back, but IDk that I even want to respond.
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I could fuck a host of strangers and a few lifestylers I know well should I choose to this weekend. Sigh...but it's not strangers I want to fuck. Now I'm not looking for a new husband either. The cold weekends combined with my own propensity for connection have me wanting more. I would love simply having a conversation in bed. Naked would be even better. I've been spending so much solo time here that the felines have begun to bond more to me than their respective child. They're lovely company, graceful and just gorgeous, and I could tell them all my secrets...but they aren't gonna talk back.
I need stimulation. I'll have it should I spend the weekend working, which is what I just may do. But given a choice, I'd pick a weekend in bed coming up for air and fluid when necessary. The shower here is tall and roomy and I've never shared it with anyone. Ah well, that seems the way of it..when I do have time there's no one to share it with. And when I don't have the time, I get all sorts of invitations I have to turn down. It drives me mad.
I'm past due for a weekend lost in carnality and kink.
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Challenging, today. But I need to remember there are solutions to my problems. Not everyone is so fortunate. Though it's stressful and my body is feeling its anxiousness in places from head to toe. Touch would soothe right now. A massage would be divine, but I can't afford that luxury since my cash flow is headed back into Apple's coffers. But some tools we need to work and that's one of them. I feel it though.
It's tight financially. And so is my body at present. My ex used to called me a "squirrel" as I'd squirrel away a back up and a back up for my back up when it came to the household. My Gran taught me well. Never fly without a net. So I did into my Gran's recipes for stretching things. And tricks I used ages ago...like the classic French dijon vinagrette I made back in the 80s when nouvelle cuisine and all things French were vogue. You can put that vinagrette on just about anything and it tastes good as I did this evening. Time to defrost my tucked away rainy day supplies and prepare more rather then buy pre-prepped. This is, even downsized, a house of comfort, and there are ample resources even if I'm uncomfortable using my backups. It's that proverbial rainy day.
I would love to fuck, to escape. And this feeling reminds me why I was so driven to do just that in the past. I needed escape and fucking beats out the standards of drinking or less healthy options. I may hit a party for lack of a better choice at present. Dating and getting to know folks seems to take weeks and weeks. And I haven't the patience for it. I'd rather just meet and yay or nay it from there. I remember a few times I felt like this in the past and friends would pull me away and out and get me moving elsewhere for the weekend. But I've been too protective of this space and of myself to let anyone too far in, so I'll solo my way through. This IS just temporary. But I'm not sleeping at all well. And my spine feels fused. Tomorrow I begin a new project, so I'm just putting one foot in front of the other at present.
Late this afternoon, a great blue graced the end of the yard. Tides have been running high, so I expect the fishes have moved to the shallows. Generally they're so cautious when observed, but he didn't know I was watching. Glorious creatures with those long long legs. Though it was frigid so his long neck was tucked deep into his plumage and he was as puffed out as I'ver ever seen a heron before. He was exquisite. See that's the stuff that priceless. Pure beauty.
Wine has me drowsy though in my current mood a depressant is the last thing I need. Please oh please, let something just work soon. Endless mess ups it seems at present...
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It's me time. Solo. Though Darling Dom and I had dinner this evening. We confessed that we both needed to get out as this weather isn't conductive to boardwalking. I wonder sometimes if it's dating I miss so much or it's just sharing dinner and conversation. Of course I do just that with my family. And their interests are varied and intelligent, so dinner conversation can run the gamut. But talking about history and bullshit and relationships and venting are things you need to do with friends who get you and where you came from. He has plans for change and a long term commitment to a woman who at long last appreciates him as he should be. He's a good good guy.
We talked how, as frustrating as this forum can be here with glitches, we've both met the most people here before as collarme and now as collarspace. Some ended up great friends. A few relationships as I learned D/s and what's what in the rocky road world of kink. Master/slave no way no how. Bondage, yessss...please tie me up. Hurt you? I'd rather not. Fuck your ass? Welllll...I have...It's not my fav...but if you really need it...Blindfold you, bind you, and sensually torture you while I whisper filth in your ear...now that, darlings, is me. That while you hear the tap tap of my heels and I look at you tied and vulnerable and decide how I can make you gasp next. I've been saving my fancy stockings as they get runs. One man may be lucky enough to be tied to the bed with those. I have one in mind but it'll take an invitation into his world to bring him mine. I am trustworthy and kind when I don't fuck up...and I take very good care of who's mine.
But then I do want to be taken care of too. Mostly I want to be pushed against a wall, a thigh opening mine and he reaches down to feel the wetness through my panties. Kissed, deep and hard and delicious til I'm panting for him. I want my head held between his hands as he kisses me and calls me his delicious fuck toy. And I want to be pushed on the bed, grabbed by the neck, and fucked hard and deep and rough. I want to scream in orgasm. And I want it to be so hot he's afraid they heard us the next down over.
Sigh...these are thoughts that come to me with a full belly, tucked in with cats at either end of the sectional. Add a dim lamp and candles everywhere and well my romantic side comes out. Of course my romantic side isn't so much candles and flowers though I appreciate both more than you can imagine. But rather it's lets wallow in kink and take each other on an adventure. When I fall in love, it will be with a man's spirit and the way he lives his life over anything more transitory.
Tonight without children in the house I'll sleep naked on the fleece sheets. I'm beginning to think I liked sex so much for the tactile input even more than the o's. My libido is still here. But it doesn't clamor so much anymore. And that low hum of it is gone. But oh, I would love to be seduced.
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Well my technology is still fucked. But thank heavens for darling Dom's patience and my hidden stash of gift cards to pick up an external drive for the back up. I am so grateful for my friend. No matter how busy he is, he is there when his friends need him. He has at last found someone who adores him as he should be adored and I dont see him as ften as when we were both single. But he deserves so much love even though I miss our tea and technology til midnight evenings. Life does change on us. Yay! We'll do dinner tomorrow!
A higher tide than usual today and bits of the geese flock stayed close instead of their usual travels. In the midst was an oddball. The children and I puzzled it out...an Egyptian goose. Look them up. Cool creature. Anecdotal tales tell of escapees from Great Adventure's safari in Jackson. But it's more likely they escaped from a zoo or private collection. I'm a big aviary chick myself...love them. I wish there were one closer like in my hometown or even a great big greenhouse; this girl needs a little heat and green.
I do, however, feel much better. Still expensive problems to solve ahead. Let's hope things get back on course. I've been thinking a lot about money. How generally I avoid discussing it and have truly not enjoyed the necessity of it. Like many folks, I've bought into the root of all evil biz. But financial resources mean freedom. Look at money as the way to freedom and it changes that whole relationship. I'd like to be a whole lot freer.
I do have a lovely family, and three blessed days with them whatever the hiccups are a gift. I get lonely being the solo adult. And this little house isn't as private as I'd like though we each have our own space and I have a door that locks. Still it's good I dislike talking on the phone usually since what I say is largely public when they are here. I can't imagine having sex here when the house is full. But then that's not likely to happen anytime soon. There is always music...
I'm craving a run away...I need escape. For a coffee and teahouse haunter like myself, I've found the local Dunkin my new place since I've extra giftcards and things are tight. Free internet. More folks who meet and talk a bit too loud, but hell, at least I can do something. Some folks don't have options and I remember when mine were very very few. This is temporary. I have to remember that.
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Worries haunted my dreams and woke me far too early with wet cheeks. It's been a long time since I've allowed night terrors to populate my dreams. It was a tough night. For stupid reasons. There are a few possessions I'm inordinately attached to...like my Macbook and ipad. Now the ipad already has a crack but a glass overlay and it's functional, hopefully for some time to come. There aren't any cheap macbooks, so that investment took a hit last night, literally. The display of paperweights perched on my windowsill...well one fell onto the Macbook. The ouchy it left is going to cost me at a time of financial famine. I was in tears. And I get into this cycle of blame that is kind of a wake up, but it's almost innate, so I'm not sure how to eradicate it.
I have this notion in my head when things go wrong, I'm being punished. For things I've done wrong. Only I don't really live a live of immorality. Nor do I harm people. I try, actually, to do good things. Certainly at times I've done bad. There are debts it took me a long time to pay and a few outstanding now. There were things I made right. When I make a mistake, I admit it and take the hit. I apologize and try to make it right. I help widows and old men with canes. I return calls. As much as I want to kick my fucktard ex in the balls, I don't. And my chidlren are loved and cared for even though there's much I wish I could give them in experiences and adventures that I can't.
The big long standing relationships in my life, spanning decades, have been dysfunctional, but we could all say that. My mother bore me at 17 and blamed me for all wrong in her life as long as I had a relationship with her. In someways my marriage fell into the pattern of that...feast or famine with love and financial health...inconsistent, unsecure, and I remained the scapegoat. Back then I believed it must have been me at the root of all that was fucked up in the relationships. I wanted too much time, too much attention, too much love...and all their stressors they claimed were because of how demanding I was.
Yeah, I know, fuck them. And so I learned to leave toxic folks behind. But in doing so, you slim down those you allow to be close to you. It's easier and healthier in someways. But it's lonelier too. Only so many can fit in a protected little safe room of a life you make. It's not that simple of course. I have quite a few lovely extended relationships in various forms. But when I have a night like last I don't call anyone. I self-analyze. I get up. I try to do and solve. And try to understand in an effort to make it more tolerable. Of course as I write, tears just pour down my face. Cathartic this.
I try very very hard to stay in the present. Now I have some plans in place for all that stuff we are supposed to. Retirement though I'm unlikely to retire. But there are many things IDK how I'm going to manage if I look too far ahead and think of all the possibilities. Like what happens if I get sick. And folks, we all get sick eventually. But that could be 30 or more years aways and I'll go mad if I worry all the time about every possible eventuality. But my natural tendency is to always plan and be ready for whatever comes...if I hadn't adjusted my outlook I'd be anxious and worried all the time instead of one night at a time of financial stress.
My daughter said to me that sometimes things just happen. It's no one's fault. These things simply happen. And nothing that I'm dealing with at present is really on me, but I take the blame anyway. As if always it's something lacking in me or something I screwed up to account for things not working out.
Now I know this is a better forum for sex and my carnal darker side. But this a dark side too and I want to record it so I remember what I do and how I think at times when I'm not thinking particularly well. I woke before the geese this morning and have been watching them slowly get moving. I sat with my budget and these issues and somehow figured it out. I managed Christmas and most of December's bills with half my normal income. I need to work more even though it increases expenses. Thank heavens for the hugs of my core group and these beautiful children. I probably could do with some screaming o's too (there, just a tiny bit of sex) and a good sexual escape. Too much reality on frigid days is just too hard.
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Up early which is not my preference on a Saturday, having worked too many weekends when I had my own biz. But today I was rewarded. The tide was rushing in, pools of water on the lower lawn, when a Great Blue coasted his way along the water about 10 feet off the surface. They're magnificent creatures, more so when they're unselfconscious and don't realize they are being observed. It's like they unfold more into all that gorgeous length instead of having to be coiled and hyper tense, ready to lift off should an observer come too close.
Maybe a new possibility. The thing is with so many of the men I am contacted by these days, I think most of them would make tremendous friends to hang with. But of course they are seeking love and all that. I suppose I am too but my definition of a relationship is less invasive than most of theirs. Sure I'd want to spend time together, but I'm not looking to live with anyone ever. I love the idea of being neighbors should it come to that, but each with out own space and visiting privileges. It probably sounds better than it is as my ex and I somehow ended up with separate bedrooms in the same house with visiting privileges and that was just sad. And very lonely. But given that, and the time that has elapsed since I've ever really spent extended time with a guy...well, I think I've lost the skill.
I spend the night and I like it. Well with perhaps two men in the past year. But I don't always know what to do, where to put my body, when to touch and when not to. So I generally just do what I want to and it is what it is. But sometimes it feels decidedly awkward. And then you get that moment or two when a sleepy man curls his arm around your hip and pulls you into him...my whole body sighs and smiles. So there must be some romance, some give, in me. But at times I truly feel clueless.
I do miss conversation. Cuck and I talk well and honestly. The man does know me. Or the part of me that remains from when we were together. And he embraces what some would call my dark side. We all are here to find an outlet for that side of us that we perceive as less acceptable given our lifestyle's mores. A good girl myself, a rule follower for most of my life, it's so freeing to be carnal and raw and naughty. I've been called a class act, though writing that makes me less so. It make the profane words that come from my mouth in the midst of fucking that much hotter I think. I find the same with a certain type of man. Not that I want to be called a whore or a slut. But being told graphically how I feel and what he wants to do to me when all I want is his cock inside of me takes me right to the edge and well past it. There's not much that's hotter than that. Well except I suppose sharing cum.
I have a cum fetish. Now I don't indulge it much. And much like I have no desire to blow every nice cock I see, I don't want just any guy's cum. I have to want him and more than physically. He's got to get into my brain and body. And yes, darlings, he needs to be clean. I hate condoms but I have a drawer full and I don't want a cock even poking around or sliding on my wetness without one usually. My fantasies include being filled so full of cum that it just pours out of me when I sit up, coats my thighs when I walk. Sometimes I think an ideal relationship would be a man who would fill me in the morning and send me naughty texts now and then throughout the day. What does it do? Besides the forbidden aspect to it, it's like he's part of me all day. That's hot. And there's a kind of possession to it. Like being owned and marked in a primitive way. It's base and raw and very real.
Of course I also have extensive fantasies of sharing cum. Of him filling me then licking and sucking it out of me and deeply kissing me. And there are multiple men fantasies, but those will stay just that I can't imagine there being more than one guy whose cum I truly want swimming around in me at the same time. Well...actually...that's hot. But I think it's a better thought than execution.
So yes, these are the thoughts a girl-next-door non-soccerish mom has on her Saturday in a house filled with her children and their friends as she takes down the tree. Such an interesting dichotomy.
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Showering today with the window open, looking out at the mist rising from the water...it's a London kind of day at the shore. Our usual winter weather at last...cold, but not too cold, grey and fog. The new digs have more evergreen plants and rhododendrons, so aside from looking a little droopy in extreme cold, it's rather nice. Though with the snowmelt the back yard is a bit of a soupy bog.
The point of this is, I'm in shower thinking about cock. Blow jobs specifically. How I don't really have a desire to give a bj per se. I go to a party and see a beautiful cock and I really have no desire to taste it. But...and it's a big BUT...when I feel a connection I want a man's cock in my mouth. I want to taste all of him. Let's talk someone like TBH for example. Despite the man thinking I only want him for his cock, I'm going there. It's beautiful. Circumsized. And yes, it's not small. He's well groomed so there isn't a forest to deal with (the single biggest block, boys, to a woman wanting to put her mouth on your junk). I could spend days gratuitously fondling his cock and balls (and the rest of him, scars and all). If I were to close my eyes and think of him, my lips swell and tingle with the desire to get my mouth on him. It's never the blowjob I want, or truly if it comes down to it, the cock. It's the man. That's hard for some to understand when I'm so damn raunchy and objectify men into cock size. It's bullshit darlings, and just talk. A way to distance myself from feeling at times.
There's another time I crave cock in my mouth. When a man is giving. If he is physically passionate and is all in to please me, well there's nothing more exciting to a woman. I am fair and equitable. If he's had his tongue in and on me, chances are I want to reciprocate and change up the power differential. Hmmmm...just closed my eyes and thought of TBH tied to a chair while I had the luxury of teasing his cock and balls; that's almost worth a trip. We'll see if he ever forgives me and invites me over. I miss him. And brave me; I told him so the other day. Yep, I broke. There's something about him. I'm still trying to keep my distance as it's really up to him to approach at this point, but nothing ventured nothing gained. And truly what do I have to lose? A little ego? Fuck ego.
But since that is in some no man's land, that relationship, I'll keep trying on my vanilla dating site here. I did hear back from the Professor. And I'll admit, he's attractive and I am drawn inexorably towards a brilliant man. I haven't dated too many of them since they intimidate me. But it's not a bad thing to be able to impress a woman with your mind...particularly me since I'm truly a mind fuck. It would be slow and romantic I expect should I continue. I'm not very romantic and find such gestures usually suspicious. Awful no? I'm always wondering if they cheated and it's misplaced angst? Or what they want from me? Or the usual...that they are just using me a generic woman to fit an empty space in their lives without ever actually seeing ME. I'm not the easiest to know. I've done a lot. I talk like a smart a@@. I've compartmentalized a ton. And for a girl who was all romance in my youth, I expect I might be mistaken for a butch lesbian in attitude at least these days. There's a masculine energy to me in my get things done way. But I'm trying hard to get that girl back since I think that might be my way to love. But I'm such a contrary puss...
Pen
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My tree is still exquisite though I know it's time to take it down and let public works turn it into mulch. I'm finding a wee dram of scotch a lovely accompaniment pouring out my words here. I have a few antique colored glass snifters left from the old place that I moved here. Not that I ever used them much, but they are just too lovely to leave behind. I remember once I had Baccarat ones from my wedding. They made music when you toasted, but I could never see spending a hundred bucks a glass when the last one finally broke to replace them. Who does that? I did keep the All Clad pots and fancy English china as much as I was going to just trash everything from the marriage. But the times my ex ate a meal from them was far outstripped by the times my children and I did that those memories outshone the times he didn't show up with he table set and candles alit. Now I light candles for me...tonight there are 8 since I've replenished my supply and realized I have a surplus from the boxes I unpacked. The diffuser tonight is orange and clove oil...a holiday scent but anti-inflammatory and wonderful.
I texted the Prof a thank you for driving all the way down here for dinner last night. I was a bit less pleasing to him than in the past. I ate meat. And wore my scarf with alpaca fur...though no alpacas were harmed...I did on the way out comment on a leather covered coat tree with a zipper...something about it reminding one of kink. That mention grabbed him a bit but he needed the evening very early I thought so expect I offended him. Though I say I don't want to date him as our differing lifestyles would make the notion fraught. And revisiting the disaster of whatever sexual hangups had him afraid to fuck is something I'd prefer not to go to. He does have a lovely smile. But he's 63. Normally 11 years older than I is perfect. But most 63 yr old boomers are pretty set in their ways and someone like me just would upset the applecart. Or I'd fall in line and end up feeling bored and trapped. Such a great smile though and he projects such positivity at first.
Hell, I'll admit it. I'm lonely. I'm susceptible. But I was thinking of maybe joining a meet up group or some such to find some folks to enjoy live music with and connection/conversation. it doesn't have to be sexual. I do think my libido is changing. It's still there. And I remain a lot of fun with a partner who doesn't find a multi-orgasmic squirter icky or too much work. But I don't need it. I just want it.
And contrary me, I send out a Hey TBH text to him last night as really that connection was so good. And as much as I think wanting him is not in my best interest, the man gave me butterflies. That's no so easy to do with a woman as lacking in romance as I am....Well we are likely both too stubborn to reply so it'll remain a stand off. Sigh. It's time I did some hard work I've been avoiding but it'll shake me out of this funk that has me wanting more. I have much. I best learn to be happy with what I do have and stop wanting what I don't.
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Sometimes I truly don't know what's up with me. A date tonight. A perfectly lovely one. I LIKE the Professor. The vegan thing annoys me. Now TBH is gluten free and that annoys me vaguely too, but too often he shows me up since his gluten free choices are sometimes better than my omnivore ones. So okay anyone who voluntarily limits his choices in a world filled with glorious options makes me say WTF...But I had pork and fish where as usually I would go veggie out of respect for his choices. I'm done remaking myself so he (whoever he turns out to be) will like me. I've always played to my date, not consciously but I learned young to remake myself into who someone else needed me to be. When I was a child it was a self protective skill skill. Now it's just leftover. I admitted it to my friends that I did that with D, and they all yelled at me why? I just never realized it before until I got tired of being who I perceived they wanted and would walk.
My liquor collection still has a bottle of BC's fav bourbon and CW's fav single malt. IDK why. Tonight I came home from my date and opened the single malt. Now I know why. CW always did have stellar taste and Balvenie double wood is lovely stuff. It's only 10 pm and I'm home solo and happy to spend the rest of my evening typing here to y'all over getting naked with some one else. I wish the Prof and I could just be lovely friends. I went dutch on dinner. I never do that. I buy or we take turns. Feels weird like I'm in high school. Still it was a new restaurant for me and I had a great little margarita.
We would make lovely friends. Our lifestyles are too different and I just don't want to fuck him. I don't want to be naked with him. And he's very attractive. He's too submissive perhaps for me or too cheap or has too many fears. I'll admit I prefer a bull to a mouse. But he's brilliant if a little too proud of himself and his qualifications. But given his advanced degrees and where he got them I suppose he should be. So okay, as much as a snob I admit I can be sometimes, I cannot bear men who find themselves impressive. I had enough of pompous men with BC. I think I like smart men, but not intellectuals. I want to learn from a partner, but not be patronized or fathered. And that becomes an issue with men a decade or so older than my current 52...men 60 plus seem to take on a paternal attitude with me and I hate it.
Except TBH. That man was the most boyish 63 yr old I've ever met. I do miss that connection. Dating again brings to the forefront just how rare it is to have that connection, that ease...and I wanted to touch and fuck the man incessantly. I think my libido is a bit more restrained these days, but I expect one snarky comment with that grin of his would make me want to strip him bare. I may have to reach out to him again as much as I said I wouldn't. He's a special guy to me. And I was the one who blew it.
I did it again BTW. Missent a text. This one to my ex went to a group of moms. About payment of some medical expenses and the necessity because he missed his December support payment. Embarrassing. I responded with an OOOPS. And apologies for TMI. Then laughed it off saying at least there was no profanity. This is why I like my contemporaries....they responded..."profanities welcomed here!" Ha ha ha....But I didn't hurt anyone's feelings like I did TBH. It still upset me that I did. I like(d) that man. It makes me teary missing him and heaven knows I don't do feeling to much well at all without trying to stop.
The scotch is great. I should've opened the fancy bottle sooner. And so are y'all reading my bs...it's so quiet and peaceful here...I can hear the train go by and the geese give an occasional honk bedded on the back creek. I did light candles though better watch blowing them out if I keep going with the scotch...my breath might catch fire like a circus performer.
It's still good to be home and warm, sleeping cats like bookends on the arms of the sectional couch. I've been baking a fresh loaf of banana nut bread like my Gran used to do each night for the children's breakfast. I'm thinking Scotch and a half slice of that just might do for dessert, gluten and all. And nope, there's no warm male body nearby unless you count the tomcat and he's not allowed in me bed. There are no angles to stroke, no sandpapery face to kiss, no frisson of awareness, and no hard cock. There could be, but I want sometime different and more that what would do before. Maybe he'll visit me in my dreams...
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A dinner date plus last night. I spent the whole day and evening before feeling like it was the last thing I wanted to do. Ungrateful beyotch me. Really it was a lovely idea but his idea of a good time brought out my snobbishness which I like to pretend doesn't exist. A chain restaurant at a local mall...okay, so that's not my idea of a date, but more dinner with the kids. And a crowded Saturday night...I'd make reservations. Men out there, are you gritting your teeth yet? That's what I was thinking, right or wrong...the latter I admit.
Now I like this guy. And I've known him for several years from the parties. We've played and he's very fond of me. If he lived closer, he'd want to date date. He's wanted to get me to himself for years and well...he asked me out for a celebratory dinner that we finally got around to. He's not a guy I want to date date. Our backgrounds and lifestyles are a too dissimilar and I'm really not all that attracted to him physically though he has stellar skills at foreplay. But I am so fond of him and there's no way I'd leave him in the lurch despite my preferences earlier.
Like so many times, just doing it and going out whether I really wanted to or not was good for me. We had a great dinner and it was a lovely restaurant. No one I date anymore seems to know wine and apparently I still do given I once lived in a house with a wine cellar and far too much disposable income. So I helped him find a sweet white which is what non wine drinkers drink (I did too when I started out, hoorah to white zin) while mine was bone dry. He wouldn't let me pay a cent towards dinner which I appreciate though I prefer to pay for others myself despite my current budgetary concerns. But a man who insists at least early on, appeals to my more traditional roots.
He stayed local at a motel which also had my nose in the air...I'm so damn patronizing in my head sometimes. Yes, I went over for some play though I really wanted to go home. I'll admit it; I play with some guys to be polite sometimes especially if I like them as people. I know better. But whereas I can say no to a relationship with a nice guy I don't have chemistry with, I don't always say no to sex. Part of it is to not hurt feelings and hell, everyone should get laid now and then. And part of it is that men I'm not initially attracted to have grown on me and become more so with every interaction. It was like that with cuck at first. I thought was like okayyy...he's not that attractive physically but I adored that he'd drive through a blizzard to see me plus the uniform. By mid relationship I could only see him and he was the most delicious handsome man ever to me. Women aren't so driven by appearances as men are. I look at D for example who was so damn furry that you've never seen anything like it. Now I prefer my man seriously manscaped...like required. But it was just part of him and I grew to find it part of what made him unique and learned to love the texture of him against me.
But I'm still a snobbish beyotch. I just hopefully don't show it. I don't want to hurt anyone. My date last night is a NY Italian guy...very affectionate, touchy feely. I thought I was affectionate. But I found myself uncomfortable a bit. He's a snuggler too. And It was a wake up call to me. I'm not really very affectionate anymore to anyone but my children. Well I hug and kiss friends too. But with lovers...I'm really focused on fucking to sometimes the exclusion of the rest. It was nice and all, the snuggling. And certainly I enjoy pillow talk in bed. But mine is usually apart, separated a bit. Maybe one of us with elbow bent and head on hand, eye contact, and conversation. But that hugging and stroking stuff...I used to do that. But I don't think too many lovers have done the same to me. And I'm so out of practice that I'm kind of uncomfortable with it. For some reason that thought makes me cry. Like that's another little broken part of my heart that I missed patching up. I find it hard to truly relax into anyone. I'm always looking to move. It's an art I may have lost.
Anyway, it was fine, the evening. He's lovely though he wants to do it again. And I don't want to do it again. So I'll do what guys do and become too busy. But I expect I will be for real. I don't like to lie. I miss TBH. I can't even tell you what it was about that man but it was like we knew each other longer than we did. His mind and his snark and his grin I miss. But I always did think I wanted him more than he ever wanted me. Though the man always figured me for a player.
I have been musing that too. How there's an expectation if a women is dating you and fucking you, many men are offended and hurt if she's also doing the same with someone else. Now mind you men don't want to have the monogamy conversation but they just want me to be monogamous with them nonetheless. A woman who isn't is a slut or a whore to many men. A man who does the same is just a man and gets a pat on the back. Dudes, that's beyond fucked up and I'm damn tired of expectations that differ from sex to sex. I would love to be with one guy. Not any guy...but one guy whose presence in the room just sent my blood zinging through my veins. And Oh, I wish I could do the same for him. To trust and explore and do all sorts of wicked, fun, cozy and kinky things together takes just that. Deep intimacy. I want it. But I don't know that I can achieve it. I'm so careful anymore. I manage attachment. But it's really because I'm so easily hurt.
I'm happy to be home, showered properly, doing errands and household jobs, listening to the cat snore, lavender oil in the diffuser so the place smells like a summer in Provence (snob! I know), and looking out at the still deep drifts of snow. I won't share this space with anyone or my cozy bed until he shares his with me first. As I keep looking I realize that becomes more and more unlikely as the men whose space I've shared haven't made it far enough for me to open this to them. But that's okay. My libido is fading a bit. I don't NEEd to fuck the way I used to. I don't need fucking as an escape. I do though really know what I want and that's connection.
In the mean time, I'll keep putting one foot in front of the other...
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Such happy children...there's nothing like a snow day and Valrhona hot chocolate to warm up and keep them grinning. I'm rather stunned I didn't set a foot outdoors today as they shoveled us and an elderly neighbor out without prompting. It's a blizzard, drifts everywhere. The back roof must be in the wind tunnel as there's no snow at the edge but drifts cover bedroom windows. I've been watching the geese all day, huddled and fluffy on the frozen ice on the water. I suppose that's what we all do, huddle in, on nights and days like this. But I feel bad for the creatures. Tempting to feed them, but I know better given the great variety of wildlife here. No need to attract them and create dependence.
I'm going to say yes to that date. It's been months since I've shared dinner with another adult and I already know I like him. I just like him too much to lead him on when I don't see our life styles as complimentary. But truly, whose lifestyle would compliment a mid-age woman with adolescent children? Probably a dad in the same situation, but I rarely end up dating dads who are still doing their parenting duties. Schedules I suppose. Plus I'll admit I'm less tolerant of folks who complain about their teens when they haven't taught them consequences for behavior and consistency. I remain amazed when my work friends talk of driving to the city to shop for prom dresses and spending as much as I did on my wedding dress. Young men and women with a sense of entitlement grate. But parents don't seem to get their role in breeding that attitude into them. I know y'all are gritting your teeth...onward.
I think maybe I am less sexual. Certainly less driven. There was a time I just needed to fuck, and cocks mattered more. I still think I'd enjoy a nice big stiff one, but the jumping through hoops has gotten less tolerable. Many (and maybe even most) men treat a sexual woman as if she were a whore. I disagree and find it offensive. I am a lady through and through. And I can still embrace my sexuality without apology. I can say fuck, or cock, or whatever other gritty words come to mind in the midst of fucking and I'm still that lady. But I'm a woman above all a woman. And we are all goddesses in our way. Worship me darlin, and I'll sure worship you back...
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There are days I feel like I'm being pulled backwards. Of course I hang on; I'm not an easy one to dislodge from where I want to be. I had to revisit the courthouse for the first time since my divorce. I am sorry all you public servants and attorneys galore, but to me that place is like an airless tomb. Stale air, unhappy people forced to be there when they'd rather be anywhere but...though there are those uniforms but somehow uniforms don't make my heart go pitter pat as much a great brain these days.
Oh, how many days I had to go there, shaking in my boots, holding it together until I could get to my car, put my head down, and cry. I had lunch at the same local place I did 6 months ago on the day my divorced was final. Same solo lunch, small plates, no alcohol though on this frigid day but more tea. It felt absolutely bizarre. I stayed away from the diner whose owner would buy me breakfast and then ask me out. And I did think of beautiful Superman, the body builder attorney extraordinaire who was once my friend.
Now of course, I know the deal. Don't wear any metal and certainly not a belt because I find it unseemly to undress and redress in front of stranger. I discovered the courthouse has wifi today, but you get blocked if you try to access a sex site. I know because I did. But dating sites are apparently okay.
So I joined a relationship-oriented dating site just last night. It's time. And I've always been most successful finding someone in the first few months of the year. You know it's apparently the busiest time for all of them; folks break up before the holidays or spend it solo and are determined to fix that. I still have mixed feelings about feeling caged but I know I want a deeper connection and monogamy the way I used to do it. Oh I still get turned on by the notion of multiple guys and a dp fantasy, but whenever I get close to the actual execution of that plan I end up balking if it's even remotely tawdry. Because, yeah, I can love cock and still be all lady.
The first group of matches who comes up and who's there? The professor. My, my, my....I was a bit intimidated by his intellect the 2 years ago when we dated. And I didn't understand why we never actually fucked. When he finally admitted he had some trust issues and some apparently sexual blocks, I decided I was not in to fixing a man or prying such things out of him. I walked. I've still thought of him over the years. He's was certainly attractive, brilliant, and kind. And my, he was into me. But I couldn't be with a guy who needed fixing. And I still can't. I want to want him, not a different version of him. Sooooo...he reached out. He's agreed to dinner without any expectations. He's a vegetarian, but I can do vege short term. Our personalities and values mesh wonderfully. Our lifestyles do not. But I'll continue to be honest and hopefully no one gets hurt. I think it will simply be delightful to have dinner with conversation I enjoy. Two dinner dates this weekend. Apparently the secret to a companionable weekend is to simply say "yes."
I spoke to my chiro today too. Long overdue but put off because of that fall I took. Simply too many parts hurt to allow anyone else to touch them. The first thing he said to my greeting was "Bad Girl..." Mmmmm...it sent a frisson of oooooohhhhh up my spine. It's been so long since I've been anyone's bad girl...I still wish in some ways it had been TBH, but I am being very disciplined about not pursuing that. He wants me; he can come and get me. But I'm filing him under "failure to launch" and working on the compartmentalizing I've become so skilled at doing.
Snow days ahead...a blizzard is says. Stay warm darlings. I LOVE snow days and not having to wake up. XO
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Peace this eve. I took a solo drive for dinner and to fill my car with fuel for a travel day tomorrow. Gorgeous night. Full moon, clear sky. My son and I walked down to the water earlier in the day. He was so thrilled I was willing to brave the cold for an adventure. Our briny pond doesn't freeze completely, but there is a great deal of thick ice...beautiful crystals. I think the tide comes in over the frozen shoreline and refreezes into these crystalline layers. I've never seen anything quite like it before.
I drove through one of the small towns here along the coast on my way home. It truly IS Mayberry. A campfire on the side of the lake and children ice skating with the fire department's spot light on the ice. The bridges are still lined with golden Christmas lights and well...it's something to see. I do have a longing for and a knack of creating beauty around me. Now it's pretty easy to do here in this haven. It was less so growing up the way I did. But then I had the books I endlessly reread to lose myself in. And I've been doing the same for once after promising myself I'd read for leisure over the holiday. Now I'm a fast reader of fiction. No so on work stuff. I'm on my 9th in...oh...maybe 6 days. I'll have to stop soon and get back to work, but oh..fiction is such a pleasure. I understand now why some of y'all like reading about me getting laid. When I'm not, it's kind of fun to read about others doing so. I'm not an envious person, so I feel like celebrating at lease someone is getting fucked beautifully out there...fiction or not.
I wrote to one of my fav internet friends, whose wisdom I take to heart how I've been protecting my haven here and hermitting in a little. You see I don't want to bring drama or negativity here. He told me "the good part of it all is that [I] do not have to let anyone in - at least not any deeper than they earn with [me]. This is all about [me], and there is no need to let others take things down from where [I] want them to be." And so I don't.
I wanted to invite a friend I care about a great deal, but she comes with small children who she does not monitor. I realized that whereas in the old place there were so many remnants of small children in the childproofed house, here we are all mature enough that it's definitively not a house for small children. I didnt want to risk the tree with the heirloom ornaments, even though I know it's just stuff. Some stuff is rife with stories such as each one of those. And precious to me. I adore my friend, but she's doesn't like being a parent though she loves her children. And it shows as chaos reins. Once the weather improves, I'll let her come and deal with muddy wet children in the outdoor space. But I just don't want this destroyed.
I'd invited TBH here in the past and now I wonder why I did it. If things hadn't headed south, I wouldn't have realized I'd found myself right where I was with cuck all those years ago. 9 months into our relationship I discovered he was not just divorced but had remarried and I was his side dish. It was devastating to a woman who'd been the cheated on in the past and swore never to put another woman in the place I'd been. But if you haven't been invited to his pad in a few months, chances are he's hiding more than a little. I can't quite believe I'm saying it, but I'm glad he's gone. I've made room for a better guy.
I am very very tired though of parties, dating sites, and particularly sex sites though I suppose this is one of them. The men talking about how hung they are. How they want nothing more than to go down on me for hours. Often how they're married despite my capital you must be SINGLE on ever profile. I am most tired what seems to be the majority... men in relationships out there looking for something casual that won't change their situation or yours. Fucking idiots. I just have no respect for them. Hell, it's not working then do the hard thing. Be a grown up and get out of it. And I can say it because that exactly what I did and you bet divorce is horrific. But the other side is quite frankly, glorious, even if I'm choosing to be mostly solo now. Sex was always as stress reducer and escape. But I don't need either anymore.
Today, with Darling Dom's help I told the cable company to fuck themselves in the most mannerly of ways. Went out and got my own modem since the repairmen didn't show up for a second day. Set it up and bam...I fixed the damn issue myself and they can't charge me a penny for their modem anymore since I own this one. I may just cancel cable as well since we are pretty much an all Apple TV family anymore when we do watch anything. We're too busy for TV. It's hard for them to stay with my friends and most people I know who keep the tv on as background noise. Ours is quiet house and we like it that way, except for to occasional impromptu dance party which just embarrasses my girl and makes my son laugh and laugh. Besides the geese who come into the backwaters at night make enough noise for us all. I love the honking of geese.
I understand now why some folks don't date and get set in their ways. Sometimes the ways you create can be lovely. It was just too hard for too long. I can't do anything that hard anymore. And I don't have to.
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I am inordinately fond of coffee/tea shops. The quiet ones. Though they all seem to inevitably get noisy. Starbucks with the family in tow today; thank goodness for gift certificates and free wifi since the cable company is still dicking me around and we all have online work to do. I will be switching internet providers after this is sorted out. Disrespect my time and I walk away. I take the same approach in my personal life too.
If a relationship, whatever its form, becomes too much work eventually I walk. Most of the time I should have walked before I do, but I'm a patient sort. Too patient. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Actually no, lazy isn't a work that generally applies. I think I just believe like a child...if I wish hard enough, try my hardest, somehow that magic is just going to happen and everything is going to work out. I really do believe that a my core. I suppose it's why I'm so utterly bereft when others don't act right.
Deer this evening...walking right along the property border to snack on my neighbor's shrubs across the street. The usual 4 does I see cruising the yards now and then. They're sleek and look well fed. Beautiful elegant creatures. When I tell others of the deer, I get "oh no, deer ticks!" Seriously, as if deer ticks didn't exist independent of deer in all the brush that surrounds us. There are big pinecones that fall into my front yard on windy days from an enormous pine. I love them and leave them where they lay most of the time. I think the peace here has left me in some ways less tolerance of the lack thereof.
I just no longer want to be in something with folks who aren't equally invested...whether it be family relationships, a lover or a beau, or friendships. Maybe that's me looking at things like a balance scale as much as I don't want to. But you know there are folks out there who just do for the sake of doing. And who act from a place of real emotion. That sort of authenticity is what I seek for myself and what I'm trying hard to give.
I put out a new personals profile a couple of days ago. I really want that sex with connection and dating. So much. I think I'd be nervous to have sex again. I'm growing uncomfortable in my body since I'm living so much outside of my usual physical realm. I get like this. On or off. When I'm on, I can keep going and seek sexual connection. Off, well, it's hard to get motivated back to on again. Somehow my usual sense of want eases. And I begin to appreciate the peace of few bumps in the road. I feel good. Not brilliantly happy. Not sad. More than okay. Just good.
I will have to put myself into some new and uncomfortable situations again soon, but right nowI just want to BE.
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Cabin fever is settling in. I so want to be able to spend a Christmas holiday once where it is warm and you can DO things. Too much indoor time can bore woman and children and even pets. It's just too damn cold. Now sure, if I had a proper beau or even better, an improper one, there are things one could do make indoor time far from a yawn. Though not a tv girl, to add insult to injury, my modem went kaput early this AM when I got up before the household to work. Try getting that fixed on NYE...There's data, right? Checked it to find my sons have managed to use up nearly a whole months plan in 8 days. Thank heavens for rollover data from last month, but they'll have to do without and learn their lesson. I'm quite quite pissed, but consequences will do over a screamer of a parent. I prefer to save my screams for more pleasurable times.
Though here's the thing. It seems, and in fact it is, when I have blessed free time without deadlines looming...and can indulge in more carnal pursuits...well, hell, I never have a partner then. And sure enough that's the case now and the weekends that loom rather lonely ahead. Porn is getting damn old. I'll channel the energy into a deadly dull and dreaded project I should complete, but fuck! That should be FUUUUUUCCCKKK...I really want to just immerse myself in someone I just want.
There's power to women...when we can make a man swallow hard. When we can brush by him and feel him harden against our hip. When his eyes flare. We he just needs to be inside you. Or to taste you. I've felt the same under the thrall of a few men. Hint: I really don't want to give a bj to just any cock. That's me adoring a man's cock and I pretty much need to adore the man to adore his cock. I can go thru the motions, but it's not much fun. But if the man turns me on, brain, heart and body, I want nothing more than to taste and touch and take him. But then as much as I like sex, I can't recall the last time a man touched all three...brain, heart, and body. But like the song, two out of three ain't bad.
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Why darlings do you all talk about age as if it's something to be gotten over rather than simply part of you? I've met 35 yr olds who are older and more worn than I'll be at 90. When I ask a man his age and he bows his head in chagrin to tell me he's 63 though he said he was 57 on his profile, I just don't get why? Or I get responses like "I'm 52 but I look like I'm 45." WTF does that even mean? I'm 52 and I look like me at 52. I look better clothed than naked I think, but blessedly there are some males who think a naked female whatever her age is a beautiful thing. For heavens sake, stop apologizing about the stuff you can't change and embrace it. When I get those excuses for age I inevitably swipe left and delete his email. Just fucking BE.
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My former cuck, and on occasions, I, think I'd be best served by another cuckold relationship. Fucking multiple men, often in the same night, is something I've explored both with a protector in the form of a cuck and without. Is it fun? More often than not, yes. Though sometimes it's not. With a cuckold? Well when I had a cuck, my explorations were still in their infancy. But yes, to be well fucked, bundled tenderly into the car, driven home and kissed, adored, and fucked again by a beloved who had a look of utter adoration of my pure carnality in his eyes...astonishing sensation of love and acceptance. But at the time I wasn't fucking others for my own desires, but to meet his. My play at Dominance was ultimately my submission to him.
Later I explored at parties on my own. It was escape and stress relief pure and simple. And yes, my libido is that strong I'm not easily sated. So more than one cock left me pleased, purring and happy to go home to my solo bed and sleep. That last party I attended though turned me off. Having to tell one man to stop being offensive or I'd have him ejected from the party. I have no trouble with assertion when it is called for. But later a guy I found lovely, a ginger, thought he was turning me on with his whispers about how much I loved to fuck men I didn't know. He missed it completely. I like fucking. But I certainly don't like fucking men I have no real connection with. It's a necessary evil when my libido gets to me and the connection I seek just hasn't made it into my life yet. Down to brass tacks, I'm happier if I fuck regularly. I don't even know if it's about the orgasms and neurotransmitter hit. I think it's more about my need to touch and feel and connect on a real, reach out and touch, physical plane.
And that I need quite a lot. But when I tuck in to my fleece sheets at night that are as close as I can get to mimicking the warmth and softness of a beloved body in my bed, I close my eyes and image a face on the pillow next to mine just a breadth away. Eyes crinkled with a grin, lips beginning to pucker to kiss me and a laugh in his voice. Who is it? There was time it was a specific man I had a hankering for. Now it's an amalgam of men. My neighbor's messy hair and very masculine square jawed grin...TBH's conversation, laugh, and the tuck in of his beautiful cock against the cleft of my ass...cuck's whispered confessions in my ear and profession of love...CW's rough thrust and the way he would pull my head to his chest post...Rock Star's adoration of my feet and legs. And all of them I can close my eyes and see their faces as they cum, still the pinnacle for me.
Do I want them all? No. Hell, IDK if I even want any one of them. But I appreciate them, warts and all, for the moments of joy they gave me. I expect when I am an old old woman I'll dream of these men. I still believe, in spite of all this titillating talk of multiple men, I want just one. I am a monogamist at heart. And I believe I can want one man more than any other physically, mentally, and emotionally. That man just hasn't found his place in my life yet. So I fill the gaps how I will. I'm not accountable to anyone, though I protect my children and this haven of a space apart from my more carnal pursuits. I haven't found someone I want to have breakfast with the next morning yet who wants me in the same way.
I will. I know I will. Meeting men is not difficult for me. Building a relationship is the challenge in a world where I'm not sure people do relationships anymore they way I do. Intimacy, emotional and otherwise. Care. Accountability...well, more transparency than accountability. Respect. Acceptance. Kindness. And to be absolutely driven to please and meet each other's desires as much as possible...that kind of giving. But most of us seem to be at one end of a balance scale, measuring who gives what and trying to keep make sure we get our share. Self serving I think is the word. I want fun. FUN all caps. And caring. I give it. And one day I'll get it. But the whole key is it has to come from a place of want rather than need and with a view of the whole person as they are.
IDK if I'm even making sense but since my terrible flub with TBH this has been percolating around in my head. I'm ready to let that go. I'd feel the same way as him in the same situation. But given how flawed I am and how common it is for me to make mistakes, I expect I would only hurt him given he is more unforgiving than even I. And forgiveness is something that comes hard to me. I need strength of character and acceptance. I wonder if I'll find it. Well it won't be in TBH. And that's part of what make me want to leap out of the fire of connecting with folks. You develop these friendships or relationships. You feel close and want and appreciate the other person. You begin to look forward to the blips out of the blue of communication and the way they keep you smiling. Then in the blink of an eye, they're just gone. IDK how people do that. It's so cruel. I'm lucky in maybe 50% of my relationships or even of former lovers, that we acknowledge the unworkability of the relationship, but how much we still care about each other. Keeping that mutual support and friendship...well, those are the folks I give thanks for everyday. And yeah, on occasion if we're both between relationships we might have a good fuck.
Pen
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I remember now why celibacy is not for me, even if sex is not quite fulfilling in the way I wish it to be. The sheer pleasure in leaning in to kiss, I've missed. Having elements of my clothing removed in the most tantalizing of ways, I've missed. Conversing while leaning against opposite ends of the couch, I've missed. Feeling slow circles massaged into my instep with my involuntary sigh, I've missed. Being told I have far too many clothes on, I've missed. A mouth exploring skin, tongue, and pussy, I've missed. The simple sensation of skin that is not mine and those real physical signs of pleasure from a gasp to a "yesss," I've missed. And oh, sharing orgasms, now that I've missed...
I need to be more than a worker bee. More than a stellar mom and responsible adult. More than a good friend. More than a do-gooder. I need to feel pleasure, whether it is fulfilling or less so. I need to connect physically. I need to be the physical creature I am as much as a cerebral one. And I need to feel my power as a woman. The power to make a man want, to seek, to crave...to note when he has noticed I'm wearing heels tonight and see the slight widening of eyes, the start of a smile before he catches himself, the increased blood flow to his cheeks...and I know if I were to just touch him I'd feel his pulse jump. That, my darlings, is feminine power. And it's heady. Just as I can affect him, he can pull me completely into the moment so that all I want and need to have is him.
Does it matter who "he' is? Sure it does. But can I feel much of that without the perfect "him?" I sure can. I'm not sure if it's settling or if it's simply allowing myself to feel good and real. Because to me there's nothing so real as physical sensation shared. I don't think I need to necessarily fuck multiple men in a sensation-seeking fugue. But should the opportunity present, I would. So too would I embrace connection to one man exclusively should we both be of the desire for each other. I would adore sharing my bed all night with one. I'd kiss and stroke and tease and flirt and comfort. And I'd sink into him as he would me.
I hear from submissive men quite a bit. And I understand y'all very well as I derive great pleasure from switching. But initially, I need a man to take the lead. To seduce to his bed, to invade my head and heart and body with his, to lead me to being his fuck toy. Now if I could be his beloved fuck toy and he mine...well...darlings, how glorious that would be. I adore the connection of conversation, particularly naked conversation. When the clothes come off, so too if you're both non-judgmental, go the niceties of conventional social talk. I adore that intimacy. The shared fantasies. The revealing of self. The stories of relationships/sex/kink desires.
Somehow trying to connect over kinks as we try at times to do here, seems artificial and doesn't quite work as the connections formed between two who lay themselves bare to each other mentally and physically.
And all of these I've found I need. It won't be perfect. But it will leave a part of me active rather than shut down as I've been these past few weeks. My joy needs a physical outlet. My body needs to be penetrated even when my heart is not. I was made for sex and I'm good at it. It's best if we use the gifts we have to make our corner of the world better whatever incarnation it takes.
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I pulled it off. IDK how and I had a pretty serious fall today, but finally the seafood dinner done, a glass of wine at my elbow, and my knee on ice feels GOOD. I spent my afternoon with my 86 yr old friend, brunch at the luncheonette in his city, and a good talk with he and his pup back at his lovely Victorian era home. He doesn't do all the Christmas stuff since his wife died. And I see many folks don't bother. It IS a lot of work as you get older. I hope I don't stop though. A Christmas tree is a glorious thing. And the ornaments I have are storied and represent an experience each child had in each year. I'm an incredibly sentimental mush for all I try to be rational. I miss the days of being a young woman who was so innocent and protected. Those were the days I could lay my head on my boyfriend's shoulder and let him lead. These days I tend to go full speed ahead and do the leading myself.
I've become the sort of woman who finds herself in charge most of the time. Similar to alpha males, we enjoy submission like few other. It's the only time we can just let go and be. And although I crave that scenario; it is also discomfiting for me. My whole body HURTS. A tumble down the stairs in my friend's back porch, landing in a heap in the driveway. Thank heavens he didn't see me. I sat there stunned. But got myself moving quickly, not wanting to give him concern. Christmas morning may well be agony. But let's hope I manage well enough.
I spent another weekend sans sex. I do miss it. But removing the sense of want that drove me so hard leaves me more peaceful. That's the thing about me. I'm either off or I'm ON. And once I'm turned on, I stay on for weeks. Craving. Needing. Wanting. Seeking. But if I stay off, I can just be. Now on off, I'm not very interesting. One of my best skills, I'm told, is sex. Always a shame when you can't share your talents with others.
I've managed to mostly unpack downstairs where the fancy chessboard wedding present is set up along with shelves of games. And that wonderful massage chair from my bedroom which now belongs to the whole family. I love listening to the sound of their voices. They came home from their father's this evening full of excitement. And after a great simple dinner, well...it's just good. And then earlier as I was finishing wrapping I saw a car pull up at the house. Thinking it was someone's family visiting I kept going until my beautiful friend from PA's children started running toward the house. I can't tell you the grin I had as I ran out to them in my bare feet. Such hugs. And love. I adore surprises like no one else. They spent a good hour while I held the sleeping baby and just felt nothing but warmth. It was a GOOD day. And more is yet to come...
Be well folks. Alone or with family, remember you are valued and have much to give the world.
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When my house is full I crave sleeping in. Then come mornings like today when I did and wake to miss the chatter of my early riser youngest. I particularly adore peeking into my children's bedrooms and seeing them tousled and sleeping with utter peace in their beds. The joy of full rooms makes me wonder why I didn't enjoy my stint as an innkeeper more. But the cats were eager for my company, and more so for me to serve their breakfast. There was time to sit with my tea and actually prepare a real grapefruit. I cook breakfast most mornings if I am here for my children, but it is usually 4 hours before I get my own.
I've been wishy washy. All over the place in I want this but I want that and two are usually not complimentary. That's the element of we women that you men find incomprehensible. But really we aren't so different. Think about being in a committed relationship. You want her, you want what makes you "us." But it chafes as you want total freedom too. I am the same. But I have this notion I can find a balance with someone who gets me and I him. The issue is of course finding someone who knows he's in and knowing I'm in enough to do the work. And the very real issue of creating the time. Spending real time together, whether it's just lunch one day, a weekend or overnight another time, helping watch a dog or get thru a project...that level of mutual support is a gift.
I was a complete beyotch last night to my ex. Perpetually late without apology gets to me and teaches the children not to respect his time either. My children have taken to treating their father the same way he does them. They stay put when he knocks, take their time gathering their things which are ready, but they'll remember they need more and more as he begins to fume. He doesn't apologize and often doesn't even give a heads up. He was my straw and I broke. His response to my request that he be more respectful was met with "I had to get..." with no comprehension that he has endless hours not with his children to do more than I certainly can. But that's the life of many of us who parent. I'm told I'm a single parent. But that implies my children have only one. Most of the parenting time and decision making falls to me, true. But they have dad. To whom I was very mean. Privately, out of sight and hearing of my children, but boy do I know how to hurt when I feel disrespected.
I should feel bad. Like I did with my mistaken text to TBH. But this is nothing like that. The unfortunate things about some men is that treating them badly works. My texted me today. He got up early to make a long overdue payment for the children's extracurriculars. He asked if I bought my daughter X after realizing his insistence on getting her something she didn't want didn't work so well. I think he is really trying. And he does love his children. But he only sees what is in front of him at that particular moment in time. A short term over a long term guy. The end result of women treating him badly and giving him the drama he craves, is that it perpetuates it. And ends up making all parties unhappy and negative.
I'm having a hard time with solo the nights I am alone. The days are lovely. But these evenings...Last night I spent shopping at a big box store, restocking my big closet downstairs with the bulk items. I'm learning to save money, though it doesn't come easily to me. Coupons? I can't think far enough ahead to clip, but with a quiet night at the store last night, my checkout girl clipped coupons for me to the tune of saving $20. Just one person being kind to me last night turned it around. So darlings, you never know if that random act of kindness can make all the difference in someone's day. Do it. I like small local stores with service. Outlets and box stores drive me mad. But I'm learning small doses on weekdays when I can, in and out and I can do it. Such a spoiled brat. IDK how spoiled. But def a brat sometimes.
I did a solo dinner and it was lovely. I drink rarely when alone, to avoid the depressive effects. Tea galore. A proper glass pot is nearly a spiritual experience to me. And comforting. I have been invited to a MFM gathering this evening, but as much as sex would take the edge off...I may keep my edge. A cost benefit analysis of whether it's worth doing something likely hot that will leave me emotionally unsatisfied versus not and being emotionally balanced but physically unsatisfied is inconclusive. I have no idea what I'll do. Probably whatever feels right. And I have to learn to get through holiday'ish evenings better.
I drove past an old acquaintance/friend's house Friday to see her home being cleared out of the detritus she left when foreclosed. I was in the same position myself though with a better outcome. She could talk and talk and talk until you both realized you'd been standing in the doorway saying goodbye for an hour and a half. But I miss her support and local presence. We were the only single moms in town for a long time and she'd dealt with being excluded with aplomb. Now it's quite different of course as a decade and a half later we are all older and marriages have failed left and right. IDK if a single woman is viewed as threat (trust me, after having a cheating husband I don't want yours). Or a very real reminder of it could happen to you. Or if there's simply less in common.
I do know I still derive comfort from my current neighbors with their single cars in the drive and lights on in the evening to come home to. I have crush on the male across the street, but am determinedly ignoring him though I patronize his business on occasion. But he has started calling a greeting in the AM as we both leave our houses for the day. It's good and friendly and we'll keep it that. After my last experience with D and how close he was with his dog, I think my neighbor is the same. And a guy with a dog on one side and and me tucked in on the other is like making nice to a man with possessive kids. I have no desire to share a bed with a dog in the middle separating us again. So while men with dogs might be a chick magnet to some, not to me. I have cats I adore, but I leave my bedroom sacrosanct. it's just a bit too pure at the moment. Still I have gotten to know my neighbors and they seem kind, unlike my old house, so I'm not really alone. I just feel it.
I actually had a beautiful Friday, piping icing onto gingerbread with my daughter decorating them with candy eyes, mustaches, nonpareils, mini m&m's, neck wafers, peppermints, and whatever else we could scavenge. For hours we were side by side, laughing as she asked me to cut part of the head off some so she could create exposed brains...zombies are big with the teen set these days...others had great coats a la Hamilton...she did our family, me complete with red m&m hair...and the Harry Potter cast of characters...along with others I'm simply too uncool to know. I stuck to my ginger stars without candy and still more shapes in my sons' interests.
Gingerbread, the real stuff, made with fresh spices is heaven. Bake them just right and you'll have a crisp edge and just the right amount of give to the center for that hard to define mouthfeel that leaves you breathing an involuntary "ahhh..." These are my gingerbread. Before they were iced, my girl would take some in her lunch to school. She told me yesterday she had to break each one into little pieces to share as her friends had never before had "real" gingerbread and were astonished at how good it is. So I've brought some goodness out there which is pretty much what I live for even with all my complaining about my solo'ness.
I have very definite ideas about what I can do and give in a relationship and what parameters I have to work within. I think my attitude is getting in the way and I need to find a way to lose it. To be open. And see what comes. Not to try to fit someone into the gap spaces in my life. Hell, I wouldn't want that so no one else would. IDK though if I can manage to do FWBs like I did in the past. It's fun and great, mutual needs met. But calling it FWB means you can take that closeness and just decide not to do it in the blink of an eye. Sure you can do that with regular relationships too. But I think people should treat each other better. It still amazes me how close you can be to someone and then out of the blue they are gone. I've left relationships aplenty. But I try to do it like a grown up. I'm not always successful. But I'm still going to try.
I miss sex. I do so much better when I'm fucking regularly. But right now, with the exception of TBH (and I've given up on that), there isn't a soul I want to let inside of me. Nor kiss. I really want to kiss, but without connection...heavens I should just like a woman for a change.
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There is definitely something up with the site. I keep losing my words. Yesterday's post was inspired and I'm sorry to have lost it all. So y'all know a journal, even one as public as this is a very personal pursuit. I present one side. It's self indulgent, biased, occasionally raw, but it's my truth at the time I wrote it. I don't write for others; I write to get the words, thoughts, and sometimes decidedly uncomfortable feelings out of my head. But every now and then something I say resonates with someone out there and we connect over it. That is a great blessing to me. So thank you.
I'm still watching sappy movies, but something in one of them I fell asleep to this evening resonated with me. Y'all know the phrase "having each other's back." It's one of the things I seek in a partner, in friends, in coworkers. To me it's essential for the kind of trust I want to both have and promote in all my relationships. With my children, I've delivered it. And in many ways they have mine for all their youth. We are great supporters of each other, thick and thin. But this sappy movie... one scene where having each other's back isn't what trust is all about. Trust is about wanting and trying to work things out when things head south because it matters. Afterall perfection, particularly in relationships, doesn't exist. I've always believed it's our imperfections that charm. And make us real and loved like the Velveteen Rabbit.
My words here can be real and can seem harsh. I hurt people without wanting to or meaning to sometimes. And it bugs the hell out of me as I want (and mostly think I am) to be a good person. And although I know y'all are out there reading, when I write there's nothing between the my heart & head and the keyboard. It's just an outpouring. And yes, sometimes it's my therapy. There are times I feel and have felt impossibly alone though of course I'm not. I just can't see. So this forum gives me perspective.
I reread my posts. Sometimes I'm gratified by my expressions. Sometimes I cringe and want to erase every last word. But I'm not gonna. These are my lessons to me.
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Finishing a bottle of wine after a text conversation with cuck. Be both know we will never meet again, but we learned much about ourselves from each other. He lives with regret at the loss of our connection. I live with gratefulness. As much as I was convinced at the time I'd actually found that soulmate I never even believed in, it sucked to have said soulmate be such a bad person. But then I'm rather good at attracting selfish bastards who lie to me and for all my positivity, I'm an innocent and believe people til proven otherwise.
I love Christmas. I adore the nutcrackers like soldiers in a row on the old store counter. Gingerbread, oh I adore everything about my gingerbread. Particularly the contrast of spice with citrus icing. Amaryllis in their overblown glory. My favorite chef nutcracker. That beautiful tree the kiddos cut down. Each of their ornaments they unpack has a story from the year they were given, and as they fill the tree they tell those stories. So they'll have their own mythology to tell their children as my grandmother told hers to me. I don't have stories except some of my time with their father. My childhood was not filled with cookies and brilliance. It was mostly to be endured. And so I did. But there's little to tell since I will not tell my childen of when the state removed my sister and I from our parents. And how we were too much as a 3 and 4 year old for our grandparents and were put in a home for foster children. Oh eventually they got us back. But my abandonment issues...well, they're long standing.
I don't know if I wrote of it in my last post but D sent me a text to drop off some things he had of mine from when he worked for me. Little notice. And I wasn't going to respond. But my son had asked for some of the tools. And so I decided to tell him I was not home but he could but my things here and there. It became less an issue of disrespect and more about getting my son what he requested. And then I erased all of D's texts, stupid voicemails where he sounded like a 15 yr old instead of a 40 yr old man, and blocked his ass. Yeah, its' an emotional response. But this girl's flashpoint is feeling disrespected. And damn if that's not precisely what he did. Well glad thats out.
Maybe celibacy doesnt quite agree with me. But surely freedom does? And I am freer than most. But there's a cost.
Peppermint icecream in a cone and red wine is really the most lovely combination when you're finishing off a bottle. I just want to be adored. Even for just a little bit. For one person to find me as astonishingly appealing as I find so many non typical folks out there. Just one?
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HEAT! Yes! I have it and it's glorious.
I wonder if I should accept an invitation to a man I spent a night with once. He's more alone than I. Empty nest. While mine is still well feathered and the chicks won't be flying quite yet. He's over the top. And while I'd like that in a man who really knows me or has for some time, it's a red flag too early in a friendship. He lives in one of my fav little towns a few states away and yes, he's good in bed. Intelligent. But likely too flakey for me. He reminds me of BC, the older man I dated last year at this time.
I often think of BC. How well he took care of me. And he did. He gave far more than I did. But it came across more needy than being about any emotion for me. I wonder if I come across the same way? I naturally give a great deal. And I don't always get treated with the level of respect I've become accustomed to most folks treating me with. I enjoyed BC's community of bi and gay men. But then I am attracted to minds ands spirits that are open and not neurotypical.
What do I want for Christmas? A beautiful night, drinking too much wine in front of a fire. With a man who charms me. A sleepover. Free and cozy and connected. And warm...all night. Slow slippery sex. Laughter. Wrestling. Kisses that feel like we mean it. A tuck in. And I don't want to be remotely in charge. Just for one beautiful evening.
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I'd thought I was done with being cold. I continue to wonder if I'm not a magnet for endless hiccups big and small. I woke in the new house to a decided chill. But then like most of us I turn down the thermostat in the eve to save energy costs. Popped downstairs this morning and nope, no slightly noisy blower kicking on. But of course the supply houses close at noon on Saturday and here we are. Thank heavens I kept CW's gift from a few Christmases ago, an infrared electric fireplace heater. It's not the most elegant thing but its fake fire is oddly comforting and the HEAT, thank you CW. I do like a practical guy. His edges are just too rough for me.
I whacked the hell out of my noggin too today on a joist in the attic. But time to focus on the positives. No heat? I bake. Dutch apple pancake and a happy family for breakfast. Apple crisp. Gingerbread soon. My head has eased though there still a lump I keep worrying at. And the smaller rooms and lower ceilings on the main level make it easy to keep habitable. The bedrooms are frigid though. But as every space heater I've put upstairs has flipped a breaker, it may be camp out night around the tree. Thank heavens I kept a few good pieces from my more affluent past life too...even slightly holey cashmere does wonders to keep you warm and isn't itchy if you wear something under it. I'm not a sweater girl at all but I'm getting it now.
And blessedly when shit happens, like no heat, I now have someone to call...the owner of the property.
It's too damn cold to have sex in my bed, so sorry y'all this currently celibate girl doesn't have too much of the fun stuff to say. Though I could potentially fuck like a bunny next weekend should I choose to avail myself of the purely carnal.
Pen
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I am not quite so interesting when I keep my libido in check. In some ways it was what set me apart from others I know who live their lives, meet their responsibilites, and keep on going. I've been unabashed in my desires and seach for cock. I remain so...it comes across either refreshing or brash, depending on whether you take a liking to me or not. Oh I still take care of myself as need be. I'm built in such a way that taking care of physical needs is a matter of course. But I have more emotional needs than I'd realized and this wounded heart wants to feel the comfort of warmth and care.
Why is it when a woman wants less, a man wants more? We're all such contrary creatures.
A new guest here today. I really have forgotten how to have people over. The old house we were a bit ashamed of. So guests fell away over the years, except the few folks who I felt safe and unjudged with. Darling Dom was one. My eldest son's few friends. The other single mom in town (at the time; there are more of us now). I fake social adeptness. I'm really not very skilled at all. And I certainly don't know how to create new connections if they're not sexual. But sometimes I'm blessed and they just happen.
Part of me want to find the quiet girl I was. Reading books and being left alone was natural. And now if it's not work related...well, I've lost the knack. Or perhaps it's the appetite for words. Now instead of consuming them, I want to produce them. But here's the thing...I'm naturally a rebel too. Or some hybrid of a do-gooder radical individualist. But I am an awkward, shy soul at heart though damn if I can't fool most folks.
And injustice pisses me off. I'd make a hell of superhero if I could only find my superpower. I'm told it's my therapeutic raspy voice. If I whisper the right thing in a man's ear, I can make him impossibly hard. If someone is struggling and tell they they are not alone and let's talk it out, well I end up in that role with many folks I wish I didn't. But there are enough lovely souls who are not perpetual victims; they make me feel useful over taken advantage of.
TBH suggested we hold hands and watch Oprah today as a joke at our mutual celibacy. Oh, how I'd love to hold hands. And neck. But I'm a little gun shy at present. No, it's not gun shy. I'm just plain ornery and not in the mood to take any sh$% from anyone. Especially not in the interest in getting laid. I think I've reached a fuck it state of mind.
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As a woman who has thought about cock and how ti get it in her sparse free time, I put myself in a constant state of want. Even after fucking, I could always go more and longer. Never really sated, excpect if kink was an element. Stimulating those pain/pleasure receptors with impact play or a bite or making me take more than I'd supposed I was capbably of taking inside...that edge and slipping over it left me deeply satisfied.
But not being so focused on what I thought I wanted, namely cock, and a lot of it leaves me much nicer. I'd get pissed at not having it. Grumpy. And a little stupid in chosing to fuck hard cock wheter I liked the guy or not. Now admittedly, Pollyanna here sees the positive in everyone. But darlings, there are a host of assholes out there. And I'd rather walk than fuck someone I don't truly find entrancing.
This notion of eliminating a sense of want from my psyche is brand new to me. I've always wanted. Usually like a steady tortoise I eventually get what I want. Of course by that time I don't always want what I've achieved anymore. I'm doing better with that. But by eliminating the want as much as I am capable of doing, ohhhh...it's freeing.
I'm going to enjoy what is, not some hypothetical fantasy of what I need.
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I have a new plan. Celibacy. Yes, you read that right. Though perhaps celibacy is the wrong word. I'll still manage solo o's. But to me "sex" implies an act shared. Hence, no sex = celibacy. Of course, I'm perfectly willing to have my mind changed should a male put forth actual effort to seduce. But by and large, I've sought my o's from others. And I'm tired. I don't know if I'm a bit heart sore as I reflect and see more disappointment in my male/female connections than joy...or if I'm trying on still another of my earlier roles as the good girl I was for so long.
But really I've had a whole lot of orgasms this past decade as I'd made a decided effort to make up for all the one's I'd missed in the decades before. But then I came late to o's. Not till I was 40 and separated, did I buy toys. And zing! Like magic a squirting o. I'd had a tubal ligation several months before, so I was horrified and thought my first o was a malfunction. Thank heavens for the internet. And for men who find squirting, vocal women magic.
I want connected, emotional, real, loud, raw, fabulous sex. Not the itch scratching fuckery I've experienced as of late. It's funny. When life was so hard just a few months back, anything to escape felt good. But now...Now I have nothing to escape from. Life is good. I had a discussion with my mailman today as he trudged through the snow with the amazon bounty of boxes. Same mailman as before. He asked if I liked it her better. A resounding yes. No one is at the old house still and I admitted to him that it's so much better being able to keep up a place differently.
I talked a lot of the old house today. One of my eldest son's friends dropped in as well. We talked about the process as he was one our great helpers. He told me I didn't know how I was going to make this work, but I knew I would figure it out. And so I did. I counsel him. I feel very strongly that we have to look out for each other's young men and woman as growing through adolescence is just plain hard. And far too many don't make it through that we hear about these days. It is much harder to talk to parents than a trusted elder. And I'm a decent elder even though that word gives me pause. But I enjoy all visitors. TBH and I texted throughout the day and that was all pleasure. I enjoy his wit and snark. It would've been better to be physically present, but my trips further afield are going to be lesser for awhile. Holidays are expensive, even with my children's expectations well managed. And hotels have lost their appeal to me. I'd rather be here. Creating comfort and beauty come naturally to me and this place has both.
First snowfall today. I called my neighbor to see if she needed anything or a son to dig her out. When I write it all down, the day I spent solo seems not quite as solo as it seemed. I did shop most of the afternoon and bought little more than a few stocking stuffers and supplies for gingerbread men. I'm still a perfectionist in how I try to please people I love, particularly when it comes to presents. That look of surprise and joy is something I live for. And no, that doesn't make me a submissive darlings. It simply means I care. And caring so much is how I got to celibacy. Sex without connection just isn't doing it. I need to care about my partner, but even more I need to know he cares about and truly knows ME. I'd forgotten, you see, that I've always been about quality. I'd gotten distracted by quantity.
Though of course when I decide to back off, that's when invitations come pouring in...even for a MFM intimate scene...we'll see. I did say I wouldn't mind being persuaded otherwise.
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I don't generally, but here I am complaining again. Darlings, don't you know if you keep sending me the same canned opening, whether it be week after week or every few months or so, I know? Your old emails saying the same thing "hello," "how are you," "nice profile," or "how could I not pause at such a profile"...What's a reply to that? You aren't asking a respectful question, so generally no need for a female to reply, even one as mannerly as I try to be. But repeated same old same old just annoy, like a gnat, one of those little fruit flies who like to live in the drains...be real for heavens sake if you want to forge a connection.
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Speak of the devil. I'm far too kind to folks. D is back. Not back in my bed. He won't get to dip his wick there ever again. I plan to torment him and enjoy it. Not sexually. The man is motivated by the sale apparently. He has something up I may buy and he's looking for a deal. Plus I referred one of my cohort's wealthy friends his way. Well see if he tries to sleep with that client too. Hey she needed help; he does what she needs so use the man. But don't let him use you. I know darlings, a sentiment decidedly unlike me. But if he fucks with this woman, he won't come out of it so well. I don't burn bridges and do take the high road even when I'm seething inside. Seethe...seethe...seethe...okay enough energy on the asshat.
So yeah...dating break. I deleted my last real dating profile online today. I'm driven more to forming connections than dating. And not connections that are necessarily sexual. I'm looking to be more a part of an extended community and spend time with folks I like and/or can help. My friends are pushing me to write a book. Apparently one already has an editor for me when I'm ready. I'd shock her though. I am thinking about pulling something together from my endless journals. But it's so damn personal and raw. I could fictionalize stories. Or I could write a memoir. Or I could write a treatise on how I believe you can survive loss and come out the other side. Or I could write a real and gritty book on coping with divorce. I could write about coping with a whole lot of things. But for now I empty my head here. I'd get a dog instead of dating but no dogs here with the cats. You can't quite walk a cat though. And they hardly are slavishly devoted...although these are remarkably affectionate felines.
What bugs me most about folks is that they talk the talk but don't walk the walk. Or they do both and then suddenly don't. That's what D did. And that's mean. And damaging to others. He said to me once that he could be the way he was with me because I got it. But I didn't apparently. Friends who fuck to me are friends first. And if the fucking falls away, so be it. The affection and caring doesn't. Not with me. Well, not with me unless you're an asshole...then it's pretty damn easy. But this girl can carry a grudge and use words like knives. So he's better watch himself when he comes by to drop off one of my better possessions I want back instead of waiting for him to find a buyer. I've heard from him more today than in the past two months...all because he smells the scent of fresh green cash. Ick.
Well I'll say this. Karma's a bitch. Okay...that's enough vitriol for one evening.
I'm way behind on emails, I know. My apologies darlings. The holiday caught up with me and I had to play catch up on my obligations. I'm saving y'all for a snow frosted chill weekend solo in the cottage with pots of tea. Then the words will flow. Soon...Be well,
Pen
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Ahhh...the date. The scene was set perfectly. My fav restaurant. My fav drink. A nice educated guy. He looked younger and fitter than expected, though that matters less to me than his mind. And we're contemporaries. But..ugh. I don't even know quite what it was. Perhaps a cultural divide. He'd never married the mother of his children and I'm a traditionalist with that, even knowing how hard it is to get out a marriage. It was important to me that my children be legitimate. I know, silly, in this day and age but then I'm the woman who has never lived with a man she wasn't married to...and not planning to...
He flirted. Touched me the way I would reach out and touch during conversation if I were interested. Though it didn't occur to me till I wrote that sentence that I didn't really flirt back. Lots of conversation. Many issues. Intelligent conversation. But IDK...I think it's that he wasn't really a man who embraces either fun or adventure. At one point, he leaned over and whispered that he thought the man next to me was trying to overhead our conversation and I might want to be careful...Fuck that. And the night proceeded that way. Even when he texted me earlier...that there was to be no awkward handshakes, just old friends meeting. Anyone who it that conscious of what others think is definitively not the guy for me. I like a guy who breaks the mold. And even if he sets my teeth on edge now and then, that's far better than boring me.
Physically as beautiful as he looked...nada. Singular terrible kissing. I can't even describe it except to say his mouth was far bigger than mine and I felt like he was trying to swallow me more than kiss me. He did pay me a lovely compliment about my lips. Hell, I do have great lips. And yeah, he had a seriously girthy cock. But the date brought it all home how much I need to not date right now. Of course the minute I decide that, they all come out of the woodwork.
You know what I want to do? Finish the downstairs room and complete unpacking at last. Bake gingerbread men. Do my Christmas shopping. Sleep long and hard. Read a book for pleasure. Brew pots and pots of tea. Help others. Transition to a new job and pots of money. Go to the Stone Pony and hear live music for the first time. Feed my soul at museums of art. Revisit Teuscher at Rockefeller center and splurge on the most beautiful box of dark chocolates in the world. Clean up the cottage. Try my first lavender bath in the bathtub. Spend a weekend doing nothing for anyone else. Tucking in to a sappy movie marathon with cats on either side of me and on laying along the back of my neck and feeling the vibration of their purr.
Apparently a sense of adventure is a rare bird at 50 plus. But I am certain there are other's like me out there. I just have lost the wherewithal to try that hard to find them. Maybe they'll find me...
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I've been thinking about stopping. Stopping a variety of pursuits. Dating. Fucking. Maintaining an online profile. Oh not here; I'd stay here. But the few other dating sites I've tried I find I don't even want to check for messages. It does seem right when it gets to the time I really would enjoy a partner, no one is really available...like the holidays. And yes, my own availability is limited given my children at home. But so many weekends I've felt a desire for a companion from the Spring on...and everyone seems to have more important things to do. I wanted to be that important thing they do!
I simply don't see energy and passion out there. Just others seeking escape (as I did) from the slog. My life isn't a slog any more. It's time to step even further outside of my comfort zone. But I'm finding I want to leave this little house less as it's become a lovely place to come home to. Long day today, arriving after my children...when I pulled out they poured out of the house like they did when they were little...hugs to welcome me home. These are teenagers...I'm still grinning. Well, we DO like each other.
I find it interesting the things I decided to keep. And have made it my mission to use what I have. Today a gorgeous celadon Chinese tea cup held my brew all day. I used to have collection s of what I loved. Lots of celadon...it's that soft new barely green shade to pale jade and translucent...gorgeous stuff. But I sold/left it and a cup or two is enough. There's more to enjoy when there's less than if one is a glutton with material goods. Though it's by no means stark here. Warm. Interesting (even to me and it's my stuff). Both soothing and stimulating. But mostly it's my own fairy tale come true. Though I'm just starting to see that.
It's that cottage near the woods, with Red Riding Hood's wolf mostly vanquished. Though he does knock on the door now and then. I came home to find a pile of leaves on the curb that my lovely landlord took care of today. I never realized oaks hold onto their leaves so long. But then these are the first oaks I've lived with. And yes, there's already a rope swing my children put in one.
This morning I went a'geese chaising . They're lovely in the water, but come up to desecrate my bank and I'm chasing them away. A warning though. Slippers and frosted ground are not for running. They waddled away though. Deer, too, seem more prevalent here but that could be the undeveloped areas nearby. I suppose it's that simply being here, pulling this off and pulling this all together, feeds my soul. And a full heart doesn't seek so much or so hard.
I read something yesterday about many folks over 50 choosing to remain single and some to stop dating. It discussed a state of want that a significant other can create in a life without want. It resonated. I don't really want. I've found my own o's and am finding giving them to myself surprisingly satisfactory. I do on some level have the notion of what happened with D in my head. That hot and heavy, oh-he's-wonderful-and-so-into-me-and-real feeling. What I thought was a friendship going from that to nothing. I don't even want to talk, let alone see him now. I think people must be careful to match their intentions with their words and actions. Otherwise you're just an asshole. And I'm tired of kicking assholes to the curb.
I do have a date. So much for not dating. A man my age. Grown children and a granddaughter he helps watch. Educated enough that he won't look at me like CW did and tell me to stop talking like a college professor. Tomorrow, so we'll see. I don't want to go. Ridiculous isn't it? A date at my fav restaurant and I want to bail. I won't. I'll continue to step outside that comfort zone of mine. He didn't let my schedule chase him away like most. So we will see. I've a huge deadline Wednesday. But it's done and ready now. So I can sit on it and just go and be a singular broad for a night. Well if I'm going to do it at all, it's time I do it on my terms. That's new.
I don't want to share this space yet with anyone. I've forgotten how to. And I, like most of y'all, spend my life doing with others need me to do rather than what I want to do. And here I want to do what I want. It frees me. And yeah, it's still lonely, but I'm willing to give that price for this peace.
Pen
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Well darlings, I'm LIVING far more than I'm writing about living these days. It's a blessed change. This IS the other side and OMG it's long past due. Though Thanksgiving is by far my favorite holiday, I love the traditional decorations of Christmas. I didn't experience a live tree til my mid-20s and was so enthralled by the scent that I slept next to it for a week. I am a retro chick in a few ways and adoring traditions is one of them. There weren't many when I was a child, but my children have theirs and I made them all up! I asked them this year if we really had to traipse through a field again this year and cut a Christmas tree down? Affirmative. And yes, they all took turns and sawed it through. It's tiny with these 7 foot plus ceilings versus the 10 footer of the old house and we erred on the side of caution with one a bit smaller than needed. But oh, they were so happy with the drive to the field, the cookies and cider/cocoa, wagoning through the fields and bringing it home. I've rearranged furniture and decor several times as I don't know what fits in this house. Like many things here though, it's so easy. The children peek here and there with "oh, you put it THERE?!" "Looks good!" And so it does as I figure out how to manage old traditions in a new house. I like it!
The cats of course think every year that we bought them a tree and fight for the right to sleep below it. I cannot remember ever being this prepared this early. Usually it's a week before Christmas and we're off to figure out a tree and put up lights 2 day before Christmas eve. I seem so much more efficient than I've been in years. But that's easy to do when you are starting fresh. I hesitated for a long time to drive a nail into these pristine if vintage walls...But now much is hung. But it's funny. It feels more like an apartment with good stuff than a house. Like when I started decades ago. But the furniture, while better than my cinderblock and wood shelves, is still a mix match of all sort of eclectic pieces, a balance of neutrals to really cool fine pieces.
I like it here. And I am far less driven to travel farther afield. It's a good place to spend time and few places could compete with it's calm and beauty. The geese still honk their way up the pond at sunrise and sunset. The dogs parade past the window on their twice daily walks. I watch the water head east and west with the tide. The cats lie like commas on their beds of choice. Pots of tea, cocoa, or chai to ward off the chill...all my children appreciate rather adult beverages or my classic cocoa with whipped cream and that beautiful peppermint stick. There's something about christmas that's shinier than the rest of the year. And like a crow, I'm attracted to shiny things so I'm enjoying myself immensely.
I'm still working on the room downstairs, unpacking and setting up an area the children could hang with their friends. Though one half is bath and laundry room and print center, all functional from day one. I'd like to entertain but I look at the space and wonder where people would go and how to get a house with limited flow to do just that. It's more a summer place than winter when the outdoor spaces and be used. But I want to share it with more and more guests. I'm thinking New Year's....perhaps...darling you know many the local police departments have gotten grants to put more officers on the road this holiday season. Please be smart and driver sober only.
I have first edition of The Miracle on 34th Street that I just may take the time to read for the first time this year. It's been brought out and put on display year after year. With William Dean Howells' Christmas Everyday, Washington Irving's Old Christmas Sketchbook, Agatha Christie's Hercule Poirot's Christmas, and the standards....'Twas the Night before Christmas, Gift of the Magi, and A Child's Christmas in Wales. At one time I was a well-read chick. These days it's all work stuff I have to know over want to's. That I'm going to change.
My big Tom cat snores next to me with his snowy white belly to the ceiling and paws curled in...totally relaxed, totally trusting...the way I hope to be one day with a partner who will hopefully find me as charming as I find my darling good boy of a cat. It's a happy place here for all. I just have no earthly clue how to share it or if I want to...
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As well as it's going, there are moments when I have to quell down panic. There are financial nets in place that will lighten as time goes on. Well theoretically. Theoretically my earning potential has increased as well. But there's the deal. The ex and I relate better these days. But I forget when it's relatively harmonious how quickly he can act less than respectful. Or that any day he could fail to do the things he must do. Those moments take me back to the beggar I was before the settlement and enforcement. I mean really take me back...my heart stops or palpitates, I feel the prick of tears, and I start to feel the house of cards collapse around me. Eventually I come up for air and figure it out. But I will make mistakes. And one I usually make is to be rather gullible.
I am rather fascinated most by my single male neighbor. Mostly because this is the first time I've lived near such a creature in several decades. And I'm curious how singledom is for males. From what I've gathered there tends to be a lot of work and going to the gym and grabbing a bite at the bar. And dogs. Single men go for dogs. Okay so yeah, sweeping generalization there. I'm talking older single men. Late 50s into 60s. This girl's not going a cougaring again. And 11 years older has generally been a sweet spot for me. Though now 11 years seems rather oldER with caps as it's over 60. I'll get there soon enough myself no doubt. He never left his shades open, but has started the past several days. I think I'm rubbing off on him as I "forget" to lower mine so he can watch things unfold like a tv show. Only for a few minutes. But I'm not watching him. Even though I'm curious.
Note to self: do not fuck a neighbor. ESPECIALLY if you're kinky and squirt like a fountain. Don't play in your own backyard! He's damned cute though. I'll just window shop...
A conversation with one of the guys who run the parties. The last one was filled with a higher proportion of asshats than usual. They weren't respectful. And yes, you bet you can be utterly respectful and still raunchy and have a hot time. Respect is a flash point with me, so I won't be going back for a time. I'd prefer to build either something more relationship oriented or gather a couple of additional FWBs. A good long repeated weekend long fuck would be heaven right now.
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Is it funny that I put on my new silky Chanel lipstick at home while I type, just for me? I do adore lipstick. A traditionalist that way. Perhaps without a kiss my lips remain just hopeful. I'm enjoying the time I've given myself to continue to settle in, though deadlines clamor for the next week or so and I'll end up working at least a day this weekend. Still, I have the freedom to be home some nontraditional hours so there's time to plan and cook real meals. Tonight's chocolate souffle was a rare pleasure and no, I did not make it from scratch. Whole Foods, darlings, has perfect little frozen packages of twin souffles frozen in porcelain ramekins....all you do is preheat your oven and bake...utterly lovely.
I've gone back to the old house again. I told the family I was formerly a part of that they might have anything they wanted of what was left...and they did some of their own shopping there. I went back for a few Japanese things I'd thought a few friends might enjoy as holiday tokens, but most had been taken. All the family's gifts I'd left behind as well, offense be damned or not. It's not so sad anymore. The house waits in a way for its next incarnation. Someone will love and make use of it's charms.
I'm lucky in many ways. If you've lived in a house for a very long time, well...you don't see it anymore. Piles stay in corners. Things that you haven't got to stay that way. And possessions you no longer use that take up space stand gathering dust. There's no reason or time to edit then. But I had to. And putting it together a new way means it's all fresh and clean and I've not begrudged myself purchases as needed, a few more updated lamps, new bedding for the children, mirrors and organizing gadgets. Ordinarily I'd make do. But this is good. And the children now have rooms that reflect who they are now as adolescents rather than living with the detritus of their childhood, though it's a blend. They are all very pleased. And this house is resembling who I am now rather than who I was. Though I've learned to be prouder of who I was and what I managed to sort out. And I recognize and value my own resiliency. I feel like I can SEE myself now whereas I couldn't before.
I remain more comfortable with my solo state. Though I talk and have possibilities on the horizon, my time limitations don't always mesh with the time others have available. And when it doesn't now, I don't try to change around my plans as I might have done in the past. I tell them a polite sorry can't manage this week. Funny thing is, saying no builds respect as much as I'd prefer yes. I have a date my next free evening at my favorite place, unheard of in the past...but I've decided I'm going to do what I want to do and if someone wants to come along for the ride by all means join me. I AM fun. An intrepid adventurer. And to find someone of similar spirit is really what I seek. Best start that way and save time for both parties.
I think living in this little neighborhood of varied homes, mostly filled with singles, has given me perspective. I used to see the way I lived as a series of failures. But that wasn't true at all. What I have is a whole album of experiences to share. And if a man doesn't find an experienced woman intriguing, well then let him go for a more unformed female. That's not me.
There's more authenticity now. And that's odd to say since living that way has always been my focus, but sometimes I'd get lost in appropriateness. I'm not always appropriate. I like to challenge in a sexy way sometimes. And I like to make folks laugh. Or at least coax a smile. I'm spending more time getting to know folks I simply like. And I'm learning. And I'm real. Quite a few people knew I was working toward a few really big goals I've managed to achieve these past months. Yes, the divorce was one. I finished a brutal second degree program and have started on a third. And OMG it was HARD. Everyone knew I'd been worked at it when I could for years. The accreditations it gives me now have folks toasting me. I'm no spring chicken. And it's really really lovely to meet folks who knew me now on both sides of it. Before and after and who give me a pat on the back. We all need that now and then.
I've a giant tom cat snoring on the other end of the couch, looking utterly at peace. The children are in their beds. My walk down to the water at the end of the yard today revealed bittersweet in the brambles of the side yard. You've all probably seen it. Orange berries with yellow sepals on a vine. It loses it's leaves so only the berries remain. And it's beautiful. It was my Gran's favorite wild plant to gather and use to decorate above a window or fill a vase. This place also has holly trees with berries red already, perfect to harvest for the holiday. This is going to be fun and beautiful. It's been a long time since Christmas was more fun than work. And this year I think that's going to be achieved.
Going to bed alone. And looking forward to it,
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The oddest shift is beginning to happen. I'm starting to LIKE solo! T weekend....a few weeks back I was nearly desperate to spend the time with someone I liked. But it just didn't happen as most people have family demands that far exceed my own. So I did my own thing. Mind you, I did pop over to Rock Star's hideout Friday night. He's a bit of stoner, so we talk about the move to legalized marijuana and medical uses. We talk of work as we are in similar fields. We talk of music and Asbury Park the way it was and how it is now. I keep nudging him to get out and perform his originals again, but having met more musicians socially since I realize why he calls himself a hack. He's good, but not great. And nothing of his has yet to make me cry unlike a very few others I have heard. BUT he may be just the friend to help me with my bucket list...this Jersey Girl has never been to the Stone Pony and oh, she wants to go! Summer, I'm told, is the time to go and wander the outdoor space. I hesitate to expand any FWB's role but this guy and I appreciate each other. I think he's more lonely than he lets on. And he doesn't let too many in...when I reach out and ask if he's free he responds that for me, he'll make sure he is. A girl's gotta love that. And if too many weeks go by without connecting, he reaches out to remind me he's there...gentlemen really, why can't y'all just be that simple?
He's a giver in bed. Heavens, yes...and he has a foot fetish which as much as I like to think I'm non-judgemental...well, even I was like ohhhh...IDK about that. But ladies, give it a try...it's almost worshipful. And gives a whole new meaning to a pedicure when you look around the shop and realize you have pretty feet compared to most! I brought a bag of toys at his encouragement. He told me I like a bit of pain. And he's right, I do. It's the endorphins. So I let him tug on nipple clamps connected by a chain. I spend a half hour or a bit more in them most days. My breasts clamor for attention...and I think they're rather marvelous c cups...but other than a nipple pinch or two here and there, men don't usually spend the time they need suckling them, massaging them, pinching, or even biting them...it's such a turn on to even write. Even more to FEEL.
I appreciate Rock Star. Kind, local, real. And very frank about how he's a much better friend than bf any day. I agree. He still has better highlights than I. And a flat iron on the back of his bathroom door...but the guitars hanging from the walls in every room and the lighting everytime I'm there...heavens, he TRIES...and OMG all I want is a bit of effort. I'm so damn appreciative as, darlings, no one tries as damn hard as I do...and it sure is nice when they try.
So this whole solo thing...I guess I wasn't quite. A few hours with Rock Star Friday night. A few hours Sunday brunch with my dear elderly friend who loves it when young women take him to the local luncheonette...But I DID drive to Philly solo Saturday, knowing parking would be horrendous and all. It sure was, but I've nothing if not fortitude. Reading Terminal Market is one of my fav places on earth, crowds and all...Lemon balsamic, oolong tea, pont l'eveque, and Peking Duck all made their way home with me...and a crepe for lunch on the fly...But people, especially crowds, and strangers invading my personal space drive me mad enough to need to leave. I didn't stay to wander and see the holiday decorations though I wanted to. I couldn't wait to get home, pour the leftover Pinot and chow down on the Peking Duck. It really WAS divine. Movies. And tucked in with the cats and stayed home. And LIKED it. I didn't miss ANYONE. Lack of manpillow and all...I'm thinking it's progress of a sort.
The thing is...I used to live in a neighborhood of couples and families. I thought I was the odd one out. Now though, most of my nearer neighbors are single. So I don't feel like quite the odd man, or woman, out as I did before. Truly, for a very long time I found the end of my marriage a personal failure. I was embarrassed so much that I didn't tell a soul I was separated til year 3...
I LIKE this little house. A lot. The water is very low now and mud flats are not very appealing, but the honk of geese and wildlife passing thru still fills me with wonder. My single neighbor works to fill my romantic imagination with impossible possibilities I'd never act on. But I know he notices me. And I notice him. But playing in your own backyard, especially as hard as I like to play, is not a good idea. Still, the single post-50 male is particularly fascinating to me. But then so is the single post-50 female as I learn to navigate this age myself...
Be well darlings,
Pen
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As much as I try to plan for EVERYTHING (leftover from those perfectionist days I'd thought I'd gotten over), I can't. So tonight was that inevitable last run pre-Thanksgiving. I did buy my first Chanel lipstick tonight in an effort to match a discontinued color from a less fancy brand. $37 for a lipstick, holy crap...but oh, it's like silk sliding on. One thing I do have is great lips. And I adore lipstick. I used to hate them...too full. I always wanted thin lips as if they were more dignified somehow. Overblown lips. Overblown ass...that's me. But oh...I'm going to enjoy this fancy lipstick and the dozens of samples she filled the fancy Chanel bag with to tempt me away from Bobbi Brown. I'm a sucker for lotions and potions...always have been since I was a teen and would save my babysitting money to have enough to buy one product at the fancy cosmetic boutique (one purchase and they'd give you a makeover and oh, I love when someone else makes me look pretty). My children get upset when there's nothing for me to open Christmas morn, so I start early stocking up on skin products, wrap them up, and tuck them in my stocking. Practical, still a splurge, but with all the holiday discounts I don't feel quite so irresponsible.
I've been thinking of people as we all do this time of year. Thanksgiving is my fav holiday. No presents, just gratitude. Although my parents had many children through multiple marriages, I was only close to my slightly younger sister and she rarely even texts anymore. So my table isn't so full. But it is filled with folks who LIKE each other and are NOT toxic, so there is that. But I share my children with their father though he seems to not want them this year. Makes my eyes prick to write that and we had words this eve. I don't actually WANT to share the children and so many holidays I spend a portion of alone. But...some things should remain constant in a child's life like family and tradition. But I can only control my own...and they ARE good ones. What a fucking asshole. Sorry but the words need to get out. We'd been getting along, even friendly a bit...but fuck...there is such a low level of emotional intelligence there and just...C'mon y'all...parents who don't want to spend whatever holiday time they can with their children? And mind you these are mannerly loving kids...
I'm trying very hard to not let his idiocy fuck with my head. I'm going to do what I do. He claims he'll text a time and figure something out. Almost better to let him go. But hell, if I were the man's child...I think I'd feel pretty bad. And that's not okay.
I'm craving less. I still want. But I realize I'm perfectly capable of finding my own o's with toys and porn and erotica. Not perfect and it takes 2 a day to keep me chill, but I want a respectful guy. That last party...I don't like how crude men who don't know me are. Now I can get pretty raunchy during sex. And I like dirty talk if there's a connection. It's tongue-in-cheek then...you know? It's all in fun. But without that, it's just offensive. And I hate some words. Please call them breasts over tits. Pussy I don't mind. Cunt, well only one guy can get away with that and he says it with affection. Dropping the F bomb, not a problem. My very round ass, don't call it a fat ass even admiringly. Beautiful. Hot. Any of those work. And for heavens sake, don't talk about the appeal of anonymous sex. I really hate anonymous sex. I might go for it out of sheer horniness now and then, safely. But sex rocks when there's connection. Hell, everything rocks with connection. Conversation. An exchange of grins. A hug. A touch. Even texting.
I like it here, in this new place. And finally managed to put some things on the wall. A bit of art. My tole tray collection. I'd forgotten how beautiful they are. It's a cool, funky, eclectic, lovely little place even if it does have grey walls. And I have some skill working with what I have. The good thing after letting go of so much is that children and I alike have no issue letting go what doesn't work and continuing to get rid of stuff. I'll make another run back to the old house and leave more behind. I expect someone will find a use for the items.
I think I was craving a man pillow/relationship of a guy so badly because I just needed someone to hold on to for a time through the transition. Better to WANT over NEED. And need is falling aside. I'm beginning to think my time may be best served empire building. I can still be mom me, friend me, sexual me...but I think maybe it's time to explore powerful me. I have skills, some of which folks will pay me more of a decent income to use. I like a challenge. And I know I need to be part of more teams.
Ha! It seems I've reminded my ex he is a father after all...I need to remember I do what I do for those I love. And let it go....
I'm saving my time to respond to y'all's emails for my solo time. Your words inspire me and keep me from pulling out my hair or erasing all this rawness I write. When I see mail, I grin. So thank you. And be patient with this sometimes lonely, but increasingly powerful girl.
Pen |
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A thoroughly wonderful weekend...and back to the grindstone sorting out (well trying to find) my math brain. I’m finding myself increasingly in roles more analytical than creative, though this girl wasn’t born to fit that role. But interestingly I’ve found I can learn almost anything. And since knowledge pretty much is the hunger that drives me, it works well. Work at the Hemmingway table this morning with a view of the enormous picture window let me watch the parade of dogs, utility servicemen, neighbors and public works doing their thing as the leaves still continue to fall. It is the longest autum I’ve enjoyed in recent memory; I’d forgotten how gorgeous it can be. I’ll have to go in shortly after a peaceful lunch of avocado toast (I’m trying). There will be a long complex conference just like last Monday afternoon. Ordinarily I am able to synthesize, albeit more slowly than I could in my youth. But the man in the front of the room is distracting in his deliciousness. I’m fond of former badasses. Most women are. It’s why reformed rakes are the hero in endless romance novels. He’s young and brilliant and quirky. Rather beautiful with an incredibly well groomed short buzz of a cut he must maintain himself. And tats...there’s a story to them I know. Perhaps that’s his fascination; I want his story. But we don’t get everyone’s. He’s gay I-know, so it’s not like I-want to fuck him. I simply like looking and listening and wondering.
Lots of thoughts lately of D and the nonsense that went down. I’ve concluded the man behaved badly. But he’s so sensitive I expect he knows it. So he’ll punish himself more than any words i could say. But then I’m the high road girl. I have few regrets about my own behavior and certainly none in the way I both responded and communicated with him. Not now. But I’ve pretty much concluded my business was what he sought most. And that level of disingenousity pisses me off. In the past I’d be pissed at myself for falling for it. But not now. I’m giving myself a whole lot more of a break than I ever did before. In retrospect what I did manage to do this past decade plus is astonishing. And the fact that I remain a mostly positive female whose greatest joy is seeing the people she cares about smile is a fucking miracle.
There’s more. There always is in my brain. But time to stop playing hooky and go try to listen more than look at the beautiful man...muah darlings.
Pen |
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I'm pretty proud at this evening. A surprise. A group of young boy/men, a son of mine included. Add fire outdoors on a cold night and give them hot dogs & marshmallows with a big pot of mac & cheese...well, this is the way to use this place. Share it. So damn much fun. Jokes, blowing out burning marshmallows, laughter...and managing the pyromaniacal tendencies of all boys not to burn everything that can find with leaves still falling...I think we looked like a tribe hooting around the fire and scared away the geese and deer this evening. But O-M-G what fun...Darlings get yourself an ecolog. I know WTF is that? Lower carbon output and you can cook on it. It's the easiest lovely 4 hour fire without undue smoke that you've done. And I'm a girl who knows how to build and keep a fire...but y'all knew that already I suspect. An older friend of mine called mid-campfire. He said there aren't too many people who would cook dinner over a fire outdoors in November...try it darlings ..it makes home that much warmer when you tuck in at night. And then I came in and still managed to meet a midnight deadline typing away...Maybe I just forgot how much I love a house full of surprises and laughter. That I can do. Oh my big grown son...a brilliant hug along with "that was the best idea ever" "can we do it again?" Again and again...yes we can.
Pen |
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I’m resisting the uncomfortable things I am feeling rather than just letting it be. Hell, if anyone is familiar with uncomfortable feelings, it’s me. And the one thing I did learn dealing with past losses is there’s no quick way to get to the other side emotionally. Especially for me as I hold on like a koala and an eucalyptus tree. I’ll take what I feel out, explore, analyze, take note, discuss, and then try to FIX it when emotion doesn’t need fixing. I am beginning to think it just needs its time. Hell, what I feel is a compendium of entirely appropriate emotion. But this girl is afraid of feeling bad because she thinks she’s going to get stuck in the mud of it all and not be able to get out. Which is complete bullshit of course since I’ve already shown I’m resilient as hell. But I’m also passionate. It’s great between the sheets and I’m fun to take to dinner and converse with. But heavens, piss me off and I’m equally passionate in my displeasure. That I’m less fond of because my words can cut effectively and deep. And hurting folks, even when they beg for it, isn’t really what I’m all about. I’m going to be uncomfortable. Maybe for a while. And oh, I do crave comfort. A relationship and that delicious sense of heat and warmth and a rumbly male voice I’ll hear with my head on his chest...I can close my eyes and want and feel it so much. But my emotion...I don't think there’s a guy out there who is going to get it. And he’ll try to fix it if I say anything with “look how far you’ve come...how you’ve prepared...where you are now...”. All true. All I know. But right now there’s a disconnect between what I know and how I feel. So as much as I want support, I’m probably too armored up to listen. Such a contrary creature...and I’m usually the one telling others the same. A flock of geese on water this AM, tide on it’s way out, honks that make me grin, warm tea, equally warm hugs from kiddos, and a day ahead of opening the new place to a few more people...it’s a start. Pen |
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I may revise my characterization of feeling "lonely." Lonely implies depression or sadness. And I'm not sad. It's more a curious feeling I haven't felt before. I hadn't realized there were so many of us solo folks out there. My old neighborhood, just blocks away, was filled with families and couples. Here it's a single car in the driveways mostly. And an endless parade of dogs, companions for their solo'ish owners. I'm more conscious of it. Before the move I was the odd one out, now I suppose I fit here though I have a family, if an increasingly mature one at that. But those of us who work non traditional hours are hear during the daylight many days. IDK I'd think folks would be friendlier to each other. Help the widow next door, that sort of thing.
I do at times wonder about my emotional state. There is a craving for a relationship. Or okay, IDK if it's a relationship I crave or simply some of the elements of one I miss. But I grow frustrated with folks. Heavens, I put SUCH effort into most of what I do. But others seems to just not. I don't want to get stuck on that idea as certainly I was conscious of the same disparity in my marriage as well. And looking at any relationship as a scale needing to be balanced and feeling a perpetual consciousness of disparities is not a happy-making state of mind. I need to get to just fuck it. And for the most part I have. But truly darlings, effort is not really so hard to do. I think most folks care less while I care deeply. But I know my passion is my strength and I'm not willing to give up strength of feeling for peace.
I think I've just limited myself a bit more than I should with my continuing education, the move, and mostly non meaningful sex eating up my alone time. I'm working on more, but damn if I'm not like all the other rats in the maze not looking up at the sky. My girl reminded me of the same. She returned home a few days ago, looked at me as if for the first time, and said "you've had your hair done" as my color is pretty flexible in it's red tones. I hadn't. My response of "darling, you need to look up more." And so do I...
Pen |
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I have a bit of a time of it dealing with feelings of loneliness. I've certainly experienced the sensation plenty. But now it gets to me. I choose to generally fill my weekends sans my children as full as I can. At some point I'll let myself be and let myself feel it. But oh, I crave the rumble of a male voice, a chest with a bit of fur to tuck my head on, and conversation over drinks at a local watering hole. Simple things.
I'm finding the parties are beginning to raise my hackles. I want to be with folks who are sex positive. But in a decidedly male heavy population, I can feel a bit like a juicy steak and men together don't always behave as well as they do with a woman alone. Though it's true men do bring their A game when there are other men around. Hence, fucking more than one in the same vicinity in a night generally is a quality fuck. But more and more I'm finding attitude that just turns me right off.
One man who was perfectly interested and gentlemanly to meet, turned into some sort of make believe Dom. Nice cock and all, but his approach was icky. And he kept spanking my flank after I told him no, not there. On the soft tissue of ass, sure, I don't really care. But start hurting me on muscle tissue and fuck off. He kept returning with increasingly rude suggestions. Now in a guy I have a connection with, talking dirty is fun. But this one...sigh...he eventually began talking about cum. Now I have what is nearly a fetish about cum, but there aren't many men I will let cum in me. This guy I just shut down with an "I hate cum." And eventually took him on, telling him if he didn't stop slapping my flank after I'd told him multiple times I hate it, I will have our host remove him from the premises. He left after that.
Another guy after that who was more gentlemanly I didn't even fuck. I suspect he was there to indulge his bi curiosity as are many men. Hell, I like bi men and generally find them more sexually evolved than the rest of us. But there's a crowd of married men who hide it. A bi male who is open with me is far more appealing. Such decadence to share. I miss the older professorial man I dated a year ago and especially his openness about his bisexuality. But I can't restart something there when I know he would get hurt. And eventually his pedantic speech would piss me off again...sigh....and he wouldn't fit at all into my family life.
So this guy...romantic approach. Tall, fit, ginger (and as much as I'm a redhead, I don't really find redhead's appealing myself!) Rather like a cuckold in some ways. But then IDK. I thought at the end of the night I would at last get to indulge myself in a true threesome. And really Latin men are amazing...so there was that. But ginger seemed more content to watch and talk dirty. At one point he said something about me liking to fuck men I don't know, thinking it was a turn on. Actually I don't like fucking men I don't know. I simply know I do better when having regular sex. And a party is little more than scratching an itch unless you form your own social circle there. Ginger used a few more words...TBH does the same...normally I wouldn't like it. And I didn't much with Ginger. But you know how "kitten" can sound so endearing from the right mouth and denigrating from the wrong one? I hate the word "cunt." But I've let TBH get away with it when used as an endearment. It stretches me with the right connection...some of these words...hell, I've called TBH my "fuck toy" out of absolute adoration of the guy. But that's the thing, without connection I'm just offended. And I'm a hell of a girl to get offended by words...filled with a big cock attached to a man I trust I turn into a dirty mouthed raw fuck toy myself.
I keep waiting for menopause to hit. Hell, I'm 52. Though friends have told me with a drive like mine, it may stay strong. But part of my drive to play so hard has been this notion that once the estrogen in my system starts fading, so might my libido. Add 12 plus years of a husband who was not able to give me orgasms...well, this girl has been greedy for them for the past decade. Maybe I've finally made up for that lost time. I do know it was one thing to accept a man like my ex and the life we had when I was young and my personality was still more malleable and unformed. Now...now I know what I need and want. An unselfish lover. A giver. Oh all I want to do is give to a giver.
I know my libido is a problem. As can be my temper. But generally I don't get pissed unless I'm being disrespected. And maybe that's the crux of my current distaste for the parties. I didn't feel quite respected. As if I as a woman am being nearly judged and or used for my sex. Rather than two mature equals coming together in the same spirit of exploration. That was missing...that spirit of being an intrepid adventurer. I live that. But darlings it's hard to find mate who approaches life the same way. On one hand I think of trying harder to find a monogamous relationship. Or perhaps a loving cuck. But starting with the fetish over the man never works much for me.
I do know I want a man to share my bed. My lovely snuggery. And I his. And not even regularly. Just once a week, maybe a little more. I've lost the skill of being a hostess on so many levels. But hey, it's got to be akin to riding a bike again.
But then there's the contrary part of me that says just STOP. Stop wanting. Stop looking. Stop trying so fucking hard all the time. And let it come to you. But I'm not patient at all anymore. And there's a side of me seeking fulfillment in quite another way. In contributing. In being the person who wades into the fray and helps when everyone else stands back and doesn't quite know what to do. I am that person now and I find myself doing just that more and more. The absence of fear is quite a new sensation. And I want to share the passion more and more folks are noticing I have...for more than sex...for living.
Pen
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I find myself taking note of my new neighbors’ habits. My old neighborhood was filled with seasonal homes and not terribly nice neighbors. But then my ineffectual keeping of my place perfect didn’t endear me to anyone. My cohorts and I lunched in the area last week and I finally showed them both places. First house: “wow, big house.” I guess it was. New place, less enthused. I like it. And it’s rather like hidden treasure. Until you step out back, you have no idea from it’s unassuming form what treasure awaits.
Yesterday the house needed a plumber. I was nervous, used to a house call falling into the $700 range. But this time. Nada. Omg, there are benefits to renting. The plumber is a smaller local guy. I tried to pay for a cosmetic change, a new wide spread shower head, but he refused me. We talked of the estuary, and local path thru the woods where he used to take his coffee before he got quite so busy. He noticed the few shelves of books I kept...field guide after field guide and we got to talking. I’m a nature chick through and through. Though I know food and art and literature and a bit of science too. What a lovely man. And the shower is heaven now. I may zip back to the old house before it goes and bring the other wide spread shower head back for the other bath here.
A gorgeous day. My children’s friends showed up. I love the sound of experimentation, exploration, and laughter. We all headed to an athletic field. Far more games in my life this week than any other. Between TBH turning me on to the World Series and the odd local football games...well, it’s been an all Americana beautiful week.
Back to the new neighbors. Quite a few singles here. Truly in this Mayberry-like clone of a town, I didn’t know there were so many others like me. My old neighborhood was quite different. There’s a woman nearby a few decades older than I. Fit and young 70s, she travels extensively and seems to fill her home with either dinner parties or bridge once a week. But hell, for all I know, she could be swinging over there. The man across the street a few years older than I...he reminds me of how I imagine TBH to live though he doesnt’ work quite so hard. Local business owner. Rides either a truck or mc to pop into work. Seems to grab dinner out more often than not and an occasional either GF or FWB parked at the street. I wonder how they see me. I’ve have only one car parked on the street early in the transition here, but I’ve pretty much let the young D go. I think he’d grate if I were to even see him again. He demands such intimacy for one who give so little.
I’ve come to the conclusion it’s time to date for real. Hell, I’d invite TBH to stop in his travels for some truly exceptional weekends if he weren’t so driven and overburdened. Plus, quite frankly, I can’t have the man here before he has me there. It’s just too reminiscent of past mistakes otherwise. I like him though. I like him a great deal. And I feel for him in how hard he works and tries to do the right thing. I admire that. And there are few men I admire. I’d love to take him for the best Margie’s ever...and crash into bed together after an Uber home, giggling and spanking. We both love adventure and it’s very difficult to find a kindred spirit like that. I crave it. And I just simply like him.
But I expect it might stall as it often does. Maybe I should try harder. In any case there’s the semi local guy who is a lovely date. And other opportunities. IDK I want to quite explore them all. I’d rather decide and delve and bury myself in the deliciousness of one man I trust and could possibly adore. But it seems so complex to get there. IDK why. It’s all rather simple to me. But I do desire a man in my bed whose cock I could treat like a lollypop. Rest my head on his thighs and just explore his cock and balls with my mouth. Or better yet, have him ratchet it up a bit...pull my hair, squeeze my nipples, spank my ass, push into me in one smooth strong perfect stroke...bite my neck, manhandle my breasts, spread me wide and fuck me very very hard. Sigh...where are you darlin’?
Pen |
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Why is kinky sex so much more deeply satisfying than fucking? My analytical mind says it’s the endorphins from the element of pain. It’s a bit sick to say it, but I enjoy when my body feels a little beat up from hard rough fucking. I LIKE the slight abrasion on my throat and chin from beard. I enjoy being manhandled, breast sore and sensitive as if he still had his hands wrapped around them. And oh, my puss...I’ve been fucked so hard and on rare occasions fisted that I’ve bled a little. No darlings, I’m not encouraging the practice. But I admit I sometimes look at a man with slender or small hands and well kept nails and think...hmmm...I bet I could take that. That a tremendous turn on for me...being made to take more than I’m sure I can. Limits pushed. Particularly sexual ones.
But remember aftercare. Aftercare is love to me in many ways. That tenderness. A man bringing a warm damp cloth to clean up the mess my puss is left in. Pillowtalk. All I seem to do anymore is discuss pillowtalk. It’s all intimacy. That’s what I truly crave. Intimacy in it’s various forms. And the comfort level and mutual support to just be. And yeah, on some level I crave a relationship. But y’all know the thing with relationships is sometimes you end up having to do things you don’t want to do, spend your precious time with or doing something for another. That’s hard for those of us who fall exhausted in their beds after a day taking care of others. And maybe even harder for those of us who’ve been alone so long, forged routines that make our lives work, and have trouble leaving our comfort zone.
I’m trying to do a great many things to expand my world. It’s pretty expansive as it is for a woman with children. We are a family of adventure seekers, big and small. We all want to bring excellence to those things we are passionate about. And we are all passionate folks. It’s not easy to find others in this world who have the passion I do. And I want to be with someone I desire, adore, and just get a kick out of. I don’t have to like everything he does, but I sure do need to love his energy and approach to life.
I ran into CW today. I do love him while being equally glad we are no longer in a relationship. He’s a bit much for most folks to take. Larger than life. The man never seems to age, but much of that is the medication he must take to survive a chronic condition. He’s tough SOB. I like that. I like grit. Determination. Work ethic. People who can be themselves and don’t always conform. I’m not as open about my non conformities. I fit in anywhere just about. Well as much as a single woman of a certain age can and there are plenty of us out there. We rather adore our singledom and coming of age. But darlings, here’s a secret...I love to shock. To say or do something, usually a double entendre, that startles...perhaps makes one blush...and then finish with a grin. And oh, the naughty stories I’d like to whisper in an appreciative ear. The problem is I get aroused too and invariably would want to fuck...but my choice of whom is becoming more discriminating.
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I’d forgotten how busy my regular life is with the responsibilities of family. In a world of largely overscheduled poor planners, things change on dime. As much as it’s against my orderly librarian soul, I do far better with my time filled than empty. Y’all have seen... or read rather. Heavens I can’t just be still anymore. Time somehow is meant to be spent and spent well. I’m too aware of it’s finite nature. I’m beginning research on mortality and how we talk to those approaching death. How we as Americans don’t want to face ours let alone plan for it. Like it or not, our time is limited so for heavens sake spend it well whatever that means to you.
Lunch today with my lovely lovely cohorts. We’re trying to figure out a way to continue our training sessions together since having someone to bounce ideas off of is critical to success and comfort. But it’s not easy to do. Lunch. My weekend and TBH were of interest. They’re so lovely, these women. “Good for you” they tell me as I indulged myself and showed them pictures of what I call the “princess room” I stayed in. One woman took a look at the tester bed, raised and eyebrow and queried “now what did you do with that?” LOL...had my timing not gotten screwed up by a family emergency Friday I suppose I would have been better prepared. I did manage to at least pack stockings though the effort seemed lost on TBH. He actually prefers my skin...now that is charm.
We relate differently though we are both chill enough to spend pretty effortless time together. I’ve found a new love for watching sports naked. Though there are few men I would ordinary do that for, I found myself drawn in by TBH. I expect though I’ve found myself again in that classic conundrum of wanting a man more than he wants me. No doubt he likes me, probably a lot. But I am drawn to him out of proportion to what our interaction is. IDK why I find him impossibly sexy. His wit. His playfulness. His work ethic. His body, though his slender fit form is not my usual type. His lips definitely. He may have the single most glorious smile I’ve ever seen and I make him grin lots. It’s a beautiful thing. Truly lovely big cock too, but sex is more about him than I yet it doesn’t seem to matter so much. The vocal component truly pushes me and I think that’s why it works so well. That man can have a truly filthy mouth. And I think I still feel scratches on my ass from his nails. But then his nipples are driving him mad. Perhaps my fav moment was after we wrestled like monkeys and lay there breathing hard grinning at each other. I’m damn strong for a girl, but he is stronger. Shhhh...don’t tell him I said so...
The weekend went a little hunky Sunday. He had to leave to do an errand he’d mentioned prior and asked me to join him. But the sheer amount of time and driving it would take and my need to do SOME work had me saying nope. He’d asked if he could return Sunday eve perhaps. I was of course delighted at the thought and told him so. Evening rolled around and I texted to see if he’d managed okay. Essentially the convo broke down into staying home tonight with a margarita. WTF? I was less than pleased and let it roll with some rather choice words. I did apologize. But clearly my appeal is not....well...just not. And I want someone who is as passionate about me as I am about him. I don’t think TBH is very passionate about anything thought there are times I catch a glimpse of someone very like me who works his ass off and wants so badly to do the same in play.
I adored having him as an exquisite man pillow more than the sex even. Unusual for me. He’s a delightful witty companion. Social. Great with people. And there were times in the night when he wrapped his arm around my middrift and pulled me closer that made me think, okay, this could work...but I even reached out to cuck who will tell me like it is. Essentially it is clear he likes me but that’s about it. Hell, that’s not so bad, but it’s not bells and whistles. And this girl...well this girl deserves a fucking marching band. I think as much as our sensibilities mesh, we don’t really understand each other. But then all our interactions are a departure from our regular lives. We are each other’s escape. It’s a wonder to have that. But until we step into each other’s world’s up close and truly personal, that’s all we’re gonna be.
I felt quite terribly disappointed and lonely Sunday evening. I figure it out though. Did my work. Found a porch and oysters and dark N stormies to help me along the way. It was a truly dark windy and stormy evening. I put one foot in front of the other to the local pub. Solo no less, not easy for me. But there were a half dozen folks all watching sports and chatting and welcoming. One was a retired AF officer who lives in one of my fav towns nearby. Our conversation continued to the public space at the inn I was staying to the wee hours. I’m a strong proponent of everything for a reason. So maybe feeling a bit bereft enough Sunday to find a warm cozy place with people was what I was meant to do. We’ve continued our conversations and he’s extended an invite for me to return to his neck of the woods or meet inbetween.
It’s funny. It’s not that I have trouble meeting men. I meet people all the time even though I shake in my boots as I force myself out solo. It’s time I got more comfortable again in my own skin instead of just when I’m skin-to-skin. But I want more. I want passion. I want connection. And hell, I think I want more integration of my connections to each other as well as to just me. I want relationships. Good ones. The I-have-your-back you-have-mine beauty of it all. I want it all.
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The wind last night raised my anxiety levels as the sound of wind does for those who have experienced hurricanes. Much like a low flying plane now makes us all stop and catch our breaths. Another dark and stormy last night at a bar that closed way too early and conversation with a lovely man who moved to one of my fav towns down here that I know well...it passed the time. The attention was lovely for a woman feeling a tad blue. And yes, the bed was far too big. And I reached for the robe with TBH/s scent on it that enveloped me and made me hungry for him again. It’s not even the sex. It’s the warmth and companionship more so. And yeah, a lot of it is just me uncomfortable with myself and just craving warmth, both physical and emotional.
I’ve come to the conclusion that part of my issue with sensation, with feeling too much, is that I’ve tried to control attachment and emotion for so long...so when I feel it, it feel like too much. And rather than activating pleasure centers in my brain, it hits as anxiety. And fuck...this girl does anything she can to manage anxiety. THAT I know how to manage. It’s again to an adolescent boy...I have one, so I see it first hand. That flush of testosterone they haven’t felt before...the aggression and energy they exhibit. Most boys are completely baffled by why they are doing what they do. My son has told me himself. They haven’t the self knowledge nor do they know how to control or regulate their response. Sometimes I’m just the same. Though I expect in my case it’s a combo of oxytocin and perhaps fluctuations in estrogen that contribute.
Still this feeling of disassociation bugs me. I may not feel I know who I am now. But I do. And I know I’m that chick who is fully present in the moment. Working on mindfulness today. Instead of feeling lonely, I’m learning that that leftover scent of his on that robe is delicious and to be celebrated. As is the sun shining as I finish my breakfast even though there isn’t a companion in the chair across from me. I get to blessedly write and observe and be. So I’ll just have to keep learning to BE in this new life forged from this patched up heart and tears and a crapload of grit.
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I realize I am ill-equipped to function well in this new incarnation I’ve forged for myself. I talk of how I’m on the other side of it all, and how lovely the new place is, and how I can leave behind relationships that don’t work for me anymore or feel remotely disrespectful. And it sure seems like that’s all the case. But truly I feel unmoored. Home WAS the house I lived in for 20+ years that was falling down around me. And my back up was my grandmother’s home and that’s gone too. So now home is just me and some place in my soul I can’t quite find. I’m clinging to people in my past in an effort to find someone or something to hold on to so I don’t just float away adrift. But that’s how I feel.
I am disconnected from whoever I am or am supposed to be. Quite frankly, IDK how to live and be and where to go next. Without my children to do for, or others...it doesn’t seem like there’s anything to me. Like I’m all words. But like my substance is just disappearing. I don’t know how to be when I feel this lonely. I know I’m not really all that alone. But I feel absolutely abandoned sometimes and it cuts deeply. I don’t even give credence to feeling. It’s all perspective. I think I get vulnerable and feel need and that young vulnerable child I once was finds her way out of my heart and into my head. And it drives me mad to want and need so much that I just cry. Like a weeping uncontrollable 2 year old in a tantrum. Well not quite it’s more sad than mad. But damn it, I’m a grown ass woman who wants to be tucked in and coddled like a kitten.
Maybe my fault for going all affectionate with TBH and indulging my desire for closeness and that man pillow. It softens me. It makes me care and I have no fucking tools to deal with caring about anyone but my children. My darling friend here tells me I deserve it. That I deserve a non d-bag who values the quality I can give. But I end up fucking it up. I have a terrible temper. Like a child who wants what she wants. I want hard. I want passionately. And my mouth ends up getting ahead of me and my words cut when I don't’ get it.
IDK what to do. At present I’m going for a drink and light convo with a friendly bartender then walk back to a very elegant bed the size of a football field I’ll toss in.
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I get to frustration level fuck it much quicker than prior. I suppose since before the divorce I just had to take it and deal and didn’t have much power to change anything. Though that’s not quite true. It was in process of change though it felt like running on a treadmill. One foot in front of the other only I never felt like I got anywhere. This now, is real change. Big change. GOOD change. And quite frankly, I don’t want to share my time or space with assholes. Or even those lesser than assholes when are simply clueless and unappreciative of me. I enjoy the folks I meet. I’m the girl who partners up with the persona non grata in the room who is left out because of some annoyance or difference. Inclusive. That’s me.
I learn from everyone I meet. Now that means sometimes people get attached. But hell, I get that. Y’all know I get attached too. But I can’t always be that person’s go to. I can’t be their newfound BFF. So there are boundaries. Kindness. But it took this girl a long time to find boundaries. And no one’s fucking up my parade anymore by stepping on my toes.
An early conference today. Reconnection with folks who have known me and mine over a decade and wanted to talk all the changes. It feels good to get those pats on the back, literal and figurative. The one thing we all need is acknowledgement. We need to know we’re valued, a priority, and special individuals. And we need our efforts appreciated. Well this is me saying thanks y’all for your emails and kindnesses as I’ve bled my heart out on this forum. There were times a kind word read here tipped the balance and got me thru. Thank you.
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Wednesdays my cohorts and switch taking each other to lunch. Sometimes it’s so rushed it’s a quick slice and other days like today we can take a few hours. No one else in our lives really gets us the way we do each other. Professionally only we get it. Our personal lives differ and they claim to enjoy living vicariously through me as I’m the only singleton. Both are delighted by my weekend ahead. A fabulous room in charming town with the potentially charming TBH. They said, wait, I thought you said no more of him? I grinned and said “I changed my mind.” No expectations. I don’t even care the way I used to about having sex though close proximity to a delicious man tends to stoke that libido. But pillowtalk and sharing an experience and some good food and drink together works splendidly for me.
We talked of D today at lunch. I listened to their suggestions last week and told him I missed him...way more touchy feeling than this girl’s comfort level. I think it was lost on him. In any case, aside from a wishy washy voicemail, he’s not behaving like a FWB let alone a friend. And darlings, I’m done feeling bad for one minute over a guy. We were there for each other in ways we both hadn’t experienced before. The man got me thru some really hard stuff. And I appreciate him for that. But a friend is someone I SEE. And with all this nonsense, it wouldn’t be enjoyable to dine with him or certainly not to share my bed. So enough.
This brilliant peaceful new place is not for sharing indiscriminately. It’s a haven and anyone who doesn’t contribute to my joy and peace doesn’t get to come thru the door. It’s still a work in progress much like myself, but I have my old gate leg Hemingway table set up and clear so I can write in the center of things where I prefer to be. I even bought myself fleurs to continue to celebrate Freedom with a capital “F.” Talking to my cohorts today about how different I feel, how I feel like I don’t know who I am here...I realized it’s because it’s not HARD. I’m so used to complicated and messed up and hard that I don’t quite know what to do with simple peace.
I’d forgotten, living with a creative type for years, that I have my own creative side. It’s been easy to forget as I’ve become this nearly unrecognizable analytical femme so different from the wide-eyed clueless wannabe princess who could only feel (and feeling nothing very good at that). I’m good at working with the cards I’m dealt and even better at nesting. Comfort, warmth, beauty and uniqueness are pretty much my hallmarks. I’ve come to the realization that I’m going to be the one in charge in my personal and professional lives for a very long time ahead, even though I’m still not quite sure why. I’m a good leader. I’m inclusive. I’ve little tolerance for bullshit and am apparently intimidating enough that folks aren’t apt to deliver it for long. I’d forgotten all that about me. Really I’d forgotten me...and now it really is a whole new world.
IDK why I’m in such a state to straighten out and define relationships too, as if my unpacking and organizing should extend across the board...it needn’t. But I really am free. I could date, have a guest over, and do all the things I cautiously avoided before the divorce was final even though the marriage was long over. I’m a conservative sort on some levels. I want this place to live and be full and peaceful and be a haven for more than us, because that truly is what it is.
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I’m beginning to think it may behoove me to talk to a counselor as I continue to transition into this divovced person I am but haven’t quite figured out how to be. I don’t even know if it’s about being divorced. It’s akin to that feeling post college when I decided to leave my hometown for NYC. Everything was new. Resources slim. And I had to be very very brave. Back then I was a sweet young thing and beautiful enough to turn heads. I also got more job offers based on my looks than my brain. All of those I was smart enough to turn down.
Now though. It’s not so unfamiliar. I remain in the same town though being this side of the main drag is a very different experience. I take completely different roads to get to most of my regular errand sites. I don’t drive home along the water in the morning but I walk to it. I’ve taken to leaving binoculars in the upstairs bath as perhaps the best view from this odd house is from the shower. Early morn an enormous buck was picking his way through the water at low tide. My sons manage to kayak til about 7 feet away from the protected creatures here as they continue to drink from the brook.
I’m getting to know the birds. Twin brothers, the blue jays, who come together find tasties in the areas os the lawn the deer churn up. Honeybees. Someone must have a hive around here. The usual squirrels. Schools of bait fish and visiting carp swimming past in the water. I put a bench at the end of the yard which seems to have replaced the big chair I used to have in my bedroom but no longer fits in these smaller rooms. A teenage friend of my sons stopped by to visit the water and talk of his problems with his brother. My younger too is fond of the same spot, though he usually prefers on or in the water to watching it.
I still return to the old house for bits that I find I can use after all since not every thing sold. Though needed, I think it was a mistake mixing business and pleasure with D. It is never good mixing money with friendship. Another day of no communication on both our parts has me letting go. This is too much thought. Too much effort. I’m at my core a wise investor. If the time, energy and emotion I invest shows little return, well then it’s time to get out even if it cuts a bit. Yesterday the children and I discussed how astonishingly quickly they heal and how much longer it takes older people to do so. I’m not particularly quick at healing, but I eventually do. I’ll consider that a blessing.
I’d taken a break from typing as my younger two started arguing in the kitchen space that seems to be where everyone loses their temper. It’s very narrow, poorly designed with appliances tacked on her and there as afterthoughts rather than integrated into the design. But it is modern and clean with appliances superior to my own in the old place. The lighting needs work too. But the problem falls with a family who is accustomed to cooking together and spending time together in the kitchen. We can’t do that here. One person can’t pass another witty the refrigerator open. It’s a singleton’s kitchen. And we gripe at each other and fight for space. I’m working on it, but other tthan adjusting to it, I havent’ found a way to make it work.
I think the old place fostered family and community in it’s spaces, for all its faults. This place is more open in some ways, but the children spend more time in their private spaces than the living room or outdoor room. I hope I will be able to change that but they are adolescents.
The tide has changed and is coming in fast since I returned to the outdoor space. This is truly the best part of the place. I’m thinking an early evening campfire might just bring them all out.
I have noticed driving the various streets to get to this house that I was quite wrong about my idea of finally being able to live like everyone else. I suppose to me that meant a clean, well taken care of home with reliable heat, hot water, and electricity. A house that wasn’t falling apart around me. A house I’m not embarrassed by. But I certainly wasn’t the only one in town living barely ahead of the wave. You’re busy. The repairs are endless. You spend 20+ years in a place and accumulate more and have piles of stuff you’ve lived with for so long you no longer see them. It takes a major life event to truly edit. Lots of folks have messy yards and broken fences and work to do. Hell, most. I think I just lived in perfectville with way too many grumpy ass neighbors. Here I’m closer to the properties next door than the old place but it’s more private. Quiet. Clean. And just a little bit wild if I go out to the private space in the back, but from the outside it’s as tame as can be. Sort of like me. Or how I used to be. Quite frankly these days I’m not sure what face I’m wearing out in the world. Still kind. Still caring. But a bit more “deal with it” and selfish. Next weekend I take a long weekend for myself, my reward for the sheer grit and hard work it took to get to here. I’ve been here before though. I work years towards a goal. Then I get it. And I’m hmmm..WTF do I do now? Keep going I think. But I could use two strong hands on my shoulders and I sit here and type and a kiss on my forehead and one damn big hug.
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Yeah, so I told D I missed him. IDK that it makes a damn bit of difference. He’s fine with it all. I’m not. But then I’m already feeling this has gotten way more complicated than I’m in for. And I can feel myself begin to maintain distance. Not hard since he started distancing himself first. But then he has struggles with the blues so it could also be just that. In any case, he was here just when I needed him specifically. And it was lovely for a time. But he is impossibly young and doesn’t realize what I do. That life can change on a dime, so grab it now. Live it now. Don’t let one opportunity for connection go by, it that’s what’s important to you. And that is really what I live and work for...connection.
So my libido is quieting. I wonder if my estrogen levels are lowering as they should in my early 50s. Or maybe I’m discovering I’d rather adore the man I fuck. I think I’m discovering the connection I seek is more than sex. I really really really crave pillowtalk. Time in bed skin-to-skin. Stroking and being stroked. Kissing...oh I miss kissing. You know when your kissing and it’s so delightful you feel your partner’s lips smiling under yours? Heavens, I want that. And yeah, I sure would love to love...but love seems to come with expectations. And I’m thinking maybe a few expectations aren’t such a bad thing.
Fidelity. Yes, I can be monogamous if both agree. Though I’d explore with the right guy. Physical presence. As busy as I am, once a week seems a simple thing to manage. Is that enough for a relationship? IDK. Sex sure. But intimacy more so.
I’ll admit it. I’m lonely. And I don’t live alone other than alternate weekends and one eve a week. But it feels like it’s a whole new world out there. And I am no longer attached even by threads. But I’m a girl who lives connection. Personally. Physically. Professionally. It’s bone deep. I am connected as I am still the confidant to most. But I want the balance of being taken care or as much as I do the same. I really need to be treated as precious to just one soul. And do the same for him.
But tonight, fuck it. Ha! I’ll turn on the electric blanket on my bed. Not look for texts since everyone assumes I’m still too busy with the move to talk. And I’ll tuck in all warm and lose myself in my new series The Finder. But first I’ll look at the progress today thanks to my stellar son and his drill. The hump of the pot rack finally up and loaded. More moved to vertical space as necessary in small spaces. Kayaks out today with the high tide. And furniture repairs to the damaged pieces. Not bad.
If I can’t have connection, I’ll celebrate progress. That, at least, I’ve finally achieved.
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I am the elder. I am the confidant. I've always been the keeper of secrets so tell me they do. I don't particularly want to be, but if there's need I serve. Yeah, y'all thinking she's such a sub! But that's not it at all. I'm learning the other side. To reveal. To ask. But damn it's hard. As much as my skin looks thick, it's not. Certainly it's better than the sensitive young woman I was, hurting at every perceived slight. But in my center, post marriage and post cuck, I am still the woman not chosen. Not wanted. And that consciousness, as old and wounded as it left me is a sore spot that still plagues me. So I manage expectations. And I manage attachment. I leave first. I make sure to have other options since I'm never sure if anyone will actually follow through or show up.
My cohort today...she told me to simply tell D when next I hear from him that I miss him. I do. I miss a great many things. And a very few men. I miss D. I miss our easiness. I miss TBH. I miss his wit, his skin, and his grin. And I quite definitely miss our conversation. The sound of his voice. But then missing...wanting...makes me decidedly uncomfortable. I just keep thinking if I can manage not to want or expect, there's no heartbreak. I want ease and joy and love, sure. But I'll be damned if I walk into a situation again where I get fucked over.
My friends tell me I say one thing. And I push men away. But that I want a relationship. Of course, who doesn't? But I am finally free! Is seeing a man once a week or so sans the children a relationship? IDK too many who would find such limits satisfactory. But yes, sure, I crave deeper. I crave mutual support. I crave physicality. And I crave full knowledge and celebration of who the other is. I suppose I should decide and go after it. But it's been a long time since I've wanted any guy enough to pursue him. I'm too conscious of my own dignity and preservation.
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Time to get back in touch with friends. Friends I'm not sleeping with, as busy as we all are. Darling Dom this evening. Oh, I've missed him. But he is deep in a relationship with a lovely woman, so such takes precedence as it must. I'm happy he's found someone who truly appreciates him rather than the past girlies who've taken him for granted. He is the best of men. Kind. Helpful. Generous of his time and knowledge. And without pettiness. I'm privileged to know him.
He advised me...(and I wrote it down lest I forget) to have a discussion with D. Ask what does he want as a minimum out of this friendship? And determine what I want. Then does it match up? Does it overlap? Will it work or not going forward? I like it. Real. Fearless. Simple. Of course I'm not sure a 39-yr-old who still thinks he has all the time in the world to find and decide what he wants has any idea what that actually is yet.
I want to see my friends, those with benefits or not, a couple times a month. Add benes and it's more like weekly (not daily) work schedules providing. I don't need daily contact nor daily calls. But benes for me come with snugs, sleepovers, sharing a shower now and then, and breakfast before beginning the day and going our separate ways. Not very much to ask I'd think.
But then there's the other part of me that would love a weekender. A sleep in, fuck fest, time stands still, delicious feast of each other. Now I no longer have to nor will I be quite a circumspect about who I am seeing since I am truly single in every sense of the word. If the ex is late, well, someone may arrive to pick me up. And he's most often late. Perhaps it will teach him to arrive on time. But the children should get that I have a social life and learn from it. It's past time. I'm not talking sleepovers when the house is full. Not for a long time unless he's more than anything I've had before. Then we'll see.
I should be in bed. Or writing something on deadline and far more professional. But the time to get this down is now.
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I sleep well. Better than before. I've mentioned the mold and dust and age of the old place didn't serve my upper respiratory system well. It IS so clean and fresh and there is a breeze here more often than not. I'm slacking at present. Avoiding must do work that soon I'll stop typing here and do. I can't focus. I wake wanting. Not much. I crave spending a whole morning in bed with a delicious naked male form. That heat. The texture. Skin against skin. That edge of sandpaper to morning kisses. A languorous slow immersion in each other. It sounds a damn bit more romantic than my usual "I just want to fuck" and so it is. Texture. I crave texture and comfort and heat.
And I confess, I crave companionship. When you work so damn hard to achieve any goal, you get there and don't know what to do next. And here I am. Oh there's still a ton to do to pull things together here. But it's livable if you keep your eyes above the boxes. And each day I try to make their quantity fewer.
I do have people to share this with...my small family and that is lovely to watch. I couldn't find my girl last night. She had tucked herself into one of the hammocks out back last night with her music. I found her (for the second time) fast asleep out there and giggling as I woke her to find she'd done it again. The children are adjusting and happy enough. Though I no longer have the chair in my bedroom for all to visit and tuck in with me as this one is too small. New routines are in order. Now I make rounds myself, but I'm missing that ritual.
I suppose on some level I want to invite folks over to both share it and say "See? I came out okay after all...". IDK where the desire comes from. But it IS so very quiet here. I adore the peace but I'd like to see some life and hear a little noise. I'm not a country mouse but more a small town girl. Though this is only blocks from the main drag, it feels like another world. And those places are made to share with someone you want to be with. I think on grey days and in a house not as well lit as the old, my solitude is magnified. There's no sound at all but of my typing the keys and the occasional bird call. I'm not sure I like it. Such a contrary puss...
Work calls.
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I'm expanding. A good choice when anyone takes up more thought and energy than he's present. Been there. Done that. Not doing again. A party last night. And though sure, they're shallow, I like to flirt. I like to drink bubbly and get loose and watch folks fucking and fuck a great deal myself. I like big cocks. And generally the men who like to play at a party are sporting either confidence or size and either works just dandy with just a little skill. I admire beautiful men though I don't particular want to keep a gym rat. I check out the most fit...reach for their hands. Soft hands and no calluses means it's all gym muscle. Now kudos to them for their efforts, but the man whose calluses match his muscles turns me on. Rough hands on soft breasts...the contrast is delicious. But I'll admit I love cock in all it's variety, though uncircumsized less so. Foreskins are tricky to manage in a bj and I end up getting directed. Directing a woman with your cock in her mouth is generally a recipe for getting said cock right out of her mouth...
Made it home late and was cooking dinner at 1 am as I prefer to save eating for when I'm not planning on doing some challenging fucking. Cast iron pan, steak, 1 am...and yes, the smoke detector works. Me in stockings and dress with cleavage to my waist, well fucked hair, stage whispering "shit, shit, shit!!!" And fanning the detector to get it to stop screaming. I had visions of the local cop & fire department showing up and seeing this girl-next-door all tarted up.
But it's damn fun to get tarted up. I don't usually. The men I actually date generally prefer a non-slut look publicly as do I. But I'm thinking it's time to push that envelope a bit more. And dating shorter men, I leave the heels at home. Time to go tap, tap, tapping down my new walkway again.
I'd realized in my talk with D that I'd been editing myself for him. Going utterly respectful, neighborly, fitting in. And that's me, sure. But really I dislike conformity. I like being able to do it. But I'd rather have redder hair and lips, longer lashes, higher heels and an ass a man wants to bite. And I want attention. I want a guy to want fuck me. I want to see it in his eyes and feel it in his touch. I want to get back to that irreverent girl who makes him laugh and his eyes widen as she "inadvertently" brushes hand against his cock walking beside him. And I want him hard. Impossibly hard. For ME.
But I chose not to call up rock star today as much as I want to. Time to take a little distance from sex and reconnect with friends. I can't focus all this energy in the pursuit of cock. I want quality. And yeah, I want connection. And that's the guy I want to fuck. I'm stuck on the idea of what D and I used to have. We'd get together whenever we could. Dinner, lots of fucking, tucking in, pillow talk, sleep, morning fuck. Shower, walk the dog, breakfast with lots of touching, and then off to our respective days. And I'd hear from him freely texting without worry whenever during the day. It was simply nice. Satisfying. Friendship. And determinedly respectful. Respect is a huge must with me.
I may just have to search for that in someone else. I don't want to edit me. I'm damn well not doing that eggshell thing without crushing them underfoot. And just like y'all I simply want to be wanted in that moment in time more than anything else period.
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I'm confused still again. I had become concerned about D & I getting together at non prime times as the last time or two I was left less than satisfied. Odd though, nooners were once something I embraced. We ended up discussing it though I couldn't put a word on it, he could. Cheap. It felt cheap. Now there are times when you feel mutually supported and connected when cheap is pure fun. But my view of sex is that of pure joy, mutual need, and deepening connection. I don't always need to be made love to. Yet combine lovemaking with that rough needy seeming lack of control (passion, I'd say) and that's why I am so driven to the experience.
Perhaps its more that I've been maintaining a shell. There was a time I talked and felt and cried to others and NEEDED. I still do all the same, but it's impossibly hard to do much of the above about the most intimate things I feel without losing my composure. And a woman who is piling up tissues on the bedside table as she expresses her truth is discounted as hormonal rather than the authentic self she is being. And so I learned to be listened to by tamping down what I feel, what I want beyond fucking, and managing expectations. But I don't want to do that anymore. I just want to BE instead of manage emotion. I want to feel what I feel. Say it. Live it.
Easier said than done when as much as my skin has thickened, I still get deeply hurt by the tiniest indicators that I am not a priority. I've said outright I have "bad tapes" running...my friends laugh and ask if they are cassettes or VHS? Abandonment issues, check. Lack of parental and extended familial support, check. Confidence issues, as much as it pains me to admit something I see as so adolescent, I have to admit in view of everyone else's certainly of my capability and my certainty of my failure...it's got to be a check.
What I am is a great mom. That I can say with confidence. I'm funny, loving, and THERE. My children never doubt they are loved as I did. And they never will. I am super kind to others, especially the misunderstood. Those folks whose ways annoy others, the ones who speak and others roll their eyes...outsiders...I know what that feels like even if they aren't conscious of that dubious distinction. And I defend the underdog tirelessly. I had several cohorts whisper to me as they left our lecture this week "you are a good, good person" as I reached out to work with a woman no one else wanted to on a new project. Lonely kids always have a place here in my home wherever it might be. There is a whole segment of boys, especially, (those who naturally crave being pack animals) on the spectrum or less confident because of their differences who are rejected by peers. These days it's not always overt. But they'll see 4 or 5 boys from their lunch table at school bike by laughing and talking smack and remain confused and sad at how they are never asked to join them outside of school. I celebrate differences. I find brains that work differently than the neurotypical a joy. Hence my attraction to quirky, interesting men...
In my unpacking I've found my stash of books I can't keep on my living room bookshelves. Bend over Boyfriend. The Loving Dominant. The Ethical Slut. Old friends those. Not that I have any desire at present to peg a man, as much as he may feel differently. Dominance, well, I crave more receiving than giving these days. Not being told what to do so much, mind you, that just gets annoying. But to trust a man again enough to be tied...oh I crave it. Or just being fucked hard and deep, being held down, filled so completely...and feeling his weight collapse on top of me for minutes as he comes. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. And then there's post...he rolls off me onto his back, grinning, impossibly proud of his prowess and my satisfaction, and pulls me to him tucking my head on his chest. I'd love a kiss on my head, stroking my hair, and a blessed "OMG that was amazing" tuck in...
I had a discussion with D last evening. Post sex. In my bed. Naked. I suck at this stuff. But don't we all. Essentially told him it was time to end our sexual relationship. He's a talker, unlike many men, hell, most I've been involved with. Discussions of distance, lack of foreplay, missing kissing, and just how the quality and effort of our times together has lessened. I am very sensitive to not being a priority in the lives of people I care about. And I lose trust. I start walking on eggshells. And I become disingenuous. I don't mean to. I don't want to. But once I feel insecure in a relationship, I protect myself. It's really as simple as your time together losing ease. I truly believe relationships don't have to and shouldn't be hard. There are times, yeah. But lose that ease and you live on edge. And this girl is only going edgy sexually.
There's more. I'm confused. We ended up fucking again. And he pulled out all the stops. Kissing. I'm a little fucked as if you've been reading me for a time you know I have difficulty sharing my bed overnight. But with D, damn it, I'd begun to like it. Crave that heat, the possibility of waking up and fucking in the middle of the night, and starting off the day the same. Being taken to breakfast. All so respectful and UNcheap. And then going on with our respective days, grinning and glowing. I adore who D is. He's a good guy and he makes the effort to be a great friend. His concern is losing our friendship. It's a concern. But IDK if I want to be friends with a man I look at and want to fuck. We theoretically left it as keeping it as it is. But theory versus practice after I brought it all out into the open (and it hurt to do so!)...well, we'll see how it goes I suppose.
I do know I don't want him in my bed. Hell, I don't know that I want anyone here, in this serene special place who doesn't want to be fully present with me. I wanted to crawl out my skin and cleanse myself of him last night before our discussion. It felt as if he was disrespecting the privilege of being allowed into this. "This" is here, this serene place, this odd little cottage of sorts. I fed the animals, brought my simple breakfast outside after finally sleeping to 10 am after weeks of 5:30 am. It's overcast, rain drops come and go, but this glorious covered patio remains a haven. Noon church bells are ringing. Birds feeding and chirping, some of which this nature girl doesn't recognize and will learn. The water isn't moving as fast as I usually see it, so I expect its somewhere between the tides at present. Mature pines, holly and oak trees here compared with maples and ornamental flowering trees at the old place. And the children managed to hang a rope swing already from one of the oaks in the back. Hammocks and rope swings wherever we go... THIS is lovely. Now to manage my connections to be the same. Maybe that's my issue, the word "manage." Maybe I should just let them all go and see who or what sticks.
IDK darlings. Advice would be welcome. I don't want to leave everything behind. But I do want to progress and simply be with folks I appreciate who appreciate ME.
Pen
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And so I've said my goodbyes to my big old house. After giving the children one more round at making sure they took all they needed, I turned off the main breaker and figured that was that. But later I realized the heat was still on so returned solo to turn it way down and did a walk through. Nearly a spiritual experience. I felt as if I didn't do the old girl, the house, right as the next folks who take her may likely tear her down. And thought I should just say thank you. And so I did. As I walked through I saw the trim where all my children's heights were marked from birth to nearly present, took pictures, but nearly took a crowbar to it and brought it along. It can be reproduced.
I felt as if I were leaving her worse than she deserved, the house. After all she did shelter us through births, the decade I lived there with my ex and the decade without, the hurricane, and heavens...all that came in-between. But then I looked at the elements I left better. And I did care for the home as best I could for a time until I couldn't anymore. It's been a few years she's looked like a down on her luck iffy lady house. But there's still that base of beauty. And really it's the longest time I've lived anywhere, so I suppose it was home although I'm reluctant to give that placeholder to any but my Gran's cape. So whatever prayer I uttered or silent thoughts or energy emanated...I hope someone makes a go of her. I'd like to see the house continue, problems and all. But it'll take more resources and money than I have.
So goodbye old girl. You were appreciated and loved and sheltered me and mine through more than I can express. And I'm grateful.
And I'm teary even though I know this is GOOD. The timing of so much has reinforced the rightness of the decisions I made months ago. And at the time I was just hoping I was making the right choices rather than being stupid. Well it seems this brain can do more than put words on a screen. And it both looks and feels like a really GOOD progression.
The new house is only blocks away. It feels like a new world. I can still hear the church bells. I enjoy that. But I rarely hear road noise. It's a street few but residents drive down, but everyone for blocks walks their dogs past the front picture window. I've seen dozens of goldens, labs, the doodle ones, the little fluffy yappy ones I don't like as much, and the occasional Newf. I love the Newfs. But then y'all know I'm a size queen.
Ha!
I suppose it's the water that makes it so different. Watching it rise and fall each day, flow changing with the tide...it makes change seem less frightening and more, well...normal. My youngest called me down to the water a few mornings ago. The carp were back. Big fish, some 24-36" long, near the surface of the water. I could see their scales. It's like a big version of koi pond in the backyard that I blessedly don't have to take care of. Last night there were deer at the end of the yard. I watch geese swimming upstream in the morning from the window in the shower and it just makes me breathe deeper purer air. This is the sort of place I search for. The off the beaten track natural places I pack up my children and road trip. But here....here I don't want to leave so much. That is decidedly new. And I think it should be shared. I'm still working on how to open it up and become that hostess I was once before where I lived became a place we weren't comfortable bringing other folks. It will start with my children as it already has with old friends stopping by and helping them unpack. It's a beautiful spot and another odd house, this one littler, just as we needed.
I've managed to find toys again. Though as I talk to a former neighbor it becomes increasingly clear that in this part of town everyone knows everyone else's business. I'm not apt to swallow down my proclivities and stop. But privacy and noise control are elements I need to address. Darling Dom already looked it up and mentioned the trees one could be tied too...ha! Funny man. Not here. But I can see and feel an opening. Blossoming perhaps. I do know my things that I kept look differently here. I see them again. I enjoy those elements that made the cut, what I love. The children are less happy with more limited indoor space, but I expect that will come in time and when they are fully unpacked. Or perhaps they're just grumpy with takeout for a week...(Are you EVER going to cook again??)
D and I have business to discuss tomorrow evening. I expect we'll do more. Oh my. I just used the word "expect." That's new. Quite frankly it would be divine to just have a bf experience and tuck in for one night, arms around me and my head on a furry chest. I've been in charge of too much. And this move has pushed me physically (I still hurt in every minuscule muscle I have) and in my temperament. I'm less patient when there was so much, seemingly endless things to do. Unlike me. But perhaps less patience would serve me well at present.
It's so warm here. Instantly. I thought I'd miss the big radiators. And perhaps I will in winter with wet snowy clothes and nowhere to dry them. But a little chill and boom, that high efficiency furnace that's so small it fits in a closet, warms the house in 10 minutes then it's off. I'm hoping I'm pleasantly surprised by utility bills. This is going to sound odd from a chick who so much likes to buck the trend, but I feel like a normal person. Like I can finally live like other people live. Though that's not quite the right expression. Lots of thoughts. Lots of serenity. And still plenty of work to go.
Pen
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Nearly all done with my move, though I go back to the old house to pull still more from it and load up the back of my truck. Mirrors from the back of doors, fancy hardware hooks, shaker peg racks from our impromptu mudroom, and the pieces that didn't sell from the sale I couldn't quite walk away from. Still...this is less. And one thing downsizing does while you're still reasonably capable is force one to order. The pictures for example, a box here and another there, some at the bottom of a fancy tin, all over the place...you manage to organize it all in one place, so the unneeded can just go. Paperwork, however, is a bane. I'd forgotten the girl who filed and alphabetized and kept track and had the most perfect everything including records. Heavens I must have been insufferable. Shred versus recycle mixed paper.
My first experience with movers, though my father and some of his sons have made a living at it for years. Under the table money and he could hide it and not pay support. They pretty much sucked, though nice enough guys. But careless. Missing pieces, damaged the few good things (not that I care overly much, but still I PAID them). And def not the most professional crowd. Like a group of adolescents. I tipped them well all the same as they did seriously hard ass work. And we'll see if the company ever makes good on the repairs.
Odd little house this is. But we are going to be happy here.
It's sad going back to the old place. She looks abandoned. And so she is, though I always thought of her as an old lady we had to keep going, it's just a house. I think it looked like someone didn't really LIVE there for quite some time, even when we did. So much work I couldn't keep up with. My ex has already made a last minute excuse to see the children one eve and drop something by the new place. I had him wait at the curb.
This is the first time I've lived in a real neighborhood. I'd always lived and been quite at home on busy streets. The quiet, the lack of road noise, it's amazing and not that far away. At night I hear tree frogs and an occasional quack. And the ice maker in the freezer. It makes a noisy girl worry what I'll do should I have a guest. I joined Apple music at last, figuring this musical ignoramus needs some cover noise. Already I know who is who on the street. Now of course that means they know of me. I wonder how I'm described. Divorced, long time town resident, parent...and nice. I'm less nice now than I used to be.
I've been such a workhouse pulling this together and trying to leave no trace behind of who I am. It's meant nada play solo or otherwise. I'm almost afraid to stop, to lose momentum. I hurt. Muscles tight. But at present I hurt physically only. Not emotionally or mentally. Though part of me wonders at how charming this is coming together. Slowly of course as tweaking it and making small spaces work for 4 people, particularly in the challenge of a kitchen, is tricky. The lighting and grey fashionable walls in the main area are awful but that too I'll figure out. I'll save a fortune in electricity I hope.
I feel as if my body chemistry changed. I've had a hoarseness to my voice for years. And after 4 nights of fresh air and open windows, well there feels like there's more room in my head and throat. Ha! You evil men...not for that purpose as of yet. I am curious as to what solo feels like here. Soon I'll find out.
To bed.
Pen
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It's time I weaned myself from D and that "younger men have such great energy" bullshit. We all have great energy with sufficient motivation. He did ask me to dinner this evening. I could barely spare the time, but I know it is good for me to de-stress. I paid for dinner when he excused himself (keeps me feeling in the Dominant position). I did not let him stay and that's new. I don't think he can figure out what has changed. There's only one man I've ever called my "fuck toy," and that said completely endearingly. But I'm beginning to understand what a fuck toy is. For all my libido, I hate the word "play." Or "the lifestyle." Yet I love sex and certainly have it often, and great sex at that, without emotion to clutter the purity of sensation up. But hell, even I know sex with emotional connection is beautiful. And I do want creampie intimacy. I want to fuck my guy regularly and be completely filled with his cock and cum. I want to carry that bit of him around with me each day, as I feel my panties moisten as his cum slides between my thighs. I want to hold on to him both figuratively and literally. It might be time to chose narrower options.
Pen |
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I'm so confused anymore. IDK if I want to relationship-ize a man I'm interested in or not (ha! As if it's all my choice!). But oh, I crave someone to curl into just one of these nights. I'm in charge of EVERYTHING. And I suppose I usually am. But everything right now is too much for one person.
So much for keeping my bedroom in the new place sancrosanct. Yeah, D & I already fucked there. Maybe I AM a slut. If so, I'm certainly an ethical one. Friday night's date and I had a discussion about Maslow's pyramid of self actualization. Sounds way more intellectual than it is. Look it up. The idea is you have to take care of basic needs before you can look towards more relational and personal fulfillment needs. I.e. If you have no food to eat, you aren't going to be worried about finding work or relationships that nurture you. You have to eat first.
I've seen sex on the base level of the pyramid along with food, shelter, warmth. Basics you need to ensure survival. But then sexual intimacy is listed further up the pyramid. Now I'm a basic sort of girl at heart for all the complications that come my way. And there's nothing simpler than a good fuck to me. To be scheduled regularly, just like breakfast/lunch/dinner. Just add sex to the day. Makes me happy, keeps me loose, and connected. I believe it. But perhaps it's just my rationalization. I need to have my life make sense to me intellectually. Treating sex as a basic need on the to do list makes sense to me. Now yeah, once you get skin-to-skin sex feels a whole lot more than basic. But that view keeps my moral compass in check.
D...heavens I am fond of him. But now that I've fucked him it's like I got my fix (oh dear) and am okay without for a bit. He's quirky. I like men who are different. Heaven knows though I married one of those and that didn't work so well. He's not a man who would appeal to everyone. But I find him attractive, his eyes slay me, he makes me laugh, and he is vocal in bed. I know I need a man who is vocal in bed...
He pushed the rapproachment. And I pushed back. I realized I was adjusting myself to fit into his and my neighborhoods. Dressing more proper, behaving more so too. And stagnating with boredom in the see and be seen scenes we've been pulled into. NOT me at all. But women do this. And I certainly do. I mirror him and his interests. But it's time I just plain stopped. I let my inner cat out. Teased, tortured, challenged him. Verbal gymnastics. Eventually it lead to a discussion about rough sex. How I like it. But I know he could never go there. He was offended! LOL. Just like when a guy asks if I think he's kinky and I invariably say "no."
I grabbed him, pushed him up against the back kitchen wall, hands pinned above his head and asked him if he'd done anything like THIS before? It DID turn him on. He claims so with an ex gf. But IDK. He did manage to secure my arms behind me as he began kissing me hard and spanking my ass until we managed to see someone coming up the walkway from the corner of our eyes. Oops! Best wait for window treatments. And sure, yes, we did fuck eventually. And it was marvelous. There is some serious chemistry. But I should've stayed away from younger men.
I will say this. For all my craving for a man pillow and a nice relationship to finish off getting my life in order here...I am beginning to feel and live rather bad ass. And bad ass is pretty much what I aspire to at present. You tell me gentlemen...is badass more appealing than feminine and nice in a woman? I'd like to know.
Be well,
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Continuing my efforts to manage my attachments...sigh...what a lot of bullshit that all is. I should just let myself fall and feel. But even I recognize that's not going happen unless he's all in too. One way I deal when wanting a particular guy who is not available is to date another.
Last night was a lovely date. A great, great local place I hadn't been before but will be spending way more time visiting, this time with my family. Dark & stormies, sunset view, outdoors, fire pits to ward off the chill...conversation and an attentive date. It's odd though. Each time I meet him I'm surprised at how attractive he is and tall. But then as our time together goes on he seems less attractive. That's opposite the way it usually goes for me. He's clearly interested. Has a real job. Takes great care of his children and spends 50% plus with them. Has invited me to his home. Check, check, check, check, check. And did I mention he has an enormous dick? Check! So WTF is wrong?
Well he's not recovered from his divorce in February. He lives in what was their house. Much like I did. And I find the time capsule makes the air in the place heavy. Too much stuff. And he's still in the zone where he likes stuff. Big house. Big boat. 4 cars for two drivers. His ex's decor and maintenance projects ahead into ad infinitum. I get it. I was there. But his baggage is more than palpable. It's all around him. And that would be okay, if he weren't so much a director.
At the restaurant, at his home, driving directions, sexually...he directs me. And that darlings is fucking annoying. And he's NICE. But I see shades of OCD/ADD. Not that he's alone. Hell, y'all know I admire color ordered clothes on hangers and alphabetized spices. I actually find OCD in a man appealing. But then I adore quirky men. But this guy's idea of who he is doen't really match what I see. And if I get directed one more time on keeping my leg straight or not to squeeze my pussy when I cum....seriously??? That's called not cumming to me. But he tries. And I do think he sees me. Though more as an experienced and smart girl than a vulnerable one.
I guess I want someone to see all of me. The desirable and less so parts. And to find my quirks and imperfections delightful as I would his. But that's not happening.
I did have a conversation with D. I reached out for his opinion on a personal issue he had knowledge of. And we began discussing more. He thought we were together last week. We weren't. He asked me out to dinner last night. I had to say no, sorry, I have dinner plans. He didn't leave it. And this isn't the first time he's asked last minute and I've had plans. But this is the first time he asked if it was with a friend, family, a date? And I swallowed and said "date." More questions. And he did say he snoozed he lost. But he'll be here during the day tomorrow, when I will have a family member here to ensure no intimacy. We have business to discuss.
D offered the "more" we do. That's code for fucking folks. I sort of tripped up with "oh, you still want to do that sort of stuff?" He was flummoxed. "What do you mean?" And It seagued into my date conversation. How I figured we were moving past such things but of course valued our friendship. Think "blah, blah, blah" here and you'll get an idea of the bull shit coming filterless from my mouth. He was like "wait, didn't we go to blankety-blank last Thursday." Nope. That was several weeks ago. I did mention I really missed the jewelry I inadvertently left at his house weeks ago so it would be great if he could bring it. And he told me let him know if I need help with the move.
I should've said I'm the one who doesn't want to have sex with him anymore. Though I do. But I'm attached. I think. IDK if it's emotion or just that natural desire that happens when you don't see a someone for awhile. I hard to bring anyone into my topsy turvy home at present. And the new place...the new place is a sanctuary of sort. No guy has shared my bed there. And I'm stuck on the idea my new bedroom should be my soul space for lack of a better word. I don't want to be in my bed, haunted by a man I want. Whether it's TBH or D. Neither are here. Neither wants just me. And I think I'm transitioning to wanting a guy who wants just me. But fuck, I do believe that's called a relationship and I would have to give a whole lot more than I've been giving.
Am I selfish? Wanting to keep that space pure? Maybe I'm looking for that long lost innocent Pen who did relationships and cared oh so so much. I still care. I can't help but care. But I'm really lost. It's a whole new deal. It's good. It's serious ass progress. But darlings, this Pen is different from who I thought I was and what I thought I wanted. I want both less and more. And I"m still figuring out what that means.
Pen
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Push me/pull me bullshit. Ever read Dr. Doolittle? Or seen the old original movie? There's a llama like creature with two heads and four legs called a push me pull me. It has trouble deciding which way it wants to go. So too apparently does D. There's a lovely local bar/restaurant tucked away that mostly locals fill. Occasionally live tunes. Female only bartenders which I like. Women take care of women. Especially us older dames. D found it mentioned in a review and sent it to me. Talking of how he wanted to go sooner. I told him I'd take him one eve. Now he's poking around to try to slide into my weekend ahead after saying he could stop by Sunday only to take some pics for the final sale. He offered whatever else I might want. But no.
I say I'll try anything twice. Well I tried to reconnect with him twice. And the ensuing unsatisfactory sex also twice. There's no reason to repeat any of that. Of course in prepping for another joint biz venture he'll be here. But you know what? I did what women do. I edited myself for him. I tried harder. I created time for him. And looking back on my calendar, it was good for 6-7 weeks. Then I started to feel eggshelly. Either I started to want him more or he started to try less. Isn't that the usual way of it?
But I do know I have not been my usual irrepressible self with him. The confidence (even if it is only a fake it til I make it act) has been dim. Time to toss all that nonsense out. And just be. Be the woman who tied TBH to a chair and had her way with him first date. Be the woman who works her ass off then gets in her car and road trips her solo weekends away. And be the new chickadee in her multilevel little nest. This IS going to be good. Tonight I had my rather large and very strong son help move still more bins and the mattresses that arrived in boxes. These magic Amazon hybrid memory foam, gel, whatever mattress that come in a box and take a few days to get back to size are the funniest things. And very very comfortable it seems.
My girl took over the back table outside like I usually do. But we ended the evening tying up my camping hammocks between two trees that looked ideal and they were! Hammocks before beds. I could spend an easy night in that hammock and just might this weekend. I used to spend nights outdoors on hammocks before the kiddos. And one of the most gorgeous nights of my life was spent in a hammock between the masts of a sailboat. I still remember my ex horrified at bugs and noises anchored on the Chesapeake. While I wrapped myself in the hammock and nary one bothered me. There's something wonderful about moonlight. I think it works magic on my skin. New agey folk like my sister know moonlight cleanses crystals, perhaps it cleanses hearts too. Mine could use a good clean out.
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I felt as if I were going to cry all morning. IDK if its the move, though truly the new place has become a refuge. The tidal water moving at the end of the yard, this time east & out to the ocean, soothes. I had my lunch here at the table outdoors covered with a low roof and the freshly painted concrete patio. It's beautiful. And there's wind in the trees. That sound of leaves is more peaceful here. At the old house there was always the concern of where to park my car in case another branch fell. Not well maintained by me in my last years there, but resources were short. I suppose like the divorce this is another deconstruction. The last remainder of our lives together and left to me to sort out until I am truly out and then my ex gets the mess of the rest of it.
I was a steward of that house and its history. Of the endless artifacts, painstakingly tucked away. Such effort and time I must have put in for years...and for what? Boxes to tuck in an attic? My friends are aghast at how I will just walk away from what doesn't sell and leave. No one understands why I wouldn't store everything until I need it another day. But that's the key. I won't need anything more than this. Anything I adore has come here with me, carefully. The rest is just stuff. I value people, moments, and experiences over stuff any day. And I can see this place being all about just that.
Of course I blamed most of my edge of tears morning on D. But that's partly bullshit on my part. I simply don't feel particularly wanted right now. And there are times I need that. I just realize I want to date who I fuck. A party is a party if I'm not dating exclusively and can scratch a multitude of itches. And there's always that attention I want. I'm somewhat abashed to admit I want attention as if I were a child. But I do. And I want to be wanted the way I have wanted a few men. It makes me grin from ear-to-ear. But so too do other activities. And those I'll work on at present.
Today was the day I scurried to my car with a bag of rope & chains, another of various other delicious toys, and the whip/cane/crop which don't fit into any bag. I figured best get it in the back of my new bigger closet while most folks are at work. There's still endless paper to tackle and oh, I don't want to. That's the most depressing part. And these days you then have to get it shredded. Well I suppose with kink in the house, it's got to start sparkling. Now if I can manage to find my sparkle myself. I feel like a trudging dusty Clydesdale going round and round. And I so want to run away. But I won't.
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I'm puzzled. Mixed signals frustrate me. In this case it's D. It went from pretty fucking hot, mutually supportive, nice and respectful to well...less so. There's still the shell of it, but no real substance. And the last two times the sex went to not so fab. Not terrible, but a one shot deal. From multiple times that just seems...not seems...IS unsatisfying to me. Quite frankly it took D to teach me I don't just want to fuck, however strong my libido is. I want to date the men I fuck. And I'm not adverse to cutting that down to one man I date & fuck & might even get attached to.
I'm decidedly miffed at D. Last free time I reached out, which is harder than you can imagine for me. No to that. My schedule is predicatable. And he's tried hard to see me in the past. But lately, nope. And his suggestions have gone down to one and done day time things. No thank you darling. It's not worth doing the laundry for a 10 minute shag. If I'm going to devote the time, my attention, shave most of my body, lotion/potion/smooth everything, and dress like I didn't try...well, fuck...you've got to try back.
But we women don't tell men that. Mostly because it's supposed to be a mystery why we smell so good, our skin is so smooth, and our lashes so long. And heaven forbid we talk or expect much of anything. Idk...can I tell a guy to his face, no sorry, we aren't having sex anymore? See a woman would want to know why. A guy would probably just shrug and say "okay." But what if he asked why? He won't. Who would want to know the answer to that?
I did reach out again to a guy I dated a few weeks back. One more try there. Quite frankly it would be a good break and I'd like to be with someone who I know wants to be with me. Bad tapes I suppose, too. It's my own personal baggage that feeling like some one I want doesn't want me makes me more upset than the situation should warrant. But hell, who doesn't need to feel wanted. Ever tried living with someone who didn't want you, let alone like or loved you? It's about the worst feeling in the world. Right up there with seasickness to me.
I am happier with women these days. My cohorts. Other women of a certain age. That mutually supportive sisterhood. But I miss that man pillow feeling. It sucks since I finally learned how to sleep with someone only to find now I like it and miss it. I end up dreaming far too often of TBH which is totally weird since I haven't seen that man in months. Then I wake up to find myself wrapped around a pillow and I sigh in disappointment.
I don't even need it all the time I think. Though it would be nice to have a regular thing. I'm just still afraid to want anyone enough that it hurts. Still trying to manage attachment. I still feel it. And I still want. But there's wanting to a point where I can somehow just shut it off. IDK if it just becomes that uncomfortable. Or my heart has trained itself based on the past few real relationships.
I haven't had D to the new house. He doesn't know where it is. And part of me wants to keep it that way. I have this notion that the first guy who shares my bed there, at the new start, should be special. Should be one I want to keep. I don't mean marry. But I do mean someone I want to keep a part of my life. A real one. Real time. And who I am the same. It's really simple. I don't think I'm communicating well tonight since I'm not really sure what I want to say. But this bugs me. With D. Inconsistency bugs me. Be who you are. Be with the guy or girl you want. And be real.
Up and down isn't real or consistent. And maybe I'm an adventurer at heart. But I'm consistently so. It's just so odd since a few weeks ago he was all over the place trying to help me sort out things. And then serious withdrawal. That's how I feel. So I'm writing it down.
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Part of this process getting me to here was the loss of a few old friends. It's not so much that they picked my ex's side as mutual friends will do, but rather that my marriage imploding made them terribly uncomfortable. After all, if it could happen to a couple like the world thought us to be, it could happen to anyone. The endless timeline of it, more than a decade, would try anyone's patience. And for a long time I felt lesser for my lack of power to change things.
Yet now, weekly something happens to reinforce that timeline. To validate those choices. Another notice today brought it home that the move is absolutely the right one to happen and the right time for it to occur. Such a complicated dance for all this to pull into place for my little family and I. I'm beginning to inhabit the new space. It's starting to feel right and good. And the old tired and broken. Though of course it's not. But our time here is nearly done. And what is important to us will come along.
Peace and stability. I see it already. And as I do all I must do to get our life transferred, there is less I have to do. So there's an easing. And a certainty. I've been a long time without either. Positivity. I still get lonely now and then. I am the solo adult pulling this off. But...folks have shown up when I needed them. And I'm finally able to say "yes!" And thank you.
I visited CW today. It had been a very long time. He asked me how I was. I couldn't reply with anything less than "Great!" He looked startled and happy. Great is new. He checked out the new to me vehicle for me as a car guy. I visited with he and his father. And as he knows the history and the ex's family well, he asked me how good it was to finally get paid? I just received a court order in the mail of automatic enforcement. It took some months doing, but I'm beginning to understand just why the previous years were so damn hard. This is way way better. And there are opportunities ahead that weren't before.
So damn many hard decisions. How I lived and didn't go mad from the stress is a wonder to me now. Well of course it's that I'm not alone. I have this wonderful team in my children and ours is beautiful life even at it's less than ideal moments. Sex would be nice. Darlings, please do tell me your adventures as mine are on hold for work, work, work for a bit. Porn, dildos, and earbuds must do for now. Add the hitachi and it's a stopgap. But this girl is going to need to some serious fucking in a few weeks.
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Vision is beginning to replace fear. Well no, fear is not the right word, though it's certainly a familiar sensation. Vision and hope fill my thoughts more than feeling stuck. And I've felt stuck in the mud for a very long time. Today I stopped at Whole Paycheck (that Whole Foods for the rest of y'all) to pick up a fruit platter, rolls, good cold cuts for the week and a tiny bit of prosciutto for the melon since it feels like a summer day. My fav St. Nectaire, a little wedge. And a stop at the local bakery, blessedly open Sunday morning. I'm declaring it a "Happy Everything" day and that's just what I had them put it on the cake. Arrived home to a crew crowded and smiling around the pastry box. "What is it? What is it?" I'm declaring more "Happy Everything" days. And casual brunches where all gather where they will fill plates and bellies and hearts. There's work to be done, but I'm a strong believer in what I call my "carrots." I'm a workhorse at heart after all. And I'll work harder yet when I know I have a sweet carrot waiting for me at the fence. There are rewards intrinsic in what I do. But I'm giving myself a very real reward post move back down near the water with a crowd, live music, and lots of grazing good food and oysters galore. TBH might be in the vicinity but I don't care much as I meet folks everywhere, particularly the rest of my tribe of post 50 women who I am adoring more and more. I'm beginning to understand why cubs adore us so much...wobbly bits and all...
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I was in bed at this late hour, post 1 am, weepy at the blessings I have. Though I'm in the middle of a move right now, I get communiques from a friend or two now and then checking in. And my small family is a great help, though the youngest one not so much. That boy I will need to work on. Those who take their unhappiness out on others are not who I choose to spend time with. And when you're a parent to a son who does the same, well something's got to change there. Consequences galore for now. But I think it's going to take more.
A friend told me "What ever you got to do to get through. Make it a part of your past as fast as possible" as I asked her how she managed her own move so well. "Just do it. Dont dwell on it. Just get it done." She's right. I'm still feeling bent over and pain from the attic transfer. Thank heavens my sons' very strong friends came to help get the boxes down. As I take things from the walls and our home stops looking like a home they ask me, "how can you live like this?" I haven't a choice at present. Other people move. This is just perhaps more deeply meaningful than some.
I truly had forgotten my own timeline. I know roughly when I did what job all all that. But specifics nope. Finding my post college resume in the attic papers, and old business cards, all my perfectly organized tax records back when taxes weren't remotely complicated and got paid early. My children's few baby boxes of note I chose to keep. All the notebooks and typewritten (yes, back when we had typewriters not computers) papers, my thesis...and even handwritten letter from friends, family, and my first love. I was a VERY organized young woman. My handwriting is tiny and perfect and I've no idea how I managed such perfection. I'm digging through my own personal time capsule here and it's just plain weird. I'd forgotten completely the girl I was before. I don't recognize much of her in this mid aged, family first, sap I am today.
It is both physically and psychologically exhausting. I am ready to leave past where it belongs and move on in very real ways. So I edit mercilessly where I can. The sheer volume of paper and magnitude of what I kept is still overwhelming. The stuff...heavens...I'm tucking away the traditions I keep and the letters to go through another day in the small attic at the new place. Building beds. Carrying and bending and lifting. My body feels it everywhere. But...it's progress.
Word is getting out of my new qualifications. Unbelievable to me that I got it. Such support and kind wishes. And kudos for the years it took me to wade through the muck to get here. I keep meeting 50 something women like me who are out there trying something new. We understand and are so damn proud of each other. It's a beautiful thing, a sisterhood of sorts. As my friends text me with a few new letters I'm entitled to add after my name, I look at it and think...who would've thought. Me? Best get the more personal components done so I can work on the professional ones.
But I'm at heart a nester. So creating our collective new one is a challenge. The lower ceilings change the scale of everything. And these odd modern spaces. Well not really modern. But it's certainly less than half the age of my old one. I feel as if all I do is work and work and work. But the other side of all this is close now. Funny though how things work out. The timing seemed so fucked up to everyone else. And a bit to me. But now it's making sense in ways I didn't expect.
Wish me a strong back and a stronger heart darlings. I wish you passionate nights. I'm certainly not getting laid anytime soon so be sure you do and let me live vicariously through you for a few weeks...
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It seems things are looking up. Years of sheer grit and effort are starting to come to a culmination. And as much as I kicked myself for how long I took to get here and lost friends who became impatient with the timeframe...well it seems this was the best way for it to work. Certainly better for my children. Hard as hell for me. But damn. I am actually really really proud of myself for sticking out HARD stuff. Those friends here who have read my endless prattling know. And darlings, accept my thanks. Sometimes a word or two in your emails was that tipping point that kept me going. There's so much but I must DO over write at present.
Xo
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I counseled a friend today about her fear. And afterwards as the experience percolated through my brain which seems to reflect with automaticity, I realized I had fear too. I wouldn't deal with a qualification I thought I failed at as I couldn't deal with one more thing at present. But I realized it was fear too. IDK if it was fear that one more thing would put me over the edge, because I can handle a great deal of shit. Or perhaps it was a level of public embarrassment. But a good decade with a man who sought to humiliate me at most opportunities helped me to thumb my nose at that thinking. Or maybe it was a perceived character flaw. There was a time or two when I've just left and quit come what may. And more than once I've achieved a goal only to find once I had it I didn't want it anymore. I sure have mixed feelings about this one. But it's a game changer. It's my fuck you to the ex. And it give some assurance that my children's futures rely on someone more dependable and capable than their pater.
Today I was brave. In a workshop we had to discuss our primary values from a list. My first, over family even, was "adventure." Adventure covers it all to me. Raising my family and having children was perhaps my greatest adventure and continues to be so. Loyalty. Finding that is part of why I step out of my comfort zone so often on my adventures. The leader laughed at another choosing adventure in third place with "oh you must be young." I'm decidedly middle aged but I seem to be aging in reverse. Or perhaps I'm just a rebel.
Whoever I am, I'm going to keep on keeping on. Progress might be slow. And yeah I'm a tortoise. But damn them all I'm still getting there.
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So damn horny. And very focused on creampie porn, searching for thick cocks with huge loads. I was awake last night til the wee hours talking to one of my cohorts who relocated. She's lonely. Her husband is military so she sees him every 5 days or so at present. New lovely house. New neighborhood. I was a marine brat for quite a few years so I get it. And our issues are not so dissimilar even though our children are nearly a decade apart. She has begun practice in a new discipline that's very unlike our previous training. The vocabulary of it comes naturally to me, so we talked the talk. She's an angel truly and doesn't see it. All she sees is how rough and city she is. I grew up street too so I get that sense of self consciousness; I was desperately so as a young woman. But I've lived in Mayberry here for longer than the rough neighborhoods of my hometown. So the vocabulary and the dress and the manners are part of me, though my Gran raised me to be a proper lady. It's just me who wants to shrug that proper lady off so much of the time. She is one of my favorite people in the world. And like me it is difficult for her to share and ask of others. But she and I are both learning new ways of supporting each other and others. Frank talk. Being there. Learning to chill. And being there. There are more folks who have my back than I imagined. And I'm a good one to have yours...
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It's a struggle some days not to erase previous posts. But unedited teaches me things, so I'll wince and leave my words up. A lovely night followed by a drive home. Though at present I have two homes, so I thought a morning out back at the new place would be a lovely place to have my tea & croissant and to continue the peace I found here yesterday AM. It's so quiet. Reeds and peace and the little bit of water I can see at the end of the back lawn. And a remarkably clean outdoor space. The ceiling is even the headboard I'll miss from the old place. But everything is lower here. The ceilings, the sky, the view. Whereas the last place felt expansive and was more than I could properly care for, this feels like an enclave. The Irish would call it a "snug." So snug we will be.
I'm curious how many animals will visit us here with trees and the water and some less developed property nearby.
A good night. As much as I appreciate and need words of support, I find physical touch essential. I wonder if my desires are less sexual and more tactile in nature. I took a drive to D's place in his lovely town last night. A late dinner al fresco. Our favorite dessert and a fabulous waiter. He's a funny man. A little neurotic. Likely OCD, but then It gives me pleasure to look at his collection of perfectly ordered dress shirts, spaced just so, as I dress in the AM. I expect I should be concerned we are not fucking endless times a night. But the cozy element, the friendship, has developed more. The man is compelled to help people. I love that spirit. Sex this morning. Simple, hot, visceral, vocal. But the night was about two tired people who like each other a bunch having a beautiful meal on a rare perfect night then tucking in entwined and cozy. This girl who couldn't sleep with anyone is learning...
I did see Rock Star too. Yesterday afternoon. OMG he's fun. And as much as I dislike the word, I'm sure the word "slut" in lights popped into your heads. Perhaps. An ethical slut at least. Though I wouldn't consider the sex with either partner particularly casual. I'm interested, I care, and both are mutually beneficial friendships. But I also recognize neither man, as much as I adore both, would be particularly good for me relationship wise nor would I be what I would wish on either. I've spent 20 plus years with a creative. When a partner is in a creative field professionally and make their living from it... their art, needs, process takes precedence as there's no knowing when the muse will strike. And if you have a modicum of creativity yourself...well it gets sublimated. How I became this supposedly analytical creature still mystifies those who know me. So rock star and I are lovely lovely friends. D...nearly the perfect personality for me and I for him. But that 14 year differential...he has so many milestones ahead of him. He may choose children. Marriage. And should grow with someone closer to him in age if he can learn to tolerate younger women. I want more for the man than I can give him. I adore the man but I don't want to limit him or myself.
Both teach me. D, for all his youth, is not particularly creative sexually. But he is capable. Extremely capable. Potent. Romantic. And charming. Rock star...perhaps it's a nose thumb to my very proper youth, but I enjoy playing the groupie in private. I have served as muse to a great talent in other ways, so I am curious and fascinated by his process. I have utterly no musical skill and little knowledge so his work is both a novelty and a fascination. His past. The tours. All are a learning process. And the man is fabulously creative in bed. Giving. Massaging. Coconut oil darlings is a wonder...and a foot fetish can make a woman feel worshipped like never before. Sensuality set to music, staged with light and candles, with faint hit of the cannabis pipe I know he keeps in his vanity drawer. I talk of everything as does he. No judgement. Even the naughty toys in the back of my closet. He's not a pain guy but invites me to bring what I will to his loft and we'll explore. It's a joyful thought.
My body is languid but not listless. Muscles long and soft. My skin feels the same but sensitized so the air nearly feels like it has mass. My puss still feels that sense of fullness and well being...that silent "yes" celebrating what it was meant to do. Even my mouth and throat feel released as if all the "fuck yes," "omg, I feel so full" "pleaseeee...," "oh baby yeah's" needed to be said. I'm a raw and rauchy chick when I'm full of cock and a lady much of the rest of the time. Though lately my profanity quotient has grown in leaps and bounds, expressive of the bullshit I've been wading through. But I feel...like fucking is my particular preference for self care. The low buzz of libido leaves my head and I feel ready to take on what I must. Today it's endless statistical reading. But I've chosen the table over looking the water and just discover a new oak tree. I love acorns and it reminds me of the two my Gran planted at our family plot as her husband wanted to be laid to rest under an oak tree. One didn't make it. One survived and is a giant 50 years later. My family and I are going to be the oak tree that more than survives. We are going to thrive here.
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I was to meet a fellow from CS today for breakfast at a little country store destination. Funny thing is once I asked for a pic so I'd know who I was meeting, he got all squirrelly. Darlings if you have that much to hide, please do leave me alone. Sure we are all entitled to be careful, particularly myself as a single woman with children. In many ways I expect greater care and courtesy as I feel I undertake more risk than a man. Particularly a single man without children...that seems to be the only commonality of "type" I have. I suppose it's because they are simpler, can host, and can usually find the time to indulge my limited schedule. But I've always thought I'd prefer a man with children as we would have so much more in common. But my approach to children is not for everyone. And I suppose I'm less tolerant of any children who are not respectful, mannerly and kind. Just because they are young to me, is no reason to tolerate lack of basic skills. Now of course that differs with toddlers. Developmentally they simply aren't capable of many expectations parents have. It's an age to survive and keep them from harm. And one I don't miss. I adore watching my children become such unique and truly lovely people. But then they are my heart. And I suppose in my current conundrum of in law bullshit, I must first decide what is best for them and take the hit. Ultimately, my landlord and I are both caught in my ex's family's convoluted crap. And we both want out I think. We both want no relationship or interaction with such fucked up folks who simply can't communicate on the most basic of levels. And example. I text my ex details of schedule & financial obligations and occasionally questions. I never get communication back. It's texting into a black hole. He will do the things necessary, but without telling me. So out of the blue he will show up to pick up a child when I've made other arrangements. Or funds will show up in my bank account weeks later for an obligation I'd begun proceeding to collect. Mind you with no heads up. Is it a control issue? Is he just trying to fuck with me? Or does his brain work differently? IDk. I do know with a few children on the autism spectrum that respectful behaviour can be learned and taught. And I do know that his is unacceptable.
Ultimately who I married and who I chose to have children with was my choice. So I bear what it is. And I might have to suck it up. But I also need to find another way. A better way. Because the ex and extended family are getting to me. I'd started to think we could have a new better relationship post divorce. But now I'm beginning to understand why I distanced myself from them all. For my own damn sanity.
And there's D. Getting involved with a younger man...what was I thinking? I feel attachment to him. He's funny as hell. Snarky. And is not afraid to call my opposition wonderfully profane words. It feels good to have someone say what I think. I miss sleeping with him. Oh boy. I, who never enjoyed sharing my bed. I suppose I've felt utterly wanted. He's somewhat in awe of what I know and what I've done. And he got to see even more of my history with the sale. But seriously a guy who gets impossibly hard every time he's with you and keeps getting hard...well, it's an ego boost when he kisses you awake in the middle of the night to fuck you. So he has a new client, older, attractive blonde whose ex left her for the cocktail waitress at their anniversary party with grown children. And last night he had a client dinner with her. Well we didn't have any client dinners. And the angry green eyed monster roared. He apologized at his delay getting back to me for an earlier text. I played the damn game and simply didn't text him back til much later. I hate sharing my men. I'd make a far better cuckoldress than FWB.
I suppose as I'm over 50, and presumably less desirable, I try to pick men who are less than conventionally handsome. And it's not like it's that much of a conscious choice. But somewhere in the back of my dark mind there's the presumption that nice guys who are quirky cheat less. It's bullshit of course. But there you have it. Truly I am ATTRACTED to men who don't have perfect faces more. I like one stand out feature. Could be delicious skin, fabulous hair, sexy eyes, or a great big brain. Wit...oh witty men slay me. A man's face should be more interesting than beautiful. Just my take. But ultimately, it's positivity and character and respect for me that wins every time. And raw fucking transparency. Start to care and that transparency goes opaque. We become too careful. And that damnable walking on eggshells feeling....I've got to change my attitude. But what do I usually do? Just go have fun with someone else to break his hold. And then D becomes a bonus, not a need. Okay, so I'm a woman who simply feels better if she fucks regularly. It is what it is. Add stress and fucking becomes a need. And right now...well y'all know how I roll.
And yeah, meeting rockstar this afternoon. The man is going to be smiling the rest of the weekend...I'm not without skills...
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So here's the flip side of a woman who is loving her singledom after trying for so long to get divorced...it's Friday night. I sit at my brightly lit breakfast room table at 1:19 AM alone. Drinking water now to hydrate and help flush out the end of the bottle of white wine I drunk with odd and ends from Whole Foods for dinner. I spent the evening trying to make sense of why my former in-laws are telling me I owe them money when it was their son who borrowed from them. Mind you it's all wrapped up in the settlement deal and my move and I'm feeling the whole situation is precisely what D called it "polluted and colluded." What any of them have to do with my living arrangements anymore should be nothing. But a text about how I could pay back two grand out of the blue was just nuts. I reached out with calm phone conversations, very matter of fact. I've read through contracts. And it's all petty bullshit and grubby greedy hands and lying SOBs. I have a hard time believing that of people. But that's precisely what this is. And I am fucking done. When I'm this angry I've done better at reaching out to those who help me. Usually my go to is to just cry it out. And I look pretty ugly right now. Face blotchy, Skin reddened. Hair a mess from pulling and grabbing and pulling. Eye's bright, wet, red, with dark circles underneath. And I still want to cry since post midnight is not the time to reach out to any of the players to get clarification. I'm fucked for at least part of this. And not in a good way.
Damn it. Friday and Saturday nights should be spend in conversation, dinner & wine, followed by fucking and pillow talk. And I coulda had a date. But I'm not in the mood for more work. Sometimes it's work. And sometimes it's easy. I'm too tired to work. I just want to be with someone who will be nice to me. And be on my side and use profanity to describe the opponents. And I sort of do. But there's no one here by my side. And no one to tuck up close to in my bed. No heat. No warmth. No hug. No kiss. And half of me is glad of it because I never want anyone to see me cry. But that's all I can do tonight. Still I used the negative energy to get things done. I paid all my bills even though I'm not sure where or when the financial fuck up is going to clear. I moved a bit more. Talked to my former cuck who really only wanted a fantasy fuck of me and 2 BBCs...yawn. I get to level. To okay. To yes, I can handle it. And invariably some shit comes my way. I'm fucking tired of it. I'm tired of working so hard, trying so hard, and damn tired of being so calm about it all.
And tonight at least, I'm really really sad that I'll be tucking in alone with a few memory foam pillows instead of heat and angles and a sandpaper chin and the rumble of a deep voice in my bed.
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I do on occasion save my responses to emails til I can sit with a pot of tea, without distractions, and have the pleasure of free flow to my words...it's one of needed indulgences...
I've found I'm less driven by my libido lately and more by the quality of my...um...let's call it my "stable" for lack of a better word. Sure I want to fuck. But I want connection. Though I can be swayed by big cock. Add connection and big cock...well...that would be a home run. I've noticed though that the better endowed of the male population tend to have just one O capability a night. Whereas the more medium guys, regardless of age, can go and go 3, 4, 5 times...I SO love being pushed sexually and so few men push me. Quite the opposite, I feel like I'm the one pushing and controlling the interaction if it's to get less vanilla and far more interesting. It starts with their curiousity about my toys and as I begin to pull the lengthier items from the back of my closet (those too long to fit in my locked red bag), they start to grin and eyes widen. Even darling D...who is really not kinky though he describes himself as in the "lifestyle". It means he's had threesomes and likes to play the bull to him but then I expect "lifestyle" has many interpretations. But folks tend to intersperse "lifestyle" and "kinky" and I dont' think they're the same. Are swingers kinky because they have vanilla sex with multiple partners? I don't think so. To me kink is decidedly rocky road. Ass-slapping, throat-grabbing, bring-on-the-rope-and-floggers rock-my-world sex when you stimulate pain as well as pleasure receptors so your blood just races with oxytocin, endorphins, and adrenaline. I could develop a near addiction to sex, but my practical side dominates with time constraints, managing attachment, and the search for balance. Then there's that protective mama bear who never has overnight guests when her children are in the home.
In the midst of my efforts to just let out all these thoughts banging of the sides of my skull, I get blindsided still again. I assumed divorce the man, divorce his family. Meddling folks who tell me out of the blue I owe them thousands. Why? Because my ex borrowed from them to pay something in the settlement. Ummmmm...seriously? Please, please go away ex everything's. There's a damn good reason you're all ex's, no?
And so it goes...
With an head that wants to explode,
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My cohorts believe I did better than my recent experience tells me. They are all pushing me to seek early results and I refuse. Just one more thing right now will put me over the edge. That tipping balance. I can't plan, sort out, or deal with more long term goal right now. Either way it comes down, triump or failure, I don't care at present. There is too much on my plate keeping my children emotionally supported in a move they don't want, the actually planning and mechanics of condensing over 20 years history into a house that can fit maybe 5, sorting our ex nonsense, replacing my totalled auto, and my significantly challenging new ventures. I want to scream ENOUGH!
Apparently I can fool folks. One of my dear friends tells me I am "smart and sensible and never seem to be flustered." I have occasional moments of intelligence but mostly it's just big words that I know...it makes me sound smart. Sensible...generally practical but it's hard fought. I hate money for example but manageing it is necessary for my chidlren's health. Now about never seeming to be flustered...I live my life feeling like I have no idea what I am doing, trying to have it make sense to me. I am flustered all the time. Men fluster me. Truly. But I fake it. People initmidate me. Same story, I fake it. Relationships with grown ups, I have no clue what I am doing. I've never been this single mom solo without family support other than a great little young group of human who share my DNA. And ultimately I cannot let them feel scared or unsupported or like we are flying without a parachute. But I'm completely faking it most of the time. Fake it til I make it. Not a mantra I chose, but a necessary component nonetheless.
I dreamed of the episcopal priest I would've married last night. I dreamt of us sitting across the table from each other. He with that powerful charisma, eyes searching mine, that voice that projects to parishioners in the back, elbows bent, hands on the table half seeking mine. But the table was too wide and he couldn't reach me. I dreamt of taunting him about this choices and the limits of the rarified world he chose for his significant talents. I'd imagined the world changed by him. Not he burying himself in Episocpal prep schools and sermons ad infinitum. I dreamt of breaking him. Of the point where he couldn't stand reaching out and not being able to touch me anymore...he stood up front he table, came around and grabbed my hand to pull me from me seat with a "I need to show you something." A drive through a picturesque town I seemed to know filled with too many boys outside playing. It elicited a raised eyebrow and a "lord of the flies?" Question from me. "No, A little bit further," he said with his hands on the wheel. Parked. And he drew me again from the car to lakeside near a tall rocky outcropping she had to lean around to see and look up. And there was a house I knew. A combo of the "new place" I kid the children about when we pass it in the country as our "dream home"....so old all the paint has gone so it's just a grew clapboard structure with some windows boarded up, others looking new, but clearly not livable...and a log cabin. The space we are suddenly in so narrow that we are chest to chest and I can feel him breathe. Catch his breath. But there's no kiss. Like i said before,I don't poach men who belong to other women.
Shades of the new house I suppose. Why him though? IDK. He was someone I'd always wanted. And I was one of very few women in his life and his first lover. But I'm done dating a man I feel I will corrupt with my sexuality. I am not here to take innocence. But to share with a grown ass mature man. One who gets it, gets me, and isn't afraid to explore mentally, emotionally and certainly carnally.
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I think my enemy is simply having things looming. Not that any of us has the luxury of no responsibilities. But I have decided timelines for important life changing tasks. I've never taken possession of a new home and bought a car the same day, but that was my yesterday after a weekend of feeling sorry for myself. I SHOULD feel blessed. And I'll get there. But I was physically ill from stress the past weekend. I ended up needing a nap in my car after some time at an outdoor festival as I felt such a pervasive weariness I couldn't drive. Every muscle in my body hurt. It was like a sudden onset of the flu. But than that is what unmanaged stress can do to one. I felt sure I would be down for the count this week, but somehow I'm managing to keep putting one foot in front of the other. And today I woke feeling less ill. Win some, lose some. The problem is most of my concerns are high stakes at present. Or at least I think they are...
I'm receiving some training from some remarkably entertaining and positive folks for the next few months. Now it means they're going to expect a level of performance from me that going to take significant work. But such will occupy my mind with more cerebral tasks and get me out of the emotional tangle of more personal concerns. The newest man I met texted something naughty and rather than feeling aroused, I was simply annoyed...oh I still want to fuck, but I want to fuck a friend. Quite frankly, if it weren't for D I wouldn't be in the replacement vehicle. And though I was a bit disappointed in the sex last week as once is not enough for me...I so appreciated his pulling me to his chest and keeping his arm around me on our meandering. I don't have particularly nice parents as much as I could use a mama right about now. So this is when that family of choice comes in to support and hold and help one through. I hope D will remain a friend. Never has anyone been there like he has these few weeks. For that I'm grateful.
I LOOK good. I remain surprised at the bright-eyed face in the mirror. My autumnal hair freshly colored and just faded enough to reach the color that was my end goal. I fought the fight with my ex for expenses he was required and refused to pay. It hurts me, conflict. It always has. But it's a necessity to take on sometimes. So I stayed firm. Let it ride. And he caved. He still tries to control me with money and some days he is still successful. Mostly though he wants to humiliate me: there he is no longer successful. And soon when this part of the transition is complete, he will have even less impact. I am blessed with the people who are in my life and at peace with those who are not.
But right now it's a time to simply do. Do what I must to get this transition done. It's odd though. Everything it seems is changing at the same time. I know it's a good change. But a dose of the familiar would be welcome. And I suppose I have that in the people. Somehow I'll put together a new nest, a new start, a new life of sorts...it's positive and exciting some days and terrifying others...
I can't believe I'm saying this, but fucking can wait...
Pen
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I failed at an important task. I'll have another shot at it and of course it's embarrassing. A lesson. Could I have done better? Sure. But not with everything in my life that has been happening at present. Are my priorities fucked? No, I don't think so. I put my family and the people in my life first. People first. That's not going to change. Relationships first. And I'm blessed with extraordinarily people in my life. As alone as I perceive myself at times, people have reached out to support me here. And I needed it, even if it meant I lose my anonymity. I've never wanted intimates to know me intimately. Funny that. It means they all know when you fuck up. And I've never been comfortable with myself less then outwardly perfect even though I know better. I even heard from my sister out of the blue for the first time in 18 months. Odd that. My cohorts assumed I got this as they all did a similar task without fail. Still they've been remarkably supportive. Failure is part of being human and lessons to be learned.
Here's the thing. Life still feels hard. Harder than it should. Harder than I remember before my marriage failed all those ages ago. Harder than it seems for everyone else. That sense of having a karmic target on my back bugs the hell out of me. I crave a man pillow to sink into. A warm chest. Rumbly tone of voice. Hard cock taking me out of my head.
I think the key is it's all been too much. Divorce, starting so many new things, the accident and car totalled, reducing 20 years to a truckload, the move...and regular life was challenging as is. Add all the above and my brain is on shut down, my motivation nil and the tasks at hand overwhelming. I still manage to do what needs to be done in my more immediate frames. I take care of my family as my core. But focus is hard. And focus has never been an issue before. Things must necessarily move rapidly from here. There's an outline of sorts in place. But no real flesh to it.
It's one of those "just do it" times in life. Like having a new baby. Like getting through physical therapy. Like getting up and going to work and school when you only want sleep. It's what y'all do every day. But this girl want to put her head in her arms on the table and just cry. Instead I'll schedule movers, do paperwork, pack some more, and prepare for Monday. One foot in front of the other.
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Rain rain...go away...we should still be enjoying those perfect September shore days in the twilight of summer when us local look at each other and smile because we have our little towns back from the summer folks. I am...dealing...with a pile of ...you guessed it. But deal I will. I hope my Pollyanna views yield results, especially with a car given a dismal credit history before the divorce.
D reached out last night. I'm not sure if my perspective is right on him. I did turn him down for a date Saturday night and found someone new. He invited an overwhelmed me to his place last night to escape. It took me some time to get ready as I didn't expect anything of the sort. Maybe I should've played it better, but I hate such machinations. You want to be with me, tell me. I'm damn transparent when I want a man, and not hard to read. Lovely dinner. Deep conversation. But he and the little dog watching movies got a little long with an early AM for me the next day. Too tired to fuck at night? Well that's new and generally the beginning of the end. He IS 38. With no responsibilities aside from his business variable hours. And plenty of time to rest. In the morning yes. But even he caught it when I said I enjoy the way he perfunctorarily fucks. He seemed surprised and mentioned foreplay. What foreplay? The mental aspect I suppose. The words are good.
But he's not the first of my vanilla dates to lack finesse in seduction. He can fuck amazingly so that it's fine. But all women want to be seduced. Particularly me. Kissing with tongue. It that so hard? Attn to breasts, skin... a caress on the side of my face? Digital stim? Oral would be nice even thought I prefer cock.
Still the man is a delightful man pillow. A good foil. A lovely friend. I thought I was falling for him. But I realize we share many similarities in history. I'm not sure if last night was a move to push me to the friend zone as a reminder. Or just something that organically happened. He reached out nearly immediately to thank me for coming over. He lead me the fastest way out so I could make a commitment. But I suppose I want him to do a double take. To not be able to resist. To find himself inconveniently hard all the time.
I like to listen to him. I like to look at him. I like to touch the man. And I, wonder of wonders, enjoy sleeping with him. That heat. To feel him slide my legs open and enter...the pillow talk. Oh I adore pillow talk. That is truly the way to seduce me.
I've gone to my less conservative autumnal hair. Dark. Deep burgundy streaks. Long lashes. Time to find the red lipstick. D will likely hate my foray away from conservatism. But c'mon, I'm the girl-next-door. The mom. My son described a new school administrator to me "he's very ordinary." I wonder how many of us ordinary folk who tow the social line publicly and professionally are really way more interesting than anyone could know?
I have always been a girl who never quite fit anywhere. Certainly not in her family. Not in her home town. A natural nonconformist in views but perfectly respectful in outer appearance. I grew up with narrow inflexible expectations. So I followed them externally. Internally I found ways to find my own way, mostly by sneaking and breaking rules very quietly. But now I feel fuck it. If I want to go non conservative with my hair or cosmetics or whatever, why the hell not? Finally my teen daughter told me "your hair looks nice" over her rolling her eyes in the past. Nothing wrong with individualism.
I've been thinking of attachment too. Boy, I get attached like Velcro. I felt it for TBH and fought it. I feel it for D and manage it. For old friends and new. Sexual and not. But we are made to feel just that. IDK why I seek to manage it so much. There's always that potential horror of embarrassment for me when I realize I want a man far more than he wants me. I don't know that I'm there now. I'm able to backtrack. But oh, some very few men are keepers...
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Hmmm...date with the seemingly geeky guy went ever so well. A new place with fire pits on a chill rainy night. They did a proper dark-n-stormy. He's taller and more attractive than I expected. And very what-you-see-is-what-you-get. Lots of conversation about wide varieties of topics. He leaned to touch me often. I could see his cock harden now and then...and THAT was a surprise. A grower more than a shower. And quite a growth there. I miss girth. There's that sensation of stretch and expansion every stroke with a well endowed guy...and damn, but it's addicting and something I crave. Like many of the men I see to be attracted to, or perhaps it's just men of a certain age with some degree of expendable income, he has quite a lot of toys. The boat, the bike, the stable of cars. I enjoy men who indulge their passions as they quite likely may indulge me my desire for their physicality.
A great night. There was sex of a sort. Sigh. This is why I want younger men. I want to fuck 3, 4, 5 times in a night. Older guys have one shot in them usually. He is not sexually advanced though a great kisser, tries hard...But when a man has spent too many months on end masturbating, he looses the knack of being able to cum for someone else. Girls know...that's the 45 minute blow job that has your eyes crossing and jaw aching. Any guy who tells me to get him off via bj when I'm naked and next to him bed...well...seriously just fuck! But lack of sensation when a guy starts using a condom again after years without...The man has a learning curve ahead. And I don't want to teach. But he is charming. Handsome. With a real job and a family he makes time for. The look in his eyes when we began to discuss sexuality...it's happened to me before. With D. My experience is varied though not of long duration (perhaps only the past 8 years of exploration). The usual questions: Have you fucked a black man? Check. Have you ever fucked more than one man at a time? Check. Fetishes? Check. How many partners have you had? This one I never answer and I have no idea. A lot. I have no interest in keeping track of partners nor my quantities of O's in an evening. Both should be substantial. But most guys seem to think I'm good with and O or two. Baby, I cum 10 to 20 times in a night. And it takes a guy with a persistently hard cock to make it through. He never did cum that night. Though he was charming. Conversation was stellar. And we had breakfast the next day. That level of friendship and respect is necessary for me to repeat the experience these days.
Yesterday was D. Oh D...odd as it may be, I think perhaps I may have feelings for him. It's still not something I can say definitively yet. Because of course we all know the game...he pulls away, I want him and feel more. I do the same, and it happens with him. It's not that I want a bf necessarily. But I love the man pillow. Resting my head on a warm chest after being filled with impossibly hard cock. The vocal. The pillow talk. Damn I adore that stuff. And many men are too tired post to manage that. I live for that stuff. It's fulfilling in the most thorough of ways. We had some awkwardness last night. And activity date, a little fucking, showering, dinner and back. I assumed he's spend the night. There was my error "assume." Even though we've spent nights every eve we've been in the same place thus far...never fucking expect or assume. I do not want to pressure a guy into being with me. Ever. I backed up fast after assuming we'd go back to more sex and snugs. He awkwardly mentioned the dog and how he figured since we got together early in the afternoon it would be an afternoon event even though we were both horny at 10:30 pm. I apologized, terribly embarrassed at myself. He followed with an apology and an "of course I want to stay." Me back with "oh no no no...I'm really cool with whatever you do and the last thing I want to do is get this complicated." Meanwhile damn girly tears are filling my eyes. His "OMG I'm sorry, you're mad at me." To my "no really I'm not. I'm just embarrassed at my assumptions." To his "you get to make assumptions, we are friends." And so on. You get it.
D spent the night. We slept deep and snug and that was what I needed. A man pillow I am fond of. No boyfriend. I really DON'T want a bf. But I want the perks. I like him in my bed. I like the romantic parts. I like our dinners out. Helping each other. Talking about all and sundry. Laughing hysterically at our puns. Pillow talk. Breakfast and sending each other on their way. That's what classy guys do. That how you treat each other. I wrote on a dating site seeking a younger man that I wanted respect, closeness and fun. Add the clarification that I want to enhance and expand someone's life and have them function the same for me. I don't think expansion will happen with a bf. And as much as D is convinced of maturity at handling our friendship with benes...well I do get attached. I do love deeply and well. It's different than being in love. Or at least I tell myself that now. You know to just think another person is wonderful and a gift in your life. Wanting to spend time with them comes hand in hand. But I don't want to give up all my time to anyone. And I don't want it to get controlling. But I am attached. I'm attached to more than one man. I'm not in love with any of them. Could I be? Yeah I could. But until he goes there I won't. It takes a mutuality to be in love to me. And that takes plain old time together no one can give to happen.
And yes, time with rock star today. What a fun guy. Great attitude. I learn more from him than anyone else I've spent time with. And creative types, for all I suggest they get day jobs, add beauty and innovation to their interactions and to the world. Another guy with a stylist. But I figure some folks are put in my path for a reason. And I know I was meant to learn from him. And experience stages of my life I skipped. Like what I call my "groupie" stage...ha!
Fall awaits, and school and living life within the confines of other folks' calendars. Be well.
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I feel that I've been pursuing D lately. Our last date, Tuesday, seemed more my idea though he did plan a special evening. And I am very uncomfortable with the role of pursuer. Funny a few weeks ago I thought I didn't want him. Perhaps his appeal increased watching him in his profession capacity; I do admire capable men. I see in him, though, a bit of me a decade ago. He hasn't yet learned distance and to not take things personally. He doesn't know what he wants until he doesn't have it anymore...ha! Sounds like me! Sexually he has a great deal of growing to do. Vanilla as I seem to attract, but a stellar long lasting fuck. And he can go over and over. He makes love more than he fucks and it's lovely being kissed and fucked at the same time. It's just...well there isn't love. He means it in the moment, but it's confusing. And I know he's hirsute but really he could trim some down below if I'm shaving nearly my whole body before each date.
Interestingly he has never been fond of being touched to excess. Now I'm a tactile girl and if you don't like being touched I'm going to piss you off. I caress and kiss and seduce and fondle. He's unused to it and more ticklish than I'd like. But he claims I am a breakthrough for him as he adores my touch. But...you all know we can temporarily put what we like and don't like on hold for a new lover. I find when I want to reach and just palm his cock or caress it, he on occasion removes my hand. Not rudely, but he does. Not a good move if he wants me to initiate or fuck, touch his cock on a regular basis. What he does is fuck, and fuck good and long, with that verbal component that turns me on so much. And he does the tuck in, puts my head on his shoulder, does the snuggle thing. I appreciate all that. It's downright mannerly if you're friends and fucking. He does have a beautiful face and hair and romantic gestures don't seem so contrived with him.
I suggested (post a half bottle of vino last night) we share an activity this weekend to enthusiasm. And there was a bit of flirtation. But I was doing my own thing. Would I have preferred to spend last night in bed with him or watching a movie and feeling all girly? Yeah. I would. But...this is one of those undefined relationships where we like each other a lot but are non exclusive. Really though it's easier for a woman to date than a man. He's not going to appeal to a wide range of women. He looks older than he is. He sure acts like it and vears conservative. He lives in a wealthy town but is hardly financially secure. He's not looking to marry or have children likely ever. And he's a bit neurotic. Now I enjoy that, oddly enough. I find his OCD closet wonderful, but then my spice cabinet is alphabetized.
When I met D, I thought oh, okay. He's a little geeky looking, but I like smart guys who aren't standard GQ types. And he was so pleased to see me, warm, hug, nice, bought me a drink without awkwardness. Conversation was easy. And there was no expectation just real possibility. And he is shorter than I expected. Women lie about age and weight. Men lie about age and height. When I saw how relatively hairy he is, that was a "just go with it" moment. It is decidedly not fashionable to not manscape these days gentlemen. Though the amount of waxing the man would need..well, he'd have to me a masochist. And he was so so self conscious about it, I can't say anything. He's asked to go to parties and I've said sure, but you'd have to shave too much for comfort for those venues. So there's a hint at least. He hasn't taken it yet. But then he claims to not be all that into bj's. Really???
The thing is, people grow on me. I find all their foilbles less than irritating, and just part of them. I learn their processes and find them charming if they are kind. I grow wary if they are less than honorable in any of their stories or actions. And men...my ex is very handsome guy. But the most of men I fall for are not. I like big noses. I like olivey skin. Curly hair. Big beautiful brains. Solid builds. Perceptible biceps. Definitive views. Quick decisiveness. Modern style without being too trendy (do yourself a favor boys and toss the white sneakers, black jeans, and don't even think of meeting a date in athletic wear). I also adore outdoorsy guys who are clean shaven. That nature dude vibe without the beard makes my mouth and other parts water. Capable beats out intellectual every time with me. Be helpful, on time,and have some wit...my mouth will tingle with the want for you.
Anyway, I have a date. He seems geeky and not very sexy, but he had the wherewithal to make plans and seems to be one of the few guys out there who knows how properly date. We will see. If anything it's practice. And I'm going to skip responding to D's text today and keep him wondering. Game playing? IDK. He's done the same. He had his shot last night and didn't pursue it. And he has stopped planning dates, so I'm busy. And it's true. Maybe I'll be surprised. It has happened before.
Wish me luck and better times ahead.
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I'd looked forward to writing and writing but then life got in the way as it often does. Heavens darlings, yesterday I was in MVA (that motor vehicle accident to you neophytes). A ways from home, car not drivable and possibly totaled...and children in the car. I made the best choice in choosing to swerve into a telephone pole rather than the three car accident a brewing when the drivers in front of me all stopped short....but fuck me...it's going to be a complicated solution. But ultimately no one hurt including my babies. So I did the right thing still again. The older couple in the car in front of me even thanked me. Hell, even I think I'm taking this nice bullshit a bit too far. I was scared. SCARED all caps. But I know enough to assess my children and they were okay. But I stood there trying to think of what to do and how to fix this and how to get home. And drew a blank. I've never felt so alone. But I figured call the police. Call the insurance company. And work from there. And so I did. Managed to rent a car and nothing will happen with the holiday weekend til Tuesday, so now to stop thinking about it and my miserable post-divorce credit rating from hell.
My ex for a long time sought to embarrass and control me that way. And he was pretty effective. Even a couple months post-divorce, I'm still trying to salvage my financial life. And it looks like that will be for months to come. But I think I need to get over it. Get over the word no. And keep on asking for someone to give me a break and let me finance a car. But ultimately we all are uninjured, so that is much to be grateful for.
I, the woman who hates to ask anyone for help, reached out to everyone. For info. Suggestions. I even bit the bullet and called the ex. That was hard. But he's being remarkably respectful for the present. I even saw fit to thank him. I found a long ago letter he wrote to my quite awful mother defending me and seeking to protect me in a quite honorable and respectful way. It was kind. And remarkable from him. So I expressed my thanks to him again. Kudos where it is due. I can take the high road. Only for some reason it seems I can't quite get away from problems blowing up in my face right when I think it's looking up. I don't know why. But I'd like life to me more than solving problems and more about the living it.
I felt so alone. Impossibly alone. All I wanted last night was to crawl into a warm delicious man's arms and cry my tears and have my hair stroked and feel like everything would be okay. And then I think I should have a bf or a husband...ugh...even though I felt more alone and less listened to with both...no fucking tonight. I did the usual Whole Foods kick ass steak and whatever else looked good to go with it. Seared in the cast iron pan, rested 10 minutes...amazing. And lots of red wine...
I had a date. But I had to cut it out, since he had something come up and would be free post 9:30 pm. Are you kidding? He'll be a blocked number shortly. Plus this wine soaked girl is not driving tonight. She'll fall asleep in her chair likely. What I've learned from the accident? No matter what they say, my friends are simply friends. Wonderful in that, but not family. And not going to help me though things like yesterday. Though I've helped them through worse. Why I end up figuring out messes alone IDK...but it's no one's responsibility but my own.
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And so I have a date. We will see if D and I can transition back from business partners to fun in the bedroom. I hate mixing friendship and money in any form. You end up being so careful it feels like walking on eggshells. And that is never a sensation I want to repeat. I have a novel approach for him so let's see if the young man can handle it. If he can't I'm prepared to move on. And there are other possiblities on the horizon. I've decided to try this cougaring thing a bit more. A mature younger man has this energy that is infectious. Add that it translates to the bedroom and I'm on his bucket list and an older woman and a squirter... well seems like there's a mutual need there. A rainy day and a cat on my lap ready to rumble tonight. Wish me endless o's...
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Well...as often happens I find myself with a rare long weekend and no particular cock to fill it. Well that's not QUITE true as I have a choice. But I treat these rare 3 day weekends sans kiddos like treasures. And I never understand why others don't grab them too and live it up a little. It's a perfect time to sink into depravity and sensation. D sent me a pic of two male lions one on top of the other today, teeth in neck, it looked like they were fucking. He typed "kinky." My response "been there, done that." To his "LMAO." I followed with "though if you wanna bite my neck, I'd probably like it." Think he'll do it? I doubt it as much as a bull as he thinks he is. The man can stay hard a long long time. No doubt. And he can fuck. And it's the first time I've seen heavy load after heavy load. I admit it; I love that. But kinky? No? Can he even spank my ass? It's a push for him. Once he grabbed me by the neck. That's pretty much an instant huge o for me. But has he done it since? Nope. But hey, no one can be everything to another. And while I have a great ass and a pretty face, I'm sure my wobbly bits are less than he wants. Still there IS chemistry if we can manage to recapture it. I want to be done with the money and business part of things between us and get back to fucking. But I'm not quite sure it's still there. Tomorrow will tell. He's obligated in a sense to me now and that never plays well as much as I've tried to balance things out. Mixing money with friends you fuck...IDK...I'd rather not. But I have to admit I could not have done any of this without him and his lovely crew. Their presence made it easy for me to let go of my possessions. I love them all. But that's me. I DO get attached. And truly if I admit it to y'all...I take really good care of those I like. More than they deserve probably, but I can't help giving. And loving. And being nice. Time to own that.
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Lighter. Freer. A little bit richer. And the satisfaction of doing something hard and doing it well. It was a good experience to get to this side of.
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I don't understand how changeable I am. I watch D set up outside with one of his employees while I noshed my mango/oj/genmaicha breakfast and read emails. Two days ago I was roaring to fuck the man. Today it's a shrug and a "GM D." I watched his body language, cash box and notebook in hand, the slightly snobby thing he does with his nose tilted upward as he chatted with his guy. The hazards of being a shortish man...though I've always liked my guys less than tall until TBH. I figured if they weren't too big I could always take 'em if they got out of hand.
I have a possibly new friend on the horizon since I've gotten frustrated with TBH & D's availability and wishy washy'ness. This time I'm going for simple big cock and a man who can fuck and fuck and fuck. The benes of youth. I may be a semi-accomplished cougar for some time. Looking back, and editing all this history of my life, I realize I've done a lot. And I expect I have a good 40 years to do more. That's some real time to LIVE.
I spend hours masturbating last night to my fav porn, thick cock creampie...maybe one day I'll have a steady DDF guy who can deliver them regularly and keep me filled and dripping all day long. I crave a guy to spend time who adores me and I back...but who can ultimately bring me to feel completely possessed by his cock. I want to look at him from across a room with a small grin or raised eyebrow with complete understanding...while my panties begin to get soaked with his cum sliding out of me.
Yummmm....
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I'm knee deep in editing my life. And after yesterday's sale I got a little greedy. Money right now is better than all the damn stuff I have. It's distasteful how much stuff there is. Now mind you, the house was filled when I bought it from the family who had owned it a hundred years. 7 dumpsters it took to edit their stuff. And now a few decades later, their stuff, my former business inventory, and mine...well...it's ridiculous. I'm a bit embarrassed as it seems obscene to have so much damn stuff. But that's changing fast. I wonder though, what will really fit in the new place. My spatial reasoning skills are not good. I measure and have every detail but I still can't do scale models and figure it out. I hope I'll come around and figure it out.
If I could just quiet my brain, it would be a good thing. But I can't let go of the fear of wasting opportunity. But it's not going to be a perfect move. And I've never done this before. I panic a little each night. It occurs to me that I could sell this or that. So I make a trip to the attic at midnight. Or the idea of selling half my everyday Wedgewood china buzzes in my head. I yank all my art and gardening books from the shelves. I look at cookbooks and think I should pull them in too. And the estate sale folks ask if I'm going to have anything left. And I SHOULD stop. But I won't.
Ha! Just yanked the cookbooks. Bah humbug to Francophile food. It's all totally different now. Collection down to 40% of keepers. I was really an acquisitive chick. I suppose I still am. Though now I'm more interested in keeping my funds and good cock. It's all about interaction really anymore. I AM embarrassed by the ridiculous amount of stuff. I'm expected to have a hard time letting things go. But it's more that I feel compelled to. But tomorrow is the last day. And then I'll do what's next in this hell of a progression. Mind you while I type I am in the middle of a family conflict with a son who utters the dreaded "I hate you. I honestly hate you." So be it. Tomorrow he won't. And tomorrow I won't be so obsessive about finding more possessions to sell. But another child grins at me while eating an apple for dessert and moving past the conflict.
One more day. Wish me profits for my freedom fund which is scraping bottom with attorneys I am still paying and too many rainy days. Folks I need hugs. This transition is tough.
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Ultimately D is here. We are both making money. My family and I have worked our asses off and I've done some hard hard work. Words are tough to come by to describe how I've yo-yo'ed between sad/happy/bereft at sorting through the hardest component...the photos and letters and paperwork. It's been very hard finding my mother's old poison pen letters to me. I'd forgotten how much she disliked me and how manipulative she was. That any women can write what she did to her daughter and persistently judge me as morally corrupt is incomprehensible. I found a letter my ex wrote in response to a letter written decades ago that told her respectfully to stop contacting me with such vitriol. It reminded me of the man I married who I adored. I don't think he has much resemblance to who he once was, the best person I'd ever met and most honorable any more. But perhaps as he ages and things fall away he'll come back to that for his children. So it was doubly sad as I'd been thinking my assessment of him must have been faulty when I was young and married him. But it wasnt'. We simply changed. And I wasn't as stupid as I sometimes assume and kick myself mentally over.
The photos don't sadden me. Heavens I was lovely. And I remember hating my arms as they were too long and too skinny. I was such an elegant creature. And heavens, I HAVE done a lot. I think I can do more and pull together the disparate careers and skills I have to make life even more than I imagined. I'd truly forgotten what I'd done and what I can do. And how beautifully I know how to live. I'd forgotten and didn't give myself credit for what I already know. I've long been hard on myself for a perceived lack of vocation. I've never been truly called to do anything in my life career wise. I just muddle about and got talked into things I didn't want because my in laws insisted I had to grow up sometime and buy the house and do what people do. And somehow I though they knew better. They're raised intelligent professionals and have this family unit and I came from a split up, dysfunctional with a cap D mess. Gran always said I wasn't "raised up". I was "dragged up." But I know better.
The pictures, OMG...out of the sanitized envelopes dated and etecera an into a box to just wander through. There's an underlying organization to the mountain of inventory and possessions here. I'd forgotten how much I'd catalogued. How much historical knowledge I have. I used to haunt auctions. This is fun. It's a new world and I like the back story as much as watching it all happen real time. Add that I'm pretty sure we're making some good money and it's really fun!
D being here is interesting. He's the second guy this summer who has spent time around my children. I'm not much for that sort of thing and I wonder. Because last time with TBH as pleasureable as it seemed, I haven't seen him since. They're good and helpful and generally mannerly. But I'm biased. Maybe others see them as entitled brats as much as I've tried to teach them otherwise.
I look at D and find him at times just a slightly overweight guy with great hair and eyes. A little rough around the edges when I watch him work. A little too salesmany in personality. And I wonder if his whole schict with me was to get the job over the girl. Yet I know I was looking for distance from him not too long ago. It's been too long since I've had sex. And he's good at that. I really need to have sex. Actually what I need is kink. This vanilla stuff is nice. Great even. But I want rough. I want my neck grabbed, hard fucking, maybe teeth on the back of my neck or small of my back, giving me all he's got and taking it all...kick ass sex. I know I need to separate and find someone entirely new who gets me, is cool with the date first and fuck before and/or after thing. But D IS vocal in bed. And that gets me off like nothing. I want to be a brat. And forced to get off. I want banter, and play, and screaming o's!
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I grow increasingly frustrated by D's handling of me. I suppose I became less than enamored first. Still...it seems to me and to many women I know that men push and push to get us to go out. Charm us. Fuck us and do all they can to please us to seal the deal. And then swish...they're barely there all of a sudden. What is with that? I know the solution of course is to flirt incessantly with others or simply ignore the man. You know what it does to a woman? It makes us doubt our appeal. I began to see all my flaws glaring rather than what I do have. I was in need of pick up, so I had my chiro help straighten me out literally. An early morning mani/pedi along with fabulous new eyelashes glamoured up this old girl. Shallow, yeah. But it makes me feel damn good. And these eyes are sexy. Now to test how effective they are when I bat them at others...
After that, frankly this is my place and I'm going to own it tomorrow. I really feel a bit like an interloper. It's disturbing.
And it's time I said something.
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Well. I was loosing my mind. You try to reduce decades of treasures to the few things that are important and work and then realize it still might not work. It's exhausting reducing and letting go over and over only to realize you're not done with the process. Quite frankly the property is gorgeous. I'm going to take my little bistro table down to the water and have tea in the morning when the worst of this is done and I can take possession of the property. I have a feeling then it won't seem so bad. There's a tree, thank heavens that should be sturdy enough to climb and attach the rope swing my children live for. We ARE retro folks, despite our love for tech and decidedly modern roles. I'm getting greedy, wanting to sell everything for a buck. My experiences lately have me craving the full bank account rather like you crave a full belly when you are hungry. We may take a last minute trip next week to say one last "fuck it" before we are all back to working our tails off again. Darlings, tonight, I would love to fuck and be naked and shooting the breeze in pillow talk. But I have learned it is better to talk with my female friends, some moving as I am, about males. And what to do and not to do.
I was propositioned by my ex's former roomie. He popped in when he saw all the work, concerned I was going somewhere. A nice catch up and he wanted to stay in touch. Clearly I missed it when he said "Not to be sneaky, but it's best to email him over text so he doesn't have to answer any questions." From his wife I assume. Apparently he assumed I would be open to fucking him. No. Ick. Guess what idiot? I'm blessedly single. You're not. I can fuck and suck and play with whomever I want and there's not karmic hit. I'm nice. I do what I say. And generally try to tell the truth and be cool and stable. Guys...you kind of suck at it. We get pulled and pulled until you know we're in and then you no longer want it. So damn confusing. And it consists of most of what females talk about in regards to men. That and how well you use your cock....
It's a dark n stormy night...
Pen |
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It's funny when you have others view and pic through the detritus of your life. Mind you there's a great deal of STUFF to mine. Some call it too much crap. Since I had a business, I used the word "inventory." There are things in boxes I haven't opened for years. But the care I put into packing and preserving and being a steward of this stuff, is apparent even to me. Ironed, tissue packed and lavender scented. The endless collections. It's an exciting sale I'm told. So we will see how this goes. I do know quite a lot of folks including myself are working our asses off. It could be a very good thing. Money is good. I used to despise discussing it, but it is critical to be educated and to learn how to conserve it when you have kiddos to feed & clothe & educate.
I found my old stash of porn. A little more info than anyone needed to see. And my little bag of small dildos and a strap on have gone missing. I think one of the sale ladies tossed it. But I've found my copies of "The Ethical Slut" and "Bend Over Boyfriend." But no boys, I really don't enjoy ass play all that much whatever end I am on. Though I still have that DV/DP curiousity I haven't yet been able to indulge the way I wish I could.
It was saddening at first. All the endless paperwork I had to go through. And more still. A record of every damn mess. Calendaring the affair that want that final straw. Records from my beautiful if defunct business. I hadn't realized how hard I worked or how well it looks in print. Instead of shrugging off my past, I may just chronicle it. I'd forgotten who I was, the attention I used to get, and how much less adequate I was in handling it. Though heavens I tried and tried. In the end, leaving with a pocket full of cash and working with a team to get it done is/will be cathartic.
My new abode is much much smaller than I remembered. It's going to be close quarters when we move though we all have our own space. I like a life less about stuff and more about living. But stuff I have even as hard as I am trying to reduce it. I'd like to talk and have dinner with D. But he is bound to be tired. I've given up expectation. The staff likes being treated like humans, brought fluids, and appreciated. Who doesn't? And apparently the fact that I work my ass off too makes a difference. That's the about me too. I so admire a man who is a damn hard worker bee. It doesn't matter much what he does, but if he does it with positivity, humor and capability. That is what impresses me.
Much to do. This is going to be worth it. I think next week it's time for crazy ass fun. A little last hurrah before more work begins. And I'd damn sure like to fuck. OMG I'd like to fuck.
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I remember now why I make the effort and go out even when I am dragging myself through the primping and shuffling to my car...it's damn good for me. Rock star. Oh my. That is fun night. Always his place, which is what I want. Reach out to him with a simple "Hey..." and he's asking me over. He meets me at the door with a hug and a real kiss, pours me a glass of wine, and we sit on his couch and shoot the breeze first. He may reach for my pedied feet first and start massaging them or pick up his guitar at my query of what he's been working on and start strumming and crooning. It was a good night. I admire how he works the strings, effort in many forms, and the man is a stellar flexible, interesting fuck. It's never the same. That's how I roll and I appreciate a guy who is creative. He keeps coconut oil in his bedroom and lights low and fabulous...and without any "please" I'll feel the oil melt onto my back or ass as he massages and we shoot the breeze about past tours, drug use by bands over the decades and what does what (I know nothing about recreational drug use), the Stone Pony, how to get people to get along, and views on why some folks are better friends than boyfriends. I'm still mixed on that. Part of me wants that regular monogamous deep connection. And part of me wants to not give a guy that much control over my leisure time. Having to be anywhere at a certain time, while necessary, grates. External control mechanisms like school, work, commitments, rules...well, I was a girl who loved all that regimentation once. But now...well...now I'm getting to do all the things I didn't when I was 19 going on 45. Including playing groupie to rock star. I'm going to understand teenage girls a whole lot better now as I play my way through the bucket list I didn't know I had. Would I say fuck it and settle down for a guy? I'm a devoted friend and lover. Sure I would if he was the same.
Now the one thing I have lost is my tolerance for inconsistency, flakes, and selfishness. I give. You give. I text. You text back. So silly and damn easy. It was good to leave late last night, slippery with coconut oil, back to my place. Cook up the steak I skipped dinner since it's better not to eat before a great deal of sex. Much like yoga that way. And watch a movie with a grin on my face and the cats scattered across couch and floor. It's good to sleep in and wake slow. And it's delightful to reach out to y'all while I sip my tea and enjoy my luxury poppy bagel with cr ch, smoked trout from the boys' last fishing trip, and capers. Big Tom cat is at my feet, full with his breakfast and and napping in a spot of sun on the floor.
TBH reached out to tell me of the solar eclipse tomorrow. Be careful of eyes darlings. They make specs. But apparently like you can burn leaves with a magnifying glass, the focusing down of the sun's energy by an eclipse can act the same way on your retina. And you have no nerve endings to feel pain there. You'll just damage your sight forever. So don't be el stupido....
So there are a few things I wish men knew about sexual positions. And apparently I'm not the only women who feels this way. So I'm gonna share. Mind you I applaud and LOVE variety. But there are 5 or so that we do because you ask, all the while hoping you'll switch back to something else soon.
69. Think about it. How fab is is to lie back while getting a bj, gentlemen? You can relax, focus on the sensation and it feels amazing. So okay add to that your head at an odd angle, bobbing up and down and breath impaired? We are so focused on the task and watching our teeth and breathing and holding our bodies up that we can't even feel all that work you're doing on us. Do us both a favor, and take turns.
Standing. Okay so it's hot you're that strong. And it makes us squeal when you pick us up and slide that cock into us while holding us up. But it's a tough angle. And the whole time she's wondering how fucking heavy do I feel and is he going to drop me?
Shower. I love to be soaped up and caressed by my lover and to do the same to him. But really...too MUCH lube with all that water. Ditto for the pool and hot tub. But if you can keep it up in either, kudos to you.
Basic pile driver. My legs are way way high up on your shoulders, I'm nearly vertical and your slamming it. My clit is completely by passed. My chin is tucked way into my chest and next bent nearly 90 degrees. I-can-not-breathe. Enough said.
And the one y'all LOVE. Reverse cowgirl. So, okay, my heart sinks when a guys asks for this one. I don't mind riding you and doing the work. In fact I love it when I can see your face and push you. But add like the last one, no clit stim. You're looking at my rosebud which is only appealing to a man and creeps out a woman cause we know you're wondering if you could just slip your cock in there real quick without her screaming too much. And I'm looking at your FEET. Men's feet range from tolerable to downright troll ugly. This is when the woman is thinking of baseball because she KNOWS she's not going to cum and just wants to get through this and not look at your damn ugly feet.
Yes darlings, women really do think about these things. A guy who asks me for reverse cowgirl every time, well I'm probably going to block his number. But we'll tell you "OMG, yeah, I love it baby!" Contrary. Pleasers. And way too polite in the sack. Well sigh internally and look for the positive to see if it outweighs us spending way too much intimate time looking at your gnarly feet.
Laugh a little today boys and girls and keep sending me those hugs. Right back at you.
Pen
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There's a party tonight I could attend, but ugh...I'm not craving the company of strangers but rather that of a familiar. And if I wanted, I could reach out to D. He is now familiar. But I've gotten to where I did with BC. There's a distance between us now and to seek rapprochement when I am bound to have little time for him ahead seems counterintuitive. I've been watching porn of course. Using the tools and kick ass collection of naughty toys I have to please myself. But I'm craving the classy date, the conversation, the build up, and the pleasure of taking a really thick cock attached to a man whose brain I love. D, I think, plays the game. Builds goodwill. But he's doing it because his is a referral business. I don't think he really means or feels it for a sustained period. But look who's talking. My feelings certainly don't have staying power. At least I know it. I wonder though...will my attraction to a man last if he's the right guy? The thing is I'm not really looking for Mr. Wonderful, a soulmate, or a boyfriend. I'd like it happen. But it's kind of like getting pregnant...it tends to happen more if you dont' try so hard.
But I have probably 10 weeks of transition and hard work again before I can lift my head. My attitude is lets just do the work. And get to the next level. And then I'll see. There's an oyster fest in about that time frame a state or two away in a little town I visited this summer. I may just hold that out as my reward, that proverbial horse's carrot, for getting there. I work like that. I need to create treats to earn to motivate myself. Otherwise it seems like the same ole same ole day in and day out. I am both scared and hopeful. And I'm damn tired of dealing with the same old crapshoot happening and things getting fucked up on a regular basis. Sometimes it seems I am a magnet for that. So I hid at home last night. Blessedly, my children reached out after hearing on their friends' social media that our town was sitting in the dark last night. With them it's easy for all their occasional contrary ways. I love them. They love me. Done.
But with people you choose, it's way way harder. And it's been months since I've been alone. Now you might remember that was my choice as I was afraid of those solo weekends officially as a divorcee. But after staying with friends and having little say in scheduling, food, or leisure activities...well, it's nice to not HAVE to do anything for a bit. And as I've mentioned, time to just sit and breathe the air in my home of 20+ years before I leave it.
I KNOW I should fuck for the oxytocin and serotonin hit you get all naturally. But I think for now it should be a no sleepover thing. Have fun & fuck. Go home, take a warm bath, and sleep properly alone. I did last night without having to wake up early to take anyone here or there. Still restless. But nothing like listening to someone next to me snore while I tossed and turned. And it's not even like that's such a big deal. It's just I want the pillow talk. And if my choices are the Walmart version of men...well, sorry no...I'm more an LLBean girl with that stellar service satisfaction guarantee. Ha!
Decision time today.
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This is getting a bit weird. I think it's just that I'm work mode over fun mode, though of course I try to find enjoyment in whatever I do. D met another member of my family today as he came by in his business capacity. Odd, but I think I'm done with anything more than the friendship component of things. He's is becoming too much work for me, looking for me to initiate. I can't. Darlin's I love sex. But it's damn hard for me to say "hey, wanna fuck?" To anyone at anytime. Even when I'm all wined up which is what I'm aiming for tonight. His responses to my texts have gotten longer. And I'm gonna say no thanks. He was kind of lazy today. And I think he's taking the same approach to the FWB thing. I didn't even have the desire to touch him today. Fuck it. I hope I see better of him, at least professionally, and soon. I'm losing faith in his supposed capability.
It's a true dark & stormy night. And I've finished some rather stellar leftovers and a couple glasses of vino Rosso. KIddos have departed for a daddy weekend of fun and travel. And they all had a great week, mostly because I made it so. I, on the other hand, am feeling a bit more than put upon. It's not that the move is unbearably stressful compared to what I've already done. But add to my phone glitch yesterday, my wallet gone missing for most of the afternoon, and my iPad falling out of the side door of my car to shatter today...well fuck!!! Thank god the wallet showed up. And the phone was a simple fix. Then my blessed more full than usual bank account expectations shattered as well as my ex missed the payment. Here we go again. Fuck this bullshit. I am a little ... No...more than a little at a loss. When shit happens I usually feel like I'm being punished for something I didn't do and should've. It's ridiculous of course. It's the same faulty way I feel I need to EARN anything good that comes my way...usually through suffering. It's hooey of course. And I've been TOLD so by friends, fortunetellers, and colleagues. As if saying no to my friend who needs helps I can't manage to give has brought this down on me...
Well, on glass three of the merlot. And it's going down smooth. I don't want to sleep with D. And now it's dark. Or rather it was while I used the light from my phone to light the candles. At least it's back on, though Darling Dom was kind enough to be sure I set up battery backups of all essential services. To me that's Internet. Darlings, I feel like I want to escape so bad. Oh how I'd enjoy TBH if I hadn't decided he's too flakey for me. I cannot do another man who doesn't do what he says he's gonna do. I am the most patient of women except for that.
So I wanna escape. But I don't want to spend money. I want my balances to grow. The iPad is going to hurt that. And I quite frankly, the way things are going...I'm afraid to leave the damn house since most things seem to get fucked up royally. I should make myself fuck someone. But I haven't the wherewithall to even say "hey" to rock star when I'm such sucky company. I'll watch Netflix, beg y'all for sympathy, and drink this bottle down before falling into a hopefully deep slumber. And tomorrow I deal with my technological problems. I ask my friends when they get to where I am, "will tomorrow be a better day than today?" And usually the answer is "yes." I expect that'll be the case for me too.
Send me hugs darlings,
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I did it. I told him no kindly. And I broached the subject, in fact many subjects that my friend is waiting to deal with. Hard stuff. Ageing and wanting to stay in your home isn't easily achieved as old old age challenges approach. He's smart and paid for long term care insurance, something we all should be wise enough to do but it's expensive. I can't do it. His neighbor and friend can't commit to it either. And when you have some modicum of valuable goods and get old...well, you don't trust too many people. There was a time I had help in my home, back in the days when we all had more money than sense. And I hated it! I couldn't wait til they'd leave so I'd get my place back. And I know he'll feel the same. But even he could simply organize around the days the trash needs to get out to have someone over to do the lifting, driving, cleanup, whatever...it makes sense. But change is even harder for the elderly than the mid aged like me. Though some days I seek it.
I skipped a party today. I know I should've gone for the stress relief. But rock star reached out to let me know he's available all weekend, so perhaps an evening of his crooning and me as his groupie will suffice. I like the guy. He and I have much in common professionally. And he's my musician fix. I'm finding music men utterly appealing as it's so foreign from my own skills. But then I suppose this is my second coming of age and I'd best experience what life puts in front of me. I really should find a way to print this journal. It's going to make some great reading when I'm old old.
I got lucky with my phone today. Fixable. Now I just need to hold on longer. Meeting things head on is my best approach right now. Work hard. Say it honest. Be kind. But be real. And if I don't know, say it. No pretense I have it all together. I don't. But I expect the other side of this wil be sweet. Let's see if I pull my life back together in new ways by Halloween...that just might be doable.
Tomorrow D shows up with his staff. My children here. Me here. And the man who wants to be my bull. Shhhhh....it's all on down low when we are acting in our professional capacities. I'm gonna tease the man while remaining utterly proper. This is my element. He'll question his ears..."did she just say?" "Did she mean...?" It's rife with possibility for double entendre.
IDK though. I am craving solitude. I may just work. And I'm definitely sleeping without an alarm after tomorrow. But I'm sticking by here, breathing the air of this old place and holding on to the vestiges of a lifestyle gone extinct. Yeah, I know. Necessary. Good. Right. Progress. But the only way for me move ahead is to feel and mourn properly when it's warranted.
I've heard from a Dom or two. But I have no time to pursue anything that new amid all this. Talking of my fav foods or kinks seems utterly wasteful of time right now. When I think of it, I haven't been solo in ages. But then I've been afraid of being the solo divorcee though a whole weekend. I think I'm ready. But that damnable libido gets me moving towards mutual naked time whenever I can manage it. I truly love to fuck. But I could get off on being held down, having my neck restrained (properly done of course), and maybe even my baby fine hair pulled. D said something that has stayed with me. He is fascinated at the texture of my skin and strength of my body. I'm not skinny and I'm long of the belief that If you carry a little weight into middle age, the plumpness fills in potential wrinkles. Look how aged skinny folk get...esp the sun worshippers. In any case he claims my skin feels thicker and bouncier than others. I am strong. I do have muscular arms, legs and a very firm ass. And I get what he means. My skin can only wrinkle like tissue paper over the back of my hands if I push it together. It's bouncy every where else. I suppose that's different for post 50. But then I LIKE wrinkles. I like character. I like a grin that makes eyes crinkle and those lines that bracket a face from nose to mouth that I don't have. So yeah, I like old guys. Smart guys too. And very horny ones just make me grin.
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Ugh. I don't like reading what I wrote last. Complaining about other people...well hell...I'd feel like crap if someone was doing the same about me. Might be time I find my inner nice girl again. I certainly have my own less desirable traits. That whole managing attachment thing...most folks just don't think that much. They just let themselves go. It's not even that they LET themselves. They're just in without thinking about it. But me? I need to pull apart why I feel what I feel. To understand it and reduce emotion to physiological reaction to stimuli. Yet for leisure (and yes, that means sex!) I want to to turn off my brain and just FEEL. I'm a contrary puss.
Today I must do even more things I don't want to do. Tell a friend I can't give the help he needs. I'll tell him I wish I could. And on some level I do. But I've helped a whole lot of folks these past years and an odd phenonema happens. They begin to expect it. Instead of it being a one time "sure, I got this." They assume. Add to my load. And it's already heavy. I can shift it now and then. But generally I need to take care of me and mine first. And this is especially true with even more changes a'coming. My children are having a hard time with the move. It's a time of even more transition with schools and other commitments and changing relationships. It's simply a lot to deal with at one time. I feel it. Quite frankly "overwhelmed" is de rigueur at present.
I want to stop and just be here. But it's task-oriented time ahead. I'm going to miss my home of decades. I'm going to miss the wood moulding and wainscot I pain stakingly painted by brush and the trim I had a knife cut at the mill to match. I'm going to miss my giant drawers in the kitchen. The beauty of my majolica displayed. Silly it's just things and I say I need to unburden myself of things. And I know the radiators leak, the house sinks another half inch a year, and there's way too much garden for me.
I hate taking my children from their home. I moved my whole childhood and craved stability. I did provide it here. This is all they've known. I know it's time. But I just want to sit and breathe the air of the place. It's likely it will be torn down and cease to exist. And yeah, it's probably time for that too. But y'all know it hurts sometimes to say goodbye.
My phone is not working so more blips to figure out along with a car that I pray stays on the road. I was envious of my friend's home last week. Everything was so clean. And new. And done. And yeah, kind of impersonal. I'm moving to another quirky house. And I will never have as much as my friends in terms of trips or stuff or a fancy car. I don't know why I have taken to comparing. I know better. My places always FEEL good over look perfect. Every since my Gran told me, a struggling new mom, not to worry about it...I'll have a perfectly clean house that never gets messed up in a few years. And I'll miss the mess.
It IS about the people. And my people, the children especially, are remarkable and kind and mannerly and generally good folks. But as the present is so focused on the stuff and recreating my nest, I've lost sight a little. It still doesn't mean I don't have to say no today to my friend. And quite frankly I'm not going to offer to help as many people. My internal resources are limited and stressed and until I can build that back up, well, I'm not going to be very good for anyone.
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Well, the man can fuck, I'll give him that...I'm still trying to figure out why an almost 40 yr old needs very little refractory period to get hard again so fast. He's not 22, so I don't quite get it. I've thought perhaps it's a little blue pill since he claims to go without ejacuating for a week at a time. And he's the second guy I've known who told me he can orgasm without ejaculating if he needs to in between. The advantage is of course, a ton of cum. I admit to have more than a passing fascination with the stuff. Not necessarily to consume it, though I might with a kinkiest guy. But watching a man o is still the pinnacle of sex for me. Add the visual of spurt after spurt of the good stuff...well, it's HOT...
I think I take to heart some of what I read when it helps me to distance myself when I start to feel uncomfortable. The intimacy/intensity (I'm not sure which it is) of things with D lead me to figuratively put hands on my hips, arms akimbo, anything to take up more space and prevent him from approaching any closer. Why? Well the start of a fade has occurred. IDK if it's because we are going to work closely together with his staff along the next few weeks. Or if it's just familiar. Or if I am just beginning to swim out of the depths of limerance to see our differences. Honestly? The thing that did it? He's not nice to my cats. He has an overly attached (mutually so) little dog. I deal with her. I talk to her. Let her sit on my lap. Admire her. But truly I am not a fan of little dogs. Dogs yes. Little yappers, no. Grooming every 6 weeks? Sounds ridiculous to me. But then I'd shower mine at home from puppydom if it came to that. Okay so my cats are like dogs. Socialized and friendly. They seek attention and a pat on the head. He moves his shoes to my dresser because the scent of my cats makes his dog curious. Um...the dog hair on my clothes makes my cats curious too. It's like only liking your own children. Alright so I've been guilty of that. But my big Tom who is a doll comes over and he either backs or pushes him away. This is the man who has left a naked me in his bed to go to the living room and sit with his dog in her crate when she makes noises. And yes, gives me a "you don't mind if I bring her to bed for a bit?" OMFG. Yes, I mind. And I love animals.
So I've been reading all about FWB relationships. I don't think I ever got the real nature of such a thing as I've always equated them with fuck buddies. The friendship first element is not where I've placed my focus as I wanted the sex more and the friendship was just a happenstance bonus if it occurred. It helps me to understand D's approach which has been quite different that my experience. IDK...I'm a girl after all. I used to get texts initiated by him as if he couldn't not. It seemed easy as he always made an effort to please and seemed more open than I thought I had seen. But when these things start to shift and get confusing (mind you I don't think he senses a shift, but I feel one), I back off and out. Apparently FWBs should not spend the night. I thought spending the night was mannerly and charming, but last night I really wanted a warm shower and to stay up late watching Netflix on my ipad. Solo. I didn't because for all my grumps here, I do have manners. But ugh...I want my bed to myself. And I'm thinking my idea of needed a queen bed, to make room for a partner in my life is not so necessary. My pretty little yellow bed is rather perfect for me. I just can't have a tall guy over....
He complains a lot, D. I thought it was all simply sharing. But when he shared how he had to eliminate some facebook friends today because of their politics...He doesn't eat fish. I LIVE on fish. I know, I know...but he eats like a kid.
Life intervenes...more later....to be continued. |
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I'm back home from our travels. As imperfect as my place is, it's still rather nice. There are so many pieces put together over the years of my eclectic style that combine into curves or color or details that catch my eye and give me pleasure. My family and the pets are back together, everyone happy to have company, shower with great water pressure and slightly harder water that is great for my baby fine hair, and eager to sleep in real beds again. The high speed wifi and cheap tv I love. Yes, I'll spend lots for the fastest wifi I can get but have the cheapest relatively small at 31" tv in the neighborhood. I was astonished at the quality of my friends' tv but it made my eyes hurt. Fresh food, lots of greens and back to the chair in my room that feels like a hug. And the lighting that does wonders for my ageing skin...spoiled girl that I am.
D began texting again after my friend advised me not to expect him to do all he work and text the guy...the funny thing is...I'm less thrilled about him now. How did that happen so fast? I think his el disappearo act just did it. I don't want to want. So without feedback or interaction, I simply stop. I'm sure it's a defense mechanism. My friends all agree I got fucked (and not in a good way) but some folks who were really important to me. So periodically I withdraw. And I'm craving withdrawal now as life and sex and that romantic stuff D tosses carelessly at me is complicating things. I need to sort out my move, my professional commitments ahead, and focus on getting my family what they need. Humor, I can do. Taking care of them, I got that. My girl, back after a week away, is begging me to make my kind of food for her. It took all summer but I've met their needs and given them all experiences that will stick with them. Now it's time to prepare for what's ahead and it's far less fun and way more work.
I've grown tired of the parties, as much as I like sex as recreation. I don't like miscellaneous males brushing against my ass without permission. And I'm irritable enough to feel more like a piece of meat than a woman desired. Because really...sex is simple recreation in its current incarnations. And you need time for recreation. I've priorities that need to be addressed. It's just so odd that I'm off D all of a sudden. I think things build up and without any form of commitment, well there's no desire to sort it out. As much as I just want to fuck, last time was no foreplay even if we did fuck 3x. I still can take it, but sheet that remain dry as chalk tell me even with my moaning and groaning I didn't cum. And a guy who doesn't notice that kind of sucks. It's the same position each time. He fucks well and long and is a lovely man. But my head isn't in the game any more, and boys, we women are mind fucks more than the simply physical.
I want to be home. But of course home is changing. I will still have my stuff, but I've spent a few decades here. It's bound to be an adjustment. But I don't really feel supported by anyone here. I don't think anyone really gets how complicated and stressful this is. And I can't break. I have to use humor and positivity to convince my family the best is yet to be and this is good for us. It is. But...that doesn't mean it isn't hard. It's overwhelming.
I came home and masturbated to take the edge off. D reached out with his talk. He is fond of using "bull" terminology that did little but annoy me tonight. Me, who is generally accepting of others kinks and foibles...I think I got close but had a wake up call. But there's also an odd way I work. When I'm having sex regular and am "on," I stay on. But when there's a dearth of it or I simply have things that must be done and that part of me is "off," I stay off and I don't feel need as deeply. It's like my libido goes into hibernation. I'll still use my toys as needed to relax, but I don't cum through masturbation. It's just that sensation of fullness meets a simple need. I think there's an empty spot or two inside of me. And filling what I can temporarily assuages whatever need there is that I keep tamped down. It bears more thinking. But right now fuck it.
My chair. Just enough AC. A cozy throw. My ipad on the buck wheat pillow on my lap. Typing away to all you fellow kinksters. And getting out this angst or whatever this edgy pissed off mood of mine currently is. I think I'm just tired of those who flirt in and out of my life and want someone who will step up, be my friend and actually help me. And no darlings, I'm not talking about y'all here, but rather those who I've touched and talked and been a friend to. My intimates. Most of whom I currently feel like dumping.
I think what I need to go back to my introvert roots and be alone for a bit. I've always counted on myself when it comes down to actually delivering what's needed. And I'm damn tired. A night solo might be what the doc ordered.
A grumpy Pen. |
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As much as my dear friend and I likely look like sister wives with 6 children between us of every age and size imaginable, it's good to have a companion who gets it. She has cared for my children since they were babies and now I get to return the favor as a beloved aunt. And given my own highly dysfunctional extended family, this is a good thing. Her parents passed a few years ago and were neighbors, friends, and essentially adopted family. We would dine together often at her parents' home and during the hardest parts of my separation she would be my bulwark and we'd have my ex pick up the children from her family's home. She held my hand. She and hers sheltered me and mine during the worst of the Sandy recovery as we slept in front of their fireplace. It forges bonds deeper than our surface differences. And it's been a respite to be where I am so thoroughly loved. And my children as well. It takes me awhile sometime to appreciate and see that I am cared for. Actually it takes a damn long time. My efforts to manage attachment seem stupid from here. But it's second nature at this point. But I keep growing so maybe I'll be like the Grinch and my heart will grow too!
I think part of it is the incredible trust we have for each other. There aren't many I trust with my children. And she hands her beautiful baby to me as a matter of course. My childen sit side by side to hers as close as they can get as they love each other so, with the tiny new one in the middle of what amounts to family. They all love, look to, and take care of each other. Mine are the elders and it's a beautiful thing to see them so engaged, loving, and giving to much smaller children. And I think it must be wonderful for them to be so adored. It's wonderful to anyone to be adored.
If I weren't such a curmudgeon perhaps I'd allow myself to be adored. But I analyze every connection to pieces looking for angles. Looking for someone wanting something of me. Relaxing and enjoying it without figuring out the psyche and motivations of a partner...I don't remember the last time I did it. I look at their stage of life, what they have done versus their regrets, job and financial motivations and fulfillment, past relationship history, fetishes, family and friendship connections, background check for any glaring oops...and I create a picture. Whether it bears any reality to who they really are remains to be seen. It not like I can predict how a relationship will go. That doesn't stop me from trying to assess risk and determine how deep I let myself go. And quite frankly as much as I pretend I have that much control, connection happens quite aside from what I think I want or can control. I've loved men who I knew weren't good for me. I've not been able to love men who were delightful and adored me. And I haven't been terribly successful at finding one who has made me feel supported, loved and thoroughly enhanced my life.
What I'm good at is sex. And occasionally seduction. I can give things sexually that are way beyond my personal preferences which are more pedestrian than kinky. Sure I would love a nice thuddy flogging now and then, tolerate the occasionally spank, could go for the attention my body gets when I am bound (if I could trust anyone with rope)...but mostly I want to fuck. Penetration is what I adore. And my submissive side emerges as I desire to possessed fully by a man. So penetration is the name of the game. Add that I'm a g spot girl, well, you get it. But lately it is the more classic skills of making love that have me craving. The kissing, hands linked above my head, the talk, the slow deep fuck...the tuck in. I craving the kiss and smile at the sight of me more than the penetration. That's new. IDK if I'm going soft, or simply learning there are more pleasures to be had than I've allowed myself in the past.
Pen |
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A wee bit far from home, roadtripping to friends who live very differently than we do. I've always been fascinated at how others structure their lives. I wouldn't make many of the same choices my friend, a sister in all but blood, made. But I adore and respect her all the same. It's just interesting how others fill time. There seems to be so much more of it in their lives and the hours longer. Why is is mine seems to run out so fast? We literally had to fill the day. My days seem born full. And perhaps that sounds snooty. But it's not meant to. But living in the country a good 20 minutes from a store means you make a day of shopping it seems, though it feels as all we did was drive and drive and buy stuff. But then I prefer to do over see, so mine is a different perspective. Still it's good to be around young children and folks who are always on my side as I am theirs even if I live way differently. But it's tiring and I begin to crave home. I haven't heard from D. But then I would hesitate to text anyone I was even minorly interested in romantically if they were away. So not unusual. But when I travel, I am the only adult. Hell, that's how I live. And the communication and support of another adult keeps me...well...from feeling quite so alone.
There's great deal of tactile input. One of my children is back from a week away and tucked into me most of the afternoon. And my "sister" has a wee baby, just months old. She is utterly beautiful and charming. I can get tipsy on the scent of a baby's perfect little bald head. And the squish of their tender skin. Add wide eyes and toothless grins, well...who can help but be entranced? Those impossibly soft never-walked-on feet and tiny toes defy deion. And I adore meeting what my children call a brand new tiny human.
Naturally after this trip, all about family and others, I'll come back eager to be selfish. Eager to fuck. Oh, So eager to fuck. But I will have to necessarily deal with impossible levels of stress. I think it just might crash things with D. But hell, I think I have to remember I had an unexpectedly delightful July and it's been forever since I've had a summer romance, fwb or not...
Pen |
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I am on the edge of tears today. Concerned certainly that a good friend, an elderly man, fell today. Wishing and a little guilty that I can't give him the care he needs. He needs more than I and his friends can do. That's not what started this emotive state. I've been around less for my family...taking care of what I need, work, other people who need my skill set more. And I expect to pick up more hours and be away more. As hard as it was spending the time I did with them at home for as much of their childhood as I could, I miss it. I miss being the mom who went to every game, baked for every bake sale, picked up her children and fill the car with other's children after and before school some days. I (and the children) miss real food, cooked by me over I-have-a-meeting-here's-40-bucks-for the pizza place. Instead of being in the center of the big couch I bought so we would would all fit together like a pile of puppies, I'm in the breakfast room studying during movie night. And I don't remember the last time I made a hot breakfast for all. I AM that retro chick. And yes, my children are teenagers capable of doing much for themselves. But even I, as an adult, would do almost anything to have a "mommy" for a bit. It's good to be taken care of. And right now I want to both fill that role and be taken care of myself. The vacancy of that spot in my life amounts to physical pain right now. Like a hole in my heart.
For someone who is all about managing attachment, I sure need it bad. Sex mimics it for me. Because c'mon, truly, I let a man inside my body...we are literally attached for a time. It's a sense of fullness I crave. Times like these when I crave, sex can fill the gap. But there's no time for such at present. My days have been spent catching with old friends and cohorts, most younger than I and at the place in their lives I was just before my marriage fell apart. I visit perfect homes. Small children, exquisite in their beauty and developmentally a challenge for any adults in their vicinity. The family composition I believed would never change...Mom, Dad, babies, pet(s). Though the dad role seems so often to involve not being there. Sure some of that is traditional bread winner reality of having to be at work full time and having a less flexible job. But traditionally men are the visitors who come and leave to hugs from their children. And women are always there.
Not always of course. My friend is going batty 24 hours with her children and is looking for care so she can talk to adults and get away from the noise. Her reality will be what mine was. The guilt. The disbelief that more than half her income goes for someone else taking care of her children. And the craving to go back. We so often want what we don't have.
Now I know what I see as perfection, new homes with newish families, all spic & span and shiny...is not the reality. But I look at my older friend who is nearly burdened by a home he can't take care of. And I look at myself in a big house I have the same problems with. I know I'm moving and soon as intimidating as it is. But it's to an older house that feels like a shack in comparison to the shiny big empty places my cohorts live. I suppose it's not bereft of charm. But okay, I'm feeling lesser. I tried to buy a car last week. Lease one actually. I thought my regular income and the divorce would make it finally possibly. But the financial disasters of the past years and years of separation and lack of support don't go away just because the husband does. And everyone is so positive. "Of course you can." "Anyone can get a car these days." And so on. But guess what? Not anyone can. It's humiliating. And I thought feeling humiliated ended when my ex couldn't control me financially anymore.
It adds up. Everyone else seems to be doing so well. But my determinedly positive speeches are sounding empty to me right now. I manage attachment because I am afraid of loss. And today it seems that my life is canted to the loss side more than ever. My dear friend said to me last night. "Yeah, you try not to go there because hasn't everyone left you?" Well it's not quite that simple. Sure parents have. My gran died. My extended family doesn't keep in touch. But I'm the one who leaves usually. I catch the vibe and I head it off at the pass. I left my hometown and most of my family viewed it as a rejection of them and their lives. And in many relationships I try to be the one to leave first once I perceive them to no longer be all in.
My friends are afraid I'm going to do that with D. And I'm close. He has become a sounding board. A friend. And he's good naked. I like looking at him. I like our vocal interplay when he's deep inside of me. But I hate that I want him this much. And I want his "c'mere" when he pulls me to him post-coitus tucks my head on his chest and hold me close. I want that more than the fucking right now. But I think it makes me weak. I need to get mad and use that energy rather than the sad I feel right now. How do other people make ends meet? I have resources. But it looks like others live better than we do. But maybe this is the cost of living in the best neighborhood you can barely afford to keep kids in great schools. There is no doubt there's a cost. The benefit I do see in very smart, very capable, mannerly, hard working kids. All individuals. All very different and they celebrate those differences. But I suppose I've also taught them how to leave folks behind who don't support them.
They talk to me. But then I can talk about such oddly different topics. Archery. Left or right eye dominances. Shooting sports. What a tailwhip is on a proscooter or a table on a BMX bike. I know to call a cape a "cloak" when talking The Ranger's Apprentice books. How to explain how much it costs to live in a house. How to allocate resources. Time management. Planning. Why your veins looks blue/green. How to spell almost anything. Fixes for technology. How to scramble a perfect egg. Why you need to keep that butter really cold when making scones. That the fruit of a tomato plant is the only part that is not poisonous. How to take a load of disparate produce from the co-op farm and not waste any of it. Why this move is gonna be great for us all...
Here's the thing. I'm 52 years old. And everyone seems to be further along than I. I know maybe my head isn't screwed on quite straight at the moment. And there's no going back. I know my children are happy and people I and others like. If anyone can make our world a little better, they will. If that's all I do, that's pretty good. But at 52 I may well have another 40 years ahead. How the fuck am I gonna make them good? I can't just fuck and have kinky sex as my top recreational activity when I'm 80. Though if anyone could manage that it might be me...
A questioning Pen
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I wrote this earlier (actually before my first post of the day below) when I couldn't access the site. I figure it's something I will need to read again, so here ii is:
This whole December/May romance thing…it’s hard to remember he’s younger. There’s a crevasse in my mind, a deep dark place, that thinks I could fall for this guy. The stupidity of such a course is self evident. But it’s wonderful being treated like a rare bird. It’s not so different from the students I’ve met in the past who were astonished at how much I’ve done. I never thought I was particularly interesting. Sure I know quite a bit about a variety of things. And have had several of my dream jobs. But I always saw that as a life without vocation. Without passion. I never knew who I wanted to be when I grew up. Aside from having decent clothes, my own apartment, and a cat…well that was it for my goal set. I got looked at with disbelief and coming from a dysfunctional world at best, I figured I’d take the cue and find some more goals. I had a good job. Then went to a better one even though neither was happy-making. I married, same there. I had kiddos. Now that was an eye opener. Those three people, my children, helped me to create a richer deeper life and love than I thought possible. They’re beautiful and I hope they do beautiful things. I know if nothing else they will always know how loved they are (a gift my own parents never gave me). And if that’s all I do in this world, well then it’s been a good one.
So back to the guy. And it’s not even like he’s the only guy. There are two. Rockstar. My age. A stoner singer/songwriter who has a very good day job in healthcare. Love him. He’s a little guy. Fit. Few possessions. I love that. And willing to chat and share knowledge. Post coitus talking hospital stuff is great. So chill. He gave me a lesson in phlebotomy and IV access as we lay there palpating our veins. Fascinating. And fun. C’mon the guy said to me “you know you exude sex.” High praise indeed.
And then there’s D. The unexpected D. Our date was a lark. I always wanted to go out in Sea Bright. No expectations but fun. The last thing I wanted was to date a guy from his town, the parvenue of my ex and his social climbing friends. But here I am. Wine tasting at the fancy Francophile cafe. Meeting his friends and neighbors. The local speakeasy bar no one but locals know of. Dining out and about at places beyond my budget. I’d forgotten what it was like to be with a generous guy. Mannerly. Guys from this town have to be class acts. And D is that.
The fact that he is as accepting of folks as he is, is remarkable. Even my awful experience trying to get a car he took in stride. And helped me. I’ve rarely met a man who was driven to help and nurture in the ways I am. He is that guy. And that is very appealing. His is not from desperation and looking to get something back, though he loves reciprocal relationships as much as I do. He’s a natural. Though he claims allowing me to touch him the way I do is new for him. That he is not a touchy feely guy. But with me he is. I’m sure he’s naturally affectionate. But he is sensitive. And I know he is a man who has been judged. By his income level, lack of connections on Wall St, being single at 39, his hirsuteness. And certainly by his subsequent lack of prestige jobs.
I think he’s remarkable. But then I don’t judge many by their jobs, but rather by capability. I admire capability in it’s many forms from the guy who knows how to fix a bike to the phlebotomist at the lab who is so skilled I don’t feel it. And having been a Wall Streeter, I’m not very impressed with suits. I am impressed with those who go the extra mile and who treat everyone from their server at a restaurant to their senator the same.
I crave the man. Kissing is a beautiful thing. The making love element of the sex we have. The conversation mid-fucking. The incessant way he keeps getting hard. His desire to give me his seed. The way he pulls my head to his chest post and tells me to c’mon and snuggle. Yeah, y’all are thinking this is way more than sex. And it is. But we are Friends, with a capital F for “fucking.” I enjoy his personality. But we are careful. He is monogamous by accident, as I am the only one he is fucking at present. But he is looking. I persist in looking and making sure he is not my only one to manage attachment.
But quite frankly he is heaven sent. I met an estate sale guy at a time I need to consolidate, liquidate, and move. It’s his business. And I was lackadaisical about meeting him to start with, figuring he is all talk. He found me looking and that impromptu date turned into something lovely. I think my lack of interest made him more desirous of securing mine. His new level of compliments are glorious. Though I really hesitated inviting him down during the day when some of the children are home. Having a son taller than he really brings to the forefront that I have lived quite a bit longer than he. But of course my children are impressive people in themselves. D now sees what I mean about my astonishingly beautiful youngest child. He is the most handsome human being I’ve ever seen. And I’m not the only one who feel that way. Add that he surfs, drums, and boards…well, the chicks are going to flock to him. I just like to look at him sometimes. Beauty is just beauty. And my eldest. Always smiling. Engaging. Polite. Both with great vocabularies. Manners. And all entirely individual. But all mostly kind. Beautiful inside and out.
That’s enough for now. CS is down, but you know me…always need to express. Get the inner outer. Open up space in my skull. Time to go home. Wake the sleeping teen. And get to work.
Pen |
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I had trouble accessing the site. Not unusual here and periodically I think of officially blogging on my own site. But I met my best friend here. And a Dom or two. As well as other friends I value. So for all it's imperfections, I continue. Especially since, I'd miss y'all...
Cub, D, invited himself over this evening. Now I'm on another site where we met. A swinger's site, so most of you can guess which one. On there I state quite I'm looking for a guy to host. And decidedly "not looking for a bf, though life has a way of surprising us...". Now he's been here before. And yes, it's a cool completely out of the ordinary house and mine for another few months at best. Of course the PITA thing about fucking a squirter is the damn laundry. I get it. And his parents are visiting him tomorrow and he seems nervous about it. Cleaning his house and all. Mind you he lives alone. It's already clean. Now is when he seems impossibly young. Is he afraid they'll come early and run into this vintage model leaving his house? Or that I'll mess up his house? Well it's a fair assumption given what I can do to a bed on a good night.
He's been here. A couple times he has spent the night in my bed. He snores. I probably do too. Hell, most men snore. TBH did as well. Cuck used to almost whistle in his sleep. And yes, most nights with company I find myself laying awake listening to the guy beside me inexplicably sharing my bed and trying to fall back asleep. But I'm mannerly. And not without my own odd noises. Ever toot during a huge orgasm? Exactly. Our bodies do what they do. Accept it and move on. It's not that I'm greedy for my bed and space. Quite frankly at times now I feel I have too much space. But my children arrive back from their fathers in the early AM and I won't have a guy here in the morning. So it creates pressure on my to get them to leave and it's just not fun.
A weekend? Sure. But I spend a night, noises and all..staying up late...fucking whenever and however many times we can bang it out...I don't want to set an alarm at 6:30 am to get you fucked, showered, up, fed, and out the door. It's like a modified version of my morning the rest of the year when I have to be up and at 'em to get my kiddos to school. It is so seldom I have the luxury of a sleep in. Add the pleasure of a man I enjoy and want to fuck...well...I want good morning sex that I'm not thinking "hurry up and cum so you can go." And a shower that's not rushed. And walking around the corner for breakfast at the fancy cafe. I so fucking don't want here. But I didn't say anything except to bring up the early wake up. His response of "sounds good' didn't win him any friends here. And yeah, the morning thing with breakfast and morning sex is that part of the boyfriend experience I LIKE. And want. And quite frankly I've been sleep deprived long enough (especially having raised children) that taking away a sleep in morning makes me want to have something come up so I can't see him at all. He DID invite himself over.
I even reached out to the wuz to see if he can switch nights with me so it wouldn't be lying to have something come up to cancel him. And this morning I was craving the guy. He does have sex the same way everytime though. TBH was similar. Some guys, most guys, figure you out like you're a system to be played. She has enough o's and your good. I'm pretty easy if that's how you qualify a mutually good fuck. Multiorgasmic. A squirter. Thought don't be fooled. Just because you coax out squirt doesn't mean I'm orgasming. Though most of the time I am. It's when you get in my head. That's a real o to me. I need to qualify this since it sounds to me like I'm complaining. But I try hard not to edit my thoughts here. It's about being real. Both guys are AMAZING in bed. But I've been spoiled by connections that were so comfortable and intimate to allow complete freedom in the bedroom.
With cuck we never knew where we'd go every time. Sex truly was different each time. The conversations were. It was a beautiful thing. Now it was the only exciting component of our interaction. But it was what started me here. And rock star. Similar. We go from conversation of a corporate culture we both know well, to a mini concert, to fucking all sorts of ways, foreplay can be foot fetish to well...anything but pain, to post-coitus discussing skills we perform in the business we share and practicing on each other. I need variety. And yeah, I suppose I'm easily bored. I understand now why D describes himself as an "old soul". He truly treats me better than anyone has except my ex in the early years of our courtship and marriage. Maybe it's my redo of that. And he is the most nurturing, affectionate, helpful soul I've met. But the whole time I'm managing attachment. I'm not good for him to become attached to when he still has too much of the classic benchmarks of adulthood to experience, like marriage and children. He would make a tremendous father though I expect an unhappy husband. There's the rub as it always is. And I won't give a man either. I expect one day I will be engaged for perpetuity...I would like a man who loves me to ask me to marry him. It was a non event with my ex and I. And every woman should have her proposal moment even if it does make all the blood leave our heads. I think I was always more a business decision than one of heart.
With D I am a younger, more visceral, and far more loving version of myself. Perhaps this is why elder men prefer the company of younger women. I get the appeal. And as I'm the first X'er generation and D is the last of them, we match. Boomers and I...well...I am enthralled by their settledness and commitment and work ethic. And then it sinks in and I'm bored and frustrated. I'm about forming teams and working as part of them. I'm less committed to my work and more to my happiness. Though financial security is key to me as well; I prefer my own money through my own efforts. I wonder if I'll beg out of this evening. It'll be some time til i see him again. He'll either make efforts to meet someone else or begin to crave me more. This is getting too regular. And I still end up pleasing the guy over pleasing myself...and ending up unhappy as a result.
Pen |
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I've made it through a divorcee Saturday night. Silly me. There's plenty to do. But you know, I've lost the knack of dining alone and a shore summer Saturday night is not the night to do so. The charming non-relationships I am pursuing require careful timing. Once a week. Maybe twice. More would be too much. And usually that's all I have. But a Saturday night sans family is made for more. And I'm either feeling alone or lonely. It's a new sensation so I'm still processing.
I'd planned to take a roadtrip and meet up with TBH. But I'm done now. I'm glad I didn't believe him and scheduled otherwise. He is inconsistent at best. And may never know what he wants. Opportunities narrow as we age and find ourselves focused on must do's over want to do's. Enough of that. And certainly enough of him. If this was April, I'd be teary eyed. But now I know better. I still feel it. But a lesson learned.
I'm a woman who appreciates and notices those who share values. I do what I say I'm going to do, even when it's hard. TBH not so much. The darling cub, yes. The rock star...well I have even fewer expectations of him. So it doesn't matter much. But both are non-monogamous, non-defined pseudo relationships. Pseudo or not, the cub, D, was there for me this week. Kind and thorough. I understand him. He gets waylaid by work as I do myself. But then his bday arrived and I pursuaded him to get out as he needed to. 39. Lol. The age when my youngest son was born and the last true year of my marriage more than a decade ago. To him it's just another number as he hasn't moved towards marriage, children, home ownership, or any of the myriad of things we are told is growing up. It's not you know. Skip the laundry list of classic must do's and find your own way...
It was too crowded to dine alone anywhere tonight, even though I was craving company. So I splurged on a Whole Foods steak...now I know how to make a perfect steak in my cast iron pan...and I don't indulge in red meat much. But tonight it was perfection. Along with avocado, Jersey beefsteak tomato, and local mozzarella topped with my fav lemon balsamic. And dark n stormies X2. I'm starting to crave a boyfriend. But I have the boyfriend experience with cub so I should let be. But damn if I don't wish I could tuck in tonight and sleep with my head on slightly fuzzy warm chest, having my hair stroked back from my forehead and just sleep. It'll be just me and silk pillowcases tonight instead. But you know, that's not so bad.
It's just once you get used to sleeping with someone, you just might crave them. And heaven knows wanting is something I do far less well than the actual having.
Pen |
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It's been a hump. I try to live in the positive. I'm celebrating the beauty of being on the other side of a divorce. But there are going to be days that suck. And there's been a few of them strung together in a dismal daisy chain of frustration. I'm doing what doesn't come naturally to me and asking for help. Unfortunately, the end result wasn't ideal. But I still learned a hell of a lot that I expect will serve me well going forward. It was a reality check for Polly Anna. I'm only a month divorced. So some of the fiscal mismanagement consequences still stick even though I'm well positioned now going forward. This is a transition though and just when I get used to a system it seems to shift and change and fuck with my efforts to plan.
I'm a natural at planning and organizing. I fight my nature everyday to control all I can because I know it's not good for me. And it's not good for the other people in my life if I try too hard. But what a boring skill set! Useful for sure. But damn. Being good at organizing, planning, risk management...just makes me yawn. Just like my natural nurturing spirit. It's all so NICE...I'm craving a walk on the dark side. And it might well be time to create a go bag of rope, naughties, that chain mail flogger that is so damn beautiful. It's definitely time to push and surprise and expand other's limits.
I adore being taken care of sexually. And otherwise. It's such a departure from my usual. And quite frankly I experience the need for it. Both sexually and emotionally. To have a shoulder to tuck into while a discussion rumbles back and forth. To simply connect. Expression frees me, empties my head and makes space for pleasure over worries. Not that I let worry stay long. I tend to find a way to DO something to resolve it. But I also think my desire for action and socialization is an effort to avoid thinking too deeply about issues I don't have a solution for. But then not everything ahead can be solved. Sometimes you just have to wait til you get there.
TBH turned me on to coconut oil. And I have a particularly delish new jar that is sheer luxury, all smoothness that melts at body temp. It makes me want to slip and slide along a lover. I love cock. Y'all know that. But I particularly love to do a sensual cock massage with coconut oil. To play and tease. And coconut oil adds to mouth feel and lubrication so a more challenging cock can slide deeper and easier in my rather small mouth. I'm starting to think more about TBH who I havent seen for many weeks...I know he has a rather amazing cock but I can't close my eyes anymore and remember it. For a while it was imprinted in my brain from week to week. He's a smart a@@ but a wit. It's a nice combo and rather more challenging than the charming but less dimensional men I've spent time with lately. Still though, I appreciate pleasure. I appreciate goodness. And it's simply lovely to know you are wanted.
A struggling Pen |
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A man who is able to fully engage in the moment is hard to find. I'm told it's equally hard for those men to find a woman who rolls the same way. There is never any doubt that when I am with a man, I am all in. I listen. I take in the way his hair curls, the length of his neck, the glimpse of chest musculature, his hands and what I imagine they are capable of. I can get a little lost in lips. Or a smile. I begin to crave to lean over or push up onto my tiptoes in the case of TBH and touch lips to lips. Then you feel the curve of a smile begin against your lips as you realize you are both close as can be, grinning. Being enjoyed is the best of compliments. It's one I pay to my partners often. At this point though, now...I want someone who will go the extra effort. As I do. I haven't the desire or wherewithal to try and give without feeling the reciprocation. It's not like I keep track. But instinct is core knowledge. It tells a women who is in and who is just taking the path of least resistance. I can get almost any man to show up. But wanting to keep him a bit takes effort. I want to be seduced. And I'm not afraid to ask for what I want even though sometimes it feels decidedly uncomfortable. But when it becomes clear that I'm not going to get it, these days I let go. There are too many other options. I still believe in soul mates. But I have had some truly beautiful undefined relationships. And yeah, part of the reason I don't want to define them as I'm not sure about monogamy. Monogamy is ingrained in my values system. It's supposed to be the culmination of a relationship. I've seen it too often as a death knell. But sure there's an appeal to wanting and being wanted above all others. It's just time...and commitment. I don't know that I have either to give. Funny though, if you really want someone you figure out a way to make it happen. I have two idea guys to date at present. Local. Fun. Fabulous. Neither bear any resemblance to the other. Or really to who I imagine myself to be with. Neither is a long term guy. I always thought I was an "in for the duration" kind of chick. But that was married me. Now though...I suppose I should sow my oats. But connection calls. And connection and chemistry, though easier to find than I thought, are still not common. With connection it's all better. Sex. Conversation. The push me/pull me moments. Maybe even attachment. And despite knowing better, I care. Hell, I care about most folks whose lives I touch. I care about my friends here. I just rarely feel loved the way I love...but maybe none of us does. Pen |
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I used to cry when I had sex. Yep, I said it. With my ex, many times I found myself in tears post coitus. I didn't know any better the decades I was with him. I loved sex and penetration. But I never had anything resembling the o's I have now. I think in retrospect he got me a fingersbreath away from cumming and he was done. Though his approach to me was less than charming. His usual approach to me was "so, you feeling charitable tonight?" Honestly folks, you can't make this crapola up....or "don't worry, it'll be over quick." Is it any wonder how enthralled and focused I am now that I know better? The past decade has been a gift. Of o's. Of squirting. Of pleasure. Of skilled men. Of seduction. Of trusting my instincts. And of celebrating each and every o as a gift.
Pen |
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Saturday nights and lazy Sunday mornings are meant for spending time in bed with windows open. Better yet to have company. But y'all know I don't have company, especially overnight, when my family is home. Or do you know that? No sexual hangups here in private. But publically I seek to be appropriate at all times. You won't find me dogging or playing in a car no matter how horny I get. A bed is the best place to do these things for a multiorgasmic squirter. I usually wake early, lock my bedroom door, and fill myself with a dildo or two along with the buzz of the hitachi...I rarely cum solo, but the sense of fullness eases me. It confuses guys at first who spend time on oral and tickling my clit...I enjoy it. I love tasting myself on my lover's lips. But it's not going to get me off. G spot all the way here, so it takes just the right penetration...and deep. Hence my love for cocks on the thicker side. Though interestingly post coitus, surface stimulation works beautifully. I've a fantasy of a lover who will fill me with great quantities of his cum then touch my slippery folds after while grinning and pushing me for me. It goes hand-in-hand with a man who is not afraid to taste his own cum from my puss and share it with me in a kiss. Kinky girl? Yes. But more so than that. I'm a woman who enjoys being pushed sexually. And it takes a skilled, confident, trustworthy guy to take me there. Fortunately there are one or two men in my life at present who I can spend time outside of my comfort zone with...grin!
Pen |
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Time is the most precious commodity to those of us who don't have it. I have some leisure but of course my priority is and will be my family. The hours left or that I manage to carve out are precious and I don't want to spend them with others who won't appreciate the gift it is. I appreciate those I spend time with the same way. Adults have complicated lives. Especially when you have multiple responsibilities, commitments, and working your ass off enough to be fiscally secure matters to you. Frank Kaiser wrote of women over 40, how we don't hesitate to tell and show you how much we appreciate you. You see, we know what it is to be taken for granted.
Here is is:
"One of the perks of dufferdom is an increased capacity to appreciate people. Friends. Spouses. And, for me, women. All women.
When I was 20, I had eyes only for girls my age. Any woman over 30 was ancient, over 40 invisible. Today, at 65, I still appreciate the 20-year-old for her youthful looks, vigor, and (occasional) sweet innocence. But I equally enjoy women of my own age and beyond, and every age in between. I’ve learned that each has its own special wonders, attractions, magic and beauty.
As I grow in age, I value older women most of all. Here are just a few of the reasons senior men sing the praises of older women:
An older woman will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask, “What are you thinking?” An older woman doesn’t care what you think.
An older woman knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants, and from whom. By the age of 50, few women are wishy-washy. About anything. Thank God!
An older woman looks great wearing bright red lipstick even in glaring sunlight. This is not true of younger women or drag queens.
And yes, once you get past a wrinkle or two, an older woman is far sexier than her younger counterpart!
Her libido’s stronger.
Her fear of pregnancy gone.
Her appreciation of experienced lovemaking is honed and reciprocal.
And she’s lived long enough to know how to please a man in ways her daughter could never dream of. (Young men, you have something to look forward to!)
Older women are forthright and honest. They’ll tell you right off that you are a jerk if you’re acting like one. A young woman will say nothing, caring what you might think of her. An older woman doesn’t give a damn.
An older, single woman usually has had her fill of “meaningful relationships” and “commitment.” Can’t relate? Can’t commit? She could care less. The last thing she needs in her life is another dopey, clingy, whiny, dependent lover!
Older women are dignified. They seldom contemplate having a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won’t hesitate to shoot you if they think they can get away with it.
Most older women cook well. They care about cleanliness. They’re generous with praise, often undeserved.
An older woman has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A young woman with a man often will ignore even her best friend because she doesn’t trust the guy with other women. The older woman couldn’t care less.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to an older woman. They always just know.
Yes, we geezers praise older women for a multitude of reasons. These are but a few. Unfortunately, it’s not reciprocal. For every stunning, smart, well-coifed babe of 70 there’s a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some 22-year-old waitress.
Ladies, I apologize for us. That men are genetically inferior is no secret. Count your blessings that we die off at a far younger age, leaving you the best part of your lives to enjoy and appreciate the exquisite woman you’ve become. Without the distraction of some demanding old fart clinging and whining his way into your serenity."
Girls, it's pretty fabulous, isn't it? And remarkably astute in many ways. Harsh though. I don't find men genetically inferior of course. They just don't usually think to take care of themselves the way a woman will until they get a heath scare as a wake up call.
I do adore bright lipstick. Perhaps part of my retro charm. But then I have good, full, unwrinkled lips. It belies the thought everyone has that my heritage is Irish. I haven't met an Irish woman with lips as full as mine. I've really just learned to enjoy the pleasures of kissing again this year. A man who can kiss his way to seducing me...oh please do. It's true I don't care much if a man is a commitment phobe as there are few I'd want to keep, that doesn't mean however that I'm not looking. A deeper relationship flirts in my head, but he would have to be a rare man and a giver. Most want more caretaking and live a life of such. I need respite. A man to sink into deeply who tries very hard to please me. Now that's a novelty. It works when you share values, fetishes, and open communication and that hard-to-achieve concept of balance. But mostly I need to fuck someone I'm connected to who is not intimidated by my libido. Harder to find than you'd think...
Pen |
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My confidence is increasing. I know more than I give myself credit for. And I'm saying no to the lovely ego-boosting attention I'm getting. I must be putting out vibes. But quite frankly I already know what I want. I don't need a stable, no matter how appealing the reserve chutes might be. I'm not ready to commit to monogamy but then no one is asking. I think that's still who I am at heart. I'm fortunate to know some remarkable men as friends and a few as lovers. And to be able to date and relate the way I need to right now. It's pissing supersub off as he wants me to go back and doesn't see this is my way forward. Selfish? Yes. But guess what? I get to be that way about what I want in a partner/friend/lover. And I want a guy who is all three and devoted to me. As y'all know I would be to him. I'm devoted to friends too. But I can only give what I can. That's always the rub, isn't it? We find someone we know we can adore or at least simply just want like all get out, but neither wants the same thing or can give it at the same time. Well, all I can do is try. And be. And live what I know is right for me. And I know me right now so well. I feel in someways I've become a friend to myself in discovering what I must do, want, and find. That's not going to change. I give. And no one is happy with the portion they have, most seem to want more. I know that sensation. But I have finite emotion and energy and time. I am not going to feel bad because I can't give more. I'll give what I can. But it saps me when it's not reciprocal in the way I need it to be.
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In my personal and professional masks I see lives change suddenly. I'm not unique in that, but I care deeply about people and am driven to help when I can. Sounds noble. But it isn't. It's just what I must do to make the bullshit and pain I've gone through (and subsequent hard fought knowlege) meaningful. I need to live a meaningful life. I need rewards, both intrinsic and external. I spent the night with an elderly friend who was feeling very vulnerable and in need. I love the man, and we've long been good friends to each other. In some ways he is my opportunity to redo what I couldn't do for my Grandmother in her age, as I live far from home. I have few extended family ties anymore with her passing. She was the glue that held us all together. And I stopped being willing to give to a family who doesn't understand reciprocal relationships. So in some ways, my elderly friend is family. But with connection comes responsibility. And I have so many already. He would like me to take care of him always and I get it. Establishing boundaries with those you love are HARD. But I can't be who a lot of people want me to be. And it seems I usually come to this point. Once I would like to be precisely who someone else wants and he/she precisely what I want.
I met up with D today. He knew I was going to be uncomfortable last night at my elderly friends house. Like many elderly folks, he choses not to use air conditioning and can't quite maintain his home well or clean. And with age and vulnerability, many become a bit paranoid of others and lose trust, particularly when they live amidst possessions of value. It was an airless dusty night. But I'm a mannerly sort even when I am very uncomfortable. Fortunately D's bungalow is nearby. I haven't known him that long but his hospitality is fabulous. I was able to just come over, shower off the dust, and snug up to him and his dog. I am sure most of his neighbors think he is gay. The great hair, the little dog he walks and adores, and his singledom. I assure you, the man is entirely hetero. I wasn't there to fuck him as horomones rage...but there was some rather fabulous tucking in and feeling ...my word would be "loved" but there isn't love involved in our interactions. It's a friendship, mutually supportive and good times. But he's a nice guy. And that level of openness and sheer hospitality is just...so EASY. And simple.
I read a bit of an email that sprung from my interaction with him. He is curious. And young. And appreciates more feedback than any man I've ever met. He was inordinately pleased that I referred to him in print. Sexually he's a dynamo. But he seems to need to think that what we have is completely unique and that he makes me feel like no other man has before. Well maybe we all need that. And of course it is unique and different. Though there are similarities to he and another high testosterone man I dated, CW. Hot, hard, potent men. Not tall, broader but not heavy, hirsute more than my usual taste but it suits them and the most potent of men are hairy. They both have the most beautiful clear eyes and truly great hair with silver temples despite their relative youth. Silver temples slay men. Actually grey haired men are my personal preference for hotness. Even if they are younger, I prefer the illusion of maturity. And both men were affectionate, talkers, made me feel protected and very feminine. It's hard to pay for anything when they are around which I appreciate but never expect. Though I manage now and then. And yes, women like when you pay as was long traditional. But I'm retro and love mannerly men. Though I also insist on reciprocation, so now and then I'll buy you dinner when you go off the restroom as a fait accompli.
I really do appreciate D. He's taught me what I want. That level of hospitality and openness. It doesn't come naturally to me, but it does with him now. He reaches for my hand as we walked to and fro the beautiful cafe around the corner. I'm not used to the sex with the making out. I'm completely unused to the feeling of being made love to. Though we quite consciously define this as friendship. He wants us to be "best friends" whatever that means in his world. I gently corrected him as I know friends like that are made because you make it through gauntlet's together. Those friendships are forged and don't just spring up newly. We are friends with fabulous benes who enjoy each other's company for a bit. I know so much more than he and am at a different place. But oh, we enjoy out time. And he is truly what it feels like when the breeze begins to blow off the ocean on a hot day. Lovely, appreciated, and just what is needed at the present. He is teaching me what I want. And what I don't. And in the loveliest of ways.
And he's here. He takes the time to be available for me. Well really that's all a woman like I need. It really can be just that simple if you just show up.
Pen
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I've been attracting more attention than usual. I don't get it. Am I emitting pheromones? Is there a label above my head "available?" Lovely getting asked out. Like real dates over "let's fuck" though I expect everyone wants to fuck. Y'all know I do. But such pleasures are on hold for a time as I step up to the plate for others who need me. I get called a "good egg" by supersub. But you know it's not that I'm particularly good or bad. It's that I'm here. I have specific knowledge, hard won, that can help. And my basic credo has always been the golden rule. That's not going to change. Essentially it's selfish. If I don't live the way I think, I feel bad. So gotta follow that moral compass as that's how I live with myself.
I am beginning to crave solitude. And a roadtrip. But I like living leaner, spending less to ultimately have more. It's been a long time since I could. Part of me is worried it's going to change at some point in time and feast/famine will take hold again as it was for so many years. This is so much better. And new. I think this is how other people live. Regular people. I wouldn't mind being regular folk. It sure beats constant cash flow stressors. That's why I don't have my own business anymore. I'll work corporate and enjoy every bene rather than scramble. It's better, if on the boring and regulated side, to work in that environment and live outside it on your own time. C'mon admit it, you kinky types lead outwardly very traditional lives. If that's you, I bet you can delve deeper than most.
It's downright autumnal at the Jersey shore. And I've a long afternoon/night ahead of me. I've been ill the past few days. It's concerning as much will be asked of me the next days, but rest must wait. Malaise. Muscle pain. Sore throat. Hoarseness (though that's not unusual for me). Ear ache. I'm hoping it's just leftover drainage & pain from a medical massage I had a few days ago. It's not a favored massage technique for me. Though admittedly my area of concern feels fabulous, it seems to have made other areas hurt that didn't before. It's simple things like this that make me crave physical comfort. Not even sex. I would like to curl like a girl onto a tall warm man, head on his chest, his arms around me, listening to the grumble of his voice and beat of his heart. I'd like to just breathe every ache out and sink into comfort and rest. And bar that, since I don't really have a relationship like so at the moment, my pillows and bed and heavy blankets would do for a night of peace, rest, and solitude.
Sigh, but that's not going to happen for awhile. Funny. I have that solitude and I dont' want it. I don't have it and I crave it. We're funny creatures. The grass is always greener. I wish I didn't work that way, but I'm as suseptible as anyone to wanting what I don't have. At least I appreciate what I do have.
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The redhead typing in the corner at Starbucks is getting some attention. Really it's making conversation. I meet the most interesting people, here online and in my various incarnations. Though we talk about all sorts of stuff. I make suggestions about options folks have, we might talk firearms & ammo, food & restaurants, life coaching...it's a microcosm of people. Many of them in transition like me as who has the time to hang at Starbucks midday during the week unless you are? Though a lot of folks do business here too. I've gotten absorbed into a small group of regulars which makes me less productive but is far more interesting.
I seem pretty clueless sometime. I really don't know how others see me. Super sub really brought it to my notice. He's not particularly thrilled with me lately and my dating life. But we are still talking. I value him but I don't think he realizes how much.
Sex. That's what y'all want to hear about in any case. And of course it's one of my favorite subjects. A long conversation with cuck last night. Yeah, I still talk to him. I don't want him. And am fine never meeting again. It has been freeing to know I am not bound to him by the love I once thought I felt. But cuck was the first to not just open up that dark side of mine but to embrace and celebrate it. It helped me reach a balance I never knew I needed until then. So he appreciates more than most some of my less wholesome tendencies. Sure, it also gets him off thinking of me with other men but the man does know parts of me well. He said to me "Darling you are the most sexually exciting woman ever." And I was for him. I why do I write something here that toots my own horn so obviously? Because one day I'll read these entries when I'm old and less mobile and enjoy the fact that I lived passionately.
I have sex like...well I watch others having sex. It's not like me. They cum. They're vocal. It's beautiful. But I'm so driven. Driven to please. And driven to pull the best out of my partner. Driven to indulge every reasonable (and I say that loosely) fetish my partner has whether he knows it or not. And to have him blink in surprise now and then and gasp. Beg. Tell me if I keep doing this or that he is going to cum, so I can reply "ha! If I let you...". I can tell you know...I know that barely perceptible thickening buzz of cock before you fill and erupt. And all it takes is a firm stop with the ring my thumb and first finger make around you cock at the base to ease you back from the edge and bring you there again. But I love pushing a man beyond control. It is the pinnacle for me. Of course it's better if I get particularly well fucked first. And apparently I'm challenge enough that they rise to it. IDK how. IDK why. And IDK what the attraction is because other than having a decent brain and looking a bit younger than 52, I'm rather ordinary in my khakis and conservative gear and hair. Well except occasionally for the color. But I'm economizing there too. Bayalage can wait and managing those lovely grey highlights work for now.
It's more focus on work. And getting my friend through his surgery this week. And being there for those who need me most. It should ease all this angst about attachment and wanting to be someone's girlfriend maybe...I don't even know where that comes from. Old tapes of serial monogamy playing. But I'm a retro chick...
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I feel good. A rapproachment between D & I. I told him frankly I'm uncomfortable wanting a man so much. Having works far better than the wanting. As quite frankly, the past decade has been an exercise in endurance and I've used up all of my patience. And yes, I'm referring to physical want. Though I imagine the man has confused more than a few women emotionally with the way he connects. I, of course, even with the potential for attachment, have no agenda. I won't marry which is manna for men who are younger. And certainly my biological clock only motivates me to have more sex since I don't know if I will have the same desire and capabilities once menopause occurs. I don't want to play stupid games. He wants me or he doesn't. Quite frankly my schedule should be enough to build tension betwixt and between. Super sub would laugh at my first world problems.
I don't really have problems per se. I just think a great deal. Ponder without intent. But it's how I roll. Another payment today per NJ's beautiful probation system and I'm catching up with medical expenses long overdue. I am not a shirker. It feels damn good to take care of business, build my balances back, and still manage to live well enough. I want little. Sex for sure. A few dates. But I am able to purchase new backpacks and the summer reading books without blinking. No one can imagine how complicated it was in the past. And as work increases, we will manage to build some security, the children and I. It's good. The thing is...when I have time...I am driven to fill it with connection. It could be friends. It could be a lover. Or maybe even a party. A road trip is even better, but I'd rather build my balance at present. I'm all too aware of the increase in my obligations. And I schedule myself fun time...July was okay to still have fun time. August a bit, but more about buckling down. And the fall will be a change and work, work, work. I can't see any further than that right now. So I grasp at joy when I can. And that time is now.
One of our fellow cs'ers reached out to me in response to my post of non attachment. He told me he tried to follow such eastern philosophies, but it was always such effort. He realized eventually we are not thinking creatures who feel. But we are emotional creatures who THINK. Lightbulb moment. It's true. And I've been determinedly trying to analyze myself into a box of hormonal response and managing attachment. He wrote "emotions drive the connections we form, not philosophies." And he's right. Perhaps I should give myself permission to just feel what I feel. I manage it sexually. But I fear emotion as many of us do. However, I'm thinking of sighing a great big "fuck it" and just letting go. Seeing what comes. And continuing to do what I do to be fully present in the moment. We'll see if I'm up to it.
Pen
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Great sex. Effortless conversation. A sense of connection. Chemistry. The surprise at how easy it is, like you've known each other forever. All combine to create as sense of intimacy and euphoria. BUT...it's not. I know the lesson. Don't confuse intensity with intimacy. Yet I do it myself all the time.
Super sub reminded me that the issues currently banging around inside me skull are good problems to have. First world problems he calls them. And the man is right. He usually is. He tells me I could have the problem of no one wanting to date me. Whereas there are quite a few, all appealing in completely different ways, and I get to dictate the terms of the relationships (according to ss). I'm not sure I get to dictate much except to say "no."
Intensity is addicting. As much as I should have an addictive personality type with my dysfunctional youth, I don't. It always surprises me. On occasion I think I could be addicted to sex, but usually those forays are non starters as I have this inconvenient moral compass. And quite frankly not just anyone will do. I want to adore on some level whoever I let into my body.
It's likely that pushing my increasing distaste for the parties. For the hosts it is a business of sorts. The mix of sex and money at charging couples and single men for entry strikes me as tawdry. And even as sexual as I am, I'm never tawdry. I go as I am never charged an entry free. If I were, I'd pass. But I wonder sometimes. Making sex a transactional interaction Icks me out. Heaven knows that's what it ends up being in many marriages I know. But not for me.
Sex should be simple. Joy. Pleasure. Mutual giving. Embracing. It's what we are designed to do. No guilt. No shame. No bullshit. But you know, when you add the kissing it gets to me. The oxytocin fueled attachment starts to make me want to Velcro to a guy. And hell, I'll admit it. I fucking crave on some level that old fashioned going steady boyfriend. But I fight it because I've been so damn wrong about people I've fallen in love with before. So I'll sabotage the attraction, not always consciously. because I don't want anything to hurt anymore.
I really really am uncomfortable with wanting anything. And especially anyone. I hope I find ease with a grown ass man I can just let that go with. But that takes that trust and certainty. When you look at the man across the table from you and just know each of you has both feet in. No halfways. All fucking damn in. That's way outside my comfort zone. But I want it. And hell, I've learned to live most of my life outside that comfort zone.
Pen |
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I am beginning to realize why musicians get so much action. They've never appealed to me before TBH but his musicality is more talk than anything I've experienced. I get a desire in my head though and tend be dogged in my pursuit. When I hear from a man who is a musician, I feel a little extra spark as a man with that sensibility is completely foreign to me. As is long hair. And stage presence. The closest I've come is a brilliant lecturer.
IDK if I've mentioned Rockstar before. He has a day job in my industry, but many of his clients ask "dude, what are you doing HERE?" He gives off that musician vibe. Chill most of the time, admittedly a bit of a stoner. I tease him that the highlights in his hair are nicer than mine. He's not a big guy, but well muscled with a few tats and he's got some skill in setting a scene for seduction. Lighting he excels with; a man who lights candles all over his apartment for me makes me grin. Guitars on the walls and a few of his album covers (yes, he actually made a living from his music for a good long time). But he's 50 now and the road gets exhausting and a retirement plan and 40 hour a week job leaves him time to write. Singer songwriter vibe. I told him I'd come over but he had to play so I could be his groupie. Ever been the sole audience for a music man? His keyboard skills are cool, but that fancy acoustic guitar of his and that voice 3 feet from me? OMG. HOT. And I get how musicians get to women. Especially listening to his original stuff, from beautiful to powerful to good energy songs, and his voice is damn good. He seemed a little shallow at first, but chill and fun. But when he talks about where the music comes from and you hear the story of the songs, it pulls your heart.
I don't date guys like this but I am now. The sex...it's incredible. He has a foot fetish. Never turned me on before. I would never even respond to a guy with the same prior, feeling objectified. But I figured how would I know if I don't try? It is hot. The sheer worshipful attention. The foot rub, the kissing, even the coconut oil on my arches and feeling his cock harden quite desperately as he fucks that space. It's utterly sensual. And a surprising turn on. Creative. His creativity extends to the bedroom and he's chill about having a squirter in his bed. With many men the laundry issue makes having a squirter over more of a PITA than hot.
He always has wine waiting for me though I don't think he's ever opened a wine bottle in his life. He finally bought a corkscrew though I still have to open the wine. I find it rather endearing. He's an all around nice guy. Accepting of everyone. We discussed my recent meet with a tranny and he began discussing how very many gender fluid friends he has. He's completely straight so I was surprised at the depth of his knowledge and our common ground at the need to support others. He has an interesting role as a team member in corporate culture while continuing to work on the next album. I am surprised at how good he is. And how completely unselfconscious when performing. That rather awes me. He's given me a few of the band's cds since I clearly enjoy it. And he's thinking of continuing to sing and play for me to bounce his ideas off me and see what I think. All new to me.
I laugh and tell him I would have never met him when I was younger. Musicians were persona non grata to me. But that I need to live out my groupie fantasy now before it's too late. He is fully encouraging. It is wonderful, deeply rewarding, and soul stirring to have a man play for just you. I'd asked TBH to play for me as he has some skill too I'm told. But everything seems just too complicated. Funny how it manages to happen anyway when I let go of expectation and effort. Not the way I originally wanted for sure, but I simply asked and boom, I got it.
Rockstar paid me a compliment that is making me grin. He said out of the blue "You know you exude sex?" I was like where did that come from? He waits for me outside his carriage house apartment to pull up and said "I feel it the minute you pull up." Funny girl me "In a minivan!!??" He grinned. "You have this grin on your face and the minute you get out and amble over to me, I just feel it. You exude sex." Who isn't gonna love that? Now for him, I am less careful how I dress. I'll go more casual, shorter, flip flops, but more sultry eye makeup and I'll rock the red hair. Because its kind of like going to my own private concert. He's a great find. Just for fun, but oh...what a fortunate girl I am. I'm checking thing off a bucket list I didn't even know I had...
A keyboard for the new house might be a christmas gift for all of us this year. I had no idea they were so cool. It's great to experience and learn new things. Last night was like a movie. Being single does NOT suck. And I got paid again. Miracles. Cub is likely pissed since I said no last night to him. And yes, after saying he was going to hunker down and work all weekend...he did change his mind still again and ask me to go out with him last night. He laughed off my simple "I can't. Raincheck?" But I know he's pissed. I'm just not sure what to do about it. Or if I should do anything but let it go too.
I'm pretty sure I want a relationship though y'all reading are probably thinking WTF why?? I'm deeper than all this. Though I am perfectly capable and grateful for the opportunity to experience such fun. It's just that. A little fun to take my mind of all I must do. It does expand and enhance my life, but that supportive integration is going to take a bit more. And that it ultimately what I seek.
A very self indulgent,
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There is a Buddhist doctrine of non attachment. Now I've a great many friends with Buddhist sensibilities who parrot the Dalai Lama at me often. Now he is of course, utterly fabulous. But repeating mantras taken in entirety from others drives me mad as we should find our own. I spent years studying Chanoyu, the Japanese tea ceremony, formally. Ultimately the zen of the experience escaped me and and prescribed ritual pissed me off. I prefer to take and learn and make it my own. And I've done a few demos myself with friends who are interested and charmed. IKD if my tea ceremony box, long packed away, will make it to the cottage but I'm thinking when my life is less about survival and more about sharing and living there might just be a time for such again.
Non attachment. The word has always struck me as the antithesis to everything I'm about. The idea is essentially to try not to hold on so tight hoping for that ever after. To relationships. To material goods. To stages of life. Change happens. Moments arise. Shift is inevitable. The idea is to not let fear affect your ability to embrace the moment fully and for heavens sake, to not depend on it. Yeah I know, the moment you read "Buddhist doctrine" you skipped over the other paragraphs looking for some juicier bits...I'd do the same. But I write this for me, and I read it to remind me where I've been, where I am, and how I get through.
Loyalty and openness are characteristics I value and try to emulate. I don't want to play games, though I do sometimes. I find a guy who charms and fascinates me. Well I end up wanting some surety that our relationship will progress. And I really have a hard time when folks just disappear from my life. That's my personal baggage, though oft times I'm the one who walks away. Abandonment issues...sure have my share of them. I'm no stranger to fear and it makes me shut down now and then. It creates a nearly palpable pressure that fucks things up. Holding onto anything so tight inevitably suffocates it.
I do need others to feed my soul. I wish I didn't. But I value people more than anything in my life. And relationships. I do take good care of myself and my needs. And boy, do I ever understand personal evolution. My life has been nothing but big change lately. Perhaps always. Loss though...loss pisses me off. And I do all I can to prevent or cut it off at the pass so I walk before it happens.
In reality, you never know how long people stay around in your life. And rather than bemoaning their lack of commitment or loyalty, I really do try to enjoy them while I can. A few weeks of romance with the cub, a few years of conversation and a few weekends of pleasure with TBH, the time I have left before my chicks fly the nest...you get what you get. And there's no controlling it. Control is the last thing I want to do as a woman. It makes us harpies and unhappy and doesn't do much for the loved one we are trying to control.
I haven't yet figured out a way to balance my philosophy of reciprocal relationships with non attachment. And quite frankly the whole notion of non attachment doesn't seem like me. I'm all about relationships. But I pick and choose what works and patch it together just like my heart.
Pen
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I blink dazzled by my impression that the whole world is new to me since the divorce was finalized. It's not. But it's taken me back to an earlier incarnation of me, the young woman who rarely had trouble attracting interest and there were endless men to meet. But then I took most of how I felt about myself from what others reflected back at me. And I was a good girl. I dated my ex for a decade before succumbing to marriage, the breakups were usually initiated by me, often after meeting another man I just had to have. I was sexual for sure. But I wanted to possess a guy, to have him completely lose his head over me. But then don't we all? I'm sure I was looking for love, but I also think it was about control.
Now I can meet and date pretty easily. Certainly if I want to get laid, I can. But then ladies, I'll tell you a secret...any of you who wants to get laid can easily. Men have it much harder than us there. We always get to choose as we are the ones who open our bodies to cock and tongue. And that rule is understood. And men...well they really do need to fuck. But then some of them do, feel fabulous, fuck like there's no tomorrow, end up exhausted and go from "omg baby" to "not on a work night." I'm not an easy woman to fuck. I demand a lot. I fortunately get a lot. But I also give and give.
I admit part of the reason I seek company so determinedly these days is that hard work looms and I prefer to grasp at pleasure to waylay it and because I feel on many levels I deserve it. And yes, my heart sinks at weekends that are not organized around a kickass date that I know is going to end with his cock balls deep inside of me. Sure sex is a self medication, just like the gym can be. Neurotransmitters release, we feel vital and alive, and connected. There's a simplicity in doing what we were built to do, a certainty and such pleasure...
I realize my efforts to manage attachment are more than leftovers from living as a separated woman for so long. Limiting relationships were all I could manage I thought. But I now realize that management of attachment and expectation was a strategy borne from years of relationships that ended up in places I didn't want them to go. I've told myself to just relax and sink in with the cub, D. And I did a bit but I'd forgotten a classic dynamic. When a woman is just real, enthusiastic, and skips the artifice of the game a man is awed initially at her confidence. He feels wanted more than he's ever felt before. It's a huge ego boost. Hell, I've been on both ends. When realization of the energy he's putting into a chick hits and novelty wears off, he just craves alone time to watch tv and vege and relax. When work exhaustion contributes, it feels more like need to what D refers to as "hunkering down" for the weekend.
I gave the cub too much time. Far too many compliments. Honestly when a man asks if I like his big thick cock and then if it really IS big and thick...what's a woman going to say? It's beautiful. But it's not Bigfoot's cock. Don't ask a woman who's been to swinger parties to quantify your cock. The average cock size is 5 3/4" long. So yes, a six and a halfer is bigger than average. But I've seen and felt cocks that make me utter the most profane encouragement to "make me take it all." For such a dominant woman at heart, I can completely submit to a great big cock. That said, some of the best sex I've had has been with men on the smaller side. It's is all about how you use it. Is it easier to wield a big sword? Well I'm told most women can't take it. But I can. There is no one size fits all perfect answer.
Cub has backed off with work excuses. I've done the same. And it's true, he has a ton of work to do. As it's been true for me when I've said the same. BUT...we all know when you want someone you make the time despite how busy you are, despite the household tasks at hand, despite other commitments. But thank heavens he did decide to hunker in. I was growing attached. I recognized it as a limitted time engagement. But it isn't often that someone puts forth the same level of effort I do and he did. He romanced me. And I needed it. I needed to be adored. I needed to be the most important thing to him for just a bit. And so I was. But we all know the brightest fires burn out fast.
He's going to change his mind and ask to get together this weekend. I hate wishy washy ness. And heaven knows I've done it myself, not liking myself too much in the process. But now, fuck it, it's game on. Instead of spontaneous texts, I'll stop initiating texts. If he takes 4 hours to respond, I'll take 6. I know men, you're thinking we're all just stupid beyotches...but this is how it works. You want what you don't have. I'm better at wanting what I have more than most, but I too fall victim to finding the appeal in the less obtainable. He'll ask to get together next last minute instead of the days ahead he's did earlier because he was that eager to secure my time. And I, of course, will be busy.
It's partially my fault. I made him feel like the greatest gift a woman could ever have. Stellar virility. A heavy cummer all over my breasts; quantity is new to me and very hot. Great cock. Charming guy. Classy. He is hirsute in an era when it is not fashionable to be hairy. Now generally that's a turn off for me but I liked the guy enough for it to be part of his uniqueness and embraced it. He did trim the goods, as guys, y'all need to do. I enjoy oral but like many women bj quotient is directly related to how well groomed you are down south. I freed up time for him and created time out of the blue. I could've played a game, but it was my time to sink into intimacy and try it. It felt so good. I broke all the rules. But then everything about him broke my usual rules. There was a quiet voice of realism whispering away in my head. But the game has changed now and he won't ever get quite as much of me again.
I'm rather skilled at risk management. And I won't invest anything as precious as time if the potential for reward is less than optimistic. There's my analytical mind watching out for me again. Balance...it's all about balance...Hugs y'all. I'll be writing like a banshee today as my head is full.
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One assumes certain characteristics of younger men. More vigor certainly. I suppose more sexual potency. I usually forgive a level of cluelessness. But of course D, while younger, is not necessarily what I would call a young man though he's certainly younger than I. He's a bit of a chameleon with his thick gorgeous grey hair. Add glasses and a bit of scruff and looks 50ish. Earlier pics with him 10 lbs thinner, his high cheekbones, blue eyes with those dark brows, and intensity have him looking eons younger. He eats crap and it's going to start to show though I don't mind a man with a little softness to him. A little I said. Not only softness. I prefer a belly with a little give to rock hard abs. And smaller bi and triceps though hard. I like hard. Men are delicious that way. I'm wearing him out. Well he is wearing himself out. We laugh at silly words we come up with. I tell him his cock is harder and stays harder than others in my experience. It's not that other cocks aren't hard but there are sort of degrees of hardness. I likened it to semi precious stones and out popped "you know, you're incredibly hard...like a diamond." I might have just blown out his ego for life and certainly tickled him pink with his newly christened "diamond cock." We laugh a great deal and I encourage irreverent communication. He likens sex with me to the Super Bowl. Admittedly I can take a lot. More than anyone has before in his experience, but that's my ridiculous libido and the benefit of rarely having lubrication issues. If anything there's too much. He's exhausted. It catches up with me too in the early evening and I find myself nodding off after a night before spent with him. But the morning after I am usually energized and fun and silly and ready to roar. There is nothing that makes me higher than fucking a guy there's some connection with. The oxytocin and serotonin hit make me silly, smiling, and appreciative. It's more than young women do he tells me. Men apparently are not used to being appreciated in the sack, but made to feel more like a woman has done them a favor. That's a shame but I hear that attitude too from most of my married women friends. One friend was sent a photo of rose petals and candles via text when we were out to dinner. I watched her sigh and say "fuck, now I'm going to have to have sex tonight." Where's the desire? Where's the joy! Where's the wanting? I simply want to be wanted, ultimately more than any other woman to a man, and to feel the same for him.
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D really is a delightful date. A new seafood place on the water that nearly had me catch my breath since it was just a block from BC's place. Of course the only parking was on BC's street but fortunately D didn't pick the space just in front of the house. At some point these folks in the lifestyle I know will intersect. It's part of the reason I stay away from the nudist beach where so many congregate from the various groups I frequent. Plus quite frankly I prefer to bare all in private over public and avoid burning my delicate bits. As I spend more time with him what is becoming apparent are the limits to his sophistication and interest in the greater world. I enjoyed TBH's political passion, though I've been apolitical at best until recently. D still appreciates things and the acquisition of them in ways I no longer do. Boys and cars...he is friendly and is bent on showing me his world and the people who inhabit it. It's even more insular than my town and he knows everyone in the few years he has lived there. I admire folks who have the talent to build relationships. Though there's an element to him, necessary in his business, of always looking for the next deal. It makes me take note of how he files away and uses contacts. I know it's the world of networking anymore, but I was taught to decidedly not push myself on others. But he and his circle are intent on introducing me to insiders in my industry. I'm grateful, but IDK...I'd prefer to find my own way and not be as known. Old habits die hard.
It really was a perfect date. The water, great food and a dark n stormy, watching the parties on the docked boats, and tucking in for a great conversation on a bench on th water. He was again perpetually hard and I occasionally brushed the back of my hand over the front of his shorts to hear him moan just a bit. He took me to see a bar walkable from his house, grandfathered in since prohibition days. He's romantic. Handholding is just a matter of course as we ambled back to his bungalow.
Kissing is something that I gave up on some time ago. CW wasn't so great at it. BC tried but it never really flowed. It was TBH who really taught me to kiss again and to appreciate it so much that I almost crave it more than cock. I do miss that man's mouth and brain. His cock was pretty spectacular too, but that was less important to me about him. I liked the guy. But I think it's time I let any ideas of that furthering go. He's there I'm here. The last time we were skin to skin was months ago. Though we did meet when my family and I were in town. I just can't see him ever wanting anything to go out of his way to pursue it. He's settled and set. I know he regrets some choices he made...not having children, not staying in California, never marrying. Ours is a friendship I wanted and pursued. But I grew attached to him and I don't think he did with me. Though it's odd. I don't understand him. Mixed signals galore there. He was unfailingly kind but I think he would be a man I'd always want more than he ever would want me. Mixed messages. He asked to get together. I replied okay, how 'bout next weekend? No damn reply other than friendly conversation.
I'm direct. It's easy. I don't like folks who play games. That's why it's so simple at parties and with D. I have been particularly well fucked these past few weeks. And D has taught me what I'm really looking for. This is going to sound snooty, but I think I need a guy with a big job. Rather like the nature of mine. Otherwise they have too much time. And they tend to complain about things that just sound like nitpicking. They get annoyed at small potatoes. And I begin to view such as a lack of maturity. For all my recent try at cougaring, it's still older men with a little wear on their tires, equally patched up hearts, and character that make me weak kneed. It's good to know what I want. So I'll appreciate the lesson here.
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I'm still thinking about that red dress. Y'all know the one. I'd wear it at that proverbial party to celebrate the finalization of my divorce. I found it. And on occasion I visit the fancier mall at the county seat to take a look at it again. But I don't want to spend money. Funny thing is...there's another red dress from years ago in the closet I store off-season clothing, luggage, the aerobeds, and a very few fancy dresses that made me feel powerful and utterly feminine. I fell in love with it, expecting an invitation to a party that never came. The danger of having expectations...it still has it's tags on it and periodically I try it on. But it's more pretty than sexy. It may go the way of other expectations in my life and get edited away for someone who could use it better and shine in it.
IDK...I think my red dress is invisible. Something I wear every day. An attitude of celebration and hopefulness. Wow, I said "hopefulness." Now that's new. "Powerful" I don't need to feel so much anymore as I'm not battling out any power dynamic real or sexual. "Free" that's what I want, seek, and am.
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Ensconced in a Starbucks a distance from home...as I often am. Though I prefer local tea & coffee houses more. Should you see a redhead of a certain age tucked away in a corner of such tapping away on her keyboard, let your mind wonder... it could be me... People bring energy to me and increase my productivity. Solo I can be a slug. I forget to eat, mess up my sleep/wake cycle, and struggle to motivate myself. The secret of course is to find a table far enough away from the front so I can people watch (I still don't get the sheer volume of people willing to stand around waiting for coffee they spent 5 bucks for). The business men in their suits I try to picture in jeans (far more attractive). The women with toddlers on their hips talking baby talk I have less patience for; though of course I was that woman and the young are delicious in their purity of spirit and the extra plumpness to their faces you just want to kiss. Though I am fortunate that my children are rarely beasts these days. I adore watching them turn into such unique individuals I LIKE. There's always a segment of customers in scrubs loading up trays upon trays of coffee. And women of various shapes, sizes and ages who interest me most. I wonder sometimes what someone sees when they look at me. Older women, especially those out with sons or daughters, are the best. Friendly, we invariably strike up conversations either about my studies or the keyboard I use with my ipad they're curious about. To me they all offer me a glimpse of what it would be like should my Gran still be around though Starbucks would be far too fancy for her preferences. Entenmen's cheese danish and granulated instant decaf coffee made with one very small level plasic teaspoon in a small mug filled to the the very top. Mind you, the water had to be taken off the burner the minute it boiled in the saucepan she preferred over a kettle and should there be water left in the pan you'd be "wasteful" so precise was she. But many of us get set in our ways. And she was such a well loved matriarch that we towed her line.
I wonder in what ways I will solidify as I age and whether I will still be able to embrace this spirit of expansion. I hope so. I watched my Gran reach a plateau. She was ready to die for a long time. She outlived friends, family, and contemporaries. And there was little for her to look forward to. She saw her life as lived. Her pup gave her purpose. But as you age and grow tired and your physical life grows limited, I can see why she was ready. My children told me I have only lived half my life. At 52, that puts me at 104 life expectancy according to them. I told them at 100 we'll have a feast with 100 different dishes before my youngest said I probably can make it to 96...Ha!
I spoke with a cohort who left us. Her husband is military so she has to move every several years. I love her. I expect little from her. But when we talk, it's deeply intimate. We are both women who are most comfortable going it alone when things get very hard. My strict Gran who I lived with off and on most of my childhood, taught me a few gems. "Never ask for anything from anyone." "If you don't have anything good to say, say nothing at all." The latter can be useful with adolescents. The former can create levels of dysfunction while promoting utter self possession at least outwardly. My friend and I have the same difficulty asking for help. She is the most fearless woman I have ever known. She spent her childhood taking care of a mentally ill mother, fearing the same fate was in store for her. We never know what cards we will be dealt there. And I've other friends who have had debilitating illnesses. There were times married to my ex when I thought I might be crazy. Watching his subsequent girlfriends start to lose it and investigating the damage passive aggression can do...well...there was a vindication when our marriage blew up. Til then everyone saw me as the needy problem to why he didn't have time or focus. Family and friends saw me broken for a time at his betrayal but they found moments to offer me an apology here and there. They told me omg, it was him...and they never knew. I am granted a level of respect now and boundaries no one will try to cross.
I suppose this all comes up since these two, Gran and my ex, had a great deal of impact on my attachment style. And quite frankly, going ahead, I don't want to do it in a fucked up way. But the old rules seem archaic. Yet I'm still a conservative good girl at heart. Nice. Who really really likes to fuck. But I adore making love too. And I'd like to be with a guy who can kiss me the whole time he's fucking me and be bonded enough to spend the rest of the day filled with his cum. I'd like the same guy to be able to push me over the arm of his sofa, tear my pants down and fuck me like an animal. Or to bind me to his bed and tease me with mouth and hands and cock until I am begging him to fuck me. I'm still a good girl. I'm just one who embraces natural processes in unusual ways. But I'm not the only one out there like that. I find more and more commonalities with my social connections in the swingers community though I still find it hard to call myself a swinger. When I grow attached I crave one cock. I've always been a monogamist. IDK if that has changed or not but I don't think you can go deep and be connected the way I want to without some level of commitment. But to me commitment isn't about saying some words. It's about letting someone in. But even more so being so appreciative they are part of your life and thinking they're that fabulous that you can't help but seek them out every opportunity you get.
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I re-read and occasionally edit my posts and the frequent typos. It strikes me lately that my attachment style may be a bit fucked up. I want it. I seek it. But I'm so uncomfortable wanting someone. Particularly since I often perceive my desire for a man I want greater than his for me. So I use coping techniques. Some downright fun. And some perhaps damaging to developing an attachment. I've hurt the men in my past two relationships and ended up not liking myself so much as a result. I still did the grown up thing and didn't seek rapproachment even still wanting them since I knew it was not going to work out. So I'll give myself credit for that. But connecting with others in more modern, less defined relationships and managing expectation and attachment...well, I wonder if I'm selling myself and my partner short. But I'm a woman done with marriage for a long time. I have never lived with a man I have not been married to and don't particularly wish to. But I do desire a level of mutual support and intimacy that will not develop unless I let myself want and sink into attachment. I dismiss my emotions as chemical reactions to sex. Of course this is why the pundits suggest we wait to have sex. Get to know each other first to avoid levels of false attachment. I am too sexual likely to not want to fuck a partner early in the game. It's important that chemistry exists for me to develop affection. And dating...well...there's a level of respect there rather than the transactional nature of getting off in just a hook up. Just thoughts and a curiousity of myself and whether perhaps I'm a little more fucked up than I thought...
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Yesterday...it was as if I were living in a movie. Or one of the books I used to read for escape. But there's nothing I need escape from anymore as life, well...it's pretty damn good. There's a requirement for thought and planning and some economies, but ohhhhh...the world is a great big wide one again. So D (the youngish man I've been dating) continues to surprise. I need to create some space there as we have spent far too much time together this week and I know to beware of the oxytocin fueled attachment feelings great sex brings. It was a mistake I made with BC...so much seemingly in common, meant-to-be feelings, the first month. By month three I could see the differences in how we related to people and how we saw the world. I could learn from him and appreciate him, but his paternalism grated. I've never had a proper daddy and sure don't want one now.
What I want: Equals. FUN with all caps. Exploration. Expansion. Caring. Sex where both partners give and reciprocate. And that hug, cyber or otherwise, when a day just sucks. Mutual support. Calling on each other's strengths and knowledge to help each other. Friendship. Integration where you are part of each other's lives and know the folks important to each. Being a sounding board.
D...the texts, wide open and friendly. The offer to use his cottage whenever I need a place to work/study. His curiousity and occasional wide eyes at my answers. I left a conference where I was treated royally early, after having time to spend with my cohorts. It was the first time we had social time since my endless divorce was finalized. Their cheers and congrats and sheer happiness at my freedom did me good. For so long they've supported me through hardships that seemed would never end. It's remarkable they stuck it out with me as some of my older friends grew tired of my tribulations and and did not. But sometimes hot water is the true test of a friendship and those are the folks I want in my life. D invited me to use the bungalow as he was still on a job. But that level of comfort seems unwarranted so early, as kind as his offer was. I think finding me ensconced in his house might be a bit more than he wants despite the newness of me right now. Still...it's charming.
We met up with local friends of his, many older than he & I. It is interesting his circles are are about people he likes and neighborly connections rather than those you find yourself in a similar place in life with. I've learned from him there. A private reception at a local hot spot on the fly, hors d'oevres, then a walk to casual dinner and drinks as the place filled with locals. I've lived in a far less hoighty toighty town for years and never felt quite as welcome. IDK if it's the buttoned up tight life I've led and my hesitation to let anyone into how fucked up getting though the past years has been or the exclusionary bent of our locals to those that don't fit the mold.
But it felt GOOD. So good to just BE and go with wherever the wind took us. D seemed to need to reassure me that it'll be fun if I was open to go here or there. But age does bring enough self possession to feel comfortable in my own skin wherever I end up. I enjoy that he loves women. I can see him glance and wonder what other women might be like in bed, particularly those long married, polished to a glacial shine who are attracted more to wallets than charm. The women are beautiful. The men perhaps more so. Fit, groomed, expensive...it's not my neck of the woods but it is lovely to watch those who are truly good friends look after each other. One of D's friends is woman of a certain age, very fit, lovely likely enhanced breasts, veneered smile, rough accent...you get to know her and find she's been through the trenches despite her outer appearance. The life of the party, her husband divorced her and left her with more children than I to support out of the blue a few years ago. In divorce friends chose sides. And usually it's with the person who can help them most or has the most perceived power. Her friends clearly chose her, while she downsized her home, and found a job in town so she could manage medical insurance for herself and stayed. The husbands got together with her hubby then met their wives with her in the bar. Loyalty is rare these days. I appreciate it when I see it.
D..he makes me purrr....the blessing of youth is an impossibly hard cock that recovers over and over and can come 3X in in a few hours. But his charm is unexpected. And the fact that I charm him for my self possession, calm temperament, lack of desire to own him, and ability to take him incessantly...well that apparently is the appeal we modern classics have for the newer models. I told my cohorts of my cougaring exploits. Aside from "he's not even 40?!?", requests for his pic "ah, okay, he looks older with his glasses...", and my assent to "younger men have great energy"...they encouraged me to enjoy him for the short time I am cognizant it is likely to last. And that is precisely what I am doing.
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I love men. Ultimately I think it's just that simple. Sure I adore cocks. Yes, a fine ass has me doing a double take. Slathering cream on my chin and nose for days after kissing a man with just the perfect amount of scruff is worth it. The sheer tenderness of a freshly shaved face makes my mouth water. Bulky shoulders make me want to reach out and touch. Balls...I love balls...did I mention my ex only had one? A pair of twin balls...some perfectly symmetrical and some not feed my curiousity. I'm tender. And shaved balls...well I know how tricky it is to shave private parts...I'm incredilbly appreciative. At a party a few weeks back the delicious R with the 8" girth supported my head while I was fucked by another after making him cum 3 times....(it's an ego boost, a man who keeps getting hard for you). I inched my head under his thighs until I was sucking his balls carefully. He begged, pleaded, and eventually groaned his pleasure and he spurted all over my breasts from just my lips and tongue on balls...one of the most highly charged erotic moments I've ever had. I like men who don't expect me to read their minds and can just say or do what they want. I like simple desire. I like telling it like it is. I enjoy others who find sex as natural and shame free as I do. And deep voices with a little gravel to them...I could cum from just listening to y'all talk, The storm has arrived. I've fucked beyond fabulously this week. And I still crave more. Rain and thunder make me want to strip a man of his clothes, push him onto my bed, and torture his cock with my lips and mouth til he's desperate to be inside of me. That's what it's all about with me, you know, penetration. And D, mature sweet young thing, can fuck like a stallion. It's nothing I've ever seen before and I've seen much. He wants to be my bull, my lover, my friend...and truly I'm flattered.
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I've had an unexpected whirlwind fun time with D (my new date 14 yrs my junior). It's prompted me to rethink my views on May December romance which have been decidedly conventional. Of course the older male/younger female connection has existed as long as we've been on the planet. As common as it is, I've always looked at relationships between people I've perceived as lacking equality to be ridiculous and somehow not capable of being completely "real." I dated older men in my late college years, finding their sophistication, desire to please, and manners far more appealing than frat boys. But now of course, as I get older, that dating pool enters the start of old age, retirement, and some are very set in their ways as to become boomer stereotypes. Not all. But many. And a paternalism, a desire to pontificate and give me unsought advice, can develop which usually serves to just piss me off. The experience of a woman of a certain age who has lived my life (of worker bee, entrepreneur, primary solo caregiver of children, special needs advocate, divorcee, and late career change chickadee) versus that of a man in his retirement years is very different. I enjoy stories and sharing. But I want to be seen as a desirable woman over a good stable choice for a man who is alone. We all want to be desired above all else for a time, don't we? It makes that tiny voice inside that's always told us we are "special" reverberate with confidence and we glow...
I realize I am growing more interesting as I age. I think we all do. Hence the appeal of a vintage model with life experience and character. You can walk into a room like you own it, even if you are shaking in your boots. You can relate to nearly anyone and charm them. You are brave with compliments, take little personally, and project a confidence the young simply don't know themselves well enough to have. And then there's humor. Sophistication. Wit. Skill between the sheets. But I think the greatest of all is appreciation. We are fearless in expressing our appreciation of others. Well, I am. That alone seems to have made an impression on D. He finds me courageous and brave whereas I see it as just being real. I love his characterization of me as a modern classic. I think I just might be growing into one...
So D...the sex is stellar. I had him over to my place. I simply don't need to exercise former levels of discretion I self-limited myself with. Still careful. But he checks out. I've spent time in his neighborhood, know some of his neighbors personally, and he has a very public business that is well thought of. I know he passes a background check with flying colors (yes, I run one on anyone who I invite into the home I share with my children). I was honest about preferring not to have a sleepover during the week when my children would arrive home the next morning early. I have never had an overnight guest in the decade plus I've been solo with the children in the house. That may change if something of significance develops monogamously. I've made it clear to the children I am dating. I won't be anything less than genuine and honest to those I care about.
I feel like I'm writing a new personal manifesto. D has me thinking. I have no illusions of this continuing more than my usual...enamored for 3 months until we begin to know each other warts and all. That's about the stage you see the differences over the commonalities of the honeymoon stage. And for me, there is either movement/progression or repetition. Repetition becomes the death knell for me. As does the expectation that I will give one person all my leisure time. I begin to get time crunched as my commitments expand in the fall as well. Sometimes I use it as an excuse; other times I know getting together with a guy I truly adore helps me be more chill in managing my day-to-day. Though the thought of basics...meeting for breakfast & a bike ride, cozying together in front of the tv necking your way through a show, helping each other in the garden or to clean a firearm or any of the multitude of ordinaries that become fun when shared...well I seek that too. It's evolving. But I do know. I want to date. Dinner out. Conversation. Flirtation. Fucking. Tucking in. Breakfast. And then go on with our day texting naughty lovely thank you's. The intimacy of asking all sorts of questions from stage of live, to past relationships, to sex, to career path, to what you want...and answering them easily is something the young with less baggage do more freely than the rest of us well versed in the rules. But that freedom of intimacy is a turn on for me.
I do get attached. I'm perfectly capable of falling in love. Staying in love, well...I'm hoping to learn. Currently "friends who fuck" is the simple undefined term that describes the incarnation of most of my relationships though there aren't too many of them. It helps me to date more than one person as a very few men I begin to crave more than my comfort level. Certainly my desire for TBH began to clamor at me. This is better. Balanced. When I'm more balanced I am fearless. Not afraid to text first. Not all girly and squirrely, wondering what this means and what he thinks. Not attached to any particular outcome. Just real. I appreciate what is and stop overthinking it.
I do, however, think I may send confusing messages. My morality is essentially conservative. Do unto others. Never have I lived with a man I haven't been married to. Live real. Try not to lie. Do no harm. Pay my bills. Do what I say I'm going to do. Be a role model for my children. If I can help, help. The biggest change is that I am not a bystander any more. I have the confidence to insert myself into a situation if I am needed, the wisdom to know when I should stay out of it, and enough confidence to not take any negative reaction personally nor to push myself on another. Take it or leave it, I'm here. I want to be here. And I want to engage. The best is when it's a kismet moment. Two people play off each other and and the sum of the two together is greater than it's parts. That's when the magic happens. And I find this girl who stopped believing in fairy tales still believes in magic...in making her own.
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I know on one level I am a bit ridiculous enjoying a man 14 years my junior. I've been researching cougaring though I still find the term sticks in my throat. Admittedly I don't look at him and think "younger man." I see his unlined face, mostly grey wavy hair, grin, bit of scruff, and those blue blue eyes simply wanting to please me...and I say "YES." He's bringing his A game since I supposedly know more, am more self possessed, and want very little from him but him naked and pushing me as far as I can go. It's intoxicating. It's fun. He's so unabashedly affectionate. Usually I feel I want to touch a partner too much as I crave connection and tactile stimulation. But here is a mutuality that surprises us both. Of course he enjoys me as I have no agenda. I don't want to marry him. I don't want to trap him into babies. I don't need to own his time. And so he pursues me. I'll admit it. I'm a woman who craves attention. And he craves my abandon. It's not bad, folks. But we all know fires that burn this bright fizzle out quick. So I'll enjoy it while it is.
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This delicious young man makes me feel like the me I was when I was mostly solo, independent, and working my ass off...and young. I see now why we go a'cougaring. The efforts of a man to woo a mature woman can truly be stellar. And he's wooing. Maybe from an older man it would seem insincere. IDK. I doubt few older men could be this open. There's a generational gap for sure. He's tech savvy, educated, self supporting and working his ass off. He has pressure but he's not bored with what he does. I read an article today detailing how lost many men in the boomer generation seem lost sheep and the only way they can get a woman is to "dangle their Porsche keys." I laugh as my former cuck has chosen just such as his new car; I tried to be complimentary but all I could think was how ridiculous he is. I know, I know, men love cars. A classy vintage one is cool. But a retirement age man is far more virile in a pick up than in a silly little Porsche. And yes, women know the faster and flashier your car, the less your dick rises. Sorry boys, but that's what we think.
Same article talks of men in their 30s who grew up with AIDS and are considerate. The ones interested in older women tend to be stable and mature. They don't want to be mothered as so many older men do. I was married all through my 30s and raising babies. So at 38 I hadn't learned much. It was just spending money, taking care of babies while trying to run my business, and feeling like I wasn't spending enough time with either. The confidence of now came hard won. And the self knowledge. I'm beginning to see why he finds what he calls "my confidence" about knowing what I want appealing.
Older men, don't take my words to heart. It's just someone else's and my efforts and convincing myself that spending time with this man is okay. I would likely judge another woman who did the same as ridiculous and inappropriate. But perhaps this is a lesson for me. I adore older men. But not when they are paternal and tell me what to do. And certainly when I'm little more than that nurse with a purse they are all moslty looking for. I want a man who is so happy to be with me that he can't keep quiet about it. Who introduces me to friends and neighbors and wants to shout it from the mountaintops because he is so damn happy. Not one who is ashamed or concerned or "discrete." And that is that.
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Perhaps this is my new divorcee wild child time. Or perhaps it's the universe putting in front of me just what I need at this particular moment in time. I was concerned to spend my first solo divorced weekend alone. Why? IDK. It seemed a time I should be with friends or a lover. It's been so long coming that everyone had gotten tired of my endless undivorced state. And seemed a mere formality. But to me, it's momentous.
I can't say I've "dated" younger men in the past. Certainly I have lovely friends who fit that deion. And I've fucked more than a few men who made me gulp when they told me their age. But it's been all in good fun and mutual escapism. But this time it was a date. A date that likely would end in fucking, but a date none the same. When sex is one's primary motive, dating usually doesn't happen. Generally men of a certain age are wonderful hosts. Wine, conversation, seduction. And the rare one has a beautiful youthful spirit of adventure combined with wit and sophistication. That is a delicious man. That is TBH.
But as much as he fascinates me, I'm trying not to focus on him here. Not today.
I didn't expect much of a late 30 something guy. I'm told most younger people don't even date anymore. Just hang out. Meet in groups. And the delightful "whatever." But he pursued me determinedly though I didn't respond to his initial texts at all, thinking due to his locale he could possibly be an employee of my ex. We'd had a great telephone conversation in the past so clearly we were likely to be easy together.
We met at in a shore town I hadn't visited for years but always drove through wondering about this particular place. It was charming, and whimsical, and had my odd drink as a standard, something rarely found outside of sailing circles. And he was nervous, but genuine about it, solicitous, and real. And blessedly he didn't look as young as his chronical age. Men who look intelligent turn me on and when their words verify such, well darlin's my panties get damp. There's a joy to man whose eyes brighten rather than a blank "huh?" When a big word pops inadvertently out of my mouth. I'm not that smart. But I've read a lot and my vocab can sometimes be a bit much.
Yes, I spent the night in his cottage across the water in the well-to-do town nearby. And OMG I had FUN. I understand why women go a'cougaring. Though I have always been decidedly anti. Sigh. It seems I now have a friend as young as the younger model my ex is living with. It's not easy to find a classy guy who gets the big pic. Friendship. Sex. Sharing a meal. Exploration. Communication. Expansion. Kindness. Openness. He has nothing to hide. No need for subterfuge. No need for "discretion." Met his charming pup. Walked her with him in the morning to the cafe around the corner for croissants and tea. Crazy wild sex combined with simple neighborly wholesomeness. It was refreshing. Now he could think I'm wealthy and going to turn him into my latest (ha, only! Boy toy) but the 10 yr old beat up minivan should have cleared that misapprehension up.
There was so much flirting. And touching. Classy. We weren't mauling each other at the bar. But it was delightful. And the occasional brush by with that palpable incessantly hard cock. I know, I'm crowing. But it was delicious. I recognize the appeal is part of limerance when all you see in the fog of lust is commonality after commonality. I know his business. He can help me with my editing just when I need it. We both started our careers in the finance arena. We know antiques and fine firearms. I need to remember the differences. His youth. Cultural differences. Stage of life differences. His attraction to fancy cars (I'm sorry darlings but men with little sports cars tickle my funny bone).
He invited me to lunch yesterday again. So yeah, I'm as suseptible to attention as anyone. When I arrived, he introduced me to his charming elderly neighbor and we continued our conversation about my work and her past career in the same industry on his lovely porch. IDK if he's marketing himself or if he's real. But it's so damn nice. And he is decidedly single and a good friend to many. We laughed hysterically in a conversation where I told him to think of me as "vintage" and he refused calling me a "modern classic." Ha! Charm.
I am having FUN. I wish the same to you.
Pen
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An unexpectedly charming time with a man younger than I should probably date. True he's a bit retro like me and fortunately went grey early, but that baby face is a give away. A surprisingly class act. Great conversation. Stellar dark & stormies to his rather more sophisticated drink. Nice food waterside at a new place for me. Then a walk to a traditional shore institution rebuilt at long last since Sandy with a bar on the beach. He was interesting. Affectionate. Friendly. And quite obviously attracted to me, though the May December attraction always puzzles me when I'm the December. Heaven knows I prefer older men but I'm not going to limit myself in any way. I could see he was palpably hard all night. Is it wicked to admit I love that response? And it does my ego good.
He was fascinated with my ass. It's behind me so I don't get to see what the appeal is. It's pale and white and serviceable to me. But men seem to dig it. I'm told it's firmer than most. And a woman at the party this week was charming in her admiration. Apparently she perceives the globes and two perfect bubbles of roundness. Thank heavens booty is in as I was always a bit embarrassed by its prominence.
I remained very surprised at last night's connection. I think perhaps we may become friends. He told me to reach out to him when I returned from the vaca. But of course I didn't as I find it hard to approach men and am less likely with new. But apparently he had a continued interest though I'd given up meeting him weeks ago. It was lovely to tell someone who knew me as a separated woman that I divorced last week. What a sense of finality and freedom and just simplicity it is to be just me and not part of a long-past-its-expiration-date pair. I AM so happy it's done. Darlin's in case you haven't been with me all along, I was separated nearly a decade. That's a long time to live betwixt and between.
I remain inexorably drawn to TBH, but he's a distance away and we are friends at present and hopefully remain so. Though I admit kissing him is just art. It's beautiful. But my days of hotels are thinning as is my budget. And IDK if we'll ever reach the simple "come up for the weekend" state. He seems a bit guarded there. I just hope I haven't repeated the same mistake I did with cuck who ended up married and I ended up appalled. I don't think he's married. But it is likely he lives with someone. Maybe. I can't figure it out. Really a stellar guy outwardly so IDK where I get it from. But until I've been let in I can't really let him in more than I already have. And he met my family. That has always been a big deal in the past. But now it was simple. There was ease.
You understand, right, that I'm a 52 yr old size 14 chick with wobbly bits, stretch marks, that pouch of skin a Caesarean section gives you that never comes back...eyelids that droop a bit more each year....and rather on the chubby side? A nice ass, a damn good mind, a kind if patched up heart... I don't get why men who are such visual creatures want me. I'm not hideous, pretty enough face. But for some reason I get more attention than I should. I have sense of humor. But I'm in the middle of the age of invisibility. Men don't make passes at me in my daily life. But I get to talking. And something happens. Or maybe everyone is just looking to get laid and it's that simple. I know from the get go there are men who are willing to "overlook" my wobbly bits. But I can tell when he's doubtful he can remain attracted to me, even if he gets me personality wise. It happened to me once before when I was courted by a very witty man in the my first forays back into the dating game. He was completely attracted to my spirit and mind, and encouraged the connection only to find he couldn't quite deal with my "waist" size. I'd never had body issues until that one.
I don't know that I have issues now. I can get naked in all my imperfection. I can feel a little more vulnerable than most the first time I do. I can see a glance linger too long at my stretch marked lower abdomen. I've learned to be proud of those tiger stripes. I was a trooper though 4 difficult pregnancies, most advanced age. And the end result makes the battle scars unimportant though I hated them for a long time. But I see my children have my same skin and some are already plagued with the marks with fast growth. I enjoy swinger parties so much because I can see bodies at various stages of development in all their imperfections and glory. It can bring a woman to a greater acceptance of the natural changes of ageing and changes in metabolism. Just thoughts.
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I've had a nervous heart today, the first weekend I will spend solo and completely single since the divorce. I LIKE having plans. And I did manage them. Primarily because without I can't see fit to relax and would have to work my a@@ off all weekend. Monday is soon enough. I need some time now with people who get me. For the first time I got paid funds due from the ex on time and in full, as I'm told will more often than not be the case when enforced by the state probation system. It's a shame it's necessary. But his fiscal mismanagement decimated any goodwill. I feel in some ways new. Like a chick newly hatched all fuzzy and slightly wobbly on my feet. Or a butterfly just out of her chrysallis, utterly vulnerable while her wings dry before she can fly. Slow as it goes with the money as much as I want to blow some of it on a big bed and fuck like mad in it...I'm still bed shopping for a bed with room to share.
I've a semi-meeting, semi-date this evening which a guy I met professionally. Fun, food and alcohol is all I'm seeking. And a mutual sharing of knowledge. I don't know why it feels different when the ex and I were separated for so long to now feel like this divorced. I will say this...I don't feel sad any more. I feel truly free. And that I've long prepared for. I lived quietly. Didn't introduce many others into my life. Didn't talk about all that much that was going on. Certainly didn't tell the story. Primarily because it's sordid and stupid and I don't want it making it's way back to my children. Children should respect their father and I'm not going throw eggs at his glass house.
But I admit it's odd. I want to tuck in and be comforted in one way. I want to prepare for what's next in others. But what I need most right this moment is to be around people, have conversation, get out of my own head space (though it's good space at present), and expand my life.
Thanks for reading the words of a woman who is trying to make sense of a place she's never been before. Trying to live well and do something good. And trying to connect and open her world. Do help by sharing yourself.
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I need this weekend to be about what I WANT to do over what I HAVE to do. I just returned from a vaca and it might seem terribly indulgent. But it was a family vacation and there is tremendous work inherent there. And conflict to resolve. And far too much thinking and balancing focused on others. But now I am off duty and seek to just BE. Next week the real work starts and I can't say I'm looking forward to it. Fucking too would be lovely. But more than that. I want to use all of me to pleasure and be used in return. Naughty girl.
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Well I wore a red dress (one in my closet rather than that blank spanking new one I want) and went to a party last night. I told a few folks who know me of my new found freedom. When you reveal you are divorced the first go to response is "Oh...I'm sorry." But when they realize how it's no longer an "I'm sorry" moment and instead a long awaited freedom from a connection that served to drag me down over enhance my life...well then congratulations are in order. A few offers to assist my celebration and a bit of naked time. Yes, it was that kind of party.
R was there. A delicious man. We've an ongoing flirtation. But I always make sure to leave before he can get my contact information. Men who are that attractive make me nervous. My go to is to ignore them or just lay it all out there and ask them how they deal with all the attention they get. Generally the more traditionally attractive a man is, the less so I find him. I prefer a face with harder angles and men with prominent noses. Though add a dimple or two to such a masculine face when they smile, and it slays me. It's more about grooming and hygiene. At one time I adored men with hairy chests but now I prefer more manscaped than not. Not hairless mind you, but not quite to the point of fur either. Arms though particularly perceptible biceps, make my mouth water. Add hands that are capable and thoroughly masculine, my mind starts wondering what they'd feel like on my breasts. Yes, I'm a horny girl...
Generally t girls are just beyond my range. Definitely sexually. But I had a lovely long conversation with a man who is transitioning. He/she...the correct address seems to be "she" when dressed as a female. So she wore a schoolgirl ish outfit with a substantial strap on just above her cock which remained small and unerect. Beautiful makeup. I need more skill myself with coutouring as I have cheekbones that could likely be better accented. But as much as I like my lotions and potions, I could still learn a great deal. T girls are the best for make up tips. But we discussed estrogen vs testosterone (and what an excess of testosterone R clearly had). And more details of her choice to transition. It's not unusual for me to meet sexually diverse folks and I'm so straight that it helps to know and talk with those whose frame of reference is clearly so different from my own so I can relate.
An interesting night. But I found myself craving foreplay and kissing and spending time on a particular fine cock I know. But admittedly I have reservations. It seems unlikely that the guy I have in mind is not single. But I've fucked up there before and ended up in situations that were painful to get out of, so I know it's not impossible for me to misjudge. I haven't been invited to the man's home and IDK why I let it go on the way I have without. Sometime you want someone that much that all your rules and caution get tossed out. A man hosting asap is usually my litmus test and first thing I insist on before getting intimate. I've no desire to fuck another woman's guy. I may have to walk away from his charm & wit & irrepressible grin if we don't both let each other in that way. I've pushed beyond former comfort levels. It's just floating around in my brain tickling my cortex now and then.
Pen
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It's a beautiful home I have and I'll make a beautiful life in the new one in a few months. I forget when I'm here too long. Our vaca was beautiful and wonderful and extraordinary. But so too is our life here. And it's good to be back in my astonishingly comfortable bed. I keep thinking to replace it with a bigger one with room to spare. But it's lovely and vintage and bright and solid wood. I think I might just wait. I get these ideas of things I must have, as if they are talismans. A red dress to celebrate my independence. A big bed to show there's room in my life for someone to share it. A new house for a new life. I LIKE things. I like having stuff. Good stuff. But I recognize too much stuff is a burden, so I'll have to have a little disclipline and edit rather than add to a life already too full. I've started a list of definite will-go's to the new place. The huge oak factory table that serves us all so well. The sgrafitto olive jar with Phoenix and urns and filled with color that I bought at auction years ago. A jade lamp. Hundreds of years of shells collected long by the family who owned our house before we did and those we've added to the collection. Mineral specimens, a piece of drift wood. But there's so much I've lived with so long I don't see. I'll follow the rule if I haven't used it in a year, sell it. Endless kitchen supplies and books. It has gotten easier for me toss things and I do a bit more every day.
I want TBH. Dreamt of the man last night. Or perhaps it was that I stayed in the dream state at first light, wishing the pillow along my back was he. With my eyes closed I could feel his cock harden against the cleft of my ass. I'd hoped to be pushed on my stomach and feel his thickness force it's way through my puss lips (though he prefers "cunt" to "puss"). But no...I was solo in a bed of utter comfort with those crisp white linens I prefer. I porned a bit and used a toy. Not satisfying. Sigh. But I enjoyed his presence in more public ways. And he's kind in unexpected ways. But I see a restlessness in him. And IDK how he keeps going with the responsibilities he has taken on. And I feel for him in a job he seems equally capable and bored with. There's a lot of joy to him that responds instantly to a spark.
But it's business first today. And figure out some things that don't quite make sense. It's good to be back to Mayberry. As we drove closer last night and the air began to smell of salt and the green privet hedges along the roadside, I began to feel like Dorothy's "there's no place like home." With eager cats to great us and the crew to unload, we made short work of it all. It's neater and cleaner than I'd remembered. And when you aren't afraid to toss, it's going to get even moreso. I enjoyed it so much I didn't want/couldn't sleep last night. But that could've been desire for beautiful male flesh clamoring once I got my privacy again.
Enjoy yours too, home sw home.
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I've returned home to find an issue to solve. But in view of what I've done the past few months, it seems no biggie. Just another agency to deal with. But I'll be dealing with them for some time so best learn that system too.
Is it greedily to admit I want some serious attention? And yes, I mean sexual attention. I want to be tied up and made to take endless o's and penetration with fingers, tongue, cock, or whatever other creative thing he can come up with. And yes, I would love to abdicate control for the weekend. A vaca from my vaca. And my first solo weekend truly divorced. It seems I should indulge. Celebrate. Let my free spirit take me where it will.
But I'm still a lady with that inconvenient moral compass and I can only think of one man I trust enough to tie me at present. But he'd prefer me to tie him.
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Reading back over my journal entries since my FINI moment, there's positive trend. Of course it's not so hard to be positive when you're away, outside of the daily grind, surrounded by beauty and your favorite people. Still, I LIVE with my favorite people and we all know too well how to put in the time and effort over a sustained but limited period to get to where we need. That will be a focus the next weeks as we hard edit our lives and lighten the sheer amount of STUFF in our lives. I grow more and more enthusiastic at our cottage on the estuary. Locals tell me not to worry so much about my flood concerns post-Sandy as other than that 100 year storm when a dam failed upstream, it's not flooded in past memory. I'm one who prepares for most eventualities. It's a useful trait to focus one's more OCD tendencies. The secret is to be able to let go when you realize you still can't be ready for EVERYTHING. Apologies for the all caps, italicizations doesn't work via iPad.
I think my efforts at researching endlessly and trying to be prepared for whatever comes are the last vestiges of my efforts at control. I'm a natural at it. But control doesn't really serve me well at this point in my life. People do. Relationships do. Humor sure does. And letting others live however they choose to and leaving judgement behind. I appreciate free spirits. I seek to be more so. But as much as I'm an adventure seeker, I start from a base of earthy practicality. It hasn't always been so, but I remain the one my children count on and may fill that role for some time. They're grounded. And capable. And I understand the cliche of love more than life itself.
I invited TBH to join us for dinner last night. He was kind and his usual funny self. My youngest son who can be a bit of beast on occasion, introduced himself with a name other than his own. And TBH played it well all night, as did I, great fun and good spirits. My girl ordered in Spanish. And my giant son adored everything he tried from his tapas, to mine, to his bros. Love them all. And TBH's words and recognition of their respectfulness, uniqueness, and specialness meant a lot to me. Those are the words that will stay with me. And I'm grateful. All in an effort to live a life that expands rather than narrows. But it's work to keep taking those steps outside my comfort zone. But I'm not stopping.
I bought a toe ring. Now to some people that's normal. To me a great departure. It's a woven sterling band I hardly notice. But I wear to remind me that there are other ways of living. And the fabric of my life is strong but I'm reweaving it with some new threads. Colorful. Fun. Interesting. And open. So let what come, come. I'm ready. And I'm not afraid to work my ass off.
I watched my younger two at breakfast today. Help each other. Wait patiently in a long line. Stick together in a crowd. Bring each other what they needed. And work together beautifully. It was a bit of mass chaos on a 4th of July holiday when everyone is traveling. But we know how to stick together in the midst of chaos and find our own order.
I'm looking forward to returning home. We went from peaceful out of the way little town on the water to a historic city chock full of holiday go'ers and children and wait times. I love this town but have always been amazed at the sheer volume of cars on the road. I live in a town in the middle of both. My Mayberry. Plenty of people. Blue collar roots turned white collar town but still with families who have a long history there. I'm a transplant like many though my children have a long established family history. It's more gentil here, south of the Mason Dixon line and I'm a lady who appreciates such things. But Jersey will be good to come home to. Lesser crowds (at least during the week at the shore), more services, great summer produce and more than a few folks who care about me. But for today...just one more adventure...
Pen
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I've spent the past days on a rather stellar boat. There is something to be said for being in a private location few have experienced. It's an alternate lifestyle and a brand new experience for us all. The first few days I found endless spiritual parallels to why life led me here. And truly it was extraordinary in ways I am still processing. You need to live green and although I do in token ways; I realize just how wasteful in some ways we are. But I have also been surrounded by extraordinary beauty and peace at a time when I needed both. And I've managed to create lovely meals on what amounts to a camp stove. I realize in that too, I can simplify. We are south of the Mason Dixon line in a lovely town. One of my children told me "it's like the whole town is downsized." The roads are narrow, the houses even on million dollar properties are small, and the services available are fewer. But people walk to the ice cream store dockside with their dogs...and there are endless dogs, including the one on our dock who visits. And folks say hello and are just nice. I was always the "nice girl." It's a pleasure being on the other end of that. Perhaps I should put out a "seeking nice" ad. The whole town is a few sizes bigger than mine at home in miles, but with a quarter of the people. And folks take time to talk to you. They have time. IDK what anyone does here to make a living, but for attitude and charm, they win hands down.
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The culling process isn't done yet. I drive by the little place that will become our home in a few months a few times a day. Intentionally. Having only a vague idea of what will fit there. I have far too many possessions. Far too many books, which I haven't had time to read in years so the majority of the library will go. Words have always been my crutch but I find I don't need to escape into fictional worlds. This one has more than enough wonder for me at present. It's a shift for a girl who lived mostly in her mind to have become so physical. And I expect I will become more so. I volunteered to run one of those muddy crazy races a friend who is trying to lose weight wants for her motivation. It's always been an interesting thought. We'll see if she gets there. If she does looks like I better start taking baby steps myself. Many hopeful people out there. It's just...okay, I don't want to rain on anyone's parade, but you need a plan and you need to work your ass off to get where you want. Most don't seem to do the in depth work needed to get there. I have. It takes me forever it seems to get there, and it's always damn complicated, but I have always met my goals in the end. The original tortoise of the tortoise and the hare. Just call me slowpoke. Actually a slow poke would be about heaven right now.
I feel lighter. It was a heavy load to feel pressed on my brain and heart just a few days ago. But I think I've done the hardest of it. Work still ahead in plenty. But yeah, it's okay. I'm okay. There's so much space where before I was constrained. I've been living carefully, under the radar, having quiet relationships carefully compartmentalized. Trying to plan for every eventuality. I don't want to go TOO pollyanna'ish yet, but I'm hoping it really works. But I've had agreements signed in the past that have barely been enforced. I'm told it's different now. We will see.
But in truth, for all the eventualities I've negotiated and possibilities seen, I don't know what's ahead. But it's gonna be better than the struggle past. New struggles for sure. But ease too. Interestingly enough, this came just prior to a long awaited vaca for us all. So I'm off to load up and head off the beaten track to create some beautiful memories with my loves. I'm still not ready to buy that red red dress and party. I've learned the way to move past is to let myself FEEL every uncomfortable emotion I feel. I'm happy it's past. But I do mourn and that's okay too. Hugs y'all.
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So they say you shouldn't use sex as a bandaid. Well darlings, bandaid or not, I'm all about feeling good without causing others pain (well unless they BEG for it). I'll admit old old wounds bled a little the past few days. Just a little tear. Divorce rips your life apart, but I was well on my way to creating a new reality from those shreds of what is past. There IS less worry. Let "what if" as it's all defined neatly in a document i tucked away with the other papers one is supposed to hang on to. I did cull more dead wood today and removed his name as beneficiary of my IRA. So yeah, it felt good. So now I LIVE. And fucking needs to be a big part of what I feel. It makes me happy. And my partner too.
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Today IS better. And tomorrow will be moreso. Thank y'all for your words. There were times when I felt very alone in this world. I know better. But we feel what we feel. Every well wish, kind word of advice, support, and kindness you've shown me got me through. And I am grateful.
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And so it's done. Fini. I spent much of the day feeling like I was living through my greatest failure. And as much as this needed to happen, I am saddened. Deeply saddened. I didn't expect quite such an emotional hit. One friend tells me there is still a bond and that is why I am affected. I don' t think I'm in denial when I say that's not it at all. I don't miss my ex. I don't miss sharing things with him. And I certainly don't miss sharing a bed, house, or table with him.
I do, however, think I will miss being Mrs., though it's still acceptable to use the title I'm told. Checking the "divorced" box over the "married" on endless forms seems far too personal for all and sundry to know. "Single" blows away "divorced" to my way of thinking. But it's rarely an option. Maybe I'll just leave it blank in the future.
What I miss, what I mourn, is the me I was before it all fell apart. Yes, I'm more interesting now. Yes, I'm smarter now. Yes, I have more and better friends now. And yes, I have orgasms now. But there's what other's refer to as "baggage." As positive and forward-thinking and I try to be, there are changes in me common to other women who have been through similar. Perhaps men too, but it's not exactly date night conversation.
I stopped at a friend's tonight. She has never been married. But has children and had been through an acrimonious breakup and knows the courts better than she wishes. We talked about how much more work it is to trust. And she mentioned how much more reactive she is now. In the past she would just take it, but post breakup she is ready to fight over being submissive. I'm not one who seeks confrontation myself. But I do know feeling disrespected will set my back up fast and furious. I'm instantly ready for a fight in those cases. But the only one who really can get me to react is an adolescent boy at present.
There's an element of relief to this too. I'm supposed to be on the other side of it now. But it sure doesn't feel like I'm anywhere. But I suppose it's that this is simply a place I've never been before. And a role I've not had. I really did want to tell my ex what I really think of him. I tell everyone oh, yes, a marriage takes two and certainly I had a role in it not working out. But honestly, I tried. OMG I tried. I truly did exhaust every option before divorcing. My friend today told me "Stop. This is not your failure. This is his." But blame never helps anyone. Still it was comforting to have someone on my team.
I know no one needs or wants to hear about how much my now over marriage sucked. But I need to put the words here. And spill the emotion. I've mourned today. I've also taken care of some serious business and there is the decided possibility that truly great things are ahead. I just need a little handholding and a lot of listening right now. And maybe someone to take care of me for just a little bit. CW was kind enough to offer me support. And my 85 yr old friend called to see if it was over and I'd picked out my red dress. I've been talking of wearing a red dress and having a party. Hell, maybe I'll just buy the red dress and make my own party even if I don't feel like it much right now.
There's one thing nice about divorce you know? The orders are enforceable. Unlike my experience before. I'm sorry gentlemen, but the thought of my ex in the county jail if he continues the way he has, is an image that pleases me. Terrible vindictive beyotch maybe. But for a patrician to be compelled to sleep with the plebes...well the man could use being taken down a notch or two. Yes, I should be better than all this. Kinder. And nice little old me. But today I want to just say fuck it.
Exhausted, but free,
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There was a time I believed in fairy tales. In goodness triumphing. Evil getting their just desserts. And happily ever after. I know better now. And that loss of innocence saddens me. But life isn't always fair. I still do my best to behave in ways that I can live with since the golden rule has long been my mantra. And sometimes you make lovely connections with others who live the same way by doing the right thing. I still half believe in karma.
So then end of my imagined fairy tale marriage is here. The legal end. Though of course it was no fairly tale and I was lonelier married than I am solo. But it started out right. A long courtship, as I was a careful one and never planned to marry. It took some persuading. And truly I was a princess (more the Cinderella type coming from ashes) marrying her handsome prince. And forever he was the nice guy and I was...well...the woman who held him back, the shrew. IDK if I was. But that was how he portrayed me. But he has replaced that role with other women who are portrayed in the same light since. He's a man who needs to blame another for his lack of time, lack of financial security, and inability to do what the rest of us manage to...from paying our taxes to spending as much time as we can with our kids to simply doing laundry.
Now of course you're only getting one side of the story. I was pretty. Socially a bit awkward. Certainly shy. Terrified of all the political and social requirements on me. And I rebelled. I fought every commitment and he went solo more often than not. I buried myself in a long commute, got myself a cat, work, books, and learning how to chef. I'd try on occasion to bridge the gap. Moved closer to his work so he could pop by more often, said yes more to archaic men's club events where wives gave young me the evil eye as old men leered, took stellar care of his family, and embraced his family's traditions to the exclusion of forming my own. I didn't cheat. But I wanted to.
I could never figure out why he married me. I wasn't funny the way I am now. Sure I was pretty and skinny and made more money than he did. And despite my upbringing, I was told I brought class into his family. Proper. Perfect house. Amazing meals. Planned trips. Found sources for inspiration for his work. Threw parties that people still talk about. Thank you cards and proper etiquette at all times. But I never got the sense he even liked me after awhile. I truly think he needed a scapegoat. And there I was.
We used to joke that he didn't have time for one woman, let alone two so he would never cheat on me. But of course he did. With a secretary he installed a few houses down the street from our home and became his mistress. It pisses me off more that he made me a cliche than the actually cheating anymore. It pisses me off more the times I had her in my home, holding my babies, and thanked her everytime I spoke with her for how much she helped my husband. Oh, she was "helping" him alright.
I've mentioned I live in Mayberry. I was humiliated. I did reach out to his parents. And it became public knowledge even though they recommended I keep it very quiet. But I was devastated. And I knew public perception mattered more to my husband than anything. So I let it out. Folks began to realize I perhaps wasn't the shrew I was portrayed as. I kept my head down, didn't talk about it, and took care of my very young children. Though I don't know how I made it past the first year.
I hired an attorney. Secured joint funds. Found out my rights. And asked him to never come back. I kept the children from him for a week, trying to find my way through. Not proud of that. But they were babies. And I was truly one fucked up youngish woman. I did get the full story from him. I did fire the secretary's ass though I had no authority. And yes, she moved out of state with her daughter after suing my ex for sexual harassment. That's karma.
But one exhausts all options when you have children before you end a marriage. I truly did just that. Gave him unlimitted access to the children. Therapy & yoga to heal myself. Though I don't know that my heart will ever be the same. Settled up the business of family...the financials, the scheduling, and so on. But I withdrew socially from all but a few very good friends who essentially moved in with me to get me through those first weeks. It took me 3 years before I could admit I was separated to most others. I would find myself in the corner window of the kitchen just looking out into the back yard while life went on around me, with tears pouring down my face. It took me 6 months of going it alone before I could tell my disbelieving family. My grandmother was so sad. I didn't want to spread the pervasive sadness I lived in. But I did. Then she got mad. And that did me good. I still remember her asking if he'd show up at her door. She swore she'd punch him in the nose. And she would've. He never has seen one member of my family again since the initial separation. Though I deal with his often and I try very hard to be kind. Even though I am not their family anymore, my children are.
So y'all are wondering what is all this for? It's my own funeral dirge for my marriage. My one and only. And the fairy tale that didn't end happily ever after. And the years of pain and living in an odd world of purgatory, a long long separation when all my relationships were necessarily limitted. I gave my ex chances to repair this before getting here. I fixed his finances. I offered marriage counseling of his choice. But he chose to say "yes' as he does and deliver on nothing as he does. So enough. It's done. And my children and I are better for it. It's still right and proper and necessary for me to say goodbye. There's freedom ahead in ways I haven't has a shot at til now. But I still mourn the young hopeful woman I was and how something that had such potential turned into so very much pain.
My sympathies to others in the same mess. Just know. There is a time when it ends but it's up to you to not live in the past. And certainly don't let someone who no longer has a place in your heart have the power to upset you.
Pen
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I try very hard to stay off facebook. But sleepless nights do me in. I don't maintain a presence there myself as this past decade I thought best to keep a low profile until resolution with the ex. Of course it's easy to seem to have a perfect life with smiling couples pics, justifiably bragging about your children, and pointing all the fabulous adventures you are having. Mine seems even more imperfect in comparison. Though I know better to compare.
I admire long relationships. I don't know how y'all do it, but I respect that.
In truth I've done some hard work. I don't want to work this hard. But it was necessary for the children whose pic I carried with me to remind me what it was for and the example I would set if I quit. I haven't always been this way. And there have been times I've quit in the past. The semester in college I just gave up and went home. The time I came home to find my in laws living in my home without notice and just left. And times I couldn't get out of bed and would pull the covers over my head and simply not leave my bed. Children changed me. Love changed me. And knowing if I didn't step up to the plate no one else would.
I was afraid as an adult to drive the parkway, the city, the roundabouts that used to be ubiquitous in NJ. I'll roadtrip through traffic from hell anywhere the moment I'm free now. I used to plan parties and meals and work weeks on a particular dinner to impress my ex's family and our friends. But sharing an impromptu plate or simply pouring a friend a mug of tea is progress to me. Though I'll admit I miss dinner parties. I was a squirrel, tucking away 2 extra of everything, trying to plan for future eventualities and to never run out of anything. It still comes natural to me in the kitchen when I never know when those old creative juices will start flowing again to be ready for anything.
But I've found this intense forward thinking when planning a settlement drives me mad and hurts my head. I will be glad to see the end of men in suits. And I should be grateful there is a settlement to be made. My great great fear was to end up as a single parent. I had a few of those sorts of fears. Most of 'em came true. But the thing is once you face them, they aren't a fear anymore. It's just sh#* you came though to the other end of. And quite frankly, there a perks to single parenting you just don't have as a couple. Like time off. And parenting your way. And a meal that isn't necessarily constructed with starch/vege/meat without complaints. And not having to go anywhere you don't wish on holidays. Of course there is a bout or two of loneliness. And those tired days you'd give a kidney for a helping hand. And the narrowing of acquaintances. But by and large the pluses have it.
Still I need my friends now more than ever. This has been such a long process. It used to embarrass me. But now I see it as an achievement...how long I kept my children's lives stable in the only home they've known in the same decent school. And it was not without great pain to me. In the past I would've left and found a new place to live. It still has an appeal. Find a new little town and start fresh. But this is a beautiful place and I will continue to together forge a beautiful life here. Change though is scary as hell. And I am still overwhelmed. Legalese muddles my mind. And I revisit issues I should let go that still don't seem fair or sensible to me. I want everything in order, specified, enforceable, so I can get my own house in order and NEVER have to do anything close to this again. But of course life is not all that predictable.
Today its just freeing my mind of words and thoughts that keep banging against the inside of my skull. I have more negotiations tomorrow and dread. I still say I want to buy a new red dress and have a party when this is over, but quite frankly it's not something to celebrate. It's the death knell of a marriage that was over long ago. And the loss of the innocent exuberance I pollyanna'ed though life with. But I've gained empathy, humor, and orgasms so I'm not leaving empty handed. I could use some serious orgasms about now. Stress relief. But I'll head on downstairs and call attorneys instead and skip breakfast since my tummy is in knots.
Hugs would be appreciated. I need them.
Thanks y'all.
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My home is full again with the children back. Always good evenings with all of them on the sectional and movie night treats since blessedly, school is OUT for all at last. I love when our schedule is not at the mercy of others. Though there are still those endless appointments one schedules for regular maintenance, ie doctors and dentists and the like. Soon we will have what promises to be a glorious adventure
I did have surprisingly fun date with a man I would've found completely unsuitable in the past. All this interaction with my ex has me rebelling like a child when I can. I've never been a girl who found musicians sexy. I always liked the geeky, attractive guys who never know how attractive they really are. And the perception of "goodness" or even more an "honorable" guy would just steal my heart. But damn if I don't want to explore now in ways I didn't in my far from misspent youth now with music men. I suppose most women would find an aging musician not appealing. Mind you, the few I have met with day jobs have a sense of fun that too many of us lose. And fun is something I need to have before I buckle down to some serious a@@ work in the months ahead. I know, NJ is rife with singer/songwriters, but someone who can work a real job and look to his retirement AND write original material/sing/strum has that dicotomy I find so hot. I think it's that there's a certain component of the population who doesn't judge others by where they live, the house they live in, the car they drive, or the fancy handbags they carry. I'm not always one of them, as much as I try to be. But I'm trying to get there. And I have an appreciation for folks who just let others be without the remotest thought of judgement. But a date is just a date. I'm just grateful I learned something from the music man.
It's still just being each other's toy and not that relationship I semi seek, but I wouldn't mind being a toy alternate weekends. So much stress. And no more circus to run away to. If I think too hard I'll worry til it feels like my head will explode since I can and always have had the ability to see all sides/all risk factors and every damn thing that can possibly go wrong. I'm pretty good at fixing things. But it's time life got a whole lot easier.
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Expand and enhance each other's lives...this is what I seek in all my relationships. It's how I go about raising my crew of adventure-seekers. It's how the best of my friendships play out. It's what I try to do in the lives I touch. And (lightbulb moment!) it's precisely what I seek in a man I just might want to keep more than a few months. Because y'all know we start dating...women start to want to know what it is, where it's going, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera ad nauseum...Sometimes I want to know that, but mostly I just want to be present fully in every moment. Now I'm naturally very affectionate. So often I find myself wondering if I grasped a hand, or initiated a kiss or just burst forth with a compliment about how amazing I think someone is...well those are the times I wish for more definition so I can just be instead of worrying about appropriateness.
Y'all think I'm talking about sex when I talk about expanding each other's lives. Sure, exploratory sex is to be encouraged. But I'm neither advocating for or against monogamy. I do know nonmonogamy is not the same as cheating. Some avoid that monogamy talk. Others consensually swing. I haven't quite figured out what works for me there. Essentially I am possessive. If I want him that much, I sure don't want to share him. But then I equally don't want to limit another. So it's a conundrum.
There's an essential honesty true grown ups bring to a relationship. Now that is what I seek. But I'd been looking back to my relationships with both CW and BC and seeing what went wrong it that there wasn't that expansion. And darlin's, I think you don't have to limit each other. I think you can share knowledge, provoke each other, be open to the moment and unexpected opportunities and still have time for the basics we all have to do like work, caring for our homes, laundry, chores, shopping, and all that. I think we have to push past exhastion to do it sometimes but effort is usually a good thing.
I would've really liked to fuck tonight. I'm not going to though there've been offers. Hell I got asked out this week. I appreciate the courage it takes to do that. And even though I'm a woman of a certain age and not the pretty thing I was in my youth, my ass and brain seem to have enough appeal. And I'm grateful. But can I just say it? Dating sucks esp first ones. Like a job interview or a judge assessing what you might possibly look like naked. And I know you men feel the same. I like resting in the familiar. Being a regular in a local restaurant where they ask after my children, the grocery store where other town residents congratulate my daughter on a recent achievement, the horns tooting when I'm working on the dooryard garden, the "hey, can you pick up ..." of courses, a bag of pass-me-downs waiting at the door for one of the kiddos, and all the kids who recognize my car and give a wave as they bike by. This IS Mayberry. Of course it can also be exclusionary to those of us who don't fit the mold and gossipy as hell. But I'm here for a bit and I'm pretty sure good things are ahead.
The great thing that is missing is my rock. Yes, it was my gran and she's gone. I function as a great many folks' rock. That whole "I've got your back." But there aren't too many who have mine. And that is an integral part of the relationship I want with a guy. Ahead for me are the changes of aging, as much as we all try to delay them. I have little doubt my children will help me as much as I'd prefer they'd go off and not have to worry about such things. But a true partnership involves getting each other through and seeing the other off if it comes to that. Eventually that is what I want.
There's a way to combine expansiveness with care and kindness I think that can create something truly wonderful. I'm going to keep looking and keep trying til it manifests in my life. It's long past time.
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It's good to open windows and turn on fans tonight though it's probably too moist after the storm earlier. But it's blessedly fresh air. I feel as if I can't breathe in sealed buildings after too long. I pop outside when I can to clear my lungs and nourish my brain. I flirted with the idea of being a park ranger for at time for all the beauty and fresh air. My love rain seemed a useful quirk. And I'm a damn good shot. But I wanted stuff. And now all I seek is to edit and reduce the stuff and increase the good people and shared experiences in my life.
Oh I'll get there. But this has hurt. Today I went from legal bs to a candle sale (therapeutic and disposable in the end). I was fried. Truly fried. I even tried on a simply gorgeous red dress I want to have a party in when this is all done. But I left it behind. Funny how I claim to not want stuff and go shopping. Even though I know better, getting divorced fucks with your ego. So I wanted to feel pretty. And I wanted to be bold instead of my utterly unremarkable navy interview/court clothes. I may burn the navy in my wardrobe when this is done. If only it didn't make me look like I know more than I do...but then I've always managed to look a part even I didn't feel it inside. I still want to feel pretty. More than pretty. Desirable. Amazing. Brilliant. I did come home and read my bday card from a few months ago from the children. "Wonderful, amazing, brilliant" they called me. I'll take it and be grateful.
I had a very large mojito at lunch today. Not usual for me. But I needed to just calm my mood. I've moved past stressed to simply done. I am the most patient of women. But there's a point where I cease to negotiate. A boundary or two, once crossed and I'm done with that person. Usually it's takes a level of toxicity to the relationship to get me there, though I never enter or think of staying with someone who is not a healthy choice for me. But you know, sometimes you lose perspective and can't see that.
I could use a hug. I could use a little taking care of. My eldest brought me an enormous cold cold mineral water this afternoon when I collapsed into the big chair in my bedroom and tried to work some numbers. My girl draped herself over my lap, knowing she doesn't fit any more, tucked her curls onto my shoulder and chatted away while she held on. Even my youngest beast didn't argue when I asked him to help with a job. Thank heavens I didn't have to go home to solo space with my head this full.
It's not even as stressful. It's just stuff I have to do now. And I'm really really tired of having to jump through hoops for anyone else. I feel like there's a fire simmering now inside. It's warmer and fiercer than my previous bereft sensation. But oh, I want to bite someone.
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One of my favorite subjects is men. I adore y'all. Angles instead of curves. That raspy overnight beard in the morning. A deep voice at my ear, sending shivers down my spine And the way you are all natural pack animals in your youth and often as you age. Men are very comfortable with men, shooting the breeze and sharing some drinks. Women, well, it takes us longer to lose that sense of competition with each other (usually for men). Once we are past all that we are much much nicer.
I've noticed a preponderance of lonely older men. They have their pursuits. Opening up though, in ways that deepen connection isn't a skill many possess. They can be tremendous fun. Of course I'm a woman who appreciates a guy with a sense of adventure at any age. I think back to CW & BC. It's a beautiful sensation when a woman knows she is wanted. Both are fine men I care about. I wish we could've gone deeper. But they shared more than most and for that I'm appreciative. With my ex (who some of those on my team here called "dickhead" HA!), I don't think I ever knew what he felt about anything other than his work. Including me. I still don't know why he married me. Though I've figured out why I married him. I doubt I will ever know his internal landscape.
Now I know women are relational creatures and y'all think it's easier for us. It isn't. Really. We end up with confidence issues far too often, even the most capable of women. We know how we feel, likely a bit more than most men do. We get the why, how, and know the relationship of our emotion to our histories. You'd probably call that "baggage." Sharing, though, is damn scary. We do it as a matter of course as that's how we roll. But darlings, our insides are jelly afterwards. So often that's the tipping point for a male. He knows too much of a woman and she becomes less interesting to him. You, darling men, prefer Mata Hari, a woman of mystery. But we're still Women with a capital W, so we will always be ...but men? You expand and enhance our lives in ways we can't. Kudos to y'all.
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Happy, hopeful and determined to experience the best out of life are 3 of my goals. And truly, I am happy even through the stress. And even recognizing I occasionally miss that MORE I am still defining that I want. I DO get the best out of life whatever I am dealt. That has always been part of my core and is not going to change. Now hope is a struggle. Hope implies an idealism I left behind long ago. I tend to make the best of what IS. But I just might have to study hope more to determine what it means to me. I need to get back to fun. And yeah some serious fucking. Maybe even some kink. I'm no a girl to live in her head or even in her heart. I want to feel. I want to feel the hardness of a delicious thick cock inside my puss and mouth. And yes, I still have that DP fantasy I'm not sure I'll get to indulge. But I need lightness and friendships and spending time with like minded folks. I have a long awaited adventure coming up for my family and I. We've all let our fears and losses and change get in the way of that essential state of joy we all live in. That I'm going to change. And fast. BTW, wow all. Thanks for reaching out. I am holding together but we all need to know we aren't alone. Pen |
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I read back over my journal entries a few pages. Heavens, it's all about how TOUGH everything is. Why y'all keep reading is beyond me. Yes, it is a decidedly complex time but I planned it to happen when other commitments that took head & heart were less. I thought that would make it somehow easier. It doesn't. And here I am still complaining. Ugh, I can't bear complainers.
As difficult as said ex is making things, I still took my children out to plan for Father's Day yesterday. I don't know why. He certainly doesn't grant me the same courtesy. And I woke them early so they can get things ready for him. Does he deserve it? Well, from my perspective, no. But I am invariably proper. Sigh. Quite frankly I am my children's role model. And sometimes you have to rise about what is and do what's right, personal inclinations be damned. I'd prefer a fish in his tailpipe or dog doo on his running boards. I only SAID it! I wouldn't do it. (Well I don't THINK I would...). But the man stinks. It would be something if everyone else could smell it....
I am AWFUL sometimes. Fortunately it's in thought versus deed the majority of the time. If I looked at the past weeks in retrospect I'd probably be a rockstar in the sheer volume of what I've gotten done. But there's so much more and the hardest of it all I have yet to achieve. It's hard to make agreements with someone who doesn't hold to his side. There is no goodwill. And a man like that makes you want to tell him to go fuck himself.
But I'm going to to feed my children, make nice, and do some really tough review today. I'd rather be at the beach or fucking but needs must.
Those of you who are Fathers, the best of you make us feel safe and protected as our bulwark against anything coming our way. That is a gift. You deserve to be celebrated. Enjoy knowing how much you are loved by yours.
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I planned for loss today. I'm editing my life and commitments. Today was one that I knew would hurt both my family and I. It was hard. Tears. Friday night I held my daughter in my arms for a few hours in the big chair in my bedroom as she wept and railed when expectation and reality didn't quite meet up. She had a loss that is all she's been looking forward to for a long time. Today I watched my eldest son weep on the couch as I rubbed his back and he told me "I just need a minute." We all knew today was necessary. But that didn't make it any less hard. But we did what we do. Stuck together, tried to do other productive activities to get out of that mind space, eat well, and soon get enough sleep. The basics to recovery from loss. There will be more ahead for us. I used today as an immunization of sorts to start preparing us for more. It's necessary to get to the other side of this. But we will. And then I believe it will be better.
I'm ill. It always seems to happen the end of June when stressors catch up to me. I've spent the past weeks with all my medical providers so there are few surprises (and just in case my medical insurance status changes faster than I expect). A minor infection. Antibiotics. And sure enough something else takes hold. This time dental. Add minor repairs I can't repair. And the bad news my children struggled with. And I still feel like a magnet for bullshit. I don't complain anywhere but here. But I'm pretty tired. Less overwhelmed than before but nothing I'm dealing with at present is remotely easy. I could use some easy.
It's an Irish town here. And this weekend of fog and rain has most imbibing. The Irish aren't as a rule the most affectionate bunch. But get some juice in them and heavens, I've been hugged dozens of times today. It helps. It really does.
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Well most of my more public commitments and those with my ex should be ceasing for a bit, and hopefully my maudlin wishes for someone to share family events. Usually I feel little of the sort, enjoying my time with my children and not particularly wanting to share that time. Sounds like a girl? I want, but I don't' want. We are changeable creatures. At core I'm the same though. I just see so many old old folks who don't get touched on regular basis, who have no one to share their stories with, and no one to hold their hand when things get touch and go. I don't want that burden to be on my children. But rather an equal reciprocal partner. Who gets how damn fast life can change and how we need to just be open to the joy right this minute.
I'm not begging for him. Or hell, maybe a woman is for me. Time will tell. But I do know I'll meet him or her. But then I'm fortunate to also see those couples who are completely there for each other. A lot of them are 2nd marriages of folks who figured out what didn't work the first time and work on it now. I admire those folks, though I'm unlikely to formalize a relationship myself. Still it would be rather lovely to have a beau who is also a friend. I rather like the sex part too.
A lot of things went screwy today. I'm a magnet for such. But I did step outside of my own bullshit and made time to help someone else. My old friend a few towns over, cane and all. And he helped me though he tries not to pry. But he's a few decades older than I and wiser in many ways. I told him it's not prying; it's help. And quite frankly I can use it right now. There is one thing I know I have skill with. Helping others through. I can get a whole range of folks through tough stuff to the other side. And I'm sure I'll manage as well as I must. But I need a person like that to walk me through now and then. Damn it's becoming a refrain of sorts.
My family is truly wonderful. And they and I will do it together. More often the one thing that gets me out of my own head is helping someone else. That needs to be what I do. Find positive and give positive. I've been a damn grump lately myself. It needs to change.
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A family milestone of sorts this eve. And by & large lovely. But it was one of those things I attend with my ex. And then I take my children out post for a bite. But I am of course the only unattached woman in most places with them. And tonight I envied those two parent families with their children. The joy is what I miss sharing. Though sure, having a partner to vent with would do my soul good as well. I just wanted to exchange a look of understanding with that guy, whoever he might be, and have him sit next to me with the edges of our hands touching. Grinning and applauding. And holding onto a strong arm as I picked my way down the bleachers in heels. Gallantry directed at me. Now my son is blessedly gallant. But it's at these kind of things I feel my singledom most. Generally I find it a positive thing. But yeah, there are so many wonderful things I'd like to share.
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Generally I'm a fairly confident chick. Or at least too busy to worry about it. Or something happens and I respond in a way that shows me I know more than I give myself credit for. It's sort of a confidence reset. I need one now. Socially I do okay. But sometimes, especially in a place as cliquey as my neighborhood, I feel the odd woman out. Part of it is that I am alone in a town of intact families. And I've been cautious to keep it that way at any events to do with the children. I did bring CW last year to a picnic and it was such a relief for me. I appreciate the social aspects of coupledom. Miss them even. Quite frankly it would've been nice to attend tonight with someone who shared my pride in my children. Someone to be my team. And yeah, I would've liked to have started the gossips a'whispering. But more so I really wish I could just curl up onto a guy who had my back. Rest my head on his shoulder, Sink into him. And feel just plain good again.
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I simply adore women over 50. Blessedly, I'm one of them. We are remarkably supportive of each other. It is a sisterhood for those of us who let go. I've struck up countless conversations. Compliments to my fellow sistas just pop out...Gran's "if you can't say anything good, don't say anything at all" mantra taking a new direction.
I was privileged to overhear a friend/lover/I-don't-quite-know-how-to-describe guy apologize to his elderly mother. She had called to apologize to him for their mutual insistence. So much grace and love and simple sweetness to each other...I hope I am as fortunate in my children.
I'm sitting in my fav cafe with a pot of rooibos listening to a semi retired man pontificate, wishing his voice were quieter. There are many folks who talk always starting a sentence with "I" "I" "I".....they want to be the TV in any room, the object of everyone's gaze. Then there are others who simply are without trying to impress. Oh, heavens, they are giving a lesson on French words now and how "toile" and "toilet" came to be...please save me now. And on to "quasi-ornamental"....and identifying folks by their professions over WHO they are...Rant completed.
Last night I was tired, a little blue, and alone. I've lost my usual comfort level with my own company as I seek connection so much more now. Everything is changing. So I need my touchstones to keep me anchored to firm ground. A little illusion of security or a friend holding my hand go a long way to keeping me at least feeling like it's all manageable. It is. I know that. And I've planned or managed to manipulate the scheduling well. I need to keep up the feeling of accomplishment and come up with a real plan to keep momentum.
Did I mention, I of all people, am thinking about getting a tattoo? FREEDOM as a theme and retro. Any ideas folks?
Pen
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Progressing. That'll do for now.
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A good, GOOD weekend. Just enough time away from my children to make them miss me. Making a few folks I laugh. Time spent with that delightful man who thinks I only like him for his brain and big cock. Now said brain & cock are lovely indeed, but he seems to have a desire to live in ways that make both his world and that of others better. Many of us are so busy trying to stay on our path that we don't look up enough to help others along theirs. I value that.
Sometimes just making an effort to show up and be present has the most unexpected rewards. Good GOOD company. Walks long enough to leave your body craving horizontal time. Skee ball & miniature golf with a smart a@@. Live music and a bonfire on the beach. Full moon. Food, conversation, friendly folks. Hot rods racing on the beach. Saltwater and a rest on the beach. Kisses. The above-mentioned big cock...
My mind and heart needed ease. There's more. But I don't want to think too hard at present. That will come later.
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The beach. Though callling my room an ocean view room is a stretch. Mojitos with mint from my messy garden. Full moon I drove towards all the way down. I'm hungry. I don't know if it's for food or lips or cock. Likely all of the above. TBH should be walking in the door any minute. I figured it for a metal weekend. Cuffs, real police issue ones, my fav stainless steel sculpture of toy, vampire fur mitt. And IDK what else I tossed in that bag other than plenty of coconut oil. Oh! Honey dust. I think I heard of it on an old episode of NCIS. Edible dusting powder with a feather applicator. I'm thinking that and cuffs could be just plain evil enough to make me grin the way I haven't done much this week.
I have faith. Wobbly faith. But still faith in me & mine. We will be fine as long as we stick together. Enjoy this gorgeous weather.
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I need to stop thinking. Fucking would do the trick. To just feel. And feel good at that. And get out of my own head.
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I wish I had my grandmother today. I'd sit on the carpet next to her lazyboy chair and lay my head on her lap. She'd stroke my hair and the most offensive pissed off comments about my ex and what she wants to do to him would come from her 90-something-yr-old mouth. It would warm me inside at how fierce she is in defense of me and how irrepressible she is. I'd cry and soak her knees with my tears. Then I'd apologize and try to soak them up with tissues and we'd end up laughing.. She'd offer to make me a cuppa tea in the kitchen and offer me her hand to rise. But then she'd laugh and tell me I'd better get up myself since she's an old woman and we'd likely end up on the floor together...
I am scared. Overwhelmed. Distrustful. And feel a little bit like a cornered kitten in a big bad world. There's a phrase, Keep the wolf from the door. And that's just what I have to do. At least I can always look the part even if I don't feel it.
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Today got better. I got better. A celebration for one of my family this eve. We are changing the way we dine, particularly out, and sharing more which makes utter sense and ends up being remarkably economical. A favorite tonight. And a really good night followed by a cold jaunt on the beach. Ocean is calm and lit up with the full moon. If I can look at what's ahead as a celebration rather than something to dread, I'm going to make it just fine. It is long awaited. So fuck it. I'm going to be just fine one way or another. And I'll make sure my family is. What if's just make you crazy. Let's see how the cards fall tomorrow. I will sleep well tonight, no wine/no xanax. Just the peace that comes from gathering around a table with my children, playing 20 questions, and winning. I could use a win.
And yes, I know I owe a whole bunch of emails to those of you who have been kind and reached out. I am sorry I can't see much further than myself at present. And I love writing back. You folks are my reward when I have time to myself. So bear with me. I will respond when my frame of mind is what y'all deserve.
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There are days when your future hangs in the balance. Not many of them, thank heavens, but they do exist. And such are my days at present. I hope for resolution but it's unlikely to happen quickly as I'm one who actually reads contracts and legalese, takes notes, and asks questions. I'm a PITA essentially. But "thorough" has been used to describe me more than once these months. I like to think i"m equally "thorough" in my appreciation of a partner, particularly when it comes to more physical pursuits.
Sleep heals. And improves coping ability. And I need more than my "A" game at present. I need the best I've got. Brain is spinning. Working away. I've gone back to old school comforts to try to comfort myself (though the half a Xanax last night gave me sleep). I know Xanax can be habit forming so I am very careful. And I'm not a fan of pharmaceuticals. But I don't want alcohol or any sort of depressant. It's excess anxiety, plain and simple and of limited time duration, I hope. I went to the movies. I wore my fav jacket with my fancy new prof pins. I put more and heavy blankets on my bed so it felt like the bed I slept in when I was growing up and someone much older and wiser looked after me. I miss my Gran. She'd get all fired up and on my team.
I was a rock star this morning. I normally avoid lists. But nearly 2 dozen calls later, and a trip to a govt agency that somehow I got out in 20 minutes, I'm using the energy to do what needs to be done. And eventually will transform my reality into as much positivity, or at least certainly, as possible. But oh, I'm wound very very tight.
I don't know if I've done anything quite this hard before. But I've sure done complicated. And I've sure done what seemed impossible. This isn't impossible. This is just uncertain and I am inexperienced. I've always believed I could learn anything. And this I can learn to. It just takes levels of assertiveness that exhaust me. I'd make a really good sub right now.
Pen
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This was a day I don't know how I made it through. I was so completely without defenses that a 12 yr old made me cry. I'll get my shell back, but right now I feel raw and broken. Overwhelmed, tough to stay focused, and in pain...I still did what I must. My girl just held my hand for much of the afternoon. I even dragged myself out the the theatre to see Wonder Woman in hopes it would shore me up or just give me a break. There's a line that someone has to fight for those who can't fight for themselves. And that's my battle though I'm far from Wonder Woman. But I already know one large loss looms. And that one is worrisome and more. It is the antipathy of who I am. Perhaps it will be the final and last loss of this. I am not above taking an anti anxiety med so I can sleep tonight.
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I am trying to remain positive despite significant anxiety. It brings to mind how I used to be on my birthdays...I'd take stock of where I was and what I HADN'T achieved. Well, when you shift perspective and get rid of the negative...you look at what progress you have made and what is just GOOD in your life. So that's what I'm gonna do.
I'm in my home and it's raining hard. I don't have a ceiling in half my breakfast room, but then I've lived in a home with exposed wood studs on the ceiling and I like it. BUT there's no mold. There's no water coming in. No towels and pots and buckets like there were for a long long time...Not perfection, but certainly progress. I'll take it.
I spoke with cuck who knows the whole messy history of the coming undone of my marriage. He's good for telling me what I don't want to hear. If my primary goal isn't met, it's not like my family and I aren't going to be okay. Because I know and they do that wherever we end up, together we're a hell of team. And we'll do what we have to and figure out way through. And, blessedly, we'll end up proud of ourselves for it.
I feed my children carefully edited bits of truth. I won't lie to them. But I won't share more than they are capable of handling. And I won't diss their father. They will never know he fucked around. To them he is their fun playmate, a good cook, a talent in his field, fond of danger and risk, and never on time. But I do think he loves them. And I hope he is able to think long term for them. There is a general concensus that I do a good job as a parent. I think that's a fair assessment. My children are lovely people. Kind, able to behave in any situation, mannerly, and with infectious laughs. And they pitch in. Sure, there are times they are less than fond of each other but they will always be there for each other I think and unite to protect each other, and sometimes, me.
I have cried my way through years, tears getting less frequent with everyone. And I don't feel damaged though I think my heart is pretty patched up. But heart I have, and a lot of it. I remain glad my marriage failed. Because I would've stayed no matter how much it hurt or how unhappy I was. This is freedom. Long, hard fought, freedom to grow and live and just BE. If I ever got a tat, it would say "Freedom" with a flag in a vintage old style classic tat. But I'm rather fond of my virgin skin. I can be a purist too in some ways.
Keep those good thoughts, well wishes, and keep reaching out. This is tough. And y'all are gonna keep me sane this week.
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I need to fuck instead of think. There are offers, but I've been spoiled on my weekend escapes with TBH. So I'll probably just grin and bear it while my head feels like it's going to explode. This will be a long week.
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So yeah, my last entry is me feeling sorry for myself. I got myself into something that it's taken all I've got to get out of. Now I'm getting out a better woman than the one I was when I started so that's something to be grateful for.
It's really all about dead wood. Interestingly enough, I pruned my beautiful redbud tree this weekend. And got myself a nice shiny new tree saw to finish the job today. Raised the canopy so the bed underneath it could get some sun and the pathway you had to duck to get though is open again. Parallels what I'm doing personally too. But you gotta cut to get rid of the deadwood. And although the wound isn't as fresh in my personal life as it once was, it still cuts. And it hurts me to be part of the deconstruction of something I thought was my dream.
I woudn't go back in a second. And heaven knows as hard as the past decade has been for me, in some ways I feel like an f'ing rock star. An ageing one, but still...damn, I'm still happy and I will be happier yet. But damn it's a lot for anyone. For me, who comes from nowheresville without a lot of family resources it's a giagantic leap.
But I have the most amazing family. I went down to have a little prep for the week family meeting. Warned them I'm going to be a raving lunatic banshee....maybe...but that the stress factor this week for me will be multiplied heavily. And if I'm over the top to rein me in. We do that for each other. They rallied 'round, all of them hugging and touching me where they could. That's my home, right there. Us. Together. Tight. Holding on when one or more needs it. I know each of them has something wonderful coming this week and I told them I am not going to let my "stuff" get in the way of that. So share and let my stay in their positive places.
I could fuck. I don't particularly want to. That'll change but week's end. I could drink. Same there. Or there's still Xanax tucked away from the panic attacks I had when I first separated over a decade ago. I like the thought of them over actually taking them. Plus anything addictive other than sex I'm awfully careful about. I think I'm just going let myself feel and maybe there's a bit of grieving. Not over the marriage. But over that girl I was and all I believed of myself and of the prince of a guy I thought I married. I believed, oh, 23 years ago, that I was marrying the best, most honorable person I'd ever met. And I was wrong there. I want to believe the best of others. And I used to. Hopefully I get that faith back. Because that was the nicest thing about me I think.
But I am not ashamed of how I've lived once I figured out how to keep going. So much pleasure, and joy, and adventure. And oh yes, orgasms were lovely to discover. And I've followed instincts it took getting out of my marriage and my career choice to trust. That's the best thing I've gotten out of things falling apart. Ladies, please, trust those instincts. And guys, go with your gut. There's a reason you feel that certainty or unease.
And there's a reason I'm uneasy at present. 'Cause this is simply tough stuff. Gotta pull it together, get the tears all cried in the next few days, and just do it.
Pen
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Reality shock. Or some call it transition shock. I looked it up: "Unsettling or jarring experience resulting from wide disparity between what was expected and what the real situation turns out to be, such as the first day on a new job." I went through a good month of that April into May. And quite frankly, life is getting too real for me again. I have the most encompassing hard long term decisions to make and negotiate. Though it's definitely time; it a hell of a thing. I've spend days researching things I don't want to research, but must. Endless tax ramifications. This stuff is HARD. But y'all know I have a brain the supposedly does complicated well. The part of the doesn't do complicated well is my heart. And I'm semi scared sh**less. But I know fear really well so I'll just push through, but darlings, this HURTS.
I have spent so much of my time doing things I do not want to do. And more ahead. But best to just get it the damn over with. And find the other side. I'm going to be needing more than usual this week. And fuck if tears don't leak when I find myself alone. I'm worried. I know I'll gain and lose. But I don't know how to keep my family where I need to keep them. I made one promise. One I was sure I could keep. And I'm not so sure about that anymore. But I think everyone will agree it is the single most important sticking point. I just don't know how to make it happen.
I'd talk about sex here if I could. Heaven knows I wish I was having it right this minute. Though actually what I've been craving goes back to an earlier time for me...a strong shoulder to tuck my head onto just for a little bit. Because sometimes even I need to feel safe in the simplest of ways. I'm overreacting. I know. But there are huge unknowns ahead. And this is big stuff. I think it's all right under top life stressors there are.
I kept my children close this weekend. Took care of outstanding issues that I could. Ducks in row you know. I'm the girl who before a weekend away, gets and oil change, puts a case of water in the car with her rain boots and poncho, and has almonds & apricots in reserve. Sometimes I even remember to pack some kinky gear though that has only been since TBH.
Darlin', this girl could use a hug. Wish me well.
Pen
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So if my journal got confusing, it's 'cause I reposted a few entries I had taken off from previous days. Editing is what I do everyday of my life in some ways, and I'm not going to do so here.
I am a bit overwhelmed at what is ahead. Reconstruction in sense. Mostly of PITA things that cost money like insurances and taxes and simply creating a new reality with very little experience of such things. I've never sold a house before. I've never had so much stuff. I've certainly never done so as the one others look to for security. It's a good thing and heaven knows I need change. But change, good or bad, is a stressful process on mind, body and heart.
These are days I half want to tuck back in and pull the covers over my head. But I know my own proclivities. So I yanked off the sheets and laundered everything so there's nothing cozy to hide in. I am a woman who sometimes needs to be made to do what needs to be done, but since I'm the only one in charge I have to take myself in hand and just do it. I'm going to cry a little over this. Not because it's over. That's good. But because it's my way of reducing stress. I end up feeling so much, my eyes prick and tears come. I know in my head it's a cleansing but I'm still on edge.
I'll do what always fixes me. Hold my children close. Enjoy every hug, every touch, every ounce of appreciation we give each other and keep going. People who do the hard stuff and deal with hard things head on and without delay have my admiration. I try to. But boy, it doesn't come naturally to me. But what it does is usually stop problems from getting to overwhelming. It's just sometimes when you have no solutions and don't know what to say, you have to say it anyway and let others step in and offer suggestions and even help. It remains impossibly hard for me to ask for help, and being this open took some time too. But it's hard fought and I'm not going backwards. Land ho ahead...
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From 5/31/2017:
Super sub told me some time ago that I am "enamored" of TBH. I likely am. But I know how we are all initially when we meet someone who engages us physically and mentally. You begin to see so much in common from your values systems, what you both like sexually, food preferences, personal histories, even that your names both have exactly the same letter count...it all seems significant and promotes attachment. But I know we simply allow ourselves to see these commonalities and not the differences. I experienced being on the opposite side of that with BC. He was into me fast and didn't hesitate to let me know. I felt immediate red flags since such a thing happened with cuck. Both men used the "L" word within weeks. I was charmed and slid into something more with both way before I knew them. There were moments when it was heady. But also a fundamental distrust of the whole thing because my head knew none of these men has any idea who I am but rather I fit a role they needed filled in their lives. They saw what they chose to see in me. But not me.
I want to have fun. I need to have fun. But I am all about connection. I am deeply attached to the people in my life from my children to the friends I am blessed with. But for all I manage expectation. And it's not easy. I want to sink into deep deep intimacy. Well part of me does. There other part of me wants fun. Now mix intimacy and fun...well that's a home run. How do I go about it though is something I need to learn. But I also know I want to know and be known soup to nuts. And adored battle scars, faults and all. Embraced fully. And I want to give the same. It's just the mechanics of doing so I'm not skilled with. Understanding all this is one thing. But craving the touch, scent, mind, and voice of a particular man is something entirely different.
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From 5/30/17:
I can't even remember the last time I closed a bar with a date. But I do remember my late 20s local shore clubs followed by the all night diner that no longer exists. My Saturday evening with TBH felt just like those times. He came up with McD's fries. Now my children don't eat McD's after their public school showed endless films decrying it's the poison of us all. Me? I'm not fond of eliminating anything unilaterally and limiting choices but it's been a couple of years since fries. But you know when something just sounds like the best idea ever and you need to do it right NOW? So you've got this 50 something and 60 something yr old couple at the drive thru middle-of-nowheresville at 2:40 in the morning for fries...and we noshed away with the windows open blowing so his fancy car doesn't smell like fast food. All gone by the time we hit the hotel from hell, giggling and tripping into the room and fucking each other silly.
So I pass McD's now? Makes my damn nipples perk....What a good night...
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From 5/29/2017:
Shopping on occasion can serve as a visual overload to reboot my brain. I am still processing the weekend and I woke naked in my bed craving lips and skin and cock.
It was a near thing. Several times I was going to back out as much of the weekend seemed very very far outside my comfort zone. But if you've read my endless self indulgences here, you know I've ended up living outside my comfort zone not by choice to start. And it's been good, ultimately, for me. Plus I figured if I really was a scaredy cat enough to be a rude no show, TBH would probably never talk to me again. There was a time that would've been okay, but it's a friendship I value.
Late planning any summer weekend, especially Memorial Day, means you get what you get accommodation wise. This was a roadside motel, very reasonable, nice hosts. But not a place I would feel comfortable checking into solo. I told super sub, OMG, what have I gotten myself into. He responded that I am "accustomed to finer things." I don't think of myself like that because I drive a 10 year old American car, live in a house that needs work, don't have a big tv or take big vacations, and am pretty plainly dressed. But he's right in a way. I live in a safe neighborhood, my children all have better phones than I do, I can usually pay for my old car to get fixed and shop for treats at Whole Foods. My Gran would be horrified at what I pay for fruit.
I kissed a woman this weekend. And shared her breasts with TBH. That wasn't even on the table. And it seems we both did it to turn the other on. Though she was a smoker so he didn't like the way she tastes. I enjoy that mini nicotine buzz of kissing a smoker. I remember fucking the chef ages ago who smoked. My puss would actually tingle from him. But TBH is a purist in more ways than one. His diet is mostly pescatorial. I made that word up, but maybe it's a real one. The end result is that his cum is inoffensive and I'm curious to consume it. Or even better share it.
He charms me, TBH. I changed his moniker to TBH (tall bald handsome). We're comfortable with each other. I don't hesitate to greet him with a hug and kiss and we sit and converse like old friends. Well old friends sitting on a bed in a 70s era clean cheap hotel room, knowing they're going to fuck each other silly. Friday night we were tucked into our separate sides of the king and ever so polite. By Sunday morning I woke up entwined with him, skin to skin. I like skin to skin. But I'm a tactile sort. It's truly a pleasure for me. But even more so if I know it is for him.
There's more. Lots more. But I'm trying to get my head back to now and not look back to a weekend nearly done I read a truism on my shopping jaunt today. "Don't look back. You're not going that way." I'd thought of my ex and the hard stuff done when I saw it. But it also means not to get stuck in the wanting. Because really, if I could, I could just fuck that man all day or simply listen to him and enjoy him. But our mutual escape is done. And now time to get back and do what I do, even the less pleasant stuff. And if delicious images creep into my head involving the two of us, it'll keep everyone wondering what I'm smiling about.
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From 5/25/2017:
One of my more uncomfortable personal truths if that I have too many times ended up unable to bear being in the presence of a man I am in a relationship with. I lose tolerance. And those things that drew me to him drive me away. With luck I began to dread the dinners we've have at a country pub that I formerly adored. I would lose tolerance for his eyes wandering to whatever game was on tv but mostly it was his lack of social ability and how I would have to cheerfully carry on the conversation or there would be none. With CW I couldn't bear the same ole. He'd pick me up, we'd go to dinner, come back to my place, fuck. Seldom any variability; the funny things is now I'd enjoy simple dinner and conversation. And BC...always hosting and cooking so I'd always have a 45 minute drive and we'd never go out, his way of breathing a long hmmmm....before expressing a thought, and eventually his scent all became things that just lost appeal. None of it is fair. I don't understand why I get there, to the point where I can no longer bear them. I still like them. But I think maybe I let them lead and embraced what they wanted whether or not it was what I want. I get to the point where my backbone stiffens, and so do I. But it's not nice.
Well all see what we want to see the first three months or so of dating. But then you get to see the person in their reality. And realize what you can and cannot deal with. There have been very few men I have ever wanted to actually sleep with in my bed. I love my space. But those few there are, I want to nearly tuckin like a little girl and snuggle up to him and feel rather treasured and adored. Touch still does so much.
I'm too exhausted to write tonight. I'm in a tizzy thinking I've got myself into another something I should not be in. But I can't keep my eyes open.
Pen
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You know what? Managing expectations and all is a bunch of hooey. It's just standard girl stuff. You know the old Dr. Doolittle movie? It had a creature with two heads on each end, 4 legs. Looked like a messed up llama. It was called a push me/pull me. And that just what I do. Fuck it. I like the guy. And I want to spend time with him. So I'm just gonna be real. And not be attached to the outcome, though that's easier said than done. And I'm going to repost all the silly girly nonsense and hot stuff about my weekend since I did say I'd never edit myself for a guy.
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Big changes. Big a@@ changes really. Pretty much everything all at the same time. Thank heavens I have good people to call on for advice. There are moments when we are forced to plan our economic lives way more than we want to. This is pretty much such a moment for me. Now I'm pretty good with money despite my taste for travel and decent food. I'll do without other things to manage to get what I need. And I certainly manage to provide for my small family when it is needed. But I make us all work for it. Work/reward is a model that has always motivated me.
I have truly been through more than anyone can imagine for longer than imaginable. And it look as if the level of insecurity and uncertainty may be drawing to a quicker close than I'd foreseen. There are going to be quite a few things I'll have to live with that I abhor. But in the end I expect I will gain more than I lose. And it's going to get damn hairy for awhile. But I am determined to make June a lovely month. I'm traveling a bit with some of my fav people and maybe I'll get to handcuff a favorite on my beachfront break...those carrots dangling ahead keep me sane in the midst of great great stress. And it is that. The final heave ho of control. It's going to turn out the way it does. But mostly it'll be a long ass process that has controlled how I live coming to an end. And then I get to tweak things and make it all work, if a little differently. Change, sure. But I know I can make it good.
My ex used to call me a "squirrel." I was always prepared. If I had one of something, there was always a spare or two squirreled away so we never did without and never had to rush out to get something. I'll admit it. I was probably OCD. So maybe my spices are still pretty much alphabetized in an effort at efficiency. But children will cure you of all sorts of persnicketiness. Now I'm not about things. I'm about people. On every level I live to be with, help, and try damn hard not to hurt people. 'Cause that's the joy. And those are the moments that stay with you.
I suck at negotiation. Though I'm pretty good at defusing a situation with humor. If I can find a little charm and a bit of humor, maybe I can make this whole thing less destructive. I know one thing. I'm going to need a friend. Maybe a whole host of them to hold my hand through this one.
Send me good thoughts folks,
Pen
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It is never good for a woman to think too long on one man, no matter how appealing he may be. It's our go to and natural, both men and women. But then you invariably starting thinking, what does he/she think? Am I too fat/skinny? Omg, did I really say that? Was the sex good? It was good for me? Was it good for her/him? Are my breasts big enough? Is my cock big enough? Oh y'all know what I mean. It's crazy making stuff. I don't usually let myself play that game 'cause I know there are options for us all so I keep on dating. And by this age, when things start to well...not be quite the way they used to when I was a pretty young thing who hated what was in retrospect a kickass little body. Now I like imperfection more than perfection. History. Experience. Maybe a little wisdom. But more so I just like people who see me and who I see for who they are. I don't want to change or judge or, heaven forbid, hurt...anyone. I just want to enjoy all.
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There are times when I am the most clueless of females. I miss subtleties. I screw up simple. Complicated comes my way often. And maybe it's because I do complicated well. Though I still profess to want simple.
I've gotten used to a certain level of professional uncertainty. I can roll with it there since I'm not the only one & my cohorts and I talk/support each other the whole way. But I'm a whole lot less tolerant of myself when I am uncertain personally. Those are in many ways bigger decisions, particularly if they involve my family. I still wonder at times who put me in charge, but in charge I am....
Sex is an area I seldom feel uncertainty. I want it. It's simple...well, most of the time. A man I enjoy invited me to a swingers club with him. You'd think it would be a simple thing given my proclivity for parties. But I swing solo and I swing with primarily single (or those pretending to be single) men. For a long time I didn't feel I could call myself a swinger since it implied a couple centered activity to me. But I do. I've been asked why? To me sex is a basic human need. Need. You have a need. Our bodies are made for it. So if you can do so safely, by all means fuck. There's a social component as well. I like watching others have sex. I like having sex with several cocks though I'm most satisfied by one if the chemistry is right. Does that make sense?
NSA sex is more fun and semi satisfying with multiple men. NSA sex with one guy is less satisfying unless there's a friendship or mental connection. Add kink and even the shallowest fuck can be deeply satisfying. But we all know kick ass sex (the kind we are all looking for) happens with connection. Mental, physical, and sometimes emotional. The first two are easy for me. The latter I fight. But I am just as likely to grow attached as anyone else.
I prefer private parties as a swinger venue. The hosts vet all guests. Privacy is protected. And I generally have a protector or two who look out for me. Clubs...well, I've been to a few. Often with just a platonic friend. Steep admission price usually. And paying to get into a place that involves sex never seems quite kosher with me. The blessing of being a single woman in what some call "the lifestyle" is that I never have to pay to get in. And I refuse to be anyone's ticket. So this invite has me a bit uncomfortable. I'd love to watch this guy from a distance ply his charm. But this is not in my locale where I meet a few folks I know among the groups I've been with. And this guy, while I like him, I don't really know him. Swinging with another person takes a level of trust and communication we don't have. Or maybe it'll just be fun. I've no way to tell.
I just like this guy quite a bit. He might be a bit of a flake now and then as am I. And he certainly is just as unsure about what he wants as I am now and then. But oh, he's fun. And I, who hasn't really enjoyed kissing many men for years, find kissing the man almost as good as edging him. That is new. But I am uncomfortable. And not sure if it's my usual level of stepping out of my comfort zone natural wariness. Or if it's instinct telling me to stop.
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I met an Englishman at a party not long ago who has decided I'm a perfect audience for him to send pics of his adventures. Mind you, I didn't ask him to. Nor do I have any interest in viewing pics of a man I may be even mildly interested in fucking someone other than I. And even then...well...I prefer to be in the midst of things rather than taking pics. I don't want even an ounce of distance when it comes to the physical. I want to lose myself and just BE with my partner.
I have been thinking of women and wondering if I should give it a try. But I'm such a cock girl as much as I do find natural large breasts fascinating. I always have the most impertinent questions, same as I do with a big cock. "Doesn't it/they get in the way?" "Oh now it/they must get such attention?" "Does your back hurt walking around with it/them?" My questions are genuine as I want to know the answers. But they can make us both giggle at times. But how does one learn if you don't ask?
Another handsome male has turned up. Island Prince from my very first party about 18 months ago and I ran into each other. We had great banter and chemistry back then and it was one of my few forays into dating interracial. I've never consciously excluded other nationalities/races from my dating pool but I tend to meet more white men than otherwise. I have an attraction to olive skin as mine never goes even pale caramel with tan. In any case it took me a time to figure out who he is. And he knew it. Not very nice of me when I've slept in his bed. He was determined to pull me aside and "explain." I remembered he got upset with me when I didn't keep in touch regularly and didn't progress to a regular relationship with him. So I shrugged and let it go back then as clearly we were on different pages. We did speak (the man is a handsome devil with facial hair so precise and well groomed I was compelled to reach out and touch, telling him how well it looks). But heavens, no harm no foul. But now he's begun texting again. We could enjoy our chemistry immensely if we met at parties, but so many want to meet privately. And I know that never works away from the group setting.
My mind is mixed. I'm a monogamist in relationships. Always have been. But the thought of always spending my free time doing the same thing with the same person inevitably leaves me not wanting to spend time with him anymore. I start to crave time to do different things and resent the man who has claimed my time unfairly. But I think (hope) there's someone out there like me who likes to step out of the same ole, same ole and do new. Things and places we haven't been before. Awkward as it may be to step out of our comfort zones, it feels like living. And that is what I need.
I'm a quiet sort though no one believes me anymore. It's true. I'm an introvert. I just had to develop skills otherwise. But before I walk into a crowded room alone or into a restaurant prime time to get a solo table, I can't breathe. It's that way a lot. Uncertainty. Insecurity. Fear even. But I suppose my difference is I don't let it stop me. I walk through it. And it's ended up freeing me to have the most extraordinary experiences and getting to know such disparate folks all over the place. And that is good for me.
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I think it's my libido that's getting in the way. All I want to do is fuck (and quite frankly be filled with endless cum). It's distracting. I shower and the water arouses me. I get dressed and my bra makes my nipples harden. I walk and my puss is so sensitized I get wet from the feel of my own panties. This craving to be used and hard is unusually submissive for me.
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I'm more than a bit confused. We've all been there. Trying this and that on for size and enjoying yourself but never quite sure what you want. I thought I wanted casual and light. But I get bored when my mind is not stimulated. I did have a date with a rather brilliant man. He's a sensualist like me. And more dominant than I expected in the bedroom. I think I wouldn't mind for a time to be taken in hand and used hard. But I'm finding no matter whom I'm with, I am left unsatisfied. My forays into multiple men are fun certainly but...well...empty. And I can enjoy lighter pleasures yet there's something out of reach and I can't quite figure out what it is. I don't think it's necessarily a relationship; having someone else co-opt my too much of my free time makes me feel decidedly caged. If I close my eyes, what comes to me is a man & I in bed, kissing like there's no tomorrow, fucking, tucking in, fucking again and again. It's a damn movie scene I crave or a scene from a novel...that perfect night of losing yourself in each other. But my brain clamors for the ease of conversation. I speak with supersub daily though it's been many months since we have played. We have ease. And he is of course beautiful, if a decade too young. I met another younger man this weekend, Latino...Latino men are the most skilled at seduction. He had muscles like supersub, the over developed shoulders and biceps that make my mouth water and an unexpectedly enormous cock I could feel behind me as he rubbed my shoulders. I know what I crave...the guy who is so turned on by you that he keeps getting hard and needs to fuck you again & again. That's my dream guy, but of course to be able to do I'd probably need to go a'cougaring...
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Our children hold our hearts. If we are very fortunate they'll give back to us the way we live to give ourselves and all we can to them. A beautiful day to the mamas out there...
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Reduced stress any way I could and took my blood pressure. Without caffeine a good and healthy 126/81 with a stress level through the roof. That surprised me. Perhaps I have more inner resources than I credit myself for. Did what I must though I wanted to hurl the whole time. I was brought up to never ever ask anyone for anything, particularly help. That would be my third worst fault. Working on that one too. Asking anyone for something is just about the hardest thing for me to do in my personal life. But one thing I do kow is that is things get fucked up you don't hesitate. Call back within 24 hours and have the tough conversations. People respect that. It treats them with respect and this time they worked with me. So I'm able to keep the wolf at the door for a bit longer. I'm not a short term thinker usually. I want to fix things once and for all, but right now that is going to have to do. And I've bought myself more time, a precious resource.
Darlings, I need to FUCKKKKK....hard, rough, beautifully and soon.
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If someone told me tonight "the universe provides," I'd smack 'em. But sure enough as I was tucking in a friend texted. Actually two old friends. One I'll have lunch with on Wednesday though intuition tells me her life and marriage may have changed in unexpected ways to her. The other, my cohort, I will miss. She's managed to find her way through difficulties different than mine but at core the same. We're about keeping our children safe, giving them the opportunites they need and picking them up/getting them help when they need it. Outwardly we are completely different. She is young and fierce and fearless with a mouth she can't always control. I adore her. I'm older, don't give up (some call that stubborn) and fight fears regularly. We both achieved something today but her concerns keep her from sleeping and she finally came clean with me today about what. She feels better. I feel better she has me to talk to. And quite frankly on a night when things get to me, it's comforting to have someone always on my side who can't sleep also.
I have a few very bad characteristics. One. When I get something, I often find I don't want it. Well, maybe not often. But enough times that it bothers the hell out of me. Two. I can hold it together through the worst of everything. But when it's done I tend to fall apart. And I feel that now. I cried and cried today. Not joy. Just sheer frustration and anger and fury at how peace eludes my family and I. I think I'll figure it out. I'll make a whole lot of calls I don't want to make. And try my damnest doing things I just don't want to do. But I am very serious about wanting to pull the covers over my head and stay her in my bed for days. I can't. But I need it. The problem is I'll miss the joy if I let myself stew. And I've let things get in the way in the past and shadow what should be all celebration. I have to fix that about me and now.
I would be best hermiting away at present. But I'm not going to be able to. If y'all pray or do whatever works for you energy wise, send me some well wishes and positive energy. I need it. And I'll send it right back.
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It truly does seem that the minute I achieve a victory, small or big, I get slammed. Hard. And not in the good way a woman wants to be pushed. I'm exhausted and overwhelmed when I should be celebrating. And I don't think there's another soul who gets it or gets me. It's not a fair statement but hell this is a tough night. I always say tomorrow will be better. But I'm damn tired of hard. I could use some easy.
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Pinot Noir and dark chocolate at 5:30 in the afternoon on a shore day that was supposed to be a wash out...but it's gorgeous if a little chill. Frankly darlings all I can think about is fucking. And cum. I cum a lot. A lot a lot. No one believes me but when I'm pinned down or a man is holding me by my throat while he fucks me missionary, the impact of his cock will end up splashing me with squirt. That's how much I cum. I need an umbrella when I'm that deeply visceral. I will say the dirtiest things out of my normally very proper mouth and beg for cum. I'd make a great cum slut and fantasize about being filled repeatedly with cum until I can't move without it running down my legs. It's more fantasy than reality as I've never done it with multiple men and I have to want the man to want to keep his cum inside of me. I've begun thinking of making tall dark & handsome cum in my mouth and sharing it with him. Or just taking it from him with my mouth and words so he can't help but cum. Stress is easing but oh, I want to be as bad as I can be.
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I wish physical satisfaction lasted longer. Though my libido might be to blame since, oh, I crave tactile input so much. It's a stormy day on the Jersey Coast, best spent fucking and tucking in. The sound of the rain on the roof and against the window panes when my head is resting on a man's chest and I can hear his heart beat at the same time...it's perfect comfort and utter contentment (particularly if we are both waiting for our hearts to slow after fucking).
Yes, thank you, those kind enough to reach out, stress is easing. And I just might have come to a stopping point in one of my hardest fought achievements. My Gran always taught me never count your chickens before they are hatched, so I'm not there yet but it's looking good. I've realized though that I half expect things to get fucked up. And in my world they often do. I can deal with problems that come my way and figure out solutions or try to have patience when necessary. But it was an awakening of sorts that I expect things to head south and so I plan for them. The hypothetical law of attraction states you get what you manifest. I'm not much for metaphysical theories of the universe and feel-good-psycho-babble. But...it might.
I always figured be prepared for the worst. Then if it works out better, it's a pleasant surprise. But I fret. Fretting comes natural to me. So it takes a concerted effort to shut down that part of my brain and just be. There is empirical data that negative self talk leads to poorer outcomes, though I don't think many who know me would ever consider me negative. Well the ex would be the exception there...LOL.
I forget sometimes in my cravings that sex is a simple biological need. Yep, just like eating or food. Of course we invest it with all sorts of other qualities and use it to build or celebrate connection. Hell, I'm not a naysayer there. Sex with connection is a homerun. But just going to the baseball game and having a nice hot dog is still a damn good night.
Then there's kissing. CW was not a great kisser. The ex so so. BC was nice but I didn't want to just slam him against the wall when I saw him and lock lips. Tall, dark & handsome...yeah, that's precisely what I want to do. And I crave kissing the guy maybe more than his particularly fine cock. I'm still trying to get my head around it. I think it's his grin. But my lips tingle to explore his. Actually I've been wondering if I could make him cum from simply sucking his balls while giving him a slippery hand job. I'm beginning to wonder what it would feel to have him explode on my breasts or in my mouth. There's a craving to take him into my body in every way I can come up with.
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I feel particularly well fucked. I ran away to the circus this weekend. To watch the wonder, since it'll be gone soon. And blessedly I had a rather fabulous companion who gets my desire to roadtrip and go and simply live. My breasts are swollen and I can feel my bra cup them; it reminds me of his hands and mouth. And sitting down...well...I've tender parts. These leftover sensations will follow me for days.
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Better. Definitely better. But where there's a light at the end of the tunnel all sorts of bullshit I can usually keep at bay begins to creep in. The secret I suppose is to hold on to positivity and keep trying my a@@ off not to take things personally. Y'all know the definition of crazy includes doing the same damn thing over and over again. Well my ex has that kind of crazy and I'm mostly innured to it right now. BUT when I begin to have to counsel my crying boy over bs supposedly long done...well now that squeezes my heart. And it hurts. And there's not a damn thing I can do to fix the choices another parent makes on his time. This particular son has been through more than any boy should. He's learned from his peer and from his father that love and friendships mean putting up with verbal attacks and off-again-on-again relationships. I wish I could teach him better but I haven't ever brought anyone close enough into our family to model anything different. They see me respected. They see me with friends. But not with a male. And oddly, I've been proud of that. They've been protected.
And I've led a compartmentalized life. It works mostly. But I'm starting to think it might be time to try being less careful. Still women are judged. Way harsher than men. Even in this day and age. And bringing a man to my bed with my family here remains completely distasteful. The ex did it without even preparing them. I was horrified. But then part of me is still a prude at heart. The other part of me though...just craves joy. And most of the time I manage to find it. It's an odd time for me. I've a bday soon and as much as I try, I inevitably take stock of myself and where I am. This year I should be proud and pleased. But I still do what I did as a teen. I excuse any achievements away with "oh, I was just lucky" or "I test well" or "I don't know much but I'm a hard worker." But I value people who are not self promoting in a world of self promoters. Theres's something to be said for modesty; one of my children is. And it an extraordinarily undervalued quality to most but I find it lovely. My kingdoms for an extraordinary but ever so humble man...
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Positivity is my go to, but it's failing me now. I am overwhelmed to the point that just one tiny more thing will make me cry. It's similar to the reactivity I feel when my hormones get out of whack as many women can understand. But this is born of exhaustion. I live outside of my comfort zone but sometimes you lose the resiliency to do so. Seeking new experiences and being put in a position to do things for the first time with others watching and judging means I often look like an idiot. That takes resiliency, the ability to bounce back without taking things personally. But when one consistently feels less than capable, as positive a spin I can put on it, it's exhausting. And there's no one to catch me. These are the times I miss a warm hard body in my bed to sink into and curl myself into his arms. But truly platitudes like "you got this" and "you'll do fine" aren't going to cut it right now. I don't want to do this anymore. But I must.
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I had the Dom I met the other night out to the shore for a cuppa tea this AM. Ostentably to give a bid on my job since he's a contractor. But yes, I also wanted to sit and flirt and get his details before I brought him to the property. My home is an unusual place. And quite frankly I've long viewed it as a pit to grudgingly throw both money and most of my energies into. Y'all heard of Sisyphus? Greek legend. You know him as the archetypical guy condemned to roll a boulder up a mountain, only to have it roll back down when he gets to the top and so he begins again. Condemned to repeat the same damn bullshit for eternity. Pretty much how I've viewed my house. But there's no doubt it's cool and it's the only home my children have known.
The house has spaces that would be kick ass for the kind of kinky play I'm beginning to crave. As I took the contractor/Dom through what needed to be done and what supplies I had on hand, I could see his eyes sparkle at the thought of the potential. Now I've long thought of starting a group, only I'm not a joiner. I love the social aspects of what y'all call "the lifestyle." But cliques form. And the whole point of kink for me is breaking the damn rules, not starting a whole new set of organization protocols that ends up being one more thing for me to do. I love the idea of private little dinner parties with likeminded folks that can evolve to more or not. The thing is though that I don't think of myself as a swinger as much as I enjoy swinger parties. I'm the unicorn single girl at these places with no one to worry about pleasing but me. And that is so simple and so freeing.
I'm finding though that I meet people. Many of whom I really really like. Don't y'all yearn to talk freely about everything under the sun, including sex? Though I don't like playing with attached men or couples, I love talking with them. I haven't figured out how to balance my libido and desire for adventure (sexual and otherwise) with by equally strong desire for a one and only. Well maybe a one primary. I don't know how to play as a couple when both are equal partners rather than one a cuck. And even having a cuck was hard for me as I was always concerned about his well being.
I'm 52 soon, though blessedly that still surprises some. Menopause isn't far away. And I'm concerned my libido will take a nosedive. So I grab greedily at joy and sex and fun while my body still works this well. I'm going to be that old lady typing or dictating all her naughty memoirs and embarrassing the youngers in the room. But I'll be a hoot....
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I'm starting to understand why I do what I do. And why I've made choices that lead me outside of my comfort zone. I rarely feel fear these days. But stress...yes, plenty. I continually seek ways to protect myself and my spirit. Touch always works. But at times it feels like I am in a world of people who constantly take from me and give little. I fucking crave reciprocal relationships. Maybe that's why I crave the simplicity of sex.
I solved some damn complicated problems today. Astonishingly efficient to have it all done by teatime. (That's mostly luck and waking up early.).
I met a Dom over the weekend. An attractive one. It's not easy to find the clean cut respectable ones who save their leather for inside rather than the world. I had begun to feel a bit hopeful that maybe a nice blend of my respectable reality and kink could come together close to home. He was at least honest when I asked him about his "it's complicated" "friends with benes" status. Apparently that means an asexual older live in girlfriend and an open relationship. Though at core a monogamist, I get the desire for more. But who wants to be a side dish when a man is already committed to someone else? Not me, no matter how skilled he is.
I still struggle with the notion of monogamy. I've long been one. But I've found for several years now I avoid the discussion of whether we are or aren't if at all possible. Unless you agree mutually it's a monogamous relationship, it's not. And there's a freedom there. But I believe in it. Outdated as it may be. I'm a retro sort of chick. And find the idea of a one and only just lovely. Though it might be hard to go back.
I am spending my time doing hard stuff. Working like a mad woman. And I so need joy. I'll get it eventually. But it's hard to stay the course. But if I put in the work now, keep my equilibrium and don't let my positivity get buried in the mud...I just might be able to achieve most of what I've been working towards.
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It takes a bit of doing to maintain equilibrium when your life is changing on nearly every level. It's a little like when I finished college the first time. Possibilities and choices to make. Not enough real knowledge to pick the best option, so I'll end up doing what I did then and follow the money since resources give you options. I wish it were more fair. But I grew up on public assistance. Got to be a princess in an icy palace for a time. Now it's occasional chaos. I'm in charge, despite wondering what everyone was thinking to put me there. There are relationships and commitments and hard things to do. But I'll take this anyday. It's warm and I'm an integral part of something bigger than me. If you read back in my journal, this was a long time coming. And sure sometimes I feel lonely. But when you slog through for a long time, making it to the other side (or nearly there in my case) is a new and remarkable feeling. It's the absence of fear. And darlin's, I've lived with fear my whole life. That's a new kind of freedom, finding you can deal with whatever comes. Knowing it.
I'm still incredibly horny for real cock. I met lovely men this weekend. Some those gorgeous gym rats I appreciate aesthetically but don't usually want to fuck. Young men. There's a lot of them out there and you'd think they'd be simple. But they aren't. Poor time management skills, too many social media sites to connect on before you can actually talk, no skill at risk taking and they can't get a hotel room with even the slightest finess. They are beautiful though. But I don't want to fuck them.
I still enjoy men older than I. Finesse. Manner. They know you can treat a lady like a lady in public and a whore in private. And there's a humor to it. Self depreciation. The knowledge that we all used to be more beautiful with fewer lumps and bumps and wiggly bits. And mostly things work; but there's no telling when it won't. So you shrug and muddle it out. We're nervous as hell the first time. Try being over 50 darlings and taking your clothes off in front of a new lover for the first time...not for the faint of heart. But you know, I enjoy what others might consider imperfections. Though sure, they're easier to enjoy on someone else than on oneself. I do still see the same face in the mirror. My friends tease me and tell me I have no wrinkles, though I do have a a few. I grin and tell them that's 'cause they're all plumped up with fat....and that's okay. My pants are still loose enough a naughty man could slide his hand down them, so I'll do.
I'm dreaming of cock and cum and kissing.
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In my efforts to promote non-attachment and still be with sex positive (okay, and perverse) folks, I attended a BDSM party tonight. Now of course the issue with BDSM parties for me it that it's more about the domming than the sex. And I'm all about the sex. Still, as equally awkward and titilating being the new meat in the room is, it felt good to be with sex positive folks again. And to let out my inner Domme. No sex. But oh it's fun to Domme a Dom...
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My cohorts and I are all in a WTF-have-we-gotten-ourselves-into quandary. I nearly lost it myself this week and our reality is dispiriting. And really no one can truly understand but those of us who have stuck it out. We need so desperately to escape, to be hugged, to be fucked, and to be taken care of for a bit. Every damn one of us. Lucky for us we have each other. And somehow all being in the same place, even if it feels like hell, tells us we are not alone. Holding each other up and talking it out and finding happy places is going to get us through. Three weeks and the sun shines again.
I reached out. Tall, dark, and handsome was charming. He has a boyish quality at 60ish that I hope stays with him. And he listened to my late night tipsy ramblings with kindness. I am a bit enamored of the guy. But of course I don't know who he is in reality. But oh, what beautiful simple fun escapes we have.
CW remains a friend and I like his brusqueness. It's business; you know how to not take it personally. Just do it. And if you need a fuck....lol...but I'm not fucking him anymore. Love him though. He's the only guy who really took on a protective role with me and it meant the world. Still does. I'll look after him if he needs it and he's my friend. Plus I put up with his Scotchy peversities some nights and verbally spank him when he needs it.
BC. I feel awful about how he feels. And I know it because I remember being the wife to a husband who never had time for me. You feel unimportant, not a priority, and unloved. And here I've done it to a perfectly nice man. I told him at the start I don't do relationships because I end up making someone I care about unhappy as I can only give so much. And it's never enough. And so now here I am responsible for someone else's unhappiness.
I want to do a proper relationship. Well actually I want to do a completely improper relationship. Proper in public; utterly depraved in private. I want to take a man by his collar and shove him against the wall hard. Tear all the buttons off his oh-so-proper dress shirt and leave him trying to catch his breath and naked while I'm fully clothed. On the flip side I wouldn't mind being made to take whatever he had to dish out either. I cum from being held down. I cum from my breasts being pinched and pulled and sucked. Hell, I wouldn't mind walking around with bruises on my breasts a week later from how desperately he held my breasts. I'd like to mark him too. There's a pleasure in possession, if only temporary.
And oh, I cum from fucking. I want hard, rough, making-me-take-every-inch-of-his-cock fucking. And I want to be possessed as much as I want to possess him. Well, at least in the bedroom....
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For an organized woman and planner at heart, I've found myself living with great spontaneity. Career wise I have a rough outline of a schedule but it changes frequently and flexibility is key. Bend or you break they say...I plan and I work and every now and then I surprise my self and am uber efficient. Then there's time. And darlin's my very favorite thing to do is fuck. But I really don't want to fuck just anyone these days. I'm spoiled a bit with a little charm and a bit more class. But even more so with someone who can go with the flow as I can, see opportunity for adventure when it presents, and be open to it. For a girl who loves to fuck, I've done surprisingly little of it given I have several choices should I chose to avail myself of nice big cock. For all me "let's do it" masculine energy, I'm still a woman. And darlings, we women adore being surprised, responded to, and damn well seduced. I almost went for BC tonight but thank heavens I had the peace of mind, even stewed in Pinot, to let it go. Best to be a good girl and roadtrip, yoga, or walk it out on the boards tomorrow. But damn, this girl is horny as hell...
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I want to yell and storm and gnash my teeth. Rather like the monsters in the children's classic Where the Wild Things Are. And I want to vent about one particular idiot. But it's the same old backstory with the same old ex. Truly I never thought I'd have a husband let alone an ex husband. But I do. And somehow we had the loveliest children together. So for them, I deal. But damn it....I want a hug from a fellow adult who gets it. I know I'm mostly on the other side of the bullshit but there are times of such complete lack of regard still and I find myself still taken aback.
That's my Achilles heel, disrespect. Disrespect me, or worse, say something you didn't mean at all in that way that I take as disrespect and I turn into a warrior woman. I'll swallow my words if it's inappropriate to talk then and go for the 24 hour rule. Essentially if you're pissed or dealing with an ex, for heavens sake don't respond right away. Wait 24 hours and then do so with a cool head.
I can stay hot for awhile, even though I think I've learned not to take things personally. But there comes a moment when he hits the target and damn if it doesn't sting. I have to work on that. But I suppose even with the conflict there was a resolution. Which is better than it was. Still I hate conflict as much a man does...
Oh I wish I could tuck in and talk and nuzzle and unbutton a dress shirt and just work my way down. I fill my mouth so I'd have to stop wasting my time talking of such things and could do far better...
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A high compliment indeed when you overhead your teenage daughter's friends telling her she has a "cool" mom. I'm rather proud of that since I'm still inconveniently authoritarian and consistent with consequences. A wholesome night. It reminded me of when I was a her age, tucking into my room singing and acting the score to Grease though nowadays it's Hamilton. The girls varied between youthful hide-n-seek to fake weapon play a la Ranger's Apprentice to dress up and musicales, and ended building a sheet fort in the living room. I live for this stuff. A houseful of guests to cook for and listen to their interaction and to see my children completely happy immersed in the moment.
I've learned from them how to immerse myself in experience. Find joy in the moment. Live and be present. It did not come natural to me, a careful, cautious planner. Truly I hadn't a spontaneous bone in my body. But now...I wonder where that girl went. I am both more selfless and selfish than ever before. The care and well being of others is my priority on many levels, both professionally and personally. And there are intrinsic rewards there. It empties my tank completely at the end of the day, but I am left feeling a level of satisfaction and I suppose worth that I am doing something I consider good. It's selfish because I do it for me. Because it simply makes me feel good even if my body sometimes feels held together with those little brass pins we used in grade school. I'm also selfish because I take care of myself. I've learned if I'm not at close to 100%, I can't give what I need to give. It's one of the first things we learn. Take care of yourself first so you CAN care for others at the level they need.
The thing I miss though is a partner. It would have been a pleasure to connect or just share it all. It's silliness I know. That I want to talk and talk about a girl party. But I'm prouder of pulling that off than the 5 1/2 years of work on a professional project. Women judge ourselves in the quality of our relationships. And I feel rather wonderful about my little family. Men though...well...on some level I am saddened I failed at my marriage becuse I never imagined doing so.
I waited so long to marry. I dated him a decade (see I told you I was a deliberate girl back then). And I was never going to marry nor have children. It's how I know I should change my mind more often...since the children part worked out rather wonderfully. Thank heavens for my bio clock. But you know, I find I want to share those things that are important to me. And much of it is silliness and simple joys. In the middle of my proudest moments I don't have someone there who really gets it. And that feels lonely. It's not that often and I'm pretty comfortable with solitude. But yeah...I recognize this feeling more and more as milestones hit and there isn't anyone who really gets it and gets me.
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Tucking away my stockings and lingerie, all clean and folded, makes my eyes prick a bit as oh, I wish I were gearing up again. Hose, the prettiest of clothes next to my skin, and heels...I'm newly red again (the hair) and wish I were more play than work. But I've been fortunate in my escapes these past weeks.
I have a family holiday of sorts this weekend, so all have shown up to lend a hand. And it feels good to shine up my old house a bit. This may be my last spring in this house where I've planted now mature trees from what looked like a stick with a root. And the lilac bushes I added one by one every birthday. There's a progression since once I was quite the gardener. Snowdrops to crocus to daffodils and hyacinths. Camellia to pinks to columbine to lilacs to wild indigo. And then it just gets crazy. Roses that smell like roses. All those things that I've forgotten show up like old friends. I don't like dirt anymore or the weeds or the work. But I'll do it as a last goodbye to my old friends and I might even plant more lavender, my favorite of all.
I'm finding the wherewithal to be fierce and not back down from a whole lot of sh#%. Because I know I have to wade through a little more and get to the other side. And the other side is so close. The other side where I can stop marking time and getting though and staying the course....and live. I have gorgeous photo frame of my very silly family and I right when you enter my home. It states "LIVE" all caps and has my family laughing while I make funny faces. It is is us in a nutshell. Irreverent, silly, but oh, so together and bound by love.
I know I'm one of the fortunate ones. But this, all of it, was hard fought. And I'm not done. I'm surprised at me now. I still seek joy. But truly my favorite thing to do is fuck. It's just that simple. But of course I'm a woman, and occasionally the lady my Gran taught me to be...so I'm not that simple. I end up seeking connection. Because fucking is good...but it can be nearly transformative. And that's what I want.
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I'm a chatty one right now. Stressed and should be doing more productive things, but my head is full of nonsense I need to empty before it can work on higher level functions. I started something. I did the right thing. Hell, I most always do the right thing. Utterly boring...but now I'm in the middle of something I don't want to be in. But I must. Hell most of the time I end up in the middle of things I don't want to be in!!!
I so fucking need to be bad. So bad it's good...y'all know what I mean? And a nice big thick hard cock would go a long way to clearing my head. I need to cum. And cum. And fortunately I'm blessed to be multiorgasmic, squirting away...it's a terrible mess but there's nothing subtle about me in bed. And I like to talk. I like to use my voice to push my partner over the edge. There's something wonderful when you can make a man cum with just the right whisper.
Of course I'm tactile too. So I could just endlessly stroke and caress a man....I make myself stop usually since no everyone enjoys such excess. Truly I'd like to sleep with my hand curled around his cock. Or him tucked into the cleft of my ass and his arm thrown across me with my breast in his hand. Those micro movements we make all night inevitably make a man hard and it's utterly delicious to feel that increasing resistance against my ass. I can't stay still; I'll grind back at him. He usually wakes, hand tightening on my breast...and if I'm very good I'll feel the slide of hard cock into pussy from behind as his hand reaches for my neck.
I just want to be held and fucked and used sometimes. This would be one of those times...
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For such a simple girl I find myself emmeshed in such complicated scenarios. But for some people you'd fight any battle...maybe I know how to love better than I've given myself credit for.
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It's been like a game of hot potato. I have all these really critical issues in my hands...multiple hot potatoes if you will, and need to get them out. So I end up doing what I must and tossing them in the air to protect me and mine. And where they fall...well, that's what comes next and what I'm dealing with.
I may need to get more public and less private. No darlings, not in play. But in bringing a few of the dark-n-scaries into the light. Light is powerful force. Hmmmm...my name means light...
I would give much to kiss and fuck right now. I managed with my chiro and some deep acupressure for peripherary pain. All stress related. And all something a good fuck would cure. But oh...at present I want the tuck in too. I think Annapolis spoiled me a bit. What a delight that was. But as often happens when I play Domme, it requires planning and energy and time I don't always have. Sometimes even I want to have choices removed from my to do list...
CW has been knocking at the door. But I know how unreliable he is. So I tell him sure even as I'm unavailable, knowing we will not meet. I'm not invested in much at present but work and my family...though room is beginning to open up and, hell, I'm beginning to open up to possibilities. I continue to nay say BC...I don't know why as he would take such good care of me and has an enormous cock. (I've always told you I'm shallow.). It's pressure. And the certainty of essential non-compatibility. And it's that some people are young in spirit. I hope I remain so. But no...he isn't.
Women worry about some men who have a boyish quality. Shades of irresponsibility, playerdom, and assholeism...but there's another side to it. You meet someone who is a grownup in all ways otherwise but see that spark in their eyes...with me I can see it in a man's eyes. I can see the boy. Well the spirit of the boy. Of adventure. And desire. And that craving to do something a little out of the ordinary, maybe a little dangerous, and certainly something that lets you feel utterly free from convention. Now THAT's the kind of guy I seek. The ageless male. Real. Sexy. Smart. And chill. And if I find him I might just tie him up and do all sorts of naughty, naughty things to him. Even better if he's smart ass enough to need some spanks...
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Kink has been no more than a passing thought these past months....but now I'm finding that part of me is waking up and feeling very Domme. All my lovely toys, floggers, canes, the pony whip....Even more so I'm desirous of a proper cock to use a heavy silicone or even better, a shiny metal cockring with...to whisper and prod and watch him harden...then wince just a bit as his cock has no place further to go when bound by the ring. But moreso I want tease and take and push...I'm a hungry hungry girl...
There's something to be said for the game, that dance we do male/female (or otherwise if that's the way you roll). There's an art to it. And I appreciate art in its many forms whether it be a painting, an athlete in motion, the tune of wind instruments or, even more enticing, the sounds of sex. But that dance, that flirt...it's why I prefer older men...those who are skilled. Because really we're all mind fucks before the physical. Attraction starts in our heads.
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My calendar...it's color coded and as full as a rainbow as calls spilled in all day. I have a new project beginning in April and a schedule that will become anything but traditional. Flexibility is my cardinal skill these days and April will be nothing but. But oh, I'm a planner by nature so it's hard for me some days. I've just decided to schedule away and hope I can manage the project around life. I told my children about my weekend. And edited version of course; the younges in amazement said "you went there without us?" I've decided they've come of age enough that they can view me more as a person than just the source of getting them what they want. And I want to teach them to go off and find their own adventures too.
I find it odd that I am missing kissing. Usually I just want to get to the fucking. I'm a simple girl. But it's a little like art. You can love the stick figure for it's ease in conveying essentials. But flesh it out with muscle and tendon and drapery and color and you can almost drown in the richness of it. Or certainly lose yourself in daydreams. I'm a sucker for decent art. Especially those painters who are skilled at capturing the quality of light on a canvas. And I used to be mistaken for an art history major which still amuses me. I used to write all my French papers on art and artists so I suppose I doubled my education there. Next vaca might be art. j
Y'all know it's the first day of spring? My favorite season. Free cones at the DQ today for the kiddos. Yesterday's trout haul from my boys' fishing trip to PA tasted like fresh air. And my youngest who I have to stop calling "my baby" left me a flower box out of an old farm crate he filled with some daffodils and grass he dug up. It's rather charming. As is he.
I am beginning to see more ahead of me when I thought most of my achievement was behind. But I am hopeful. Many changes. Many resolution to very long standing issues are coming to a head. And altough there's great effort ahead for myself and my little family, there's also great potential. Interestingly enough, we all kicking ass in our own ways. And damn, that's a good feeling. I'm a girl who needs to be shaken up a bit to lose fear and push change. Piss me off and I take that negative energy and work it off to do something good with it. I refuse to keep running in place anymore. It's time for progression.
And then there's fucking...my attitudes are changing regarding what is good fucking. There's something so much more appealing about fucking someone you do know. And pushing boundaries...
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I am so glad I was brave...and took a weekend away solo. It took me some time to learn that most of living happens when you simply show up. It was a pleasure getting to know a man whose voice seduced me in the past. His grin and irreverence up close and personal is way way better. I don't actually know who seduced who this weekend. But oh, yum...
I think I've joined the ranks of "women of a certain age," though I'm told I look younger. But there's a beautiful thing that happens to women as we stop viewing each other through the eyes of the competitor in our youth...seeking to one up and accumulate that perfect life of husband, children, work, stuff, vacations and all around fabulousness. Once you've "achieved" such things and they become your raison d'etre you lose yourself in all the things you must do and be. If you're lucky something happens to shake you to your foundation and make you rethink it all. It happened to me and was one of the hardest things to survive. But now...well now I remain grateful for the woman I'm turning into.
Joy happens everyday in my life. I find it when I make someone look up and smile. I find it as I see green buds poking up through the soil in my garden. I find it when I meet new acquaintances and experience wonderful days in sunshine. I call those the "bonus" days, when the weather man gets it wrong and you show up to find sun and glorious heat in March. Yesterday I spent it waterfront, drinking my ubiquitous dark-n-stormies dockside watching the lion's man jellyfish undulating by in the water, indulging my love of learning in a maritime museum, and eating all the oysters I could stomach. There was a symbolic burning of socks as well to welcome spring, but that's a local nutty custom that's just great fun.
I was fortunate to meet other women of a certain age who chose wonderful ways to live. One of the best thing I've found is how we become a sisterhood of sorts as we age and other things melt away. We are a family, ladies, and should continue to support, teach and engage with each other.
Oh, but y'all want to know about the guy right? Well the guy is charming and the sensation of his lips on mine, his hand on my throat and his thick cock in my throat will will flirt around the edges of my mind for some time. Yay for adventure and sunny days and blessed blessed escape!
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I don't do things like Happy Hour or take weekends away just for me. But I did. Connected with some very old friends who always were way smarter than I...they still are, but oh, what wonderful things they've done with their lives. Some of us do work that helps very few and that's a choice my friends could've made as both come from privleged backgrounds. But they chose to use their skills towards groups of people who need the most help. My attorney friend helps provide housing for those in need. My physician friend who could easily rest on his laurels chose to give his time to veterans in need and they are many. We were a group of four all together...3 young men (2 of whom I dated) and little old me. The one I was most in love with chose to live his life narrowly in a rarified world of the high church. I consider that a lucky escape; I would have been a spectacular preacher's wife but oh what I would've missed!
It's St. Pat's of course today. And as an Anglo-Saxon redhead I am often mistaken for Irish. It was fun being out and about in the festivities early before anyone was truly shit faced. I dined on oysters and she crab soup and a pint glass sized margarita. I dined alone and caught a few eyes but I know how to be unapproachable a whole lot better than I know how to be approachable. And I had mission to shop for the children because of course I miss them. They assumed I was home/near and texted me as usual for this or that. How simple and one dimensional I must seem to them. Though they've seen me go through the worst of it with my ex too and found me weeping head down on the dining table. And certainly they've seen silly me and the side that works her ass off. So maybe they see more sides of me than I did of my authority figures. Our relationship is more collaborative than most parent/children. We are a team.
I choose Annapolis today, mostly because I found an affordable hotel with an in room jacuzzi and I like a sky line without sky scrapers. Plus its walkable and completely different than the Jersey shore but still has endless places on the water to explore. I took the Bay Bridge for the first time. What an intimidating endless stretch of causeway...beautiful though. And I could see more places to explore on the horizon. I'm a sucker for adventure. And I had one that leaves me both puzzled and grinning.
I've long talked to a lovely man who reached out after reading my journal on here. His voice does some wonderful things to a girl. Well we happened to be in the same town and both were brave enough to meet. I don't know if I should...but I will write it because I can't quite believe I was so bold. Though if I had any notion of what I was doing I would have been bolder yet. I had him come to my hotel and sit in the desk chair blindfolded before he could even look at me. Brave man him to do it. We both were. He brought rope. Yeah, you get why I had to write it down. Did I really do that? I'm still shaking my head in disbelief and woke thinking I was dreaming it. But here's a bag with rope on my desk...
And I'd do it again.
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Another Dark-n-Stormy night. Dark dark Bermuda rum, ginger beer, and a few lemon wedges. I bought a new big bottle of Goslings in preparation for the storm as it works well for post-snow-shoveling hot buttered rum too...and I'd finally emptied the previous one. I perused tequilas too since oh, margaritas make me giggly and flirty to excess...but I figured I'll keep that for a going out on the town drink, given I like salt and I'm all about less sodium to stay smart and healthy. Besides the true test of man is if he can pour a proper margarita, flirt outrageously, and still chase me up the stairs to the bedroom ...A blizzard, I'm told, is on the way.
My small family and I did what everyone did today...stock up and get ready to hunker in. There's artic char in the frig and an amazing steak and Caesar dinner tonight. The children persuaded me into a caramel chocolate cake to see them though the storm but it's far too sweet for me. (That's a good thing.). It's a def snow day tomorrow I think and,oh, I love being snowed in with those I love and a warm house. Fingers crossed it stays that way.
If I had another life I'd wish for a stellar guy in my bed to keep me warm. But ne'er the two (kiddos & my sex life) meet. I've never had a man overnight when the children were home. And I don't expect to...well, unless the unexpected happens and I find a guy I want to share more with. I'm really ridiculously proper in some ways. I've never lived with a man I wasn't married to. I've never worn black or white to a wedding (both are improper). And I put away my whites after Labor Day. I still send handwritten thank you cards. And I prefer to be called Mrs. So-and-so over my first name. Some Doms have thought I'd suit a 50s lifestyle. They're wrong of course.
I simply appreciate the niceties. Effort. A man I can feel shaved before meeting me for dinner. A man I greet with a hug and detect a subtle scent. A proper haircut. Certainly shaved balls and cock. Do y'all know the sheer effort a woman goes through? The pretties take money and a whole lot of time and effort. It's a sign of respect to do so for each other. Heavens I love a man who wears a scent. Not overwhelming...I had to teach my sons that a half bottle of Axe is way way too much...LOL. But having a signature scent stays with a woman long after you are gone and fill her with longing to have you fill her senses again. I'm told I do that as well. I've had men just want to breath in my scent. If I like him, it's charming. If I don't, it's drives me mad.
I look proper, but I'm a non conformist at heart. I've always been such. But I recognize the value of fitting in and working within the social constructs we have. Then it that much more fun to take off the masks in the bedroom. I crave going very deep and yes, even rather dirty. I want to push my partner til he loses control and cums with a growl. It makes me laugh in triumph. And then we tuck in for pillow talk before we begin all over again...
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My dear friend, Darling Dom, sums up a phenomena I've experienced well. Instant relationship. Like instant cocoa...add hot water and stir. Now I've felt instant attraction. And I've certainly been infatuated. And sure, there are men I want quite desperately to feel skin-to-skin. But one I want to keep? Or even integrate into my life in time other than leisure? I expect one day I'll meet him. But it is more likely to grow from time than pop up overnight. The man I married I dated a decade first.
No one wants to grow old alone. Men are even more cognizant of this than women I think. As I woman I've spent my life building relationships. And for the past decade especially, I've been nurturing some and letting go of others that no longer bring mutual support and positivity into my life. Actually I let go more than I keep. A parent is a role model for better or worse. I've failed in some areas, especially in providing them an example of a healthy male/female relationship to guide them. And I've succeeded in others...trying hard to behave with grace under pressure, fierceness in protecting them and my few boundaries, humor, a sense of adventure, and knowing that my children will always know they are loved.
I know I won't grow old necessarily alone. But I'm also well aware that loss is a part of life and the future. And oh, I'm intimately familiar with loss. It's why I'm so empathetic. I get it. I've suffered betrayal and loss. I think I don't let it define me, but I am almost clinical in my analysis of the honesty & maturity levels of my partners. It doesn't mean I find a magical formula. It just means I keep trying to, one, not be a partner in the betrayal of another. And two, can live with myself. But yeah, I can be fooled and have. And when I am, I suffer.
I keep researching silly things on the web. "How old is too old to date?" Since as a mid aged woman, I'm finding the older men I've always found attractive have turned into old men. Now women are less visual than men, though chemistry is still a factor. But I've seen a drawing in, a narrowing of life and interests, of those perfectly nice old men I've met. But mine is all about expansion. Learning more, doing more, building a legacy. And I know my time will come when I step back into my comfort zone and necessarily slow. But it's not now. I am sure I am not so unique and there are men of whatever age who share my need for exploration and adventure. And yes darlings, sexually too...
I've been limiting myself sexually. The process seems more trouble than the reward as of late. There's so much expectation and pressure should I choose BC. He plans his weeks around my schedule and I can hear his disappointment when I say no. I think I hurt him a few nights ago...No, you masochist lurkers, not like you hope! He is very deliberate about his words. And far too zen. A friend of mine went through a very difficult time and I responded sharply to his platitude response. We are not suitable for what he wishes we could be to each other. And I think he quickly became all in because I was his unicorn, a woman who embraces a mans sexuality or bi'ness in his case. It's not bisexuality that gives me pause; in fact, I think an evolved man embraces all of his sexuality. But that he latched onto me without really seeing ME. I'm just a female who happened to fit this empty slot in his life. And that's not going to do for me. When I love, I love in entirety. And I give all I've got to it. But I know who my guy is, warts and all. And he gets and embraces me in turn. What that really means is he gets how girl-next-door and do-good I am. But he also loves my dark side and knows how important to me it is for him to love and give me opportunities to indulge that side.
Finding that guy, well it's a tall order.
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Whew...it's interesting. Just as my professional stress level decreases and I begin to realize I actually do know what I am doing after weeks of doubt, my personal stressors creep upward. I use how busy I am as a coping mechanism. I am still going through a very long divorce. It doesn't hurt me in a personal way or feel like a loss. I will grateful when this is done. But it is simply nerve-wracking to try to make my way in a world of attorneys, accountants, and power monger bureaucrats. It's not my world. And I don't the get the language or how nothing on the civil end of things has enforcement power behind it. Did I mention I used to be a rule follower? A believer in truth conquering all, justice, and good things coming to good people and karma to the other ones... But darlings, I've gotten fucked.
It's not the good kind of fucked that I truly need right now. And those who are supposed to be MY advocates are surprisingly ineffectual. Usually I can manage uncertainly as I'm oddly positive through it. I'm still grateful that my marriage when kaput. Otherwise I'd still be a largely humorless, sexless, drone keeping my promises and following the rules forever. Now I pay lip service to the rules, but seek those who are just as eager to toss the rulebook out the window as I.
My efforts and plans are paying off. I'm ready for this. As ready as one can be. And I have options. But change, even when welcome, is scary as hell. I hope and pray my children and I come out of this okay. And on many levels I know we will. But sometimes my inner scaredy cat unsheathes her claws and I feel fear. I used to live in fear. No darlings, I wasn't abused except perhaps emotionally. But it was a life of fear or famine. Stability...a great luxury I've forged a semblance of myself, but never had in my marriage. It's time for another of those meetings that leave me shaking in my boots because I know so little of this world of financial schedules and legal bullshit. But the best thing I've learned is to maintain control and say little. Of course I'll be a woman in a roomful of men. Now usually that would float my boat, but in this case it makes me feel out of my element. And dammit, I know better. I AM better. Well, I've changed the playing field where I could. Let's see what the boys have to say to that...
I need to fuck. And it's not like it's hard to find cock. Finding cock when I am free is more challenging. I read something in a man blog today about how unusual it would be to find a woman who has had more than 100 lovers. They weren't precisely endorsing slut shaming, but the notion that a woman who has more than say 6 to 30 at the upper end lovers seemed inconceivable and rare. I don't think it's all that rare. But then I grew into my sexually in the era pre HIV and we all know what college used to be like before that specter. Fortunately I was lucky. But I was sexually active for 15 years before I married. Monogamous or sexless for a bit more than a decade. And then...post marriage...finding what true O's are. And embracing pleasure...
I still am grateful for this site. Y'all know the list of fetishes you can check? Well the first time I ran across them, I had to look probably 70% of 'em up. Some were queasy making. Others I had to think about the mechanics of. I had a few "ewwww gross"moments. But often I found myself curious and pondering. As I still do. It's been awhile since I've dated kinky. I've met perfectly nice guys who pat me on the ass and think it's a paddling. And then I spank back and they gasp "holy sh*&." But it's been ages since I've been tied except for an offer to tie me up with a ribbon like a present. No...it's soft white rope I crave...the clothesline I was forbidden to play with as a child. Tied just enough so there's a little give in the rope for me shift and move feel like I could almost break free though of course that would be counterintuitive.
So cock...I crave cock incessantly. To be filled and penetrated and taken and made to take every inch of it. But getting to it is so damn fraught. The social dance. Or even the hookup dance. It takes the fun out of it. And truly I just want to have fun. That's why I've found men I have a history of sorts with ideal. Well except that there's usually a reason we aren't together.
I am a girl who WANTS an FWB. I start looking from that perspective. It's easy. Simple. No pressure. You'd think...but invariably the guys start pushing the L word. It's like a different universe as a mid aged woman with men who opening emotional vs the reverse when I was a 20 something. And oh, I meet the nicest men. And often the sex is damn good too. And they push for the relationship. I'm flattered and infatuated. And I go for it. Then 3, 6, 12 months later...I realize damnit. I don't love this lovely man. And I try. I believe I'll fall in love again eventually and it'll be beautiful. But I end up finding myself in a situation when he's more in than I am. (And this unused to be something I craved) But I hate hurting anyone.
I still think it's possible to have an amazing friendship with a man I get naked with. One where you say, I just need to fuck excessively for maybe 15 hours...you in? Or hey, I'm getting outta town for bit, wanna meet up in my jacuzzi room and be very very naughty? Or hell, I have two hours, a freshly shaved soft as silk puss....wanna be breakfast?
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Today I felt inept, wrong and embarrassed. I'm plenty wrong about things. And occasionally feel inept since I'm still learning complex tasks. But embarrassed is a sensation I thought I let go of long long ago. I laugh at myself all the time. But today I was thrust into a very complicated public role. And quite frankly, I wasn't quite up the task despite my preparation. I rolled with it. And there were occasional moments of clarity and capability. But my oh my...I cried like the teen girl I my whole drive home. And berated myself for being an idiot. And essentially just went in search of a rock to crawl under and lick my wounds.
I didn't though. I reached out to my girls, my cohorts and told them how completely idiotic I felt. And they, beautiful women, told me how those who were supposed to participate didn't and left me to hold the bag, having to take on their roles and my own. And when it turned into a roomful of people, many of whom I'd never seen before in a situation I'd never experienced, it was up to me to figure it out.
I did okay. Not great. I thought I had the potential for great in me. But it wasn't today. Yet I berate myself. Then my cohorts started goofing off and sending me ridiculous pics to make me laugh. Thank god for them. And for a few sweet words. Thank heavens I grew up and learned how not to stay in that state.
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I couldn't help but slip back into self pity now and then all evening. Came home and relieved stress the way I do. But damn it would be a good night to fuck or simply get fucked up. But I didn't. There's more to do. But tomorrow will be soon enough to start. Thank heavens for those who care.
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When there's more to do than can be done, it's hard to maintain equilibrium. These are the times I crave sex to ground me. There's nothing more base and real than pure fucking. I say I'm not a romantic. I find romantic gestures disingenuous. So often they occur early in a relationship, too early for a partner to truly know me. Love then is more an impression they have formed rather than anything to do with me. And as I meet older men who understand how difficult it is to find both kismet and lives that can intermesh, I trust early expression of emotion less. There's something more REAL about a heartfelt "I really LIKE you". Than hearing I love yous on date two. See, I have the idea that I can fuck and be really good friend to a partner. Activities, dinner, road trip meets...laughter. And go off to the bedroom and be fun and silly and totally open and receptive to each other. Yeah, there would still be the do I leave after he cums or spend the night iffiness to it. And heaven knows whether to be mannerly and do breakfast or not could be awkward. But I just think there could be this warm welcoming real friendship with the guy I choose to fuck.
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Thank you darlings for your input. I'm craving some input of my own. The hard thick kind of input that makes me scream and beg for more. So I've been bad. And it feels so damn good to be bad again. I worked my ass off today so I could fuck a particularly fine thick cock. He knows I like surprises. And as he's more nurturing that I, he started with a beautiful massage. On occasion I would let my hand drop to slide along his hardening cock as he made his way around the massage table. The surprise? A perfectly lovely long vibe penetrating me next to his cock. I've never met a man who could stay hard with vibration but I have now. Can you imagine how impossibly hot and utterly full a sensation it was? I had to remind myself to breathe. For a perfectly respectable girl, I'm certainly not at all behind closed doors. I begged the man to keep fucking me. Grabbed him by the back of his neck and kissed him hard, growing "more" into his ear. It feels damn good to fuck and be fucked again. I need to do more of this.
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So 50% of men over 50 at some point have erectile dysfunction. Hey, it happens to women too...the mind is there but the body doesn't always follow. My question is guys? What is the best way for a woman to handle it/what to say if she's given it a good try (Bj and all) and you're taken care of her best you can? It is stop and cuddle time? Or "hey, let's come back to this later?" Or if it's a hookup, just get dressed and go? You tell me.
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I am not a romantic girl. Valentines makes me shake my head and say "please don't." Going out for a prix fixe V day dinner when I know kitchens are all in the weeds and not at their best...nope. Balloons, cute little bears, heart shaped doo dads...please no. And I can't bear red roses unless they're growing wild. Okay...well...maybe those heart shaped boxes of chocolates. I like boxes but not the chocolates. Now if that box was filled with nipple clamps and a vibrating cock ring, then we can talk...
I'm guilty of buying those chocolates myself. Nothing makes a child smile bigger then coming to breakfast to find a heart box in his/her place. And even teens hug their mamas on a day that begins like that. I observe the more commercial holidays in small ways since I still have children in the house and it matters to them. But boy, oh boy, this one just seems to create expectation and pressure.
I was wiser and more economically minded this year. No more hand made local chocolates when the Rite Aid will do. A row of men lined the card aisle, some in work boots and a sweatshirt, some in suits...all looked pensive as they kept pulling, reading, and replacing cards. I never really looked at it from their point of view before. But having been married, I know what it is to be a woman with expectations that she won't voice. The guy tries but somehow falls short because frankly, we women can be mean as hell and not very appreciative if you can't read our minds. I thank heaven I'm past that. I FELT for these guys and the pressure compelling them to try, knowing that half the time they're not going to be appreciated for what they did do but vocally reprimanded with sighs for what they didn't.
Ladies, cut them a break. Relationships are filled with ambivalence. That I know only too well. We love them at the same time we can barely stand him. And if you stayed in for the duration and are married, even if your relationship sucks...cut each other a break today and say thank you with a smile. Then tuck whatever hideous pink/purple/red thing your guy gave to you, poorly or unwrapped, in a drawer. And remember it's hard for him too to keep trying but he did.
I heard from CW last night. I've not seen him for a few months, unusual since we are both locals. But the night before V day, all us singletons can get a bit maudlin and reach out. Scotch on his part also did the trick. He's a dear friend. And a rough fuck which I enjoy from time to time. And he worries about me since he's one of the few who knows all the players in the drama of my legal action. He needn't. But I like that SOMEONE feels protective of me. I miss having my Gran who would take on all for her granddaughter. Fierce old lady. I love the fierce ones...So as far right and blustery as CW gets, I appreciate him looking out for me. And being one I can bounce the business of my life off of. He's a pretty good rough fuck too, but I need a proper date at present and a guy to treat me like a lady before I let him treat me otherwise.
BC is still around, looking for BBCs for he and I to share. The idea of it sounds appealing when I'm horny, masturbaing 2 + times a day and need stress relief. But then getting to it invariably I find the process a turn off. My sexual bucket list doesn't have a lot on it. Food play. DP. DV. And a new one...I want to fuck a drummer and use his drumsticks, mallets, or brushes as part of impact and sensation play. But all are a bit complex and take planning I suppose. It's just...the idea is so often better than the reality. It's fun and it's good. But I am left generally feeling empty and untouched at the level I want. He is convinced of the L word with me and it makes me avoid him. Too much, too soon and too much pressure.
When I say "I love you" it is deeply meaningful. And while it comes easily when I am with my family, it comes less so with a significant other. I'm not a romantic. The closest I get is pillow talk and affection after fucking. It bothers me when "I love you" is used as a valediction. The more one throws the phase out there, the more it dilutes meaning for me. And that bugs me in someone I'm considering for more. When I say it, it's pure and in the moment and real.
I should find a way to fuck soon. But these days, finishing work and having time to just BE is just about as satisfying as a few great big O's. I chose to spend my V day making my children smile and taking time to visit an old friend who is back home from nearly a month in the hospital. He's about 85 and like me, he has suffered loss. But he & his wife never had children and his family has passed. But the man is a fixture in the community. And such a good man. He was adopted by a family of quakers, was a hell raiser in his youth, but found his way through college and served his country. He never forgot those who helped him along. And has sought to help others along as he could in his life. The result is a man with no blood relatives but a neighborhood of family. He is loved and revered the way we don't usually do in our country. So he's blessed even though he is still alone. It's not easy for me to find time but for this guy...I come into contact with quite a few elderly people in my work at times. And to me they are all my grandmother and it's my opportunity to give to them what I couldn't to her living so far away.
It's simple. Listen to their stories. Be an appreciative audience. Show up. Bring something little. A tiny box of truffles. Lasagne & turkey meatballs from the Italian deli. Or a real chicken pot pie for a cold night. A magazine. Or just bring yourself. Lean forward. Ask questions. And even better ask advice. They've lived longer and seen more than I have. And the ways of people really don't change much. I only hope someone listens to me and gives me hug when I'm a little old lady.
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I read my last entry and ugh, I sound like a brat. But I'm going to leave it up to remind myself just of that. I'm stressed, horny & venting.
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I'm going to complain for a bit and sound like a beyotch so stop reading now if you'd like to avoid it.
My libido is in overdrive as usual. I wake early to give myself enough time for penetration w/ a toy before I start my day. Problem is I can't cum from masturbation much. It's calming and I love the feeling of fullness, but it's a poor substitute.
Perhaps I've been spoiled by the parties I attended over the year. Multiple cocks are so fabulous. And I crave that level of attention and pushing my boundaries beyond what I thought I could take. Now I know there's BC and his lovely big cock. And he's open to indulging me. That works and doesn't for me. Given my desire to explore, it's great. Yet I'm still old fashioned enough to wish to be utterly possessed sexually by one man.
BC is available. And I wanted to fuck today quite a lot. But I find myself avoiding him and feeling pressured. The pressure is my own perception. I said I wanted a man who wants me more than I want him. And that is what I've gotten. But...I know I fill a role for him and I don't think he really sees me as an individual. Ultimately we are incompatible in our approaches to family, finance, spiritually, and goals. We are both positive and kind people (he is def more kind than I) and share a similar libido.
Our age difference is significant. I've dated men a decade plus older than I before and I enjoy them. But I'm 51 and middle aged. Ten years older is old. I've got crow's feet when I smile and I've lost an 3/4 " in height. But I'm moving fast and have no intention of retirement or slowing down until I have to. He still works some but his life is a bit too quiet for me. So okay I'll say it, I'm bored. I want to explore and he's trying to indulge me there sexually. But it's how I live, not just sexually. When I have time I want to go to do or see something I haven't seen before.
He did mention Paris but without intent. He seems enthralled with the place. I've been several times and I really don't like Paris. But then I've done enough cities to last me. I've found my niche is to find a neighborhood, a smallish town with charm and decent services on fresh or salt water. I explore and dine and talk to people and learn how locals live. And I try it out for size. My work will give me the ability to work mobile now and then. I crave to live like a local in small seaside towns, the FL keys, gentile little cities, and mountain stream side towns. There's too much still to try out. And I am not so set in my ways except in how I wish to treat others and be treated back.
We tried a bi guy sort of, BC & I. A threesome. I crave to try DP/DV. It wasn't the most successful experience for me. Mostly because I didnt' get what I wanted. But it was certainly not bad. The invitee had a great time. But ugh...I'm losing interest in exploring the bi male mentality. It doesn't phase me and I encourage those who desire it to keep exploring. But I'm finding so many bi guys are married and lie about it. And then there's a component of those who lean more towards men than women who find a woman's vagina grotesque. I'd thought BCs bi friends would be fun and open. But instead they seem judgemental and dysfunctional. It's the first time I've felt judged by my status as a straight woman. And you know what? I don't need to take that.
BC wants me there but then doesn't seem to sleep when I am. He is not remotely kinky. I keep swallowing my words. About his diet which is filled with carcinogen filled smoked meats and cheese. I appreaciate the same but for him it's a staple over a treat. He is overly careful when he walks, with his words, and in his approach to me. Or he is over the top and makes me uncomfortable. Because he is so in and I am less so I've become more distant and tell him less of how I really feel because most of them it is the direct opposite of his views. Or I do and then drop it because there is no agreement. Two people certainly don't have to agree, but he's thinking I'm his long term life changer. And I'm not. To me he's someone I enjoy and hope to have as a friend.
So I find myself again in the same place I was with CW...wishing we could be FWB. Simple. Mutual needs. Fun. There when the other needed a friend. But damn it's hard to tell a guy that when you know it's not what he wants.
I'm 51 and I know what I want. A social friend. A companion. Lots of sex. And a sounding board support for each other. But I certainly don't want marriage. And I don't want to take care of anyone else. And I want someone who wants to DO and explore. It gets tricky when you're pretty happy as is and your life is progressing rather than slowing. I'm actually thinking of younger. Below 40 younger. 20s is ridiculous, but someone who is working towards goals and who relishes the time to let loose and get me like I can get him. Plus there's the sexual potency of younger men.
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I heard from Franco, my protector from parties I formerly attended prior to BC. I'm told I'm missed. I can keep a room laughing when the stars align for me. It surprises me still as I'm naturally an introvert and shy. I know, I know...how can that be when I talk of all and sundry here? But frankly, people exhaust rather than energize me. And I begin to crave alone time. My restorative time is solo.
I was pretty enough in my youth to attract attention. And although I crave it on one level, it also is very uncomfortable for me. Sexually I lose myself and am very free. That's about the only time I feel ease at attention. But we can all learn skills, even social ones. Interacting with folks on the autism spectrum has taught me that. Maladaptive coping skills, social consciousness, emotional intelligence...all are teachable. Mind you it's not an easy learning process. But it can be done given time. With me i needed to develop skills fo help others I cared about. I give all I've got to those I love. And sometimes I'm driven to do it simply because there's a need and I can meet it. I'm compelled to nurture in that way.
But equally so I am protective of my self. I don't fall in love easily. And I sure don't trust many beyond myself. Some of that is a leftover from betrayal which plays a refrain through my life. I wish I were stronger and that loves who lied didn't change me. But here I am. Even with BC the other day, I noted 2 of everything in his dish drainer so he'd had someone to dinner and possibly fucked them. Is it true? IDK. But now I'm rather more vigilant. I'm looking for a reason to see him less as I become surer about our basic incompatibility, so that's part of it. And I don't think the man sees me for who I am, but more as his last ditch effort at a LTR.
Don't get me wrong. I enjoy him. I appreciate his positivity. And his nurturing nature. New in a male for me. Sexually there's great chemistry. But sexually I had great chemistry with more than a few guys. Admittedly, I don't have time for him. But what really tells the tale is that I don't want him here in my home. I don't want to share my bed. I'm happy to be at his place. But I feel no need to integrate him into my life more because he won't fit in. We have completely different politics, relationships with our respective children, and ideas about leisure. It extended to how we want to be perceived by the world.
Some folks are fine being out. I'm more private. I want to be perceived as a damn respectable girl next door with an occasionally wicked sense of humor and a do'er. My sexual exploits I share with y'all here and transparently with anyone I am sleeping with. But no one else needs to know unless my experiences can prove helpful. I prefer anonymity. To me, that's part of the appeal of going more colorful sexually. The freedom from conformity. And sharing that with a man who appreciates my utter respectability who finds it hot at how very sexual I am and how adventurous we want to go together.
There's great pleasure in walking around the next day and feeling soreness from impact play or hard fucking. Or shifting in my seat so my bra doesn't press so hard on tender nipples. And of course, in a monogamous relationship feeling his cum leak from me and coat my thighs when I'm sitting at my desk. And then there's pillow talk. I'm a tremendous fan.
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I made time midday today to see BC. He is a skilled masseuse, so he invited me for table time and quite frankly I needed more therapeutic touch than otherwise. Though I knew we'd get to the "otherwise" as well. The man does put forth effort. He keeps his house colder than I like so he warms it before I came. And the massage room was so warm that I WANTED to take off my clothes. Clever man.
He kept his jeans on. And when I asked him why he said I'm less distracting when he keeps his pants on and he can stay in therapeutic mode. That makes me grin...I needed some hands on. The usual places I hold my tension have shifted with a new work space and different furniture that is far from ergonomically correct. But you make do with what you must.
When he began to get more intimate I reached for his cock. I remain inordinately pleased when I hug a man or brush by and he's rock hard. He eventually unzipped for me as I could have lazily stroked him from the table for a long time and I think his libido began to kick into gear. I am always surprised by his cock. Invariably when I haven't seen him for a time, it feels bigger, thicker and girthier than I remembered. Is it naughty to want to spend time with him primarily for his cock?
He's good. And I went a long time controlling my o's but then moisture just began to seep from me, o or not. And I figured if I'm going to get messy anyway, I might as well let myself cum. He pushed me and I encouraged him back. So much so that I screamed so loud one of the neighbors might have heard. It came on me that fast and that sudden He gets a kick out of my response. I'm not a quiet girl in bed. And I'm vocal and naughty. I'll beg for more and to be pushed. And to be made to take all her has. And that's just what he did.
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A proper date this evening. And with BC no less. I could manage a couple of hours this week for him, tha's all. And suggested he come local to me. Thai and red wine and conversation though it felt awkward at first as I find much of his conversation self aggrandizing. "When I led...". "In Thailand...". "You know...". "Yes, when I...". Too many "i"s. But then look at me here spilling my self indulgent journaling thoughts...purely subjective even though I may try to sound more factual by throiwing in the occasional big world or two. I'm just as full of hot air and ego as he is at time. I'm certainly quite self focused about what I need to do, what I want, and who I choose to give my time to.
It was nice though. A proper dinner date. I love such things. Even with new guys. The conversation and leisure and oral satisfaction works in combination to leave one warm and relaxed. Even without the cock part. I assured him we'll get to that eventually and when I do let loose, it'll be to excess. Buy oh, it was nice driving hone though my old neighborhood which is a little less frou frou than the towns closer to mine. I took the beach drive home and the road wa empty, all the venues closed for the season. But instead of seeming bereft, it was peaceful and quite quite beautiful even with the mist creeping in.
I couldn't wait to get out the stockings and heels and bra. I keep on my war paint with the vague thought that perhaps I'd FaceTime an old interest. But I won't. Pj's and my Mr. Roger's cardigan I change into when the house is a bit chill downstairs. Candles lit ont he coffee table steamer trunk. I moved the fancy candle holders from the dining room in to light the leftover beeswax tapers from the holiday since they just sit and gather dust with no one dining more formally these days. And it's beautiful. I've left up some color and my desk has a bouquet the cats haven't eaten yet. And now my big Tom cat has tucked himself against my hip, purring and snoring in the same breath and warming me. Petting him, he feels as soft as a bunny. But a vegetarian he is not...I appreciate fierce creatures who can love deeply at the same time. Rather like my daughter. And occasionally myself.
My children popped in before I left with electronics for me to fix. I have some skills, but mostly I call my techie god friend after not being successful with the message boards. But I am determined to find the solution to this one myself. Making things better and fixing things is part of my calling as a parent. Though sometimes I have to restrain myself to give my children learning opportunities from the consequences they bear.
I'm enjoying my home more than usual. Generally around now, without traveling, I get cabin fevery. It sure would be fabulous to be somewhere green and warm. But this is cozy. It's the first winter in a long time I've had reliable heat. This new boiler is really a gift.
Has I less to do, I'd want to get naked. But I'm saving it as a reward. I'm making myself earn my pleasures. I'm a girl who needs to be motivated and nothing motivates me quite so much as cock. So best get back at it and wash off my war paint.
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It's back to back due dates and pressures. In many ways I think I'm better when there's so much to be done. Certainly mine is a mind best occupied or it will find nonsense to occupy itself with. I feel some guilt as I know I've caused BC to feel like he's not a priority. Having fought to be a priority for too many years myself in my marriage, I regret being the cause of anyone else feeling the same way. But what I do now secures my children and my own futures. It is necessary. And it is a choice I must follow though on. There will be time again, but the next 10 weeks at least will require take out meals, girding my perfectionist tendencies and letting the dust accumulate, and the time I do have focused on my family. We all get it. I'm very close to a goal I've been working on for years and I'm not going to let anyone or anything screw it up, especially myself.
Sex is on the back burner. Odd for me given my view of o's as necessary for stress release. But health wise, my family has all been ill over the past weeks. And I've had some challenges of my own. But then I'm of the age when hormonal shifts occur. And certainly this is one of those times. I finally started bleeding today and these days it's like saying hello to an old, if sometimes inconvenient friend. But generally it's with relief when my period appears. I grow teary prior. And during. Not so much sadness, though I do want more space and peace. And am certainly reactive. But physicallly I just find myself weeping. It would be crazy making if I didn't have the empirical evidence of my cycle to say, "Oh, THAT's it!" Some how bleeding for a week validates those emotions and their physical symptoms that otherwise leave me wondering what the hell is going on with me.
Quite a few men tell me they "don't mind" period sex. Admittedly I can be extremely horny during. But I don't want to do the laundry. And truly it's just not as much fun. O's are not really o's. Moisture isn't really cumming. And my sensitivity instead of being arousing, is more uncomfortable. I want to be with easy people. Those without excessive expectation. Like my family. Who understand when I say I need some time in my chair with heat and massage and would someone please make me a cuppa tea? And like this weekend, a quiet house with sleeping cats who tuck up to me the minute I am accessible, purring loud enough to fill the room. My big old Tom cat is truly a wonderful creature. And even one of the females waits for me. I comfort them for the loss of their favored children on these weekends away. And they know instinctively when I need them.
I'm tactile. When I'm with a man I stroke him incessantly. And he feels adored. I need to touch. Whether it's here with keys and a touch screen, or folding laundry, or stroking a purring cat. I seek sensation and restfulness. And right now I seek privacy too. For weeks things have gotten in the way with BC and I. I've made efforts. But I'll admit I also want the break for more reasons apart from the lack of time I have.
He's really a lovely man. But he feel for me too quick and too deep. His compliments are overkill. I feel like he has no idea who I really am. And our interaction these months have been largely in a bubble. It's all sex and a little food and the occasional dinner guests. And that's great stuff. But darlings I'm bored. The bi party was a good time out, but it was meaningless. Just sex and an opportunity for him to express himself without fear I would reject him for such interests. But I seek adventure. And yeah, I get bored as all get out without switching things up now and then.
The thought of the same ole same ole leaves me dreading getting together. Even though the same ole is quite nice. There's a world out there. I haven't much time for it at present. But when time grows shorter and even more precious, I get more careful how I spend it. Last weekend Ground For Sculpture had an amazing ice sculpture demo. Cold for sure. But omg, what a wonderful cool new experience for my family and I. Never seen anything like that before. And there's a world out there to experience more of. The thought of living every day the same way fills me with dread over satisfaction. I want a challenge. I can handle challenge. That's most of what I've had this past decade.
My damn debit card was compromised yesterday and I had to solve that today. My transmission blew two days before Christmas and I just got the car back Wednesday. My pipes froze. All of my children got sick. If it can go awry, it usually does in my life. The blessing there is that true tragedies are few and blips on the radar can be dealt with and move on from with little upset and more inconvenience. And I learn how to handle a boatload of sh*&. Always good to have skills I'm thinking. One of my oldest friends is in the hospital and I worry about him. My problems are fixable. I could use them happening less often. But it's not stuff like that which frustrates me. Incivility and disrespect frustrates me. And dishonesty. And now I'm preaching...
Half a bottle of wine. A mini steak. A mini peach pie. And a little baba ganoush. Candles lit. Sleeping cats. The good holiday linens still on my Hemingway table where I study. And a crazy cool bouquet of ginger blossoms and other tropicals since I cant go any place warm, I have to bring it to me. And solitude. And the LL Bean fleece sheets I got myself for Christmas last year on the bed so there's no need to steel yourself and catch your breath when you first slip into bed. It's cold and rainy and a nor'easter I'm told is headed this way this weekend. But all the shades are closed and the new boiler turned up. I even put a little oil radiant heater behind my chair to keep my little writing corner warm. It'll be a working weekend. But I am happy after my travels of last one to be here. I am beginning to crave being solo more than being a pair.
And okay, I'm gong to say it. Our 14 year difference that didn't seem like a big deal at first, is seeming more like a basic incompatibility. I find him too often resting on past laurels. I don't discuss what I've done, but what I'm DOING. But his life is very different. And I can still giggle after a few margaritas and run up the stairs daring him to chase me. But he won't chase as he's more deliberate in his movements at his age. So I'm beginning to understand the appeal of cougaring. The energy and joy surely. Of course it would likely be another guy who hasn't really DONE anything. I'm interested in how other interact with the world and others and how they live. And so few people seem to engage. It's more than positivity I seek now...it's an equal level of vibrancy. Energy. Joy. And ease.
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I'm told it will warm today. But at 17 degrees on my drive it doesn't seem possible it will hit 50. I left spigots open and streaming in my sink and claw foot last night to avoid a repeat of yesterday morning's $300 frozen pipe uh oh. Of course at my age it means more frequent nighttime visits to the bathroom as the sound of water made it's way through my dream state. And cats taking advantage of the tap in the clawfoot, the thump of cats jumping in and out of my tub all night has added to my temporary attention deficit and sleep deprivation. So I'm playing hooky here for a bit to clear my unfocused head. Naughty girl cyber shopping and journaling here.
I'm finding it hard to believe how long it is taking me to recover from the excesses BC and I partook of Saturday night and yesterday. Usually I bounce back quickly from sex, even an excess of it. I feel like a brat saying it, but a hung partner is a delightful thing. Though I'm not sure if it's my aging or his big cock that is responsible for the continued swelling at my core. He reaches deep. Taking him again yesterday after the half dozen times Saturday night into Sunday, I felt swollen in places that I don't recall ever feeling that sensation before. It's what i want of course. But I've always recovered so fast in the past. So this was a surprise.
Usually the swelling of my puss after a few extended sessions of play works to please both my partner and I. My sensation is all the more heightened as the walls of my puss hug his cock tight. And well...most cocks like a hug. But it was actually a bit tough to take yesterday. I did anyway. I did find I hurt last night. Tingling swollen southern parts, neck and shoulder sore from getting pounded so hard from behind, and my nipples aching. Even today I'm all too aware of the rub of my bra on nipples and wish I could have gone without. But I think even fabric would be stimulating.
The funny thing is that it's still exciting and makes me crave more. Even though I know taking it wouldn't be as good as the idea of it at present. My libido remains a low hum in the background. My mind needs more engagement to drown it out and let me focus on something other than my desire for cock.
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Truly it's always something. This morning some of the pipes were frozen. Given all my various plumbing and healting mishaps, you'd think I'd know what to do. But that's a new one for me. Fortunately they froze rather then burst. Several hundred dollars later, I'm thawed.
BC was feeling like I didn't want him here. He's half right. So I invited him to come by today for lunch. Did I mention I hate cooking? It was simple and I CAN cook, it's just I do it so much that I don't enjoy is as much. Two loads of dishes a day some days is just exhausting. I miss going out, which I love to do.
That's an element of the relationship that doesn't particularly work for me. I love his home and he's a fabulous chef. But even food and wine and sex can get a wee bit stultifying it that is what you do every time. A movie? Dinner out? A museum? Well we nearly did a museum but his idea of Spanish paintings and Asian art don't quite mesh with my tastes.
We have a different aesthetic. Now that shouldn't really matter after dating mostly men who wouldn't be caught dead in a museum. And we have very different politics. I've always thought myself apolitical. But I'm discovering a conservative core in response to his liberal views. I've friends on that side of the spectrum as well and usually I just stay silent. But I sense a common arrogance in attitude that sets my back up. Proclamations of how healthcare needs to be free and implications of care in this country being substandard. I don't find it substandard, but it is expensive. Ideas of discussing sex openly with hiis children only to find him backtracking as to what he meant was no substantive content. Discussion of how his wealthier friends enjoy him because he doesn't discuss money...though he mentions their money and clubs and how he helps them to everyone else.
He is intellectual. And disses those of us who are productive and focused on making money. While at the same time talking about how much one needs for retirement. He supports a son who is about to have another baby, so he can write a new age book. And encourages college majors in things like theatre and poly sci so more of us can join the ranks of indebted college grads who can't get jobs. I'm a pragmatist. And I value the people in my life more other achievements. But I also value resources. This is a world that takes resources to live in and to protect and care for your family. So yes, the man annoys the hell out of me.
He pontificates and has opintions about much, but what does he do? To me action is the true test of one's words.
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Mmmmmm....a good night. BC and I haven't been communicating particularly well so we had a tiff last night. Being snow bound in our respective homes didn't help the licentious weekend we'd planned. But eventually the plows came and I drove to him. I prefer his place on weekends. As I don't live alone and want to permit my family access whenever they need it to their home, it cramps one's style as far as screaming o's and orgies go here. He does live alone in his charming home, so I prefer there. I've always preferred a man's to host. My close friends tell me it's because I like to be the one to leave...
He's charming and hard to say mad at. He couldn't stop grinning to see me after he was mad as could be a few hours earlier. And quite frankly a man who sits me down at his table with margaritas and Mexican steak is impossible to not want to fuck. I'd hoped for rough and tumble make up sex, but he really doesn't do rough. He can fuck hard and deep, but loss of control happens rarely. Of course that makes me push his control even more. And there are times I get under his skin sexually and make him utterly needy to fuck me. To me, there's nothing hotter than a man who can think of nothing but getting inside of me...
And so he did. I'm sore and swollen and very happy about it. I can't even count how many times we fucked. He woke me up all night to slide back into me. I did wonder if viagra was a factor, but I don't think so. I was feeling enameled of his cock, a significant asset, and couldn't really stop caressing, massaging, and using my mouth on him. I had him buzzing to cum and on edge so many times. And a man who begs to fuck does wonders for a girl's ego.
I am surprised. Very much so. He's 14 years older than I. He offered to help me shovel snow. I told him a man his age shouldn't be shoveling snow. To which he grinned and shot back a "fuck you." We both laughed. Ha! Maybe it was a challenge. IDK, but I've never been fucked so long over and over again. He can only cum once in 24 hours but the man can get hard over and over again. Such a gift. I don't understand why it's so much fun for him to make me cum incessantly. I'd think he'd be done after making me cum a few times. But he wasn't. It's extraordinary.
So much fucking. I'm a pretty simple girl. I just like to fuck a great deal. And that is precisely what he gave me, then made me hydrate, tucked me in, holding me close and keeping me warm...until I felt his cock thickening again...I truly enjoy men who are this enthusiastic and kind.
A well fucked,
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I appear to be a rarity in the world of sexual swinging in my penchant for bisexual men. I know y'all straight men feel your asses tighten at the thought, but seeing bi men together has long been on my bucket list. There's something far more masculine and primal to two men together. They often don't need the softness of foreplay that most women need but get down to business. And heavens, they excel at sucking cock. I'm always looking for learning opportunities and men together is such a one.
I took BC to a bi party. He's been hesitant to share his bi side with me as it's proved a relationship ender in the past. The women he has dated always know he has been with men, as he is quite open about his bi nature. But I suppose knowing and seeing are different for some. I think watching him go sub has decreased his masculine appeal to women in the past. I understand dichotomy. Especially the need for those of us with a brain that is rarely quiet to go deep into a physical role. To feel so much that we cannot think. I adore that sensation. It's much like rope to me, absolute zen...
A bi party is new to me. I know some of the crowd. And like 'em. I'd hoped for men performing oral on each other. And maybe I thought I'd see a man being fucked for the first time. I did manage to see both...the latter I was too close to the action to get a good view, but it's lovely watching faces as people are fucked.
BC and I were fortunate as two of the bi men in particular were darlings. One had the biceps I adore stroking and a joyful open attitude. He had a particular fine ass that I caressed and complimented him on. Someone fucked him, but I was occupied at the time so I didn't get a great view. The other was a man out of uniform...you know the type and how vulnerable I am to the cop/military types. This guy was tall and not as fit, but such things don't matter as much to me as attitude. He did have the most beautiful thick cock in the place and BC secured him for me. I watched them do oral on each other without a qualm. It's was more a clinical interest as I remain fascinated at how much more cock they can each take orally. Far more than I... and I'm pretty good at it.
I thought I'd be more observer than participant. But that wasn't the case at all. There was a great deal of mutuality. And I so enjoyed watching BC. Not one qualm. IDK what the man expected. I enjoy watching people have sex regardless of whom they choose to do it with. It's fascinating. He asked me if I get turned on. It's not so much that with me. It's more a learning opportunity. I'm equally as fascinated to learn how other people live and manage. Sex is just a way fun social option we have...
I do appreciate having a protector of sorts. I am overly nice and don't always know how to say no to men I don't particularly want to fuck. BC can fill that role. He's a cock snob, but I suppose most bi men most definitely know what they want. He wants big. He is big. As I want the same, there is a mutuality to our desires. He has offered to extricate myself from my more nurturing nature when it come to fucking...and that is precisely what I need.
A good time...and I'd thought at the beginning of the night that I'd misplaced my libido...but it came right back like a boomerang.
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Well, IDK...things are going wrong right and left. I guess that always happens, but right now the amount of times I'm on the other end of it seems disproportionate. It's like a paperplate. The structure holds if don't pile too much on it. But add that proverbial straw and it all collapses. And I feel on the verge of collapse.
My instinct of course if to keep a low profile. Stay home. Wait for it to pass as if it were a storm cloud following me around.
I seem to have misplaced my libido as well. I"m finding BC's references to sex and his cock silly over hot. In the midst of yesterdays mess when my car broke down and I'd of course forgotten my cell phone (which ONLY happens when I really really need it), he wasn't my go to. It was CW. Now he wasn't around either, but I knew he has my back still as I do his. We are friends. And both usually very capable people. But at present I don't feel very capable.
Though I suppose I am. I have backups. AAA for the car. So at least it could be towed. Even with the extra miles, I could manage it. I'd paid all my bills the night before. Feeling a bit easier that I'm managing to pull off Christmas and be responsible. It leaves me with little at present with still expenses ahead. And I figured I'd make it. But now I have a a heaven knows how big car repair ahead. My hope is that I can drive the rental they got for me (after I dissolved in tears) into the new year as I'm as certain as a non-mechanical girl can be that it's the transmission. And hopefully covered under the power train warranty.
I know these are fixable problems. And there are many out there who have issues without a fix. If I think about personal concerns, I am often overwhelmed. I see what can go wrong. It's always been a particular crazy-making skill of mine. It took me a long time to find a profession that I can channel that into. And even longer to learn to compartmentalize and stop seeing everything that could happen but hasn't in my personal domain.
Part of my problem is that things so often go wrong that I expect it. I wonder though if it's a self fulfilling prophecy and I attract fucked up situations. I certainly attract complicated. And for a simple woman I do complicated well...until it gets TOO complicated and I want simple.
I managed at last to light the tree that has sat dark for 3 weeks. The cats thought it was a present for them. Of course I waited very late and half my lights were burnt out, but I'd remembered the new pharmacy was still stocked with white lights. The tend to go extinct this close to Christmas. I managed to wrap enough. And calm my fears that my children didn't receive equal quantity and quality of presents. It's balanced enough. And the one with fewer understands that one of his gifts was a bigger investment so he has less in quantity.
I haven't enjoyed it. Usually I do. And put lights outside and it's just happy. I'm pissed at myself that my positivity has taken a nosedive and that my emotions are just messed up. I have children in the house and it's christmas. That's the best of times. And they're nice and grateful people. And here I am the grumpiest grump... I think on holidays the pressure, financial and otherwise, of having to make it all happen as a single parent just get to you. There's a refrain in my head of how unfair it all is. Thought unfair isn't the right word.
I know it's good. I was able to figure it out and make it happen after several months of worry. There's even a few special food items to make holiday dinner. Not what my son wanted, but he's a flexible kid and they all know what things cost. And I'm on track.
I think that we have these images of what the holiday is or is supposed to be. Whether it's media or reading too many books, I buy into the old fashioned family coming together of hope and tradition. Most of us know our families arent' so retro wholesome perfection. Mine's kind of close since I am old fashioned in most areas other than sex. Well some of the time we get close. Other times I'm a screaming banshee...
But right now I'm just emotional and blue and feeling a little overwhelmed. It's all on me. And I'm capable. But I'm just so damn tired. Bone weary and sad.
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Do right. I'm going to keep trying to do so. Part of my conception of doing right in my life it to maintain transparency with intimates. I do believe you get what you give even if it doesn't seem to apply with my ex. Although if I'm truthful, even when I'm trying to be respectful and kind to him, I'm still finding the man contemptible. And I got to that point when I was married to him too. That's not good for anyone. But I get tired of pretending. And I feel like I have a team behind me when those who know me and the history most reiterate what an asshole the man is. Because truly, so often, the craziness of his actions and reactions simply make no sense.
I don't think I can be kind to him at present given the manipulations he uses to try to control me. But I don't have to engage. I can just keep my distance beautifully. One word of advice was to grin and laugh when he throws his monkey wrenches into my life where he will.
I am going to manage to pull of a very expensive month with Christmas, even with my cutbacks. I paid my bills today. And got my leaky tires fixed. And though next week may be tricky, my little family and I will manage. It's a great relief. Time is still a limited resource, but that too will change for a wee bit.
I've found myself less sexual. I was stressed as hell over the weekend with a big deadline Monday. But it's over and there's less on the horizon for a bit. And though I didn't perform with excellence, I did perform good enough. Think a B versus and A. And good enough in this world and showing up get you ahead in most of the silly games one is compelled to play. Now for an equally good enough Christmas weekend. Simple is going to be the key. And no fancy food like it used to be unless Acme puts something ridiculously on sale.
But I'm listening to what I've learned for folks here about living simpler. The box store I hate far less now that I get how much I get for the money and how long my larder stays full. I've also found a new fresh wonderful cheap Chinese takeout that is replacing my fancy pan Asian or Thai takeouts. Watching them make hot and sour soup with fresh grilled ingredients was an eye opener...and I could live on that alone...
BOGOs are smart at Acme in the meat department. And fish! I've pounds and pounds from the children's trips. So we will manage just fine when funds get thin. There's stress ahead and I have to try not to think about it quite yet. Not until I have the full picture. January may have me scrambling.
Sex is less a focus at present while details are. But BC and I have a date soon. I've cancelled on him twice and he's handled it well enough. I've actually grown fairly satisfied with my toys now that I've added ass plugs to the mix. I still have that DP fantasy but it takes training to indulge such things and that's what I will hopefully aim for soonish. The new year has always been a time for me to indulge my fantasies. And somehow Jan/Feb has always been a time I've met rather wonderful partners. Whether that will be with BC or not remains to be seen.
I put things I can't have out of mind. Compartmentalizing was difficult for me to learn, but learn I did. That includes cock. Or men I've wanted and couldn't have. Or men who were temporarily unavailable as BC was in his traveling. But then I'm unavailable too. And he's far more romantic in his conversation than I. I'm all about action with him. But then he's all zen. And I'm pragmatic and earthy. His truisms seem contrived to me often. And I want real more than vague spiritual advice.
I live to experience new things. It could be cock. It could be kink. It could be a new restaurant or museum. Or it could be hearing music I've never heard before. The thing it all has in common is that it makes me step out of my comfort zone. It's hard. But in doing so I feel alive, my brain feels free, and I just grin all the time. Quite frankly, that's how I want to live. And I admit it, I do get bored by the same ole. So it's time to push a few limits. Maybe some of 'em will be sexal. And than I'll have a lot to say here...
Be well people. And be warm. I have heat! And I'm so grateful.
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I am trying to model better behavior than that of my ex is towards me. I tell my children, just because someone treats you poorly doen't mean you should do it back. Though really the high road chafes. I'm really far more the down and dirty street chick of my youth, even though I ended up living in Mayberry. Roles placed on me by others and conformity bug the hell out of. But when one has children, and you want them to have friends, well...you learn to fit yourself into he necessary social contructs.
Today I struggled hard to stay positive. Technology failed me. Shit rained down from the ex. And one of my children has far too much testosterone coursing through him at present to be respectful to me for long. And that, disrespect, is my kryptonite. I go from 0 to 60 in seconds and am itching for a fight. I can tamp it down and have a few personal protocols I follow. Like not responding to my ex for 24 hours.
Now here's the kicker. My ex's car breaks down outside of my home a few days ago. I should've left him cursing at the curb. But in the effort to do...oh, IDK what...model kindness to my children...I go help him. He started disrespectful. I held my phone above my head and told him I certainly didn't have to help him if he would like to continue. An apology and so I made a call. And yes, the man did say thank you.
But then it's back to biz as usual. I need to learn to do right because that's how I want to live. But not to expect others to share my code or to reciprocate. I do expect the best of people much of the time. Expecting the worse, most will sink to that. So I try to believe in better things. But I wonder if Pollyanna'ing it is serving me well.
I do know this. I am happier. And I don't take the bullshit shoveled back at me personally. It still pisses me off. But I can get past it. I simply refuse to give anyone else that sort of power over me. I wonder if I should change my status from "switch" to "Domme." I can, at very few times, be vulnerable. But I rarely let others tell me what to do for long. Though I ask those who know more than I in their areas of expertise plenty of questions.
I suppose I don't mind taking on a submissive role sexually. A slap or two on the ass I barely notice. A little pain, well, I get the endorphin rush. But giving and receiving pain is less what I'm about unless it is what a partner needs. I'm about personal growth, mine and my partners. And adventure.
Oh I need some adventure....
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I'm feeling closer to BC and grateful. I've sought in recent years to indulge what I've called "my bad girl side." Really it's self judgement in using "bad." It's simply I want to be sexual. Basic. Real. And nothing bad about it at all. But I still retain a few of that good girl training from when back when it was "bad" to not be a virgin, to feel desire, to want a cock, or hell...to want a guy beyond thought. These days it's not a guy I want so much as the fucking. Though I am very connected to BC and certainly desire him.
I took him to a party. Hosted by a man I know who has his charms and is bisexual, though that was not evident at the party I attended. I expect after we left things might have taken a distinctly masculine turn. I hadn't planned on it. But I was home, feeling better, and with blessed time to simply be a woman. And quite frankly, as an over 50 woman in her age of invisibility, I wanted a bit of attention. So on with the pretties and stockings and off for a drive.
BC did reach out with a text. Our original plans to get together had changed and I simply knew I needed more last night. But he didn't text until I was already on the road. I told him I was on my way to watch people have sex. And if he wanted to join me, he could. When we returned to his place later, I saw he'd left his bourbon undrunk, clothes and shoes higgly piggly all over the floor, half eaten dinner place on the side table. In his perfect house it was clear just how eager he was to join me. And oh, I enjoyed seeing a mess. When I asked him, his response was unequivocally positive. He said "If I get time with you, I will always say yes..." Now that is a lovely response.
So despite my notes on protocols to get straight and rules of engagement (as much as I hate rules), we just went and did it without much negotiation. I did ask him if it was okay if I indulged in other cocks. One or more or whatnot. And he refused to put any limits on me. Clever man. I just asked that he cover the admittance. He is a classy guy and that I enjoy. Though he definitely dresses better than most straight men I know...
Y'all want me to get to the good part...and it was good. Shades of cuck, but not. As BC is socially adept and open and willing whereas cuck put all the responsibility on me to get him where he wanted to go. And I wouldn't in the end take him there. I don't think cuck will ever be joyful or completely happy. I did love him very much for a time. But I think in retrospect, that relationship was preparing me for this one. Cuck was the first to celebrate my sexual side. And encourage me. But like many of my relationships in the past, my libido became a performance pressure for him. I hope that doesn't happen with BC, but it might. The man is remarkably sexual at his age; even though he is in his 60s and I know better, he never fails to surprise me. His knowledge of my body and my orgasm cycle astonishes me. He said this morning when I asked him why he continues even after I cum that he knew I hadn't finished riding that orgasm wave. And the man was right.
I cum a lot. Big o's, little o's, g spot o's, a few clitoral o's, squirting o's, non squirting o's, o's from breast stimulation, and my new favorite...post sex aftershock o's...and btw, I fucked two BBCs, lovely men, last night. And for a bi guy who knows cock, even BC admitted these were extraordinary. One so thick I could barely get my mouth around him. Exquisite grooming. Exquisite texture. Just a work of art. And the other young and impossible hard. The latter was harder to take. Cocks that hard and long bottom out. And I beg for it all, even though I know better. But I'm a greedy one in the midst of fucking. And vocal. I beg to be made to take every inch...and generally that's what I get. Grin.
The whole time, BC, held me. I actually started with showing off his cock. He's beautifully endowed. And one of the few men in the room who felt comfortable with his own proportions given the two BBCs. That I admire. He is secure in himself. Mostly. He was darling. As were the BBCs. Then a rather beautiful bi man, joined us on the bed to give my breasts some attention and my clit. I think really he was more interested in getting a closer look at the BBCs, but he was charming enough to do it well...beautiful man. BC was fun too, he can generally tell if a man has been fucked. So our conversation over who likely is and who likely is not was delightful.
Still I got insecure post. He knew I would and insisted we talk in my car before driving the 30 mins or so to his house as we'd traveled there separately. I got tears in my eyes, wondering if he saw me differently or worst or as a slut. Now "slut" may apply but I wish there were a less pejorative term. I prefer "ethical slut" like the book of the same name. But what I choose to do is open and I do believe in transparency with my partners, even when it is hard. BC was supportive. And I was grateful. We spent the night in each others arms, he fucked me silly, and we got to be each other's alarm clock. And I left feeling reassured and grateful.
It is a wonderful thing to feel accepted completely and not caged in. Now we'll see of course how well I handle it should he want to indulge. Though this far I've only encouraged him to as long as I can share it with him. But I think I would have difficulty sharing him with a woman. IDK though. I realized I'm attracted to one of my cohorts just the other day as we walked out and I found myself checking out her ass. Now she's young and positive and caring and african american. Her skin glows. I don't know if I have an attraction to other races necessarily, though I'm a sucker for BBC. But the only two women in recent memory I have been somewhat enthralled with have been black, young, wholesome, positive, and completely themselves. Rounder bodies, full busts and hips, but not anything I'd consider BBW. Yet decidedly not thin. Beautiful and womanly and able to tell it like it is. I don't if it's attraction or admiration. But there's an appeal for sure.
Tonight I miss the man. And I'm going to for once permit myself to miss a man. Usually I shut it down. But his heat and love and knowledge of me are such good things. And he celebrates and wants all of me. He can't have it all, but oh my...there's something fabulous here.
Pen
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I really wanted a curry night up north with Darling Dom this evening, but I've been ill. And remain so. Thank heavens for frozen tikka masala and samosas. Not the same, and I miss the company, but a little spice can only help me fight this upper respiratory infection that has laid me low. I've done nothing BUT rest and it's still hanging on though I knew it was flirting with my immune system for weeks. Tomorrow I have to put in an appearance no matter what so lets hope I manage it.
BC invited Darling Dom to join us for dinner at his place. He is a charmer. IDK if meeting the bi man I'm dating gives all the straight men in my life heebie jeebies or not, but they've got to feel some hesitation I'd think. Not that being bi means he's going to make a pass at everyone of any sex...but for those of us unfamiliar with bi culture, myself included, it's a thought that passes thru our heads...It likely won't happen in any case as I expect to still be under the weather but it was kind of BC all the same.
He's also invited me to bring the chidlren for dinner. To that I said no. Three months of dating is just that. And as interesting as his house and conversation is, there is no need to involve my family unless I decided it's serious and he may be around for awhile. It is a connection and a good one. But there are still too many unknowns. I've yet to see his bi side in action and that will be necessary for growth. Men who cannot be transparent, even when it's hard, do not have the self acceptance and maturity level I need. I'm not okay with half a person in a relationship. Now if it's just fucking...well, a decent cock, some stamina, and a wee bit of charm are all it takes.
I hadn't looked for nor wanted this level of connection. But given our surprising similarities, it seemed worth exploring. And I am drawn to new experiences. This is certainly that.
There are things about BC that annoy. As I am sure there are things about me that do the same. He IS pedantic and talks too much at times. And he is not as pragmatic as I. He is a romantic which I, as a woman, should love. His flowers, I do. His language strikes me as too much sometimes. Overkill. I prefer a man of action over words. But I suppose I'm a woman of words so maybe this gives me a taste of what I am like to the action men I prefer. His age is a concern. We are in different places. And this bi/gay culture of some of his friends feels exclusionary to a straight woman. That pisses me off. But I've stood back with his friends and been more polite than real. That might change. Especially with his bi'ish male friend in the religion industry. That man just pisses me off. I know he is threatened by my presence in BCs life, but his coping skills seem like that of a sullen adolescent over a 70 yr old educated monk. But perhaps men who have chosen to live under an authority, religious or otherwise, their whole lives, don't follow the normal developmental curve most of the rest of us do. A small life lived deeply is different than those of us who have chosen a broader approach and experience.
I began to be concerned about bisexuality and non monogamy. I'd chosen to be relationship free because I could explore my own sexuality without spinning my moral compass the wrong way. I see no reason singletons can't fuck who they want as long as they aren't promising anyone otherwise. Technically if you're conservative christian it's still fornication, but not adultery. Fortunately my religious views are not so codified. I've always sought monogamy in my relationships in the past. That's why I thought it was a relationship. Someone chosen over others. And clearly in a marriage fidelity is understood unless an alternative is negotiated. Key is of course a mutual understanding.
I don't know that I want to give up fucking multiple cocks. It pleases me and meets my needs far more than one. But the intrinsic rewards of a relationship...the comfort, extended social network, ability to explore less mainstream sexual practices like DP/DV/fisting and the like, and care...its lovely. And the ability to talk of the little bits to one's day is grounding and connecting. But I've never even considered a non monogamous relationship. I'm possessive. I'm a better cuckoldress than a swinger. I'm happy to fuck multiple men but I do not want to watch my guy fuck another woman. Getting a bj, now that's fine. I've yet to determine if it's cool with me if my guy is with another guy. Oral again would be fine I think. But I'm damn possessive about fucking. I think I wouldn't mind him being fucked. But idk if I'd want his cock as much after being in anyone else's asshole. Mine is fine if condomized, but there's a basic distaste for others.
I'm told BC is more a bottom than top. Which concerns him if I were to see. As in the past the one gf he let view him as such thought less of him post. I've never thought less of a male who could take on a more submissive role. These are usually the men who can be ever so alpha in life. And I love those sorts. I'd just prefer to be the vehicle who takes him there. Not that I need to fuck many asses these days. I'd rather watch than deal with the mess and concern that I maybe hurting him. But to stroke him and verbally tell him to take it. Or to kiss him or have him perform oral on me while he is getting fucked...there's an appeal there. Mostly I want to watch his expression and be verbal. VERY VERY verbal...that's what's hot for me...
We'll see. Much to discuss and bring to the light. And I just need to get well.
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Well, well, well...a post that finally posted in my last one. Excellent.
Getting to the bottom of a dark and stormy, typing at my Hemingway table, while my aggressive younger son and big tom cat lie asleep on the couch nearby. Candles are as close as I get to a fireplace. And these short days call out for flames.
Yes, I continue to date BC. No, he is still not moving fast enough in sharing his bi side with me. So I've told him we are attending a bi party and we'll see how that venue works. I did manage to go to a new party group a few weeks back. A few were familiar to me. A very few of the woman were a bit gossipy in a corner, including one I'm told doesn't like my presence. I suppose as a straight woman in a world of bi women, it might piss someone off that I'd been occupied with the men instead of sharing and giving more. Well, I'm going to attend one with BC as a couple, something new to me. And I've never been a fan of swinging relationships. Still I'm curious enough to see bi male interaction to push my own limits.
Of course my role in the past has been very free and very single...BC encourages me to continue that course. And to use him to say no rather than my usual over politeness which leads me to fuck men I'd prefer to skip to be polite. We'll see. He's nothing like Cuck. Well dressed, sophisticated, intellectual...and he still adores me. The man does talk too much. But I've plenty of my own faults too.
I do adore his cock. He's endowed. Thick. Rather fabulous. It's something to be with a man who's appetites mimic my own. He doesn't have my capibilities. Of course as a woman I'm capable of nearly endless o's. The male body isn't as generous with o's. Though he still manages to be harder than one would expect of a man his age. He doesn't always cum though. I did make him one day much to his surprise. That was rather lovely. But I want to make him more. But male capabilies of orgasm decrease with age. They can still get there, but not always. My focus on the o is not really fair. He pleases me on multiple levels. But I'm learning he's not always going to cum even if he manages to stay hard over and over again. I just find the male o the pinnacle for me. So I miss it if it doesn't happen. And I adore watching or even better, feeling, a man cum.
But oh, he does take care of me in ways no one ever has. It's new to me. Delightful. And though he isn't quite as adventurous as I, he will let me lead him where I need to go. We'll see how what is ahead goes. I am carefully avoiding discussion of monogamy. Though there is an emotional and clearly a sexual connection. We will see. For now, I remain grateful. It's been a very long time since anyone has nurtured me. It's just different, this connection. I don't need much when we are not together. But when we are I lose myself in him. We've explored areas I haven't had the best experiences in the past. The man has skill. And intelligence, both real and emotional.
I am truly enjoying what there is.
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My posts seem few and far between. I've lost quite a few of them as the site speed has dragged and my words just disappear into thin air. I'm far more interesting and have more to say when I'm unhappy rather than when things are going rather well. Though really it's not that it's all going well, but that I am rather used to the parts of my life that lack resolution. And I live my present well in the meantime.
I am conscious of my blessings. A rather interesting house. Far far better now with a consistent source of heat. And much more affordable as well. I've managed to reduce expenses greatly, finally having succumbed to box store quantities and negotiating with other providers for better deals. Though hard to find storage, I'm finding the need to shop less a great relief. And BJs has more organic than I'd expected, plus quantities of things I didn't expect like my expensive razors. My youngest wants to build forts on the shelves behind the tp and dog food bags and post with the other utubers, so it's been enjoyable as a novel family trip. I'm still looking for places to store excess though and the first order sticker shock had me gulping for air. I get it now.
And of course there are the children. We even managed a tree this weekend instead of the usual weekend prior to Christmas. I'm in no hurry to do much to it yet as my work commitments are heavy for the next 3 weeks. I've approached Christmas differently this year since there are less funds. And with Thanksgiving there were even less. Still I managed to get that meal on the table. And I managed a tree the kiddos could search for in a field and cut themselves. These little details are important to them, our traditions, so I will try to make them happen. Still I took the boys out to the archery store and action sports shop to pick out what they want as I'm not about to waste a penny. Less of surprise, but all will get with they need as well as want. It'll be a lighter Christmas in terms of gifts but heavier on experiences. I've discovered the dollar store as well. Lots and lots of stocking stuffers fill the gaps. And perhaps a family game to have us collaborating.
I have beautiful photos of us this weekend in the field, riding wagons, and pulling it back laden with a giant tree filled with pine cones. It's a splurge, yes. But pasta meals and the bogo meats at Acme serve us well. Tonight's pork roast with fingerlings, roasted o carrots, and Vidalia onions cost us little. Just using up what we have. And all the fishing trips with their father leave me with a freezer filled with striper, bluefish, and trout from out big fishing trip. I'm learning. And I'm starting to feel like Christmas is doable as I've managed to purchase just enough to make it happen. The children know it's different. But they need little really.
We even managed to redo our home archery range with a reasonale stall mat backdrop to protect our garage. My chidlren are all archers. They will miss this yard when I finally have to sell. But that might be the time I can join a place where they can shoot with other youth. There's fear in what's ahead. But I've been getting ready for what is to come for a long long time. Still gather information, so we'll see. If y'all pray, pray for my children. I'm a grown up enough to figure it out. But they deserve security and peace. But I know as long as we are together, it's good.
Though my youngest is a great difficulty for me now. I'm managing counseling for him. And I try. But he and I are butting heads more often than not. I'm a woman who requires respect and see red when I am not. And he is a beautiful but challenging child, far closer to his father in personality than I. And he's one who seeks reaction and promotes it. It is very very hard. But I'm all in. And I'm also exhausted by him and the sheer energy and strength it takes to reign myself in with him. My wonderful daugther gets him and how he feels a victim. She advises firmness and gentleness. Wise girl. I need to find my gentle side again.
And yes, I'm gonna write about sex, but I've lost too many posts to keep going. So maybe another shorter one is ahead. Well see if this one goes through.
Wishing y'all well.
Pen
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Well yesterday was an unexpectedly difficult day. My pollyanna'ism came up against inexplicable unfairness. Now I know the world doesn't deal us all even hands, but somehow I am still a child at heart. Do good and good will come to you. Children come first. Those who break the law will be punished and amends made. All those sorts of beliefs. Well it doesn't seem like that happened even though the one who did ill was chastised. But just like children, we know that learning and behaviour modification occurs with consistent consequences. I'm not sure that's going to happen. And that leaves me not much further ahead.
But I misspeak. I am progressing. The house has heat though the new system has a fault that will hopefully be addressed Monday. It's still ON. And wonderful. My roof is fixed and not leaking. The mold testing and remediation is going to take some time and is most concerning as I know when it dries out the spores risk becoming airborne. Thank heaven's there isn't forced air heating in my home or it would be everywhere. We'll see what's ahead there.
But yesterday I was a mess. I nearly ran from work, after catching my kinder cohorts looking at me with concern. I think my face is a blank. But clearly it is not. And I struggled all morning not to weep. My friends would've liked me to confide in them. But I knew I needed to get to my car and have a break down. Sobbing, tears, arms hugged around my chest squeezing tight. And sheer disbelief. Got it out. Blew my nose. Dried my tears. Rehydrated. Reached out to my friends. And even reiki guy for a simple lunch meet. And they were kind.
But you know when you're in a place like that, you can't see through it. And then of course it would've been my Gran's 100th bday yesterday. I suppose I thought there would be magic and it would all work out. So I was left feeling bereft and just missing her even more. But I was so low and vulnerable and without my usual walls that I reached out to not only those wonderful friends I have now, but to my distant family. We share that sense of common history and poignancy for the loss of our matriarch. We all towed the line for Gran. I, more than most. And in some ways it was freeing for me to live far from my hometown but there was a cost for my relative independence.
I miss that little red brick cape cod home that was always home for me. The curve to the walkway. The 40 watt one bulb lamps in every room and tiny windows. My bedroom upstairs that was still pink from when I was a girl. I still have two hampers of what I choose to keep from Gran's house. They remain packed a few years later. I keep meaning to integrate them into my own possessions, but I can't. When I take everything out, it still smells of my Gran's scent of her house. I'm not ready to lose that. I'm funny that way. I have a man's tee in the back of my sock drawer. A man I loved quite quite desperately. But his scent is barely there anymore. There is such comfort in a scent for me. But now I content myself with rosewater and lavender.
I feel incredibly insecure right now. About my ability to come out of this okay. About my take on the world. About why things keep going south. And I'm incredibly insecure about anyone in my world loving me right now. And that I need. Because therein lies the source of any little backbone or courage I have. I was nearly ready to fuck up things with BC because I just can't do complicated or see past where I am. But I created distance enough. But I feel uncomfortable with him and unsure now. And I'm seeing all the differences in our lives and why it won't work instead of feeling it will. And I kind of shot myself in the foot with him by telling him I'm unavailable even though I am because he hurt my feelings inadvertently. I'm better alone when I'm this emotionally labile and truly truly insecure about most everything. On another day I'll figure it out.
Tonight, it's a dark and stormy with plenty of rum because that's where I am. And more than anything else I need sleep tonight. And the comfort in ordinary domestic tasks. There's a roast in the oven and tonight we'll look like a secure happy family. Some days this mom has to fake it til she makes it. And it works most times..
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And...there's heat! I'm in love with the big metal box of a boiler in my basement. I may even name him and put googly eyes on him as that box is keeping my family warm. It's hard to express how blessed I feel now. The luxury of bare arms and feet feels wonderful...
And I've the start of another area repaired. It only happened because of my hired bully. And myself trying hard to reach out where I could to others who could influence it happening. I may even sleep naked tonight!
Tomorrow would've been my Gran's 100th birthday. It's significant in another way too. I'm told there are few true coincidences in the world. So we'll how tomorrow pans out. It's a big day for my family and I.
I still have a hamper or two of Gran's things left packed in storage. I can't bring myself to bring things out and integrate the few possessions of hers I wanted with my own. Kept sealed in the hamper, Gran's scent still clings to the linens and her red scarf. It's been 4 years and sounds rather sad, but I'm grateful for just the lingering of her scent since that's as close as I can get to her now.
I went through the cards I wrote her that she saved, one was particularly poignant. I, as a 23 yr old, wrote to thank her for her protection and motivation she gave me. And she did. She was my lady on a white horse coming to my rescue. She was mother, father, grandparents, and sister to me in one. She could never carry her babies to term and adopted my mother and her siblings when they were toddlers and her foster children. So my birth was her first exposure to a tiny baby. And I became hers as much as my mother who was ill-suited to the job.
I miss her. I miss her. I miss her. And I cried over her things in the storage room. But I couldn't still bring them out. Somehow it would dissipate what little of her I have left.
But it's my Gran who has made me most of who I am and built some resilience to me. Thoughts or prayers darlings, send them out to whomever needs help tonight. But tonight it needn't be me. I'm starting to think I just may be alright here.
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Beginning the day apologizing to my eldest son for how cold the house is....tough. I feel I'm failing the children though I've done all I could to get the funds for the the heating system repair. Moving, let alone thinking, are tough to do when you're cold. I'm beyond angry. Sad. Ashamed really. A sensation I thought was left in the past. My eldest is really a wonderful boy and rarely complains. As we looked at each other, slumped over the breakfast table with chairs as close to the electric heater as we could get, he just blinked and got up and came round the table to hug me. The repair is coming and the court date just ahead. I'm sure they'll enforce heat. I find a lack of faith and goodwill in my relationship with my ex...the man who will drive around looking for his children on Halloween to give them 1 lb chocolate bars but ignores the lack of basics. One day this will be past. But today it's tough to lift my head.
I can't talk of BC today. Relationships, sex, romance seem frivolous at present. Just have to keep moving and get to Thurs/Fri when relief just might happen.
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An impromptu lunch yesterday with the new guy...and blessedly out of the bubble of his lovely place. I love his home, raised since Sandy; it's like playing in a very grown up treehouse. There's comfort, art and an academic sense to his aesthetic. And much like my home, the kitchen is the biggest room in the house. But I've had the experience of living in a guilded cage, so I'm not likely to exchange one for the other no matter the appeal.
I'm having trouble processing what to do with him. He is the first bisexual man I've dated, though not the first I've fucked. And it seems a relationship is developing, particularly on his part as he tells me he is in love with me. I've chosen not to define our connection though I admit it exists and is extraordinary enough that I'm still in. But really I met him because I simply wanted to have sex with two men and experience a DV or maybe a DP. The connection was unexpected.
So there's a conundrum. I can fuck multiple men when I am not connected to either other in friendship. Or even in a cuck dynamic. But I find this confusing. There is an attachment. I've felt free to explore in the past as I was single. I still am as I've avoided defining this with him. But the experiences I've had since I've met him pale a bit in comparison to our interaction together. I do want to fuck the man. But I also want a DP/DV. I'd just prefer it not be with a man I'm involved with on an emotional level. I like simple. This is decidedly not.
And he is 14 years older than I. Be he is nearer in priorities to me than anyone else I've met for a long time. The zen stuff and pedantic speech are something I take note of....references to physics theories and such...it's interesting but on occasion he seems a little pompous. And his efforts to be mindful with his choice of words...well...sometimes I just wish he would speak plainly. I'm guilty of using big words without realizing it. And I know I used to annoy CW, Maybe I'm perceived the same way and don't know it.
But this bi stuff...it's seems a bit indiscriminate that he would be open to blowing a guy spur of the moment. But conversely, would I be open to fucking a big cock with that level of spontaneity too? Probably. Yet I sit here and shake my head at him and wonder how many men he's fucking on his trips. And I've been the one to pursue my original aim in meeting him...the two guy thing. Yes, with some bi action as well. I want to share a cock with a man; I find it impossibly hot. At least orally. And greedily, I want to be fucked by two.
I don't know that I want monogamy. I've enjoyed my singledom. And it's lovely to fuck whom you want without worrying about a cuck's feelings. I am soft hearted when it comes to my relationships; part of my focus is always on making sure my partner is okay. But this...this is complicated. I like monogamous relationships and find polyamory an anathema. If we had just met and fucked another guy from the get go, it would be so much simpler. But now there are reservations on both parts. He doesn't want to see me kiss another man. I think any play should be undertaken collaboratively. But he is used to just going with the flow.
I have never wanted to be a swinger. I just attend parties in seach of multiple single men who are sexually open and more endowed than average. Simple fantasies. But I don't find couples appealing. And married men I'd prefer to avoid entirely. BC understands my reservations there...but it seems this is taking on the structure of a swinging relationship. And I really really don't like to share my man if he becomes that.
I have the impression bi men just grab it however, whenever they can. And of course not all bi men are such. But his approach...super sub phrased it well in that I don't really want a "man whore." But this dynamic is interesting. So I'm not really sure what to do. Probably pursue my desire for two outside of this would be best. Any mature bi men willing to shed any light on my efforts to understand how he works?
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I cried a lot today. Maybe it's finally that late late cycle that has me at sixes and sevens. Or maybe it's my own doubts coming back to roost. Or maybe it's just the simple fact that's it's cold and I don't have heat as my boiler is done. Or maybe it's because I've spent Grans' funds on attorneys and I still can't see my way safe or out. I know at my core that I will get there. But right now feels like I did when I was a child...disempowered, scared, and unsupported. I'm not. I know that rationally. But that is how I feel.
When I confided my discomfiture at having to cause others extreme stress (ie the ex), he said to me "Others may have a choice other than distress. You are not responsible for others choices." It hit home because I take responsibility for everything. And it hits home now as I have a choice other then to feel this much distress. But darlings, I am simply tired. Exhausted at the bullshit.
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Finally creating some distance between myself and the new guy. Though I did break and agree to stop by for lunch and probably a quickie tomorrow. But he's more in need of seeing me than I of him. I find the bubble he's created for us at his place, charming but limitted. I know he wants me to invite him here but that's not going to happen anytime soon. I've children with keys to the house who are welcome to pop by whenever they need to. Perhaps I should've been more like my ex and limit my children's access to the house. But it's their home too. And I don't want them to EVER feel like they don't have a place to go, open to them whenever they need it. I still carry the key to my Gran's house though of course it's a few years since she's gone. But I always knew I could go home when I needed to. And they will always have the same from me.
I am puzzled by my sexuality at present. With BC it is more relationship, making love'ish. And that is vastly new to me. I still cum a great deal. And I did take a few hours to masturbate today. But formerly I just wanted sex, preferable a great deal of it, with multiple cocks. I still do, but I'm less willing to go through the hoops necessary to secure that experience. Though I can't say BC satisfies me fully. It's a different experience, more new age'y I suppose with his Reiki and energy sensitivity. And sure I can feel something different, but his level of spirituality is not mine. And it's not always fun to fuck one playing the role of the wise older sensei. Yes, he's sophisticated and cultured. But sigh, he's also a generation older and I don't want a father figure. I want a contemporary.
I can't see him going out the way I like to. And I'm frustrated by the bubble he keeps our relationship in. As much as I enjoy his cooking and the hot tub and him, I am decidedly not a homebody. I'm not a social butterfly either, but I crave more. And I crave new places and new experiences. To him time is something to fill. To me it's something I have to allocate. The differences may be too great.
He is a lovely man. But he thought he was in love with me by date two. That's too much too soon. And leaves me thinking he's either desperate or a flake. I know he didn't think he'd meet anyone and here I am. And sure there's a connection. But I don't know that I have it in me to be anyone's be all. I feel limits at that. And I'm not a woman to be put in a cage, even if it just feels that way to me. I need new places. I need to step out of my comfort zone. With him it feels like sinking into comfort. And while that's something most of us seek, it's not my primary objective.
I want a partner, yes. And comfort, yes. And amazing sex, yes. But I also want us to bring out the best in each other. And challenge each other just enough. I want banter, and laughter, and fun. And I have that mostly with BC. But there is no challenge. I need to be pushed, sexually and otherwise. He'll try to investigate a more spiritual side of me that truly doesn't exist externally. I'm focused on the pragmatic, on what I can do. And he's more a talker. I don't want words. I want experiences and action.
So here I am. I wonder if I'll tell him. He expects, now that his November is wide open, for mine to be the same. Mine is decidedly not. So I'm going to put on the brakes and hard. There's much ahead for me practically. And I just want to focus on my children and their needs. We spent two hours last night in a corn maze in the moonlight and solved the problem and got our way out. It was frustrating and brought out the best and worst in us. But oh my, we had a good good time. Fresh cold air, fields and farm animals go with the harvest season. And it was one of those things I crave, something entirely new to me.
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I left my last journal entry midway and couldn't get back to complete it. And I know I had lots more to say. But its a new day and I'm more concerned with a taste of cheese & cracker and a nice big dark-n-stormy than thinking. Very intense day. But I got to do alot and it was all cool. What a great new group of people I am working with! Plus it takes me completely away from BC which if likely a good thing.
It's funny. I think when I'm on my own what's the big deal? It couldn't possibly be the connection I'm imagining it is. But then I see the man and it is. Sure, I prefer to spend time with him a nosesbreadth away and naked. But doing that while having endless conversations spiked with occasnional o's...who could complain about that? And then he cooks for me! Honestly.....or the tells me some part of my neck is still stress and to get on the massage table for a bit. I'm sure it's his shtick. But damn it's a good one!
I have a mostly work weekend as it needs to be. Things just got way way complicated. But then complicated is what I do best.
Go out and look at the gorgeous giant moon tonight folks and get yourselves some...
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I'm an agnostic. I neither believe nor disbelieve. In fact, I am willing and hoping to believe in abstract concepts like god, love, and world peace. Just give me some empirical evidence. There lies the conundrum. What this leaves me is very open but a skeptic.
I understand the biochemistry of pleasure/pain and the appeal it holds for so much of us here. And I understand how our neurotransmitters can have us craving a repeat of our personal pleasure cycles. We feel good. We want to keep feeling that way. So we do it again. And if we can't, it fucks us sometimes more than a bit and it hurts. So then we avoid pain...we'll some of us do....
Love...now that I don't understand. I look back and think well I must've been in love with him or him or him. But in retrospect I feel I wasn't. I dismiss the emotion of the time as a necessary developmental challenge or my attachment as need to attach without sufficient social support in the midst of trying times. Sounds pretty damn clinical. It's a change as before my separation ages ago, I was pure passion and emotion.
Now I channel that passion into great sex (when I'm lucky). And that emotion? We that's tricky for me. I can express my what I feel for my children. And that is the single type of love I think I feel though I know there's a biochem attachment process that begins when they are born. From their feel to their scent to the sound of my voice, we are magnetized to stick together. And that ensures our survival.
Other love though? I rationalize it away. A great part of me wishes to sink into that sensation. But between the ex and cuck...well that's a learning process I could do without repeating. BC is feeling the love. And I will not shoot down his emotion, his truth. It isn't often we get the opportunity to experience the emotions that mirror almost a second adolescence at this age. He knows I'm not there and I wont say such words. Because to me romantic love is more of a noble concept I aspire to but don't know if I will ever quite reach.
I love my children. I love the core group of friends I can count on one hand. And yes, I love the cats I've adopted. The only way I think romantic love has a shot of developing with me is in time and with actual physical presence and effort. Sounds simple. A no brainer. But these are the days of internet relationships, text, skype, calls and etcetera. I'm a retro chick in most ways except for my attitude about sex. And love is no different. You gift each other with time, attention, transparent communication, and sex. And then hopefully something wonderful grows. But love between partners, well that's a game changer.
So I'm paddling around in the pool with BC but I'm not jumping in the deep end. But times have been hot and unpleasant, so spending time in that figurative pool with him is soothing. And that's new. Dating a man whose presence just makes me exhale. We've discussed the dynamic. I hadn't realized til he said it that he likes nurturing me. And that is what he does. New that. I've long sought a protector, but perhaps it's less a protector than a nurturer that I need. I use the man as my reward for working hard.
There's a lightening to my step as I climb the stairs on his raised house. It's like spending time in a treehouse with a sexy grown up. Last time some of his veneer of sophistication slipped. He was intensely horny. Now if you've been reading me for awhile you know how I adore a horny out of control man. He stripped off my clothes as I came in the door. I like that. And he endearingly fumbled with one of my bra hooks. (I actually have a few very difficult bras for just that reason; I enjoy when they fumble like adolescents a little.) |
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I'm procrastinating on a project that intimidates me. I can stay convinced I can do it and well by not actually doing it. Poor coping skill but today I'd best get down to brass tacks.
The new man and I carved some time out of yesterday. I'd been booked in the morning but an unexpected closing gave me unexpected time. Shoulda gone home. But shoulda, coulda, woulda's I'm trying to eliminate from my vocab.
I love sex. A ton of sex. I could lose myself fucking for an entire weekend and be happy. I am grateful when my partners are also my friends. When we can cheer each other on during the week and fuck until we are both left with grins on our faces. But of course the benefit and limitation of such relationships are in its limitations. Limitted relationships enable us all to get something we feel is missing. And round out an otherwise very full life.
But there's still that ideal. It's less a happily-ever-after fairytale as one ages then a hope for a partner. When I was younger there it was like we had to check off a list of progression. Own place, check. Decent job, check. Relationship, check. Engaged, check. Married, check. Go to Provence or Venice, check. House, check. Have children, check. And then you just keep going.
But when you've done quite a bit and hear your knees creak in the mornings and know it's time to go to bed at night when you just ache...well then it's not so much about the having and doing. We have less tolerance for passive aggression and unspoken conversations. We want ease and comfort and just enough excitement that we have something to look forward to instead of at achievements behind us. And that's where I am.
I've done a lot. And I have probably my most important work ahead. And I would love the chance to be embraced fully, strong libido, colorful sexual practices and all. That's going to take a man who has some sexual fluidity himself. And it's pretty tough to find a guy a little older than me like that. Who is open and not set in his ways.
Kissing should be just automatic. This guy, smart, I watch his lips move and I want to kiss him. That's new. I've missed kissing and simply making out. He's far happier nude than I am. It's not so much a body issue as my preference for the weight of a robe or a blanket. It soothes me. BC is happy to let it all show at the naked beach at Sandy Hook. IDK if that's ever going be my thing with my milky skin and desire to keep it little more than occasionally golden.
And then there's the conversation. He's far more educated than I. Though I may overtake him there in a few years. Multiple advanced degrees. And yes, it impresses me a little even though they are silly pieces of paper. But more so if his wide field of reference, some of which is lost on me. I tell him so and I"m more interested in learning what I don't know than feeling embarrassed by it. Fortunately he is not professorish all the time.
What he has that I like the most is a giving nature, positivity, sexual openness, and the will to make this happen. There's no "how about two weeks from tuesday?" It's "hey, this is my schedule for the next 3 weeks. I want to see you whenever you can manage it. Let me know and I'll move things around if I can." And he follows through. That's pretty great stuff and easy. He's a complicated man who lives easy. I'm a simpler woman who lives a very complicated life.
So we'll see.
Pen |
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A long discussion last night with BC. Did I mention he's bi? And I've long sought a bi male who is very comfortable about his sexuality. I admit it was the first time discussing with a man what we both found attractive in a man. Loads of fun! He's of the non-hairy back camp, tall or smaller and ripped. I'm not so particular, but less hair appeals to me now whereas when I was young I adored hairy chests...backs, well gentlemen....not so much. But then I shave endless inches of my skin, why shouldn't a man give effort as well? We notice! And it's hot.
He discussed my unusual o pattern. I've described myself at multi orgasmic. But really it's simply that I never really stop o'ing. He asked for a count. I never count. Apparently his fascination led him to tally our last day together at 25. Now they're g spot o's so they take penetration to achieve but he does have talented hands. He seems fascinated with the tricks my body does and he's experienced. I've heard i'm a wee bit out of the ordinary, but there's something lovely to being appreciated for my excesses.
We talked of 2 men and my comfort level with such. Y'all know I've long wanted to share a cock orally with a man. There may well be opportunities for that and more. He did ask how I felt about another woman, knowling my enthusiam would be less there. And the what's the biggest cock I've ever taken q? It's likely not a surprise that I've yet to meet a cock I couldn't take. But I'm hopeful.
This is fun. If only he'd tame the L word too soon. Red flags flash. I'm being careful, but I'm so enjoying this discussion.
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Odd that my instinct when meeting a truly interesting man is to add some distance and manage expectation. My dislike of wanting over my desire for having gets in the way. I'm such a pragmatic sort. The cock inside of me now is better than the possible cock plus romance ahead....
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So much so soon and I don't even know how to communicate with the new guy when we are not face-to-face. We're learning. He seems very conscious and sensitive of my commitments. It helps, of course, that he is a father and close to his children. Though his nest if empty and mine decidedly not. I did tell him that I rarely integrate my children into the relationships I have with men. Though I recognize as some point I may need to open up more in that area. But it takes me a long time.
I just have to keep to my protective distances. I think. Or maybe not. I"m not really sure anymore. Certainly for now. But I recognize too that my children haven't' really seen a me model a healthy male/female relationship and that is something they should see is possible.
I've been discussing the guy with my female friends and darling Dom...none of whom will hesitate to tell it like it is, baldly. And that I need. DD says and I agree, way too soon for him to be feeling whatever it is he feels. Or rather to tell me so. And it is. So I'll have to slow it down and temper my own responses too.
My friend who is 62 told me the age difference could be a problem as he could well have health problems. We women feel largely the same as we get older and finish taking care of others; the last thing we want to do is take care of a man anymore. There needs to be a mutuality to such things.
There's a pressure when someone introduces "in love" too soon. To respond in kind, which I won't. The knowledge that he can't possibly know me but that's its more the idea of being in a relationship with someone who on the surface seems perfect. But y'all know I'm far from that. I want to relax and just be the me he DOESN"T know, but now it's a little more difficult.
And okay, I'll say it. I don't know that I want to be monogamous. He's sensual and fabulous and vocal there. But the fucking I like....the crazy hot hard pounding almost violent cumming...well that's not going to happen. He's bi so there's always the possibility of bringing in a third. And there would be my great fantasy. But you've got to wonder if the guys will get more off on each other than me. Very new to me, this.
Time apart is good. Now to get the man out of my head. I can become easily addicted to the feel of a lover's skin against my lips, his voice while his chest rumbles below my ear, the embrace, caresses...all of it. I am a woman who touches, who is completely inhibited in bed, and apparently (According to him) with a remarkable oral gift. LOL!
I'll take the compliment.
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It's a good thing I'm busy and the new guy, BC, is going out of town. I have to slow this train down. We really just met last week and already he's wholeheartedly throwing himself into this. I know older men do this unapologetically and don't play bullshit games. Well the ones who mean it do, I'm told. But whoa. Admittedly, the thought occurred to me that he could be THE guy. But the minute I think that, I mentally spank my ass and snap out of getting that far ahead of the ball. But he's there and telling me he wants me and whatever time I can give him period.
I'm still trying to figure out if it's the guy I like or the massage/reiki/sex. Then he invited me for breakfast today, which he COOKED and made fresh biscuits from scratch with a fork. OMG, who does this anymore but me with my scones? I brought him a bouquet of herbs as he and I share a culinary background, his far more prestigious than mine. Respectful, giving, doesn't pussyfoot around about the meet or what he wants. The connection is extraordinary. Mental. Physical. Romantic. I can learn from him. And he has the same lifelong learning approach and positivity I try to live by.
He is far more spiritually aware than I, but I could use a friend who probes more deeply into belief systems. And he is incredibly educated. He hosts me at his home filled with objects that all have stories to them, since he lost much to hurricane Sandy. It's almost like it's too perfect. It's a huge red flag that he has already said he thinks he's falling in love with me. He doen't even KNOW me.
But here's a respectful, experienced, giving guy who would move mountains for an hour with me. So I'm not going to take to the hills quite yet. But I do have to slow this way down. But it's so easy being with him. I want to kiss and talk almost more than I want to fuck. And that isn't easy for me to find. Lust, yes, I'm in lust. If only he could stay there too, lust. Being in love can wait. But wow all the same.
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Such exquisite opportunities lately. I walked supersub out this morning (the aesthetics of his body...to touch him is a beautiful experience) and went back to bed. I've woken this afternoon, finally rested, after skilpping sleep entirely Thursday night. I left my door open so the cats I keep from my bed are tucked into each corner of it and the floor is scattered with discarded clothing, stockings, boots, and rope. Mmmmm...yum. And truth be told, as much as I enjoyed the fucking....making out and kissing fed my soul more. I value supersub's friendship very much. And I'm more than a little pleased that the changes in his CBT brought him to use his safeword for the first time. I'd left the key in my jacket downstairs and smiled the whole what as I tapped my way downstairs in my heels to retrieve it and finally set him free. Recognition of limits is the start of personal growth. From there we can begin to transcend them.
I expanded my range last night attending a new club a man I'd met before had opened. It's a ballsy thing to walk into a swingers club as a single woman, but with a deep breath, I did it. Fortunately the owner made me comfortable and I ran into others I know from the lifestyle. OMG, I'm part of the "lifestyle" it seems, however much I can't stand that word. The catalyst, besides my endless libido, was my conviction that my previous party host is leaving me out. He had a falling out with the club owner and warned me away. I did end up avoiding the club for months, partly because I trusted him, but more because the host made sure to include me in his scheduling plans until lately. I don't think he realizes how small this world is, even for a relative newbie like me. Such drama. I feel for them but I can't participate in it.
An acquaintence there suggested that the party host is not going to like it when he hears I went to the club. But the hotel parties turned into wall-to-wall single men. Too much so. I'd really prefer to swing semi privately. And I don't want even a touch, no matter how promiscuously I am dressed, unless consent is given first. I had to be firm last night. I'd fortunately met a lovely man, too shy to play at such a venue. We talked and made out and I had a beautiful massage from him. I expect naught will come of it, but it was lovely to have his presence to keep others away. I have lost my taste for gangbangs and men I don't have a connection with touching me. Cock, even gorgeous very large cock, has ceased to be my be all. I feel like I've reached a developmental shift towards seeking connectedness. Whether it is social or adds a sexual component, that is what feeds my soul now.
Social support is so key for all us. Our mental health has a direct relationship to our physical. And whether it's family, friends or lovers...we need functional relationships. Someone who is simply glad to see you. Someone to acknowledge your new hair do. An embrace because they are so glad to see you again. Laughter exchanged. Understanding that you are not alone. Help when you're anxious or just a touch that is therapeutic because you can feel the care. And just seeing pleasure in another's eyes that they can be with you...OMG, how utterly healing is that? To be able to detail the minutiae of your day without worrying you're sounding boring. We all want to be connected and part of something greater, no matter how impossible it seems to achieve at times.
I've met a man I have an extraordinary connection with. I had reached out on another forum, seeking a guy to explore MFM specific acts with. DV, maybe DP, but even more so a true threesome over versus two guys taking turns with a girl. There were more replies than I'd imagined, so it seems men are far more open creatures than I'd given them credit for. Of course many ignored my requests for SINGLE. I can't be truly intimate and trust a man who isn't free to connect with me the way I want...with transparency and joy and who will open his world to me. And after the text speak offers to bang me so deep I wouldn't need two and more of the same, I received a reply that was respectful, gentlemanly, educated and open. When I responded in kind, an extraordinary communication opened up. We decided to meet for drinks and possibly table time (he is a massage therapist) after an effortless telephone conversation neither wanted to end.
He's older than I. And I'm pretty old, so it's not easy finding a healthy non-stick-in-the-mud guy who has some years on me. Its always been my preference, but when I find myself in my 50s and realize there are more men in the population younger than me than older, well, a woman has to be flexible. He has shifted careers and locales enough to indicate his flexibility and resiliency. And he was married 30 years before divorcing a decade ago, so he's not flighty either. Driven by learning. As am I. Now that resonates with me. And his home is filled with mementoes of a life well lived, but not static. I like that. I like that a lot. He practices reiki and has a buddhist sensibility which I am only vaguely familar with. But he also eats meat (thank heavens!) and is an unabashed sensualist. I like him.
We spent the rest of Thursday night exploring. I was grateful for an astonishing massage/reiki session on his table. Ladies, it was as if my date turned into a spa night. Who even imagines such a thing possible? I hope it's more the man than how he makes me feel that appeals. But there's no doubt he makes me feel so impossibly good that it's taken me 2 days to process what that is. I didn't sleep at all Thursday night except for occasional catnaps in his arms; I didn't want to miss a minute of that night. An intimate massage, a professional quality one, of the areas my therapists can't touch has long been a fantasy. But it wasn't about getting to the sex for him. And that is unusual.
I'm not a big believer for or against alternative modalities, but I recognize there's far more in the world than we know. Reiki is an energy healing technique and I've done it before. But this was a powerful connection. IDK what's ahead. But he sent me the most delightful text that I want to preserve, so I'm going to add it here. "Wow... I am speechless.... What an extraordinary time.....I hope that caffeine is enough to get you through the day.....xoxoxo". Charming. Really charming. So we'll see. I am convinced he felt the vibe too. And I know we share some philosophies in our approaches to living. But even more appealing, we can learn from each other. And that, for a girl like me, is irresistable.
But even if there's no more. It was enough to have that one extraordinary night. It's firmed up my conviction that I am going to connect with others in the ways I seek. And find joy. Post conference at work, the big boss left the room, and my compatriots and I began to talk about our progress since we've begun working together and really getting to know each other. Last spring I was in so much conflict with the divorce and fighting against doing what I had to do. Now that I've finally accepted my decision and am not living with such ambivalence any more, I'm more certain. A colleage who knows a little of me told me yesterday how often she's thought of my struggle when we were apart over most of the summer. And she told me that she is seeing me come into my own now. In big ways and small ways. My colleagues have always seen me as capable, not the way I've seen myself as holding on by my fingernails and struggling. Mostly it's because I don't stress the work stuff. It's hard and takes great effort, but my stress has all been on closing the legal book on my marriage. And not letting that get in the way of my goals. If I hadn't had that external stress, I'm sure I'd be more like my peers with stress of work. But to me, the demands of the work and it's intrinsic rewards of helping others feeds my soul and keeps me going. It is a fine compliment indeed. And the response to the outward sign of it, my edgy new hair do, with all the "good-for-her's" has been validating. Be brave, be differerent, don't be afraid to stand out in a room anymore, and don't be afraid to be noticed...because I am finally confident I am up to it.
Thank you all for your continued support. I'm getting there. Be well.
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I went edgy today. Silly girly stuff really. I worked as I had a pedicure yesterday. Then today's hours were spent in the salon; do men realize it can take up to 2 1/2 hours every 6 or 8 weeks or so for hair? It's a luxury of course and I've extended my time to every two months instead of every month, but it's still a luxury. My stylist, a bronzed orangey skinned blonde of indeterminate years who still wears clothes from the juniors department, is astonishingly talented. She paints color on hair like an artist would do another medium. And she's equally talented at sellling product or cosmetics along with it. She has a heart though if you judged her from her appearance, you wouldn't really get to know what a kind soul she is. She likes me. I'm not as well-to-do as her other clients these days, but she works with my new budget and helped me come up with solutions that last longer. I usually let her do what she will, but come in with my ipad with a collection of what I like and what she thinks. She does what few us do, spends time to delivery quality and attention to detail. I know, men, y'all are thinking get on to the sex part...
I hesitated when we got to a very edgy style and color I found. I've baby hair so not alot works for me. And I have to pass for conservative. This is not conservative. At a meeting tonight I felt like a Flanders poppy in room full of daisies. My teenager's friends eyes got bigger with a "OMG, Mrs....., I LOVE your hair." And men are flirting with me. Now I'm the girl who flys under the radar. But right now I'm getting noticed. I'm finding stepping outside of my comfort zone is just plain fun. CW even weighed in with a "Wow. You changed your hair A LOT!" He couldn't leave it at that and had to add "You look a lot younger." Most women are groaning reading it, because of course it implies we looked pretty damn old before. He did ask me to take me to my fav place for dinner; I'm thinking about it. But I'm not going to be so nice and sweet. Even the other women in the salon were asking, "do you think I could pull that off?" If I can, anyone can.
It's hair that looks good messy. I think I could fuck and go with this hair. And of course that's probably the appeal. A man might wonder if I look just fucked or if it's just the style. I'm going to have to put it to the test and see how I look after a good hard session. And of course the best compliment of all, from my 11 yr old. "Mom, you look like some superhero; it's pretty badass." (Mind you he's not allowed to say badass.). All I know is I feel good and I want to flirt very very much. And save my pennies to pay for my indulgences.
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My daughter gave me parenting advice today. As I was trying to tell my son not to get his hopes up too much for a program he's trying to get into that I'm 80% sure he's not up to....never a good way to start...she told me "Mom, he just needs some encouragement right now." And she's right. But don't we all need just a little encouragement?
And lately I've been more pragmatic than encouraging. If I can't see it working, I just say it. There isn't much of the cheerleader in me. I'm more, keep your head cool and see how far you can go. Boring as hell, it sounds like. And unfortunately I've taken the same bald response with men who have approached as well. One I said no to awhile ago, his communication style is presumptious, filled with "sirs," and he seemed to think the fact that he decided we should suit, I should automatically think so too. But then I don't.
Another really lovely man I expect I'd have endless things in common with, but he's partnered. Truly? Does anyone read my profile? And another who is going through a similar situation as I, but not yet settled in his own place. I get it; I really do. But I would never retreat to any home but one of my own. Independent, self-supporting, with transportation and your own life that you want to open to me is what I seek. And I'll give the same in return.
Then there's one of my most precious resources, time. It's hard for me to give unless a prospective partner is willing and eager to give real time back. Even then, it's tricky with a schedule that can be brutal at present. CW just reached out after I had given up with his "I'm sorry, I'm too busy." And now I have the same response. And he wondered why he hadn't heard from me in so long. Well, hey, any girl is going to stop asking when the answer is always "no time." And so I did.
I do, however, wish every one of them well. I'm just not your girl. But there is someone out there who is...who understands and may be in a similar place. You'll find her.
Pen
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There's comfort in staying home and simply enjoying the presence of my family today. For all our quirks, we are surprisingly well adjusted people. I wouldn't say we are particularly unique than other families in our community except that we spend more time outdoors and in museums and less time in organized team sports. I have a sense of time and the value of it that is perhaps more aware than others. And I know it's finite nature. So to me, apportioning between what you give to others, friends/family/community/work, and what you give to yourself is a critical skill. I'm likely so aware becasue their father lacks skills in the extreme there. I find my moments apart from them both good for me and there's always an awareness of the empty house. I derive great comfort when I wake at night to make my rounds and peek at them sleeping in their beds. It's that sense of all being right in the world and then I can rest too.
A new guy I'd met several weeks ago reached out again to me. I'd erased his number as I'm apt to do. But I'm not embarassed to ask when a text comes up unknown in my contacts list. Possibilities there, though of course I have no time. Still it was good to hear from him. He's one for transparency and simply open communication. From relationships to sexual turnons to work to children. I like that. I want to fuck someone I know, who opens himself and bits of his world to me. Anyone who needs to hide so much isn't encouraging the intimacy that leads to great sex. They're more like a "give me a bj in the car" kind of guy; and I've never been that kind of girl. Though I can't say I haven't teased a man of mine in the car before.
Of course the minute I have time, I'm likely to get my period. Such as the wind blows with me these days. I don't expect physical relief with another anytime soon. I've had to stick to stolen moments with my beautiful big toy. Toy. Boy. Boy toy. Sigh. They'll be time again. But now it's time to learn and stay firm. I hope to hell this all works out. Because right now all my faith is in one person, me. I know my choices had to be made. Let's just hope it works.
For a longtime I think both friends and I saw myself as weak. I had to spend so very long bidding my time and preparing without action or resolution. And it was a painful process. And nothing changed. Still I am in a bit of a holding pattern. But what I have done is work towards goals for years. And I've endured. And at the time, I though I was accepting crap from others. But finally now in retrospect I see that I did right but working quietly, preparing, and waiting. And going through a world of pain. Working with more people who are damaged in ways we cannot see, I remain grateful now at the realization that I am resilient. Never got it. Never really saw it til recently.
Let's hope I can maintain this perspective. It some hard won.
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I took time today for a rare happy hour at my fav restaurant. Margaritas with amazing flavored salts and an app. I do happy hour once a year maybe, but I unexpectedly was able to leave early. Add to that my feet hurt in my newest fancy shoes and my children weren't waiting for me, well it seemed a cocktail or two was in order. The bartenders are hot, tight jeans and vests, most bi and utterly charming. I think they practice their soulful looks in the mirror before they come in. But I'll tip a pretty boy who flirts with a woman of a certain age well. It's an art and I do admire skill in it's various forms. My newfound appreciation for the flirt with men (and the occasional woman) wtih whom I want nothing more than a smile and a moment is new for such a greedy girl as me. Usually my wants are rarely light. There are few men I want, but those I do...my my my....I want them everyway I can have them.
Today was an emotionally draining day. I ran into an old friend who was in grave difficulties in new environment. It took awhile for her to realize who I was and when she did, she surprised us all with the most beatific smile. I wish I could have stayed with her longer but more work called. I understand more now of her challenges. And even though I suggested I be excused, the powers that be wanted me to work with her. Clearly I got through. It was as if the weight that had her physically bowed over and shuffling, lifted just enough for her to look up. Those rare smiles are my reward. It's a small thing and my eyes leak at what I've seen and what I wish I could change. It seems at times that those who are most brilliant are most afflicted. Prayers darlings, for those who need help.
I think I can't sleep becasue I feel so much for those whom I am connected to. It tells me I'd better take more care of who I choose connect with. And there's somthing not quite right in feeling grateful that I and my children are in a better place than many people I see. Even though it's not a "we're-better'than'you" sentiment, but more of a "thank-god-my=children-with-all-their-issues-are-still-remarkabl6-happy-and-well-adjusted." It teaches one to appreciate the intangibles. And so they're tucked in their beds, after tucking their exhausted mommy who fell asleep on the couch during movie night, in. And I finally dragged myself to bed only to be haunted by my poor friend's unsolvable pain.
That's the difference between myself and many of those I work with. My problems are solvable. Many of theirs are not and so they just have to endure. I meet brave people. And impossibly broken ones. And some I help through the worst days of their lives. It teaches you that life can change on a dime. And to appreciate every single blessing you have. And to live now. I'm haunted by my friends face and eyes tongiht. And so very very sad for her. So please darlings, if you pray, send them out for a lovely brilliant brave woman whose body and mine has failed her.
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I'm in an interesting state. Not so much angst. Not so much need to fuck. And handling things better than I'd expected. It's good. I find I don't want as much. I suppose there's less to worry about, though still ample stressors, because I've decided my course and now I'm sticking to it. My legal concerns are in the hands of others at present. I know nothing will move quickly. And I'm not so powerless anymore. It still does seem a shame that it took my Gran's passing and the bit of her estate that came to me to free me. But she always tried to protect me; I hadn't realized how much til she was gone. And I was a proud determined child. And young adult. Okay, so maybe I still am...my sense of humor saves me but it can't be easy to be in a relationship with me. Her legacy is going to free me from a godawful mess. She always did say, my ex, that handsome prince we all held on a pedestal, deserved a punch in the nose. He never visited her again after his betrayal became public knowledge. Probably wise, as that little old lady WOULD have socked him. And now she's doing it in spirit; there's a karmic connection to her gift. And that's about as far as I go with the abstract.
I've said no a lot to sex. And made friends with a rather fabulous dildo that I found in a box of toys I'd retired. It's enormous, red, and was given to me by a former partner. But it's shape is realistic and veiny. I love that texture and it's to the point. I can take care of a few raging o's,clean up, and move on to productivity. And that, and my children, are my focus at present. Sure it would be nice to have dinner and romance and a hell of a lot of sex with a man, but I think I'd be impatient to get to the sex. I am decidedly not good at doing leisure right now and focused on doing.
Oddly though, somehow things are not getting to me. Especially the ex. No changes there. Well I suppose he didn't fight me as hard as he usually does with my schedule. It makes me wonder if he has something up his sleeve. I've never seen him as one who takes action though. Rather one who choses not to interact. He did ask for proof and so I gave it. My paperwork is caught up, and I'm paying my bills. I can't tell you what that does for my sense of security. I still have to fight to collect but I can live well on less. And still provide for my children.
I think key is that my wants have changed. They're focused more on taking care of what I need to. Occasional rewards and eliminated what I don't need. It has become easier to let go, never a strong point with me. And it's becomes way easier to feel that way about men who don't connect the way I do. If someone can't act transparently, respectful, and show trust...well hell, I don't want fuck him. And I don't want to give him too much of my time. It should be easy. If someone needs to equivocate and maintain a wall of privacy when you're in the midst of discussing the msot intimate things you want to do to each other, well sweethearts, that's fucked up. I mean really? It's just evident.
Let's just make each other feel good. Be real. And connect. It does us all good. And really trust your instinct. If you feel disrespected or the communication is fraught, dont do it.
-Pen |
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A man I'm enamored with said to me: "If we met, I'd want a relationship with you. But I think you would just want sex." Well he's half right. I'd certainly want the sex and would leave him reeling. But I suspect he'd do the same to me. But my reaction is interesting when a man I actually want talks of such. I want a relationship; I truly do. But I have failed at most of mine. I don't want to fail again.
I wouldn't generally call myself a coward. But when he mentioned that he'd want a relationship, it filled me with hope and I wanted to jump in. But then my words just got all slippery on me. You know those people you like so much that you're all thumbs just being around them? That what this guy is to me. I fight for control. Of my libido, yes. Of my emotion, even more so. And I fight hard not to have expectation.
Instinct tells me the man is a player. An ageing and lonely player, but definitely a guy to whom going all el disappearo is always an option. He never married because he always thought someone better was going to come along. Some of us call it settling when we marry for less than we want. I did. And I'm here in the middle of an adversarial mess. But I think some of us are meant to be together for a time but not forever. Yet in some deep recess of my heart, where I try to hide my light, I still believe in happily ever after. I substituted my believe in romance for sex. Because after all sex is so much more achievable and feels pretty damn good.
My children, of course, are my center and they hold my heart. They've met the few men I've been in true relationships with over the years. Cowboy. Cuck. CW. I'd invite my man to join us for a casual dinner if he stopped by to help with something. And CW I even let take the boys fishing. But I've learned compartmentalization partly to protect my children from anyone disappearing. My time with the chidlren is precious to me and I don't want to share myself or them with anyone else. That's my own brand of selfishness. But I'm also building myself a cage I'm going to be left alone in when my nest empties so at some point I need to learn integration. But my heavens, I have no clue. There are few in this world whose views of me matter, but having my children view me as less is a concern. So I do what I do on my own time and give all I have on theirs.
I've always thought over the years that the children should see me with someone. Or at least have some model of what a good partnership is. It doesn't surprise me how slow my eldest is to even consider dating since all he sees is the indeterminable fighting of his dad & dad's girlfriend. And I? I don't invite anyone in. Not truly. I talk it up to them. How there are some couples out there who are truly happy and it CAN be a wonderful thing. And I encourage their dating to an extent. But as much as I've tried to be a decent role model, I could do better here.
So I flounder when anyone brings up a relationship, because it's my heart's desire. And I have lost the pleasure of wanting. To me wanting is a feeling to be eradicated. The goal is to have. I want to hold something real to me, not want something that might not ever come to fruition.
I'm a thinker. It's a sad time of year as the shore closes up. We're out there walking the boards and enjoying this, the most beautiful weather we get here. But so many fav spots reduce their hours to nil or close completely til next May. And of course commitments increase while leisure decreases. I was happy to greet some of the other parents today, hat on to cover my wind blown and not so pretty hair. Many of us were bare skinned as well. And we laughed at each other and commiserated. In the summer we didn't have to be here and there and guard bedtimes or worry about chidlren's supplies and assignments and signing endless paperwork and being in compliance with other's rules. There was time to wake slowly, dress eventually, have good hair, put on a coat of mascara and a little bronzer, and do everything at half speed. Now there's always things left unfinished each night. But like anything we'll all adjust. There are pleasures ahead too and plently of challenges. We need those especially to keep us even vaguely interesting...
Smile,
Pen |
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This libido of mine is becoming a problem. One friend described his clamoring need as paralyzing; it's hard to do anything else until release is achieved. Some describe it as taking the edge off. To me, it's like trying to read in a noisy room. A constant low buzz, annoying and in my head like the sound of cicadas. I lose focus and am not at full productivity. Sure, I masturbate. I masturbate a LOT. But for me it does not sate. It simply takes the edge and smooths it for a time. My desire goes from strident to a low hum. But it's still there.
And it's not like I haven't fucked forever. There've been a few. Guru remained astounded at my o's last week. (I'm a freak of nature with the right man.). Super sub and I reached what I consider new heights; there's something delightful in telling a man as obedient as he not to cum. He doesn't until I give him permission. There is a new cock. Surprisingly thick on a man who is more slim than built. But we'll see. CW is always a good standby when neither of us are working, but he's not nearly as fun anymore. He makes sure does push me, but when I cum...I squeeze...and he can't help cumming from such a blatant pussy hug. He makes sure to push me back manually post. But I really wish the fucking lasted and lasted. I miss slow fucking. But I deserve to be spanked if I complain given my current cornucopia of sex. And still it's not enough. I can't imagine why. It should be.
I suppose I still want to be more enthralled by the man over his physical skills. And to be wanted so much that time is made rather then stolen. I want to be just as fascinated by a man as he is by me. And then I think the fucking won't even matter as much. Fucking is one means of fulfillment, but far from a lasting one.
Go get some y'all.
Pen |
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I've been fortunate. The past several weeks of travel, enjoying the children, solving problems, developing confidence in hard choices I had to make, and pleasure have been very good for me. There are challenges ahead, and soon, but as long as I can manage the anticipatory stress, I'll do okay. My mind is best occupied and working, and it's time to get down to work soon enough. Pleasure has taken the forefront and I need to be sure to keep a place for more.
I'm learning a great deal from who Darling Dom has coined, super sub. Lol, superman indeed. He spent the night Friday after I'd had a disastrous date with Zorro. I was too exhausted and pissed off, I'd thought, to Domme the man. But there's something enticing about watching his cock get harder and thicker as I stretch the skin tight around his balls and pull. He's beautiful in his agony. Generally, even as a Domme, I am all about someone else's needs. But this time I let it be about me. Massage, not letting him cum until I was ready, and stroking his skin and cock like a delightful pet. The surprise (though it shouldn't be) is his mind.
He's an educated man. We don't expect muscle-bound hot bodies to have minds or particularly kind hearts. Gym rats we view with a a bias I've been guilty of...shallow, surface-oriented, and selfish. He's none of the above though I'm sure he has his forays into such as do I. I enjoy his transparency in the way he communicates to me, even though I lecture him far too often. He's still hung up on a woman unworthy of him. I'm protective of my male friends and steam particularly at women they treat like gold who respond witthout appreciation or respect.
I enjoy his male perspective. Things like "It's weird. As a guy, you need to stick out in a sea of idiots. As a woman, you have to sift through the idiots." Or reminding me how "lust can be blinding like that" when I pursue unsuitable men like Zorro. I knew Zorro & I would not likely have a mental connection. And culturally and generation-wise, we are worlds apart. But oh, the chemistry. And our reconnection after months was mind blowing. But I forget how it was only with maturity I could say what I do and feel entirely comfortable in my own skin. Zorro's night fell apart on him and he resorted to lying to try to secure my attention rather than being up front. Super sub pointed out that;s immaturity and he's right. But I still left the man of my sexual dreams standing in a parking lot for his mistakes and went home.
It takes a lot for me to walk from a connection. Distrust will do it. Disrespect will do it. And wasting that precious resource time.
Tonight I'm up late as I fell asleep this afternoon after preparing for what my town emergency management dept is calling a hurricane. I'm hoping they're overstating to get residents to prepare. Normally I'd dismiss it with a grain of salt, but after Sandy we're all far more cautious here. CW has been the voice of gloom and doom but he did come by to check on me today and wouldn't let me carry in the heavy groceries that my son's usually do. I appreciate chivalry. My sons open doors for me. They do the same for young women who are like "oh no, that's okay, you go." But I adore their manners as do other adults.
I confess to wishing I were spending this storm doing naughty things with a partner and stroking each other through rounds of conversation, fucking, and pillow talk. But I've been particularly well fucked this weekend already and it doesn't do to let my greedy girl rule. Luckily the only thing I'm truly greedy about is cock.
Pen |
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Now today was stress. But then so was yesterday. It was funny, returning from my escape weekend I could feel my muscles tightening from ankles to neck. Then problem runs when I let the stress creep above my neck to my face. Jaw clenches, eyes prick and I just want to scream. Not so different from the clench before a really good O, just skip the release. But with stress it's up to us to find our release valve.
Sex works. But the problem with turning me on is getting my body to turn back off. In another life I would have been and ideal nymphomaniac or sex worker if my scruples weren't so traditional. Though there are men you just don't enjoy fucking. Too many of them. But the ones you do, who have skills. OMG...and I've been lucky there.
I'm steaming at my ex. And feeling just a bit under the weather since I think part of my new stress response is thyroid inflammation. Sometimes my throat just hurts. Yes, I'm under a doc's care for it, but nothing to do yet. I have a feeling loosing the thryroid and synthroid will be my eventuality, but as far as health issues go, that's small potatoes. So I fume. And the thing about anger to me is that it's such an uncomfortable feeling and I'm so familiar with it, that it's oddly motivating. Anger at unfair treatment got me out of my home town, to college, out of the marriage, and hell probably it the single most motivating emotion I've got. Piss me off and just get out of my way because I will leave you far far behind.
But it hurts me too to feel so much. And I cry like a girl even though it pisses me off. I try not to interact much til I calm down becsause a teary eyed woman is still viewed in our society as weak. And some men think it's a triumph to make her cry; it shows she feel something. I'd rather find that guy who wants to make me smile over cry, though a little screaming in the bedroom wouldn't go amiss.
Took care of some difficult stuff today. And it's funny. I call myself a recovered perfectionist. It gives me untold pleasure to have things in perfect working order, whether it's my car, or my schedule, or a dinner I put on the table. Getting tires for the car last week had me grinning because when I feel my chidlren are being kept safe, I feel safe. And security is a basic need. So is sex. But in my life most days something unexpected goes wrong. Or someone behaves badly and it's up to me to censor or follow through with some kind of sanctions. I can solve problems, but I'd rather not have that necessarily a priority in my life. At least I can roll with it (and cry later). I think that oomes from being a parent. You know...as much as I'm pathologically afraid of insects, I'll kill that spider or centipede before the children have to see it. Or the mouse the cats left. Ick. Or I'll smile and say we all have flaws, but their dad loves them very much. And then I'll remind them of mine.
I am not a fighter. I'm a sweet little hugger. Much of my life is adversarial. I'm sure that keeps me young and thinking. But it hurts.
Pen |
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I escaped to a town I really had no notion of visiting prior to my curiousity being peaked in conversation. Annapolis. At first I felt it way too big and touristy to be fun. But new places can be intimidating initially. But taking my children for a sail on race night, now that was an experience beyond expression, even on a less windy night. Another day ecotouring, crabbing and fishing as the only private party on the boat of a young captain who grew up here in my neck of the woods. The ubiquitous Cantler's crab feast, my children's first time shucking crab, and at least two of them's last. Swimming and walking, and uniforms everywhere at the Naval Academy...not a bad time at all. I'm told it quiets in the winter and I could see a trip there again to watch the December parade of boats and explore bookstores and warm up on crab soup. Once you get out and start walking, it becomes a far friendlier town. But key is the water. There is nothing more soothing than being on the water. That truly is escape.
We'll head to another MD locale in these last few weeks. It's easy and there are so many ways to be on the water that are achievable with a small splurge to the budget. I can't regret any of it, because my children are still talking about how amazing sailing is. It's just a taste, an introduction, so now we'll see if they want to do more next summer. For a woman who can't manage the ocean, the Chesapeake is just lovely. That big old divorce/graduation party? I think I'm going to charter a sailboat and spend the time with those I love best. I'm a girl who needs rewards and goals to be motivated. And with these trip pics on my happy wall, I'm already feeling motivated to kick a@@.
I am feeling like backing off to the ex as the situation I've been struggling with for weeks has produced some results. Not enough. And I know I'm going to be tortured all over again next month, but I'm such a wuss. I want to just back off and give him a break. I really don't know where all this give the benefit of the doubt to someone who is not worthy of it comes from, but really I'm a dumb girl sometimes. In all likelihood I need a good spank to wake me up. But I'll stay the course, reluctantly, but I know I must. I hate conflict. I just want to do what I say I'm gonna and have the other people in my life mean what they say too. I really don't get people who don't. And they end up hurting me rather fiercely.
Anytime I do much of anything, there are issues and problems. It seems like others have smoother sailing. But maybe that's just me looking at the greener grass next door. I solved a few of them today. And I'm going to do more.
It's always a wonder to be home after spending time in a new place. I forget how cool it is to live at the Jersey shore. Driving past outdoor concerts, over bridges that look over the inlet, the great food, and diversity of it's people. I love that. Cats were thrilled to see us, even if the kiddos had to turn around and leave for daddy-o's. Returning to my bed was heaven. Silk pillowcases still on the bed made me want to stay there all day. But I didn't, even if I was slow to rise. I've been working my a@@ off cleaning up and sorting and taking care of business to prevent problems before they happen. I couldn't do it in time for my last issue, but I'm beginning to feel like I've got a bit of control. Now I'm sure I'll be pulling out my hair come September, but for now it's all good.
And wonder of wonders, Zorro of the parties found me. We have a serious vibe going on and that man...mmmmmm...tough to want to fuck anyone else when he's in the room. We'll I gave him me number so we'll see if he's a flake too or not. Last night he was delightful texting. Fascinating hearing his viewpoint. Of course he's all of 30 so wtf I'm doing with this gorgeous skilled Latino man is...well an indulgence. But oh, he's delicious. I have this fantasy of another man, who I call Adonis, (he's African American) and Zorro and I together. I'm a sucker for interracial these days. Pale, glow-in-the-dark fair skinned me and those gorgeous lovers. They are so charming and rather beautiful, and just so skilled...I'll have wicked dreams of a MFM tonight.
Be well darlings and get out and find something beautiful to adore yourselves.
Pen |
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Escape. Fuck it all; it'll be there when I return, but oh boy this is good.
Pen |
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I've lost a few entries today. I'm going to consider that meant to be since clearly some of my meanderings are best lost in cyberspace. I've been astonishingly productive these past 24 hours. You name it. Laundry. Ironing. Unkempt piles of paperwork vanquished. Oil changed. Two new tires. Roadtrip booked and nearly ready. Ex dealt with, given my mantra of kiddos first. It's easy then. The priorities just fall into place. And I've no compunction doing whatever is necessary with that out front of me. I know I'm going to have to take a kick ass legal step at a nod from the judge. So the course is clear if expensive. I've got to stop thinking about this stuff and just do it.
Just do it. So simple. And really that's when I feel best, when I'm doing over thinking. Well I've booked a little adventure. I'm selling off the maritime/military components of my library, just the good stuff that's left. And it's taking me to a town I only visited once before. It was my first vacation ever at age 23. And I'm going back now to sail in a race and give my children their first taste of what it feels like to fly over the water. Fingers crosssed no one falls into the drink.
I'm still on a budget but managed to make it happen if shorter than I'd prefer. But oh, to look forward to just a bit of travel, to blessed escape, is both motivating and freeing to me. I'm going to use up these last days of summer by both working and playing equally hard until I go back to being boring responsible me. Well some of time. September promises to be intellectually challenging in ways that may just make me shine or maybe I'll choke. It'll be interesting to see what I'm made of.
I've found more baubles to sell that I'll be glad to see go. The sentimental things I've let go for funds to build memories now are fairly substantial. And yeah, I'm not holding on so tight to every last penny though maybe I should. Because more precious to me is time. And that's what I know I have now to spend. So spend it I will with chidlren who still want to be with their mother and who I can still be present for a first or two. That's the one thing no one really prepares you for when you have children. And I'm sure some Doms/Dommes experience it with newbies. To be able to be there to give someone a first experience and see the wonder in their eyes is just about the best thing there is to do in this world. And so I've found a way to do that again. And that, darlings, is what is keeping my grin wide, eyes bright, and heart pumping right now.
Wish me well.
Pen |
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Wonderful. Spending the evening with my little family on the beach. Nearly full moon, sound of the waves, a perfect breeze just a touch cool off the ocean, and yes, with my ubiquitious iPad periodically return texting friends looking for advice. Hell, I'm the one who needs advice.
CW helped me today. I hate our discussion to be all about legal strategies and such, but he knows business. And he's a local insider who gets me the scoop on what is reallly is going on. And an objective look at my ex. Still he's protective of me a bit too. And that I miss. He was the first guy I dated who was. And as a protector is someone I've wished for most of my life, well...it was hard to resist. I don't need one anymore as I'm capable enough. But sometimes things happen or you get sick and you find yourself on wobbly footing and incredibly vulnerable. We all need someone in our corner then. And I'm still hoping to meet that guy and be equally there for him.
It really is beyond beautiful. I've given my fisherman and his siblings til 9 pm before it's time to go home and make the Harry Potter Butterbeer recipe my girl has been begging to do for days. Mise en place is ready and she can start mixing soon. I find it too sweet for me, but they adore it. Last night was s'mores though I didn't partake. These last weeks of summer it's time to treat ourselves before we go back to hard work again. I've trips planned and adventures we've never experienced ahead. Smile. I need me an adventure. And soon.
I want to meet a man I want to kiss. Not just a guy I see and want to fuck. But KISS. I don't expect it to happen but then when you dump expectation that's when magic tends to appear. And silly naive me, I still believe in magic
Pen |
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Breakfast with CW today. I miss the man more than a little. No nonsense fucking and a lot of it. Meeting for breakfast or dinner. Making him whisper "fuck" when I nearly swallow his cock (and CW is not a man who whispers...). And that hard, hard fucking and his pure joy in making me squirt a puddle onto the floor when he's fucking me standing up with all he's got, my legs up on the edge of the bed. Or even better doggy (I love doggy)...deep, hard, and my head and chest get pushed into the mattress from the force of his thrusts. He is alpha, though vanilla throught and through. So yes, I miss fucking the man. Still we had a good conversation and he knows the players in my latest drama and is concerned for me. I'm concerned too since it looks like it's going to take extraordinary means to get progress.
I remain a horny, horny girl...closing my door to peek at interracial BBC creampie videos and use my toys. But it's not nearly the same as the real thing. And I need some serious stress relief. Truly only Guru is capable of giving what I need but the man is busy busy busy. Or perhaps 4 cocks would be the equivalent of guru. But that's 4 cocks less that what I have now which is nada. Soooo horny.
Pen |
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It's funny today, or rather yesterday now since it's past midnight, three men I've wanted the most reached out to me today. Two I had relationships with snd some seriously great sex. And one is my failure to launch guy who I was utterly enamored with for months. But I pretty much know going in that with these guys, nothing's going to happen. So turn off the horny girl, flirt a little, but don't be stupid is the order of the hour. I pretty much know, want them or not, not one of them is a make-me-happy kind of guy. Quite the opposite in fact. And really I've had quite enough of that.
Pen |
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I wrote a long nonsense bitch fest that I just lost and I'm thinking it's good I did. Got it all out and then let it be gone rather than preserved here. In any case, there's a rather wonderful passage attributed to Andy Rooney on Women Over 40 that was actually composed by Frank Kaiser in 2000. It makes me want give a fist pump and dance, so I'm sharing it here:
"As I grow in age, I value women who are over forty most of all. Here are just a few reasons why: A woman over 40 will never wake you in the middle of the night to ask 'What are you thinking?' She doesn't care what you think.
If a woman over forty doesn't want to watch the game, she doesn't sit around whining about it. She does something she wants to do. And it's usually something more interesting.
A woman over 40 knows herself well enough to be assured in who she is, what she is, what she wants and from whom. Few women past the age of forty give a hoot what you might be thinking about her or what she's doing.
Women over forty are dignified. They seldom have a screaming match with you at the opera or in the middle of an expensive restaurant. Of course, if you deserve it, they won't hesitate to shoot you, if they think they can get away with it.
Older women are generous with praise, often undeserved. They know what it's like to be unappreciated.
A woman over forty has the self-assurance to introduce you to her women friends. A younger woman with a man will often ignore her best friend because she doesn't trust the guy with other women. Women over forty couldn't care less if your'e attracted to her friends becasue she knows her friends won't betray her.
Women get psychic as they age. You never have to confess your sins to a woman over forty. They always know.
A woman over forty looks good wearing bright red lipstick. This is not true of younger women. Once you get past a wrinkle or two, a woman over forty is far sexier than her younger counterpart.
Older women are forthright and honest. They'll tell you right off if you are a jerk, if you are acting like one! You don't ever have to wonder where you stand with her.
Yes, we praise women over forty for a multitude of reasons. Unfortunately it's not reciprocal. For every stunning, well-coiffed hot woman of forty-plus, there is a bald, paunchy relic in yellow pants making a fool of himself with some twenty-two-year-old waitress.
Ladies, I apologize.
For all those men who say, 'Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?' Here's an update for you. Now 80 percent of women are against marriage. Why? Because women realize it's not worth buying an entire pig, just to get a little sausage."
Smiles,
Pen |
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The heat index tells me it feels like 109 degrees outside and given 5 minutes leaves me feeling like a wet rag, I think they're right. I'd planned on a weekend of festivals and the outdoors with the family, but thought better of it. I have some weekdays free and given travel is always less pricey in any case then, we will manage that. I rarely wait til August to escape and now I know why. But it's taken this long to sort out much.
I'm insanely horny. Am I the only one who think dangerously hot days are best spent in an air conditioned bedroom fucking for all we're worth? I've managed with my naughty red bag of goodies but I need a good long deep hard fucking. Just simple hard fucking. Though I do have my cum fantasies. If only I had a partner who would fill me with his cum than play with my puss, taste it, share it...Hottest thing ever. But ever so hard to find.
Pen |
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I started writing a rant about my ex; then erased it all. We defend him, his mother, office manager, even I..."it's not that he does it intentionally; it's just he's a bad businessman." But a friend called me on it. It's really that simple. He's selfish and greedy or I wouldn't be here. And it really is just that simple. Now that I need to remember.
It turned into an amazing evening here. Staying inside as even as it nears midnight it's still over 90 outside. I said no to movies tonight or tv. And somehow my daughter decided to teach the bane of her existence (her little bro) how to play guitar. Between her sax, him strumming, and the few piano notes someone is tapping out...well, it's really lovely. And utterly unlike my house. But very much the way I would like my house to be. Oh...LOL...they're playing Harry Potter on 3 different instruments. Of course, what else could it be??? LOL...I'm making them get up early and work on the lawn so let's hope it cools just a bit.
I always need escape. But right now I feel rather rooted. I've finally decided on a positon and I'm going to hold firm. Let's hope my opponent is smart. But he's not..Well so be it. It's time to bring it.
I can feel the days of summer trickling away and I'm scrambling to meet a few new commitments which will only increase in the weeks ahead. And yes, I'm WAY behind on emails. I will try! There's so much unfinished business and pleasure I've promised my self and my children. That's first.
But next week...next week I'm going to have an incessant amount of sex. It's time I made people laugh, felt good, and made other's feel the same. I need a party. And I need a great deal of attention myself.
Pen |
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I got very grumpy and very tired all of a sudden and week at the knees last night. I did great, felt back to normal. Even participated in some serious kink. So yay, I know I'm not broken and everything still works. But then boom! It hit me hard. I had to sit. And the children brought me dinner while I had them forage for themselves. Bad mom...but it's not like the house isn't well supplied and they aren't intelligent enough to sort things out. Two hours of trying to get 3 people to agree to a movie and I'd just quit. I've two teens now. Atthough they are lovely people in general, in specific they are far to rigid about their likes and dislikes. Okay, I'll admit it, It's my daughter who I fear is slowly becoming cast in stone, rigid, and unyielding. There are shades of me there but I've grown. However, as a young woman I was unapproachable, of impeccable integrity, frighteningly perfect and very unhappy. I'd like to save her the same fate and painful growing process. I think I'm going to have to pull her from her increasingly narrow comfort zone and get used to the new distance I hate that's necessarily growing between us.
I didn't sleep yesterday night much and I think paid the price. Though I had exquisite reasons for not doing so. I've mentioned my friend and sometimes sub, superman. He's lovely, inside and out, and I look forward to our ability to talk to each other without filter. We all need that. And we'd gotten a little weird as people do who are trying to be respectful but still have no clue quite how to negotiate things with a friend you've been naked with. The friendship is the center but the rest is a mutual escape. But you know, you want to be polite and nice and sometimes we edit our words too much to do so. We are getting better. It's a good thing to be able to say..."WTF? So I talked to...and..." and to have someone say "tell me..." Gets it out of your head, if only a bit, and the opposite sex's perspective is invaluable.
So he's exteme. And he wants to be pushed and hard. I've pushed him very far. And yes, of course it's sexual. But it's different for me. I wonder if I'm really Domme. I don't get aroused when I cause him pain. I am entirely focused on him and giving him what he needs and wants. It's a kinky, sadistic, focused exercise. I do find beauty in him, especially bound. But then he's a beautiful man. And I've always been a sucker for aesthetics. I finally put a collar on him (far different than "collaring" him darlings) and oh my, restraints suit him. I hurt him. Clothes pinning his scrotum had him screaming and though in some way I want to smile at his responsiveness, in another I feel a pang when I go to remove the next clothes pin and know he will soon be in excruciating pain.
So I wonder because I am not callous of his pain if I am Domme? Well even when I had a Dom they cared so perhaps that's not it. And I do enjoy the play. But I get wet from a spank. Not from leaving ball chain marks on his back. And that is unusual for me. Because I am not a woman who is often unready for sex. I know the next step is to make him serve me sexually more, but I am so curious and focused on his response that I don't get there. Domme'ing to me is all about the sub, not I. But post...his face...his release was right there on his face. And that I get. That makes me happy, to bring someone to a new place. I want to bind him again and the creative images that sometimes flood my head are distinctly distracting. And I've yet to photograph him, so many of my images are compositions forming in my head that I'd lke to see and be able to revisit. I'm a sucker for beauty.
I worked so hard yesterday to be where I needed to be and get my chldren to where they wanted to be. And took just enough time to spend a bit of it individually with each child. I did good. But then IDK I just faded. I think I need to give myself more time. It doesn't help that stressors are beginning to increase. But I managed to add money to the bank instead of the usual method of subtracting it and even found more to sell. I'm happy. Truly I'm so happy the jewelry from my marriage is gone. Crazy no? It was beautiful stuff. But everytime I saw it, I'd think of taxes left unpaid, mortgage arrears, and just gross financial responsibility and how fucking clueless I was. Every penny I have might go to attorneys and the legal mess. I don't imagine I'm going to end up ahead. But all along ending up at break even was not a bad goal given that I could just be left spending the rest of my years scrabbling to get out of a hole too deep to ever escape.
I've a big meeting tomorrow. IdK if it's going to give me a picture of anything that will help. But knowledge is better than lack of. And I have to take some action. But fuck it's gonna cost. And y'all know how I don't want to do anything not nice. But I think I have to put on my badass panties and be just that. And it means I'm closer to break even than my still present hope of coming out ahead, then so be it. But something has to be done because right now that deep hole in the ground is looming for the chidlren and I. And keeping us safe if my job. So maybe it's time to just put on my beyotch hat and fight my ass off. I'm mean when I fight. I may live in Mayberry but I grew up street. I've punched pickpockets, persuaded a woman and a boy on another occasion to put down knives aimed at me, and more so I've survived. But Y'know I want to do more than survive. But right now I think it's come to showing my claws and using my teeth. And giving the hired bully his head.
Pray, light a candle, think, or give me a cyber hug. But not for me. For my children. Thanks y'all.
A kinky, trying-hard-to-be-badass,
Pen
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I feel human again. I can think instead of just burrow and heal. The procedure went well even if there were a few irregularities found. And I'll have a week of medium level anxiety while I wait for biopsy results. But it does reinforce that I clearly needed to do it, however unpleasant the process was.
I was right in pushing the anesthesia as a potential issue. MIne is not a body who wants to wake up from la la land. But wake up I did, thought it took an inordinate amount of time. As much as I thought I'd just want to eat solid food afterwards, I was wrong. One of the side effects of anesthesia is low blood pressure and that sense of being so cold that you can't get warm. I've been told the few time before how pale and cold I get (a la vampire). And in the past I'd put it down to blood loss. But I think it's more the anesthesia now. I, of course, pissed off the anesthesiologist by asking endless questions about the med, reversal agents, watching her insert it when she asked me to look away. And my repeated instructions to the nurse to watch the IV. She was lovely as the best of nurses are, those who listen to their patients. And my surgeon, also a woman, a good choice. Call me sexist, but I prefer to have a female working on a female body.
I think I spent 18 of the last 24 hours under the down comforter just trying to get warm. CW was lovely to me and I'm grateful. I wanted to climb into the man's shirt pocket just to be warm. And of course he got a mini woody from my doc, his perfect physical type as I knew he would. He checked on me again in the evening as as much as there was supposed to be no residual pain, I was very uncomfortable. It's odd as there are no nerves endings I thought where they removed their odds and ends. But you'd have to imagine given excising and cauterizing anything there's got to be some trauma. IDK...a learning experience here.
My chidlren, OMG, fortunate I am...were the best of people. They took turns perching on the arm of my chair with their arms around me and conversation. They brought up drinks, walked down the block to pick up dinner, and all-in-all were the kindest of loves. I did prep them that I might be out of commission, but really I had no idea I would be quite so functionless. I will miss them this evening. We're not religious in a traditional sense, but we do give thanks over dinner each day. What truly brought my good fortune home was the sight of all three of them last night coming up and sitting on my bedroom floor next to my chair to say grace together and to be with me. That image will stay with me. They are good souls, those three.
I confess to wishing for a tuck in. Apparently recovery is longer than expected. No lifting for a time and limited travel which throws a wrench in my plans that I'm trying to find a work around. I need to have sex again too as I'm curious if it'll hurt. Best to just do it instead of worry about it to my way of thinking...I'm such an odd woman sometimes. But I'm really not yet myself. I'm too aware of my vulnerability and really more than sex I'm craving a tuck in conversational make out session. Hell, just like usual, I want someone to be nice to me. But then so some have.
Be well and thank you for you kindnesses.
Pen |
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I'm appreciative of those who have reached out. I leave soon. As much as I hate my emotional quaverings here, I'm not going to delete them. It might be a routine procedure but It isnt' routine for me. It's scary and unpleasant and I feel ill prepared. But the experience will ultimately help me understand what a patient's mind set can be, even if they're usually rational, calm, and intelligent enough to know better. We all have our quivers moments and this is one of mine.
And darlings, you have no idea how much I needed your kind words and prayers. A simple kindness to let me know I am not alone. In appreciation,
Pen |
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I'm stressed beyond belief. Not so much by the procedure tomorrow, but because I've never been fully anesthesized. And in the past I've have poor responses to even a bit of anesthesia. Let alone my PITA veins that push iIV's right out. It's one thing when I'm awake and I can hey, it's slipping out again. But now I have trust this outpt center staff. And trust and I aren't the greatest of friends anymore.
Of course I had no appetite this weekend but made myself eat, knowing today and tomorrow I'd be ready to beg for something with texture. I talked to my 93 yr old wonder of a friend about what's ahead. He has skin cancer surgery in the next few weeks; I assured him the girls still love scars. We all love bad boys and pirates. Clear liquid diet today after egg whites for breakfast. I could do this again and might for weight loss. Homemade chicken broth doubly strained and heavy on thyme and a little rosemary from the garden is damn good stuff.
But I'm jittery. And I want about a thousand hugs. CW is coming tomorrow to drive me to and fro and I'm grateful, though I wish it were someone a little more sensitive. Still if anyone can toughen me up, it's him, the brute. But he can't be too much of a brute if he's willing to take care of me for a bit. I'm so scared I'm shaking, and I know better. The things our minds to to ourselves. Like so many other things in my unnecessarily complicated life, it'll get better when it's over and by this time tomorrow it will be. Sometimes and especially for much of this weekend, I'm a wuss.
Send me some hugs y'all, I need 'em. I'm damn tired of being a grown up right now. I want my Gran.
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And oh, as an aside, last night's movie Bad Moms? Laugh out loud hilarious. VERY raunchy. And light. It's true the characters are more caricatures. But the lines are so so funny. Three women discussing how to deal with uncut penises while demo'ing the effect on one wearing a hoodie might just be the funniest thing I have ever seen. I may just go back today to laugh again. A mom of small chidlren regaling her friends on how her hubby's cock never gets entirely hard, so she just kind of fold it onto itself and shoves it into her vagina. And every now and then pushes his balls in too...OMFG. But it's also a feel good besides the belly laughs...celebrating those of us who are great completely imperfect mothers. Girls night out or solo or fuck, go with your partner; the men in the theater were laughing harder than the woman.
Smiles,
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I envy my sub friend. The switch men I meet tend to be more sub than Dom. And it's been a rarity to find a single Dom man who is both my contemporary and who understands the dance of seduction. I read of slaves, service, 24/7, for my use, and all that and just move on. It's so much more. It's about learning and changing and evolving. And it is very much an individual dynamic that forms between two people.
And it's ever so tricky. I hate orgasm control. But of course the elements I dislike would be what a Dom would push. The best of Doms, the few I've met, take what you love to excess until you can't take it anymore. In my case it would be forced orgasm. To bind me and make me take it endlessly until I beg him to stop. I don't think I've ever asked a man to stop necessarily, but more that I would gaspingly tell him that I don't have anymore o's left. And certainly no more squirt. Guru exhausts me in this way. Such extraordinary skills. I cum so hard I'm left with little pinpricks of petechiae on my temples from capillary pressure.
But I find myself feeling a need to sub myself. More kinky sex subbing than the psychological. To sink in to sensation and just feel instead of think has always been what I crave. Though to talk! To really talk without artifice and without fear of a friend disappearing when I'm scared and blue and just plain upset would be a necessary thing for me. And I have. But inevitably when I let go and am just a typical woman with insecurities and tears and in pain, males retreat. As y'all are wont to do. I know a teary woman makes a man want to run for the hills. But next time darlin's, give her a hug as and ask tell her "I know this is tough. C'mere. (Insert hug, kiss, fucking, etc). It's not always going to be like this." I ask my friends when they are in the midst of bs "is tomorrow looking any better than today?" And sometimes just that perspective helps.
Be well darlings.
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The presumptiveness of some self proclaimed subs borders on the offensive. 'Tis a shame to offend because you cannot see beyond sticking your cock anywhere you can manage without regard. These are the men who resemble ill mannered puppies humping the legs of any who give them the courtesy of a reply.
No darlings, I am no longer seeking a sub as I can barely give superman the time he deserves when we can manage. He is a creative challenge as I find new depravities to put him to. But he and I are friends first and he is the best of men, even if he wishes to be treated as the worst. We are simply transitioning each other thru some broken hearted difficulties while engaging in extraordinarily creative pasttimes. I like him as he is one of he good ones. Though I remain somewhat puzzled at my affinity for enflicting pain on a good man. But he craves it so.
A last supper of sorts this evening as I have a medical procedure Monday and must fast most of tomorrow. I was the solo woman at an elegant bar surrounded by men and a few couples. And tonight I dressed for myself. A long flowing dress that hinted at legs while leaving shoulder bare and décolletage noticeable enough that I cover with a cardigan inside. I passed a pharmacy on my travels today announcing the latest flu shot in; Darling Dom claims I was seeking pain myself and he might be right. I almost envy superman his ministrations. But all who work in a hospital setting need flu shots and I'd rather take care of business when I have time rather than in the middle of a busy day. The more I do now, the less headache later. But I'm walking around with a bright red bandaid that matches my dress; it proclaims "I got my flu shot!" I was the first at the pharmacy but I'm a stickler for doing all I must ASAP so I don't can clear my mind and to do list of use dos.
Hmmm...I'm the only solo woman at a bookstore cafe as well while I wait for the late late movie start time I bought online. Something about bad moms. Or rather moms who decline to keep up with the Joneses...seems funny and it's a night for a chick flick. I've been lonely today. And dreamt of far too many bad things to do with men I should not be talking with. Thank heavens I finally decided to do something positive instead. I finally sold my silver and gold and my coffers are increasing just in time. It feels immeasurably good. And a diamond is headed for NY with a friend, so hopefully the price that comes back will enable us to have more security and joy rather than the regret the ring gives me. A very fine piece from the most prestigious house, I won't miss it. And there goes the that beautiful symbol of commitment the ex and I had. It just makes me sad to wear it. I see fiscal irresponsibility when I look at it and broken promises. It's not something I want to pass on the my children. Most of elder men advisers I have tell me to trade it in for something I want and I've always wanted diamond earrings but that seems a lark given the mess I still have to sort out. Rainy day fund I think.
But the jeweler I dealt with was a personal friend of a very great man who is like a parent/brother/friend to me. And he took care of me. Woudn't even let me carry the box back to my car of the larger items that turned out to be just silver plate. Those I'll keep. Though without value, they are lovely and I can restore them to the shelves. Though it'll mean some polishing. Silver and Christmas have long gone together for me. Reflective of candlelight and elegant looking for parties I haven't had in years but am thinking of doing again. Just a simple daytime tea for the odd assemblage to those I like and love. And there's quite a few of them though I keep them all separate. Nothing wrong with mixing them up a bit. One day, when my divorce is final, I look forward to being less careful.
I talked with Darling Dom today who saves me from being a fool and wasting money or time on those I shoudn't. Thank heavens for him. And the two men who run the party I declined to attend Friday. Franco and I became friends quickly though he has a crush on me. He'd met a woman at the parties and the inevitable happened. We women do it; including I. We cling and control and become insecure and make the man we want miserable. It comes naturally and I guard against it myself. But even I slip up now and then. Franco broke it off with her apparently and I think I inadvertently played a role. I try to stay far from the other women and their respective territories. Or just be kind and complimentary and real. But I'm a woman and I can say honestly, we are not nice to each other. Competitive bitches we can be.
Well I was worried about Franco as I didn't know the whole story. But he's well and happier. And grateful I checked on him. He seemed astonished that I spend most of my free weekends solo. My female friends are all married with children and don't have the bits of freedom I do. And males have been remarkably el disappearo as of late. I've lost tolerance. Like Franco I'd rather be free and alone and lonely than with someone and lonely. Simpler at least. Tonight though is a good night and good roadtripping day.
Pen
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Fury would define the middle of my day today. But I don't even know what to say about it. It is related to a personal situation remain mired in despite my best effort to disengage. And I'm coming to the reluctant realization I just might have to be a bitch to get the results I need. I've fought to stay nice'ish in the midst of the soul destroying process of divorce. He, of course, would argue that I'm evil incarnate. And well, maybe I am. Or maybe I need to embrace that part of me.
I've taken on a sub. Now I've rarely considered doing so before because subs are a ton of work. But this was just an long friendship that unexpectedly deepened into kink. Really I was trying to get over a guy I was really into and wanted to escape with more than anything I've wanted for a time. And he was trying to get over a girl who has been filling his head and heart with nothing pleasant. So one night we let ourselves see where we could go.
He's quite a beautiful man just as a rather beyond perfect physical specimen. Not my usual sort as I tend to enjoy those closer to physical imperfection, like me. And I think a decade younger. Though he is educated and intelligent. And now I see how wonderfully gifted he is at service. I've long called him "Superman" for his incredible form and his own approach to saving the world one challenge at a time. He is a very good friend to his friends and those who ask more of him than they should. He is also a bit of a whiner and quite vocal as a submissive. But seems thus far to be eager to please as well.
There remains a pleasure for me in a beautiful man thanking me for his discomfort. I'm not looking for any more submissive males at this time. I have my hand quite quite full.
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I wake before the rest of the house. I fall asleep watching my British period dramas via IPad in my bed and occasionally popping back to my cs window. A frittata this morning from what was left of the farm eggs, the leftover cheeses and last night's vegetables. I made it last night and my eldest son couldn't wait to try, so there's a wedge missing. But it gives me joy to feed those I love. They are an appreciative audience, my children. But they've grown up on leftover party food from grand events. Filet with a sauce I call "liquid gold," petit fours and napoleons, the Hispanic kitchen staff's amazing yellow rice, my executive chef's matzo ball soup, the smoked turkey that arrived every year...and of course we are fisher people. Our trout filet supply is finally depleting so it's time to start fishing again, never a hardship for the boys.
This morning there is time for real tea. Leaves in a pot. I'm a snob when it comes to such things, though not above the bagged tea with milk I grew up with. But when there's time to spend a morning with tea and repeated infusions, it's oolong. I just submitted a piece on tea last week. And essay contest of sorts. I won't get paid for it, but there's something to be said for just educating folks in our world of mass marketed tea like beverages. Perhaps no one will read it for pleasure, but at least the board must and every now and then something I write produces and Aha! Moment, quite often my own. Wedgewood today. The tea set for 12. Part of my past life that I thought of selling. For a time I wanted to sell everything that I had during my marriage and start anew. But I have a few beautiful things that I couldn't replace, leftover from the days when I poached whole salmon for the holidays and flamed cafe brulot tableside. Lobster mashed potatoes with veal demiglace Christmas Eve's. Such nonsense. Utter excess. But it was a time of excess. And unfortunately, waste. I reveled in it. I'm quite attracted to excess, especially the physical.
But now I'm simpler. And I haven't the time. Nor do I have the same compulsion to please others. I was all about doing for others. Taking care. Giving the best of me. And the best of me is/was fairly amazing. In the past it was shown in effort and appearances and saying yes, even when I didnt' want to. Now the best of me is that I care. I care and I help where I can. I do semi-subscribe to Erikson's developemental theories. The age from 35-55 or 65 he calls Generativity vs. Self absorption or Stagnation. We work on stability and try to produce something of value to society. Or we are self absorbed and stagnate. I think it's more a combination of each. But the theory is that you need to go through this stage to get to our last.
Last is Late adult, age 55 -65 to death. And it's creeping up on myself and my contemporaries. It is the time of Integrity vs. Despair. And I do think Erikson got this stage right. It's a time of reflection (I'm a little early there, sometimes I reflect far too much). Some of us can look back with a feeling of integrity, the contentment and fulfillment of a meaningful life and our own efforts to give to something greater than ourselves. But some (unfortunately darlings, it's single older men the most) feel a sense of despair during this stage; they can't help but reflect on experiences and failures and there is a struggle to find a purpose to their lives. These are the folks who wonder what the point of their lives was.
I'm not so concerned with old age, except for health. And sure, it would be amazing to spend the days I have left with that hypothetical soulmate, as agnostic as I am about such a thing. But I know my purpose. And as hard as I struggle, I am fulfilled by my family and good friends. There's more ahead for me to do and I hope I'm given the time to do all I was intended to. But I help people every day. My work and family provide intrinsic rewards. That's not to say when my nest empties I won't feel the lack. I'll miss them deeply. But I know I've done my best for them. And I know it was the role I was meant to fulfill. As was the role I played for my Gran and she I. Even if nothing else is ahead, it's good. But I know there's more ahead. Great possibilities.
Of course part of the reason I'm here and there and trying so hard to connect, is that as pragmatic as I try to be, I still believe in fairy tales. Not so much happy endings, becasue what really is so happy about an ending? But possibility. Potential. To touch and intersect and be part of something bigger than I. And maybe, just maybe that'll happen with guy. But if it doesn't, there's still something to be said for meeting your basic needs in an artful way...whether it's food or shelter or sex...
Smiles,
Pen
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A long, overly frank conversation with the man who used to be my cuckold this evening. Darling Dom has been pleased with me as he tells me to continue to stay away from him and I tell him it's not hard because I no longer want him. And I still think that is true. But it is also true that I thought the man my soulmate, or at least as close as I've ever gotten. And THAT I miss. During our time together my craving for him was a physical need for the sensation of his skin, to draw my finger along his too big crooked nose, and to remain filled with him both physically and in my heart. But honestly, being with that man may just be the worst moral lapse of my life. He was married. I didn't know. And it took me nearly 9 months to figure it out. And oh! I was horrified that I was a party to putting another woman in the role I'd found myself in years before. You see, as sexually progressive as I am, on most other fronts I'm rather conservative. I've never even lived with a man I haven't been married to. I don't believe in abortion for me but support a woman's right to choose. I think illegitimacy is to be avoided. And a whole host of other outdated notions. Ah, and yes, I believe in monogamy.
So he was married. But that far in, I couldn't stay away. And he (says) he couldn't stay away from me. And so I stayed with a man I thought I loved. He lived a distance from his wife as the army does. It was a mistake. It was desperately wrong. And I paid the price of being very unhappy for a very long time. And not liking myself very much either.
It was a big talk tonight. I didn't need it. But somehow it's good for a girl to finally say it all to someone who screwed her over. Because although it brings a few tears to my eyes for that woman I was who believed everything in her life lead up to moment of meeting that man, my soulmate. It made the failure of my marriage finally make sense. It made everything bad that happened okay, because there was a reason. I was meant to be with this man. But I was wrong. Big time wrong. And I spent a long time doubting myself and my instincts when I was this guy. Because he was a brilliant liar. And I was stupid.
But he and my husband did do a job on me. And it matters less now because I don't want either of them. But my expecations are lower. And achievable. They say in my industry to give people smaller achievable goals to build confidence before they can even think of the big ones. It's those little steps that get you there. And maybe that how I've approached men these past few years. Little bits are good. Don't need more. And certainly don't need to feel need.
The man still insists it was the best sex of his life. And it probably was. I've had amazing sexual experiences. Some of which with men I had an emotional connection with. But cuck and I...well, it was the deepest intimacy ever experienced. I am able to talk very intimately these days. But it's not the way it was. But then that was the first. And I was still largely an innocent then. My heart still is because I want to believe the best of people.
I know better with cuck. He's just retired and in transition. We grab at straws when the world we know falls away. And I am just that straw for him. No more. No less.
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A nice guy, but I just wrote "It's not easy for me to say, but as much as I enjoyed our conversation, I don't think we'd work out dating. I am sorry." It's how I'd like to be treated and far less hurtful than disappearing. So there, I was a grown up. And yes, it was hard. And I know I didn't make him feel good at all. Sigh. Better now than lead him on. Better to stop than promote attraction with fewer texts or unkept promises. People deserve respect. How would y'all have said it?
His response? "No problem." I thought how nice and mature. Then he followed it with "I was only interested in you for sex anyway, not dating." "Ya know, friends with benes." Bene go home, I'm thinking. It may be just so, but there's a way to say it and a way to not. I did not respond though I thought that of telling him I had no interest in him sexually either. Ah well, the man has a right to feel miffed. Enough said.
A weekend with my children. A little wine and a salad for me and another episode of Bleak House. British historical dramas are my escape the weekends I can't succumb to my more physical preferences.
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A last date today. I suppose it was an effective use of time. And oh I did say I was going for only the guys who wanted to meet. We spend so long getting to know each other on the Internet. If the appeal is really that strong, we should WANT to meet, not make excuses why we cannot. Well, I achieve my goal there. And you know what? It was really delightful. Even when the attraction wasn't stellar, conversation is such a pleasure. And I really truly enjoy the view of man who has gone through the trouble to make and effort. Jeans that fit, shined shoes, a shirt that's ironed, and cologne....it's been awhile since I was with a man who wore scent. And oh I love that. I learned today about a new park down south, Berkely Island Park I think it was, good for kayaking, fishing and the like. We are always looking to explore new places.
But what I see with the guys who are real and genuine is the same knowledge I have. Life is too short. And we end up alone too much when our nests empty and our lives slow. You still try, and you still do things, but you find it's just not as much fun (or sometimes any fun) done solo. I suppose it's why marriage looks so good to so many. But when you've been unhappy with someone you share a home with, you understand the special hell such an arrangement can be.
Talking more with Superman. Superman sub...the man is delicious. We may do some artful rope pics...all that olive skin and muscle against rope, especially if he's straining against it...could be exquisite. I enjoyed Domme. More than imagined. There was pleasure in making him pull a pillow over head to scream into. That image still stays with me and I barely took him anywhere...Smile,
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Another date last night with one of my fav bi men from my very first party. We connect, and he has an extraordinary always hard cock. It's taken 7 months til I was comfortable enough to meet him privately. But he was working in the area and I'm on some sort of a dating mission (which ends today) so I managed to shake off my exhaustion and go for it. I think I suck a true lover. Oh I'm good at getting the job done and have technical proficiency, but I just want to fuck. Foreplay, esp extended foreplay, doesn't do it for me. And it's hard to find a guy like guru who is able and/or willing to give me just what I want in extended penetrative sex. Well that's not entirely true. There are times when I want a man. When I want HIM and not just his cock. And I suppose there's the difference.
Lunch yesterday. Attractive, a few years older than me, tall, Italian/Irish guy from not impossibly far away. He behaves more Italian though looks more Irish. Kissing my hand. Leaning over for a peck. Really it was one of the best dates I may have ever had. But there are those scarlet flags. I wonder if I'd see a red on no matter who I meets. None of us are perfect. But this guy. He is not a guy who can be without a woman for long; clearly he doesn't like to be alone. I, of course, want to be seen as an individual and adored for who I am rather than a solution to a vacancy that needs to be filled. But then I'm dating a bunch of guys I don't see keeping. Perhaps that makes me the same.
It was a wonderful experience. And we share the same awareness of how short time grows as we age. The opportunity to live, feel, experience, and yes, escape is now. Waiting and waiting for Mr. Right seems I'll considered. Though really I married Mr. Right and look how that turned out. I find as I get older and marriage is no longer on the table for me, that there are a wide range of personalities who appeal to me. And usually there is no ill will. We remain friends. Occasionally if between relationships, we may be lovers for a time. No, it's not hearts and flowers, but it's real and honest. And that's what matters to me.
I have endless emails to answer. And I've been a bad girl, folks in not getting back to y'all sooner. I'd planned to spend last evening connecting and talking to the kind folks who have reached out, but well...I'm doing this dating frenzy. I did something similar years ago. Frustrated by the end of of my first post-marital relationship and the burden my high libido seemed to place on him, I joined a sex site. I didn't know a thing about kink then. I remember it was February and the children were gone on their first vacation with their dad alone. And I meant to use the time well. That was the period I met people who were significant and some remain so. Guru. Cuck. Darling Dom. Dark and awful. And it was the first time my inner bad girl was allowed to come out. Encouraged to come out. And celebrated. And now ever since I still find if I can't indulge that side of me at time, I feel stifled. I need someone who accepts all of who I am and loves my dichotomy.
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I have a date today, a champagne lunch that sounds charming and elegant, but he is complicated. He's way ahead of me and we really just met. I'm told that's the way it is with a lot of guys; they know instantly if you're the girl. But they know if they tell you it'll be too much too soon. And they're right about that. The thing is...a lot of women would be happy with a guy who wants to get to know her. Mind you we met at a sex party though I didn't have sex with him. Honestly? I'd just prefer the sex.
I get so tied in knots (and not in a good way) when it comes to having an emotional relationship. I don't want to be known that well because I don't want someone sitting across the table from me see my eyes tear up when he asks about past relationships. I wish I could erase parts of my head and heart memories. Being betrayed, feeling like a victim makes you doubt not only your appeal, but your perception too. As if we could prevent someone from lying to us. Or we could catch it if we were smarter. I put the responsibility of being betrayed back on myself instead of holding the perpetrator responsible. Because I did pause at a red flag or two, and I knew better, but I still allowed it to happen. So somehow it becomes my fault. Like most things I take on myself. And feeling stupid is just a miserable state of mind.
I'd like to rail and rant and get in someone's face of the guys who fucked around with me. Maybe that's why I like to fuck a lot of guys. It's my personal "See? You were just another guy I fucked. It's not like you matter, you're just a tool to scratch an itch." Because somehow when someone does you wrong, you think fairness or karma or whatever is the balancing factor in the world should give them an equal or more amount of pain. Then it still sucks but it's sort of fair. I don't know if betrayers are haunted by those they betray. They keep doing it usually, so maybe they get stuck in their own personal brand of hell. Or maybe it just rolls off their backs and they don't give a damn. The problem is that I do. I care even when I don't want to.
I want to make eveyone feel better and bring a little light and sunshine to their day. I want to fix things. I want to do right and make it right. It's not my job. And I don't know where the compulsion comes from. It's fucking exhausting. So that's another reason I need my rauchy little escapes. But even more than that these days I need to feel respected. And hell, that's probably not going to happen in a room with excess cocks. IT's so much work to be badass. But I'm thinking that's what I have to work towards instead of toning who I am down.
I don't know what to do on this date today. He knows how to treat a lady. But I just want to fuck him. I don't want a relationship with a guy who is in the "lifestyle" and quite frankly I don't even know what that means. When I'm in a relationship I'm monogamous and loyal. But I still dont' quite believe there's a guy out there who can be the same back. So I stop them before they start. I wonder if I'll be polite and listen to his romantic notions today or just say I'm in it for the sex. I don't want a relationship. Its' not exactly true of course. I don't want a relationship with him. But he's here. And the guy I want isn't. And I know happiness is celebrating what you've got, not in aching over what you don't. But I still ache all the same. Just keeping moving, as if I can outrun it.
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The proof is in the pudding. They say everything happens for a reason. As it applies to male/female relations, we tell each other that it's good he/she is gone because now there's room for the right guy/gal to come along. And we are not wasting our time and energy on someone who just wants to talk instead of live it. Ya ya, I know. We are all trying to believe it. But it's a struggle. Well, I've just returned from a 26 hour date that put proof to that theory.
All I needed, really needed, was an escape. And I decided to not give anyone the time who wasn't willing to meet and soon. A guy I didn't know well invited me over to his place for drinks by the pool, boating to dinner, and conversation. It was bold and risky to say okay. But he was upfront about his name, profession and where he lived and I Iooked him up. Corporate leader during the week, fabulous host and very sexual man on the weekends.
He's not the first shore bachelor I've encountered with a boat in the water for his backyard and a house of comfort and beauty. These guys are superb hosts, food and wine afficianados, and usually a closet or a room full of naughty toys. They are charmers, if a little lax on nudity by their pool, and most of their neighboring husbands live vicariously through them. They are thorough lovers and very comfortable with their toys as cocks don't keep the same capability with age. They dress well (better than I!) when going anywhere but spend their days at home hanging free in swim trunks and a tee. And they all have mostly successful careers over jobs, and either one or no broken marriages in the past. I can't say I fully understand this kind of a man. They're entrancing and appreciative of your company, love to have someone to talk to besides their dogs, and very conscious of growing older alone. But we are all lonely, even those of us with partners.
But you know, he was just precisely what I needed. My age. Gets the social niceties. But still able throw convention to the wind and skinny dip in broad daylight in the pool. We talked for hours before he pulled me to him and kissed me in the pool. And darlings, yes, he's kinky. And I was a rarity for him, a woman completely honest and open about sex. I don't need convincing to fuck. It's my favorite thing to do. And I'll discuss my fondness for bi men, sharing cock, kink, and multiple men. He felt completely free to discuss his world with me and who he is fucking. But to him it's not about the fucking. It's about the fun and the connection and the mind. He too has a mind that isn't quiet. And like me sex, esp kinky sex, puts one in the moment like nothing else. I feel instead of think and that sometimes is just what I need. To get out of my head and into sensation.
So let's see...this weekend in a nutshell. Fucking, check. Multiple men, check. BJ's so good they couldn't help cumming, check. Conversation, check. Kissing (oh I love kissing), check. Staying up far too late and losing track of time, check. Squirting, check. Hot cum on my breasts, check. Filthy talk, check. Domme'ing, check. Being submissive, check. Bondage, given and received, check. Candle wax, check. Pot, check. Great food cooked by my host, check. Skinny dipping, check. Swimming, check. Boating, check. Incessant flirting, check. Endless sex toys, check. Heat and cold play, check. Spanking, check. Screaming, check. Hair pulling, check. Biting, check. Begging, check. Tantric sex chair, check. Choking, check. Plans for more, check.
So ladies, make room for that opportunity. And when it comes, it's always an unexpected and blessed surprise. We all need a few good screaming o's. Love and hugs.
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An interesting start to the weekend. And no, at the start it wasn't filled with o's but still there were some. Party was a bust. Almost literally. I did have dinner with two charming men and a date at long last on offer. This one fun. I might just get a little high and spend some time on a redo of mostly innocent youth...live music, a guy with a hot car, and some wild times. I SO need a mid-life crisis right now. Hell, all I need is a little escape. That's all I ever need. A little escape and I'm ready to go back to the hard stuff.
Sooo...I finally invited superman over. He knows my struggle with this ghosting guy and he recently had the same thing happen to him. So we've been cheering each other on and reminding each other to stay off social media and for god's sake, DON"T text 'em. So damn hard. You want to ask WTF? Can't just use some words and tell me WTF is up? But it's one way to test a person's mettle. Best know earlier rather than later if they aren't someone who can do the hard stuff and treat folks right. I'm still rather bummed. But dammit I am trying so hard to not be.
We'd met before, superman and I. But I'd never touched him. He initiated the contact, a surprise to me. But welcome. Such a beautful work of art that man's body is. And he has a brain. But he also has a sub side. And for the first time in forever I played show and tell with ALL my toys. He's an extreme sort of sub, or thinks he is. Last night was the perfect night for me to see if he is really the man he says he is. And he can take it. He probably close to a true masochist. I'm no sadist, but I do enjoy the role of Domme. He wouldn't use a safe word and I pushed him to. I think he needs to be bound next time. But oh, the vocalizations were delish. And he listened so well. And he did well the few instances we flipped roles. Fabulously he doesn't like cold and I have a great fondness for cold metal in my play. So many ideas floating in my evil little brain...Thank you darling man for saving my evening and letting my long lost inner Domme come out to play. It was such fun actually using those beautiful toys.
Yum.
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What a difference my legs make...and that corset!
Thank you darlings. Apparently men really ARE visual creatures. And so very lovely. I've a party tonight. It's been several months, since my birthday actually, since I've played to excess like I'm apt to do there. Part of it was my interest and time focused on a particular man who struck my fancy. I really should know better, but I find myself still suseptible to players. You know what it is? I'm not attracted to the very buff GQ guys the way I am the more average Joe with above average intelligence. The brain gets me every time. BUT I make an assumption that is probably a fallacy. I think average guys are nicer than really hot ones. Why should that be true? Because they have to work a little harder to seal the deal? They need to have more personality shine through? IDk, but invariably I get stuck. I fall for the average joe player even though I know better. Looks have nothing to do with heart or maturity. Heaven knows why I assumed otherwise.
This post is mostly for me, to remind me what to look out for and what I always forget. Infrequent contact but heavy duty charm about how they have no time but find themselves thinking of you even though they haven't written for awhile. Compliments and self depreciation. He couldn't even attempt to write as well as I in my conversational style, so prefers to talk on the phone. Distance. If he's not local and I spend time talking to him, I'm gonna get screwed. Future faking. Let's rent a bike and do Sonoma; Maine! I'll pick you up on the way. And failure to make it happen,failure to meet...means failure to launch. I've a whole file of those filled with cock pics and the like. And I'm getting tired.
We forget this is not real. The words andi interactions we exchange here. It sure feels like it. I'm putting myself out there and being the real me. And I care about everyone...learning from them and trying to help if I can. Because there are a select few, and darlings, you know who you are...who save me some evenings when I'm lonely and dismayed and capital SAD. And by far the majority of them are lovely women who have been where I am and who get my words because they live it. Sisters, keep talking to me. As much as Ilove kinky men, I value your correspondence..it's a gift and keeps me going more than you imagine.
So I'm still trying. I tried to keep it to just character wtih a few shots of what I look like to see if I'd meet anyone. But now I'm going back to starting with the sexual me. Maybe it's ass backwards, but I've had some great relationships start that way in the past. Sex is tremendously important to me. If we connect there, sometimes the rest follows. I only look traditional and most of my values are. But I'm definitely a square peg in predefined roles. I need range and freedom. I need sexual escape. But I also need a guy who makes my synapses fire from just talking with him and who I make smile incessantly. And I need vis-a-vis. To reach over a table and touch his hand to make a point. To have him push back my hair when it falls toward my eyes. To hear inflection and to see hie eyes widen in surprise while the corners of his mouth curve upward.
So I'm going to a party and I'm pulling out all the stops. Wish me well darlings. I'll have butterflies in my stomach and knees a'knocking, But I have a new dress that drapes like nobody's business and my duplicate of the heels I used to seduce cuck, the sexiest strappiest shiny black patent sandals imaginable. And I'm mani and pedi'ed down to the tips of my fingers and toes. Shaved and satsuma polished skin. Hair blown out. And a beautiful young man texting me to meet him there. He's not kinky enough for me, but he is a beautiful pet.
I would love to meet a proper cuck or even simply a man older than me who is sexually progressive and wants more of me. But I think I'm a little intimidating there. I'm going to try hard to do better and be more girly and less comic central. But there's a joy to having a roomful of people both fucking as hard as they can and laughing as hard as they can at the same time. That's my surprising gift. And I DO make people feel better. So that is doing something good.
This'll hold me. Give me that shot of oxytocin orgasm does. That feel good feeling. But I'm still lonely. I still miss connection and that sense of possibility. And how fucking good would it be to trust and be trusted again? Well, we get what we get and best be happy with what IS. It's less than what I want but more than I have any reason to expect. So I'll be happy. Just talking vis-a-vis with real people about sex is a happy-making prospect for me. So be it.
Happy weekend, y'all.
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Karma.
Yeah she's a bitch I hear. And I've done a few things in my life to deserve a little wrath. But I've done a whole lot more good.
I read Wayne Dwyer's quote "how people treat you is their karma; how you react is yours." Still thinking about it. Definitely action comes back around in the shape of consequences that reflect that action. But reaction's part I didn't get. Put I think he may have something there. If I react to someone's action with negativity; I'm just keeping that bullshit going. But if I can let it go or let it roll...well, then my action removes it's ability to harm me.
I'm a reactive chick. It's great in bed...your own private porn show now and then. It's not so good if you do something I perceive as disrespectful or wrong and I come out swinging. Some folks like reactivity and equate it with caring. "If she gets this upset, she must really care about me." But play that game darlings, and you end up toying with someone's heart as if you were a cat and it a mouse. And even if the pair survives, it's not without wounds.
I KNOW my heart is a battered thing. Patched together and probably not very pretty. But it's strong. And even though it hurts like hell and I cry way too much, I'm going keep feeling. I've made a big effort to stop numbing down what I'm going through with wine or escapism. I need to feel pain and pissed as hell to effect change or I'll hum along happily in the status quo.
Each day I do more. More of everything there hasn't been time or energy for before. I'm addressing a shitload of issues. And I get all pissed about not spending my time well, since now I have that rarity, leisure. I am in search of new experiences and a new companion.
And maybe I have to learn these hard lessons to teach me what I DON'T want. But I need to focus on what I do. And that's a guy. A great guy to do things with on my weekends free and have kick ass sex. Conversation too. But I'm about the doing. I need to live outside of my mind in a very real physical reach-out-and-touch-him sort of way. Tactile is necessity to me. I express myself best through touch and I feel deeply connected that way. So I need someone who understands that.
Still thinking, still learning, and still trying like hell,
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So let's talk about oral. I know I ranted about guys who don't get blowjobs not getting them because they suck in bed. Clearly I was pissed writing that. So apologies gentlemen. Here's the thing though...almost anything "expected" takes away the joy. For the record, I love giving a bj to a responsive man. And I have some skill. If a partner's cock is a little too thick for me to take deeper, I ask him if I can just pull it out and practice now and then. I've yet to get a "no."
Now admittedly it is tough to spend any length of time on a guy who keeps his privates un trimmed. Darlings, we shed. And hair in a mouth that is trying to swallow your cock just breaks her focus. Besides there's something both hot and tender in bald balls. OMG I love to play with them. And the build up before getting to cock...groin kisses and nibbles...that anticipation...well, it helps if you go moderne.
Here's the thing that gets in the way. Expectation. I'm told it's not a good night for a guy if he doesn't get blown. Even if he has sex. He's a little pissed he didn't get a bj. I don't always think of doing them. And if my thyroid is acting up, I'm probably not going to be able to do it long enough to be what he wants. I do, however, find taking him to that edge,where you feel his cock swell and tingle in predication of cumming...so HOT.
There are very few men I'd take their cum in my mouth (or anywhere). HIV is just as infection through oral as it is through vaginal sex. Chylmydia can be transmitted orally as well. Fluid bound is fluid bound. I'd love to be that with the right guy. But I'm not taking mystery cum down my throat. But I want to. I've a serous cum fetish, but the risk doesn't outweigh the reward. I love to watch a man cum...hottest thing ever.
So I get it. There are a lot of women who don't give BJ's. And you tend to get less of them the longer you are in a relationship. I will say...it's not easy to do. A woman def needs to be in the mood. Asking for a bj if she's not in the mood for sex isn't going to go over well. Asking for a bj if she's on her cycle, isn't going to go well. He'll just asking isn't going to go over well. BUT...telling her how beautiful her mouth is and how hard the thought of it makes you...or you've never had anyone make you feel so amazing (yeah I know it's a stretch)...or you couldn't think today thinking about the last time she surprised you and put her lips around the head of your cock...Get the idea?
But for heaven's sake, clean it. That faint taste of piss isn't going to have her eager. And trim/shave. The effort will be noticed and appreciated. And make noises. An "OMG" or "fuck!" Will stay in her head and make her feel capable and want to make you make those sounds of desire again. You're visual. We're mind fucks. If only we could just meet in the middle and try..
In case y'all couldn't tell, this girl is in a capital M-O-O-D! Grrrrr....Too much energy and not enough sex or just real talk..conversation...Could use some cyber hugs.
Pen
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Trying really hard to turn negative energy into positive today.
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A kick ass great time tonight, even if all told it was 3 hours of driving. Y'all know we have a rodeo in New Jersey? An historic one. I try to roadtrip my way to doing things I hven't done or seen before. Generally, even if it's not my thing, I have a good time and a stretch outside my comfort zone is truly the best thing for me. Well I heard it's family friendly and so I thought my wee family and I would try something new. I cannot believe how much I enjoyed Cowboys doing crazy ass things. But OMG it was mesmerizing.
Bull riding is not for the faint of heart. And yeah, the rope was nice to see being used in very practical ways. Love a man with rope. And I admit, most of my life I've been risk adverse. But these guys and ladies, I've got to admire them. There's something enthralling about watch something so visceral and Americana and a little bit crazy. I think we were all surprised how much we enjoyed ourselves. And hell, now I don't give a damn about a Saturday night date. I'm going to the rodeo.
I could pack a little wine and cheese if I wanted. It's relaxed and you can bring in your own cooler. No one was utterly shit faced. But def some folks enjoying themselves. But lots of families. And the occasional cowboy watching.
Now I dated a cowboy once. My first published piece was about a Cowboy and Sushi. He went back to Nevada and got married, but he was my first post separation guy. And the first guy I dated that I never fell in love with. Unfotunately he wasn't the last. I still think it's wrong to date a guy who is more into you than you him. But it's probably the best arrangement for someone like me. I have my own confidence issues like most and it does me good to be loved. Shallow, but I don't like feeling more than I should for a guy. Those leftover betrayals of my husband and my cuck...well, they sure did a job on me. So it takes a great deal for me to plunge into the deep end. It hasn't happened since those two. I half wish it would and would turn out to be a deep honest friendship even if it didn't work romantically. I need some faith.
So a guy on my vanilla dating site stood me up on another vanilla site. He found me here. But before that he found me on a swinger website. Funny how the girl next door didn't float his boat enough for him to actually meet. But them he gets all hot about how sex positive I am and tries to reel me in again. You what? If you don't like the responsible girl-next-door caretaker me, you sure aren't getting the I-want-to-swallow-your-cock-til-I-gag me.
I'm going to rant a little. And gentlemen, you may want to skip this part. So there's a population of men out there who don't like women very much. They've gotten out a relationship where they felt like a paycheck and didn't get what they consider their fair share of regular blow jobs. And now it's like they feel they are owed something. And sick of women who they think say one thing but mean another. Now I don't know quite what that means, but I've heard it a dozen times. But the thing is..they don't seem to realize how negative they present themselves. And dudes, maybe she doesn't want to fuck or suck you because you aren't that great in bed. There are a surprising lot of men who still come in the first 10 minutes and count how many times they gave a lady oral vs how many times they got BJ's..and they're pissed if there's a perceived inequality. CW pulled that for a time.
Dude, if she's not blowing you it because you are pissing her off. Give and you get. Expect and everyone gets stressed out.
I have to get over my brief infatuation with a more sophisticated male. OMG...if I spend too much time doing theater and opera and jazzy quartets I will turn into a little old lady faster than you can blink. Ossification. Petrification. It hasn't happened becasue I'm a moving target. I like ridiculous things. And things that aren't quite classy even though most people describe me as that. I like to shoot stuff. I like guys who can fix things. And I really like a guy who isn't afraid to get dirty. And yeah, I like a guy in a big ass truck. Suits bore the hell out of me and a suit to me, demasculinizes a man. Most women feel the opposite. But give me a guy who can pull off a tee shirt and jeans while talking something brainy and I melt. Add a Harley..and fuck... I miss a that damn Harley.
So yeah, I like blue collar guys who read. They make me feel incredibly feminine. And if they think it's cool that I sometimes use big words...awesome.
I'm trying to expand my dating pool. I jsut so fucking want that escape. I want a weekend of fucking. I want to laugh and make my partner laugh. I want him to let me tie him up with his best tie or the tie down rope from his truck. (See I can work with both!). I want to push him and surprise him and make him smile. And I want him to surprise me. To treat me like the lady I am and turn me into the slut he wants me to be. And it's not a word I use lightly. I need to feel his respect and desire to got there. But I've already seen that I can go very far indeed...
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Some nights I crave the tuck in. But. It's more than that of course. I crave a deep licentious and maybe even dark evening. I crave fucking,yes. But I crave kink too. That surprise Yelp as a hand hits my ass. The hiss of my breath at a bite. A whimper as he has both nipples pinched and pulled between his fingers. His fingers entwined in my hair, directing my head where he wants it...oh I want a man to take me deep and I want him now. But dreams will have to suffice until I find a man who is willing to indulge me the way I will him.
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Listening to my children hold court at the dinner table. I left the table a good 20 minutes ago. Simple pork, local wax beans (my girl's fav), and roasted local potatoes. They stay and eat and talk like I expect they will continue to to do as they become adults and gather together. Today my daughter is discussing Venus's fire and ice, something to do with matter, and gravitational pull affecting weight depending how one stacks boxes. Who are these chidlren and who put me in charge of them? They seem to get that dinner is sancrosact. Esp if it's a proper sit down one, which I attempt to make most of ours. But I end up leaving the table before them to begin the clean up...omg...now they're talking about how the universe is constantly expanding. What have I done? Bred scientist geeks?
They're fabulous, but I can't explain it unless you were to be like me, listening in the other room in awe and thinking I might not be able to keep up.
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Vis a vis. French of course. It means face to face. And it's magic. We talk here and we text and those ARE connections. But we were built to read our environment and the people in it. And we can't do that without that beautful vis a vis. It's still valid, our connections here and there. But think how easy it is to walk or erase someone who doesn't fit your tastes if you've never met them. See a face and you respond. Sometimes positive; sometimes negative...but you do gain knowledge and surety and fill that higher human need of social support.
Well today was a vis a vis day for me. After finally biting the bullet and doing still more financials for my attorney last night, I emailed him to call me today at his convenience. He asked what took me so long essentially. And I'm glad he and I can be so matter of fact. I told him because I really don't want to do this. And I was pulling the same behaviour my ex does and avoiding it becasue I don't think anyone wins when you go to court. And I'm not convinced the cost will be worth the relative benefit. I had to be in town today anyway and told him I'd drop the numbers by his office. I'm really glad I did. We met briefly and he asked me to tell him how I feel about this. First attorney who ever asked me that. He allayed a few fears and after we discussed the numbers, he agreed that my cost benefit analysis (really it was just instinct on my part) was right. And we came up with another option. It might not work. But I can live with my moral choices more when I'm not staring a ball rolling that's going to just pound my chidlren's father into the ground. There are hard choices and I have to be firm here but I also need to stay true to who I am. And that feels a better choice. We will see how it plays out. My expectations are reasonable and backed by a court order. So perhaps with 3 other white males in the room telling him, yeah, he has to it...he will. We'll see.
I had another problem that wasn't getting resolved. I showed up at the showroom. This is why I still try (when I can afford to) patronize small local businesses. Now I'm the lower end value customer these days and pretty self-depreciating about ti. But I still look the girl I used to be, treat people with respect and humor, and try to work with them. It was good I did. I brought my youngest beautiful son along too; he's my secret weapon with his spun gold hair and blue blue eyes. And we talked and I did my own trouble shooting and yes, looked it up on the we and finally they wanted me to call the company of origin...I was polite but I wasn't going anywhere...and still under warranty. They finally just handed me a newer version of the expensive part I bought last week and said just take it and see if this works first, but call us with the serial and model number and we'll submit. And it did. I think the first part was an aftermarket knockoff. And if anything, I've learned to pay for the original and stick with quality. It works.
Good interactions with the children too. Firm about them holding up their end of the chores. Firm about my youngest and his quick flashpoint. Consequences. But love. He apologies and means it. I hope I'm getting through. He and I butt heads as he is so like his father. And I want to raise children with coping skills who are mature and kind to people. And can do the hard things when necessary and apologize when they are wrong. But most of all, who can be real. And deal. My mission is to eradicating passive aggression in this family if I can. It's insidious and causes so much damage to personal psyches.
Okay, ya ya...you want the kinky parts right? Well, I haven't DONE anything. Not for lack of trying to connect, but I just haven't. So I've been working on endless undone tasks to take all this excess energy and try to use it productively. I crave connection. I crave those things I haven't done is ages because the work of a family that falls mostly on one parent is never done. Dinner parties with OMG the food I used to make...mango and shrimp quesadillas or smoked salmon/avocado ones with real fresh tomatillo salsa. Squeezing untold limes for fresh margaritas. The crepe bar I used to open my house to on weekends (it's the only thing I miss about my ex, his crepes). People relaxing while I worked and popping in here and there. I always liked back of house roles; but now I'm the center so I have to fill those shoes as best I can. And I'm pretty good at it, but I get ...sad/angry/overwhelmed/blue/curious-as-to-how-I-ended-up-here.
I adore my role as parent. But I want and need more than ever to be just Pen. An adult. A woman. A lover. An educator. A sparkling presence in a room. And I need recognition of who I am exclusive of the children. They will always hold my heart and be my center. And it is my most fulfilling and important role. But having a family is also a cage. There are necessary limits on time, finances, and what I have given to others and other pursuits. I'm stretching that a bit. I need more to feed my soul. And I'm def more active and stepping outside my comfort zone. But I need to see my people. Those I have history with or those I may just make some new history with. Fellow adults finding their own way through and mutually supporting and learning from each other. I need more of that. Way more. I can't live just for my chidlren even though I have. The time isn't so far away when I'll nudge them out of the nest and I've given them good tools to succeed. But if I'm lonely when the house isn't as full now, I'm going to be extremely so when this nest is empty.
I talk to the chidren about male/female relationships. Because really they don't remember when their father and I lived together. And they see his dysfunctional one. And aside from an occasional guest at dinner and sometimes fishing buddy past boyfriends...they haven't even seen the dynamic. I'm trying to make room in my life for that man who just keeps me smiling and me him. I'm even looking for a bigger bed. Now that's thinking positive, right? I remain convinced that someday I'm going to be very very fortunate indeed and come across a guy who thinks the same about me. I get so CLOSE and I think yay, but then inevitably there's a shut down. It comes back to vis-a-vis. When that happens, when you see it, you just know. And so I hope I do.
But in the meantime, I'm dealing. But damn it's been a long time since fucking.
And oh, the vampire mitt came today!
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Quite an evening. And OMG, I was blue. No capital BLUE blue. Thank heavens for such a GOOD friend and limitted filters. We went shooting even though my arms are still sore from yesterday. One of his 9mm's has a serious kick and it took me a long while to figure out it's grip. But I got better. Great sights. I need to upgrade mine. But then I'm a chick who usually just makes do with what she has. Ha! Maybe that's my problem...I should expect more.
My hair is a mess of tangles from the convertible. If I didn't know better I'd think I had post sex hair. I had a hat. But I wanted to feel free and completely unbound. That's what sex does for me. I really need to address my liibido soon.
I've been a bad cop lately with my family and felt an inadequate parent as a result. But results are proving it necessary. My eldest has settled in to an academic challenge he feared but is enjoying. My middle child continues to do what she must to get better, no matter how distasteful. And my angry youngest continues to be a challenge, but made it through a difficult day and I held my toungue a bit better. Perhaps he'll develop confidence and not need so much reinforcement, negative or positive. But he has show a charming level of initiative and that is to be celebrated.
More achieved today, though still not the hardest part yet.
And interestingly enough, I heard from cuck who is envious to excess of my recent adventures. I shouldn't. But then I talk to others who I probably should not. I'm going to change my dating profile to something far more provocative. Give a glimpse of my strong libido and sex positive state. And of my curvier curves. And humor. And talk about how I have such limited time as a parent, student, and worker bee...which is soon going to get shorter. But that I want to spend the time I do have with someone intelligent, passionate, and who smiles a lot. Maybe someone who understands what it is to have a family and put their care first. How hard it is to finish any one task to completion, but how rewarding it is to be lovely and to love so deeply. If I could just find someone who finds his time free as precious as my own and wants to spend it exploring with a woman like me...well, that would be joy. And I need me some joy.
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I am all over the place emotionally. The thing is...I don't handle rejection or perceived rejection well and I fight my sensitive nature all the time. Plus I rather hate when I'm told no. But don't we all? I know I'm this edgy because I need to fuck. But even more so I need to fuck someone I feel connected to and that is the hard part. I want the kissing and the pillowtalk and the laughter.
Finding someone who is both cerebral and physical should not be so hard, especially given I work with some truly brilliant people. But it is. I suppose that's what it is to be sapiosexual. Well...actually...I do have someone on the cerebral side to share pillowtalk with. But usually it's on opposite sides of our cell phones. I enjoy him so. Now if I had a cuck...I could talk with him and be served by a proper cuckold at the same time. He could listen to this charmer make me cum on the phone just by his voice...But I don't. And I'm not sure I want one. Monogamy is still my fallback. But I'm learning monogamy might have some twists to it. I am still, at heart, a traditionalist in most things but sex. An ethical slut like the book of the same name (though don't dare call me one!)
I mentioned CW asked me on a proper date this eve but it was likely something would get in the way. And it did. A perfectly valid excuse. But he's at about 50% follow thru rate and even as much as I like the man, I end up feeling bad. Because c'mon girls, we all know no matter how good the reason, he'd be with you if he really wanted to. And I want to be wanted beyond reason. Just once more. I've been wanted like that before and never truly appreciated it. But to have a man I genuinely like feel that way about me...now that would be heaven.
Maybe that's why I like the parties. The men have to compete and brings them out of their shell in very real and obvious ways. They're on the their A game. And reallly it's not so much a function of me as it is basic male competition with each other.
As much as I practice self care, live authentically, care, respect boundaries and all that bs...I realized something in a chakra healing practice last night. I don't feel like I will be treated with kindness and respect. I know it's a function of that falling true a bit too often. I wonder what I'm doing to allow to occur. Wrong people? Being too patient? I treat folks the way I want to be treated. But I think my hesitation to engage is what is getting in the way right now. Or simply sheer exhaustion.
I've been remarkably successful in getting some things done. Not, however, the legal stuff I need to do. It sits wrong with me in such deep ways to fight so dirty. I know I have to. But I really don't want to. And maybe forcing someone to do something is simply the way you must do with some personalities. But IDK...what adult would submit to that? It's awful and it feels awful to be part of any of this. But here I am in a place I would never have imagined. I gave him more time. I gave him more space. And I still got fucked. Sigh. Sort of what happens relationship wise to me too. I should just chuck everyone I'm talking with and stop trying so hard.
But some small part of me is still that girl who believed in just a little bit of magic. Hopeful. Why do we write or read or lament or celebrate so many stories of love, connection, passion...if it's a myth? We've all felt it or come close. And I want it. I want to lose myself so nothing exists in that moment but he and I. But finding a a partner for that is a slow process. And I'm not a patient lady these days.
I'm falling asleep sitting up at my desk typing this. Heaven knows if any of it will make sense. Kudos to darling Dom for saving my evening. Top down and my head will clear. And he can tell me to dump everyone and just focus on work again. He's right. But damn fool me...I never give up on people. That's great for my kiddos. Not so great for my patched up heart.
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My single favorite toy is the vampire bunny mitt. But I'm very specific about it's design. And I've been looking for one for several years now since mine got left behind on an army fucking extravaganza weekend. Smile, yes, well...that's a story for another time...when I was very very bad.
So essentially the one I have searched for is a rabbit fur mitt. Fur on both sides. But deep in the fur on one side are spikes. It is the most irresistable of sensation toys. So much pleasure combined with something that has a wicked bite. So delicious that.
Well I finally found a company who makes them. I'm reserving tooting their horn until I receive the product. But once I do, I wonder who will volunteer to be my test subject?
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It's not easy to head to the urban wilderness of North Jersey in the middle of a thunderstorm to a sex party for a single woman, but I did. Mostly because I told a friend who was running his first party that I would and he asked me to please be there for him. I really wanted to flake and say sorry, no...but some of us have to be the folks who do what they say they are going to do. I think it's especially important since we're a dying breed.
Now admittedly being a woman of my word is a hot point for me. Or rather wishing the people in my life had the same standards is my personal cross to bear. Because these days it's not that way. That's why I stuck with CW for so long. For a long time he valued what I did. The real deal. Having each other's backs. And lending support when needed. I popped by his office Friday, all dolled up for the party...he kept going on about if I'd changed my hair or whatnot. I think he had a clue I had a "date" as he asked me out remarkably in advance. We'll see if he's not "too tired" that day (the single worst excuse to cancel a date in existence). If a guy wants you, he's going to do whatever it takes to have you. But few of us are comfortable with that level of focus and passion on us these days. I'm one of them, even though I'm conscious of the obsessive types.
Last night. My host is law enforcement. Love that. Cops are the kinkiest of men and need to lose themselves from the bs they deal with everyday more than most of us. The whole shebang...the military hair cut (oh, I've missed THAT), talking firearms, canine narcotics dogs, mutual people we know, the restaurant biz, having sons...He asked me out. But then the attention at these things does my 50-yr-old ego good. Several guys asked for my number. But men are predictable in that way. I didn't play, so that makes me more desirable...such a crock this game is. If we are available, they don't want us. If we're not, we are irresistable.
Honestly? Sigh. I'm far simpler than the games. But I know men are programmed the way they are and a harder to get woman is the one who has more value to them. They want to work for her. The problem is I don't want to work that hard or play such games. It wastn't a game to get dates for me last night. I just wanted to be social with the sex positive people I hadn't seen in a few months. Can't really do that if I'm flat on my back for two hours. But oh, I had fun. I allowed a little groping, but only on top of my clothes...poor men felt like sophomores again. And I did plenty of caressing of instantly hard cocks. I do love the texture of cock. That impossible hardness combined with that softest of skin. And the sizes and shapes and variability of their lovely helmets...
Bi men hold a fascination for me. I suppose it started with the old cuck's proclivities...but men are so primal and raw and purposeful together. No bullshit. And that's rather my approach. Well I did mosey on in at the end of the evening when several men were going at it on my host's bed, including my host. And fantasy of fantasies, one of the men asked me "Let's share his cock?" That is the single hottest thing on my sexual bucket list I haven't been able to do. OMG. Being a nose breath away from a man with another man's cock down his throat is a turn on for me. And when we both used lips and tongues at the same time on that cock...Delish to excess...Of course now I want more...
Want is not a good state of mind for me. Some people crave it. But an excess of want just makes me leave and find something I can actually have. I'm a wee hormonal and a little sad. There's always a drop in coming down from excess excitement. Plus the children are away. My girl was just diagnosed with a hopefully curable illness that requires a month of intensive antibiotic therapy so I wish she were here. I need to take to care ot those I love. Hell, I need to take care of almost everyone. It's what I do. But I best see to myself.
Be well darlings and do try to get laid well and hard. And hell, tell me about it! Please!
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OMFG...the parties are back and now at a private venue. I went, though nervous. Get this girls...my host is a cop. Fuck, fuck, fuck...I'd given up uniforms. But oh! We got along. And Italian cops..total fucking yum. The guy made me expresso before I left with sambucco and the perfect amount of crema. Tats, military hair cut, and bi. I love bi. Made my bucket list tonight. Smiles smiles smiles,
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Not a bad day and I've nearly beat the blues that have been dogging me. Whenever I feel bad I try to take action of some sort. It doesn't fix it, but I figure at least I tried. I'm thinking rather seriously about adding another animal to the household. I've spent too much time at the SPCA falling a little bit in love with a tiny orange kitten. Bad girl, the last thing I need is someone else to take care of, but oh I'm good at it. Too good probably.
Today was my eldest's first day at work with his father. He seemed to do surprisingly well. I'd forgotten how good he is at fixing things and how poor his father is at the same. He went around fixing all that was not working and got the new phone system set up. He's a strong one too, so any moving of supplies and fetching lunch was his deal. For a first day I'm proud of him. And he arrived back with a load of bait and headed to the lake for another stellar day of his biggest large mouth bass yet. Even netted a tiger trout. Very interesting fishing these days. And he's so very very happy.
I took the younger two for a waterside lunch which was not on the budget. But as much as I want an escape for myself this weekend, I know I won't spend the money on something for me alone. I've found some solo women's trips ahead and that maybe in the cards for the future, but I don't enjoy sleeping in a hotel alone. Well actually if you have a hotel room, why sleep? Much better things to do...I still may get in the car and drive since I see these weekends without work as precious and I'm counting them down since I have about 5 or them total and want to spend them well. But I live in a tourism hub, so I figured why not play the tourist and enjoy it? Ginger icecream at an umbrella table in town with my girl, dropping off my other son to ride the waves, having fun at the lake with my giant son and catching the smallest fish of the evening...But there is great beauty here and I'm a sucker for natural beauty.
I deleted Tinder. Not for me. Trying a new vanilla site in hopes that I'll get back in dating practice. I'm feeling rather rusty. But I did hear from a local man I met a party months back. I liked him becasue he reminded me of me. Utterly respectable on the outside and very open sexually on the inside. Plus the intelligent guys with blue collar sensibilities aren't quite thick on the ground these days. He's a suit and I usually am not attracted to them these days. But I'm an idiot. What's wrong with a guy whose hands don't have calluses and who uses his mind more than his body to do his work? I was just avoiding anyone vaguely resembling my ex.
But I miss the girl I was. The classy one. Who dressed for dinner and wasn't impressed or intimidated by frou frou food, but kind of liked food as art. And I miss whisper quiet vehicles over more masculine trucks. And art. A guy who can teach me about music and let me introduce him to a bit ot Art...there's so much I want to do. I realized spending more time in Asbury that I've never been to the Stone Pony, or really not to too many venues for live music and I really crave that which is entirely new for me. Now I crave more a singer/songwriter mellow night, but just being about to spend a weekend doing a variety of things...and with someone who can relate to me and teach me a little...well, wouldn't that be nice? I could use a little nice. And kisses. And yeah, yeah serious fucking. I might just have figured that out too, but too soon to say.
Be well.
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I really do try far too hard, think too much, and fight the flow of things far more than I should. Truly I think I make things harder than need be sometimes. I know what matters. It's not the tidiness of my home or garden. It's not what job I manage to land. And it's not really even If I get to fuck. It's the people. I likely need to be spanked hard and made to remember just that.
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I keep erasing my journal entries. Tired of typos but I can't make the font here big enough to properly read via iPad and I'm a mobile sort of chick. So apologies. I do know how to spell but I proofing and editing my thoughts is more than I want to do. I'll end up erasing the whole shebang.
It's not just the typos, but I find reading my words sometimes insufferable. My life isn't that bad. Yes there are moments of what can only be called extreme stress. And I pretty much live with an edge every day while this big D is percolating.
I need to escape. But I also have to watch my pennies for present. Being this careful isn't my nature anymore. I'd rather live than wait.
Sex helps. And yeah, I've got to get me more of it. There's a man I very much want to know what it is like to fuck. We met here. And we have the most lovely conversations. But there's something there that doesn't make sense. I don't think he's married. And he's a bit further away than the ideal. But we would've met by now. And we haven't. And that puzzles me. I'm beginning to think it's best to not be eager without the same degree of reciprocal eagerness. And really I don't know what it is but there's a connection and an attraction I will miss. It's that sense of possibliity, the pacing of talking without the fucking, and his brain that have me hooked. But I've yet to determine if he is good for me.
I know fucking Guru is good for me. And being with CW too can be short term. He just gets so very tired. Understandable. And I love hard workers. I get tired too. But somehow if I'm interested, I find the energy. It's all about motivation.
So I have a sort of Affair to Remember fantasy. That perfect moment in time escape. Though I've no desire to have an affair per se. But to have that attraction, the edge, the romantic, the passion, the need to fuck and the satiation. Oh darlings, I am all about satiation. Now if I can only get there. Masturbation is pretty much bullshit to me at present. I want REAL.
A greedy,
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Finally had time to relax and make it to the end of the last season of Downton Abbey. Such things...Brit, historical, as far from my existance as could be except for the proper teas now and again...it's an escape for me from the nitty gritty of my life. Though truth be told, I've come out okay over the past few days. Though they haven't been without stress. Funny that. I expect it and I walk towards the trouble rather than away since I know that's the most efficient course to (1) treat somone respectfully and be treated the same in return and (2) be done with it sooner and get it out of my head.
A godawful mess yesterday involving one son's friend, another son's friend, and the local police. Poor decisions made. And my boy and I the only one who knew both parties enough to try and mediate before it became a life changing event for one family. I don't get involved. I say that. But now I do. Because it was necessary. Same fot the man that collapsed one day at the store. Everyone stood around after calling 911 and asking if anyone knew CPR. Well I'm as close as they had to someone with some knowledge though an EMT I am not. So as much as I'd rather not risk being sued, you do what needs to be done. And so my role in life has been.
I was never one with grand goals. My own place, self supporting, to see a bit more of things than my hometown, and a cat to keep me company. And at about 25 I met those. Then I didn't have a clue what to do next because apparently we are expected to have bigger goals than that. I hadn't figured on the house or children or marriage. But I did it when my biological clock made it's presence known at about 33. I think I'm happier. Certainly the chidlren were the making of me. I'm so much more than I would ever have been for them, But if it weren't for them I'd be gone. I would have left the marriage cold without the machinations of attorneys and such. And I would have been living in Cali or the Keys but perhaps not as strong and definitely not as happy.
Though for someone who cries as much as I do, I wonder if I am happy. It's a surprisingly good life even with the bs. We all that afterall. And my problems are fixable unlike so many others. I think the one thing I just don't know how to do is trust or share or ask for what I need. Well that's three. I share here, but it's hard to share to my friend here as truly my life seems nuts to them. And parts of it are, esp the endlessness of my divorce and the craziness of having been married to a wildly successful man on the outside who is irresponsible in his personal orbit. I've lost friend who have gotten sick of hearing my endless nonsense. And so I don't mention much because half the time if I do talk about it I begin to cry. And better to leak away privately I think than burden those who can't possibly get it. I am better at asking for what I need, but it's seldom one gets it. And I guess I have difficulty with rejection. More so than most. Sometimes seems best or simpler to just not put oneself out there.
I try really really hard to not care. But oh I DO. I care about everyone in my orbit. I care about strangers. Animals. Everyone's children. Those who need help. Even those who have done me wrong. We'll sort of. Okay, a little. And I will give things to others that I am less capable of giving to myself. Huge effort. Understanding. Empathy. Time. Help. And god knows my own chidlren I'd do anything for. I care so fucking much about so much that I have to force myself to accept less and be happy with less. And learn that good enough is good enough. I am doing better at asking for what I need.
There are intrinsic rewards for doing the right thing. And for going where angels fear to tread. I'm going to keep trying but It's exhausting.
I am gradually becoming convinced though that my life may not be meant to be shared with a man. I love men. I really do. And I love sex with them. But it's women who get it and get me and comfort me. I suppose it comes from growing up in a family of women. I ask so used to absent fathers, husbands, lovers. So much so that it is what I expect and what I am most comfortable with as that was how I've learned such realtionship are. I haven't much of a clue how to manage a real one. And clearly I haven't been successful. But in other areas I've been madly so. I know it's best to be happy with what I've got.
I did something hard and good this weekend. A child in trouble. I took on the role of mediator without even knowing what I was getting into. It worked. And I'm relieved. The outcome was better than could be expected.
And it feels good. So much so that I don't crave sex as an escape at present. I don't crave escape at all. I want to do more in hopes that maybe something positive will come from it in my own life too. Action. I've always been more of do'er than a talk'er. Time to do more.
And thank y'all. I save email responses til my nights without the children, mostly. Because honestly, it's my reward to take the time to spend with you and respond thoughtfully and with time. Especially to the few lovely women who have been where I am and have offered support. You've no idea how knowing you made it to the other side helps me. But it does. I know this is what I must do but it is so fucking hard. But for all my mediation skills and desire to tackle things for real and head on, you can't do that without somone on the other end who is receptive and willing to participate in the process. So then you have to force resolution. I've been called a c*&#, the devil, someone who makes him wish he were dead and every one of those stays in my head. Because I've never been called even a beyotch before. And I still have a tender heart even if it's surrounded by a strong spirit. And it's deeply wounding to be called names even from someone I know is freaking out and hurting himself. But you know I met this man when I was 20. And he was polite and mannerly and the best most honorable man I'd ever met. And then a decade later I married him. And no, I don't love him anymore, nor do I particularly like him. But to be hated is tough to take.
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I have this belief that if you're a good person, good things will come to you. There's a fallacy there in that what may come is not always positive. Then I go to my other fallback, "everything happens for a reason." But you know, sometimes things just happen. Though I believe pain can be transformative and reduce focus to see what your personal essentials are. I don't know why I have this craving for more, more, more...if it is a function of currently feeling like I have less than I need or just greediness or if I got a glimpse of how being supported and connected could create something more than the sum of its parts.
How can I want when I had so much over the weekend. Yes, I was a sad sack for much of the weekend. But parts of ti were beautiful. Discussions where both participants lost track ot time. I think I had sex every one of the three days. I should still be glowing. Admittedly stress and lack of resolution yesterday has an impact. And not talking to someone who I am increasingly attracted to leaves me a bit edgy. Okay, not a bit. Disappointed. Disproportionately.
A very old friend I hear form every year or two popped up on my incoming calls last night. And I thought uh, oh and nearly didn't answer because I knew she would need something. She lives a narrow existance, caged by the sometimes hourly meds she must take and limits on her potential. She's bipolar and it's a difficult difficult disease process. Menopause did a job on her and they are still trying to get her meds cocktail right. But it's not 2 or 3. And there are voluntary and involuntary psyche admittances and waiting for a social worker to clear her before she can even traverse her own neighborhood or drive her car. And I feel caged! Not even close to what she has to deal with.
I answered of course because if she's calling the she needs someone. And I understand what simple human connection can do. And just the simple reminder that she is not alone. Y'all do that for me here sometimes when I feel shoulder deep in the mud of my present transition. And I refuse to let anyone hanging if there's even one damn thing I can do or say. The only way my own pain is meaningful is if I can use it to see another view or just say "hey I get it."
My friend finds me healing because I don't think she's crazy. Sure bipolar is a mental health issue. But it's about fucked up body chemistry. I still see her beautiful brain. And truly she is one the most brilliant minds I have ever met. It's that her chemistry can't be regulated. Or can for awhile but you know that's not static. And the changeability means with this disease sometimes she's just fucked. She's a character. But I did the right thing. I was there. And I had other things to do and chidlren clamoring, but I still took the time to pause my world and I was there. That's kind of all I want too. Becasue if you are important even to a single other soul, it makes everything better. It really does.
I'm lucky in the children as without them I might have stopped or run or just given up. But I can't. And they watch. So I have to be a role model for them and never say never and pull my shit together and apologize when my temper gets the best of me. And so I do.
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My home is full again and somehow that makes all right in my world. I love them. They love me and we show it with words and touch. Endlessly. It's such a wonderful thing. There was a problem with their father's gf bullying the weakest, my youngest son, as bullies are wont to do. How a 40 yr old woman can fuck with an 11 yr old's head is beyond understanding.
Well, they've been taught well, my vik ing children. They know when they don't have me, they have each other. And they haven't learned to be bystanders but rather defenders of the weak. They've fought a battle for me when the trash talk in the house headed my way. And when my self conscious daughter was ridiculed in her new glasses, my son's politely excused themselves and bookended her to her room with hugs and affirmations. Well this time, my fierce warrior girl took on the bully for her young brother. Mind you I've never heard her yell. She confessed to me that she yelled at the gf. And with a smile smile she whispered "and it felt good." I couldn't help it, I giggled. Then she did. Then the boys. Til we were all helpless and teary.
But now they're home and my son asked if I could please do a bike ride with him tomorrow. And I've had more love in the first 15 minutes than all weekend long. Thank heavens for my babies, because there's nothing better than those three amazing people. And I get to live with them. Smile,
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An emotional weekend. For awhile I lost hope. It all went south with my ex Friday and I was left a bit fraught. You know "fraught' doesn't even begin to cover it. I felt too much for what it was. Nearly irrational. In retrospect I had an anxiety attack. CW drove by during the kiddos exchange and said the look on my face he'd never seen before. Well that's why my Gran told me never to count your chickens before they are hatched. And I did. I know better. I know to manage expectation. But somehow I thought if I did the hard stuff it would make sense and things would get better. But now I have to keep going. And I'm struggling to find my positivity.
I really didn't know how I was going to make it emotionally throught this weekend. There was some fucking. Some extraordinary daylight fucking. Some of it very very dirty. The oxytocin influx helps. And then I talked. I had the most wonderful interaction with a voice that's become my fav to hear on the phone. DD walked me through some of it. And CW was remarkably kind and listened and crossed a few boundaries he shouldn't have. But this weekend that's okay.
Hell I tried alcohol. Even had CW do a wine run for me since I was blotto. But I couldn't even get to the bottom. I'm too old to get truly drunk. I just fall asleep. Saturday labile enough to call it another anxiety attack. I don't get it because I live with high stress. And I'm good and I'm fine and I have coping skills. But they were failing me this weekend. I caved and pulled out my ancient of Xanax and took one.
Part of the problem is that I'm not sleeping. So my cognition and coping levels are impaired. Saturday night I resorted to Ambien. Slept the night through for the first time in forever. Then got my sweet a@@ moving this morning through two yoga classes. That did it for me. Much better. Add an overdose of pure Guru and well, I'm boneless now. But the ex just did the drop off again. And my blood pressure spiked at his appearance. I'm furious. Really really furious. And I'm starting to think it's not going to matter what I do, I just might be screwed.
Tomorow is a new day and my hired bully will be in. I am going to need to get this point of view. I can't really do all this, any of this, without him. Time to see just how good he is and if he's right in his interpretation of the order. Please please let him be right and please please let this move quickly. This girl is ready to throw in the towel and the games not over. But OMG I'm tired and quite quite desperate to escape the nonsense.
Send me hugs kinksters.
Pen |
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Sometimes the hardest part of my day is when I slip into bed alone at night. Doubts make their way into my head. So many doubts. Did I do the right thing? Am I being too filter less? Should I be playing this to give someone else a win instead of playing hard ball? I look forward to my bed. But I am missing something. And I am worried about this latest skirmish even though it appears outwardly I am winning. There's a cost. Tomorrow I have to continue to be, well...kind of an asshole. And it makes me cry tonight just thinking about it. I wasn't made for these kinds of games. I was made to do what I do and bring excellence to the table and then to jsut retire quietly to my corner and be left alone. Only I don't want to be left alone anymore.
I was semi-mean to two men today. I don't like it even if they both needed to respect my boundaries. My daughter is ill and I'm worried. Many worries tonight. And I've already talked about ti earlier to DD and CW. But ugh, my head hurts. I need a hug more than I need sleep right now.
Pen |
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I think I fucked up my head a little, letting CW spend the night. I like the detrius. My bed needs desperately laundered, there's a silk pillow under the sewing table I use as a nightstand, and the comforter is only hanging on the bed by one corner. I removed last night's clothing from my big chair so I could sit and close my eyes for a minute. But I love seeing my finery from the night before, catching the scent of a little more cologne than I'd usually use, and the prettiest of my unmentionable draped over the arm of the chair. I wonder what it would be like to see me as a man. You know? What does he see? The hair is an unusual color, so they notice that. My lips are full and un wrinkled and I'm prone to drawing attention to them. My body is okay at 51 but I remember it's bean pole slenderness that I hated in my 20s. Now it's def womanly, but I like the curve of my hips into my rib cage. I'm not fond of my tummy but none of us are. But my ass...well I'm told it's a truly spectacular ass.
I like my face and my hands and my ankles the best I suppose. It's still a pretty face. And youngish, though everyone says that. Good Polish cheekbones and snub nose. My eyes have come into their own in recent years. I always thought them too small and they're a wider almondy shape that is a bit unusual around here. I'm not Asian but when I was a child I was mistaken for one now and then. But my eyes are better framed now that I've moved to more modern brows. And they're grey or green or sometimes a pale brown depending on the light but there's a translucency to them that wasn't there before. I think my mind and heart are opening...Windows to the soul indeed. Or it might just be all those tears and extra hydration.
My hands are not pretty. They used to be long and elegant. But now they're just well groomed but pretty unexceptional. They aren't soft and they don't have any particular calluses. And.I rarely wear polish. But my nails are healthy and the back of my palms are freckled a bit and my veins are more prominent these days. I know it's the start of them turning into my Gran's hands. Though mine are more manicured and hers never were. My son likes to trace the more prominent veins with a finger as I did the same to my Gran. And even though I should that part of my hands ugly I can't. It's the full circle. We'll talk about blood flow and venous return versus arterial blood and oxygenation and how thing work. And he tuck himself in closer and keep tracing those ridges and take me back to when Gran was here and I was him. Mine are working hands. Strong. Healing. And I love them even though they'll show my age way before my face does.
CW asked me out again before he left. But it'll be awhile. I have the weekend; he works and I saw the disappointment on his face at that. He'll be far too tired. As was the course of our relationship. Even when he was my BF, I didn't have the things other relationships take for granted. The weekend thing. It was a night there and there and whole lot of lunches. And sex. Lots and lots of sex. Now I need lots and lots of sex but I think this is going to hold me for awhile. My mind just might need more than my body these days. It always did. But the physical was always more achievable.
Gym, yoga, kayak...I think I'm going to beat my own body into submission. Just enough so I fall asleep dreamlessly. And I may have settle for books for my mind over the guy I want. My life is incredibly incredibly stressful. I long for things that aren't good for me. Cuck rescuing me via Harley and taking me to a waterfall to clear my head. CW throwing all he can at me to let my bad girl out. The Dom who was ultimately a liar but took me to rope zen. And silly failures to launch that keep me wondering if I miss that guy.
Pen |
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OMG, just read the phase in one of Jo Jo Moye's older books, she writes of “technically proficient but ultimately soulless” sex. That is precisely what I have and do. And it's good. And necessary. But yeah, it doesn't come close to what some might call "the real thing." And IDK if I even mean love sex. But more sex that is a deepening of a bond over scratching an itch. "Bond" is a strong word, but that is what this "connection" I talk all about is. And feeling that? Compelling indeed.
Pen |
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Well yeah, so I finally had a night of physical excess. Something I've practically begged and pleaded for in my own head...and it was nice. Nice. There's that word again. That perfectly acceptable moderate catch all of positivity. Dinner and drinks were fabulous. The company charming, though I'd forgotten about his mouth. I'm offended by bigotry and taking a man who isn't the most evolved to town with vibrant African American and gay population (and I think he covered Jews as well)...all in the same evening...I don't want to listen to him. And I suppose that's when I started to disconnect. I still smiled and kept it going. He was definitely into me. Mind you all, this is an old beau rekindled. And we did what you do here...walked the boards, beautiful night, romantic as all get out. A really really nice evening. Mostly.
The sex. Stellar in that there was plenty of it. It was raw and hard and sustained. He worked out the kinks in my back with strong hands and kept me cumming long after he had finished. He's good. And I came plenty. But my mind...My damn fucking mind...can't engage. And I tried. Conversation. Drawing him out. He knows my history; there was no shortage of things to talk about. He knows the players and the larger group dynamics. And he looks out for me in his own way.
But I am offended by him. Even though his offense is not directed towards me, bigotry is something I find deeply troubling. Y'all know it's CW. I always thought at base we shared the same values. Loyalty, trust, monogamy (yes folks, I am monogamous when it's agreed), transparency. Now right now I'm the favored one with him. But IDK that I can listen to him talk. And now I feel like an ungrateful beyotch.
There's this guy I've been talking to for several months. We started talking through his response to my journal and have moved to conversing via phone. The mental connection is....well, it fills me with longing. I don't do so well at wanting someone I can't have. And it is unlikely we will meet for real. IDk if that is getting in the way. Or if it just serves to remind me what it's like when the voice and content is that compelling. I want this man, idiot me. I want to know what it's like to feel his skin on mine and I really really really want the kissing. And to make him laugh and see if he feels as compelled to fuck me as I do him. Friends, lovers, and a mutual escape. If only...
CW is compelling sexually but dare I say it? I was bored. It's not something I feel often. And it's a terrible thing to say but I need to get this out of my head and onto paper or rather here.
So it's tough enough to meet someone. Now I have to look for a guy who's smart and sex-driven and open and can still be somewhat socially adept. And the guy has to find me attractive. Sigh. It's not sounding likely. I have to get past this. CW is here. Other things are stalled. But there's nothing exclusive. No agreement of monogamy. And he's busy. Damn I want to be saved from this choice which I'm likely to make because I'm so damn horny and lonely.
Pen |
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I'm a creature of excess. I restrain myself near constantly. That's why wallowing in sex is such a release in more ways than one to me. I feel too much. I think too much. I cum too much. And darlings, I want far too much. Of course what I what isn't so different from what we all want. To know I'm different, unique, special...if only in a few eyes. To feel something deeply satisfying. To be adored long enough that my imperfections seem charming. Mutual passion.
But y'all know this isn't a world we get what we want all that often. Bits and pieces of it. And sometimes we get very very close. But the ideal isn't achievable so we learn to be grateful for ideal moments over that mythological ideal life or partner.
Strawberry Moon last night. (Thank you G). I'd forgotten though I'd meant to go to the beach and all and make it an event. Life gets away from me as I just flow where I need to go. I think of the fresh water streams I grew up with in PA, all smooth river rocks and fast flowing water. Now and then I'm that rock, though I don't know how smooth I am. But more often I'm the flow because throwing myself against immovable objects just leaves me hurt. Far better to let it go and keep going until maybe I find myself in an eddy downstream where I can slow down and rest a bit until I get whipped into the fray again.
Fortunately at the reminder of the moon, my beautful boys were still awake. It's not all that unusual for me to find them at hours they should be sleeping or doing something responsible and pull them out for a moment that shouldn't be missed. So the younger and I barefooted it out side to gaze at the moon. But the trees are full this year and a long clear view was better had upstairs. So I watched his eyes widen as I opened window and screen and climbed out onto the bkfst room roof. He said, "you're really gonna.." "Yep." And followed me. Backs against the siding, knees bent, bare feet on the sandpaper of the shingles and my arm around his shoulder. I've more than a few soft spots on my torso so he pillowed into me and we watched and talked until his brother came a'looking and stuck his giraffey form out the window to grin at us. Watching him origami himself to get out the window made us all chuckle.
But that moment of my boys on either side of me, arms around each other to make us one instead of three, tucked on the roof on the perfect night with that gorgeous perfect moon...well now THAT was one of those rare ideals. We wanted to sleep out there it was that perfect. But I suggested it might be tough to explain the night when we wake up on the ground in the morning...
And a good good time was had by all...Thank heavens for these moments. It's all these that add up to a life well spent. I needed a reminder of what's good. Be well folks.
Pen
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It's the girls on here who keep me writing and baring my soul. I signed in to erase all of today's endless efforts to quiet a mind that won't shut up. But kind J told me it's like I'm saying how she feels. And she reached out and gave me that cyber hug I needed so damn much tonight. And that's why I really pour my heart out here. Because now and then a woman tells me, omg, that's how I feel and no one gets it and I'm so damn tired of being alone. Yeah, me too girls. But we're not. And we are not fucking crazy because we feel what we feel. Or because we cry or care enough to say so. So thank you J and thank y'all for letting me know even though I'm tucking into my little yellow bed alone, I'm not.
A grateful Pen. |
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I sound so analytical and I try so hard to be. But I've always been pure emotion. It didn't serve me well so I've tried to learn to be more outwardly controlled and all that. But oh, I cry. There's so much inside of me that it wells up and overflows . All the fucking time. Well actually I try to confine it to my car because the chidlren will worry about me. I keep thinking if I approach things in a way that makes sense I can lessen emotional impacts. Becasue really between the ex and cuck, I'm left with a battered heart and brain. It all still works and I am a far better person in many ways but fuck I'm reactive (if only on the inside). That's why I need sex to exhaust me and to forget the more obvious of my stressors. The ex is fucking with me again; this time about Father's Day. And I need to vent. Actually I need a hug, virtual or otherwise.
And today was beautiful. I made it that. My youngest and I got everyone moving. Car and kayaks loaded. And we took turns exploring. I need to spend more time with 11 yr olds. My boy knew where to find the turtles sunning, the mummichog nurseries...all the things people like me miss in our efforts to get from one place to the other without looking around us and taking the time. Eventually we just pontooned our kayaks togehter with our oars and put our feet up, floating on the pond, and talking wherever our minds led us. That's a GOOD day.
And I cooked a mighty fine meal. So now I'm tired, a little rum dumb and very lonely. Doesn't make sense to feel what I feel when I have a houseful. But I feel it. I miss connection. Conversation. But I know. Keep looking. Make do. No one can be all to one. And I know, you're supposed to be happy with the one you're with. But who am I with? It's just me. I'm pretty tired of it being just me. I want a hug. I want a "you did good, girl." I want a kiss and a tuck in. But I got what I got. Now to just stop being ungrateful and appreciate it.
Pen |
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There's a concept called the law of diminishing returns. Essentially it's the point where doing more of the same stops working the way we expect. And it's a theory of economics but I think it applies to relationships and particularly online ones. I can begin feeling connected online to someone if that kismet blessedly occurs. And it doesn't happen much. But in my head "online" and "relationship" are just starting places and too many times I've a folder of lovely possibilities called "failure to launch."
I think our lives can intersect for a time, and maybe we can just help someone else smile for a bit with an online connection. Heaven knows I've been so very very grateful for some of y'all. But when one or both parties try to deepen it then more is required. You need a little faith, a suspension of disbelief that this person is at least 70% of who he or she says he/she is. You need some transparency to be willing to talk intimately. There's a time commitment. And that really is the currency I try to spend carefully. Because time is so very very precious to me.
So both people put in the effort, faith, and time...there's a progression. A return on the investment both make. But at some point that law of diminishing returns presents and you recognize a decline taking place. Maybe you feel less good. Maybe there's something more needed physically, emotionally or relational wise. It may mean a simple change is needed or goals might need to be redefined. And it is fraught. Not an easy step.
I don't shy from what needs to be done. So I'll do what is impossibly hard for me to try to keep something that has value to me going. And I'll take a personal hit or two twice. That's all I've got in me to give. Twice. Hell, I do the same thing sexually. I'll try anything twice. But then as much as I fucking hate Econ, I'll do a cost benefit analysis. Essentially you're looking at what you're giving time, emotion, whatever and what you get back. Now far be it for me to suggest relationships are about keeping count of what percentage each person gives. But if you feel you are investing much at some cost to you (it's always time with me), and the return effort feels off. Then trust your instincts it is off. And it's time to do that hard part and cut your losses.
Fuck. It is impossibly hard for me to connect mentally AND physically. Emotionally I've just about given up on except for a few weak girly moments. But I know best to stop wasting time and open that space in your life for what's meant to be there. Or who is meant to be there. So I'll be a grown up again even though I want to weep like a little girl who lost her fav bear she wanted to sleep with most nights.
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I know, I know...appreciate what you have, be happy with it. That's the key to it all. But damn we humans...we want and want and want. Therein lies our motivation for progress and achievement, but also our dissatisfaction of status quo.
I've long been in the habit of planting something of permanence in April. My bday and Arbor Day are close so it's the two birds principle. Plus there's something fulfilling about watching beauty grow into itself. And what fails. Of two rare dogwoods, one survived and its graceful and will live long there. In the dooryard garden the trees I'd paired, a Japanese snowbell and one with decorative bark whose name escapes me, only the snowbell thrived. Funny I'd stopped planting pairs the same time my marriage feel apart. But then you need more than one person to plant a tree. But I managed to dig in the row of lilacs by the mailbox. But it's hard for a woman who grew up without strong roots to stop planting her own. So a decade ago I found an extraordinary redbud tree. A fleeting pleasure in the spring with those delicious flowers, to brigh Purple Heart shaped leaves that fade to a green veined burgundy now under summer heat. I'd planted it to add privacy and shade to the East outdoor sitting area of the house. And this year what I'd imagined finally came to fruition. Dappled shade so I can spend the morning still nightgowned and bra and panti-less having my tea outside.
The garden around it is a mess that I am loathe to tackle but think I must at least attempt. But if I focus my vision up instead of down, it's inspiring enough. There's a breeze from the northeast that adds that edge of salt that I now recognized as the scent of home. So much so that when I return from a roadtrip, I open the windows the last 20miles of so so I can feel the air change.
I had sex yesterday. Pretty good, pretty dirty sex. With a few of the out there components I like that only a few intimates really know. My neck doesn't feel like there are boulders resting on them. My hips are open. Labia swollen enough that I'm hyperaware and can feel pressue when I sit down. I want to spend the weekend fucking but that's not going to happen. Or flirting...that maybe I can manage. There's something that tickles both my inner bad girl and my sense of the ridiculous in the image of me, wet from the shower lifted onto the edge of sink console. My ankles on his shoulders,,,trying to keep my slippery wet ass from sliding so far I'd impale myself on the faucet or take us both down to the floor. Sometimes you just have to hold on tight and take what life gives you. If it's a delicious cock, I'm all for it. But now I'm greedy and I want more....
Pen |
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Is this karma? I'm almost afraid to believe it. People are being so friendly, inclusive and just damn nice to me. It's cool but I'm used to fucked up days. And then if it's not fucked up, I'm like wow, that was a great day. "Great" was the absence of SNAFU. But repeatedly I feel as if I'm being taken under wing and oh, it's so so nice. I could live very happily in nice ville.
I am beginning to see that the difficult course of action I had to take was the right one. I had to do it. And it was of my ex's own making. So much could have been settled without the pros. But now, I have an Order and it has more teeth than I'd imagined. That light is getting brighter still...I'm hopeful.
Lovely night in Mayberry with lovely people and my fav ones in the world, my children. Yay, summer is really truly here.
Pen |
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Some days are endless. This is one of them. As busy as I am, I find on my breaks that I feel pretty alone. Yeah, I know I could talk to a few people about my situation, but quite frankly it's been going on so long that a few have said in the past...omg, that's not done yet? No it sure isn't. And much like I have to case manage my sons' plans, I have to do the same with non compliance on this. The problem is keeping business and not personal when I feel disrespected in the extreme. And that's my touch point that will set me aflame. That won't help anyone so I need to tame it down. Truly I would get every last damn frustration out in fucking and I haven't in too long. I'm such a brat. Part of the pleasure I get is knowing my ex never had it as good as I do and he certainly never brought me even close. I don't do it motivated by revenge because the connection there is just the blood one we have in our children. Love left a long time ago. But still there's an adolescent corner of my psyche that enjoys the fact that the man searched my bedroom a few years ago and found my toys. He asked me to let him make me cum so many times over the years. When I suggest he try another, like his young gf...he offers "but you're different! You're so wild now! You were nice before and very very clean and organized. Just not much fun." He's a very attractive man and well endowed...you'd think...but I tell him "Thanks, I'd do you if I didn't know you, but I'm sure there are plenty of pretty young things out there for you to choose from. Just a hint...next time pick one who likes children..."
Yeah, it's a vent kind of day. I'm frustrated. I have a court order that it HURT to get. LIke soul deep. The fact that I have to do this bs makes my heart hurt. I am fucking nice as much as I hate that word. And I live by the principle do no harm. No one else feels sorry for the man. But I do. It's a lot to process and he doesn't have the coping skills or the resilience to handle this well. He's ostriching. And now I have to let my hired bully make his hired bully pull his head out of the sand and do what he must.
I did realize that although the past months have been rough, there has been a change. I no longer have to be a beggar of sorts, humiliating as it was. He did want to humiliate me and did a fine job of it. But you know, that's okay because I'm a grown up and I can handle bullshit. The problem occurs when the children get treated lesser. And that is very NOT okay. And that's why I had to essentially go to war. I've still misgivings. But we will see if this is going to work or not. Change hurts.
I've sounded so dreary, past few posts. I'm not though. It's just that part of me, those thoughts, are what I need to express and get out of my head. So you poor readers who have been so kind to me all along get nothing so fun today. Smile. Bear with me. I'm hoping and wishing that something, even a few moments of wonder are ahead. The word "wonder" makes me think of that childlike amazement we feel when something that makes us smile happens. Magic will do that for me too. And listening to my children when something comes out of their mouths or they make a good choice and I realize the lessons I've tried so hard to teach have taken. An good hard O will do the same thing. And darlings I need me some wonder.
Hugs,
Pen |
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Stressed. Tired. Too tired that I can't sleep. I really really do need to fuck. And maybe, just maybe I need a little more. But really, I have no problem settling for FWB. Connection needn't be a cage. And I've long ago learned to be happy with what I have even if it's not precisely what I want. Years of practice there. But fortunate for me, there aren't any offers for either pending. Possibilities, yes. But I know how fast such things can just go poof! Everything for a reason.
Pen |
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A roadtrip. I'd forgotten just how much I love hitting the road. Sitting lakeside now watching the ducks file back in from wherever they go to avoid the tourists during the day. Muscovies. Ugly things those ducks, but elegant in the water. The purple martins are out in force diving for any mosquitos but it's not remotely buggy in the breeze I've found. They are living just under the dock and I watch them bring back food for their noisy young with pleasure. They're not so different from what I do most days. But this weekend is time off for me. I did drive nearly to the southern tip of the state to attend an event of my daughter's. Making nice with the man I'm in the middle of a contentious divorce with was not such a challenge. He's a bit of a pariah. I didn't know. I didn't know if it was him or I that people were standoffish about. It's been a strange and long relationship and puzzling to most. So perhaps people are just afraid of getting caught up in drama. But of course there is never any public drama. I think it's likely people are just puzzled. Oh reward! Mama Mallard with 5 newborn paddlers in tight formation behind her! I may not want any babies myself but oh, new life is a beautiful thing... So the ex. People have been very warm to me this spring. More so than ever before as I've held myself a part for years and years. Just holding myself together for so long took all the energy I had. And now for some reason I hold my head taller. I smile more. I yell like a teamster for everyone's child at games. And I meet people wherever I go. And I really really like it. I felt sorry for my ex. He looked so awkward. And the chidlren don't really listen to him. That was a surprise but then I never see him in charge. I reached out. Included him in the conversation. Drew him out about a clam preparation he did for the children that they loved. Reminded the chidlren how lucky they are to have a dad who can cook so well. So I smoothed the edges. It's not personal anymore what's happening. It's how you deconstruct a marriage. And yeah it sucks. But this is all business. And quite frankly I'm sure the man took a huge hit from his gf in not permitting her to join the festivities this weekend. We'd agreed to keep s.o.'s from chidlren's events we attend together. Though really that is not going to work long term. But they don't have all that much more time to be children either. But he respected my daughter's wishes and took the personal hit. He deserves credit for that. It's putting them first. And he doesn't always but effort should be acknowledged. A turtle, red eared slider is peeking up at me from the lake. Love em. And plenty of toddlers a' toddling. Like looking at them too. They waddle. And view everything with wonder. I love a curious soul. I need a man, who is decidedly not a toddler, with that same sense of curiousity. The light is going and the village around the lake is closing up but this is one of my fav places to be. Darling Dom was kind enough to drive down and meet me at that end of the road fish shack I love so much. Poor man, he' s mannerly and I wanted to sit outside overlooking the wetlands but the breeze died and it was just plain hot. The usual things tourist season...same request for water 5x. Slow. But I don't mind slow. But the food, always perfection wasn't quite there tonight. But then maybe it's time for me to find a new place to crave. It's certainly time for me to find a new man to crave...I've a 31 yr old with the same sex philosophy as I, but he's like an eager impatient pup. We'll see. But heaven's I'm old to be doing a a guy who was born when I was just old enough to drink. But he has a teenager so there might be a few commonalities. In anycase, I'm enjoying saying no to him at present. OMG it's beautiful. I was meant to take to the road. Even though I always wanted stability. And never had it growning up. I love heading south. And I love being gone just long enough that coming home is a pleasure. My bed will be waiting for me and those lonely cats. It's time they got some attention as they've just gotten pats on the head for days as I leave and arrive home. It's the children they long for, but I'll do in a pinch. Today couldn't have happened on a date with someone other than myself. A little of family, a bit of duty, the social mish mash, my BFF pulling up in his far too elegant sports car at a rustic place at the end of the road, then quiet time at one of my favorite places waterside. Yes, sure, now would be the perfect time for that guy who only exists in my head right now, to walk up behind me, put his hands on my shoulder, kiss me on the top of my head, and ask me if I'm ready to take a walk along the water with him right now. So okay, I don't have him. But I have room for him now. I've made space in my life for that guy. And nature abhors a vacuum so that newly awakened hopeful me thinks it's gonna happen. Of course it'll happen at the wrong time...in say November or so...But even then when my head will be ready to blow from commitments, I'm going to try to hold a place for him. There will always be room in my life for good people. And I'm figuring out some really hard stuff without remotely losing my mind. I'll call that progress. And today a gift. Time to go home, even it is to sleep alone. Thanks y'all for your support. Pen |
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It's been a long time since it's happened that I feel compelled to do a double take when I've seen a man who appeals and oh, I wish it would happen again. Even better if he notices and grins. Or better, if he saunters over to me though my heart would drop while my blood floods to areas other than my brain..
I think most often that double take is because there's a sense of deja vu to seeing a particular guy. Perhaps a spark or a visceral response and I look up again because I wonder what just happened. A grin could do it. A glance that I inadvertently intercept. The way a man moves. And though I'm not in the habit of looking at men's bottoms, a nice a@@ or a particularly well groomed hair cut, esp if he has silvering at his temples might make me take a double peek.
Pen |
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I may have been TRYING to lose myself in a man or men, plural, but I haven't been all that successful at the task. Guru, yes, yum...I'm craving something more tender these days but that still pushes at the edge of my boundaries. CW. Sigh. I'd forgotten why we were no longer together. He still floats my boat as I find him attractive. But damn he's moody. And often cancels dates from sheer tiredness. I can't really complain as he works damn hard and does so with an underlying medical condition. I get it. I do. But it's so disappointing to look forward and plan a day with a lovely night ahead and find he invariably cancels. Darling Dom reminded me about all the times he cancelled on me in the past, but really I'd forgotten.
I need to meet someone new and fun and totally into me. And I need to be just as into him. But inevitably I come up for air and a reality check. It's hard for me to suspend disbelief enough to fall hard or to sustain romance. I am an action over words girl. Take today. I'd asked my son to just start on the yards, the mowing, today so it wasn't overwhelming for me on the weekend. The boy arrives home from school with and "I love you and hug" and he's a teenager. He's a good sort and the best part of my day starts when he arrives home. Well I was exhausted and knew I had a late eve. I've been staying up far too late chatting with an online potential. But I'm getting worn out. I took a 20 min nap and did what chores I could finish. It seemed my boy was out there mowing for a long time. He came in worn out to tell me he did it all, did I want to see? Just to make my weekend easier on me. That's love at work. Kindness. He is the best. And that's the way I roll. Action is everything. Talk is cheap.
Pen |
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I know I'm losing myself, or attempting to, in men. It's about the best thng to make me feel better. And it sounds shallow. But I don't think I approach it quite the way it sounds, like a man is more an object than an individual. I care. I don't want to hurt anyone. But I also won't put time into a relationship that it not satisfying to me. I feel very little pleasure in wanting. Some love and celebrate the slow tortuure of desire over satiation. But I've been with enough men who are wordsmiths I admire, but when it came down to it, the substance was not there. Some men prefer wanting to having. I'm about the real. And here I am on the Internet talking to heaven knows who....probably all frogs. And I'm done kissing amphibians. I'm a grown up and I've no time to waste. Especially me with changes galore ahead and commitments that may only increase.
I am all too conscious of time. Mostly because every spare moment it precious and I want to spend it with someone who realizes what a gift it is to give to each other. But most people don't get it. My ex is perpetually late and it pisses me off to no end because it's passive aggressive bs. And completely disrespectable to me. My time is short; I'm always running out of it and there's never enough. Then these rare times occur when suddenly there's a magic weekend. And then inevitably, all those charmers who were interested, aren't interested enough to get together. To me time is the greatest gift I have to give. And someone who doesn't respect that (and few do) bug the hell out of me.
It happened tonight. CW was to escort me and bagged it due to exhaustion. Now I get it. I'm beat too. But I still showed up because I said I would. I didn't want to; it was tough. But I did it. Because it was important to show my respect and that I cared enough to make it happen. This is still probably a good thing as CW was getting back to relationship mode way before me. I don't think he and I, hell, I know he and I can't sustain a relationship for long. And now I remember the excuses of too tired and such. Guess what? I'm mostly too tired. But I suck it up and keep going. And I show up.
Guru and I had a tiff about time. I just won't wait. If you make an arrangement you show up on time. Or I'm going off to do something else. And so I did. He came back later thank heavens. But I'm really at the point now where if I want sex badly enough I know I can find I. Connection, not so easy. But here's the thing. I need a rock. Someone who has my back and someone who knows I have his. And this guy? He knows just how lucky we are to have found each other. I know how to fill the role myself. And it's a familiar role to me. I'm the one who is there.
But I'd lost sight of who I was before this desire for a partner became almost a need. I was the woman in those divine restaurants, dressed well but not flashy with her book and her stellar tips. I could go anywhere with comfort but I lost that somewhere along the way. I lost the pleasure of my own company. And I need to get it back. Becasue honestly, I am my own rock. Yeah maybe one day they're will that guy. But it ain't happening with any enthusiasm or fast. So I'd best learn.
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I realized today I haven't shared my bed or my space with anyone since CW. I've had plenty of sex but not here. Here I open myself up more. I'm safe, so anything goes.
I caved. Visited CW at work yesterday to test the waters after his texts the night before. He offered again. So today I took him up on that offer. He's an attractive man. I forget that about him. A thicker, shorter Clooney type with very shorthair, silvered in the hottest way at the temples. It's thick, like an animal's pelt and soft and I do enjoy stroking his hair. Skin far darker than mine esp after a month in Cuba. And dark eyes a la Clooney.
But I am all too aware that I am running out of time. School will be out shortly and the time my home is empty will be rare for several months. So I said fuck it, I'm going to fuck. Because even with it all, stellar sex was never a problem with us. And the man's powers of recovery are legendary. To cum and stay hard and continue to fuck...and not have that sleep-induced coma post...It's nice indeed. That's when we'd talk and he'd make me cum in the kinkiest ways with his hands.
So we talked about who we've fucked since our breakup. I laughed at some of his choices, typical for him even though he knows better. Not tall himself, he has a fondness for little Asian and Hispanic women. Of course few of them are up to how hard he fucks. It's not making love, and the only finesse is that he knows precisely which spots to hit. And hits them and hard. It's deep hard fucking, dirty and rough and pure rutting. I happen to like that. And I like to be pushed. Fucking CW pushes a body far.
I was actually a bit shy and nervous about having him over again. We'd fucked hundreds of times. But starting this up again was a tiny bit fraught. But he was charming. He's gotten better at kissing when he pays attn. And the kissing was stellar. I really needed kissing today. There was a lot of kissing. And connection. I needed connection. We know each other and care about each other. Now I know this was not the best choice. But at least with CW I know I'm getting laid and laid well and he's going to make sure I cum over and over again.
The kissing was lovely. Kissing in the shower post was lovely. Telling him real sex stories(which I've never done, convinced he couldn't handle just how sexual I am) was lovely. He told me how he had no doubt the parties worked for me as if someone was to watch how I get when I'm sexual, it's a turn on. I have a very capable public persona. I have a little tiny voice. But I've learned to project and deepen it. But in the midst of o's, that girly voice says the damnest things. I beg for cock. I tell him how good he is. How amazingly hard he is. How much I want his cum...How I want to walk around all day while his cum seeps out onto my thighs all day. How I want all his cum...Mmmm....
He told me how girly I seem now. All my receptiveness to kissing and tenderness. My shyness at first. The blush. And how my little girl voice that I rarely let come out turns him on...Because it says the damnest things. Perhaps it's because someone else has made me kittenish and I enjoyed it. It's likely we'll never meet but I've enjoyed him. But I want real. I want to touch and be touched. And I want everything that goes with it...the dinner dates and the how was your day talks, and the sex and the meeting for breakfast. The little jaunts and the conversation...and the constant low hum of arousal that I know can be sated.
Pen
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Well, I visited CW at his work this afternoon. Probably a mistake. I was half tempted. Maybe more than half. Finally someone to talk to who knows the history and the players. Oh I've talked DD's ear off too, but it's different with someone who is not quite to eqanimous. CW gets mad for me. And protective. I so enjoyed and needed a protective man...it was one element always missing in my relationships past. Yeah, yeah, I know I'm capable but if anyone needed a protector, it's me. I told him about the money. And he said you have how much to live on? Yeah I still haven't figured that out. I am living lean though and getting learn as well so all the skinnier pants are loosening. I suppose that's a bright side though weight has never been a personal bugaboo.
I know I know better. There's a reason you aren't together. But man....he was pretty damn great in bed. Even if the conversation never got very deep, I appreciated him. He was a do'er over a talk'er. And actions say so much more to me about whether I'm a priority or not.
I am completely wiped out. Deadline done. Major work. Hard. And I have to get back to the financial tonight. I did set up some backups at my bank to help going forward. I've been nice and quiet as a mouse, not wanting to rock the boat even with the court order but now I think it's time to turn on the heat.
My notions of fair don't seem to remotely equal to my experience. And I'm just about done with dating. And sex. Being in a state of want use ain't my thing. Satiation is my thing. And it doesn't take all that much to get me there at present. Oh boy, I keep drifting off as I type....Risi e bisi tonight...essentially risotto with peas. But I used up my fancy olive oil and the basic one too and feeling like I must suffer with lesser oil...(yeah, what a food snob, just spank me now!). But yeah, $27 a bottle for olive oil seemed a necessary luxury in the past. As did freeze dried shallots. And the teas..well I'm not restocking. The oil bugs me. I used to drag 5 gallons of olive oil home from Provence every other year; it was the only thing I'd buy. I still remember the mill...the air...you breathed in the scent and unctuousness of the olives. So yeah, I'm spoiled and it's probably damn time I lived like a normal person instead of a food brat with money to burn.
People matter but we need resources to live. It's funny I was so relaxed when the two projects this AM were in, looking forward to finally some time to relax. But then when my mind had space, it filled with my lack of solutions. And I had to lift my sunglasses today to wipe of puddles of tears. It's a bit early for hormones. I think sleep deprivation and loneliness are taking a toll. I am very much alone here and I want so much to lean.
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Uh oh, CW...do I or don't I? Local. I know the sex is stellar. He loves me. But oh, two more contrary personalities are hard to find. But yes, I would have to listen to him talk. And share my bed. One day there will ba a guy I want to share my bed with. But oh, I miss fucking. So tempted. But it's just crazy hard to meet local and real; one starts to appreciate it. But endless ex's are my specialty it seems. I need to do something soon.
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I was sad before. I've always been someone who has seen possibilites over limits. Sometimes that makes me too much of a Pollyanna. I do understand realism but I'd much rather believe the best will happen. Or at least better...
So okay, the boy I liked liked somebody else better. But I really thought how cool would it be to be a man's muse? Pretty silly while at the same time how can a woman resist? Talking philosophy beats out sex sometimes. And yeah, I can't believe I said that.
So I got my sweet a@@ out of this house, big guns and all. Picked up Darling Dom and headed to the range. We had good evening. And I got to talk my talk. Because with him I can say anything. And he knows me and was with me through all my history. Kinky himself, I know his too. And that is a gift to have a friend to give you a hug and tell it like it is, shoot,, grab a bite, text his gf, and keep on going. I'm grateful.
When I told him how it panned out he said to me "honest and rare." And he was right about the guy. Of course it means he was just as special as I thought he was on one hand. But it's good to see men who can resist the temptation of passivity. I have to respect that. It's ripping the bandaid off and it's just what I need.
Maybe this hopefulness of mine is a bit TOO optimistic. I remember now why I shifted toward doubt and realism. But I'd still rather keep it positive. IDK, am I speaking in riddles tonight? My mind needs to quiet. And my heart the same. Still I'm back on my way to feeling badass again because damn it I'm pretty damn good at shooting. Didn't realize it til I looked at the other targets.
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I appreciate honesty. More than most because I know how hard it is to be real, knowing that sometimes you hurt someone doing it. But better to come clean early than draw someone along with half truths because you're chicken sh&%. I call it "being a grownup." And oh, it takes a toll no matter which side of the equation you are on. I was disappointed today. But in a respectful manner and that's rare. So I have to appreciate that. But damn, my eyes prick and my heart hurts. It brings the meaning of "flesh wound" clear. By next week this time, I'll be okay.
So yeah, I crave a soul connection. It's pretty amorphorous, that. I always say I'd be quite happy with a FWB. And I would. Because sex makes me smile. Evidence says that composition of facial muscles releases serotonin. So happy doesn't necessarily have to proceed the smile. Sometimes the smile can bring on happy. Hell, sex is a release of oxytocin and, add a little pain, endorphins. It's no wonder I feel fabulou post.
My thought processes have this odd framework. If something good happens, I must have earned it. Bad, and I'm being punished for something ill I did. But if I respond with grace to suffering or just simple bad sh%& coming down the pike, then I think I have earned something good to happen. I don't know where this bs comes from. There must be some system of ethics I learned growing up to reinforce that. When I think about it, I know it's a lot of hooey. But something doesn't work and the first one I blame is myself. And I know better.
Fuck, I'll get over it. But I may have to stop this online dating stuff. What catches my eye is a smile. One that reaches the eyes. And yep, I'm a visual creature like most men. But Looks don't get me the way a smile, a well turned word, and a postive spirit do. That's the thing though. There are a whole lot of people out there who are negative. And they just stay in that miasma of grump. I still believe anyone can effect change in their lives. Not that it doesn't hurt like hell. I'll tell you; it hurts like hell to change everything I have to but still be my chidren's Rock. But that isn't even a choic to me. They will always know they are amazing; they are loved; someone always has their back. I have that too, but only with them. To my chidlren I am amazing. I am loved. And they support my efforts in ways that are wiser than their years. Of course holding out the college spring break in Hawaii if I finish this degree program helps....
Is it greedy when I have so much, to want that guy? Honestly, it seems rather adolescent of me to still want some guy. I didn't for a long time. And then I healed and and that last iota of hope I thought was extinguished sparked. And now...well....being hopeful means you get disappointed a bunch. Because you put yourself out there and believe it's going to work. And half, hell 80% of the time, it doesn't. I don't know if I have quite that much chutzpah to keep the faith. But then quitting isn't me either.
Silly all over stupid dating. So on the dating site. I added a full length pic so everyone can see exactly where my bumps and lumps and wobbly bits fall. Actually it's not so bad. I've lost 17 lbs on the new budget or lack thereof because I'm really not hungry. But I still have to feel my darlings. It's likely my medicinal wine is keeping me steady...
Well I'm helping a passel of moms tomorrow. And I took the time to make sure I am available for my girl. She'll be just fine.
A bonus is a very large check in the mail from that emergency fund I didn't want to touch. Still don't want to touch it, but I think the liquidation needed to happen just to keep the wolf from the door. It doesn't change the situation, but it is that back up...my peace of mind. And really it's all my Gran. I thought of her today, sort of wishing a thank you her way as the cottonwood bloom surrounded me in what we used to call "Santa clauses". And make wishes on. She is the one who gave me what I needed to be free of this.
And there the thing I forget. This is the path to freedom and a long time coming. I have power I rarely use in this. But now I'm going to have to start. And y'all know what they call most women with power...I really am way more comfortable being the girl next door in the house with the white picket fence, lving in Mayberry. Idyllic what what I spent my whole life achieving. But now it's time for adventure I think. Sad sorry heart...just send me some love y'all.
Thanks,
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Slept in blissfully. I know I should clear my window seat and get the a/c going, but I'm by the sea and the breeze is enough to sleep to. An empty house, folded back the old linen top sheet, and sleeping in the buff all help. There's nothing like a little salt breeze on bare skin in the dark. My friends inland tell me I'm lucky since it's far too humid there to do without the a/c. But then my home was built before the days of a/c, so the windows are plentiful (54! I counted!). And the ceilings high. Still can get a little dewy midday, but panty and bra less in my summer beach dresses changes the whole vibe of the day.
I've been thinking. Making parallels. Generally about the men I pick. I do get invested sometimes too fast. I bond through communication. And I care as I look at it like making a friend. Sure it's a friend I want possibly to fuck...oh, like def to fuck...but it's not love. It's just making connection. And OMG, connection is what I am all about. Except I want it real. I want to meet. Touch a hand. Give a hug. See the expression in someone's eyes, feel their energy. And I don't even want to meet at a steady time every week because the expectation of giving someone my every non-child evening is claustrophobic to me. But to escape together in a moment of pure beauty and fun...now that's what I want. But everything has to be so damn complicated. And most men, I've found lately, are more conservative than I about the need to own me. That's not going to happen.
Yeah sure, I want something meaningful. And I want my horizons expanded. But nobody is quite steady enough, positve oriented, sex driven, and clear for me. I believe he's out there. I feel sure of this. And maybe I have to finish up the uglies in my life to make space for him. But I'm ready. And in the meantime, I'm going to find a way to live more than a little, poorer or not.
I'm giving someone a second chance tonight. Rumor has it he's 9" and thick. But if this guy is another no show, I at least know right now how walk away without regrets. "Cause then he's not taking up the time or space that needs to be there for the right guy. He's coming my way...I'm feeling it.
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Slept in blissfully. I know I should clear my window seat and get the a/c going, but I'm by the sea and the breeze is enough to sleep to. An empty house, folded back the old linen top sheet, and sleeping in the buff all help. There's nothing like a little salt breeze on bare skin in the dark. My friend's inland tell me I'm lucky since it's far too humid there to do without the a/c. But then also my home was built before the days of a/c, so the windows are plentiful (54! I counted!). And the ceilings high. Still can get a little dewy midday, but panty and bra less in my summer beach dresses changes the whole vibe of the day.
I've been thinking. Making parallels. Generally about the men I pick. I do get invested sometimes too fast. I bond through communication. And I care as I look at it like making a friend. Sure it's a friend I want possibly to fuck...oh, like def to fuck...but it's not love. It's just making conneciton. And OMG, connection is what I am all about. Except I want it real. I want to meet. Touch a hand. Give a hug. See the expression in someone's eyes, feel their energy. And I don't even want to meet all that much because expectation of me giving someone my every non-child evening is claustrophobic to me. But to escape together in a moment of pure beauty and fun...now that's what I want. But everything has to be so damn complicated. And most men, I've found lately, are more conservative than I about the need to own me. That's not going to happen.
Yeah sure, I want something meaningful. And I want my horizons expanded. But nobody is quite steady enough, positve oriented, sex driven, and clear for me. I believe he's out there. I feel sure of this. And maybe I have to finish up the uglies in my life to make space for him. But I'm ready. And in the meantime, I'm going to find a way to live more than a little, poorer or not.
I'm giving someone a second change tonight. Rumor has it he's 9" and thick. But if this guy is another no show, I at least know right now how walk away without regrets. "Cause then he's not taking up the time or space that needs to be there for the right guy. He's coming my way...I'm feeling it.
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Yeah, I'm up too late. Idiots leaving the bars and I live on a Main Street down here at the shore. I'd just be woken by them all night. Well broke the stood up streak as had an actual date tonight. Not the right guy for me, but nice ink. I really have to stop with guys under 40. It's a little ridiculous. I did finally lose my freak about going out alone. Had a lovely dinner w/ margaritas at the bar tonight. Home for some outside time in the swing with wine. And ended up turning down two other guys who were likely to leave me high and dry in any case. Finally wearing out.
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Well I'm getting myself out there. Dating and such. Even though I know a guy is not really for me, he's an artist and kind enough in his own way. Far too young of course, but most men are for a woman my age. Older gets too old fast. And most of the ones that work are younger. Tried for a few more connections that were closer to right, but finally had to say no. If someone really wants to be with you they are. I'm tired of endless texts without real. And the key is having a willingness to walk. Well I've found my backbone and I'm willing to. I do have hopes of one guy but we will see if he actually meets. I'm being honest and real. And if he doesn't than okay. That makes space in my life for the right guy. And OMG I want sex to be beautiful instead of just satisfying.
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Numbed it. LOl...Just a little rum dumb. And getting some odd jobs done. OMG...I have an entire unplanned weekend ahead. And I'm not fucking a soul. This never happens. But maybe it's a lesson. I'm actually craving something meaningful. Yeah, me. So everything happens for a reason, I've got to think the party's demise is the same. Time to appreciate the opportunity, give it an oh well, and move on. Pen |
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The best laid plans...I don't think this girl is getting laid this weekend. But that's okay. No, actually, it's not. I really need to get laid. Really. Damn. Such a selfish little brat I am today.
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Thank you Karma. Cleaning the gasket on the front load washing machine, found a bill all folded up in there. A fifty spot. Awesome. I needed a little present.
Smiles, Pen |
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I did the hardest part of the work. It left me furious. Discovering untruths so extreme leaves me fiery and truly pissed. I shot tonight. Targets only. Bullseyes. The advantage to now is that anger is an energy source I can use. I had a week plus of shell shock. And no, I haven't quite figured it out, but I have lived and managed well on very little. The tortuous work is now on someone else's desk. I'll need to be patient and see what's next. Darlings if you do pray, pray. Or wish me good karma. I really haven't been all that bad. I could really use a share of the good karma right now.
But hell, it is a lesson. And I've been a partner to the mistakes made. Now I have to learn a new way and I'm gonna. So I'm learning. I'm horny as hell, but my dating site escapism has just led me to being stood up one too many times. Losing myself in a man is always my choice du jour. Probably best there isn't one here at present.
I did visit an old friend today who knows about selling possessions. He had some great advice and we love each other. (MInd you he's about 93). What a wonderful lovely man. I think we're going to have martinis in mugs one night; to me drinking out of a proper martini glass is akin to drinking out of a birdbath and just about as elegant when I do it. He knows what it is to live largely without the support of extended family. So we connected a long time back and I was there when he buried his wife 4 years ago. Oh he's one of the good ones. And we talk of anything under the stars except I don't get weepy or too personal. Martinis might mess that up.
I am hating my ex right now. He brought my son home last eve and left him here. I hadn't gotten back yet. And he didn't know his brother was in the house. He heard a noise and was frightened there was someone in the house who might hurt him. He found a dark bathroom and hid and called his father. I'd gotten home in the meantime, assuming he was just playing on his computer. Till I watched my ex try to break in to my home. Well, he explained the situation and I found my boy who was shaking with fright and tears. I brought him to the couch with arms around him and told him his father and I are right here and that we'd sit with him til he felt better. I looked up to see my ex tapping his watch because he had to go instead of giving his son a moment of comfort. Fury. Absolute fury. I was astonished. Gave him a down low fuck you finger. (I don't do that; but clearly now I do). And remained appalled. Now that I've called everyone and have a true financial picture I'm even more so.
I am truly pissed off beyond belief. This is good. Because anger is the one emotion that promotes change with me. And oh, this is change. No, I haven't quite figured it out yet. But I'm gonna.
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Okay so on to the sh%* work. It's not mud I'm slogging through anymore, it's sh%*. And everything about it stinks. Well I knew it would get bad. Hopefully this is the worst of it. Focus on a deadline tomorrow morning. Then do the work. But I feel fucked without any of the good fucking. I gotta fix that.
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Revisiting last night' s journal to see what slop I write when I'm drunk...and it really wasn't slop. Not very flowery or deive, but down to essentials. Surprised. After everyone went to bed I poured some of the whiskey bottle left from CW's time in my life. It's supposed to be good stuff, but tasted like rot gut to me. That's going to have to go into the cabinet for medicinal purposes only.
I've thought in the past that, given my family, I might have dependency or possible substance abuse issues. I think I could only go that deep and dark with sex. Maybe emotionally. But I don't. I just think far too much. And assess cost benefit and risk everytime. Would it be easier if I was stupid? Do you worry less if you don't think so much?
Avoidance. That's my current most dysfunctional coping strategy right now. And the incidence of avoidance is increasing. I remember times in my life when that was the coping strategy du jour. And it just made things so much worse. But fuck. I have to pull it together soon and do what I must. But honestly. I think I finally have an unsolvable problem on my hands. And it shouldn't be. I'm that "nothing's impossible" mommy-San. But I feel defeated.
Best just to force it out. But I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm scared as all get out. And I think I'm in the middle of some deep situational depression. Been here before. ButI forgot how I managed to get out of it. Well, starting with pouring my heart out here to at least empty it and my head of everything that's clogging me up.
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I want my life to be one the books I read. The ones that end happily ever after.
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Honestly, I suck sometimes. It was a great day. And yesterday was even better. For my children. And I may have a lead for a job that just may be exactly what my eldest son needs. It could change his life. If you pray, pray. I think it's critical for his development. And I'll do whatever it takes to get him there. It speaks to his biggest passion and he would shine. Please, please, please. All from some kind folks I've opened up to. I'm trying. I am.
Funny day. Blasts from the past. My youngest was injured today. Handled himself with great strength and resiliency. My girl was assertive and produced just what she needed to do. And all in all, I have the best family in the world. They just cleaned up their dinner dishes. And are talking and working together. And I'm going rum dumb. Dark and stormies after a rainy afternoon. Because there's still enough rum and gingerbeer in my stores and leftover lemon juice. And OMG it's good. But I'm numb. Rum dumb numb. Numb I'm not a fan of. But right now, no one has to wake early in the morning. No one needs to be driven anywhere. There's still a season of Carbonaro effect to be watched. And the children are happy.
There's are options ahead. I haven't figured it out yet. And the only thing about going rum dumb is that I also leave myself open and relaxed enough for the start of panic to worm in. And I'm not fucking going there.
Odd night. I heard from the my lovely former FWB, a police officer who is just as endowed with personal qualities as he is with the physical. Damned fine kinky man there. And quite frankly lovely to hear from him. That man got me through cuck when my heart was broken. Then who texts next, but cuck himself. More bs. But damn me, Part of me still wishes for him. He was the only guy I wanted to sleep with. I loved his skin. Otherwise I just want them to go home. Though I'm all mixed up. I crave a shoulder to fall asleep on these days. Hell, even the illusion would help. Just need someone to be nice to me.
There are more temptations, even a superhero of sorts. But damn, IDK that I have my act together enough to make choices. IF I start crying with someone these days, I might not stop. And that's not me. I'm really much better than this. But fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
That is of course what I need to do, fuck. Stress relief. Escape. Yeah all that. But I'd better buckle down and do. Wish me resolve folks.
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OMG, I guess it was a lucky escape. Boy some guys are just plain mean. I'm calling him The Bellhop because of his excess of baggage. I don't get it at all.
Awhile back, working my way through The Good Karma Divorce, I wrote my own letter to the universe manifesting what I really wanted. I never had the time to confetti it into the sea or light it afire. Just carried it in my purse til I could make time. And I didn't. I reread it just a moment ago. It talks about my fear of always being alone with my responsibilities, my desire to pay my bills on time, paying for the boys doctors, a father fully present in my children's lives, the children mutually supporting each other, a well kept safe home. Of course there's also lots of money paid regularly and quality time with my children...something we all struggle to balance. It's a luxury to be able to pay bills when they come in, fix things that break, keep the retirement till brimming, good food, decent clothing, camps and books.
Yeah, that's pretty much my list except for my deep desire for travel. I want to take my kids to see the redwoods in Cali and do that ride down the Keys. There are vague hopes for fear banished, confidence returned (not that I ever had much), glowing healthy people who love each other, joy, burdens shared....but not once do I mention a man. I thought I put it in there. I didn't. There's a vague implication of things shared. But nope. So maybe it's me who picks wrong. Because really I don't even know if deep down I want one. I am so afraid of ending up hating and hated again. I can't.
If I follow my Gran's example, (and Gran I love you still but I don't want to be you), I'll remain alone. She used to say "it's better than washing some old man's underwear." Really when it comes down to it. I don't think I'm very good at relationships. Taking care of people, yes, I'm stellar. But I think I pretty much suck. Sex. I can do that. And I say I want . But IDK if I even have a clue. And okay, the last of this part of my pity party...Idk if anyone would even want what's left of this heart. It's pretty fucked up.
But there've been postives too...I almost got a ticket I couldn't afford today but thank god I got a break. My son's medication which the new insurance company refused to pay for, even with 2 appeals.. Is finally covered in part. That alone adds about 17% more to my budget. Huge win there. And last night was beautiful even though it's not going to be what I thought it was with the Bellhop. There's something to be said for leaving drama and taking everything so personally at the door. The cardinal female is back at the window, teasing my cats and chirping away. My car has an oll change though I am going to have to figure out new tires. Still it's good. And my daughter is reading her new book while the boys and their friends are being intrepid adventurers and now fishing as the light starts to fade. Not bad. I wish I could relax with that wine, but I'm driving a child home. And I'm better. I think the congestion finally left my chest thought it wasn't without a coughing fit that almost scored me a Heimlich.
It was a beautiful day with baseball and sunshine to look forward to tomorrow and children I'm going to make work this weekend. Keep it up, please. I'll respond to your email. It's just I keep that as a special treat. As one of the few times I have to connect and I save it like a treasure. So tonight I'll tuck in and start writing back to those of you who have cared enough to help me. Because truly, I need y'all right now. I can stay calm, not take things personally, and try to stay about the fray in my life. But it hurts. I'm wounded and I bleed but nobody but you and I are going to see all that.
A teary-eyed,
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When things get too much for me I escape. There was the night I got to the bottom of a whole bottle of wine. And that's never happened before. But I know to nip potentially harmful habits in the bud, especially if there's a risk my stress relief witll fuck with my children's lives. So now I limit myself to a 3/4 glass anytime. Period. Because I am needy and craving escape so badly. I feel it most of the time, unless my brain is engaged doing something hard. A craving for rescue.
I'll admit it. I believed in fairy tales. Really believed. If I thought, and worked, and prayed, and just knew in my soul it would happen. It would happen. And for a time my life unfolded just like that. Poor girl, funny clothes. Smart though and decent enough. I'd read untold Architectural Digests starting with the first I bought with my 6th grade allowance. I was going to be an architect or a pilot or a professor. Instead I married into a family with all three. Instead of an evil stepmom, I had the evil mom. But there was my fairy godmother, Gran, who kept saving me. And the day I married, I did look like a princess. And everyone thought he was that handsome prince. I believed it too.
I know better now. But sometimes I wish I didn't. Because it's hard to have faith. And it's hard to want honesty so much. But I am actually behaving well. And I tell my truth. And I'm going to keep doing so. And really the knight on the horse thing...well, I'd just laugh and send him off to the Ren Faire. A guy who dresses for a part and play acts has no resemblance to what I want. I want real. And quite frankly if both our lives are in a transition, I want to weather it together, hang on, and figure it out. But now it's just me. I shouldn't say "just me." I am more than capable. I have developed the ability to leave drama in my head rather than subject anyone else to it. Today I'm really weary.
So damn tired. I did everything that was required of me this week, from serious mommy'ing to working my ass off and drying my tears. I'm ill. That upper respiratory infection that has everyone coughing is hanging on and some days I can't find the energy. But I just do it. I managed a dinner in 10 mins last night. Yes, that's progress for me, who makes Caesar salad and cupcakes w/ citrus buttercream alike from scratch. And only one needed take out dinner this week, Wendy's, without killing the budget, when I was just too sick. But I only had to feed two boys, so manageable. I get full on half of what I used to, so hopefully I lose more than my C cups.
I still don't know what to do. And I've been hiding. My ex and I are being kind to one another but soon I need to turn the screws on what he has to pay. The court forced one huge outlaw of funds from him. And now I have to provide the accounting for what is next. And I hate it, but the home has to be secured even if he feels fucked as a result. OMG, I hate this. IDK how I am in the middle of this. But I am. So I have to find my way out.
So my fav escape is quite frankly, men. I adore men. I do. Yeah, some of them are just too furry for me and I want to take a lawn mower to them. And some are just too damn pretty. I'm sorry but if he looks better in the mirror than I do, that's not going to work. I know, I know, it's not nice to say it, but it's true. But then there are the vast majority of guys who are regular Joes wtih a feature or two that stands out, and something about them they hate (like their big nose) that you adore. And then you get to know their spirit and laugh...add touch and I'm hooked. There's a man or two out there I never got to meet that I still crave because I didn't get to touch. IDK I need to touch. After I touch I can disconnect, but if I haven't I'm left wanting. I expect that's often how a man feels about a woman.
So I sort of disappeared this week and lost myself in a newish guy on a dating site. A lot of conversations, talking...GREAT voice, a little gravely, and that look. That look is my kryptonite. Clean cut. Short almost military hair. Strong chin, add a cleft or a dimple and I'm lost. Nice body but not necessarily cut. Just taller than me enough that I have to look up to see his eyes. So you know how it goes....all of a sudden you have all this stuff in common...we had nearly the identical odd mix of heritage, same degree, felt the same about endless topics, real conversation about the things you aren't supposed to talk about right away. And yeah, the red flags went up because it was too good. Too intense. And he was me in male form. Then we he joking pulled up the horoscope thing when we talked about out bdays and some stupid website used the word "soulmate," we'll what's a girl to do?
It's the phone conversations that do it. They build deeper intimacy and it's harder for me to disconnect. And then I feel awful if we don't talk every day. It's stupid. It's expectation when there shouldn't be any. But that illusion of great intimacy hooks me. And invariably I'll do something stupid like text, or pop out to my car in the middle of the night and FaceTime mutual masturbation. Yep, that's was my eve last night. Damn idiot. But I couldn't not. I wanted to hear him cum like nothing else mattered. It's been forever since I've heard a man cum.
Now y'a'LL know I go to the parties and sure plenty of guys cum. But they get taught or learn necessarily to do so quietly. I crave more than any other experience to make a man cum. And to look in his eyes and hear him. This guy. Damn this guy was fucking perfect. I can still hear his vocalizations. And yeah, I'd toss my panties to to get my hands on him for real. But I think it's not going to happen. And I want to text hm and say "hey" but I'm not gonna. Really though, where can we go from here? Hearing him was the pinnacle and a pleasure even though I'd rather feel him.
It's been a month almost since I've had real sex. I really need to fuck. But I need a differnt sort of fucking. Hell, I should just be grateful for what is. But if nothing else I'll get myself to the next one and try. I do have a date Tuesday eve. We're really not entirely suited, but I figure you learn from everyone and maybe my preconceptions need to be shaken up a bit.
Finally a genuine THANK YOU to y'all who've reached out to me. I feel sometimes entirely alone in this. And I need to know I'm not. And that is what you give me. As well as wonderful advice, suggestions on how to save (keep those coming; I have a lot to learn. I know some. I grew up quite differently than this well-to-do Mayberry I ended up in. But I love the trappings. I love my luxuries and treats, but I get that I've been lucky to have those as long as I have. And it's not that I'm even particularly high maintenance in things most women are like the car, clothing, shoes...although I've spent an inordinate amount on my hair. But the things I share...food, wine, tea, fishing trips museums, meals out, all those little treats and indulgences...the new rod for my son, the Gap shirts for my girl in every color, the new bike accessories for my youngest, bubble tea a few times a week, ammo to shoot, my Mother's Day fiesta.....that's where I piss it away. And that's why it hurts because I have to say no, no an no to all the things that used to be, "of course, let's go!"
I'm not stupid. And my problems have solutions. So if I can just manage to find them.
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Well so I keep on keeping on. Nothing solved but changes made. Spending peanuts and I'll keep doing on as little as I can. I have much to sort out but just began a few months intensive training class that is not my forte and splitting my brain enough to kill the tears. I'll take it. Everything for a reason. Thank y'all.
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I am trying. But I am breaking. I feel like I need to be wrapped tight just to hold together or all the pieces that make up me are just going to shatter apart. My children hug me. And it's a quiet shattering, like one piece at a time I'm just losing myself. I am deeply appreciative to those here who have reached out to me. But here it's just me and these precious people I've been given to care for. I'm rahter fucked. My mistake I suppose for expecting a positive outcome. But I'm losing my optimism and that was/is who I am. I'm losing myself here. I'll show up today but I'm not really here at all.
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Well my home is full with the children back again. Oh it's wonderful how they hug me and can't let go right away when they come home. I've taken a firmer hand with their father and his lateness. I totaled the time and said he would bring them back 44 minutes later this Sunday AND feed them dinner. It hurts giving him that time, but they ate a proper restaurant meal and a good one and had a nice bonding time with dad while saving me money. Good lord I sound like such a miser, and I'm the one who prefers to buy a date dinner...well, so be it.
I made a huge pot fo real chciken soup, stock and all from scratch. Gran taught me, though I'm not nearly as efficient as a depression era belle getting all the meat from the bones before the simmer. The result is a more flavorful broth, esp with all the herbs from the garden, but no meat. Lots of veges and an affordable loaf of bread and it'll do for tomorrow.
Working on a spreadsheet comparing prices of our regular items from store-to-store. But I start a class tomorrow which is blessedly paid for before this all went down. That will help my brain to not self destruct. I went overboard at a bday party last night on the prosecco. Drinking too much and alcohol is not on the budget. Fortunately there's enough to ration in the cellar. One glass tonight and I'm going to bed. Tomorrow will be none as I'm on driver duty from what promises to be a cold evening huddling on the bleachers at the baseball field. But it's good for me and better for my boy. He feels everything more than my other children. He needs other people more. And omg, he loves his mommy and isn't even embarrassed about it. I'm going upstairs to crawl into bed with him for a wee bit. And it will seem better. He's my magic.
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Damn the tears. I have spent the days since court pulling out my seldom-used dresses, more formal shoes, and painting my face. The theory is that if I look good, I'll feel better. IDK. I'm still moving. And I like that glass of wine when my driving is done for the day. But it's like I'm trying to recapture that earlier me, with that wide-eyed face, flowy dresses, in my perfect little picket fence existance. And that's going to go away. I know this is necessary, but WTF am I going to do?
I have protected my children as much as I could to make the world real but rosy. We know about money, hard work, responsiblity, consequences and teamwork. But at the end of every conversation I say, "We are a team. I am here to help and will always be here to help Nothing is impossible. And if you get in a situation where I am not there, remember you have each other and look out for each other. That is more than many people have. You love and like each other and that's a gift." And it's held true.
But it's been a long time (okay a few months) since they've seen me sit at breakfast room table crying my way through paperwork. But here I am again. And it hurts them. It worries them. They want to fix it. And that's not their job. They are CHILDREN. And they should be allowed to be just that. Not substitue therapists for a weepy mom. There's something verry wrong there. And I'm pissed at the situaton and myself for not being able to control my tears. There's a old preion of Xanax in the cupboard but I know it will numb me enough to not care. And if I don't care, I wont be able to find a solution. I'll just flounder along and that won't do.
I'm so fucked. And I don't want to give up the elements that make my life joyous. I'm beginning to think I took the wrong course, but I took it. I'm going to go shoot things for a bit, have an empanada and some tea, meet up with my BFF. And then I'll come home and clean up my bedroom littered with overturned high heels, lingerie and dresses hung over the chari, laundry baskets awaiting folding, and make it badk into my place of respite. Negative energy is strong stuff. It can be used to get a lot done. Especially the most physically ardous, Hell, maybe I'll chainsaw some saplings down too. No, never use a chainsaw alone.
I haven't figured this out. I'm thinking I'm not going to. I have to sit down and run some numbers for my attorney today and move this along. I want to just go home, and sit by Gran's grave, and tell her all my troubles. I need her so badly. I need someone but I got me. So fuck it. I'm still moving and I slept. But OMG I'm mad.
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It was a good day. Capital GOOD. Sunshine. Baseball. Tea and empanadas with my BFF. Another party with the crew, this one a bday and I brought a bouquet of Persian lilacs, money plant and the last tree peony. Every girl deserves flowers on her birthday. Thank heavnes for my past efforts in garden as I'm reaping the rewards now. Everything I plant has a scent. I am simply drawn by scent. Now if I could find that man whose scent on my pillows made me smile, oh now wuuldn't that be something?
I am still teary, good day or not, and fading fast enough to welcome that oblivion. Much to say but my brain is done.
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I am the least sporty girl you'll meet, but there's something about baseball. It was the only affordable game in town when I was growing up in a football town. I was never allowed to play it's close cousin, softball, because of the money. And I'm hopelessly lacking grace with a ball. Well the balls you throw...but there is much to learn about life in on a baseball diamond.
It's outer shell is just dirt or mud, but inside it's verdant. And those simple lessons about grit, effort, team, kindness, and how we all make errors. My son's team lost today but no one left feeling bad. They came back from a shut out and those are the games that keep you leaning forward in your seat. My son, never a strong hitter, hit. And my son, equally not a strong runner, ran. He didn't make it to home before the inning ended, but his smile is the most beautiful sight in the world. And the dude took me for a pack of bubble gum and sunflower seeds, but damn he's cute and I'm equally guilty of divorced mom syndrome and wanted to buy him something. See? Those 2 bucks could be more practically spent, but I don't want to give up buying my kids a treat.
I figured out a little. No more bottled water, clearly no pizza or eating out or take out anymore (and that's a big part of my budget), I can certainly eat less, my fishermen boys can fish more and there's all that trout in the freezer...I'm gonna miss the wine, but my friends have assured me they'll buy me a drink when I really need it....lol...Seasonal produce and kill the snack foods little bags for lunch. More work, more time, but it'll be healthier and I'll damn well figure it out. I am going to miss my escapes, so I'll just have to find new ways.
This is not going to be perfect. But I am going to figure something out. And I'm going to fucking be here somehow. IDK how yet. But I'm going to find a way to do this smart. A strange phenomenon is happening. People are being nice to me. And honestly, that's all I need. There's a core of women at these games who I've known from afar for many years. I've held back for a long time, mostly because ti took all my energy to hold myself together. My ex is completely flummoxed. We used to lean on the fence, space between us, an occasional comment, but apart from everyone else. I don't do that anymore. People are nice. And I'm nice. And I might have complained about that in the past, but honestly it's a really good thing. Nice is not a bad word. And so that's what I'm going to be too. A positive attitude, a nice word can make all the different in someone's day. It's been that way for me lately. So thanks y'all for those words and that support. I'm not out of the woods and I'm still crying buckets, but pain and change go hand in hand. There's better ahead; this is just the sucky part of deconstructing my former life.
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Well time to take a break from what seems impossible. It was a beautiful drive to the party last night, so for that hour I watched the sky change, railed, played really loud music that I sung equally loud and badly to...I dressed like the unapproachable me....emerald sheath, pristine ivory shrug, my fav buff patent pumps, and the remnants of the jewelry I'm not going to sell. Well yet. And I didn't play. I might have cried had I. But I was embraced, kissed, hugged, laughed and made others laugh. And this was a good thing. I am alone too much. So my friends and lovers are going to hold my hand a little tonight as I join them to celebrate another woman's special day. They're kind and welcoming and even when I'm not having sex, I love the sound of others feeling joy and cumming. We really should all fuck more. It's healing and damn good for you body as well as mind.
I still cry. Because I feel as if my whole life if falling away. But maybe it's only the parts I don't need. Still have plenty of work to do to figure this out. I know the lifestyle I built with my ex is unsustainable now. And I'm a girl who grew up on public assistance. Those of us who know what it's like to be under our nation's standards of poverty and powerless fear going back there like nothing else. The problem is that I started at 3 and ended up at 20. My children started at 20 and lose a little more each year. I know, I know...we're a great loving team and we do have the less quantifiable blessings that can't be counted. But honestly, money matters. Independence matters. Diet, health, stress factors, my presence with them, taking care of them, is what is going to be lost. I'll be taking care of them, but I'll be away from home more. And that, THAT is the crux. That is what I lose. And that is the part I can't bear because we've tried it before and they want and need me. So I'm fucking sad.
So a solution is to bring them into this process. I teach them about finances. No one taught me and I made too many mistakes early. Life is painfully expensive here. But others manage on less. I know I have ot get off my free range organic ass and figure out what is truly necessary. But I'm canny enough to see what's ahead. I'll make the damn money, but the cost to my family is high. Same damn thing I think we all struggle with.
Honestly folks, I'm blind. I don't know how other people manage to save money. So if you have any particular skill at this, reach out. I've got the house mostly managed for now, so shelter is going to be okay and more secure for a time. But really food and clothing IDK what I'm going to do. I'm left with 1/5 of what I had. I already buy at thrift for my daughter and have the attic hand-me-downs for the youngest. But I have a young man to clothe and a daughter who is growing into and impossible-to-fit svelte inbetween.
Sigh, time ti stop moaning and move.
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I'm having a really really hard time processing. I know there's a solution. There's always a solution but for the life of me I can't figure out what to do. And I can't let my children see me this scared and teary but I can't seem to control my reaction at the moment.
I'm trying. I'm sitting here working out all the figures. And it's just not enough. I'm coming out of this worse than I expected. Maybe I should've taken the first offer way back when. IDK. I'm here now. And I have a mess to figure out. And I'm not even sure I have the right perspective. Well I have to figure this out.
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Such a rough day. My life is getting tossed. One pleasure was superman's sppearance, and the thought of flogging him. But OMG I just might be fucked.
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Saved the angst and need to put someone through the torture of a formal eve and just said no. The other men weren't so well behaved last time and botox isn't beautiful to me, so not a huge loss. I'll miss my lovely friends but we medicos tend to either gross out or piss off our dates who all have the same complaints about the efforts we put in elsewhere. A male nurse of occupational therapist would be right up my alley, someone with a life who gets it. LOL...as if there were a passel of them lined up! Well I'm roadtripping this weekend, with or without company. Next week starts a bit of craziness again but it's time for that extra glass of wine and a new adventure. Legal stuff ahead too...it's going to be a bit of a long night. On a positive note, talking to my lovely superhero fellow kinkster on here last night, we shared our experiences of that truly magical kiss you get maybe once or twice in a lifetime. All my talk of kissing, I'd forgotten how fortunate I've been in the past when there wasn't a dearth of romantic moments. And remembering my very young self and that beautiful time of being in the center of magic was good for me. Very good for me. Can we still manage those moments when perfection has ceased to be a priority? Hell, a long conversation over dinner and a peck looks good right now...(smile). Pen |
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Where to find a perfectly respectable guy, a jeans and tee weekender guy, who can rock a suit when called for? So another formal fundraiser I had a blast at last time that I feel compelled to say no to since I can't imagine a guy who would sit through that with me. Could be a superior networking thing, but it would just be far too awkward for someone without a sense of adventure. I'm going to have to say no. I don't know that I can rock something like that alone. And certainly not enjoy it. But oh last time I did, I did....What to do, what to do...CW was a trooper at the last one even with his rough edges. And I'm keeping clear of the Vegan; he'd be offended at the filet. Funny the minute I have time open up, I become freakishly interested in the mundane. And what would barely bother me a week ago takes on epic proportions.
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My fav comfort food is matzoh ball soup. I'm not Jewish but I could've done with a nice Jewish grandma. Diner time at one of my favs. And a bit of time to get caught up on all I must. It's a pleasure but nature abhors a vacuum.
So now there's space in my life. Do I fill it? Or do I leave it empty and let happen what will?
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Tremendous progress today. Huge effort. Thank heavens. Progression is what I need.
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Enjoying the end to a wonderful Mother's day. Our house isn't like some of the others on my street with endless cars at the curb. We are quieter here, my little family and I, but no shortage of love. They woke me (in itself a gift since I have the damnest time waking them otherwise). They resembled sodden puppies since they all had wet hair. Puzzeled, I asked them if they'd all showered that morning. They smiled and passed me with a vase of lilacs and peonies they'd gathered together in the rain. I'm a lucky lady.
A beautiful card. A breakfast and a beverage menu to choose from, served on the bedtray that comes out once a year. I was tempted to challenge my teen to egg in the nest, but didn't want to see the kitchen afterwards, so it was fruit and a bagel, tea/oj/seltzer. When I eventually did come downstars hours later, it was to a giant banner wishing me Happy Mother's Day across the living room. It is duct taped to the sheetrodk so it may stay up for many years to come...I made everyone dress properly for tapas dinner tonight...way outside their usual haunts. Amazing, fun, completely different and a bit of a culinary adventure. First margarita was free to the mommy at the table and REAL. It's been a long time since I've had a margarita that good. Well a pair of margaritas that good. Gelato around the corner and an all around great evening.
I used my mommy pull this weekend to get the yard cleaned up, mowed, boxes moved to the attic. I worked beside them, but really they were very very kind to me. They get what I do. They get what I give. And I get what they give back to me. I don't think it's all that common to truly appreciate the other people in your family the way we do each other. But then I grew up in a very different family than the one I created from scratch here.
It's a beautiful night. I'm tucked into my swingasan chair, just floating. Candle lit. The solar laterns are just coming up. And my youngest son is laying spead out on a bench that doesnt quite fit him anymore. It's getting chilly but it's still so beautiful with leaves on the trees, my peonies blooming, and a respite from a week of rain. The boys had a tea off tonight, both bringing me cups to the terrace. Little man picked fresh mint and brewed a tisane. I asked him about all the leaves I was supposed to eat along with the tea, until I taught him how useful a strainer can be. And my giant child brought my steady decaf green, my nightly cuppa. Both want me to pick which is best, but of course I won't because they're both best. Just like the boys themselves.
I'll have to tuck in soon, or at least go inside but this is just nice. The driveway lightposts are lit, my youngest is playing wall ball of the shed while the others shoot hoops. And it's just a nice night in my little corner of Mayberry. These are the nights I should be spanking for wanting more,because really is a partner going to bring all that much more to my life or is he going to leave less of me for everyone else? That's always been the problem. There's too little of me left after I do what I have to for anyone else. And I'm not about making anyone who cares for me unhappy.
But oh, there are so many things I would like to do and explore. I've done so alone, but really it kind of sucks. A dinner partner. A friend. A lover. Hell, even a sometime lover/dinner partner would do. I was probably the only single adult with her children in the restaurant tonight as I so often am. There are times that bothers me. But my dinner companions rock, so I didn't feel so out of place tonight. I teach as we go. We learn language, food, culture. finances, collaboration and compromise. It's pretty damn cool.
But when it's just me as it will be more of ahead, I get a bit out of sorts. I love company. I love sharing experiences. Plus there's something reassuring about a shared history. And there's the greatest pleasure in sharing a pleasure of mine with someone experiencing the same for the first time. Tonight just watching my sons close their eyes and involuntarily moan at the taste of something new and remarkable made me grin so wide. I have so many things to share and plently to learn myself. But an adult partner, well, I think that's going to take more time than I have patience for. I need a night. I need conversation. Dinner. Taking someone's hand as you walk. Playfulness. Kissing. I really need kissing. The rest is easy for me, crazy naughty bedtime. Speaking of which it's my bedtime...without the crazy or naughty.
Best wishes those of you who are mother's out there and everyone who supports and loves them.
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Wrote this yesterday but wasn't up to posting it until today:
For someone who prefers to get down to business and straight to the fucking when it comes to sex, I find myself fantasizing about kissing. It's been a long time since I've been kissed properly. I have to agree with the working girls' premise that kissing is more intimate. There's that moment when eyes meet....and I know I want to KNOW this man and take my time to explore lips, mouth, tongue....draw my lips down that slight sandpaper feel of a man's chin. It's why I adore men so much...the textures are all entirely different than my own and that first touch makes me wish for more.
It's been a long time since I've wanted to kiss a man. CW was the last man I was truly intimate with. I'm sorry to say kissing was not a skill he had. Fabulous at repeated fucking, but no no no with the kissisng. It was how I knew we had met before....such a spectacularly bad kiss that I knew immediately I had kissed him before decades ago and decided not to date. But kissing stopped being important to me for a long time. As did real intimacy.
I've had a decade of relationships I went in knowing were limited duration. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Especailly since I've already experienced marriage and children and priorities changed. I don't need nor did I think I wanted a "keeper." I wanted sex. A lot of sex. Every way you could have it sex, I don't know if I was making up for the dearth of it in my marriage. Or if I was sticking it to my ex by fucking men he didn't like in my bed. Or pehaps I just needed to be wanted. I know what it was. It was pure escape.
It still is. Kink, esp rope, was the ultimate escape for me. I couldn't do anything if bound but surrender to the situation. Darlings...it was WAY better than meditation. I was nothing but fully present in the moment. There is a zen to rope for me. But rope too is deeply intimate. Trust mandatory.
Still I can't start looking with a short laundry list:
Kissing
Rope
A guy with big beautiful brain.
The kink has always grown from the dynamic of being together. I'm a PITA and demanding sexually. But I give way more than I get. I saw a word the other day that I haven't given thought to for a long time, "devotion." I am devoted to those I love. Beyond reason. I go deep. The men I've felt that for leaves fingers to spare on one hand. I am devoted to my children. We're devoted to each other, our little family. But I dream of being lucky enough one day to be one half of that little old couple you see leaning into each other as they hold each others arms walking into the restaurant. You know who I mean. The couple that makes you smile and have faith. The couple who still catch each others' eye with a smile and wordlessly knows what each other is thinking.
I want to get excited about someone. To look forward to him. To smile just thinking about his last kiss.
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A lovely night, even if I didn't cook a meal still again. Exhausting day, but more progress. It's really a wonderful thing to have my children home again. My bed is everyone's favorite place and I don't usually share it so it's rather wonderful to have them come in to wish me goodnight and slip in for a little end of the day pillowtalk. My youngest, a boy, is very very kind to me and will rub my shoulders as he talks about my day. Okay so he's also fascinated by my ageing hands as I remember doing the same with my Gran. Your veins get more prominent and bring to life the dittos on the circulatory system they do in school. So if the boy wants to trace my veins, well they go right back to my heart where I hold him dear so let him go.
I nudged them out and the wee cat who had snuck in (I don't allow pets in my bedroom). They had sandwiched me and I miss their warmth, our giggles, and just how healing their presence is to me. Before he left my son folded the blankets over just so I'm properly tucked in as I do for him. They know Mondays are rougher than other days for me and roll with it. Heavens, I love them....
I've another week til I can read one book for pleasure. New one by Randy Wayne White who I love. All those South Florida mysteries with a little environmental education to boot.
It's an early wake up to make scones for a ladies' tea in town. This time for profit. And we'll all benefit from it for breakfast. I'll fill them with the last of the Jersey blues we picked at the organic farm last year. That's what takes them by surprise, the sweetness. And they're not dry. I hate scones but I like mine.
I'm craving conversation. I've a breakfast meeting/continuing ed thing on Wednesday that will turn into a cozy lunch with the women I admire and am lucky enough to work with. They surprised me today with their version of a spa bag to get me through this week, one we all dread a bit. Just lots to know, lots of judgement, and plenty of associated stress.
I think perhaps some relationships are best kept at what they are. Otherwise I end up wanting more than I can have. And I don't know that my hopefulness is quite sturdy enough to hold up against disappointment. It's a new borne...beautiful...but a fragile thing. I'm hoping my new found optimist is more hardy.
I have the venue of the parties to keep my more practical needs met. I am not going to reach out to the Vegan because I want someone to look at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. But that quiet little corner of romance in me is waking up. So long as I can keep it from clamoring, I should be fine. But oh, I want. Don't know if I can handle it but I want it. I know, I know...my mantra should be "be happy with what you have." And that's a lot.
My tall teen just made his rounds. Turning in his ipad before bed and sitting on the edge of my bed to wish me a good night and tell me he loves me. We talked fishing and projects and a speech he needs to write. And we laughed about how I really wish he still fit under my chin when I hug him. But now it's I who fit under his. Strangest sensation when your baby grows bigger and stronger than you.
I visited the orphan squirrel today, and brought along still more bday cake. But only one guy working at CW's place. I know him and he's the master of daddy'ing sick animals. We talked out back and he showed me the duck pair who moved in, nesting under the Yews. And brought out the baby squirrel who promptly tucked into his hoodie pocket and peeked his tiny head out. Goats milk via eye dropper and he tucked his little paws around it like a infant would his bottle. Really a remarkable thing. I was afraid to ask since last week as I thought he might not have made it. But he may have doubled in size. I caressed his soft forehead before he tucked back in for a nap. Beautiful thing.
I miss someone but hell, that's de rigeur for me. I'll deal.
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I think I might have had a little 3 day mid-life crisis this weekend. So self-indulgent and unapologetic about it...well, hell if you can't indulge yourself on the anniversary of another year you managed to stay alive and healthy on this earth, why not? So what happened? I had more people be kind to me than ever before. I came home to find a fellow mom, our daughters are good friends, had left me a lovely present and and gift card to take the children and I out to dinner. I'm still in tears over that one. She remembers what it's like to be single, sorting out a complicated divorce, and no longer having that mom to reach out to be there. What a kind and unexpected thing to do.
I am really grateful because quite frankly I've been a hermit. I'm not naturally outgoing, nor have I ever craved social interaction like I do now. I don't know what this is, hormones or menopause or just the simple recognition that I want to get back to living. The failure of my marriage killed me for a long time. I did everything right. I followed the rules. I waited until I was dead sure we were secure and on the same page before having children. But I ended up not liking the man very much and that low level contempt (not necessarily without cause) was the death knell. But oh, I'm still pissed off I didn't give my children that intact family I had hoped to. The first two years of my separation I couldn't even tell a soul. I don't know why we women blame ourselves, it does take both. But I have my share of the culpability.
Today was wonderful. If any of you have a chance to do a Restaurant Tour in your local towns, get out there and do it. A wonderful day, even if it was in 5 hours of chill and rain. They even had a jazz quartet on the corner...first time I felt like the old, more sophisticated me in a long time. Except I'm way more friendly.
Well my children arrived home today and my daughter brought presents. She's so clever. The minute I opened the paper I could smell the honeyed scent of beeswax. One of my favorite things are local beeswax candles. Smokeless, non drip, and your house fills with the faint scent of honey. Such a kind girl. We're working our way through a mother/daughter journal. With my bday followed by mother's day next weekend, I'm scoring good on the mush....Smile.
So I've never really taken two whole days off before from responsibility. I didn't do any of the mommy things, The children came home to no tp, no bread, no stacks of clean laundry on their beds, no home cooked Sunday dinner and the milk had gone sour. The milk never goes sour in this house. I suppose I should feel guilty. But I don't yet. My eldest asked me to show him how to make mac & cheese, then walked over to the convenience store to get the milk. Then he scavenged for tp in the commercial space. And now he's doing his laundry. Maybe I should let things go a little more often and let others step up. I really work my ass off. It's a little crazy, but it's what I do. And I never quite got it.
But tomorrow it's back to the real world. But damn. This year isn't like the others. I'm really not as alone as I kept myself before. And that, well, that's the best gift of all.
Thanks for listening. I know all to well I sound like a stuffed shirt PITA some of the time.
Pen
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A lovely day yesterday and I made it through without getting TOO maudlin. I feel it, can't help it, as I sit in the breakfast room watching the rain drops droop the lilac blossoms. I'm a nurturer and growing things is in my blood from my green thumb Gran. Every birthday year I plant something durable. Far too many lilacs as of all the senses scent is the most enticing to me. I re-read Whitman's poem since I can't help myself...the one with "when lilacs last in the dooryard bloomed." It's beautiful and sad, similar to how I feel this morning. I had my breakfast mangoes and tea and a little weep for Gran. I miss my rock. Heaven knows what she thinks if she's watching me from up there. But she was a hoot so maybe she'd give me a fist pump with a "you go girl." Well I do what she did.
When her husband died at 46 she was brave enough to let him go as he asked. He was very ill and soon to be wheel chair bound and when the last MI took him he begged her to hold him and let him go. And she did. I don't know if I could be that strong with someone I loved that much. But I can let go even if I have to MAKE myself do it because instinct tells me to hold on. I make myself give my little birds the freedom to leave the nest in increments and try hard to help them learn the skills they haven't quite got yet. They are all going to be amazing adults given they're already good people who try to do the right thing, have a sense of humor that won't quit and know when I'm not there they have each other which is a whole lot more than some of us have. And then there's me, their sometimes fierce, but mostly cuddly momma bear.
Darling Dom and I spent my birthday eve driving the windy back roads in his fancy car that makes me laugh loud how he takes those curves. I don't envy men their toys, I just want to play with them now and then. No not that PLAY... He is simply the best of my friends and I hope his next job is local as I would miss him deeply. We went to the range but my aim is off as of course life has gotten in the way of my weekly practice. I need to go back when things slow. Shooting things is one of the best stress relievers for me. Oh, and by "things" darlings, I most def mean TARGETS. Bullseyes really. Something so satisfying and makes me feel just plain badass. Badass is not a feeling most 50+ women get to feel all that often. I pulled the Harley jacket with the bling out of the back of the closet too, feeling sexy at any age is a good thing.
Dinner, those lovely orange/ginger mules with Capt Morgan's I love so much, and home for our usual tea, technology, and talk in the breakfast room as the night gets darker. And presents! Gotta love a guy who buys you ammo and the funniest card that starts "According to a recent study the older a woman gets, the more likely she is to fantasize about having two men..." The man knows me. We sit and talk about our respective love lives. And he's one of the few people I listen to. I tried Guru again at his advice. But I might be too old for the man. Between Guru and the party, last night I was walking like a cowboy and wincing when I got out of his low slung car. But listen to me complain when in the past, I'd crave that sensation. But well...shallow or not, we want to be desired. And I'm at the age of invisibility. Normally I'd be happy in that role, but without a partner who fills that need and I his, well, I figure out what works. I'm still smiling at Viking and Irish's telling me "no, don't get a boyfriend." Well I have a few unsent emails to the Vegan and it might be time try a shot in the dark. But I'm going to wait until I'm not stressed and looking for escape. I may seem like a shallow sex-crazed MILF, but I never want to hurt a soul. I miss the MD guy. His soubriquet is going to be the Drummer boy for now. We exchanges pics and I think perhaps he thought I was this sexy blonde gym rat chick. Not. I'm smarter than I am sexy. So maybe just have to find that sapiosexual nerd out there for me who has that deeply physical side like me. Too bad. I miss being tucked in at night by his rather fab voice.
So DD is going to help me to hold back (I hope) from starting anything I can't finish. And I'll keep doing what I'm doing. Shooting more at the range. Working my ass off at work and with school. The light at the end of the tunnel is getting bigger and brighter. And the court case...progress! Not enough to make me feel quite safer, but enough to move things along. And progression/movement is good for all of us. Well it's a blessing that I am never bored. And I find folding laundry as quietly zen as the glow post-coitus. Pleasure has many manifestations and I'm going pursue those I can. Conversation is the one I really really crave right now. Smart guy conversation. So if you're one of those, let's talk!
Pen
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Such an interesting night. Such a variety of experiences that hit me on different levels. And IDK if I'll ever have quite such an experience again so the writer in me wants to memorialize the night in words 'cause that's the way I roll.
I'm grateful today for so many kindnesses. Viking who sat through 2 hours of traffic to come pour me wine and give me my first erotic massage. Girls, a g spot massage might just be heaven on earth. The viking and I will be hanging out more often. Charmer, that Viking...we'd met at my very first brave foray to the parties. We couldn't stop talking. Since cuck I've had a long fascination with sharing a guy, esp orally, with a man I have a connection with. We started with Viking's bi experiences, talking, letting him hold me while another man would fuck me, that sort of thing. We never even fucked before my g spot massage last night. OMG, you can see he has a beautiful cock, always always hard. I've never seen him soft. Amazing. But more so he is a core introvert like me and it's not easy for him to connect with people. He's also had wide and varied experiences with both sexes that I'd love to hear his stories. Knowledge of things I don't know drives me and talking about sex is just fun.
The Viking and another man I am enamored of ,Carlo, walked me to my car. I could tell Carlo wanted to stay, and I wanted him to so much. But hopefully the opportunity to further our connection will come next month. He is simply one the most physically appealing men I've ever seen. There's just a beauty to his skin and his lips, eyes, hair...I just want to look at him. Hispanic with broad shoulders and tall, he's fit but not buff. The way men used to be before 6 packs became the new standard of male fitness. I love that, flat belly without the ridges of muscle. But maybe that is only achievable by his youth. IDK, but oh Carlo and I can look into each other's eyes when we fuck and I tell everyone else to go away because with him I only want to be with him. And he can't stop. He comes back and back. What woman of a certain age wouldn't be susceptible to a man like that? I
Got lost in Carlo there for a moment. That what I seek really, a man I want to get lost in who can feel the same about me. In any case, the Viking and I talked carried in the rain for nearly 2 hours. We were both cold but didn't want to stop talking. Well, at one point I did, but really...what are you going to do when a man just gave you one of the most amazing experiences of your sexual life? He said he felt like he was in hs, awkward talking to me, but didn't want it to end. Sigh. Might be one of the most charming things a grown man has ever said to me. Wonderful conversation though. I expect he's like me, seeking sex positive people I can just talk freely with. Though it's much harder for him being a bi male to talk about his various preferences. Not a bf type of guy, Viking, but a privilege to know him. He asked me to consider seeing him one-on-one but I have to be careful there since I want to keep this a very special sometimes sexual friendship over anything heavy.
And there's the thing too. I think I want a boyfriend. Of course I have about 4 1/2 months of slowing schedule approaching to have one then IDK what I'd do. So I shouldn't even attempt it. But oh, I want that big broad shoulder and that chest to lay my head on while I listen to the rumble of his voice. I want those moments so much that I forget how hard the emotional part gets. And the endless "where do you want to go for dinner?" and scheduling and the "damn, I didn't get a blow job last night and I'm mad at you" fume. Shouldn't happen as I love oral with a guy I'm connected to. I remember with one bf I'd ask to take his cock out just so I could practice since I wanted to learn at the time how to get every inch of him down my throat. I managed to in about a month of intense practice. But not all. The ones I inevitably like are far too long.
And then there's Franco, with his beautiful soul. He's my protector at these parties. And so so kind. He wanted to date, but I put him off and put him off...our schedules don't mesh well at all. That man went out and ordered me a cake. The biggest damn cake I've ever seen. It was utterly charming and made me cry. As an adult, I've never had anyone go to the trouble for me to plan and execute such a thing. And this party, it was all Franco's doing. I love him absolutely love him. IDK if I can date him as I'm not as attracted to him as he deserves, but he might just be the best man around. That's always the crux isn't it? You want the badass man and the nice guy you wish you could. I think if I start to see anyone it should be Franco but I don't want to ruin it. He's just plain good people. Oh, and he taught me something new. Apparently it's good luck to smear you name in the icing before serving your cake. Gotta love the Italians.
We laugh together, all my sex positive friends and I. I tell them about Mayberry USA which essentially sums up where I live as these folks are far more urban than I. Hell, my house actually is surrounded by a white picket fence. And I like that. It's sometimes felt like a guided cage. But I have this odd strong set of values while remaining sexually open. I told them I was thinking seriously about maybe letting a boyfriend/deeper relationship happen. And if I let myself go there, that's an end to my parties. But I love them. All my monogamy, loyalty and honesty seem impossible if I want to keep that group. Actually maybe I just may have to rethink monogamy...I watched the Viking fuck another woman and all I thought was "cool" so that's what it must look like when he fucks me...Can't quite get my head around it, but oh, it was FUN letting my bad girl out to play.
Oh, and it's my Birthday! Love and tons of fucking to y'all,
Pen
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Made it through, let the revels begin...My bad girl side is coming out to play.
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A very busy rather stressful end to the week the next few days, but I'm starting more relaxed than I've been in a long time. My recent reconnection with Guru is a large part of that, but I forgot how the man can leave me with aches in more places than I thought were muscles. I'm sore and tired but I don't think there's an iota of tension left in my body. So needed. And I'm grateful.
A little wine tonight and a lot of sleep should cure what ails me. Still there's something that makes me smile when my pains are from excess rather than not enough.
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Wine tonight and a little procrastination. So okay too much Grey's Anatomy on Netflix too but it has all the medical stuff I love with all the drama/sex, however unrealistic. I'm craving sex and more, but not the drama. I'm a PITA. I want romance, but struggle not to roll my eyes in disbelief when I get it.
It was a beautiful day. Huddled under an umbrella at a baseball field in the morning but it cleared to a wonderful sunny day this afternoon. The batting advice is working, both youngers got hits today. Surprised them as much as me. There was a child on the field, other team, who is handicapped. Fierce and spunky girl. Well she got a homerun. And it wasn't given to her, but earned. Though people focused on getting outs on the other bases over her. I like kindness. I love kindness. Kindness melts me. And today I got teary watching a child not my own run for home and her whole team celebrate. I lose my voice and get teary. My son asked if everything was okay and what was up with the girl on the field. I told him she's just built differently than the rest of the player but she's the same age and look at her go. And then there's the elusive superhero attorney I want to tie up and show my chain mail flogger....
I tell the children I'm essentially a soft hearted wuss. They think it's a bad thing and reassure me with "no, your not." But I am. Babies, puppies, kittens, the underdog...can bring me to tears. A friend of mine sent me pics of a baby squirrel he's raising since the mother was killed today by a hawk. One of his staff's big hand feeding this tiny thing goat's milk. But then it's babies time of year. I still have my two miracle babies, cats, who were 1 week old kittens abandoned by their feral mother at a friend's house. It's really amazing who thrives and who doesn't.
Completely off topic my best friend suggested I stop thinking/talking or even considering talking to the people I am at present. He claims I'm just settting myself up again for disappointment. Well the Englishmon was that, damn shame there, but I knew better. Cuck is just a disaster in the making, but I know better. CW, oh heaven knows, that's going to head south fast if I start that up again. And darling Vegan...sigh, intelligent conversation and some spanks and a man who looks at me with stars in his eyes...but I have to think too much...watchg my leather and fur, never eat red meat in his presence, and heaven forbid my mainstays of eggs and the core of baked goods, butter. I love tofu and am a serious vege/fruit maven, but limits of any kind just piss me off. I'm talking to a man I'd love to know better in MD, but there's something off about how long he takes to get back to me as charming as he is. Plus really, it's not like we'd meet if he's 3 hrs away, though he's tempting.
My bestie says Guru. Maybe he's right. Guru and I would always get to the point where I'd rebel against his Latino machismo. But damn, the sex was stellar. He'd push and push me. And really, I'm best if pushed. And now and then we'd have a scene where he grab me by the throat and push me against the wall and I'd literally drip. And of course the man could fuck. The way I like and so few can sustain. Hard, deep, a little rough. And when I'd be gasping and say I couldn't cum anymore, he'd make me cum again. I have to admire that. Plus the man has a brain. And I let him in. IDK maybe. I want something. Sometime deeply intimate safe, and exciting. And really, I'm not willing to wait forever. And the thing is, he knew me at the beginning when I got brave and decided to find the sex, kinky or not, that I wanted. He, cuck, Darling Dom, and The Mistake. I'd met them all essentially around the same time. Darling Dom and I became the best of friends and not playmates. The Mistake was my first foray into the dark side. Hot, there was rope, and a bunch of stuff that vered on non-consensual. Cuck, now that was both beautiful and tragic for me. How a man who is nothing I admire (honest, honorable or loyal) could feel so close to my soulmate still troubles me. My judgement troubles me on that. But for a time I was loved, and oh, I really needed to be loved then.
And then there was guru. He taught me a lot. Gave me a wee bit of career advice, the important kernels I needed to keep me on task. Taught me how to do anal sex without the unbearable pain that used to go alone with it for me. It's still not my fav route, but his teaching helped me to teach others who didn't do it right, how to. First anal o's. Maybe my only anal o's. And he taught me that I can actually run out of squirt. Now that's an achievement. I need smart. He's got that. IDK, he has a difficult schedule; I have a difficult schedule. But I can talk to him baldly about everything. And hell, when I was getting over cuck, he could handle me crying while fucking for awhile. Thank goodness that stopped. Though I wouldn't mind being brought to tears at the beauty of endless orgasms.
Sigh, I'm too horny for my own good tonight.
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I'm a sap. Words can make me melt. Most of us females are mindfucks whereas the avg male tends to be all about the visual. I am completely suseptible to words and a glance. And usually don't look twice at a guy with a six pack. I mean I guess it's nice, but I just always think hmmm, someone else with too much time on his hands and too many mirrors. Not fair, I know, butt we older chicks with wobbly parts need our alternate versions of reality too. Still I have great breasts. Real ones too. Not too big, not too saggy, but I'm actually noticing them in my collection of v-necks out with the warm weather.
I've been reacting to stress atypically. I want to fuck of course, my absolute best cure for all that ails me. But it's fake cocks and the wand for now. Lots of angst and negative energy with the court case heating up. But I decided to just deal with it as thoroughly and as fast as possible and then make it go away. Hours. Got the papers yesterday afternoon unexpectedly, called my litigtor, and worked on a point by point response myself. 8 1/2 hours all told. But my last teary day I tried to do something productive and organized bank records; it paid off now. Facts, figures, supportive evidence. Research is my thing. And writing. If I didn't love people and sex so much, I'd go move to that log cabin I've got my eye on in the NC mountains. Bears worry me though. I'm the one who'd come face to face with one. Wildlife loves me. Last night I had the ducks I'm calling Fred and Ethel on the lawn, Oscar the cottontail rabbit 2 feet from chair on the terrace, and there's an owl in one of my beat up trees. It all tells me the lawn better get mowed this weekend.
It's like my whole body breathed a huge sigh of relief. I'm seriously sleep deprived. Have been all week. And tucked myself away on the other side of the field at the baseball game last night with my laptop on a park bench working. And I mised my daughter's hit and time on base. Yeah, not good. But I was there. I have to do better. Worse thing is I lied and said I saw it. Felt completely wrong. I'm going to do better. But I did what needed to be done I think as much as I'd rather it was different. I want so much to be a good parent. I think I get caught up too much in what I need to do work wise and with this case. I don't know a better way than to just do what I must. Usually I try to structure in a reward family trip thing for us all when we all get through the hard things we need to do. An adventure would be a very fine thing for us all.
Well, hopefully this will do what must be done and we will come out with less stress as a result.
Instead of sex, tonight I think it's wine and flowers and maybe set upt the firepit and burn old homework to make the kiddos smile.
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So all this age stuff. I have a birthday coming up. 50 I did okay. My daughter and I got on a plane and had ourselves a blow out weekend in Key West. But now there's no big birthday excuse to make it awesome. And quite frankly I'm getting f'ing old to care about things as much as I do. And I do. I care so much. But the people who used to indulge and coddle me are gone. And sure, I could do it for myself, but c'mon that's just self indulgent and a little sad
Well the boys from my monthy party thing are throwing me a shingdig. I don't think anyone has since I turned 40 a decade ago. That year didn't go well as a few months afterwards I lost everything And almost lost myself when I figured out I was a cliche and my husband was f'ing his secretary. How I survived that year is still a miracle to me. But it did inspire me to buy my first sex toys and find my own first orgasms. And well, there've been a hell of a lot of orgasms since. So I can't reallly count it as a loss.
I'm horny. I really freaking horny. My breasts aches to be sucked and kissed and pinched. And y'all know how I feel about fucking. So it's odd, but these guys who don't even really know me. Well, they know the essential me. They don't know all the parts of me that get in the way of me being me. Well it looks like for the first time in my life these lovely guys are going to make a birthday all about me. I feel a little bit pitiful for being so touched. But qutie frankly there isn't anything I'd rather do than be a wild thing and all woman. And I'll admit it, I'm a little nervous too. Appreciative and nervous. Usually I try very hard to not look forward to anything, but thsi time I'm finding it hard not to. Such a simple thing.
My life is mostly really hard. Really hard. I try like hell to spin it positive, but people being nice to me make me weep. In a good way.
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I don't feel 50. I don't get carded anymore as I did into my 40s, but there are some who are surprised that I have children. I'm not as fit as I should be. There are aches and pains where there weren't before. And since I'm one of those "pain is a message' anit-meds girls, I feel it. I can get tipsy but not drunk since I'll just fall asleep first. That also means I can either drink more than a bit or fuck, but usually not both or I can really piss my partner off if I fall asleep during sex.
On the plus side, everyone thinks I can do anything. And I can probably figure most things out even if my mechanical skills aren't the best. And sex is way way better than it ever was. I can walk into a room and be respected from the get go because I know attitude is everything. And I'm the center of a family of incredible people.
But what I can't quite do is figure out how integrate somone else into what I've built or if I want to. And I'm not sure I can manage to fall in love. And I'm really uncertain how to date at this age. I've stuck with doing what adults do, sex, and dating has grown from there because sex is just about as important or more so than the dating part to me.
I don't think I can play a role like many of us can here, sub or dom or switch or whatever. I don't think I or anyone else is so easily defined. Fluidity and growth is my cornerstone and age doesn't usually correlate to that. But surely there are others out there who feel as I do?
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I kind of want a date while kind of not wanting one too. So heads up, I'm working my way through a bottle of vino blanco, so my vocab might sink to hs level. Could've gone to the sex party and flirted and said no incessantly. But really I started the day out on a run and I just want to relax with Greys Anatomy and cool new food. Whole Foods just opened up locally and although I'm a mostly healthy eater, I'm decidedly anit corporate and branding and business models seem all so contrived that they piss me off. I had the same problem when my kids were young. I remember saying back when I was a book buyer, no thanks to Disney as I don't support propriety products. What a snobby brat I can be. So as much as I want to be a vegetable and vege it sort of blows to not have that connection. Pletnty to do work wise and nothing I want to do, but man, I can see myself turning into this boring whole foods Friday night dinner singleton. I think I'm going to try a vanilla dating site again since my schedule will open up again in another month or so.
Back to Gray's Anatomy. No one is having sex the way they used to at hospitals anymore. Most doctors you don't want to have sex with anyway, though there are a few McDreamy's around. I steer clear. But what you do find is a team of very good, devoted people who see life as the gift it is and celebrate every moment they can. Because afterall they know how quickly things can change.
There is a high to being part of a surgery. It's like nothing else. When it works, there's a glow, a warmth that stays above your head for about a week. It's like a warm halo. And you smile at everyone and want to tell eveyone about the wonder but no one who isn't in the industry can understand. I''ve rarely been high in my life. But that will take you higher than anything. It, to me, is the deepest intimacy and a privledge to be part of. And it's god awful messy like your wouldn't beliive even with the cauterization. But it's as real as real gets. Visceral. Messy. And deeply meaningful to some. If only life could mirror that a bit. I WISH I could fall in love. I resist calling the intellectual vegan every day. I miss those conversation and I'd let the man paddle me for that these days.
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Freezing my a@@ off last night was good for my perspective. When heaven is a cup of hot cocoa and the fire, pleasure becomes really simple. I AM going to behave well. And I AM going to grit my teeth and keep engaging even though I'd much rather not. I'm tired and dispirited and I hurt physically. But not so much of a mental game anymore. One day at a time is more a few hours at a time, but so far it's working and I'm not being a banshee to those I care about. Tonight is another handoff. We will see how that goes, but ugh DREAD.
Meeting today. Lots of stroking egos. Mine too. All truthful. Though I know I'm annoying as hell sometimes since I don't go away. Dog with a bone. End result is I get results. It takes a toll though because I'm still deep down that fairytale loving girl who wants everyone to just be nice. And to do their job. And to be honest and honorable.
Honor. Honesty. Loyalty. Such old fashioned concepts. I'm a dinosaur in the world of polyamory and infidelity. But I think, and am trying to believe, there are a few other dinosaurs out there like me who want to celebrate and live with honor, truth, and loyalty before we become extinct. And fuck like rabbits...
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I am such a baby. Every awful name the father of my children called me these past few months is tatooed in my brain. I think it's because it's so shocking. This is the man who would never even engage with me before to have a discussion, let alone to solve an argument. I really need the worst of this divorce done. I am trying to behave well. But sometimes I've had to play hardball. I was forced to but still I guess I can see his viewpoint. I'm not any of the names he's called me. And I've never been actually hated before and it does not sit well on me.
It's not that there's even any lingering lovely stuff towards him. He had a lot to do with my patched up heart. But his loss was truly the biggest gain for me and I'll never go back. What I've achieved, the personal growth, the sense of possibility, and how my children and I grew into a team. To say nothing of finally experiencing orgasms. Smile. My sexual self has grown so far from the proper miss I always was. And my head and heart can absorb so many alternate ways of living and feeling and experiencing relationships.
I still have a moral compass. I still feel damn firmly against infidelity. It's part of a biigger concept of doing no harm. I don't want to hurt a soul. And knowing now that my ex feels pain (and it sounds like the kind of pain and fear his actions produced in me), doesn't bring that thought of "karma's a bitch, a@@hole." You'd think it would. But no, I just find this whole process hurts my soul and exhausting. But at the same time, I know I'm doing what I must. But oh, I just really want to go on, move on, live without these leftover in my life.
Spending a day outdoors like today, between baseball and watching the fishing at the lake, and taking a passel of hungry fishermen to lunch, was wholesome. I LIKE wholesome. To me that word isn't so much about Mayberry'esque living as it is about living in a way that makes me feel whole. And the whole of me includes my physical health, my social health, intellectual health, and that unexplainable soul deep satisfaction. My soul and sex are connected. I feel so deeply satisfied by the right connection there. And I have a lot of fun if the connection is less than ideal but still joyful. Goal this week is more sex and more laughter.
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Better start today. Early mornings are hopeful, even when the weather is looking more ominous than not. I'll confess I love rainouts. No one feels guilty staying home, making a proper breakfast, pots of tea and taking that time back. Unexpected leisure is a wonderful thing. Add my family home to the equation and it's a GOOD day.
I'm going to try hard to continue to behave well under duress. I know drama is a luxury. And I won't be the cause of any more stress if I can help it. Esp to my children. No fighting or defending my boundaries. Peacekeeping. Even if I have to swallow my ego. Isn't the secret in picking which fight is worth fighting? But damn I'm itching for a brawl. Better to keep quiet and not say a damned thing. I know. You win (though who cares about winning at this point) by lving better and happier without drama. And yeah, there's nothing quite so infuriating as non-response, is there?
I have an inner mantra running..."i'm a grown up..I'm a grown up...I'm a grown up.." when I want to throw an all out hissy fit. A night of outright screaming orgasms would serve...any offers?
Invited to a party last night. Part of me would have loved to go. Regular sex is another luxury I've missed. Well, at least this way I get to have fun, learn how to handle a bit more attention than my comfort level (always good to step outside one's comfort zone), and no one gets hurt by unrealistic expectations.
Rainy day fun? Letting the youngers inflate peeps in the microwave to gigantic proportions without exploding. Now that's risk!
When offered any dinner for her birthday, my girl asked for roast chicken, mashes and gravy and vege. Gotta love a girl who appreciates simple pleasures.
I dreamt last night of past love. Long long past. First date with the man who ended up a priest. We were driving to Oliver! as we passed a car with one headlight burnt out. He smiled, said "cyclops" and leaned over and kissed me. Brilliant. Apparently it's good luck to kiss the persone next to you when you see a cyclops, as it is under the mistletoe and don't forget about fondue. If you lose your bread, the cost is a kiss. Simple innocent pleasures. And talking about subjects that require my brain. Miss that. One day though I am convinced a conversation that starts with intelligent exchange of ideas is going to turn into one long romance. I know it's not time yet.
But patience is highly overrated.
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By and large a home run of a day. So I decided instead of asking for what I think I can get and making do, for once I'd try asking for what I really need/want. What's the worst that can happen? I thought well, just a no. Well hell...I didn't plan on vitriol. But that's what I got. And I hate it. I hate being hated. It shouldn't matter, but there's some vestige of the child/adolescent in me that cares. I start to sink from here, just after my daughter's birthday which is sheer joy. Next is an anniversary of a time in my life that I'm still ambivalent about. Then my own birthday. As much as I know better, I'll take stock and feel some angst. And I'll miss. And as much as I hate to admit it, I'll probably feel a little lonely. I'll work to counterbalance it and use up that negative energy in a good way.
But hell...I have some fighting to do about boundaries. I need to talk to my friends and see if the fight is worth the possible gain. Too close to it myself.
I wrote a long long journal that I didn't send last night about how things really are sometimes for me when it's hard. More about the constant minutiae that is predictably dysfunctional There's so much I can make better, but this just really needs to stop. Well I can control my reaction, but I still want to cry when someone calls me names. These are the times I miss and crave a protector and that warm shoulder more than I can express.
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Talking with friends I reached a realization. My life is really tough sometimes. And sometimes I get into that "why me?" mentality that I truly want to smack myself for. We all know sh*% happens. No rhyme. No reason. You're dealt what your dealt sometimes despite best efforts to live well and responsibly. But none of these are the realization. I realized that I am never bored. Never. And that in itself is a gift.
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Dear heavens, please go away polyamorous folks, bi women, "masters" looking for slaves, and anyone who wants me to void on them. Honestly people, ewwww....Of course I've been dark and stormy'ing so I'm tipsy as hell. But REALLY??? I just can't take sex or D/s or any of ths all that seriously. It's a basic human need, sex. I'm fully supportive of everyone's need to get and give it. But OMG, try to tell me what I'm going to do, how I'm going to do it, and who with...no, I don't think so. Does ANYONE actually have FUN with this stuff? I mean really I recall being blindfolded and arms suspened above my head and being happy as a clam sucking a few cocks. And giggling...Or heavens, fucking a few men (okay so maybe now and then it's more than a few) in a room filled with naughtiness while having everyone in stitches at the same time. Yes, more than once I had a man have to stop fucking because we were laughing too hard together. Really it should be fun! And fun is something few of us have enough of over the age of 40.
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Yessss....finally one Wednesday without a 5 am wake up call. I've lost my taste for solo dinners. I'm not sure why; I used to enjoy and think nothing of setting up to an upscale bar or a two top table for myself. I tip enough for two. But I like being home and able to partake in an adult beverage, though more often I don't and am happy with an iced green tea or a pot of oolong. Maybe I trace it back to the island prince who was astonished at my dining alone as a matter of course everywhere. Plus quiite frankly I'd rather watch something historical and not waste the wonderful bits in my fridge. For a woman so driven equally by appetite and duty, I'm essentially a practical sort brought up by a Gran who lived through the depression.
I'm starting to feel overcommitted again. I am of course as my children are. And my calendars weren't syncing so I had a mess to sort out. Best is to get done what I must and kick some ass while I'm doing it. I'm going to try.
Heavens the typos I make. Truly I can spell and have a decent syntax. But this damned font can't be made bigger on any of my usual mobile devices and I can't SEE.
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Heavens the typos I make. Truly I can spell and have a decent sytax. But this damned font can't be made bigger on any of my usual mobile devices and I can't SEE.
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I went from awed to finally relaxed to intensely horny. Though I said I'm not sure if I want to go to a party tonight, clearly I'm going since I'm smooth as silk everywhere and off for the luxury of a blow out at the fancy salon in town. They'll want to know who I'm seeing tonight but that's a mystery. The question is...am I sponteneous enough for multiple cocks tonight or do want to seduce and be seduced. I am CRAViNG verbal stimulation. I usually go in a bit too confident (total act; I'm not). I think if I'm more natural (at core I'm an introvert) perhaps a male or two will lead. I'd like to be lead now. And I'd like to whisper into a man's ear just enough to give him a chill to his testes. And I'd like a man to do the same to me; it'll make my nipples harden. The question is what out of my more practical than sexy wardrobe to wear. I feel very feminine today and quite quite needy. Not a comfortable sensation. And the need I have goes deeper than can be satisfied. So I what I can to gloss it over of find substitutes to temporarily slake it. But don't we all.
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Exhausted. Inspired. Awed. Instilled with purposefulness. Happy. Very very happy. Yesterday was one of the most significant experiences of my personal and professional llife. My heart and head feel wide open It truly defies words.
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I've been neglectful of my journal here because I've been journaling elsewhere. But I miss this forum. I do rather love the idea of a couple who can't always be together writing a paragraph or two of their thoughts each evening and sharing it with the other. It's rather a modern version of those old fashioned belle lettres I still love to read. Plus really, isn't that part of the appeal of D/s? You go deeper. But you can't manage that without trust. And we can't build trust without knowledge. If I ever take on a proper sub (mind you I'm still really a switchy kinkster than definitively one or the other extreme) I will ask for that. If I ever take on a sub role, I will ask for that. Hell, I think it's rather a lovely exercise for friends and lovers alike. Give each other your words. No judgement No worries about punctualtion or grammar. It's a gift and an indication of effort and trust
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Venus in Fur was useful. Interesting to watch a largely seamless push to feminize the man. The notion hold no appeal to me, but I can see the level of submission a puppy male can be taken to with it. She did at the end leave him tied up on stage and walk away, something many of us women have wanted to do at one time or another with a male. I can think of a pair of them right now I'd like to hear yell as I walked away from them bound and alone in an empty theater. Naughty thought, me. I'd never do anything of the sort, but a little thuddy flogging now and then would be a great deal of fun. I wouldn't mind taking a nibble or two. I like men who make noise. Actually I adore men who make noise. Especially when they come. Not easily found these days.
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I crave days when I am not a slave to anyone's schedule, when I or my family don't have to be anywhere. The days one can truly do as you want. This is one of them. I'll still do less indulgent pasttimes like work reading/study, laundry, and feed the crew. But my self-indulgence will be Venus in Fur I think. Now for those of us with a less literary bent, this is a Roman Polanski adaptation ot the 1870s book from Sacher-Machosh's books of the erotic enslavement of a man by a woman of the time. Sado-machism was coined from this author's name. Kink always existed, but until he memorialized it in words fot the first time it didn't have a name. Subtitles, as it's in French but for me, watching a woman take a man by surprise and begin to be entranced is a beautiful thing. I wish I could see that in a man's eyes myself, but my world tends to be filled with women. I've entranced a superior woman or two, but that's not the way I roll...it's been a time since I've seen the look that I am pure magic on a man's face and even longe since I've believed it.
Misty day, cats pleased their people are home, fresh eggs from the inland farm for breakfast made three ways, a sleep in for all, and my children's voices in the background all day. These are happy days. Now if I can just be productive enough to not feel bad for what I didn't do by the end of the day. My English connection, IDk...sigh well, best to not have expectations in this world however inevitable they are.
Be well all,
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Across the pond conversations are hard when schedules are 5 hours apart and each participant has a life. Yes, I would have enjoyed hearing the dulcet tones of the Brit but technical difficulties didn't make that happen. And my eveninngs are somewhat labor intensive so I can see this being an ongoing frustruation. Still a good day. I dragged through clearing the snow at 6AM, grateful at least the roads were clear and no shoveling our endless sidewalk. I really considered playing hooky as many people did today, but it was valuable to be there since next week is a huge deadline and there's a huge advantage in knowing what I've learned today. I'm not top notch these days. Every now and then I manage to do something perfect but most of the time just showing up is what it's all about. It's the simplest advice. As hard as it is, just showing up is 90% of raising kids, pleasing a partner, being a friend...even if you don't know what to do or think you said the wrong thing, most people just remember the fact that you were there. And hell, that's all I want too...someone who is just there for me.
I spent some time doing more exercises from my good karma divorce book. Got to the Betrayal chapter at last. That's my thing and many others. Most imporant lesson learned is that people who spend their energy on lying and can't stop that pattern, don't heal. No one can lie incessantly without feeling the increasing weight of those lies on them and the stories they have to maintain. It's got to be a terrible way to live. And I know my ex is still living it and repeating the same patterns. So too is another man who hurt me deeply.
I was always disbelieving and pissed of that they remained unscathed. At least it seemed that way. I wouldn't want to live with the knowledge of having caused someone that much pain. (Hell, the fact that I have to cause my ex who I don't even LIKE fear and pain makes me feel like a terrible person.) Somehow the realization that I would rather take it than deliver lies is freeing. Sure I get heartsick and hurt far too much for what feels like far too long. But liars and cheats keep living it. That's soul destroying. Can you imagine the energy that takes? I'm thinking there's a cost to that. Sociopaths can't not feel it. But neurotypical folks? I'm thinking it's agony. Like Sysiphis and his rock. Y'all know...the Greek legend of the man who is cursed to push a boulder to the top of a mountain. Only just before he gets there, it rolls back to the bottom of the mountain and he starts again. And again. Without end.
People with self destructive tendencies like my ex...well they have to live with themselves and try to contol or give in to those desires every day. Tough way to live. I used to think my desire for sex was a self-destructive tendency. Like anything that was to excess about me. And I'm a person who is completely at home with forays into excess. But now I think of my iindulgences as pretty normal. Sex is a simple need, a biological imperative. And hell,if two consenting adults (or more) want to mix it up a bit and get kinky, well good for them and cheers to creativity.
I've always grimaced to be called "nice," hoping a more exciting adjective would come my way and apply better. Currently my son has called me "badass" on occasion. Now that pleases me. But I'm starting to think nice isn't so bad and doesn't mean I'm such a chump. "Bloody gorgeous" was nice too. Never had that said before. It sticks with you, that.
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A day of pluses and a minus or two. I did get called "bloody gorgeous" by a Brit; that was a rather lovely moment. And I now know how to use Gen Y & Z's favorite, KIK. And even managed Skype. Though I'm still old school in that I prefer vis-a-vis up close and personal. So I learned something. I'd hoped for a new friendship or something-ship with a domly guy. If I don't spell correct, it comes up as a "dimly" guy...def not what I want. I suspect he's married, but then I suspect most are. I just prefer not to be told otherwise than truth.
We all know that sudden disappearance mid-conversation is a flag. Sometimes true, our batteries fail on one device but then to disappear for the rest of the day seems odd. I'm vulnerable, sad and a bit needy right now, but that doesn't make me stupid. Too bad, such a lovely voice and seemed a kind soul but one always wonders why. Now I'm naturally taken to helping where I can, but IDK most men are not natural nurturers. Hopefully there are exceptions out there as I'd like to find one. Still looking for a protector of sorts, but mostly one who doesn't disappear. But hell, it's the internet...we all know how it works. I'm watching too much Lie to Me I think and want my own personal mentor with an accent to hold my hand now and then.
Well if nothing else it encouraged me to get back to work as this is going to be a rough stressful week. My own fault for taking time off but I was sick (yes, better now) and needed to be less of everything to everyone. Still I did good even through a weepy weekend. Got myself out and ran all those endless errands of needing one thing from each of 7 stores so I don't have to think about it again. Easter baskets, check. Done except for finding a minecraft minifig or two. My girl's upcoming bday, wrapped up, party scheduled and pretties ready. Now to greet them soon and prepare a fish fest. Then tomorrow the hard part begins. Well my mind will be taxed so hard maybe I won't have the energy to be sad this week.
There will be better things ahead. I know this.
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Still lacking a bit of joy. Sort of hermitting away, resting when I can, and just trying to get well. I am behaving well and I haven't the energy to let my inner bad girl out to play. I really really hope that changes. I've taken the high road even though I feel deeply disrespected by my ex. I can control my emotion around everyone else, but leave me alone and I weep. I feel like a very many things that are happening to me now are deeply unfair. I expect them to change and have been working my ass off to get there. But this is a process that isn't quick so it's stay the course and hang tight.
I'm definitely not having enough sex. And it's been awhile since I've had that deep soul stirring sex I love. It's not making love that I'm talking about. It's that verbal and physical give-and-take that you feel both viscerally. I'm staying away from people who are bad for me. But darlings, there are so many out there who are bad for me! And so few who are good.
I realize now I had several pretty good chances at a relationship. Or just dating. Or just something nice. But I've had an edge lately. And a callousness these past few months. It's funny, I was at the optometrists this week for new glasses and my choice is something modern and edgy. I tried on something else and the ladies exclaimed how lovely and feminine the glasses looked. I smiled with a thank you and said "yes, but I don't want to be feminine. I want to be badass..." It's like how you have to stand up to the bully even though you're shaking inside. I don't think I look much of how I feel. Well except for this past Monday. Lots ot texts there. But then I was very ill that day.
I'm better I think. Always careful as I have a tendency towards pneumonia and that's a long recovery I can't take the time for right now.
I'm mad actually. And I'm trying to be a good sport. My ex took the children on a trip they very much wanted to do for this weekend. Yet I got all the work. Anytime he does anything I have to pack everything (the very worst part). I pack for trips I never get to take. And I lived for travel before. Someday please I'd like to have an opportunity to do what I love over what I must. And yeah, I'll admit it; I'm jealous he still gets his pleasures while I seem to get mostly the work. But it's not really that simple. I get joy too. I just let my grumpies get in the way.
Well I stayed home over the fucking party this evening to watch Lie to Me episodes, nosh on berries and bire and sausage and crackers. Oolong over alcohol and thinking about my Gran and how she'd cling to me and my babies when we'd visit and have to say goodbye. That's the way my children cling to me. And I try hard not to do the same.
I thought of how she lost her alcoholic but charming husband when he was just 46. And she with a 15 and a 13 year old at home. She did what she knew and excelled at, housekeeping, for one ot the most prominent families in my city. She raised her girls not without bumps...me being a very real bump a few years later as my mother had me at 17. But oh, she loved me. Gran adopted my mother and aunt as toddlers, so I was everyone's first baby. And as apalled as she was at her daughter's pregnancy and her embarrassment around the neighbors at that time, all three of them cared for me so well that first year of my life. I have no problem forming attachments as a result...the problem comes later when it's time to detatch. There's one man (not my ex) I still want of the 4 I've loved in my life. One night he held all night as I cried out my pain. He was the source of it. But he didn't run that night.
These are days that I'd do almost anything to have him hold me for an hour. He'd wipe the tears from fmy cheeks or let them just soak his shirt. And he'd hold me and kiss me and tell me how I've got this. To look at what I've done and still can do. And that I'm stronger than I know. And he'd tell me all I'd already done and what I'd done for him. And he'd tell me all sorts of wonderful things that for awhile I thought were just pretty lies. And then he'd fuck me and I'd bed him to pound every damn emotion out of me. To fuck me as hard and as deep as he could. To grab my throat and pull my hair. To bite my mipples and spank my ass. I'd beg him to fill me with every bit of his cum so it would run down my thighs all night.
And he would.
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So drudgy ole me...I feel l'm wading in mud, I still did what? Slept in after waking at 7 am to hugs and kisses from my progeny. Sorting out endless minutiae with insurances, legalities, scheduling, backing up everything I say with evidence. Got a bicycle repaired. Had son's braces repaired. More scheduling. Prepped and studied with several students. First aid. Finally figured out how to do modern brows with powder instead of pencil. 2 loads of dishes, 5 loads of laundry, endless folding while watching non-work related escapist stuff on Netflix...Managed to prepare a dinner of a pasta bar and a few pies for dessert. I didn't make 'em but somebody else did fresh. Too sweet for me and lard crust where I prefer butter but a happy family all the same. There it is...the happy family part..I may be wading thru mud but I'm still keeping my loves happy and safe and stimulated and not in the middle of the mini war of the roses I am in. So that's a good day even if what I feel is rather wounded. It's affecting my mood, but I'm not letting this bullshit get in the way of living even if I really should be working harder. Today is still progress.
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I think I'm getting better, but then all of a sudden I'm wiped out. I'm grateful for those friends who reached out. And that my children are truly the best people I've ever met. Such a privledge to be their parent. They took the time before school today after a night at their dad's swanky new digs to come over and wake me with kisses and hugs and to just check on me. I may need/want more support from those adults in my life who are supposed to care but at least I know they will never have the doubts I do about a grownup being there for them. I think they will always know they are loved completely and will be present for each other when I am not there. These are good gifts and I need to remember the good.
I had a sad sad night last night. I'm a bit embarassed by my self consciousness and neediness these days. And quite frankly I find I'm feeling lesser because in the online world fo dating I'm not meeting anyone. Not all that unusual I know, but I equate it like going to my local grocery store. All those endless items on shelf after shelf, not unlike the rows and rows of profile pics to choose from. And you have gobs of shoppers just pusihing their carts by without a glance. Maybe the label isn't eye catching enough, or it looks like it's been on the shelf too long, or something else simply looks better. It shouldn't matter, but my shell is not as tough and instead of rolling off my back like water it sinks in a bit and makes me uncomfortable.
Now I get at my age, 50, many guys are looking for fun and winding down. I've a family of almost teens which in the past would have had me veering off from dating a guy with the same. I'm not thin or athletic. Though really if someone is not an athlete I wouldn't describe many people as "athletic." I'm not obese either but there are enough wobbly bits to make me feel a twinge each time I undress in front of a new partner. And my life is not winding down: it's gearing up for the most frightening thing of all...change. Big change. And really I'm a PITA, although sex with me is usually really good. But what I give, I give to my children. Oh I'm invariably kind to anyone I date, but I think of it as "dating" not a relationship. And yeah, I approach it that way because I'm scared of betrayal. It sucks that the ones that stay with you are those that didn't end well. Closure and all that.
Who doesn't have abandonment issues? But I think mine have formed some defensive behaviors that in crisis make me just hide. I want a lot. I crave a lot. And I am struggling my ass off. But what I really need is to cry in my friends arms for once and be a god awful mess and have someone hug me ad tell me it will get better. I know it will get better. But I'm just plain heart sore right now.
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I pulled a superwoman cloak out of my pocket today and muddled through. I've no idea how. Finally hit my bed now at a quarter to ten with cold wind blowing drafts in my old house that I didn't know we had. Thank heavens I was too lazy to take the electric blanket off my bed since enveloping warmth feels so good I just might cry. It's the good stuff that makes me cry more, the unexpected. I could do with more pleasant surprises.
I'm still ill and this morning's meeting had a few people worried if I could pull it off. I did, though fanning mysef through most of it and probably flushed. They probably put it down to hot flashes over the flu. I stayed decidedly separate and kept the lower half of my face behind my paperwork so hopefully no one else gets ill though today i head two cohorts tells me their kids have what sounds like the same symptoms.
I help my children a lot. Growing up I never had help with homework or such, mostly because Gran had a no more than an 8th grade education and my mother didn't finish high school. Thank heavens for the internet. I managed to learn slope interception form to help my freshman with Algebra. And I'm smiling because I don't know how I did it. Not a math chick. But he needed help and his brilliant sister hasn't gotten to it yet, so when in doubt, go online. But honestly it was HARD. 48 problems and 6 hours later, we got it done. And my boy has learned just how hard procrastination is. He's on the spectrum so I don't know how he managed the wherewithall to stay on task and work with me. But he did. And I did. And I'm incredibly proud of him. And so strange, but it takes math to surprise myself. I didn't know I had it in me.
It makes me wonder what else I have in me to do something positive. I've thought of re-approaching the Vegan intellectual again. He was a man who I think could love me and I could bask in it, although I could never quite relax with him. And if I'd let myself maybe I could've had something different with him. He was kinky; a spanker. It was intriguing. And into alternative spiritual practices. I'm not adverse to yoga, reiki, or so on. I'll try it all. Okay the no meat thing was a hump. The butterflied leg of lamb I made for dinner tonight would not amuse him. But oh, he was professorial and artsy and kind of hot. Still I never did find out if the sex would live up to the build up. But there was something really wonderful about the way he looked at me. And I'd begun to doubt I'd ever see someone look at me entranced ever again. I'd very much like to entrance someone I crave myself.
Instead I keep plugging on in my life (which is really low on the fun meter). But I do what I must and my family is happy. And that's huge. But I'm not quite sure I am. When I'm with my children, yes. But I'm aware you can't build a life around your chicks who are going to fly the nest. And I'm trying. Intellectually I'm probably more challenged than ever before. But I want that shoulder to lay my head on. I don't think I've eanred it or necesarily deserve it or even have to give what a man in my life would need. But I still want.
My famous anxiety producing court date this week has been post poned another month. I needed to do this. But it's another month of uncertainty and wory. I know, I should be able to handle is as I've done. But I'm jsut getting so tired. Sick. Tired. Sad. Those are not words I want anyone to use referring to me. I'm not quite sure what to do next except keep on keeping on. Just so weary.
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Still quite ill. And the problem with resting during the day is not being able to sleep when I should. Like now. I'll put in whatever appearance I must tomorrow then go home right after the meeting. I'm going to look and sound like death warmed over but at least no one will doubt my commitment.
So what's a woman to do on a sleepless night? I chosed to succumb to sappy movies that make me want to believe in things that feel all in the past. I'm actually missing the lovely men I said no to...especially that beautiful caramel island prince and the gentle Vegan intellectual. I never saw either as working out. But I wonder now if I really know.
Honestly I don't know how people manage to fit into each other's more mature and more complicated as a result lives. I expect you have to give. And I don't give much though others have called me a five star giver since I take care of people and I fix things and get them through. But to me that's not giving. It's a need. Pain and loss have to have meaning to me and the only meaning I've found is in the way it helps others through. There always has to be a reason for me.
But I also recognize the transformative power of both pain and loss. That one door closing, another opening dichotomy. I think I'm a different person from who I was. I'm certainly more grateful. I've little doubt I'm capable. And maybe I had to do without and feel the need for someone who would protect and support me, even though it's an incredibly hard admission.
Maybe I say no because I'm looking for a type. The men I've fallen in love with in my life were all incredibly capable in their areas of expertise. And most would pull out a dramatic gesture that would absolutely sweep me off my feet even though my alarm bells and everyone would tell me to be careful, slow down. I've loved 4 men like that in my life and that's more than most get. And each loved me enough to give me everything they had emotionally and sexually for a time.
Truly I felt each one was out of my league except for the last. And funnily enough they felt that way about me. Gran did teach me well and I've always had manners. I suppose I had education and culture enough. I could teach others to enjoy things they never thought they could...art for a military man, nature for an architect, sensual pleasures for the Anglican priest, and honest expression for the actor. But the one thing I never had until now was the trust in my own instincts. Unfortunately those instincts of mine tell me to walk away more often than stay.
I think relationships require a suspension of disbelief to take off. And I can't quite get there. Faith eludes me. And you gotta have faith. I really need something other than myself to believe in. I'm agnostic, so It's unlikely to be chuch. My sister's wicca life is not for me. I flirt with various new agey practices but it's all in fun, even if I do find it relaxing and healing short term.
You know what I do believe in? Touch. Like I'll know when I touch the right man that's he's for me. Hopefully he will know the same of me. But I haven't touched anyone like that...you know what it is if you've felt it...it's like a reverberation soul-deep. No to even feel a kiss like that....I'd give a lot to get there.
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I'm still too ill to be even remotely productive and haven't prepared for a meeting I must do tomorrow morning, sick or not. I'm trying hard to be nice, but I'd do almost anything for a mommy to take care of me right now. Or perhaps a daddy dom, but nearly all I've meet who identify as such are married. Well wishes are nice and kind but chicken soup that someone warmed on the stove for me would be about as close to heaven as I can get right now. Please let me get well and stop being teary since it just makes me feel worse. I have to find the wherewithall to make it to the grocery store soon but even my shower exhausted me. Still if I can type, I can manage to shop for enough to feed my brood. I want nothing but tea a toast, and more tea than anything. And oh fuck, court this week. Well could be worse. Plumbing works. Have heat. Power. Enough money for food and a car to get me there. And darling darling children. I have to remember to be grateful instead of a miserable lump.
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Okay so maybe the 35 bucks I spent on the vanilla dating site was a waste of money but at least it's an eye opening reminder of how far dating has come from meeting someone as part of your daily life to scanning through a shopping list of them online. I don't really like it much except there's just a little bit of hopeful in me that perhaps a connection will happen. I did meet my first date post ex on this site and we dated about a year. It was the first time I'd ever dated anyone for a length of time without falling in love with him and disturbed me a bit. I thought at the time that my heart was truly broken and just didn't work anymore, though I enjoyed the sex, our forays to beautiful wild places, and the amazing game nights we'd have playing Acquire.
Since then I've dated other men I couldn't fall in love with. After about a year I would give it up. As nice as companionship is, I was never quite willing to do without love. I really don't know if I'm capable of it anymore with a new man. I'm so pragmatic these days and admittedly a little cautious. Always looking to see what someone's angle is. We all want something from a relationship, but my instincts are perhaps too well honed now. I know I'm not ready but I'd love to find connection with a wonderful man. I watch and read about loves of one's life. And I used to believe in fairy tales. Without that belief I wouldn't be where I am now. But I'd been rather sheltered before. Now there's no one to shelter me and really I can't go back to that level of ignorance. The hard part is how still be smart but have faith and love. Now I have goals. Then I had dreams. I haven't gotten to dreams again. Not yet.
I'm ill this weekend, actually. I finally had some time and I'm sick. Ears, head, throat, fever. And so cold I can't manage to control my body temp. My children are being wonderful and I walked them through cooking a simple dinner this evening and their first time loading the dishwashwer other than utensils. Kind souls they are: I just don't want to make them sick. So I've taken myself up to the big chair in my bedroom and tucked in, hoping I can sleep soon and tomorrow will be better. There are worse things...at least it's a week I can afford to be ill. Better times are ahead.
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Heavens I'm craving pillowtalk, those naughty whispers in the midst of fucking and then post conversation when you are lying there together boneless and withoutt artifice. Non judgemental, stripped to essentials, and sated...but why is it so hard to find?
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The site has been so slow that I've lost far too many entries lately to my chagrin. Still neverr give up. Darling Dom was the bestest friend yesterday. I've a litigous time ahead and it hurs. IDK why. I thought it was because I feel like a bad person bringing this level of stress into my ex''s life. But really he began this and I'm doing nothing more than I must. I don't hate him. I don't wish him ill. I don't want to take him for all he's worth. I just want the guy to show up when he's supposed to for the children and cover the financials agreed upon in a timely manner. Well...and provide a secure consistent home for the children when he has them. The children are now calling his new old gf "Valldemort" after the Harry Potter villian. Oh dear, oh dear. Still sending them out to the garage to watch television because she wanted to listen to music in the lving room is a bit much for anyone in March. Crazy doings. And my girl is turning mean. Now I know she's fighting for her and her siblings rights, but ugh...a 12 yr old should not be fighting battles with grownups other than her parents. Perhaps I should be grateful I look like her heroine but I just wish the ex would find a nice woman even though it would kill me to have my children fond of another mommy. Better than thsi. And I can only wish for all good things for them.
Darling Dom was a truly good friend to me. He is one of thsoe few action over words men left in the world and oh, I'm so grateful. Lunch, drinks while we scoped out a local kinky group before deciding no thanks and heading to a wonderful dungeon-like industrial space eatery nearby. I love new expeiences and I truly needed on. Of course Darling Dom was itching for a bit of a catty standoff and I was itching for a bit of a fight myself with a past nemesis, but none of that. Far better to drink a little and be merry a lot. But really, I am so so greatful. These are the days I need a little handholding and kindess.
An amazing day really today. Professionally it was a day of firsts too. And I was exposed to an area of practice that really fills me with awe. There's something inspiring about seeing the beginning, the inception, of something great. WE don't often get that opportunity when we are in midlife. To feel awe again inspires me to find more opportunites for wonder.
I joined a vanilla dating stie again. Paid of course since I want someone who's willing to put his money where his mouth is. My experience on the free sites weren't untimately encouraging. This may be the same, but it was time to try.
I'm lssing me taste for sex without conneciton. Verbal sex is an incredible turn on to me. And I want a guy who is the same. I want to whisper naughties that encourage him to pump for all he's worth because my voice has pushed him over the edge. And I really really want to hear a man grown loud and deep as I make him cum so hard that he can't help himself.
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Isn't is so often so that the grass seems greener? Maybe it's the human condition that we are never satisfied with the staus quo. Especially when it comes to our relationships with whichever sex we prefer. I attended another party this weekend and took the time to indulge in all those little luxuries women love to primp and preen. I even unpacked the sexiest boots I own. They've been tucked away for years with all the other beautiful shoes I couldn't wear when dating a not tall man who preferred me to at least appear more delicate than I am.
I'm told I saved the party, arriving when I did by my hosts. And I'm comfortable enough with my hosts these days. But there was one man who sort of interfered with my mojo. Too aggressive. Didn't smell unhygenic but rather just odd. And kept tossing his cock my way. Now I'm generally fond of cocks, as you all know. But this time I just found the whole thing tawdry. It is of course, it's the nature of a sex party. But sometimes it's easier to suspend that view when you approach it more as fun, natural and a simple indulgence of libido.
I said endless no's. Before finding a connection with one lovely hot emo guy. There's something about fucking face-to-face, and yes even kissing. But for me it's the whispering. When I can whisper to a man how he fills me, how amazing his cock feels, how I want him as deep and hard as he can go...and it strikes a cord in him...well, now that's a beautiful thing. Because really some guys hate that and it's a turn off, they just want to shurt me up and fuck. Now and then that can be an appealing foray into D/s to be taken in hand if the rest of it is good. But when there is that connection...it's so much more beautiful. I get off on him getting off and if he experiences the same dynamic...then sex for that moment in time is transcendent.
The damn crux of it is that it's a wake up call for qualtiy over quantity. Sigh. Quantity and disengagement seemed just the thing to get me through. I may just have to try dating again and dating is hard. Expectation. Same people on all those sites. Sorting through the attached. Let alone dealing with schedules. IDK. I may attend one more party to see if I can reclaim the mojo. I may just have to flirt more and stop looking at men collectively at these things as a row of cocks and TALK to individuals.
Otherwise a good if not terribly productive weekend. Especially an unexpected night at the globetrotter with my children. Ever since I saw the Scooby Doo episode when I was a child, I wanted to see them. It took decades, but really what a lovely time laughing along with my children and being as silly as I've ever been in public. I need to step out of the familiar more often and find laughter.
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Playing hooky today. I showed up, made sure my face was seen, attended a panel discussion then scooted out to my car and headed to a little out of the way town for beauty, brunch, and tea. I've been away from my children for two nights and I don't like it much, especially since they will be with their father this weekend.
Yes I took advantage of the time doing my fav activity. But that's the rub. I've been fortunate enough to experience stellar sex more often enough to well...know better. I'm not absolving myself of responsibility as a full participant. And I do my best. I'm told my best is pretty damn good despite a few wobbly bits and lines framing my eyes.
But sigh, I am increasingly reminded of what married sex was like for me. Perhaps it comes from considering men who are younger than I. I really adore men in their 50s who still have intact libidos. Their skill and confidence and conversation...and simple manners and mutual respect make it flow easy and natural. And blessedly they last. I miss that. But most I meet want to date.
I've been so closed to a regular date as much as I miss a dinner companion. It seems fraught and filled with expectations it seems inevitable I will disappoint. But I'm considering it. I Think I'm coming across too brash again, hard edged and inflexible. I need to work on that.
But for now I'm going to take a few hours hiatus and breathe.
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I'm staying up later than I should because I'm lonely and not entirely at home with my own company this evening. Or simpler, I'm really really horny. And it would've been a great night to fuck. But I also wanted my head on a male I trust's chest, his arms around me, his voice echoing through his ribcage with my ear pressed to his skin. I wanted a story told to me or just talking, just that deep rich male voice to fall asleep to...rude or not of me. I almost did it. Trolled around CW's business to say hello and to see his new cock. Literally folks, a rooster for his lonely red hen. Of course endless cock jokes ensued and I suggested a conversation. But it rapidly became clear to both of us I think how difficult our respective egos are and how at odds two personality types can be. Better not, but I'm still in need of serious fucking. Mistake averted.
A few weeks back I wrote a letter to the universe. Sort of a healing thing, reading a book called the Good Karma Divorce. Mostly because I despise the process. And the adversaries it makes of people who were once partners. My letter was the first time I wrote out all of my fears. And really what I want to manifest (except for the "great deal of money") is not out-of-hand. Perhaps one day I'll post it but it is so deeply intimate and bare that I'm not quite that brave yet.
I had breakfast today with someone who loves me, one of the best men in the world. He's 96 and a tiny lovely man, charming, Quaker sensibilities, and he was taught by his adopted family to give when he can give and pay it forward. I try to follow his example. When I'm at my worst and saddest I do something to make someone else happy. Negative energy and blue funks should be used for positive. Another friend joined us. The woman who saw me through my initial separation and broken heart a decade ago. We are not very close any more. She is younger and my marital issues lasted past tolerance for many of my friends support. And really, I know I am a reminder of how wrong partnerships can go. The course of my marriage's demise is what all women fear. And changing course later in life with children is not for the faint of heart. The fact that as a family we are remarkably happy isn't something she realizes. And despite the fear, there is freedom and possibility at a time when it isn't expected. That itself is a gift.
Waxing philosophical or not, I still wish I was doing endless naughty things right now. It has been forever since I've had a screaming O. And I would adore a partner I'd make yell his own and scare the damn neighbors. But I'm a good girl and I helped people today, so even if I'm lonely tonight, all told it's been a good day. And I'm going to keep doing it because somehow it makes all the bs nonsense just that...nonsense. Necessary. But nonsense.
Be well folks and have a good old screaming o for me tonight.
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Breathing room, thank heavens. Tomorrow is soon enough to get to the more mentally demanding parts of my life. I confess I find myself falling asleep wishing the pillow I tuck into lengthways was someone strong, warm, and very male. I don't think the desire is so much physical as it is the need to feel protected. Strong arms, sleeping on a warm chest, and feeling safe. It's more what a child feels in a parent's arms. Or those very few really good daddy Doms. It's been a long time since I could let go and have anyone make something better for me, if ever.
And then there's the appeal of fucking someone I'm genuinely fond of and comfortable enough to tuck in without hearing how like a koala bear I was the next morning. Hmmm...actually I rememberr a time when I didn't drive the GSP because I was afraid of it, and a time I would never have considered using a power tool, and I would have never done half the things I do now. It's better of course now, but I miss having a parent or even a lover that my inner little girl could cling to for just a little bit.
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Dear heavens, I read my last post, typos and all. When you use a mobile device with this site you can barely see the font as you type so perhaps I read poorly but so be it. I sound like such a sad bitter closed soul. I am and I'm not. Right now I need to just keep quiet and hang on for the ride. But damn it, I want my exuberance back. My primary emotion these days is just an essential sadness. I still do more than my share. I still help those I can. And I remain polite and kind. But OMG I'm sad. I work. I cry. And I take care of my children. And a time or two a month I fuck like a banshee and forget everything and smile for an entire day long. It's a beautiful day and I've made sure my boys are out in and fishing the day long. Errands and work for me but it will allow me time this week to have the leisure I need so much. I've got to get my sweet ass out and target shoot again...my little joy.
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It's rare I revist my past when food was art, but tonight my family deserved a bit of fun. Ravioli feast...heart shaped red and white, orange pepper striped asparagus and gruyere, green flecked basil and goat cheese (a male fav), and my fav beet, roasted squash a goat cheese purple and white packets of delish. A basic marinara with a splash of that Humble Pie cabernet I love so much...and smile galore at the beauty of a little fancy food. SO MUCH FUN. And I worked til 9 pm to barely make a deadline first so it was even more glorious to get together after I chased everyone out of the corner of the parlor I use for my work. My own fault as I've been proscrastinating. Hulu has been entertaining me with Lucifer...now if only I could punish the guilty...of course I'd only feel bad about it, deserved or not. But to know someone's heart's desire woudl be a beautiful power indeed. Of course I'm likely to take on the duty of making it happen since that is what I seem to do.
I was thinking today of the romantic things people do...holding hands, long slow kisses...all that soft sweetness...and thinking how adverse to such things I am these days. I pissed off the island prince by attending a party and not telling him I was going. I met him twice a few months ago now and texted a bit. He assumed almost from the get go that we would be ideal for each other. Now I felt his cock was the ideal part and the fact that he had a strong work etthic appealed. But I've gotten "I miss you" texts since and more about how perfect we are for each other...sign...IDK, I'm not a woman who falls easily anymore. I don't fall for flowery words and I don't fall desperately in love. The key is I don't want to. I want a warm, caring, supportive friendship and kickass great sex. To me now, that few months' infatuation of years past is silly. It's not of course. It's the best, but I haven't felt that forever. Even with cuck it tooks months and months. He said love far before me and I didn't love him, but I hadn't expected love then and couldn't say no. I have the same lack of expectation now, but even more so my primary goal is to not feel trapped. It takes too long and caused too much pain to extricate myself from relationships and I don't want to lie to spare feelings these days. I want to just be real and say it. But heavens, people are filled with expectations from the get go...
And y'all know what pisses me off? Cheating. And I go to these swingers parties and meet men I find out are married (most of whom are swinging with out their wives' knowledge...it's called "cheating!"). It's fine if it's consensual; there are open marriages out there. I could never do it, but hell it's a sex party. But I wish they had a bracelet on (rings are off) or maybe if they shone green in UV light...LOL...I rather not.
Single. Free. Kinky. Repectful. Local. And most of all a friend. Mature and able to communicate honestly whether you think I want to hear it or not. Of course add to that a nice thick cock and my chances are one in 200 or so. Still I'm an optmist and keeping my fingers crossed...he will come across my path one day and I'll do a double take and feel my heart leap.
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Just a little bit of time to breathe and spending it with those I am happiest with restores me. But restoration brings my libido roaring to life. Selfish spoiled girl after multiple cocks...one cock has lost it's appeal. I find myself craving that attention of many. Funny that since I've never thought myself an exhibitionisht. But I'm going to have to conceed there's an element to that within me. My breasts ache, but when I close my eyes and dream, it's of two mouths. Then hands pulling my cllothes from me. Still more mouths on my puss and endless cocks. I wonder how many I could possibly take...Smile, maybe I'll find out...
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Kudos to CW for giving me this rather wonderful electric blanket. A cold, windy, rainy night alone and endless paperwork while the temps dropped downstairs. I'd made a cup of tea to warm up, but was so near the end of one project that I forgot all about it. When I finally looked up, my big Tom cat was tucked into the fur throw and I was ice cold. I've broken my own rule and let one of the cats into my bedroom. She has been an exceptional comfort as I've wept through too many weeks past. But it's better, some resolution. And I know I have to be a bitch of the highest order and take this course as much as I depise the necessity. I want to be good and nice and naughty in the ways that just bring mutual pleasure not real torture (well unless he really needed it....)
I'm exhausted but I'm rather proud of the results. I do good work. I need to find a new outlet for positive activites. There's too much destruction in my life at present. I know you have to clear away the rubble before you rebuild but really there's got to be more cheer out there for me than all this nonsense. My friends are all trying to keep me visualizing the party I'm having when this is all over...mojitos, ropa viejo, and shaking our booties with some devastating Latin men. Did I mention I met one a the last party who I simply wanted even though I said no. Older, in glorious shape, kissed my hand, and yum....I could have enjoyed him thoroughly. Y'all have seen those "the most interesting man in the world" commericals....think that guy but silvery'er hair and his attention all on me. I didn't succumb. Next time though...oh next time I'm going to partake of a great deal of cock.
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Well, I can barely believe it but I went to a sex party last night and I didn't fuck a soul. And I still had fun! Perhaps there's something to this voyeur thing. I found it fascinating to watch the men watch the women they were hoping to have a chance to fuck. I did fondle a few cocks. There is still something so enticing about that hard/soft dichotomy to a cock. And I do love them all. Differences are to be celebrated.
I'll admit it. There's a power to saying no to a man who wants to fuck you. Women use it all the time. I, rarely...as I'd almost always rather be fucking than not. But women rarely say a plain old direct "no." It's a "not right now," "it's not the right time," "I'm not feeling well," "I don't think we're there yet," and so on. It builds hope and expectation even if they've no intention of ever fucking a guy. I'm of the mindset be kind and say what you mean. A matter of fact, "I'm sorry, no." is a grown up thing to do. And to my way of thinking, the right thing.
I really enjoy the social aspect of openly sexual people. And when I can joke and talk and caress and flirt all at the same time, it's a good thing.
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Wow. I feel human again. And I might just wanna fuck.
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I still weep, but not as much. I find myself wishing I was still the young woman who married her handsome prince and believed in fairy tales. I don't know if I can ever suspend disbelief enough to go back to that level of romance when all things were possible.
I do know I dont' feel as bad about taking the actions I must, hard as they may be.
My crystal cleansing sesion had me realizing it was my stress that was holding me together. Without it I haven't the necessary tension to hold myself in check. At least I didn't at first. A little publicly teary. Hate that. But now I'm a bit more relaxed about it and going back for a few more modalities tomorrow as a rare treat. I love that stuff. Astrology readings and all that. Not sure why...maybe I still want to believe in a little magic or maybe it's the influence of my wicca sister who continues to try to do her own brand of good. We are so different outwardly. Then we meet after years apart and finish each other's sentences. I need to reconnect with her soon. She does love me if from a distance. And she is the only one who understands our history.
I'm being literally starved out now. All support cut off. I prepared for this. So it could be worse. And don't woory, we won't starve. But this next skirmish is going to have a bite to it. I can't feel a need for fucking yet. We'll see if the week goes better. I made it my misson to use all this negative energy to get some really dreadful things done. And I did. And I did it well. More to go. Providing the curse doesn't show up, maybe I will just fuck out all my frustrations.
I will say this....new agey or not, my heart feels more open. And my chest is actually less tight. Still more ahead to do this weekend than might be achievable but I'm ready to take my own power back and make some of my own magic. I've had enough of this ongoing bs. So if it takes a fight to fix it, fight I will. But it's gonna hurt. I really do better at loving than fighting.
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Well I'm trying different complimentary therapies for that karmic kick me sign that's been sticking it to me. Today was guided relaxation and chakra crystals. I always respond well to energy healing though I view it with a grain of salt. But truly I'll try anything twice. And this was lovely. Only the psychic who I talked to on the way out mentioned my grandmother and her red birds. I can't even say she's gone still without crying. You keep going but some grief is forever.
But my children are well. Dinner is real caesar salad and chicken; as simple as it is, the whole downstars smells like a home should. And my children are happy. My liibido is still absent, but I've celebrated a little v-day raunchiness with my co-hort. They're getting all sorts of tasteless but VERY funny texts from their significant others. Think chocolate and a rabbit vibrator. Or pics of other rather unattractive women with huge knockers. I've got three loved ones but not a beau....so it's hearts and chocolate to wake up to for them. Unromantic analytical me...well, I'll be happy to not have to sit through a prix fixe dinner and watch servers go nuts trying to keep everyone with great expectations happy.
However, next weekend might be decided different if I decide to be a naughty girl again. For some reason though I don't feel quite as brave as I usually am. Well perhaps that libido witll come raging back...I've been craving the vegan for his sweetness and intellect. Are women the only ones who dwell on roads not travelled?
We all know there's a reason for not travelling that, now don't we?
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Well maybe more foolish. I had a long text conversaion with cuck tonight. And actually it helped. He knows more than I realized about the background of my situation. And he's been through similar. But in the conversation I said something that's the crux of it for me. I feel bad for him. And I feel awful that I am a part of something that's just not nice. I don't want to hurt anyone. And I don't want to be a party to something so negative.
But I am. And I have to be. Yes, anyone could've seen this coming. And yes, it didn't have to come to this. And yes, it got here through his actions. So much could have been avoided. But cuck knows all this. And it helped. Of course plenty of cucky sex bs too...most of which I would likely dive into at a weak moment. But he's no longer close and that's a blessing for now.
I loved that man. But he made me very very unhappy. I think I'll stick to people who make me happy these days.
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Am I brave or am I foolish? I could've had dinner with CW tonight. I could have had a date on the weekend past. And I want it, but I stop just short. Maybe I'm just taking everything far too seriously. But I can't see anything working out with those I've met. But then I can't see anything working out with anyone afterall. I'd rather be free to work, be with my family, and my current sin, BBC on Netflix when I should be more productive. I'm exhausted. And I hurt. And I'm afraid of going to court again and again which is the way this is playing. Being judged is part of my life these days and although I think I'm doing a pretty good job as a parent and professionally, it's never comfortable to be judged. I am about as uncomfortable as I can get with legal issues and such. I don't feel like me, being part of something so adversarial. It's soul-destroying stuff really. And I know you have break apart all you've built and divide it up. But really? I can't keep doing broken. It's just makes me feel damaged by proximity. You know like a bomb going off and anyone in proximity gets some part of them destroyed.
I want positivity. I want joy. I want things to work instead of break. And I want to feel safe and know I can keep my children the same. That's why I suppose I'm not persuing anything else. I have to take care of us/me before there will be anything of me for anyone else. My libido has fled, though it occasionally kicks up. I asked for thick cock and it's there if I just take it. But contrary me, I won't. I'm not sure if I'm punishing myself for my role in the divorce, necessary or not. Or perhaps I'm just awfully sick of the mechanics of breaking apart.
I've never had anyone talk to me the way my ex has at too many opportunities. Ever. Never had certain words used. And it's like they're seared on my brain. No, I didn't deserve his excess anger. And his world is a house of cards that is threatened. So I understand. But this is a man who could barely talk to me when he was angry, who didn't engage. And now he's like...well, no one has ever been.
Well I live for my children now. And they are happy and brilliant and kind and no one could ask for a better center. But I'm their center and I need to pull it togeher. Far far too many tears. And I don't like weepy women. Well I don't like this woman weepy, lets just say that. I guess that's my steam valve; I leak tears...writing, driving, thinking, an unguarded moment, in the ladies, It's allergies...I'll keep up that and take care of what and who I will.
Send me a few karmic hugs foks; you'll get them back in time.
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A good day. Work done. Both brain work and handy work. Preparing a little magic I've hidden away for the children next weekend. And a wonderful evening with my dear friend, Darling Dom. Curry dinner and pots and pots of tea. Conversation and techie talk and even more talk about things others might find burdensome but we don't even think about. Our respective histories and those in the past who should stay there. Trials of the present. Health. Music. Tea. Culture. And just the freedom of not having to filter. And oh, the most wonderful Downton Abbey presents.
I talk of how I don't want to become so set in my ways as I age. And how it happens anyway as one gets to know what you want and like. The peace of sleeping in my own bed alone instead of a strange one or having to share my precious space. My decision to avoid entanglements knowing I'm only going to make a man unhappy since I have little to give at present. The vegan taught me that. I hurt a man I really really liked, knowing he was not the guy for me from the get go. But conversation and attention and the promise of kink turned my head. I still miss and regret that even though I know a relationship with him would not have made me happy. CW and how I really must stop any wine motivated texting. And heaven forbid cuck. Guru will be miffed if he doesn't see himself mentioned as well. Such offers of pleasure are appreciated, but I've too much work to do. Same as always and that's why I won't do a relationship at present; I will only make a man unhappy. And I haven't even time for a roll in the hay. Or to do the laundry post.
I talked to darling dom to get a male perpective. He agrees men tend to want more relationships as they get older, largely of the instant kind. Whereas women tend to want less. We've taken care of everyone for a few decades and are simply tired. Marriage isn't nearly as beneficial to a woman as it is to a man. We women end up taking care of the drugery and family obligations, schedule and trying to control our guy to show up or do one chore or another. We go from filrty, free, happy birds to canaries in guilded cages. We're taken care of but we end up living our lives within very narrow confines. And it makes us unhappy and controlling. Which makes our partner distant and feeling unappreciated. I dont' see a win to it. Not now. Though please, those of you happily married to each other, do show me the light. I don't know anyone happily married anymore.
Darling Dom is convinced it takes two people with established lives and established homes of their own for a balance. You enjoy each other but can return to one's own space, ways, and home. Something that seeks to not control, or to have someone to take care of you, but simply pure enjoyment and affection and support. It's not pure sex. It's conversation, sharing concerns and joys, dating, maybe the theatre or a road trip or two, but ultimately always having one's own space to retire to. You can meet for breakfast the next day, but there's no waking up and expectation of such. And no need to constantly negotiate who does what and when.
I'm lonely sometimes for sure. But I'd rather that than to give someone else unrealistic expectations of me. I really don't want any expectations of me from a guy. My family yes, Myself, yes. My friends, yes. But not anyone I date. Expectations are best checked at the door.
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Well it seems like the hardest part of my week is done, but who knows what will get thrown at me tomorrow. I've had my bully file a motion, so I expect fall out. Honestly, I can't take people calling me the most awful names. I'm actually NOT a bitch. Though most ex's argue that. In this case all I want is a father to show up when he says he will and pay a regular amount towards support each month. Other than that he can fuck who he wants and do what he wants; I want to take care of my children and move on with my life. Drama doesn't work for me anymore, though there was a time it did. I think it's a luxury for the childless. But no child needs to see a parent have a tantrum.
A meeting I dreaded done with today. But I think positive things will come of it.
And my plumbing problem is at last fixed. Now to pay the man. It's all progress. As is the first problem I mentiioned.
Some people are fearless. I've a good friend who is. She's saved lives because she acts before she reasons it out. I am more of a thinker. Most thngs move slowly in my life. I thought it just worked out that way because I'm persistent when it comes to obstacles and there always seem to be things in the way. But maybe I'm just slow. I know I'll get there: I always do eventually but boy, it's a way longer journey than most people.
So fearless. I'm not. Better, but I shake in my boots with anxitey sometimes. Put me in the middle of an epic cluster fuck and I"m your girl. But prepping for something big and post, not so much. My fearless friend tells me I'm intimidating as hell. Not the first time a friend has told me that. But I'm really not. I just give a damn. Too much sometimes.
I'm beginning to regain my optimism. I should fuck. I'm thinking about the island prince who keeps asking me if I miss him. I'm so not a romantic anymore even though deep down I crave it, I don't believe it. It's all smoke and mirrors to me. And I don't tell a man I miss him. Even if I do. Such a tough cookies sometimes. But y'all know I'm mush inside.
Still I AM more positive. And I'm going to work my ass off this weekend to get ahead.
I have a story. Apparently I have my own little hero. The ex's house on one of his custodial night...his gf was completely pissed and apparenlty ranting about me. (I've always been somebody's scapegoat; the reason for all their ills...honestly I don't get it.) Well my little petite tween daughter took herself downstairs from her room and her books and took on the big bad wolf. She calmly replied to her father and his gf "It's not right to talk about someone's mother like that. And especially on [my son''s] birthday." My son came home to tell how my girl is very brave. I'm sorry that she feels she needs to be for me, but I am in awe too.
I really can fight my own battles, tired or not. Some people hold out feeling happy until they get to some point in their life...til they get married or get that job or win the lottery. But as much as I may work towards something, you never know what can happen or get in the way. The time to live is now. Because it can change in an instant.
My brave girl has emptied her tank this week. She gives and she gives and she does her best at everything she does. I think it caught up with her. She's curled into a ball next to our tom cat fast asleep as if were a baby and not almost a young lady. I may just keep her home and take care of her tomorrow. She deserves my best and the best.
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Well, one more deadline met, so I'm not letting the blues stop me. I know what it means of course when I'm teary each moment I'm alone and a few when I'm not. Serotonin levels low. A doc would say it's time for an SSRI. I'll consider it if this proves to me more than a short term setback. But I'm try to avoid unnatural substances if I can manage it.
My youngest son was evaluated by a neurodevelopmental MD and a new diagnognes resulted. I've a meeting thsi week and shared the info with his father. The response I got? "So are you going to drug him too?" My eldest takes an ADD medication on school days at his choosing which I'd rather he didn't. But when you exhaust all other options, sometimes parents make hard choice of medication. And it is a hard choice. I think my heart broke again tonight. Attacking my parenting ...welll my children are my center and my heart. There's more anger ahead from him. So I will just have to learn better coping mechanisms than responding to him or crying. I really am not this miksop I sound like. Damn, I have to find my backbone again. Quite honestly, cruel and/or angry people frighten me. And I know you have to stand up to a bully but I'm never quite ready until after it happens. I still expect the best out of people first until they prove themselves differently. I may be a sad sack right now, but I AM an optimist.
Tomorrow is my youngest's birthday. I did a little silliness and streamers which I never do...he's had a tough week and I want to make him smile if even for a moment. That's my magic. I can make almost everyone I meet feel better. I suppose I should use it on my ex but I'm so so unable to play his games. Better I keep my head down and let the attorneys be my bully stand ins until the worst of this is done.
I'm working on sorting myself out. Since I haven't time for the usual thing that works...fucking. Or really the inclination to deal with all the niceties that go with it. Honestly, I sound awful...But I am not good company right now. I'd rather do what I do, stay in the background, and get through. I'll shoot on the weekend. I'd planned to tonight but once I was in the car I realize how truly exhausted I am. And then I remembered time to make some birthday magic. Tomrrow I KNOW will be a good day. I'm going to make it just that.
I need something to look forward to. I'm not sure what that is going to be yet, but I know that will help. It will ease. And I just may have to look up an old friend or two and be very very naughty so someone will spank me out of my funk.
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Well a day spent with my cohorts was hard hard work, but good work all the same. But I'm both physically and brain tired. And I'm wondering for woman with such a high libido, it's been awhile for me...usually I'm clamoring more to fuck. It's there, the desire. But it's almost as if what amounts to my own karmic and very real housekeeping needs to be done first. Though I'm making sure I get touched between caring for my affectionate family and scheduling massages since I know I need some care for myself.
I'm still down to half a house that works and half that does not plumbing wise, but it will in the end be a solvable problem. And we are nothing if not adaptable. Perhaps this will teach the children more equanimity since heaven knows things are almost guaranteed to go awry. I'd appreciate a little ease and soon. But I think the only path there is to DO what I must and move on to the next and the next. Key is not to allow too much time to go by to fill with worry and anxiety. Now if major systems in my home could just stop breaking, that would help.
Well I'm a woman who appreciates basics, heat, hot water, proper drainage, refrigeration, sleep, a meal, and a good hard cock. Plenty of hard in my life right now, it's just not cock...
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Well perhaps my karmic kick in the ass is due to my contact with my former cuck. Married men are never a good idea. And having been inadvertently on both sides of that dynamic, it never ends well and it always does end. But then attachment is a funny thing. And I admit I still feel more that man than I've felt for anyone since.
I'm sure I was played. It took me 10 months to figure out the man was married and by then I was in too deep to do the right thing and just run fast in the opposite direction. Having been cheated on myself, I was horrified and apalled by myself and him. But y'all know me; I have to get my head around a situation to deal. There's a reason why I understand infidelity so well. I've spent a decade studying it. I think my goal was to find a way to make sure it never happened again in my life. I'm always so sure there's a solution ot everything...but there isn't one to that. It's as old as time and the only way prevent taking any role in such is to stay out of relationships.
I think I've tried my share of relationships with ultimately unsuitable men...those relationships you go into knowing it has an expiration date. But you like them and they like you and you think maybe it's better to stay open and maybe something will grow. But you know instinctively that magic is missing.
Hell, I've searched for FWBs for a long time as there's a mutual respect, friendship, and some good sex. And no one has to feel bad or get pressured for saying, sorry no, I'm too busy. I'm a little bit broken. I meet a new guy or guys. They're enthusiastic. Compiments. Attention. Claiming to want to do more than sex or wanting to wake up together. The thought of sleeping or waking up with another person just turns me off. Now that's broken. And there no nice way to say "I want to have sex with you and hang out a bit but then I really need you to leave." Awful!
I confess at the same time to wanting to curl up and put my head on one person's shoulder, sigh, and let it all go. But who is a mystery. I could sleep with cuck. Well I could imagine sleeping with him. I suspect the actual experience would not be to my taste. But there's a clammoring for a time away from my life. A weekend with someone I have history with in a place neither of us knows. An affair to remember where we both leave our lifes and the minutiae and spend 48 hours in a fantasy of infatuation, sex, and romance. Then go back and do what we do in reality. Maybe it's because I have so few good things to talk about these days. Or because I miss my grandmother. Or because I'm scared. Or bored. Or the burden of being in charge is heavier than I feel I can support. Or maybe I'm just a shallow chick looking for a good time.
These guys....they meet me. I look okay. I talk better. And there's that dichotomy that men seem to like..virgin/whore between my outward appearance and my sexuality. But honestly..it's like instant relationship. Now I suppose that's just the way it is done as I remember a bit of that in my 20s. But back then a woman doesn't know what's going on and the goal is that relationship. So there's a tension. But now I know the progression and men want more than I do these days. I don't feel that anyone who claims to want me knows a thing about me. They imagine who I am without taking the time to really know me. And that bugs the hell out of me. They just want SOMEONE, not ME. I'm not some generic woman to fill the role of partner to a partnerless guy. I'm failry nice, pretty smart, outwardly conservative but otherwise a non conformist. I want a ton of sex and good sex. And I'm pretty simple but I have a remarkably complicated life. And I want to scream at him/them "get to know ME before deciding you want me!" I don't trust 'em. I don't trust anyone who doesn't THINK first and look at the practical as well as what they feel.
So my home problems are not fixed and I got taken by a tradesman. I have faith that my old guy is going to help me solve this. But I had to take action against the last guy who completely misrepresented his expertise. And I fucking hate being mean. And I kicked another out of my house for the same company when he claimed their warranty was null and void as it was a new problem. I was definitively not nice. Imcompetence masquerading as a professional doesn't fool me twice. I should have known better. So I'm in a house that half works. It's funny. I live in pretty nice neighborhood. But things other people take for granted like a wam house and working plumbing...real basics...are fucked up royally here. I'm sure I'm not alone. But my job is to provde for my children and I do feel I'm not doing so at an acceptable level. And that's the killer for me.
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I think tonight is the first day I've felt truly positive and back to myself in a long time. I made some time for self care and went for a massage to the lady who's been helping me relax for upward of 2 decades. We know each other's stories and really she is to me with a familiar bartender is to a man my age...she has her own kind of medicine in her magic hands and lavender oil and the way we can talk about everything and learn from each other. And laugh enough too leave smiling. I've come to her barely holding myself from bawling in her arms and she hands me a tissue if my eyes weep and takes the pain away. I know I get like that from stress...my body just tightens and contracts as if it were trying to crawl back to fetal position and go back to a safe place. No womb, no momma, and no grandmother for me anymore so I have to be a grown up and find those who care for me. And make sure I take care of myself.
I bit the bullet and made myself do another step I've been scared of in the divorce process. Got my ass moving and showed up at my attorney's office with papers in hand a checkbook if needed. (Thank heavens it wasn't today.) It feels good to have another boulder off my shoulders. Really it was my friends I ran into yesterday from work. We helped each other, gave pep talks. And then one had her husband come down to my home last night to help us with the heating system that keeps shutting down at night. It's not fun to wake up to no heat every morning even if I can get the boiler going again myself. I don't ask usually. And I feel really weird about getting help. But I've stretched my comfort level and asked. And it's there. OMG, I'm just so very very grateful.
There's still a lot ahead. And plenty more sh*% to wade through, but no sense in worrying about things that have to be done. Best just to do 'em and get them out of my head. I've a weekend ahead with my children. A warm house. Purring cats. And no more weekends to work for months and months. Good things are ahead. Just have to make the tough choices.
Thank you, the few who have offered me your support here. It's gotten me through. Hopefully I can do the same.
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Well it does always get better, doesn't it? Even if you can't see your way to moving one more muscle to make it so. Better. And on the bright side, my downstairs is sanitized and bleached cleaner than it's ever been. Time to keep moving.
It must be better because my libido is tapping at my head...little internal whispers telling me I could call CW...dinner and fucking. But I know he'd be offended if he didn't spend the night and tomorrow would be a mess. Hopefully I don't succumb quite yet. Looking at my schedule I really don't have time for sex unless I were to find a simple daytime FWB on occasion. It just would be so so nice to come. I feel wound tight and I know I'll just keep getting tighter if I don't do something about it.
I confess to craving something familiar, comforting....for once I'd like to put my head on a strong shoulder and weep or just sigh and lean in. I think I need a mommy....
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Endless shoveling still. 145 feet of sidewalk. 185 feet from the house to the end ot the drive where I left my car so I only had to do a path instead of the whole thing. Still it's ridiculous. This whole way of living in an archiac home requires time and effort that the business of modern life doesn't leave time for. And then this evening I found out why the drains were slow even though I kept the faucets running so the pipes didn't freeze. The sewer backed up. Honestly, from dealing with shit in my life to literal shit in my house. So I stepped from a relaxing bath to running downstairs in barefeet and a towel to deal with what my son called an exploding toilet. Well I learned tonight that all drains are connected in a house and they will drain to the lowest toilet in the home when there is a backup. It was a lesson I could have done without.
And so I spent another 2 hours with gloves, hot water, and bleach and mop. And calling all my plumbers and his plumbers. It will be an early morning. My wonderful children told me how good it was that I always know what to do. OMG, I so don't. But it's good for a child to think that. I faded a few minutes ago and cried on my eldest son's shoulder, partly laughting at the same time at the sheer perverseness of my life and this archaic house. I told them next house is a condo where they remove snow and nothing is older than I am. And there's more time for things one wants to do rather than have to dos.
Honestly, I don't get it. Do I have a karmic kick me sign on my back?
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At least I started the great blizzard dig out. But heavens this is going to take a very long time. The snow blower doesn't work on heavy wet 3ft drifts and most of my dirveway is just such. Thirty feet cleared by this old lady with a shovel and sheer grit. Perfect time for someone to make me mad as it would just rev me up. I think an hour at a time, rest and hour and keep going. Please no more tonight Mama Nature. The Keys looks better and better except for those occasional hurricanes but now we have those in Jersey, so 6 of one half dozen of another.
Better to be like my tomcat who has not left the same cushion on the couch all day. He looks rather like a melted oreo. There's a shutter banging outside my bedroom window too that the high winds have loosened but there's nothing for it but to wait and hope it doesn't blow away. It's rather like an old movie haunted house, with snow instead of rain and the shtter clanging. Well they never show the fireplace on and pots of tea and fresh banana nut bread on the counter in the movies so it's not so haunted here. And blessedly there is heat and power thank heavens. Not so bad at all.
I'm hearing from prospective beaus again. It's been about 2 weeks. But then I've been bad today and been texting men I shouldn't really talk to. Former cuck. CW. The BBC. I'll admit it. It's a different kind of lonely in a house that is usally full, empty and in the middle of a blizzard. I did hear from my youngest children and I know they are safe and warm and have built an igloo with their father. So that is more than they'd get with me: I'd make them work to remove the snow. Their father is far more fun when he pays attention. Me, I think the only real time I'm fun is in bed. Well...the children would say meal times too I think. I'm all about what needs to happen to keep our ship afloat, basics, and keeping everyone emotionally healthy. Serious biz.
I need some fun soonish. But this week is not going to be it. I think I'll need a massage sincie fucking is not going to happen any time soon. I can feel my muscles tighten every day.
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Well that's done. But OMG I hate this. The whole process of tearing what was built all apart and doling it out. And doling out the chlldren. Well I'm not letting anyone tear them up and discussed a few things my ex would rather I didn't. Ugh, airing dirty laundry is just wrong. I really don't think I will ever do this again. Marriage was not something I'd ever thought highly of. Given the mess of extrication, no to repeating this again.
But I came home to group hugs and the whole family plus pets crowded into my bed for a time tonight. We drew strength and warmth from each other. And plenty of giggles too. I'm going to work my a@@ off tomorrow as it seems we may have a snowbound weekend. Best get what I can done as deadlines loom.
I almost took up CW's invitaion to stop by his business and see him. He was by far the most protective of the men I've dated. And I miss that. But I didn't. No use starting something I'm not going to finish properly. And I can be a grownup when it's hard to.
My blast from the past visitor has brough back things I'd forgotten about who I was as a very young woman and the choices I made that led me to now. I really was the most uptight priss you could imagine. But I realized I'd always done the hard thing when it came to being responsible. I'm far too good at taking the blame for things that are not my fault. I apologize to my children for the fuck ups that happen when they are with their father. On some level I still feel the failure of my marriage is my personal failure. I know better that it is not just me. But it is still an agony at times that I could not give them the intact family I thought I had. Do you know for the first three years of my separation, I couldn't tell anyone but my two closest friends. I was so horrified by it all.
But there are so many women out there like me. And it's not so unusual. And quite frankly I'm a happier person now, even though it may not seem like it at present. Conflict takes a toll on me. So the question is, do I fuck it out tomorrow night at another party before the snow arrives? Or do I stay home and watch Doc Martin? And maybe have a local curry? Tempting to stock up on biryani and nan and samosas and pretend I'm somewhere exotic far from home.
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Anticipatory anxiety or not, I'm ready for tomorrow come what may. Court and a new orientation for work in the evening since my day is trashed. It'll increase my mommy guilt to plus 30, but I just have to remember to make the most of the time we do have. And when I do finally get home, I'll tuck them in close to me and know I'm doing my best for them and me. But they are my raison d'etre. They always will be. There's nothing that comes close to the passion I have for my children and the desire to do my best for and with them. If I can just keep that kernel of truth in my head tomorrow, I'll do okay.
I was trying to remember today when that old friend/beau stopped by what I was like then. He knew me as in my physical prime and I was a mouse. A trooper but a mouse. And ever so proper. He asked if he could stop by again and hugged and held me a long time. I always found him a bit of player and shallow. Fun, but not for me. And he'd whisper to me how it really was back then when I was too innocent to know who the man I married really was. He just retired from the same profession as my ex and I remember his awe at my ex's talent. It's hard for everyone else to do what he does, but he does it seemingly effortlessly and with speed.
If only he could approach the other areas of his life with the same dedication. I want to fix this. Somehow I believe I can. I don't know how. But there must be a way, or an apporach or a communication technique. I've hopes that tomorrow will go well. He's a man who plays to the crowd and cares deeply what everyone things of him except those he's disappointed. Those he stops trying for. Maybe this lady will be able to get definitive answers.
On a more shallow note, I've a few connection from the party asking me to come again. And again...do I or don't? Gvien that i'm bound to be alone and snowed in this weekend, there's an appeal. Or do I simply stay home and work by a$$ off?
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A blast from the past today. After a difficult night, I was sipping oolong this afternoon and crying over my keyboard on this site when there was a knock at the door. My ex's old roommate and my long ago sometimes lover showed up to say hello after 20 odd years. I knew he survived the 9/11 as that was the last time I thought about and check up on him as he worked at ground zero. And I asked him about it as well both got teary.
No, he's not going to be the one to step in and take CW or my ex's place. But what touched me was that we had a history I'd long forgottten. It was when I was single and he knew both the man I married as a single too. It's interesting getting a male perspective on who I was then. Always a trooper I'm told. And one of the few women who understands to pull of security/safety and passion that we otten choose from when we marry. Atl least that's his take.
One of my current cohorts insists I don'l know how people view me. And she's right, I don't. I love and respect her so her view of me hit me deeply. It's a powerful thing when I woman you admire feels the same about you. She tells me I'm everyone's angel. Hardly a word I would use to describe myself and I feel anything but. She tells me when everyone else is relaxing and bs'ing in the computer room, I don't leave the floor; I'm with the sick and I care. And I don't stop. But I do my own thing and don't ask for help. But I'm learning. They're all giving me pep talks since my anxiety is always more anticipatory and I've a lot of it right now as much is ahead.
I've cried for days really. Even though I've sorted it out. I want to make things right for my chidren. There was another episode with my ex last night and I had to insist he bring them home. My youngest boy keeps telling me that none of it is my fault so why am I so upset? They know I can't fix their father's life. He called me his "hero."" I'm no hero. But I did get them out of something damaging. And now tomorrow I have to somehow bring up the issue respectfully before a third party I've never met. Without losing it.
Put me in the middle of blood, gore and miscellaneous fluids and I don't flinch. But tell me to air my dirty laundry up close and personal and I'm shaking in my boots. Fuck fuck fuck. Nothing to do but to do it. My libido has gone south with the birds, but hopefully that blood will go to my brain instead of my nether parts where it usually is and help me to do good.
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Well when all else fails on a cold Sunday, put a roast in the oven and turn up the heat. Today rosemary and garlic pork, pentiy of real mashed potatoes with pan gravy. Light the candles, set the table and know we are a family. And there's wealth in that.
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Well there's snow on the ground for the first time here all season, So our grey world looks fresh and bright and white. Always good to step out of my comfort zone in small ways when I'm feeling put upon. So I had my eldest drive the car to the end of my long driveway, with supervision of course. He has to start somewhere and since his father is less of a father than I....well, someone has to give him a start. Heavens, how did I, a woman with a decent brain, end up with such a man? I was definitely an innocent and equated his manners with honor. I think perhaps back then I just could not let go of attachments. Not that I'm much better now but honestly I've got to get his role in the lives of our family minimal so that the disappointments are just glitches instead of disasters.
So we're still in pj's, all of us. I had to pick up my youngest last night from a sleepover in just what I have on now. I'm proud of him. He decided to leave rather than be drawn into a prrank on a younger more vulnerable child. He is the one who worries me as his is so like his father. And he often chooses to just remove himself from situations rather than deal with them. But then he knocks quietly on the door to my room later and asks if he can talk. And I listen. He's well liked by many, especially adults. I think it's his physical beauty and youth. We are all suseptible to beauty. And he is, inside and out. Last year at this time we were begiinning counseling for his exteme anger at me. We've come a long way. But divorces have the heaviest toll on the children, however much we try to make it otherwise.
I need to keep my family safe. And quite frankly I need to keep us from being poor, the way I grew up. It's been a long time since and I'm spoiled. But more so than that. I am not going to let us slide to poverty, so I have to keep working and teach them how to do the same. There are ways to downsize and stilll liive safe and help them to learn self sufficiency. But sometimes the pressure is unimaginable. But I expect it's not so different from everyone else out there feeling the same.
Well I still have today. Home. Safe. Warm. Tea & cocoa & chai. Cat's curled up nearby. And a holiday tomorrow. I've sent off emails, respectful and honest, in hopes that somehow there will be a solution to what's ahead.
There is very little fairness in my life. Behaving well is no guarantee that I will be granted the same. But I'm going to just try. And try. And try No quitting in this neck of the woods.
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Tough day. I begin this week back to the usual frenzy that my life turns into. And of course all I plan and set up is all for naught with an ex who just loves to fuck with my head. I cried nearly the whole way back from our family adventure at Mediwell not really crying, more leaky tears I couldn't stop.) It doesn't do to ruin the fun with grown up troubles. And so I didn't. I put on Star Wars on the DVD, put my sunglasses on, and tissued up the puddles that formed underneath them. Fuck weeping too.
Well I called in favors. Endless favors. Me, who was brought up to never ask anyone for anything. And I don't know if anyone really WANTED to help me, But I help everyone when I can. And now apparently karma is doing me a favor. And oh, I'm so grateful. SO grateful. Now there are still gaps and IDK if it's going to work out. But there's a chance now.
I began to see my folly today in my elevation of being fancy free and single. That's the thing you forget, when things go wrong as they often do, you don't have that reassuring voice at the other end of the phone to call. Though in some cases it brought me down more than up, we all need support now and then. And as I woman, yes, I've wanted a protector and I've wanted someone who would fix things now and then (really more literally (think handyman) than otherwise. But I am good at solving problems. Fingers crossed folks; send me some good mojo please.
I'm going to text my sister, the Wiccan, to do her thing even. But my family knows we have to find a way to get though and make this work and keep me on a path that is relatively successful so I can take care of my family. It's for me, because it's empowering to be somewhat good at something. But it's really for us, my children and I, the team.
I had bad dreams last night. And then sure enough other not positive things followed. I need to get back to believing in the positive.
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Tough day. I begin this week back to the usual frenzy that my life turns into. And of course all I plan and set up is all for naught with an ex who just loves to fuck with my head. I cried nearly the whole way back from our family adventure at Mediwell not really crying, more leaky tears I couldn't stop.) It doesn't do to ruin the fun with grown up troubles. And so I didn't. I put on Star Wars on the DVD, put my sunglasses on, and tissued up the puddles that formed underneath them. Fuck weeping too.
Well I called in favors. Endless favors. Me, who was brought up to never ask anyone for anything. And I don't know if anyone really WANTED to help me, But I help everyone when I can. And now apparently karma is doing me a favor. And oh, I'm so grateful. SO grateful. Now there are still gaps and IDK if it's going to work out. But there's a chance now.
I began to see my folly today in my elevation of being fancy free and single. That's the thing you forget, when things go wrong as they often do, you don't have that reassuring voice at the other end of the phone to call. Though in some cases it brought me down more than up, we all need support now and then. And as I woman, yes, I've wanted a protector and I've wanted someone who would fix things now and then (really more literally (think handyman) than otherwise. But I am good at solving problems. Fingers crossed folks; send me some good mojo please.
I'm going to text my sister, the Wiccan, to do her thing even. But my family knows we have to find a way to get though and make this work and keep me on a path that is relatively successful so I can take care of my family. It's for me, because it's empowering to be somewhat good at something. But it's really for us, my children and I, the team.
I had bad dreams last night. And then sure enough other not positive things followed. I need to get back to believing in the positive.
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Sorry darlings. I went back and corrected a few of my journal entries. Typos galore. The problem is I can't SEE. Most entries I do on the run from my go-everywhere Ipad and there's no way to increase the font size on the mobile version. What can I say? My vision is ageing the way I am. So do forgive my mess and try to translate.
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Most of us are familiar with the book The Ethical Slut. And although I hate the word "slut" or really any feminine specific perjoratives, it's a good thesis. The principal is that sex is a joyful act for a woman and she can embrace her sexuality in a very real sense without shame and in a very real honest way. The "ethical" component is the absence of cheating. The approach resonates with me.
I see no reason why one can't fuck who they want, using appropriate caution, as free agents. Now given this I suppose I could fuck a man in an open marriage as consent is given, but he's less appealing to me. My mind has been turning over who I want for even just simple fucking. And how I do or don't fit into a swingers dynamic.
I enjoy watching other women get fucked. It's fascinating to see what they like, how they are like or unlike me, the noises they make, even how the lumps and bumps on their bodies fall like mine or different than mine. Or how another woman gives a bj. Or simply how it looks to be fucked. I can watch porn. But reality is different. And really when I'm in the midst of fucking I don't really get a view. I'm on my back, or bent over the bed, or riding him trying to be really careful I don't slip wrong and hurt his cock with the slam down. There's never a view except of the sheets, my hands clenching, or his face when he cums.
So that's a tick in the yes column for swingers parties. And of course there's the divine ratio of a ton of men to relatively few women. So if you're even reasonably attractive, you'll have a coterie of suitors. If you can talk, say what you want, stop them when you don't want, and take control, all while having them in stitches, squirting, and enjoying every minute...well, I'm guessing there's an appeal there.
I do know one thing. I can't share my man. Maybe these swingers are more evolved than I emotionally. Though from my research it seems the majority get talked into it by their men. The men view it as a way to have their cake and eat it too, thinking they're going to fuck the sweet young things that flirt with the online. But we women are notorious for making it difficult to seal the deal, the younger the woman the more so. And men see their thickening wives as less attractive and generally over estimate their own athleticism.
Well, these women their partners judge as past prime enter the foray where men nearly always outnumber the women. A more attractive new man who gets hard at a woman who has been perfunctorily fucked for the past year..well it's a power trip. And guess what? Puss gets more cock than cock gets puss. Yet we give up all our power to the men in our lives. Well I for one would prefer to keep it. I don't think I want to be part of a couple at present. Now a cuckold would be lovely. But that has it's own set of complicatons. But I am thinking of revisiting a cuckold dynamic. Or working on developing friends who are open to sex now and then. But this ownership thing and playing as a couple, nope. I'll just have to keep my mouth shut to not offend swingers.
But a dearth of single males, most younger but not too young...maybe 15 years over the the possible 25. OMG I can't believe I don't think a male 15 years younger than me is a big deal anymore. And I am decidely anti-cougaring! But the 34-36 year old male still thinks and wants relationships but not marriage and thinks the sex and emotion will all come together like a male version of the fairly tale. I've learned relationships need not lead to the be all and end all. Everyone comes into your life for a reason, some for a short period realtionship with an expiration date and some to form lasting friendships. Maybe someday I'll experience a truly mature love. I'd like to think there's still a bit of hope there. But in the meantime I plan to live more than a little.
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I admit despte all my fun, I do get lonely. I shot rather beautifuly and long tonight. Really quite quite well with the big gun. Better with the new one but still learning the sights. And I shot long with the lighter weapon. It does make a woman feel capable. And outshooting the lcoal yahoo boys is a load of fun. Why do I like to beat the men so much? I do hope I'm not turning into a man-bashing mysogynist.
I could've had that thick cock and kinky sex I desire tonight. But the man asked me to spend the night last night then rescinded the sleepover invitation this morning. I knew then I wouldn't go. Claims of having to get up early which I understand completely, but then he shouldn't have issued the invite in the first place. So if I went for a booty call anyway, as satisfying in some ways as that would be, it would also send the message that disrespectful behavior is okay. My it sounds like I treat men like they are children with consequences and rewards for behavior. But then I hold myself to the same. I reward myself for doing well and try very hard to learn from the hard lessons and consequences..
A lovely solo dinner. No conflict. A few texts to people I probably should not talk to. But again I was lonely. But it was worth it to be without the conflict of CW. And to be home in my wonderful little bed between fleece sheets with a a small tiger cat curled at my feet. She is my daughter's cat, but seems to have migrated to the only inhabited room tonight and I haven't the heart to close my door to the pets as I usually do tonight.
It is peaceful. And I'm sleepy. And really not all that horny. Quelle surprise!
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It's interesting how my mind has opened since my naughty party. Really it has been more of a lover who wants to be more. The man pulled out all the romantic stops and my head was turned even though I really couldn't see dating him. I wondered if I was more prejudiced than I thought. I look around my local hangouts and there isn't a mixed racial couple around and this is in NJ, which I find less provincial than most towns. When I dated the vegan, I had the same problem imagining him in my usual haunts...the pubs, steakhouses and fish shacks I enjoy. Even my favorite ethnic place, thai, he dissed their vege curry. So I just saw my social life narrowing and someone not embracing the casual, outwardly conservative, girl next door I am.
There was plenty of naughty with both men. Vegan was a spanker. I'm not really into that but I explored and enjoyed the turn on it was. I'll call this new man the prince. Charming. Handsome. Extraordinarly well hung. Open. A little kinky. Funny. Gainfully employed. Honestly, what's not to like? Well, I visited him at his apartment in one of NJ's urban hells. Honestly, Northern NJ scares those of us from the more bucolic South, I had no idea. And I kept telling myself to cool down as I drove city street after street wondering how I was going to park my behemouth of a car. And thinking there's no way I'm walking alone in this neighborhood, and feeling like a tool for thinking that. Did his attractiveness factor drop when I came to his neighborhood? I'm ashamed to say it did. And quite frankly I'm surprised at myself. But I didn't feel safe or comfortable or like he could even vaguely get my world. Perhaps I'm more set in my ways than I'd thought. But I'm a single white parent alone way far from my world.
I tried and I stayed a bit. And it was hot, but not as hot when he was one among more vying for my attention. I reallly can't expect to repeat that again. I was new and fresh and somewhat interesting. I want to go back, but my moral compass has been spinning. Not for experiencing more. I'm single and free. But there were swingers present. IDK who was married and exploring consentually or who was cheating. Is there a chance I was with a cheater? Yeah. And I hate that. Even swingers who are both into full swap...I really don't want to be with anyone married. I went for the single men, of which there were many (or they were pretending ot be). And I enjoyed the novelty and the show.
I want to talk and learn how it makes people feel to do what they do. I want to understand and watch the process. And I simply like watching how other people cum. That is interesting to me. And how other women are when they fuck. All fascinating.
But of course they all think I'm a swinger, whatever that means as single. And see me as someone who shares their kink. Except all I can do is think about it. And I don't really. It would kill me to watch my man with another woman. Now a cuck who wants to watch me with others, well sure. Not fair! I know, but that's how I roll. And quite frankly just being what the book of the same name calls an "ethical slut" is right up my alley. Not a cheater, but a fully consentual sexual woman.
But here's a dilemma too. Read my profile here. I say I am monogamous. And I believe in and love the idea of one man. But I admit several men vying for the attention of a 50 yr old woman was intoxicating.
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Oh lo lo....I've indulged my bad girl side plus. I was very brave and went to a party. Swingers, singles, bi, voyeurs all. Even a tranny or two. Of course by now y'all know me. I was chatting up the tranny for hair & makeup tips & the mechanics of how he really makes his cock disappear without a bump in his mini. I've no attraction to the feminine in the bedroom so he/she did nothing for me, but the men were fascinating to watch. They wanted her but they really didn't want to want her the way they did. IDK if he realized the dynamic really as he was decidedly gay. But there in lies the center of female power...having a man want you despite himself.
So I show up late to this party...and heavens I understand why a single woman at a swinger's venue is called a unicorn. LOTS of attention. In life I'm not comfortable with overt attention. In private I adore it. I had to manage them like a crowd of naughty school boys. It helped that I had on boots, So I towered above many of them. It bugs the alphas since they get turned on by me in giantess mode but can't quite approach until I'm in my stocking feet with a "oh, that's much better."
I'd tucked a magnum condom in my pocket in hopes that I'd find someone who fit. I am an optimist after all. Actually 4 magnum's at the party...a veritable United Nations of big cock. I had a few. Okay I had them all. And more. And a snarky conversation back and forth with a very cafe au lait magnum of a Carribean guy.
When I'm part of a couple I'm monogamous, or in perhaps a rare case with a cuckold, consentually otherwise. Right now the opportunity cost is too high. I don't want to limit myself to one particular cock. And I don't want to share a man as in a swinger relationship. A cuckold is tempting, but that takes a deep emotional connection and such things take time I don't have and trust I probably can't do either at present. There is something incredibly intoxicating about being one of a minority of women in a room full of men who are both horny and courteous. They vie for me. The only time I participated in anything close prior was with my former cuck. And I always had him in my mind, checking on him, making sure he was okay with it all. This time it was just pleasure and completely about me.
I left with a line of guys wanting my number and to discuss getting together. But I don't want one. I want two or more. Is it selfish? It sure is. But no harm no foul. I told one man I had dinner with the next night no to giving being a couple a try. And I LIKED him. I could've had my own personal magnum. But he wanted to own me. And cynical me realized my presence would have gained him admittance to places he as a single male can't go. I am the unicorn so it seems i have entre anywhere. Such a strange and wonderful escape.
And I bought my new firearm from an attractive retired police officer sans help from a bf. I sort of figured out how to clean and oil it. I shot for an hour and a half switiching between the guns. It ws sheer fun. Though of course I don't know the new one well enough to shoot well, but it made me shoot with my known side arm kick ass well. I am looking forward to shooitng and perhaps more magnums ahead. Made a few friends too.
And yes, bigger is better.
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A disturbing day. There are remants of that sinking sensation in my heart still, but I left early today and treated myself to a proper massage with the lady who has been using her magic hands on me for nearly 20 years. I quite frankly need to be touched. And I need it in a healing, giving, tender way. And so I was. Thank God. Honesty, I think I'd shatter if I hadn't.
I at last had a conversation with CW. It was really not at all pleasant. He's a blustery man who thinks and seems alpha. But his ego is vey dependent on others. So he pulled the male bs to end a relationship I've experienced far too often. It goes like this. He will act a bit more distant. He will have expectations that he won't tell you to insure they aren't met. And he will fume and assume you know why. It sounds rather womanly, actually, as I write it out here...But the key is the partner who wants a definitive break won't do it. They will simply create a climate of misery until the other is forced into being the bad guy for their own sanity. It''s passive aggression and I despise it. And yep, I felt almost precisely like I did when my ex did the same. And it wasn't good.
Some people can maintain enough dignity in difficult situations to not assess blame. Most cannot. I try to behave well. But I still say my piece. There's give and take and kindess and apology. This conversation had none of the above. It's was all fragile ego and assessment of blame. I did not succumb to tearing him down though he wasn't as restrained. He was quite simply, an asshole. And the crux of it is that I thought we were essentially friends. And I was mistaken. Actions speak.
So I was left questioning my perspective, my judgement. He is not who I thought he is, but the asshole he warned me he is. He did say he kept trying to reach me to be friends. I truly expected an apology. But this was just awful. And I'm left thinking, who the hell is this guy? Just as I wondered about the man I was with for decades.
The most insidious of feelings? It's self doubt. And that's what I struggle with. Sometimes the emotion morphs into relief. But I am left wondering about what I really know of people and feeling rather careful, a bit needy, and quite quite sad. A man would just fuck it out. And so should I.
But I'm thinking I'll go be a grown up, pick up that firearm I've been researching and shoot all weekend. It's hard to argue with a 2" circle in a bullseye. No doubt. Just something real, simple, and concrete. I'm all about real people.
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I hate rules. Mine. Others. Dating ones. But I'm doing the no contact one. It pisses off me if I'm on the opposite side of it. And I think the necessity for such is immaturity on one or both parts. But nothing good will be said and really I need to take the time myself By the time I'll be ready to talk again I just may be over it, or at least busy enough for this to tuck into a far away compartment in my brain & heart. I should be done. I really should. But hell, y'all know the time and bs it takes to get to know and find someone you're compatible with, sexually and/or otherwise. IDK how it'll pan out. I do know I've other fish to fry and literally a pot of trout chowder to make given the 18 lbs of rainbow my children managed to land on our roadtrip. Fish tacos and chowda...not a bad way to spend second day of 2016.
Best wishes y'all.
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Last night I was sad and angry. CW was to show up for fabulous apps and such. A plan agreed on weeks ago. Then Wednesday night at dinner he told me he was going to a firehouse with strippers. Ummm...wtf? I don't even date guys who are doing the strippper thing if I'm no invited. Actually I've never been to anything like that as a hen party or otherwise. So fucking sick of being viewed one dimensionally. A woman can be a lady, know how to behave, and adore sex but a whole lot of men can't seem to handle that. Well fuck that.
I received quite a few communications. The vegan. A few others from the vanilla dating site. I'm feeling discourgaed. Like it's all going to be effort for naught. And like I should just get back to work, and focus on other elements of my life. I don't want to feel sad. And time for leisure will soon become very precious to me and I don't want to waste even an hour. I'd rather do what feels good. Whether that's shooting or vege'ing or going to yoga or the gym again.
I spoke to friends. I know the mars/venus/male/female thing. Don't we all. A male friend told me, yes, it it's an argument a man will absent himself and not deal. But for a woman it doesn't just go away. And men play the blame game (all women are ultimately crazy they telll themselves). Well fuck. I may just switch to women.
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The truth? I cry inconsolably for part of every holiday.
I wept this time in the shower so hard that I began to cough and couldn't catch my breath. Why? Well, sometimes I feel incredibly alone. No wait, it's not really even that. It's that I want to be with someone I can count on. Hell, I've learned from parenting that most of the time all you really need to do is show up and do your best. Other relationships are not so different.
Thank heavens karma came through for me tonight and Darling Dom called. I needed the voice of a friend. A friend who has heard all my stories and frustrations a hundred times and still cheers me on. Kindness and support, The man deserves wonderful things; few people remain as good friends and constant supporter as he.
He tells me to remember the power of silence. That "no contact" rule of breaking up. It drives the other crazy. And let's one have the space and healing they need. I'm going to work with that and block CW. The man admitted tonight he likes me sweet and nice and proper. Now folks, I can be sweet, and I try to be nice but someone please save me from proper. It's his way of telling me he can't do the kink. And I need the kink. I need to simply fuck too, but oh I really need some kink.
I outshot hm too. He's completely pissed off that I affronted his masculinity. Maybe I do need to look at a sub again...if only he's an alpha military or police officer in life, it would be perfect. Hmmmm.....maybe I should try getting pulled over more and speed up my driving. I AM far too proper. But honestly, I want someone strong secure and free to lean on now and then. I want to know my back is covered as much as he knows I have his.
Do people think like this anymore?
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Well the silver is starting to tarnish as the holidays wind down. It's been years since I've had a child free NYE and adults-only parties have tended to the more hating-my-date-at-the-end-of-the-night than fun. Still we always imagine the grass is greener doing what someone else is doing. Silly silly us.
A few days roadtrip. Maddening crowds. A great hotel and greater hot tub. Decent food. Reconnecting with those friends who are more family than my own blood. And being in enough economically depressed areas to appreciate the blessing of living in house full of light at the Jersey shore. Growing up my house had the same feel as my friends....you don't turn on lights during the day even if it's dark inside. And all the light bulbs in my Gran's house were 40 watts. One to light the whole room. Here I'm spoiled. I love overhead lights and tall windows. The first thing I do when I wake is open all the shades and add light. My name means light, so perhaps that part of why it's so hard for me when there isn't enough.
I spent hours sorting out insurance problems and dealing with the ex. After a disturbing night sleeping on the couch. Awful sex dreams with people I've no desire to fuck. I woke up completely disturbed and it didn't improve until I took the time to make an everything bagel with cream cheese, smoked trout and capers. A double mug of very hot, very good Assam tea, and it looked better. I just know the fun part of my break is over. It's time to do the decidedly not fun stuff.
Still the tree is beautiful. My son caught an 8 lb rainbow trout and I came home with another 10 lbs of the freshest trout imaginable. So a bit more magic happened for my children.
I haven't had so much magic. A bit out of sorts. The handoff last night with my ex was just disturbing as it's another night he refuses to take them to his home. No one understands it. My children feel unwanted and their things are inaccessible to them from his home. His parents home, hotels......he's making the woman he lives with miserable and the children confused. I AM grateful I'm no longer the woman in his life, but honestly...I get pulled into comforting my children and and their questions about things I know nothing about. But a child who hugs me with a 'why?" is not someone I'm ever going to take the easy way out with.
And I've had NO sex for long enough that I'm a grumpy Penny indeed. No end in sight soon. But next weekend, I'm planning on some decidedly naughty pursuits.
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I made it through my personal gauntlet of worry. Solo holiday breaks are anxiety provokig for me. I end up lost loved ones and I weep. There are times for tears but I've shed far too many: I'd rather get on with it and live and experience and enjoy. CW was kind and indulged my need for a 24 hour escape. Shopping for firearms and sextoys, Caipirinhas and grilled meat, and wandering The Magic Garden were just what I needed.
Last night my family returned to a my version of a taco bar, artisian truffles from my trip, and conversations tucked into my new fleece sheets in my bed. They all vistited and snuggled and told me their joys and frustrations with the weekend with their father and his femaile. She's young, reactive, and self absorbed but then aren't we all when we are young and vying for a bigger role in someone's life? Still I'm a protector, so it drives me mad when my children are exposed to drama and inappropriateness. There's a time and a place for everything and adults in my book should behave as such. Oh, I sound lke such a schoolmarm. I'd make the ideal schoolmarm Domme in victorian garb with an array of switches.
One day perhaps I'll indulge that particular fantasy if I found the right partner. The real crux is to find a social alpha/private sub male who responds to impact play by turning into a fucking machine. I don't know that such exists. Certainly in cuckoldry that dynamic can happen, but I've usually seen impact reduce cock swelling rather than increase it. Oh, it would be fun if only...
I have to pack for another roadtirp today; this one for my family with me in charge. Really my close friends tell me I'm not really Domme but I just take charge when it's needed. In my life it's been oddly inevitable. Country over city excusions for a few days and visiting friends who have become family. My family these days isn't blood except for my children. It's a group of dear friends from 30 to 90, a small group, who recognize family is what and who you make it. And we all just love and support each other and find ourselves reaching out to take each other through our personal bugaboos just when we need it. So I see, I'm not so solo afterall. But those relationships need maintenance and time and that's what I need to give.
Holidays are such odd times; memory filled...I miss my Gran. I miss my sister. And really my holidays growing up have no ressemblance to what I have now. Now I'm with people who both love and LIKE each other. Then, there was love but it was selfish and grasping and possessive. And no oe ever laughed. Now however I live in a house of laughter and smiles. I'm sure I'm making endless mistakes but I'm paying attention and I'm certainly trying. If effort counts, I'm sure workng hard.
Off to make more memories. Darlings be nice to each other and lsiten. Just listen.
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What a funny Christmas eve. It's downright tropical, this weather. It's beautiful, rain and all. I think waiting for the tree has made us appreciate it's beauty even more. I'm still working on the buche, a 4 recipe in one cake. But that's what my beauties requested this year, so that is what they will have. They're spoiled of course, as am I. My son came home from his school party grumbling all the baked goods were Costco and "disgusting." My future daughters-in-law will not thank me.
It's not often I have time to fuss or to make things pretty. There are more important things to do in real time. But I'm still a girl and a mother and I adore taking care of my fledglings the best I can. I'm a retro chick in that I bake from scratch, still hang my Gran's ornaments with reverence, and the only sound is my children conversing and my daughter teaching herself Christmas carols on the beat-up out-of-tune piano that came with my house. She is amazing. Working from sax music on the iPad, she's picking out tunes. It really something wonderful. The windows are open and my neighbors have peeked in to encourage her. There's a sweetness to the day.
I've settled my nervousness of getting all sad and maudlin with a weekend without the children mid holiday. I'm not going all the way to my hometown to sit and reflect at Gran's grave. It'll probably be snowing there anyway. But I will see friends who have become family and fish. And I will stop in Philly on the way for some great Asian and bubble tea. Not a bad plan, I think.
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Grey, foggy, rain...and absolutely insane drivers on the road panicked to do their shopping. I'm done and wrapped. Just have a tree to add ornaments to. Much lower key than usual but there are lights on my white picket fence (I told you I was the girl next door). And a wreath on the door. The stockings are hung. And the box parade from the attic has slowed. Tonight is a seafood festival of a meal, and Chrismas eve Greek lamb. I'm solo Christmas night dinner so hopefully my over burdened larder will hold out.
It's tough to be motivated with my children are all home and chores done, resting on the couch reading and working on ipad games. It's peaceful. And my over activity of last night is catching up with me. Yes, CW spend the night. I invited him to the range and outshot him. I've been looking to add a 22 to my arsenal. Something lighter but with the 1911 full size grip I love so I've been trying an endless array to find nothing quite right. I don't mind investing in a good gun, but I have to love it. Rather like I treat a handbag. But these should last a lifetime.
No fighting. I did have to swallow my words a time or two. And so did he. But quite frankly we both wanted to fuck and be nice to each other. And so we did. I tend to challenge a man to fuck me so hard I can't walk. Last night might have been the closest someone has come to getting me immobile. But I had a luncheon today, so I cooled my poor puss off in the shower and grinned and bore it. I ache. It's a good ache. And last night I screamed. I'm rather found of shooting things, fucking, and screaming...it's so NOT wholesome. Bad girl is enjoying coming out to play.
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Mmm.....same excess of rum drink with the spice butter but added satsuma juice from the last one of the season left in the frig. Tomorrow I shoot and enjoy a proper orangey rummy mule post. Last time with my great big 45 I had a 2 inch grouping right in the bullseye. When I tense up and lose my concentration, I shake myself loose again beginning with my ass and oh, the guys at the range enjoy THAT. IDK why I'm such a good shot for a relatively inexperienced shooter but it's gratifying to have the range master use my stance and grip as an example. I'm looking for a 22 as 25 ammo is killing my budget. Still searching for the right one, rather like the three little bears story. Last one was too big. Before that was too small. I'm still seeking my just right.
Y'all know what's next. I'm seeking that just right cock too. I'm running into trouble with Mr. Longs. They make me bleed and there's the end of that. Truly, I've made a study of the perfect cock for me...7" long, 6" diameter is perfection And I've never found it yet. Cuck was a 6X6 and rather divine with a big mushroom head. CW claims he's 7 but I think he has visions of grandeur, but the man can fuck, no doubt about it. The best of him is that he's not done in when he's done and makes sure then more and more and more for me. But no way is the man even close to 6 thick. Still there's something incredibly appealing about a contemporary who can get hard and stay hard and fuck and fuck and fuck. It's not easy to find. Most men thing they give me an o and they're good. Noooooo....I'm a multi, multi, multi 0 girl. And I want to go til we can't speak. Let alone walk.
I've had time now for the first time to catch up on so many tasks. I'm creating a large divorce file that is an awful thing, but necessary. I expect it will all be donw by this time next year. But oh, he's going to call me truly awful names. First time in my life I've been called the c word. I remember feeling fearful but being congnizant of not backing down. I've done much. Legally much has been achieved to secure my future. But oh, it's going to be so unpleasant. But soon it will also be done. I wish I could be done. Most people think of me and exceptionally nice. And I am. And I try to live that way. But I'm not a fool or a doormat or someone who ever gives up.
At least all the bs and pain I've been through for over a decade is of use. I've met others like me. Others who aren't quite as far along as I. Who look to me. And I help. And I say I wish I could give you an answer or make it less painful. But all I can say is that eventually this will end, this purgatory of endless being married but not.. And the only way through is is just that...you get through. One day there will be a party. An irreverant non-pc horray-the-wicked-ex-is-gone party. And I'm going to drink too much, kiss and hug my friends, and howl at moon.
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Well there's a tree in the house that the cats think is their Christmas present. I used a chain saw for the first time today to the amazement of my sons. The farmer didn't cut off the botton so I brought it home, pulled out the chainsaw I've never used and always been afraid of and cut it off. Rather proud of not doing the girly thing and calling for help. Though now I want to be a lumberjack and cut more things down.
The scent of pine, a fire, candles, couch shared with the whole family and our big tomcat who thinks he's one of my progeny too...a good night. We stopped at a local alpaca farm on the way to the tree farm and it was a little bit of heaven. My daughter has been converted from her desire for a puppy to now an alpaca. They're largely standoffish creatures except for the rare one in a thousand who permits approach, will take a carrot out of hand and lean in for a snuffly alpaca kiss. Beautiful creatures. Gorgeous eyes. And then of course there is the fur. I spluged for my own christmas gift that I couldn't put down, a baby fine scarf with a collar of Suri alpaca fur that I may just sleep in. It's nearly the chestnut/penny color of my hair and really quite quite wonderful. There are very few things I can't put down. This was one.
I still feel a bit of fear/dread/anxiety...mildish...anticipatory anxiety I'll call it, about the holiday ahead. I get sad. Even though I make these holidays better than any I ever experienced as a child. More love, more affection, more gratitude, lovely food and retro atmosphere. I still end up grieving my grandmother and the loss of my marriage. I don't miss the man so much as the unit, the whole, something not broken. That's what I grieve, promises broken. Silly of me to be concerned about things lost rather than what I've gained. I must, must do better. What I have is so much more than I ever imagined and life is not a fairy tale.
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I've discovered the perfect cocktail to prep for a bj...hot buttered rum. I made this ridiculous roll of butter, brown sugar, cinnamon, ginger, and cloves. Tucked in the frig and you slice off a wedge when you need something divine....a T or two of that, a full half mug of Captn Morgans, and hot water. Mmmmmm.....it leaves me buzzed enought that I can't wait to lose a few items of clothing, mouth and throat relaxed and slightly numb. Silly tipsy Penny tonight. I would SO love to give a bj tonight and fuck bent over the breakfast room table. Naughty naughty me.
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Well it seems my shopping is done and most wrapped. Of course a tree would be useful to put the presents under, but tomorrow will be soon enough to trek out to the farm and let the boys attempt to cut one down. Their enthusiam will wane by the third stroke and they're flag down a nice man on an ATV with a chainsaw to finish the job for us. The cats of course think the tree is theirs and spend every night under it waiting for Santa to bring them mice When I finally cart the dried ujp thing out of the house all will stare at me accusingly and insist we could've waited til the next holiday...Valentines.
A beautiful night. Thai food with my children, all of whom dug in with great enthusiam, much to my amazement. We took a long ride home to see still more lights as we drove through all the little shore towns main streets. It is really something special to live in NJ's version of Mayberry nostalgic times of the year. I did have a woman accost us (as a single woman with children is always an easy target). She was drunk or high and knocked on my window as I parked. I was careful and rather hard on her. She persisted and I began to dial the police so she took off rather quickly after that. The children were fine. I was both pissed and saddened by it all. Doesn't sound like Mayberry so much after that. But we moved on. I'm really not a woman to fuck with and the streets I grew up in come out in situations like this. I don't curse but man, I'm a fighter.
Maybe I should go with it. Surely there's a reason I still have that urge to fight over flight. Some would stay stupidity. But I'[m not running unless I'm clearly outmanned or out womanned in this case. I so do not treat addiction like the disease I know it to be. But really, mess with a mama when her cubs are present, that's just stupid.
I revisited the vanilla site and really I think I've exhasusted the possibilites there. Just in time for when I will have more leisure than ususal and no partner in fun. And oh, I need to let loose ahd have some fun. A vegan spanking is starting to look good. ...someone spank me before I go meatless with him...
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I have a 38 lb. black and white tomcat. He is an utter joy. And as these days I have mornings home, he has taken to sleeping on the sofa while I scurry about wrapping presents on the Hemingway table. Inevitably my eyes get drawn to his state of utter melting relaxation. He knows it. I think he preens in his sleep to draw me. So I take a break, he slides close enough to push his whole length against my thigh and his rather large head with a perfect dot of black on the tip of his nose on the top of my leg. He looks sleepily at me and blinks that slow feline love look, then sighs and melts on me. Really it's quite, quite wonderful. And I am blessed.
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A tiny port glass of eggnog with Black Seal tonight before heading out to indulge my children who have a more active social life than I. Darling Dom taught me how to weed through the vanilla dating sites and hide anyone who I'm not interested in to make it simpler to navigate. I've gotten a little trigger happy with the hide button. No smile pic (with teeth), hide. A pic with a bunch of people so I have no idea who the guy is, hide. A pic with their children on a dating site, hide. In front of high end car or motorcycle, hide. With a woman in the pic, hide. No shirt or goofy face as primary pic, hide. NYawkers, hide. Same for those in TN, KS, TX, and so on. Men in their 20's, hide. Empty profile or not a currrent user, hide. And of course those in an open marriage,..hide.
I'm beginning to feel less motivated to date. I'm back to the desire for a FWB and kink without all the bs. Finally time to bake. Last night was gingerbread cupcakes with citrus icing. OMG. Breakfast too. And get my nails done properly for a month, then it's back to regular working hands. I still want sex. Actually I really want sex, but getting there seems unduly complicated. Men a bit older than I want the romance/relationship more than the sex. Men younger want the sex but it's 15 minute wonder if that. And men my age want 20 somethings.
CW has become too complicated. Together we are too much opposite. Usually it flows off my back because I like him, he's pretty damn good in the sack, and I enjoy our dinners or nights at the range. But damn, a drink or two and I don't keep quiet about what I think. And he seems to get increasingly pessimistic in his outlook and insist I'm not a realist if I don't see things in the same way.
At least twice a week something incredibly shitty comes my way. Problems that would knock anyone's equilibrium off. Finding my ex let the medical insurance lapse when I pick up my special needs son's meds. Or being served intent to foreclose paperwork. Or utility shut off notices. I fix it just in time and manage a solution. But not without pain and gritting my teeth and using every muscle in my body to hold it together when I want to cry my eyes out. Sometimes the tears still leak despite my best efforts but I try very hard to not subject my children to adult bullshit.
Now given this, I need to stay positive and believe there are solutions to be had. I still need to vent. And heaven knows I need hug and support. But to start at low and be told I have to prepare to go far lower...or that the worst will definitely happen. I'm not going there. If it does, I'll deal with it. I'll deal with whatever lands on my plate, but I'm not going to live in fear and desperation and panic. Done it. Been there. No fucking more.
I don't even know if I can fuck CW any more. He's off and on. And off now. I refuse to break off with anyone during the holidays as I think it's just rude. But he remains royally pissed at me for not putting up with toxicity. I do dread the parts of the holiday I have to myself as inevitably sadness creeps in. I'm actually considering driving back to my hometown to just visit gran's grave and talk out loud in the cemetery her grandfather founded. Sounds dreary, but it wouldn't be there. I've no squeamishness about graveyards. But the rest of it, choosing to dine alone or whether to reach out to family I never hear from is the quandry.
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It has eased, that overwhelming feeling that the wave was going to take me down and for a tumble. Somehow I outran it. So much of my life seems an endurance test. My work, my studies, my reseach are done for a few weeks. There's still plenty of stress. And heaven knows we are all under fiscal stress this time of year. I've had some unforeseen expenses and reversals added to an already irresponsible ex. Big time irresponsibility. Lies to children that I have to help them through. I suppose it's just like anyone else. If I pick up one more certified letter piling more sh&^ on my head, well, I might just scream. But I have an attorney. There's a reason for this I believe. And sometimes it takes hard proof of neglectful behaviour to effect change. I still find myself remaining hopeful. I do think there's an end in sight to the bs. And the justice system has been kind to me thiese past few months.
There's time now. To deal with one thing at a time. 2 or 3 a day. As opposed to an endless line of details awaiting my attention with no end in sight. I've gone back to my roots as a chef lately and baked. More out of necessity than want as I've command performances here and there to make my contributions to...I'd forgotten what a pleasure it is to watch someone taste something of mine and look surprised. Smalll cakes lately, cupcakes and madeleines. So few peoplle have tasted a from scratch cake, let alone homemade buttercream iciing. It's so simple for me. And makes others so happy. It's just putting together butter, sugar, eggs, baking powder or soda, good flour and a little citrus & spice. And I guess they really don't taste like anything we are used to these days because it's all simple and real and pure. And I have the best sous chef in the world in my precise little girl. She works for a share of the product, and takes care of all the icing clean up...
Work it was gold cake with lemon butter cream and the tinyist bit of red & green sprinkle to look like holly on top. School was a similiar citrus butter cream on gingerbread cupcakes; really my fav combination yet. I've promised buche de noel next week so I'd better deliver. That's a chocolate log cake with meringue mushrooms and heaven on a plate. But it's been a long time since I've gone fancy. I might even put on a proper dress. Though it would be more fun to wear pj's to dinner...i've some elegant ones in the linen closet somewhere.
I know, I know, y'all want to hear about sex. Well my cougaring experiment is over. Honeslty, after lengthy conversations of what we were both into and my thinking just how much fun we could have. And suggesting all we needed was to take a little more time at it...hearing that he was going to do this and do that and spend the morning pleasing and doing endless dirty things to me and back...OMG, serious shades of ex in this experience. I actually timed it. I was there, fucked and out the door in under a half hour. No no no no no..it took me longer to drive there than to fuck. Younger guys, older guys...IDK...both seem very complicated. I really just want to meet a contemporay with a libido like mine.
Eyes are getting heavy. More tomorrow.
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Boy oh boy, it was hard to wait til 6:30 for that perfect glass of red wine today. Strip steaks tonight with teriyaki mushrooms, green and wax beans, an Gran's cubed potatoes with butter and garlic salt. For some reason everything turned out perfectly cooked tonight, so that innate cheffing muscle memory seems intact if the rest of me seems less so. I'm sure it happens to anyone who has made the same dish hundreds of times, after a while you can tell by the scent that it's done. The wine is going down fast and sweet tonight and I'm early to bed with a 5 am wake up, so hopefully it knocks me out as intended.
I figured it out. I feel as if I'm going through a secondary adolescence. I'm wondering if it's menopause. Heaven knows I don't need everything to work as well as it does anymore, my days of babies are long over. But honestly, my mind is ridiculous. I almost texted CW today to ask him about the status of our relationship like a GIRL. Yes, yes, I know I am. But really I want it to stay broken up and remain friends but I'm weak. I'm still in hold-me-like-you-love-me-and-let-me-curl-up-like-a-kitten-on-your-chest mode. Honestly, I'm nice, but I tend to approach things far more analytically. I barely recognize myself. Hopefully I won't cry if someone says something mean to me tomorrow, but today, I did! Like I'm a new baby. Tender. Vulnerable. Fresh.
I've talked to a few friends and we're going with stress response. I just have to kick myself if I'm tempted to make any big decisions in the next 10 days.
I got a pic today. A very thick cock and oh so tempting. Someone reads my journal and is teasing me relentlessly. Bring in on darling...I wonder if he'd run if I were to unsnap his jeans as a matter of course and check myself. Bad girl needs spanking here.
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The children and I, we dine out frequently. Some know us well enough not ask if someone will be joining us, as I'm partnerless in surroundings that you don't see women dining as the solo adult with children. Maybe I spend too much. Or maybe I do what my Gran did for me with all my brunches at lunch counters and pretzels from the cart downtown. Going out and sharing food and being social is part of the skills they need to learn and heaven knows it's easier on me these busy activity nights. I warn them ahead of time since they prefer I cook, but we adjust.
I took my eldest to the barber today who spent time on him...mousse and the blow dryer on a boy who is wash and wear had rather beautiful results (though I had a hard time not chuckling as I watched the gradual look of disgust grow on my son's face when product was used on him. He's really a beautiful young man and if the looks tonight were any inication, he will be honey to the bees sooner rather than later. He'd rather fish of course, but oh, he's lovely inside and out.
A glass of wine, a decaf coffee with Jamesons...it's taken it's toll and tonight I'll sleep. I'm not sure I like the process of removing this dramatic make up the past few evenings, but tomorrow I'll try close to my regualr cosmetic-less self and see if I can pull off the hair without red lips and bright eyes.
Such kind offers y"all. Thank you. IDK what's next for me except to stay the course until my wild side can run free...
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Working on Christmas cards and photoss over the year It's glaring what's missing. We're a happy happy group, the children and I. But even though my eldest son towers above me, I'm the only grown up in all the photos. I make things happen. I keep it going. I stay ahead of the wave and I manage just fine. There are hugs and surprises and humor and intelligent conversation everyday in my home. But it's all on me. I'm capable and love my role. But I haven't a partner and equal to share more prosiac concerns, or to tuck in with and lose myself, or to call when I flounder.
I'm blessed with some lovely friends and cohorts who and I'm grateful. They claim to live vicariously through me and claim their own lives are utterly boring. I tell them, "no, you are the fortunate ones. You have a partner, a wam bed, someone to share the burden and the joys. I don't." Now quite frankly, we all know my relative freedom can be a boon most ot the time and I did strain at the bonds of prior relationships. Feeling caged brings out the worst in me.
But oh, right now, I've a deep craving to be that woman child of years passed who was treated like a prize. And I'd melt into my partner and my cares would just evaporate. Now I recognize it as a craving for times gone by more than anything presently achievable. But I want. I want quite badly. And I don't do want very well for any length of time. The having is so much more satisfying. And that's really my goal...deep satisfaction for myself and my partner.
And OMG, the things I'm craving...possession...being filled with cock and cum and feeling him drip down my thighs the rest of the day. I can find porn that raw enough and I doubt a partner with a load big enough to satisfy. I'm blushing just typing it. And the sensation spreads to my usual 3 points of heat, lips, nipples, and puss. I feel the blood going to those points and the heat released by the capillary beds there. I know it's a smple physiological response, but it feels like want incarnate.
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Rainy and grey, a typical shore wintry day but thankfully without the brrrr... factor. Days like this cry out for staying in bed and fucking all day, but of course that was not an option today. As I've been feeling sad and fragile, I figured a change would be good. Silly thing but I went from faded copper hair to deeper and darker, just what I'd like to do with my sex life. It calls out for drama, red lips and more makeup than I usually wear. I got three "stiunning" compliments from CW at lunch, and that's an unusual vocabulary from him (or really from anyone regarding me). It felt good. I think it's more than my ego that has been bruised lately, but rather my heart.
Norman Rockwell and all those idyllic holdiay scenes...the Currier & Ives village scenes I grew up with...as a pretty retro chick I actually believe in fairy tales even though I know better. And having children, I try hard to make it a little magic everyday. I overcompensate like mad this time of year. The roots of it lie in a childhood that didn't approach normal, let alone ideal. And I do what most parents do...make it better for their children than what they had. But you know, I miss being part of an intact family now. I miss my Gran quite desperately and it's been 2 1/2 years. I am ridiculously vulnerable right now. So I'll bluster and keep going and hope it passes. I don't like myself like this..I'm still a kitten who wants to curl up to a protector an be stroked and told she's a lovely thing and loved. I'm like a little girl. But there's no daddy dom in sight and really I'm not going for knee socks and pigtails in December for anyone.
However, soon, I'm going searching to the back of my closet for the Europen stockings I tucked away when things didn't work out with XYZ, and the stiletto boots that make me almost 6 feet tall, and leather and I'm going out. I'm giving myself time in a few weeks to genuinely have fun, flirt outrageously, and find that center of feminine power I've been missing. An old friend said to me once that women have all the power, but they don't know it and they give it all away. It's what we do; we give. I'm not sure I understand precisely what he was talking about, but something there resonates. Hopefully my foggy brain will clear and it'll make sense soon. Right now I feel like I'm playing a blind man's bluff mind fuck with myself.
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Thank heavens, it's hormones. Something to account for my inordinate cravings for sex and salt. And an explanation for so much emotion. Just in time to keep me from jumping into CW's arms which is all I've thought of for days.
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A friend tells me he enjoys following what he calls "my escapades" here. I suppose they are. Really it's not all that much of an adventure, but a floundering around, hoping kismet happens. I don't believe so much in signs, portents, or what some call listening to what the universe puts in front of you. I wish I did and was that attuned to energy. I actually feel rather like sh*% and miss the relationships I had, quite a few of them. The whole process of getting to a relationship is such an awkward and uncertain progression.
But what this is to me just a forum and my own version of therapy if you will. And hell, if y'all want to read about sex now and then, well don't we all. I'm on edge and very very stressed. And I regret breaking it off with the intellectual the way I did. There were better ways.
I do believe you get what you give. And I need to give more positivity. And be nicer. And do a whole bunch of things I don't want to. I've procrastinated for days out of fear and hoping for distraction. And that's how I use sex of course too. It'll be interesting to see if I'm less driven over the next 2 weeks as things settle.
Did I mention I'm lonely as hell?
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I still feel terrible about the intellectual. He was such a nice man and genuinely into me or into whoever he thought I'd be for him. It was flattering how much thought he put into it all. Neurotic, but flattering. Is it terrible to say I expect it's much like dating a woman is like? All that angst and concern over what I was thinking and feeling.
So okay, I figured maybe it was time to give a go at the cougaring thing. Heaven knows men do it; there must be some appeal apart from the visual. So I gave it a try. It really is all in the visual. Lovely skin, hopefully beautiful body art, a libido that isn't worn out...But oh my, such reminds me of what it was to fuck my husband during our marriage. It was all about the eye on the prize for him and his own o. Sure these days men are more enlightened, but it's a similar approach. As a squirter, I'm on their bucket lists. So they get their internal trophy if I make a mess of their bed and then can finish off themselves. Young men are rough though. Hot, fast and rough. I can def get off. Repeatedly. But I blink and it's over. And of course young men are mostly mannerless.
It seems all I do is complain about everything. I don't like it so I'm going to try to stop. If only I knew what I wanted.
Well wait, I do actually. A fairly hung guy (really I'm only talking thickish and 6" min) who is a multiple cummer with an incentive or two. A gentleman in the parlor and a beast in the bedroom. A base of friendship and common values. A few shared interests (kinky sex counts). Intelligence and a spirit of fun. But most of all, someone who doesn't take himself too seriously. And okay, who wants to fuck as often as we can. Positivity is pretty huge too.
I am craving that D/s stuff. I noticed a bruse on my upper arm today; I think from the intellectual holding me down last night as part of our sexless (well unless one defines such by Clintonian terms) evening. It's a shame as I could have gone deep with that I think. I was surprised and oddly pleased to have a mark. Shades of the days when I'd carry a bruise or two and my reflection in the mirror would make me smile...
I don't know what's ahead. I'm open. But I don't want complicated. I do want connection. Connection with stellar fucking. I suppose that's hard? I really don't see why. Everything is so much better with connection.
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This may just be a rant this morning. I HATE hurting people. The intellectual was all over me, calling last night after I left to be sure I was okay. I supposed icily polite when I left was a clue? To set the scene, we are in bed, naked, both identifiably aroused, after a frank discussion re: STD and health status. I'd brought up prior that I'm never quite sure of the rules of such things, but pehaps I should mosey on home to his definitive "you're not moving out of this bed right now." I even encouraged him to carefully try out the paddles on my sweet ass (paddles are definitely not my thing, but I do try to keep an open mind). He'd clearly shaved down south, what's a woman to think?
Now I'm admittedly 50 and yeah, yeah, like everyone else says I look younger than my years. But naked, I'm not a 20 yr old. Though my breasts don't sag much, as they're C's and my ass is firm and round...I've still plenty of bumps and lumps and clear evidence of the babies I bore. I think y'all'd call it junk in the trunk..that saggy little pooch that's left from a caesarean scar and plenty of striae (that stretch marks in English). Well what's a girl to think but perhaps he doesn't want her? I'm just as insecure and the next woman with a new partner if it isn't happening. I'm learning to be very grateful for CW's praise of my perfect puss and how I squeeze to make him cum. There's something to a man who just can't wait to fuck you.
Ah well. More messages from the intellectual today asking me to communicate with him, but of course he doesn't feel comfortable talking via text or phone about such things. He expects me to but I get little in return. So I ask this question: "You could answer this. Given that we were both naked, relatively aroused, had a frank discussion, and were in your bed...what stopped you from actually having sex?" His reply? "Tough one over the phone. I will say "fears" for now and leave the rest for in person. I will leave you to concentrate on your work."
Of course the man had no idea last night was the last opportunity for progression I was giving this thing. MInd you his other conversations have been all about how he's looking for a relationship that is more integrated into his life and my intelligence and attraction and so on. Well, I've learned key to my personal well being is knowing when to cut your losses and move one. Looking back I realize I've enjoyed very little of this courtship aside from the look of joy on his face when he'd see me and the unique experience of conversation I didn't always get. I've always told y'all I'm intelligent but NOT an intellectual. And conversational references to high brow stuff usually annoys me rather than not. But here's the crux, I think I do it myself if CW's comments about my talking like a professor are spot on,
The intellectual has more neuroses and baggage than any man I've ever met. I thought it was we women with all the blocks that got in the way. Certainly I'm freaky about trust, betrayal, infidelity. I'm sad though. The intellectual was a kind man who has lived alone too long. I wonder now if some of his deficits of expression were Aspbergers-related. I hope my own son develops more relationships and coping skills than that poor man. He'll be angry at me, the intellectual, of course.
I told him "I'm sorry. I can't do this anymore. You decide when and how to communicate and that's just not working for me. I'm far simpler, transparent, and joyful and this is way too complicated for me." He was taken aback and very surprised. He hadn't a clue how this was playing out with me and no notion even though I was clear. I suppose I should have just told him from the get go that if we didnt' fuck within an appropriate time frame I was out...but really, it's not quite that simple is it? And it's more than that. If something so utterly normal and natural is not so for one partner, then it's just not happening and the connection hasn't been forged. I'll say it again, I hate huring anyone. And this man seems more fragile than I even with my patched up heart. He was disbelieving and I left him with "I'm sorry. I have really tried to communicate with you openly and honest and real. And there are just so many blocks on your end, it seems as though I'm prying...I really did want to get to know you but I don't think ultimately you want to be known. "
And there's an end to that.
And shallow me is here frustrated I haven't fucked like an animal in weeks, wanting release and relief and a few good screaming o's. And then I just want to get on what doing what I want and need to do. I can't hold a man's hand who is a decade older than I to make him comfortable enough with his fear to fuck me. And he calls himself Dom? Perhaps I should stay away from the wild side for a time and go back to basic rough sex and hard fucking. It's simple, does the trick, and no nonsense.
Silly sad Pen. |
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I think I'm done with dating. The simplicity of CW is looking like heaven right now. I want to fuck, he fucks and just as many times as I want. I want to go out to dinner, we do and he fights me to pay the bill. Something breaks and he wants to help. It sounds so simple but who knew the simple regular things were so rare? Maybe I can teach him kink. I did persuade him to shave down south for me and he was initially horrified at taking a razor to little cw. He doesn't find my endless q's prying or overly clinical. And he does love me. It's a good thing to be loved.
Tonight was jsut confusing. I won't be seeing the intellectual again I think. I'm light; he's dark. I get the vegan thing and everyone's dietary choices are their own. But really I have to question someone who intentionally limits his life when I'm all about possibility. There more out there than getting bogged down in minutae. And hard hot sex is just the natural culmination of a really good date. But honestly, a man who is not comfortable with me by date 7 and hasn't fucked me is a no go. Everything but tells me there's a problem.
Pen |
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Well, it's not so bad...I just picked up the children. It seems it's not just us the ex is putting low on his priority list, but the rest of his family as well. It was a good thing to arrange with his family time for the children. It keeps things stable and the way it used to be. And they were appreciative and kind. And the children are happy to see there are a whole lot of the world who love them. And don't we all need a little of that?
Pen |
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I'm going to pour my heart out as I had two proseccos and raspberries in less than an hour and my usualy prickly exterior is showing the cracks. I love holidays since I do them right and I've an appreciative audience for my cheffery. Thanksgiving is a simple meal, made simpler with the things I can cut out given the limits of my son's braces (no sweet potatoes with marshmallow, thank heavens). But I also become inexpressibly sad at most holidlay. I make effort to share half the day with my ex's family, so the children get to be part of both celebrations.
I've had to stop planning with their father who never seems to be able to decide what he is doing and where he will be. This year I eliminated him completely from the planning and went directly to his family. His father picks them up and I retrieve them. Their father will show up for an hour perhaps then on to whatever he does. I'm aware he's presently cheating on his live in gf with another one, so I know he's headed there today. But oh, what a terrible role model he is. And really, I should not make such efforts when it leaves me sad to not have the children here for even a bit ot the day, but I want to give them the stability of the way we've always done things. And my ex's family shows up when he doesn't at the concerts and school events. Really, anyone who loves your children needs to be part of their lives. No harm was ever done by being loved by many...
My friends and co-horts all sent texts to wish me well. My family, well, there's nothing which is standard since my Gran passed. A few year ago I'd have been on the phone with my hard-of-hearing Gran and she'd tell me she'd be happy just staying home and doing her own thing rather than the brou-ha-ha of my aunts place. But you know, I miss them all. As unsupportive as they all are, my giant family, I miss them. I'm fortunate in some ways as there's no expectations, no endless drive, no coughing through smoke-filled rooms,, no gravy that tastes like barely meat-flavored water and certainly no ugliness. But frankly, It's lonely being me.
I'm in charge. And I'm up to it being the head of this household. But fuck! What I wouldn't do to be fucking these few hours my children are away and rushing to put everything together just in time...I haven't had nearly enough sex lately. And I feel a bit weak emotionally and stress-wise. I know I have deadlines ahead and people who want things from me. And I know I've a big holiday break coming up. But really my mind is best occuoied than not. And my puss much of the same.
Dildos and wands and such are not doing the trick. I'm edgy, and grumpy, and sad. And really I should be controlled and glorious. Damn me. I do the right thing even when it hurts, but I think it's time I had something glorious just for me. I'd probably be too ornery to accept it. Sigh.
Pen |
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Finally leisure. Sort of. I do need a kick in the a@@ to finish the legal bs in the next 4 days but I'm ahead of the game professionally and shhhh....no one knows I've finished what's due in several weeks time. My car is in the shop and thank heavens for the loaner..$4K and 3 covered by warranty. It's a PITA but I expected to either be without a car or in for at least 3. So I'll consider it an early Christmas gift and deal with the financial crunch. Hopefully this keeps the thing running for a few more years. And for another week at least I have a brand new loaner to zip around town with.
The pate brisee (that pie dough in English) is chilling, orange/ginger/cranberry sauce scenting up the house, sprinach/water chestnut dip coming together, soup base ready, mirepoix (minced veges for stuffing in English) ready for tomorrow, and crudites ready. Late night pie baking ahead but time for a girly girl break with Prosecco and ridiculously expensive raspberries. The change this year is I have to wear the reading glasses to double check my recipe quantities, but there's old/old and young/old and I'll do.
So okay, okay...now the good stuff...I've been thinking about submission. My dear friend Darling Dom, when I asked, replied "yes, I think you are submissive. But you don't have anyone in your life who is Dominant. And even when you did, they weren't true Dominants. So you fill the role." And it's true. I'd rather let someone else do many things, but if there's a vacuum and no one steps up, it's always me who does. It happened Monday night. A simulation and looking for volunteers to take the lead roles, few would. I don't rest on the laurels of others, so I gave it a try. I don't know it it's age or wisdom, but I usually manage to LOOK like I know what I'm doing even if my brain is scrambling inside.
The intellectual invited me over after the sim. He's a decade older than I and the oldest man I've ever dated really, or nearly...But 60 on him looks like 40 on anyone else...all that yoga I suppose and vegan food. So he is supposed to be Dom....there was plenty of kissing and such but I didnt' fuck him. Would I have? Yeah probably...waiting to fuck while indicative of respect and such, is silly to me once you've established each is safe. If the physical isn't there then I really don't want to waste his time or mine with all the dating stuff. I've a more masculine than feminine approach I'm told.
But guys who are more reserved there I always wonder when the shoe is going to drop. It's happened before. They try to get me attached first. Then I find out they're married. Or heaven forbid, one had herpes...No thanks. And I'm sorry small-dicked darlings, but it could be a size issue or ED. I'd rather be upfront from the get go and know. Maybe the intellectual has an issue or maybe he's just careful...IDK...but I'm starting to thing just get on with it. I did allow a hand spanking over my jeans. He held my wrist. It reminded me just how long it's been since I've been even remotely restrained. He had a handful of my hair; I could've cum just there. But I knew he was just trying to get me going. And he did a little. The endorphins were flowing and he was trying to illustrate I could trust him. That's good, sure.
But really darlings, I simply want to fuck. Regularly. Sex, good sex, is the preion to heal most of my ills. On Maslow's famous pyramid of self-actualization, sex is on the base number one level, a physiological need....like eating, homeostasis, heat, shelter. It's basic, simple. It needn't be so fraught. Go get fucked and fuck someone properly darlings and be thankful. Happy t day.
Pen |
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Lunch again today with the intellectual. IDK...there's something off there. He's mannerly and charming and quite attractive in a hot professor'ish way. I've never fucked a prof though we've all had that fantasy. And no, he is not in that role with me. I'm far too respectful of workplaces and professional conduct to go for fucking in that context. And the risk of getting caught has never been one of my fetishes.
He's fairly sparkles when he sees me. It's flattering. He hugs. He kisses, lingeringly, but without deepening it. And today when queried about what gives him discomfort, I learn that our recent discussions about sex made him feel "pressured" as if he had to be a particular way. He'd rather discuss and share other things. Yet he says sex is important to him. But honestly, it's way more so to me. By now, date 3 or 4, you'd expect a man to deepen it. The kiss, a stroke,...something.
I dated a man like this before. Similar. A decade older. Culturally Jewish in the best of ways...a talker, caring, and seemingly enlightened. I'm not Jewish, but have a particular penchant for well-made matzoh ball soup and I miss him just for his soup alone. But here's the thing...sex was delayed. And we had these lovely conversations, trips, getting together with friends, common work...I thought he was just retro, a bit of a throwback. But no, he builds the emotional connection first before he springs his diagnosis of herpes on a woman. I found him dishonest and chose no. So with thsi guy I wonder...is it an STD? ED? A small penis?
Am I wrong? I know, some want to build that connection first. But quite frankly, I've never had trouble building a relationship that started with mutual stress relief. And my time, even these quick lunches, is tight. If there isn't sexual compatibility, I don't continue. It's huge to me. Half the time as y'all know, I'd rather have a great fuck over a decent relationship. I'm 50 yrs old. I haven't gone through menopause yet. It might all change and my libido fade. It might not. But damn, I want fuck while I still can and the fucking is still good. I do know how fast things can change for people. So I want no regrets and to enjoy every minute I have.
Pen |
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9 unrelieved hour to finish one project and I was so fried last night that I called an old standby for stress relief. Just couldn't hold out any longer at 6 weeks without sex. Still the great thing about a man you don't have sex with regularly who wishes you were is that he pulls out all the stops. It's that pizza analogy all over again. Sometimes you just want pizza. Nothing else will do for your appetite but pizza. Even semi good pizza is still good as it's pizza, but really really good pie will satisfy you deeply. I'm not going to qualify the sex too much...as expected since some men have ways of doing such that involve the same techniques but clearly if I slept with him before, some of those techniques work for me. And being fucked 4X in one night is my preference in anycase for complete satiety. And I am that.
Lunch today with the intellectual, a quick break from both our work. Supposedy he's a top (hence my questions). I love connection with possibilities for growth, sexually and otherwise. And this level of conversation does me good even though I classify myself as more intelligent than intellectual. I've dated ultra conservatives the past few years, at least they've been so politically. I'm more a centralist and apolitical. But it's a bit of a relief not too have to school my features to neutrality as much with a liberal. The plus being sexually satisfied (at least this morning) is that I can view the vegan in a far more relaxed way instead of constantly wondering how he would be to fuck. Still a little curious (a little BDSM interest will do that for me), but the edge is gone.
Stress makes me incredibly horny. I swear the past couple weeks I would have tipped to the wildside so easily. But with one hump down and a tiny flicker of light blinking at the end of the tunnel, my libido is calming down. I hadn't realized just how intimately sex and stress are connected for me. Nothing relieves me like sex. I am concerned about taking on a new steady partner though. As respectable girl-next-door I am in life, I am completely uninhibited when fucking. Noise, profanity, begging, squirting, rough with need...it's very intense. I'm very intense. I think it could easily be too much for some. But then others find it entrancing. So who knows? But I go very deep and am left quite vulnerable, so it will take someone with a dark side who is caring and kind and exceptionally skilled in aftercare.
Off for another day of using up my brain cells...my advice today? Go get fucked in the best of ways...
Pen |
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These definitions sometimes confuse me. Really what is the difference between a Dom and a Top? Or a sub and a bottom? |
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A very full weekend with some disappointments and significant successes professionally. A working one. Thinking about submission. I have such mixed feelings. There are very few men who can bring that desire to submit out of me. But it's there. And when I sense the possibliity of delving into that missed kink element in my life, I start to want. My libido climbs. And so does my frustration level. I said here in my journal that I wanted to WANT someone. But really wanting is an uncomfortable state of need that brings me discomfort. Arousal and discomfort. The craving is then to HAVE. And oh, I so much want to have what I want over just wanting ti.
I'm beginning to explore my thoughts on submission and why I have such a mixed response. There's no doubt I present as Domme when most meet me. But fuck my libido...if I want a man so that I can feel it deep, that sense of want lingers. My lips feel swollen and plump wanting his kiss or his cock. My breasts ache. And I'm all too aware of my puss. I really shouldn't have shaved all my good parts last night. I'm hyper aware of the feel of my clothing and ridiculously horny.
I both crave and fight submission. There is potential for great pleasure and connection. But damn, that level of vulnerability leaves me naked and raw and in need of protection. I lose sight of my limits when I'm in a scene. And I'm not just a player. When I'm in, I'm all in physically and emotionally. To give a man so much...it's doesn't come easily to me unless it's reciprocal and he gives what I need back. But how interesting it is that I'm even thinking of subbie pursuits.
Pen |
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I met someone this evening from a vanila site. I'm trying to expand my range...this one a vegan, slightly older intellectual. It was rather lovely to be able to talk books and such. He's far more sophisticated than men I've gone for in the past several years. I've been drawn to more physical men. I confess at first meeting this gentleman came across as a bit effeminate. Still it was nice to talk if a bit worrisome that he likes the same British period dramas as I. The thing is...I can image sitting down to a wonderful interesting dinner with him and I like him. But I'm not sure I can even imagine fucking him.
That's the essential dichotomy I and others here share. We might be these lovely nice respectable neighbors next door to most, but we want to get down and dirty in the bedroom. I'd much prefer a rough hard fuck with a guy who makes animalistic noises when he cums over making love. OH it sounds awful. But add caring with kink and it's irresistable. That ability to come at each other from a position of trust and care and go where we will...fuck each other senseless. YUM. And then come back together for smiles and a laugh at a bruise or two.
This girl-next-door needs a deep dark escape.
Pen |
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I'm crunched for time and pressured by those who want a piece of it. Last straw hit me today when I see a huge packet of legal nonsense to fill out, no time, and oh...it's just all so sad. I can't help myself. Everytime I get another document My heart stops then sinks. I know this is the process but it hurts me. Heaven help me I just need nice for awhile. |
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I am such a sucker for atmosphere. Long drive from old haunts on country roads...a little wine and some great food. I did stop and not drink the second glasss of wine, good girl me, but I'm definitely in a suseptible mood. The leather is doing it's work on me...I'm walking more confidently. I feel incredibly powerful and sexy. The thud of good biker books on the walk to my door...and back and forth 3 X as I forgot first my phone, didn't find it so went back again, then my food, More mist, more fog and the moisture in the air just makes everything smell more of leather. It's just a night for fucking.
I think I'd better tuck the jacket in the back of the closet again. It's waking up depths that are best left sleeping.
Pen |
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OMG I drunk texted cuck. And had a conversation. Sh*&!f |
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Black leather with a little bling sure does attract alot of attention.
Maybe I should revel in it.
Some one should spank me. I'm diing at one of cuck & my fav old haunts on the other side of the state from home. I couldn't resist with my leather and the proximity. First glass of red wine I've had since June and it's heaven in a glass. Thank heavens my body chemistry is sorting out.
Would I like to be sitting here across from taciturn old cuck? He really was a grumpy old man and I always carried the conversation. But fuck! He would turn into the kinkiest soul in private and oh, he could fuck. I confess to being in love with his cock. Sure, another inch would've been heaven, but a huge mushroom head can cover a multitude of sins.
Anyway, I'm on a vanilla site, chatting away. The TIME it takes! I'm trying and somewhat interested, but I really just want to ask for a cock pic and get to it or not. Did I mention there are always a few bikers in this country roadhouse? I'm having dinner at a hightop near the bar and getting a bit hot under the collar. Leather right now, GOOD leather, is floating my boat. I DO have an ample suppy of truly fine leather; such a shame it's all tucked away like the jacket was in the back of my closet. Now hmmmm...it I could only find a willing, hung, charming volunteer...I'm feeling ever so Dommey....
Pen |
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I feel like a moth exiting her chrysalis. I admit the scent of leather with a touch of Harley exhaust make my breath catch a bit. (The fact that it likely a lack of oxygen to my brain rather than true desire I'll conveniently ignore.) My friend and I have been sending laughing texts back and forth. She told our boss of the invitation she received and was told if it ever happened again to just go for a ride and we'd cover for her. How wonderfully surprising people can be...
I pulled my leather from the back of my closet. Mind you usually these days I am more a wren than a peacock. But I wore the boots, jacket and gloves to work yesterday and we both burst into giggles while my coworkers eyes grew rounder at the unexpected sight of responsible ole me in gear. I like living and working under the radar, the back-of-house jobs, subtle and capable. Holy cow did I attract a lot of attention. It's tempting to stay out rather than in. And slipping on black leather lined with thick thick silver satin is such an indulgent personal pleasure. So utterly lovely.
I can only assume it's as sexy to a man as some men in the same are to me. We had teasing conversations all day centered around black leather and our librarian looks...Now, I've always known that life begins outside of my comfort zone, perhaps it's time I ventured there a bit more. I did start a lesbian fantasy I'm told with my boss....sigh....I'm very much a cock sort of girl... - Pen |
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Yesterday, a very good friend I work with and I stepped onto the elevator to find two black leather clad biker dudes. Late 20s/early 30s and such fun. They checked us out in our respective uniforms of a sort while we took in all that lovely leather. They were lost and we led them back to the main hallway, flirting all the way. I'd likely do something impetuous to be on a Harley these days just for a bit. And, oh, yum the scent and feel of a leather clad man between one's legs and vibration of bike...groan. My friend can't stop thinking of them and being ever so pleased one of them asked her out. They were wonderful for our egos and had their own little fantasy going about us. Mmmmmmm.....it makes me just want to bite something...
Pen |
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Well, it seems I am more feeling than I sometimes think. I have to think it's a good thing I have a heart even if it is far too easily bruised.
Pen |
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Oh I'm just SAD. More like SAAAAADDD. As in very. Silly me. My ex has the children for Halloween and I expected them by for trick or treating. They were here local and my girl asked him again and again. Oh I despise petty mindedness. I'm hopelessly hurt and alone and sad. Such a silly old me. I did wonderful today and then one little petty thumb of his nose and I'm a weepy girl.
Well, sometimes I need a kick in the ass to do what I must. Like horrid legal paperwork. I still believe trying for goodness and generousity is the way I want to live. Hell, I'll get over it but oh, the one moment I looked forward to all day was their cry of "trick or treat" at the door. Silly romantic soft-heated old me.
My head and my heart hurt. I kept working as long as I could, but it's time for a solitary dinner and a search for escape. It'll be a movie and I've a wonderful Thai meal waiting for me to pick up. But now I feel the loss of a proper beau. And hell, I don't even want to fuck tonight. I'm not nearly as sanguine as I pretend to be.
Pen |
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I'm writing so much and so hard professionally that I haven't enjoyed the pleasure of words for some time. I'm giving myself time outs to rest my brain with ridiculously ladylike pursuits....tea of course, candle shopping as these shorter days require evening flames, and endless PBS historical series, Mr. Selfridge, Downton Abbey, The Roosevelts, Suffragettes documentaries. I'm drawn to a hundred years ago as an escape; I'd certainly never want to viist. Though I do love a corset now and then...
Perhaps my hundred-plus-yr-old house is encouraging my atmospheric escapes. I admit though to enjoying my time without CW's brashness. Funny, I've been accused of the same quality. But oh, civility and manners and keeping negativity a bay are GOOD things. I'm garnering praise at work (which always makes me uncomfortable. Pleased, but uncomfortable.) for my energy. I'm a thinker somehow that's becoming useful more than doing. Oh, I still DO, but everyone is calling for therapeutic ommunication skills and self-reflection and self-evaluations. I much prefer to use this forum for reflection over others' surveys and rubrics, but we do what we must for corporate/govt bureaucracies.
The new buzz word is "critical thinking." Educational and corporate structures being what thay are, they keep needing to score themselves on how well they are meeting goals. Y'all know that mess of your children's state testing, the PARCC exam? All about critical thinking. Yes, we all need to know how to think. In the good old days college was all about teaching you think. Now its all teaching to a test. Professional licensing? Standardized testing too. I have to perform like a monkey like everyone else. But yes, I can think. Even better though is that I can learn systems and how to function within them. And that's just what this new vocabulary is.
Many problems with it, but I'm not going to change the world...just try to figure out how to be reasonably successful in it. The worst though is reading. Now you're taught to read critically. Outline, read the boxes, bold type, itallics, summary. And heaven forbid the fiction...add a post it after every chapter telling what's going on, stop and jot, they call it. Reading logs. Writing journals. Require anything and it stops being a pleasure and instead becomes a chore. My children have told me that reading isn't fun anymore. And in my bookish house...well, I'm trying to find a way for that to change. I'm thinking a luxury trip next week to the the bookstore for new material they can't put down. Fresh views. Pleasure. But really the budget this time of year is not a flexible as I'd like.
One more thing done. Increasing stress to manage. It would be nice to fuck, but quite frankly I don't want to fuck just anyone, big cock or not...well, actually, a big cock might turn my head...Shallow shallow me...
Pen |
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I have the best of children. Breakfast in bed after a long, long work day yesterday. Their kindness makes me smile as we banter back and forth. There aren't many mornings I don't have to be up at 5:30 am so this is a rare privlege indeed.
So it's back to the dating sites for me. I'd forgotten how open sexuality is not a good idea on vanilla'ish sites. I'm unlikely to post a pic there, or might if I tame my profile down. But sittting through a date, trying to get a feel for another's sexual proclivities without open discourse is not something I look forward to at my age. A month or two or six of pussyfooting around to find when you finally do the deed that it's less than expected seems wasteful. And then, on the other hand, if it is glorious there the question of why have we waited so long when we could be fucking like bunnies for months and smiling our days away? I'm an impatient one these days. Time is still such a limitted commodity and I, like many women who have ever gone long periods witthout, feel regular sex is as natural and to be desired as a good breakfast to start the day.
It is shocking that I'd rather get to the fucking than dating? Oh I adore connection and conversation, preferable during and post-sex. And then more sex. And still more. Shallow me. And oh, I crave a big cock like there's no tomorrow. To be left sated, to see a wicked smile as I challenge him not to cum as I ride him hard...I love the tussle, the skirmish for control, and I adore that groan of surrender as he gives up the game and cums hard and deep.
Pen |
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Perhaps I lack confidence. Some say I do. I work hard. I believe in excellence and try to do my best most of the time. But I am greatly surprised when I do exceptionally well. I've always been that comfortable B student. Good, but not great. But now and then I'm edging on great as far as quantitative performance goes. I like it but I dare not tell anyone. If you do better than someone else, they invariably feel bad. If they do better than you, well...you wish them well, but wonder why you didn't do better. Numbers are better in books and paychecks than discussion.
CW is horribly hurt and offended. The relationship is well past it's expiration date, but he always asks to try again or do FWB and I've let him back in. But I've been fighting hard for my solo time. I made a list as women like me do. Pluses and minuses. More minuses than pluses. The plus side sounds as if someone were writing about me: "nice, shared values, good to have someone to talk to, supportive." But oh, it's not enough. If I were married, I'd stay married to those qualities. But I'm not. I did ask for someone who wanted me more than I him, but I want more. And I certainly want kinkier sex and more of it as well as a sounding board. But oh, wouldn't it be lovely to share an interest or two as well as shared values?
I know I've old fashioned values in some ways...trust, reciprocity, respect, and kindness. But I do love more modern sexual practices. And oh, lots and lots of it. If it only weren't so hard to find an endowed must-orgasmic kinky man with a brain. Mind and physicality are the best of combinations. And I'm not finding it in these rougher manly men. But heaven help me, I can't get excited about an intellectual. But I am woman and with us love and fucking really is all in our minds. And oh, I could use a proper fucking.
Pen |
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I told myself through the dissolution of my marriage that if somehow, sometime, I could help another person get through it...well, than the pain would have been worth it. I need to believe there's a reason when we suffer. Maybe there is. Maybe there's not. But that's what I need to go on.
I've a colleague, she's lovely, model-gorgeous, and appears outwardly to have her sh*& together. Some downtime on a working Saturday with post-40 women can lead to sharing in the most unexpected ways. She is also separated, but like many, must still live with her spouse for now. I know the purgatory of being married in name for an extended period. And truly, unless you've lived it, without close family nearby or the resources to change it, I can be hard to understand. Your friends grow tired of hearing the same complaints and the torture your partner puts you and your children through. They get tired of telling you to get a divorce and offering up free consultation attorneys and just want you to get it over with. The reality is without money you're stuck. And the wage earner gets to behave how he will while your self respect seeps away.
A woman, once she has children, is vulnerable on so many levels. She will tolerate behaviors and give up her power out of love. Women do. Would I change my choice to have children? Never. Everytime my self respect took a hit, a part of myself chipped away. And oh it hurts. But you're left a bit battered, but reduced to your essential self. You may have to reinvent the trappings that go with life, but you're still you. And you learn to value freedom the way our fore fathers did.
I still have a ways to go. And I still wish I had help to lighten my load. And heaven knows I wish I had thick cocked multiple cummer bad boy/good man to fuck like a bunny. But this isn't so bad. It's not where I'd like to be, but it's progress. And there is that new word "hope" again.
Stay warm folks, turn up the heat. It's brrrrrrr... at the Jersey Shore but beautiful.
Pen |
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"Sain?" Really? Who can't spell "SANE???" C'mon, I know the average reading level in the US is 6th grade, but F&@*!
Pen |
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I'm trying very hard to focus on the positives and my unexpected gains, over stressors that are all too present right now. But damn, it's hard not to worry. In my life there's little action unless I play the part my ex has arbitrarily assigned me. If I show drama and stress, there are results. If I don't. less so. But I'm just so over all that huffing and puffing for naught. Honestly, there are real problems, unfixable ones, others face every day. Mine seem piddling in comparison. Fixable is just that. Fixable. Temporary. So you hang on to your temper and breathe a little deeper and get to the other side of it.
I lunched with CW today. It's the first time in weeks I've seen the man. He's ill. I'm ill. I'm in a legal crunch, He's in a legal/financial crunch. Or one or both is away. I did have the time when he didn't or wouldn't be available. And now he's prodding at me to make time for him. I don't know if it's my commitments or pique that has me saying no. When you see someone after time away it seems his positives shine brighter and his faults simply glare. Or maybe it's just I'm a woman and contrary at that.
I am fighting two infections with antibiotics right now so there's no drinking to smooth my own edginess. And there are too many things I've needed to get to and haven't. I'll have to make time and figure it all out. Or at least the things that are hammering in the back of my skull, those must-do's that will make my life easier evertually but harder right now.
But I've been good. I've given much of myself. I've negotiated and challenged and worked my a@@ off; none of which comes naturally to me. I put on my big girl panties and my very professorial new glasses and pinch my hand to not shake in my boots when going up against the big boys and those who have far more letters after their names than I.
Sex would be nice. But then I don't really crave "nice" sex. I crave something raw and primal and deep. But I don't have a partner to share that with. Not yet. Not now. But oh, that inner bad girl wants very much to come out and play.
Pen |
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Sorting through old paperwork today, I found a photo of an old paramour and I. I still remember the day. I was bereft for weeks, stressed out of my mind. He came by on the Harley and said "c'mon, you need to get out of here." And I did. I think I cried on the back of the bike the first few miles...the relief was so great and oh, I did love holding on to him, the scent of his leather jacket...and really the man between my legs. Literally loves, you can't ride on the back of a motorcyle without hugging your driver's tush between your thighs. I love the scent, texture, touch, mind and cock of this guy. And this beat up photos show us paused hking the waterfall we eventually stopped at when we hit PA. My smile is beautiful. And really I don't smile well...It's more of a straight line with a a little curve at the end on a good day. But in this photo I'm incandensant. He's smiling too, but his eyes are hooded. He wasn't quite the man I imagined him to be. But boy, I did love him. I thought quite frankly he was the one. He was the reason my marriage didn't work out. He still haunts me. I think I've still one of his tshirts stashed in the back of one of my lingerie drawers, but his scent is long gone. So is he. But when I get stressed, I think and crave those what if's.
I am quite desperatedly questioning my choices. And I mustn't let the desire for escape influence my decision process.
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I'm feeling worn. Care worn. Old clothes that are no longer comfortable, but shapeless, stained and frayed. It's not so bad I know. All fixable problems eventually. But you know how it is when you go along with a heavy load, shouldering it as we do our responsibilities. And then something happens to add a little more to that load. It gets heavier and your response time slower. Running on empty right now and I want to sleep or cry. Not that anything is all that worth crying about. I just hurt. That muscle deep pain and sense of malaise. Sleep will help I hope.
Darling Dom was so kind to arrive at my door with roses. Such a charming friend. There's something so utterly feminine about arranging flowers. I usally pick something from the gardens even this late in the season. There's a wee victorian wall vase instead of a wreath on my entry and always something new to fill it. But sometimes a woman needs roses and I hadn't realized it, but after a very long day that began when it was still dark, I need these gorgeous blooms to cheer me. They even have the faintest scent, unusual with hothouse blooms.
My caesar and beef plans have just been downgraded to pizza a bed tongiht. This girl really needs to have some genuine fun and soon.
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I'm living in a bit of chaos with impromptu water remediation and deconstruction. A terrible mess, noise with industrial fans and dehumidifiers blowing for days. I hope it's finally dry soon so I can have a bit of peace. Living in an old home has it's charms but challenges as well. Well, it'll be something finally fixed when all is said and done. And perhaps the roof leak as well which has caused me distress for ages.
CW has been quite ill and he tends to retire to his cave when he's like that. I've no problem with that, but try not to be/appear cold or uncaring. I'm not. I'd gladly caress his brow or bring him chicken soup, but am fine to do as he wishes and just let him get better with plenty of rest. I've stuck close to home myself this weekend, popping out in the rain for takeout and working my way through Mr. Selfridge. I'd forgotten how much of an escape something truly foreign, like historical Masterpiece Theatre productions can be.
I'm tiring and I can feel myself getting ill, but I'm fighting it. Watching what I put into my body. That's food wise, perverts, not elsewhere. Though now that I think of it, I haven't had much desire. Recovering from the usual annual check up down south has left me happy I've no one knocking at that door.
I was finally caught up Thursday and ready to go back to my old skills and start baking, as I usually do when the weather cools...then drip, drip went the ceiling so it's been moving a full third of the kitchen contents atop the piano and bookshelves in the living room to find temporary but still accessible homes for everything.
I need care. Massage. Sleep. Hugs. Quiet. The massage quite desperately. I've been naughty not going to my chiro apps after completely spacing two. I feel bad, but must call contrite (as I truly am) and get back in the groove. Life has been very physical lately in ways far less fun than I how I prefer. But I've gotten a healthy dose of reality, particularly that of fixable versus non-fixable problems. It puts my angst in perspective. Sure I've dealt with a ton of bs, and a passive-aggressive ex who makes everyone in his life unhappy including my children, and like everyone I've financial pressures and quite a bit of legal bs as well. But I'm not like some who can't hold on to the littlest bits of control over their lives anymore due to ill health. So I consider myself, all in all, lucky. Blessed. Now if I can only remember that perspective more often.
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A VERY long day. My work is finally done and it took til the next day I see as midnight is passed. Sometimes you have fight through and do the less interesting parts of life. Today it seems to be all legal and documentation. And no, I'm not an attorney; I just give pay them. But at $395 an hour, you've got to do the time consuming part of assembling records and proofs yourself. Today was special ed law, tax law, and OSHA. I didn't even get to family/divorce law yet, but right now that can wait. Such complicated webs we weave. I really don't understand. Before I married I went to H&R Block before I figured out how to do it all myself and oh, those were the days of getting refunds. Not anymore. Quite frankly the complications of marriage are not worth the benefits to me these days.
That is the dichotomy as men and women age. We women gear up and sometimes reinvent ourselves and our lives. Men are gearing down at the same time and are looking for someone so they don't grow old alone. (Yes, yes, I know...sweeping generalizations...there are many men who prefer their own company as well). I'm aging at 50 though like everyone I like to believe I look younger. But the whole wisdom thing with age...I have some...it doesn't save me though when I let a big cock turn my head. I have to remember cock size is no indication of brain size....
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Fighting again with CW. I have to get it out of my head,; hence I'm here blathering away. He can be painfully obtuse with language and offends me far too often. Now theses are the standards everyone knows... a woman says "no" anytime during a sexual encounter, the action stops. That was last week's offense.
The man can take perfectly lovely evenings out and fuck them up on the way to or in the bedroom. Driving through an economically disadvantaged neighborhood last night, and talking cultural differences, employability, and dangerous places...I as him to move on. Now he carries a firearm so but I see no need to borrow trouble. I'm skilled enough with a firearm as well these days, but still...the man said, "Don't worry. No one would shoot you. They'd rape you first." And so it went.
The subject of forceable sex really shuts my brain and body off for fucking. He thought himself funny. I thought him offensive. It was a good anger base for kink as I bound and punished him. But I had no desire to fuck him. I really need a ball gag for the man. Some men are best not talking. No, I didn't fuck the man's ass though he needs it. I would never do anything nonconsensual.
Now there's rape play of course. But it's one thing to agree in advance to a scene than to actually go there without clear agreement and safe words. It's not the same. And involves some very intense discussion and absolute trust. I agreed to one once. In that instant it was hot as clearing it wasn't forced and unconsensual. And how often do we have the opportunity to fight back as women when we are in a safe environment? It's the test of a man too...my partner at the time couldn't use his full strength on me even though I felt no compunction of using mine on him as he didn't want to hurt me. Any man who is still careful of his partner in the midst of an edgy scene like that builds trust. Those are the men you can go very deep places with.
With CW I can't. He's not kinky really, though he tries his version on occasion. He is nice. He is kind. And he does genuinely care about me. I get to the point where his flaws get to me. I still insist we are FWBs these days while he calls me his GF. Difference of perspective. I like FWB's who actually are FRIENDS. He keeps saying he doesn't do FWBs, even though he agreed if I'd continue to see him. I suppose after it proved so difficult to get out of my marriage, I don't want to be or feel caged into a narrow role. Yet I'm still traditional enough to find polyamory unappealing. It's just the pressure and expectation so many bring into a relationship are an anathema to me.
My leisure time is scarce and precious. My glory years are past. I'm fond of my own company. And yes, I believe you should be able to talk freely with your friends whether there be benefits there or not. But really, there are conversations I can have with some friends that I can't have with others. My other soccer mom friends do not discuss sex except how their husbands want it and they put up with it if they must. My professional friends discuss it all as we it see it all in our industry and nothing embarrasses us. My kinky friends, the same, but then I'm not going to talk to them about a particularly visceral procedure. We all fill different roles and what's appropriate discussion in some roles isn't in others.
I prefer to be with people who have range. We all have complicated and diverse lives and interests: mine is not an exception. It's freeing and mutually supportive to talk it all out. And yes, I confess, I love to discuss sex. I've always been one to keep my own counsel with what others tell me of their secrets. Some of us are into things that others truly find incomprehensible. I have a few of those myself. To each his own, yes. Perhaps I shouldn't have given CW such a hard time; but damn the man ruins the mood and selfish me wants to have dinner and drinks, fuck hard, and snuggle in. I despise sharing a celibate bed. And ooooooh, I get furious at fucked up opportunities for fucking even if we did twice in the AM. I STILL crave a night of endless fucking and waking up too sore to walk.
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Thank y'all for celebrating my real victory with me.
I played hooky today and spent my morning fucking. CW pulled out all the stops and got as kinky as he gets. We took a break for brunch and ran into Darling Dom. I owe DD about a thousands pies for his continuting help. And I've promised him one if he goes to the doctor to look deeper at his health complaints. He's my dearest friend and I worry about him. The man is real and kind and the best of men. But y'all know the macho refrain about not having the time to go to the doctor. I'd rather his wake up call not be a sentinel event. So darling Dom, if you're reading, think PIE and get yourself there...not just for a sniffle but for the rest of your concerns.
Ooops, I got off the subject of fucking (yes, I know that's what you'd all rather I discuss). LInens in ruins and in the laundry as I type. Even the floor was slippery after round 2. I'm a loud one. I do hope I left the windows closed. CW did something so out of character that I've wanted forever...and it was skyrocketing for me. Odd really, my old (literally as well as former) cuck texted late last night. And CW performed an act on me that the old cuck used to live for. It was unbearably erotic. So much so that afterward I could come from a kiss. And it's been a long time since I've managed that.
It's good to know my sexuality is still intact. I'd thought this disease process combined with my age was taking that from me. As a woman who spent far too many years with an unskilled lover/husband, it's important to me. I think proper O's are the best exercise for lungs and heart and head there is. And right now from breasts down I'm loose and sated. It's all about managing stress these days. And mine can be huge, but now there's one very large problem no longer looming. Perhaps we really can work our way out of the most tangled webs to freedom.
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Tears and laughter at the same time today. Of course it's never for certain until it's signed and sealed, but I received a preliminary decision on a long standing legal issue. I've grown accustomed in the decade plus since my life as I thought it was imploded to expect the worst. Unbelievably today my news was as good as it gets. It's a game changer. My future, instead of being something I'd have to spend my life working my way out of, has hope.
I've lamented my the lack of hope before. I cry now and laughter just bubbles up through my tears; it's the oddest combination of emotion Relief. Disbelief. A sense of possiblility. Weight lifting off my shoulders. Awe. Truly I am in awe that I just might end up in a better place after all than I expected. I'm a planner of course, always like to be prepared for the worst. But this...this is karma come to roost.
I grew up in a few different Christian traditions. Punishment for sins has long been a belief. Sure you can ask and receive forgiveness, but I always believed when I suffered it was because I deserved it and did someting wrong. Maybe that's not even a Chrstian thing, but my familiy's system. My childhood was something to be endured and my presence in both my parents and my gran's life seemed to always be probational based on being their versions of perfect. I learned to hide emotion, impeccable manners, to make sure I never gave cause for the neighbors to talk, work hard and do my share, show appreciation for everything given to me and to never ever ask for anything.
Hard lessons can serve one well. My Gran used to say that I wasn't "brought" up, I was "dragged" up. But I made it to college and after that things started to get amazing. Princess, queen bee, amazing. I felt then that I paid for it all with suffering and I deserved/earned the good. There's this belief that the betrayals, the decade of sh%&, were because I did something wrong and deserved it. Makes no sense I know. But it's there.
So on some level, I feel I've paid those dues and maybe now this is the start of good. I really have tried to live a genuine moral be-nice-to-others sort of life. But I fuck up on occasion. And positivity can be a struggle in the middle of the adversarial bs I find myself now. But dammit, I try. And I try. And I keep on trying even when I'm crying so many tears I feel I'm melting.
I'm trying to not feel victorious my ex lost this one and I came out ahead. But part of me says "take that, you a@@h*&#. Because I do believe karma can be a bitch and what you dish out will come back to you in spades. And I do believe the Golden Rule of doing unto others as you'd have them do unto you. It's faulty logic, I know. But oh, if it were only that simple. Folks don't help me as often as I help them. But then I don't ask for much from the people I love.
I feel like I've been hiding, crouched, trying to protect my back from the next blow and suddenly I'm not...and I'm safe, secure, and with the glimmerings of a new emotion..hope. Thank you karma.
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Still going strong. And oh boy, it feels good to feel STRONG. It's been awhile and I'd forgotten myself at my indomitable best. Now if I could only keep up my best for myself rather than others. I'm finding working weekends a better choice than I'd thought it would be. No parking issues. Quieter. I just have to get better at being an older dog doing far newer tricks.
I completely want to fuck tonight. Hell, given a choice...I'd fuck all night. There's a desire to grab onto life and hold it, to celebrate it while I'm still able-bodied and younger than I've given myself credit for being. I'm old enough to have developed some wisdom, but young enough to be able to still enjoy the more physical of pursuits. I crave noise, moans, feeling my heart pound, and feeling my whole body clench and release....Some days we all just need to feel ALIVE.
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Better, thank heavens. I actually thought of up and quitting it all. The thought of it made me smile. But then I'd realized I'd be left wtih the question of what tot do next all the same...whereas now I'm already doing it. So I'm staying the course for now and progressing in my usual tortoise speed. I've caused some trouble and made some work for some folks who won't thank me for it. But as they say, it's not personal; it's business. I hate that statement, but have found it to be true as I sort through a myriad of redtape and bureaucracy.
Thank heavens I'm having sex again. The nights I've invited CW over have been misery...mostly because of the pain that catches up with me about 10:30 pm every night. I'm still unsure if it's a side effect of the disease process or the medication. But since this isn't something you can really overdose easily on, I changed my dose to see if the pain can be staved off. I have learned to live with it when I'm alone in my bed...go to bed early and sleep through the worst of it. But when anything fucks with my schedule, including fucking itself, I end up in the middle of pain and can't even be touched. It's as if my skin is made of glass. I feel absolutely shatterable. I'm told it takes time to get this particular med right so I'm hanging it as the positive effects are worth a little pain. Just having my brain fog and memory blips gone is amazing. Nothing seems the sheer effort it used to be and my productivity is way up.
I can hear y'all...she stared talking about sex...where did the sex go? The sex has shifted to nooners. I miss lunch, but CW is happy and my body is happy. Today I texted the man that I was getting out the wand and gigantor...would he rather come over? He seems rather delighted to be treated like meat. Men seem to take to objectification far better than women. CW revels in it. The rougher I am to him the better. Plus there are such bonueses to working through the rest of my day without a twinge from my southern regions. I always feel healthier when well fucked. But then who doesn't?
An evening free and solo. Peaceful and rejuvenating though I can't wait to feel my bed now. It's approaching my 10:30 pm witching hour. I did finally have time to shoot today...the best of stress relief. Sex and target shooting...Add a goodnight's sleep and work weekend or not, I'll have all I need to hopefully deliver my A game.
The rest of y'all, enjoy the pleasures of not having to work weekends it that's you...and get yourselves properly laid...(Smile)
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It's been a struggle, these last days. I try to compartmentalize and tuck the fear and down right fury in a little box but inevitably the emotion seeps out like tears. And the tears! Far too many; I'm reactive to the tenth degree these days. Yeah, yeah, I hear my fellow sisters thinking HORMONES. Sure, that's a contributor. But I think primary is an adversarial relationship and my inability to keep my equilibrium. Now this ex is my children's father so finding a working medium is necessary but oh...(think a long, long exhalation oooooohhhhhhh)...it's fucking brutal and my heart is going to bear some scars from this.
I don't love the man. There's sadness that I couldn't give my children an intact family. I did wait a decade before marrying the man, then 5 years until I was sure we were solid to have children. My greatest fear was that I'd end up a single parent. So much so that I nearly chose not to have children. Well here I am and quite frankly I prefer it this way. Conflict is minimal. The children and a more a team than a monarchy with a ruling king and queen. And collectively we talk about the hard parts of this and shed tears. And hug and find a solution to feel better. Last night's cure was my daughter's brilliant idea...rocky road ice-cream topped with a few pieces of chocolate. She's convinced chocolate is a master cure and quite frankly it worked to get us past the bumps. I'd finally told them their father and I were divorcing even though we've lived separate lives forever.
So change is afoot and it rarely comes without discomfort. But now, right now, discomfort seems woefully inadequate to describe this. I am going to have to be a bitch for lack of a better word. Adversarial relationships are not my forte, but I've stood up to bullies before. I'm shaking in my boots, but I don't back down from what I know to be right or necessary. But the emotional toll is tremendous. Send me some love folks, I need it. And hell, it would be nice to be able to fuck again; I seem to have lost my mojo.
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I love diners, especially the few truly GOOD ones left. Just finished grapefruit and a naughty pork roll sandwich...there's balance there...I did eat ALL the grapefruit. All the sandwich too...LOL. I've met kinksters at this particular diner before; I can see the booth we sat and flirted and talked. In this instance it was a couple, back in my cuckfemme days. They're fun and nice and hold more swinger'ish parties in their home in Northern Jersey. A wee older than I, they're a hospitable couple who work hard to pursue their interests. I can only applaud their energy and sheer social dynamicism as I haven't close to their joie de vivre.
They met to vet me for one of their parties. Now the crowd can be varied. Few Barbies or Kens there, but generally kind folks who just love to fuck and be social and open about their interests. I passed the vetting, though I bet in hindsight they wish they hadn't invited me or more specifically, my cuckold.
I am naturally an introvert and parties are not my first choice of social pursuits, but I gave it my best shot. Our host was a former Dom turned swinger with a dungeon in the attic. Cuck and I explored to find a bar with cuffs on either end hanging from the ceiling. Well, my mouth and other parts started to water at the sight and asked him to let me try it out. And there I was, hands above head on my knees smiling as wide as I could. He added a blindfold and pulled out his cock. What's a woman to do when she can't use anything but her mouth. I used it alright. We gathered an audience.
I'm not an exhibitionist at all, but blindfolded I could be simply in the moment as no one else really existed buy he and his cock. You can guess surely that other cocks rose and I tasted several. The multiple partner thing is a fantasy most women have. I'm no exception. Now ordinarliy these parties aren't quite so kinky, as swinger seem to swing and kinksters kink and two don't always see eye-to-eye. But I was a subversive influence and the fucking machine was brought out (I'm not much for fake cocks but it can be effective), floggers and such. My part was really just getting the ball rolling. A very few other women wanted to try things and I watched.
I even gave permission for one woman to give cuck a bj. I actually like watching my guy being sucked off. I can really see his face when I'm not occupied with the task at hand and seeing pleasure on your partner's face is the ultimate joy. However, there's not much else I like sharing with another woman and I truly hate a cock that smells of another puss. There were more adventures that evening and I left smiling and on wobbly legs, but it's all probably in the cuckfemme journal if you're at all that interested.
Fascinating though what thoughts a stop at a diner bring to my brain.
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An early day. The children's first day of school, all those sweet faces full of hope and anticipation. Progress is good. Progress with hope is stellar. In my personal arena I have some progression, if slow, but hope? I wish I felt my unwilling battle with the ex would leave me hopeful in the end. Perhaps I'm just getting to worn down by the extreme friction. I'll have to find better ways to cope.
The cats have gathered around me like a pack, wondering where their children are. Ours is an affectionate house. You sit to read and sure enough there's a cat tucked into your side or half sleeping on your lap. And heaven forbid disturb a contented purring cat. We just sit as long as we can until the cat choses to move. It's a good life for the furries.
I keep hearing the refrain "I bet you're happy school is starting." But truly, I'm not. Other people's rules and schedules and assignments as opposed to roadtrips and not worrying so much about bedtimes or when I serve dinner...And my chldren are quite lovely people. Sometimes they butt heads but more often they help each other and disucss their experiments or the things they are building or loan books or watch movies together. I think quite frankly they team up and elect a spokesperson to get the activities they want to do done. I miss their company and the casual hugs. But I also know I need the productive time their absence gives me, so I'd better use it well.
I am so damned tired of conflict. It's not my nature.
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Do forgive my typos, darlings. Working from an ipad and font that's too miniscule for my fifth decade eyes, I can't see worth a damn. Then I post and see error after error. Sometimes I just haven't the wherewithal to correct.
Drama today. Ex drama. My fault I suppose for calling his bluff, but I'm through with disrespect, particularly for my most precious resource, time. It's getting very adversarial, but mostly I let the attorneys do their jobs and be the bullies. I did manage to get him to agree to some written rules and consequences but really nothing is decreed yet so hardly enforcable. Ordinarily, he's barely a blip on the radar of my daily life, but he manages to f-up every necessary contact. Oh, to just keep him little more than a pixel would be perfect.
Another man I'd seen now and then replied to another profile of mine and I've decided to no longer keep him in the running for a possible FWB. None of us expect exclusivity really in these things, but to see him trolling so carelessly is a turnoff. Fucking others should be implied rather than flaunted; or quite frankly he loses appeal. Might be time for some celibacy myself and focus my energies elsewhere. I'll just have to find a way to relax....shooting bullseyes should help.
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Many liquids taste, well, thick, to me these days. It's either a symptom of hypothyroidism or the medication for such. So I've switched to carbonated beverages, not usually my fav....seltzer instead of tea in the morning and either a dark & stormy (gingerbeer, lemon and dark dark rum) or champagne with whatever fruit is on hand (usually white peaches or raspberries). I suppose I've always been sensitive to texture, but who knew my mouth was too? Although thinking ot the bj's I've given, perhaps I never gave my mouth enough credit for it's sensitivity. I can actually squirt from giving the right man a bj if I'm motivated enough.
Talking to Darling Dom today we both mentioned how much we need and enjoy our own company. Of coursse, I find I crave a partner to share elements of that alone time too. Then If I have someone, I crave solo. We are such contrary creatures.
I saw CW Friday eve and let him stay even though it's uncomfortable for me. I prefer to have my bed to myself so I can starfish in my sleep and take up every corner. No sex, though I'd planned to. There's a problem with the Irish Riviera's culture of drinking....as you get older, you can drink or you can fuck. Try to do both and it's not so easy. Quite frankly I'd rather limit the alcohol and fuck all night, but I didn't. I think I need a FWB, but I doubt I have time for even that. I do know that I can't listen to the same conversation. CW is kind and caring. His profession is demanding physically but not much of a mental challenge. Hence it's the same conversation. He doesn't do movies or books or have interests aparts from a narrow few. I share one or two with him, but really he is not the escape I need even though I value his friendship.
I'm craving a bit more kink and deep dark satisfactions. But you know what they say about a bird in the hand...
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There's still a core of the romantic left in me. I don't want forevers and certainly not marriage. But I do want connection. And I want those transcendental moments that make the best of memories. It could be words. Or a place you share. Or moments. Or an experience. But what I remember most is what I experience physically. I can remember how a particular cock fills my mouth or puss. I can remember being tied and fucked. I can remember the precise sensations I felt. Or the texture of a particular man's skin. Or a scent. Or the noises he made when he cums.
But what I don't remember is pain. My head and heart forgets pain. I can rationally understand relationships that were not ultimately good for me. And I keep track of the facts and remind myself so I don't get reinvolved. Though I cognitively know I was hurt, I remember the great parts. And there lies the romantic in me. Because repetition of the few great moments I long for. There is cock or two I miss. And heaven knows I miss a man who can cum great big loads and fill me. But even more I miss the man I can make cum so hard his voice fills the room.
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Who knew bluefish could taste good? Now it's a process to get there, but OMG it might have been my best fish dinner yet. Of course bleedling them out and fileting them right on the boat helps. As does a milk soak. I'm stunned. Usually the best way to eat a bluefish to me is to simply throw it away, they're that oily and fishy. But tonight, I conquered blues. At least in the kitchen.
Otherwise things long awaited are coming together, but there will be a price to pay. I crave simpler. But that's not what I've got. So time to make the best of it all.
And then there's CW who on his second scotch, has sent me a pic of his cock in the bathtub claiming 7 1/2 inches. He's been very charming and helpful lately and I feel like an ogre sometimes at how I keep pushing him away. I haven't fucked the man in three weeks and don't necesarily feel the need to. Though I feel we are better friends than ever before. If only I wanted to fuck my friends. But no, I want fucking to be unpredictable and change a little each time, so I never quite know what's next. And heaven knows I want long hard sustained fucking...but no one can do that for long...
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Nice and sweet took a holiday. I had to atage a rebellion of sorts over health and safety issues of my children (and of course the economic component. It meant a firm calm stance, confrontation, and taking the consequences. First time I've ever been called a c*&% in my hearing. Quite frankly not a word I'd expect to hear from my ever increasingly metrosexual passive aggressive ex. It was a public stand and I was subject to threats, most involving restraining orders or threats of my arrest. I know the law and that they were empty. I behaved well, more passive resistance and pleansantries, but I was not moving until resolution was found.
I was SHAKING in my flipflops. Truly. But I'm beginning to understand what it really meant by "business not personal." As much as I dislike my ex, I didn't proceed out of the desire to make his life miserable. The last thing I wanted to do was be there. But I actually HAD to effect action. Did it work? Yes. And the big issues will be addressed. Will there be a price? Oh yeah, he's going to make my life hell over the next few weeks/months. But it's not like he doesn't do that anyway.
It's a lot. And it's always something, so maybe I'm inured to the sheer volume of things that get fucked up and general assholery. This new med has some stellar effects, I can let go easier and worry less. Still can't sleep. And the muscle/joint pain remain a tough thing to deal with. But my eyes don't hurt at all anymore. I'm rarely hungry, so it takes something really good to even get me to eat. And god knows I have not more patience for assholes. There's a great big world out there of people, and plenty of them are genuine and nice. Decide early and move on.
I've really taken to heart the notion of 60 seconds of happiness I lose forever if I spend it pissed off or in misery. Time is the one resource we can't make more of, so use it well and for heavens sake, try to enjoy the good.
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A rather nice day, even it if did involve far too much time in one of the attorneys' offices that I'll pay for up the a@@. But then the ex has well and truly tortured me more enough to piss off my attorney more than me...The next legalese letter the ex gets should do the trick. But the damn cost...Well, one day it'll all be worth it. The man holds me financial hostage until utilities are shut off, a car once repo'ed, and I sweat out checks he's okay'ed for medical expenses that he doesn't cover. It's the game of course. He wants to humiliate and embarrass me and he does so quite effectively. I don't actually want to do the same to him: I'd just like him to do what he says and leave me the fuck alone. I'd happily do the same. Whew! THAT's all out.
Date tonight. I agreed to dinner with CW. He'll probably pull out all the stops fucking if I go there. And I probably will. I need to O like there's no tomorrow. I told him he must intergrate more of his other social network into our relationship if he wants to continue. I've done so and reciprocation is so much what I'm about. He tells me they are so un PC versus my "niceness." OMFG...there's that same old adjective that really is the most pathetic complement out there. Really anyone, does it warm your heart to be called "nice?" Or is it akin to being called a sucker without a spine? Well, I've agreed to go and am more than prepared for any fireworks. I might be nice, but I tend to attack fast when intentional offense is given.
I shook off the dusty of the attorney's conference room with mini gold, lunch overlooking the ocean, and a few games with 2 of my children and oh, it was fun. We even got rained on...those big thick drops that leave you dripping. I love getting caught in the rain. Hell, I love almost everything about rain, except for the current leaks in my roof. Driving in less than pretty weather is ideal for me. I just miss my last home's covered porch where I could sit while the rain waterfalled off the roof around me.
Decent times are ahead. I have to plan more and better.
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I had a date, though really what need is a date if I only want to fuck him. I've decided younger...now not under 35, but (I'm sorry you fine men my age) they tend to get hard and stay hard. The penetrative part of fucking is my fav of course...and necessary for those g-spot O's.
D, who I've seen a few times, is delightful. He hosts in a house clearly his own. He has a son. And our professions coinside enough to make conversation easy and of great interest. He's fit, but softened with age. Not a tall man in either height or size. I do find "grower instead of showers" fascinating. It's a magic wand that appears at the touch of my mouth. And yes, he's younger, but not much. It's so easy to fuck and leave. Ugh, that sounds so unlike me and callous. But it's what we both want. I fuck and then I giggle with happiness. We talk, exchange heartfelt thanks, and then I can go home to my own bed in peace. Or insominia as the case may be lately.
I've learned the meds the specialist has me on is the culprit for wakefulness as well as the killer muscle and joint pain. Of course I frustrate my friends with my refusal to take anti-inflamatories too. My mantra of "pain is a message" and I want to hear what my body is saying, not mask it...drives them up the wall. I absolutely hate pharmaceuticals, legal or otherwise, and it's a real struggle to get me to consume them. This one, I concede is working. Energy, the mind fog is retreating...I'm still somewhat reactive but the sloughs aren't so deep. Moving faster and letting go of more. Time will tell. I dread the thought of being on any med for the rest of my life, but for quality of life as some of us age, we pay that price.
CW has his share of endocrine system disorders, so he's been an education. And mine is one of his meds. He keeps wanting to "talk." The poor man. He's so damn nice. And he says the same about me, but I'm not as nice as people seem to think I am. Perpetually underestimated, that's me. I wonder what I've done to him. The man who doesn't do "FWB" offered it. Or if I "ever want to go to dinner." When I told him FWB is not exclusive usually, he replied that he knows but perhaps we could talk about it and I could do something sexual with someone once a month or so. OMG...have I started him towards cuckolding? I finally admitted the sex he thought stellar was less so for me. And I need kinky. Well, not even kinky...but something that is not the same every time. I don't want sex if I can predict step by step what's next. I can do all that myself with a dildo and a wand and It's a sad substituion. These are the times I miss that damn cuck...we never knew where we were going sexually on any given night. Each time it was new and different and mostly fucking awesome...the fucking part. The relationship. not so much.
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I love my Hemmingway room. It's a pleasure to look at the gateleg table, full of history...rescued by an old family friend, then my Gran's, and now mine. Perhaps I'll grow old like my table...worn at the edges, patina'ed, able to fold and fit anywhere (the mistress of reinvention), graceful lines....you know when you look at it that it's been many places and has seen more than it reveals. It's a mystery, really...and heaven knows, a mysterious woman gets a male's juices flowing. A seemingly unobtainable one, even more so.
I was an unreachable, distant young woman once. Entering rooms without really seeing who was there. Intentionally ignoring the alpha man who every woman wanted. Sometimes I wanted him too. But I was never one for popular pursuits. With the ones I loved I couldn't maintain my distance. I see what they must have seen in my attachment as I have been in other relationships where he cared more than I. Those are the men who have to indulge in those inadvertent touches, who breathe deep your scent when you're near, and who don't go away. If only two people could have that balance of wanting and feeling the same intensity for a length of time...but then we wouldn't want so much, feel so much, and have love stories to read.
I remember a Chef once. Now he was stunning, Italian-born, star ascending, and everyone who entered the restaurant wanted to be near him. I was tall, young, and quite pretty back then but very very quiet. Quiet and unapproachable....and at the time with my husband. I still felt, but no one knew I could feel passion. Unrevealing. I felt a palpable attraction. Now I didn't cheat. I don't know if it's out of morality or odd belief that karma will punish me or the Golden Rule which I take very much to heart. I wanted him though. So I wouldn't look.
But I felt his eyes on me. I was the only woman who didn't look at him, whose eyes and conversation never strayed from her rather handsome husband. I'd rise, catch his eye, and look away. We dined twice a week at his place. I knew his history. I knew he had a relationship of sorts with his American business partner. And she knew he was attracted to me. So she made it a point to become friends with me. A consummate diplomat. Friends don't fuck other's friends' men. It was brilliant.
My husband at the time I thought clueless. But we'd meet them out at other restaurants. When my belly swelled with my first pregnancy (well, second, but that's a story for another time)...we met them again. She hugged and touched and exclaimed. He stood next to her and we couldn't take our eyes off each other. But I didn't lean and I didn't hug or shake his hand....naught. When they left, my husband said to me, gleefully, he wanted to touch you so much. I said "yes, I know" and went home with him. Still to this day I crave to know his touch.
But I'm not the young woman I was and he's heaven knows where and time doesn't always cooperate. But you know there's beauty sometimes choices and sometimes in the choice to say no. I wish I could always feel secure and right in behaving with character, but of course I haven't always. When I don't, I punish myself more than karma could. I feel too much. I think too much. And I want too much. But quite frankly I wouldnt have myself any other way.
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Well, I decided I'd enjoy a solo evening instead of the work of finding a new FWB. There is one guy who's plans cancelled at the last minute and I could've, but second choice is never a happy place for me. I've been reading the lastest historical fiction about Beryl Markham; think of the movie Out of Africa (one of my absolute favorites) and that British Colonial set in Kenya of the early and mid 20th century. You learn that philandering, drugs, and licentiousness is not just a thing of our times, but has been around forever. And societal expectation. I'm a non-conformist of course despite my inconvenient morals, but I play the game and behave against my nature for the social acceptability of my children and their happiness. I'd much rather take off, as y'all probably get by now, and live without the strictures ot other's schedules and expectations.
So tonight I chose no. No to meeting for drinks. No to the 12 1/2 inch cock...even I don't need quite that much pipe. No to coming over to D's house for a nice fuck...although if I can't sleep...and usually these days I don't sleep. Insomniac central here. And OMG, I'm horny to excess but...my mind isn't following my body. My mind still wants filled with all sorts of arcane knowledge from times past that I don't have to know, but want to. The pleasure is the time to read for leisure instead of endless professional reading. And in a less than a few weeks I'll be all about managing my stress levels and time commitments rather than pleasure and joy. If I could only have the latter too.
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Well, I decided I'd enjoy a solo evening instead of the work of finding a new FWB. There is one guy who's plans cancelled at the last minute and I could've, but second choice is never a happy place for me. I've been reading the lastest historical fiction about Beryl Markham; think of the movie Out of Africa (one of my absolute favorites) and that British Colonial set in Kenya of the early and mid 20th century. You learn that philandering, drugs, and licentiousness is not just a thing of our times, but has been around forever. And societal expectation. I'm a non-conformist of course despite my inconvenient morals, but I play the game and behave against my nature for the social acceptability of my children and their happiness. I'd much rather take off, as y'all probably get by now, and live without the strictures ot other's schedules and expectations.
So tonight I chose no. No to meeting for drinks. No to the 12 1/2 inch cock...even I don't need quite that much pipe. No to coming over to D's house for a nice fuck...although if I can't sleep...and usually these days I don't sleep. Insomniac central here. And OMG, I'm horny to excess but...my mind isn't following my body. My mind still wants filled with all sorts of arcane knowledge from times past that I don't have to know, but want to. The pleasure is the time to read for leisure instead of endless professional reading. And in a less than a few weeks I'll be all about managing my stress levels and time commitments rather than pleasure and joy. If I could only have the latter too.
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I'm looking for a truly fine thick cocked multi-cummer this weekend. Of course being a woman of a "certain age" I get offers from dozens of young guys wanting to check the cougar off their bucket list. Now I had a 26-yr-old lover for a time. He was charming, had this delightful cock with a curve and tried so earnestly to converse. I remember we had wine on the terrace and he leaned in close to kss me and I thought, "holy sh*&, IDK if I can fuck this overgrown boy." I did and tortured cuck with it. Once I have the young man fuck me against the wall while cuck hid in the next room, ear pressed to the wall, desperate for me. My, wasn't I a naughty thing?
Here's the thing about young men...they can rarely host as they'll say they're living with their parentls temporarily to save money to do something big, buy a hosue or start a business. The fact is they never LEFT the house except for college. And mom still does his laundry. And they try to converse, but mostly it's "when I was in college, I...." as that's all the life experience they have.
Now they can fuck. Not much finesse, but they'll cum and cum and keep on going. It's more frequent shorter bursts of fucking as opposed to an older guy's sustained effort and fewer of them. An oh, young cum...it tastes almost sweet. Older cum, usually vile stuff. I told cuck once his cum was vile, but again it's diet derived and the man drank far too much whisky and guiness.
I'd almost rob the cradle again on a lark, but I haven't forgotten D (the young man) inevitably begging me to make him a snack after sex. Add that to the life coaching and advice columnist he thought I was going to be for him, and I just CAN'T. They're just still far too chld like.
Would that I could find a nice big simple oock my own age...
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I may be writing drivel, but it's a beautiful day, I'm with the people I love most, and progression is the order of the day even if it's at tortoise speed.
But damn I need a proper nice thick cock and soon.
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Even I don't want to read what I've written over the past few days. I'm changing things around, you see, in my physical space. And somehow I expect the rest of my life to be changed as well, and am disappointed when expectations fall short. I know better, but there's still that center of my heart that believes in magic and fairy tales and happily ever after.
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Bitch fest should be balanced with a similar list of things that make me smile:
Children. Mine.
Harvesting lavender and hydrangeas. Filling the house with vases full and making lavender wands.
A man who yells when he cums.
Endless O's.
A nice thick cock, a little more than 6 inches long that fills one completely.
Walking around sore the next day with his cum slowly leaking from me and feeling him all day.
Lightening my load.
Sufficient funds.
Purring cats.
Having a door held for me.
Help with the heavy lifting.
Attention.
Affection.
Respect.
idevices
Raspberries in champagne or dark and stormies.
A truly well made mojito.
Silk pillowcases.
Really really cold water on a hot day.
Wonderful scents...lemon verbena, rosemary, mint, lavender, rosewater, pineapple sage...
A man who wears just enough cologne that I have to lean into him to catch his scent. Mmmm...mouthwatering subtlety.
Conversation.
Knowing someone out there is on your team.
Hopefully there are more on this list than the grump list.
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Still venting, so more pet peeves:
Men who post pics unshaven with sleeveless shirts, often stained. Do you LOOK at that pic first, dude? Would you date you???
Those of either sex looking for a slave or a secondary to their primary relationship. Seriously? Who wants to be second EVER?
"Tributes" or "flowers." Bull whoey to them.
" I wanna use you in all your holes and pimp you out." Sure dude, as long as I can do the same to you...
Instant anything...add hot water and you have an instant relationship.
Cheaters. Enough said.
Anyone who doesn't do what he/she says he will.
Ditto to RSVP. You know? Respondez sil vous plait. It means you let someone know if you're coming to their shindig if you get an invitation. No one gives a damn if you say "no," it means more room and less money spent. But they sure do when they plan on you and have no idea if you're going to show up and then don't.
Every damn store pushing their credit card every damn time I buy something.
Homeschoolers talking about how well socialized their kids are.
Evangelicals witnessing to us heathens.
Men whose asses twich every time they see a male couple having dinner at the same restaurant. Seriously if you can't manage to stifle your grimace, don't hang in Asbury.
Listening to back-to-school shopping moms berate their children.
Toddlers. They're only cute to their families. Mine were too. So glad that's over.
Breast feeding in public without draping. Yup, it's your right. but I covered up and wish you would too.
The news media. Could anyone just say one thing good, nice or happy now and then?
Reality tv. Enough said.
Required summer reading and math. It's SUMMER!!!
Shooters who do the gangsta turning their firearm horizonal instead of vertical to shoot...
Shipping fees.
And lastly...those blustery folks..you know 'em...the older zaftig women who talk with their hands on their hips to take up more space and try to get more attention as they talk on and on. Or the men who talk loud and blustery and seems suck all the air from the room.
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Random thoughts
If you describe yourself as "classy," you are likely not.
Lots of communication during the week and tapering off on weekends = married.
A man who says "you must know I love you" in just a few weeks of dating is simply using words to seal the deal.
Most cucks are bi-curious but want the onus to go there on the woman rather than go there themselves.
Having time for endless "chatting" online = insomnia or unemployment
Squirting. A man's take = "yeah, I'm that fucking good." A woman's take = "fuck, more laundry."
Holding on to past loves = inevitable. Reuniting with them = "omfg, I'm so what was I thinking?"
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My step hesitated today at the rope display in the hardware store...damn it's been LONG since I've tied or been tied. I wonder if I'm losing my taste for it, being held down while fucking doesn't quite do it for me anymore. I think my desire for freedom trumps my kinks at present. I wonder if I even AM kinky anymore...it's not like I've done much other then hard fucking. I do love reading erotica and watching porn...usually interracial or creampie, and love cucks who do clean up duty. Well that's certainly kinky enough....but porn gets boring fast as do all my beautiful toys. Oh what I could do with a big cock these days...
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Damn, one of those sleepless nights of meandering thoughts, and few of them good. I keep telling myself to repeat the manta: "Appreciate what you have; love what you have and you'll be happy." But oh, horny late nights I want something quite different, quite real, thick and hard...and to be so well-fucked that I fall into that boneless sleep of the truly sated.
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Editing my "stuff" feels amazing, particularly when someone wants to buy it. I've always loved Hemmingway's writing loft over the carriage house in Key West and craved a similiar space. I realize I have room for my grandmother's old gate leg table, so much like the one in the Old Man's loft, so I've gone all Hemmingway-esque and carved a space out the parlor for it. Found an carved Spanish-ish chair to replicate his and brought in the vintage leather office chair from another room. I already have small but intricate chandeliers in the room and can find a few more vintage lamps from other rooms. Art I have. The dead animal heads like the antelope in Hemmingway's room I can't look at all day although CW woulld hook me up or I could bring down the deer in my son's room. I wanted some of his mounted fish, but probably best not to look at them all day. But I'm thinking of hanging some gorgeous vintage fishing rods I've been hanging onto out of sheer love of them...much better the fishing implied than the dead fish stuffed and hanging on the wall. And it reminds me of the old Angler's and Writers in the Village, long closed now...it was a place you could have tea and just BE...none of that frou frou stuff and Victorian bs most overly feminine tearooms seem to go for. Fishing, writing, decent food, great vintage pieces...I wish it was still there. But it's still with me in spirit.
I really don't decorate anymore or bother, so this is an aberration to make the effort to change my space. But it's a new workspace too and the children were enthused. A space for me, for art, for gaming, and work. My youngest looked at it, telling me this would work well when we do Christmas. And he's a visionary with space much like his father...he's right. More to do. Pack up my entire collection of culinary essays to create clean surfaces and pull a great deal off the shelves behind my "hemmingway" table to sell. None of culinary yet...I''ll probably hold on to all that as it's wonderful stuff and some rare. But no one needs encyclopedic volumes of literature and Oxford Companions to the English Language anymore. We don't even need dictionaries and thesauruses with the wonderful web. And really there's plenty more to go and make this space work.
I'm such a throwback...retro in my preference of vintage furnishings over modern...with the exception of upholstery. Comfort is key. But I'm beginning to SEE my home again and care and take pride in it...it's been a long time since I've seen it as anything other than a cage I must live in. I'm trying to view my circumstances with appreciation rather than dread. I've endless things breaking and failing and requiring a ton of work here but it's really a great place that should be enjoyed more. There's something about effecting small change while staying stable that makes me smile. And heavens, a frown is far too natural on my face than a smile...that has to change.
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I've been thinking but little time to write as I'm trying to scrape every last moment of freedom summer gives me. And it'w work time now, selling off equipment and antiques from an old business venture in an effort to make my life less about holding on to "stuff" and more about what I experience. And there's the miscellaney all of us with families do to prep for September requirements (usually buying more "stuff" sigh)!
I've thought of cuck...well, not really about him, but rather how he made ME feel. I still crave parts of what I felt. There was a great deal of dishonesty and misery, so it muddies things. But here's the thing about being a good girl...we have our evil fuck you side that wants to come out. But it's unacceptable in our world so we edit our speech and keep the naughty buried. But with cuck, for the first time in my life I could be bad and he was enthralled with the bad girl. He celebrated it and I did too. And it was just plain fun to tease and torture and be fucked endlessly. And beautiful to see his pain and pleasure and pure need for me.
I spend much of my life toning people down...managing foks and children too. I'm the enforcer of rules and dealer of consequences. I'm steady, reliable, and I fix things when they go wrong. Den mother, nurturer, guide, chauffeur, travel agent, chef, financial advisor, teacher and student both, the "nice" girl next door. With CW I found myself in much of the same role...I'd have to reign him in and that has a woman feeling like a mother more than a lover.
But oh, fucking....long, hard, and repeatedly...now there's a freedom in that. But it takes two (or more on particularly naughty night) who are committed to giving each other all they've got in the bedroom. Rather than the duty fuck before falling asleep...been there, and I'd rather say no thanks and take care of business myself.
My bad girl wants to come out and play. But my good girl is damn particular who she plays with.
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I've found a new interest. Well actually, an old one, but I'm indulging in more depth. Target practice. No, no...not the human asshole variety, but paper targets with my beautiful 50th bday kickass firearm. It's a big beautiful pistol...as if I'd settle for anything less...and the first I've owned. Now the advantage of knowing a prospective date owns a weapon in NJ is that they've been through the ringer to get vetted and licensed and are not "crazy" in the commited sense of the word or they wouldn't be able to own one. My profession requires background checks and I've been bonded in the past, so it's not a new process for me but it makes me want a man who's been similairly vetted.
I did take CW with me tonight even though we are supposed to be broken rather than together. But I prefer friendly. Though really he talks and postures far too much. But then he's male and a collector of such things. Such venues tend to be heavily weighted percentage wise on the male end, but there are more and more women who shoot. He was surprised that I manage to shoot fairly well. It's tricky with a left eye dominant, right hander...but a proper lesson and certification or two helps. I"ve a long way to go but I like punching holes in paper targets. And OMG I love a big barrel and a loud boom. And even better, I like that this can be just mine and I can do this whenever the hell I want.
It's quite simply the perfect release for me. It requires thought, physical finess of a sort, but is so foreign from my version of normal that it both frees my mind while challenging me. In the absence of truly kinky sex, it works for me. And oh my, it's a beautiful weapon, a work of art. Lovely lovely with my hands wrapped around it.
I had to cut the evening short as one of my children texted frightened at a fight at their father's/ father's girlfriend's house. It was coming but oh...my poor child. As horrified as my ex was at my knowledge of his business, the children are back in my home tucked in their beds and safe. I had the man stay and talk to them and he pulled out all the stops. I'd forgetten he has charm. He told and old fishing story about me and had the children in awe and laughing at the same time. He promised what I hope for once he will deliver...a do over of this fucked up evening...fingers crossed. But I was HERE. And I will always be here for them no matter what. And being able to deliver that, if nothing else amazing in my life, is fulfillment enough for anyone.
I will keep them safe. I will love and protect. And I will make the sun shine to chase away any scary shadows (figuratively more than the literal). Damn the man for subjecting them to more shit. But I gave them the tool to know what to do and they handled it all beautifully. We are good. We are safe. And we are home.
I read something today about allowing the actions of others steal your happiness. Think about it...one minute railing and feeling pissed and sad and ill used is a minute you could have spent being happy...and that minute is now gone forever. So that's a minute of happiness in your life you gave up for some bullshit...Fuck that is what I say...time is the one resource we can't make more of and don't know how much we get. So use it well and wisely my friends.
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Mmmm...mojitos, ropa viejo, salade de aguate, salsa and great Latin music....A GOOD night.
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Packed up my small family and we escaped to the lakeside cabin again. A dear friend and her family are permanent residents on the other side of the lake, so it's easy and comforting. She cared for my children when they were babies and now has young children herself that are part of my family. We are sisters...I've found my family; we're all not related by blood but are family just the same. It was just my blood sister's bday and I sent a card out to her; I'll hear nothing back just as my texts disappear as well. Only when someone needs something will I be contacted. But then that's why I moved so far from home and the demands. No support given, everything expected. Damn, I sound grumpy. Usually I make a pilgrimage home each year. But without my grandmother, sadly, few make time for each other anymore. But then my sister is busy with grandbabies and although I'm the eldest, my children are similar ages to her grandchildren so the dynamic is different as are our lives.
Boo hoo, what a sad sap I sound. Truly, being largely without strong relationships with extended family does had the occasional advantage. Expectaton are nil so I can go my own way, nor do I have family bickering or upsets. It's simply absent. Woud I rather it were different? Yeah, I really would. There was something so peaceful and soothing being with my friend, J, this weekend, knowing there's someone on you side. And knowing if you have need, the other will be there for ourselves and our chldren. She and her family looked after us after the hurricane when my children's father disappeared and we were so cold without heat. I managed, but as weeks went by, being welcomed by their fire gave more than physical warmth.
J has suffered loss as have I. It changes one. And I'm not sure I like how much it's defined this era of my life, but I'm beginning to understand that loss becomes more and more a part of life as we age. It becomes our familar. But no one teaches us how to live or let go or how to keep recovering from loss. Some we recover from; some we don't. I'm still making my peace with it. Necessary changes. People gone who stay with you in your heart. I've worked with the very elderly and they shake their heads and tell me that I don't understand what it is to weaken and the price of age. It's loss of course. Loss of friends, loss of your role in life, loss of mobility and sometimes loss of who you always thougth you were. Pessimistic, it sounds...but it's not meant to be. There are a few who remain trancendent. Those people you remember who find the positive, who smile, who glow and who laugh at what life throws them. That's who I want to be when I grow up.
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CW is not going quietly....talk, talk, talk...."But we CARE about each other and it's GOOD except for a few things...." Yes. But oh, those few things... And "Why say no when so much else is good?" The man has a point and heaven knows last night I was feeling his loss with a Friday night to myself. It was still a pleasure, shopping for my family without madly rushing and dining late alone with perfect margarita. I LIKE dining alone in restaurants, but only when the are not busy and I don't feel as if I've taken a full table tip from the server by taking up the space. I'll have to learn to love eating at the bar again, but it's rude to open my ebook at the bar whereas at a table I can spread out and enjoy my evening. I've rules at home about idevices at the table or eating in front of the tv except for rare treats...but solo...solo you can make your own rules.
I'm not really that social....I love conversation but crowds and large groups exhaust me. There are times I just want to hermit away. I'm making efforts to expand. One recent project 9 of us worked our asses off for and we've similar carreer trajectories. It's more friendship then networking. We discuss professional concerns, support each other, but even more talk of the struggles of balancing our personal lives. I think we help each other there as much as keeping each other on task. So dinner next week. And dinner with other women from such vaired backgrounds is fascinating...and there's usually much more adventurous food. It's a widening rather than narrowing experience and heaven knows that's what I need. A larger focus, more experiences, support and kindness and mutual well wishes.
Women, especially those of a certain age, can accomplish so much together. Into our 40s we stop looking at each other as competition...competition for work, for men, for whatever nonsense gets hammered into our heads after the mean girls period of adolescence and college. Judgementalness fades and you wish the best for each other,recognizing that may be vastly different. This group, women from 20 to 50 is enlightening. We are equals and ageless in a sense. Though the youngers sometimes feel lesser for our experience, those of us with only a decade or two left in our careers know youth gives them so much more time to develop a level of expertise we can't hope to achieve. Their focus and raw talent and energy is enviable. But then I know my range of experience, disclipine, and verbal skills awe them at times. Everyone brings something to the table which makes the team stronger. And hermitty or not, being part of a team of good people who create positive impact drives me. That I need to remember. And there's still a month of relative freedom.
I called in all favors medically and managed to see 3 drs in 2 days with one more next week, whatever the cost. I need answers. And I'm going to get them....well, if they are to be found. The medical profession is so much trial and error, sometimes you improve and the why's and wheretofore's are never known. But at least so far I know, it's not cancer. I feel like I can still work towards my goals whereas these past weeks I'd begun to feel all was for naught. I've been so worried about what would happen to my family and the effects on them....more than I can express. Oh I still want my personal time in the sun, my "payoff" as it were for all my hardwork that has yet to bear fruit...but they are first always. And they need me as much as I need them.
The drs hear of my children and the demands of my life at present as part of the health histories and nod as if having a family is a nightmare of stress. No one seems to get that they are my joy. Oh, sometimes things go terribly wrong or one or more of us screws up completely....but usually not. I know this I am their HOME. Wherever I am, whatever happens, they have love and an embrace and a safe place as well as their own private spaces to go to here. And I know no matter how bad, sad, or just plain ornery I feel...a touch, a hug, a door held, a case of water brought in or trash taken out, takeout and a movie, to sitting around the table, we are a team.
I've been told, especially with a chidl on the autism spectrum, that tough love is the way to go. Tell them because of who they are they need to work 3X harder than anyone else. I disagree. He knows this. Does anyone need to be constantly reminded of perceived shortfalls when they already know this everyday? We all have to learn how to get along and be self supporting and how the world works. And often we have to do things we don't want to do. All of us. Don't do it, put it off, pretend it doesn't exist and the problem gets larger and clamors. I teach do what you have to do so you can get on and do what you WANT to do. I like to think it makes an impact and I hope it serves them well in life but time will tell. Just do it and move on. Hell that's what I want to do myself.
More DOING ahead. I feel better even though I have physical pain because I'm doing something about it. Let's hope a solution presents. If y'all pray or meditate or whatever and can spare me 3 seconds of wishing wellness...well now I'd appreciate it. Give another three seconds to someone else who needs help...can't hurt and it's only the blink of an eye. I'll wish you the same.
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I womaned up and broke it off with CW. I do care about the man deeply, and common values were shared. But that was most of what we shared...different interests, different needs, and dramatically different communication styles. I feel bad; he's a good guy. But I was dreading our time together and I didn't want him in my bed or in my personal space. He felt the distance and it made him feel not good. I know that feeling too well and the self doubt that can come a haunting. I don't want to be the cause of someone not feeling wanted; it's a terrible terrible feeling, so it was time. He doesn't want it and I understand that too well...but oh, the talk of how overly sensitive I am and can't take a joke, how I'm too emotional, how he feels used, and asking if I was cheating on him. Well, when a man tries to make me feel bad about myself it's past time. I'm not mad though he thinks I am. I just don't want to give or take pain, not the emotional kind. I wish him well.
I'm enjoying my family to excess this summer after a very hard few months. September will come soon enough with schedules other's make and we have to fit, but this now is a pleasure...staying up late for fireworks, simple meals, oh, the tomatoes and mozz dinners, champers with raspberries, and farm stand shopping. Tonight my version of turkey burgers, loaded with shallots, tender and juicy...yellow tomatoes and mozz, and plain old sliced cucs. This is the stuff I enjoy...simple, fresh, real. My youngest and I took turns reading chapters ot each other from a book he has to read and it's just lovely. I don't want to waste the last month of their and my relative freedom with nonsense and drama since I know the autumn will bring plenty. We enjoy each other and listen and respect. It's all I want from the people in my life.
I know I'll miss CW. Terribly some days. But I know this is right and he will feel better in the long run. Me? Well, I don't think I'm a relationship woman...I'd much rather fuck and have my bed to myself the rest of the night. Oh, if I start next week complaining about long nights alone, somebody just spank me.
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Wandering a crowded fair and inevitably you see folks you recognize...exchanged smiles of recognition with a guy I vaguely recognized as law enforcement, puzzling how I knew him. It took a good 20 minutes before I realized, oh! I think I fucked him. My mind isn't close to what it needs to be these days...hopefully answers soon.
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I suppose I'm a runaway at heat; I love traveling or just getting in the car and driving far more than home. My nesting instincts have fled. I'd rather not cook or fix things or shop for the endless things needed for family life from groceries to clothing to supplies. I return for more poison pen texts from the ex and tasks that must be done becasue of soemone else's rules. It's time I found my motivation again and changed what doesn't work. So fucking tired tough. Escapist me...I loved packing up the msot important part of my life, my family, and leaving for other places. Now it's beautiful here at the Jersey shore...plenty of fancy cars and homes and foks who know how to beahve properly. But yawn. Pretty, clean, perfect little Mayberry towns on the outside. But where's the substance? I prefer, hell, I need, the resources that life here gives me. But I'd rather watch my children read on a porch swing or fish the lake than do more of the stultifying day in and day out chores that never get done. But vacations don't last forever, I'm told. The desire to leave and start again grows stronger every day, but I'm committed to my responsibiites all the same. Sex would help. The kind of sex that you never know what's coming next...raw, rough, sometimes tender, screaming orgasms and desperate desires to possess each other. I wish I felt desire more than the need to be left alone. But I find the fantasy of erotic fiction combined with gigantor and the wand more satisfying than my sex life at present. It's my current complaint of same ole, same old...when I need new. New places and new expereicnes. And heaven knows, new sensations. Excuse typos darlings, I've misplaced my glasses tonight and thsi format doesn't lend itself to enlargement while composing. Hopefully y'all find respite from the heat and a fuck worth remembering tonight.
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Better. Still under the weather, but packed up my little family and headed lakeside for a few days. A screen porch watching the fish in the water and a wam mug in the morning before anyone else is up soothes. Oh I know same ole, same ole will all be waiting for me when I go back home but I'll take the respite. CW is trying to get all of us to his other property, rural, but I'm too fond of comforts like internet and and airconditioning. I've friends out her in mid-Pennsylvania at the lake so it's good to reconnect. Peaceful before the weekend crowd hits. I'll need to get us all away again. For some reason home is paralyzing these days...
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Much as I know better than to compare my life to others, I do and too often find myself lacking. IDK if I'm thinking right nowdays gven what's going on with my body gone hinky. Pain has a way of disabling one more than physically. I'd self-describe myself as sad, slower mentally, and fatigued. Others say I'm distant. They'd be right. They say, if you hold at all to Maslow's famed hierachy, that physiological needs must be met before an individual can meet social needs. Might be.
I hardly know what to write anymore, so much of the same waiting game for the right drs. Doing what everyone does in the same stituation I suppose, playing normal. Staying the course. People are worried. My family. CW. And really I'm worried too. And pissed. Sad. And so fucking clueless. Still I type away. It's what I do...words.
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Despite my new routine of muscle cramps, exhaustion, and headache every evening, I still managed to produce. Now, it's not stress...I'm taking my bp daily and I've got ti back to perfection. Besides, my schedule is finally not at the whim of others for a bit. To not "have" to be anywhere is a wondrous thing. I did mess with some legal nonsense tonight, pulling it all in order...for once I'm making work for others to do instead of having to figure it out all myself.
Last project done and stellar. More ahead of course, but I'm taking time off. It's time to be with my lovely little family and those who hold my heart. Roadtrip tomorrow. I'm aiming for a roadtrip a week to old haunts and new, and visiting old friends who've moved to new places. NO, not cuck...darling Dom would BEAT me. Though I confess to wanting to fuck the man for a weekend and just look at him to see if that old magic is remotely there. The sex was stellar. The relationship, not.
But then there's my faithful CW. Well, actually I don't think he's so faithful. I'm nearly certain he tried out a date or two when we had no speaking/fighting weekends. He's so convinced most young women are gold diggers and has in the past dated plenty to type. But then young ones are looking for a secure man, including fiscally, as they're marrying types. But we women of a certain age, well, we've been there and done that...there's a wonderful freedom in dating men we DON'T want to marry. All those incredibly inappropriate types we avoided in the past...play on the wild side and try out the unmarriable types. For me, these were men in uniform...who wants to keep a man who has no control over his own destiny? While admiring their public service, and their fitness, and fine fuckability...I never wanted to keep one...ooops... wait...maybe ONE once for about 20 minutes....
CW is however, loving. We have the same conversations and I wish the man would watch a movie or read a book or embrace something new we could share. I appreciate steadiness and solid character. But damn if I don't know precisely when he's going to cum or what he's going to do next. And yes, I put down the phone when he insists on having the same "I'm worried about you; you need to tell your doc about these symptoms" conversation every night...when of course I'm an adult and medically savvy enough to have already done so. I can't be all girly and put my head on his shoulder and weep right now. Time is precious, my energy limited, and I want to DO instead of talk. I want physical manifestations of progress, not just my endless work of doing the same ole over and over.
My custom 16 month wall calendar ends today, June 30th. Flip it and there's no July...and I love that. Space. Freedom. Illusionary at best, but still a sense of possibility. I want to take to the road, eat lemon meringue pie or southern coconut cake in a diner, eat a pile of blue claws and a cold cold drink at an end-of-the-road fishshack, sleep the sleep of true exhaustion, and live a little.
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I KNEW I shouldn't bitch and I'd get a little sh&* back for it, but perhaps that's what I needed. I DO appreciate CW's presence in my life. I think I need to be a bit more proactive in taking private time back for myself. I am rarely alone, even driving to the bank for 10 minutes today was a respite. Truly I'm fortunate that there are good people in my life, most of whom are worried at this mystery ailment. Today's news...it's 12 to 14 weeks out for an endocrinologist appt. I'm ready to try magnesium supplements and acupuncture or quite frankly anything. IDK, nettle tea from the garden? My sister the wiccan might come up with a natural healing rite....hmmm...maybe sleep naked with the skeeters under the full moon....hells bells, the more I know about the medical profession, the more I wish I wasn't a part of it. Such endless bs we all have to go through to get paid or seen or treated.
But I wil try to focus on the good...my children and friends in the dark playing ball amid fireflies with a light up ball...a gorgeous nearly full moon, a cleaner house, people who care about me, a yard full of baby bunnies, the lavender blooming, a rather large fat cat who let me dress him up as a pirate today, a good bed with silk pillowcases, a car that works, my yard of giant trrees, the new shiny yellow lawnmower I'm going to use to take the gardens back, and a brain that still (mostly) works.
CW tells me how great I look even though I bristle at the implication that I look better sick than I did well. My face, new hollows, even if my eyes are more grey than white. That's the most disturbing part. My eyes, he says, have changed shape. Always almond-shaped, they've rounded and darkened. It's all so very very strange. But time to take this tired achy body to bed and dream of lovers old and new.
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I shouldn't bitch, but I'm going to because I need to. Four star hotel in the city, tall ships, open air market shopping, pretty good food and I don't feel particularly relaxed at all. I'd planned a road trip but he didn't want me to solo. I didn't care where I ended up, but planned things just for me for a change. My old lady pursuits...gardens, museums, tearooms, far from the maddening crowds and off the beaten track....I adjusted and would've been happy for the company if not for the man's inability to relax and endless talking about his attitudes toward everyone, every issue, and everything we came across. It rained and rained. Although prepared and glad of it cut down on the crowd size, I just eventually got so cold. I just wanted to be warm and tucked in and secure and maybe read in peace. But there's the tv, some sort of fight on, and his constant comments. He craves attention like a child and if I don't react he tries to prompt it by whatever downright obnoxious statement works.
I tried to be kind, patient, and non reactive. Thanked him for a lovely trip. The man who hates to be asked about money talked on and on about how much this was and that was. Now mind you, I told him I thought the hotel too much and would rather do something more understated. I would've stayed in for room service and sex over cabbing in the rain than his incessant search bar to bar for more scotch and falling into a stupor back at the hotel. Now whatever metabolic disorder has me so off these days has most alcohol tasting like chemical syrup, but I did manage a glass of champagne. I wasn't raisied in the Irish Riviera culture of drinking daily and in excess whenever you're with a group or relaxing. I top out at 3 to 4 when it's a wild night and my body is processing liquor normally. Old lady teetotaler I suppose. Just like I can't bear tv as background noise or crowds or waiting in line for food.
What would I have done solo? Small hotel. Casual restaurant or room service. Japanese garden. Tea. Bookstore. Shelter. Meet new people. Talk about something new. I crave conversation about something other than CW's extra extra conservative views on everyone and everything. Fox news is god, seriously??? Who the fuck cares? I care about what's going on in the world but a break to me is a break from as much of one's "normal" as one can escape from. But damn it, the man is NICE at heart. And me? I want positivity, and fun, and new.
I can see the reflection of my face in the ipad screen as I type outside at the local starbucks. There are hollows in cheeks. Fortunately I have good cheekbones and you can see them now, but my eyes are rounder and look so tired. And even my hair, bobbed that is is these days is a flippy mess from the wind. Still it's a nice evening and not a soul is fucking with me here. I'll have to go home and work my ass off soon, and damn if I can't even finish and tiny starbucks iced tea as the chemical taste is back as I reach my limit of caffeine. So f*&king weird I feel anymore...but at last I have time and surprised for my children who get returned to me shortly.
I do hope y'all have a lovely evening, Hopefully mine will ressemble something of the same.
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Well sick or not, I can still kick ass with my work. Here's the thing with me...give me something simple and I struggle to no end. Give me something so fucking complicated no one knows where to start, and I shine. Hence, I suppose my attachment to complicated relationships while I preach simple.
A conversation with my former cuck today...it comes back, the tongue in cheek teasing...damn I don't do that anymore. I'm the straight guy and CW gets to be the irrepressible, can't-believe-it-came-out- of-his-mouth guy. I miss the tease that just might get me put over my man's knee later. And yes, I confess, I miss former cuck's inch-too-short cock. Why? Well there was the big mushroom head you felt coming and going. It's always girth over length, gentlemen. We want to FEEL it everywhere. Length just pummels our cervix...and while that can be fun, it's not that g-spot, teeth clenching, aerosoled squirt of an orgasm. And fuck, I'm 50 years old. I don't know how many of those o's my body has left in it, but I'm not going waste even one.
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Still so oddly off. Not my thyroid which was the first suspect. I still can't drink alcohol. Managing stress better, but it's like I'm half here; I'm so boringly non-reactive. On top of things, but I don't feel deeply. I've lost way too much weight. Everyone is going on and on about how "good" I look now...Is it just me or the implication there that I didn't look so good before? I have more clothes to chose from but I miss the fullness of my breasts. I loved having weighty firm c cups. I think I'm down a full cup size and they feel insubstantial. Rather like I feel right now.
I fucked CW this morning. Meh. Finally asked to do doggy so he'd grab my arms and pull them back behind my back. As close as I get to kinky with him. Fuck if I don't need some very nasty hardcore fucking. He kept provoking me last night, wanting reaction. He was angry at my non-response. Kept poking at me. I told him it was like he poked at my skin with his finger, and then when that didn't work he went sharper like poking me with a fork. Still no engagement, and he got sharper like a knife. I think towards the end of our conversation he started with the crazy women adjectives....eventually calling me bipolar. This from the man who continues to diagnose me since I got sick with everything from Addison's disease to hyperthyroidism and on. No medical training mind you, he just thinks he's right despite being proven wrong as more and more lab results come back. He suggested I take SSRI's. So I'm crazy and I need antidepressants? So charming and supportive. I told him I'd be even less reactive should I choose that route. Happy and numb and dumb. (No I am NOT saying there's not a time for antidepressants and that everyone is left happy/numb/dumb; but it works that way for me.) My problem with numbing pain is that anger is my motivation for change. Your body feels pain and you do something different; it's the body's way of communicating with yourself and I listen. Kill the signals and I'm not going to change a damn thing.
I finally have a blessed weekend to myself ahead. CW doesn't like the thought of my going away on my own. Museum estates, highbrow performances, and tearooms...who the fuck wants to do the sorts of things I do to relax? Few men, that's for sure. At least few straight men. I don't want to sit there like his parent and shush him like a child. And I don't want him along. He wants to go to NYC to a deli and the 9-11 memorial. Good to do, but not me. I'd go for whatever if I was guaranteed kinky sex. He actually asked me what is the first thing that come to my mind when I think about relaxing? I answered "KINKY sex." Second would be extended fucking by a big thick cock.
Sigh. I asked CW to leave last night. He backpedaled fast and laid his head on me like a wounded puppy dog. But I didn't want to fuck him them. I just wanted to go to bed in peace and be left alone. This doesn't bode well for the relationship. I swear if my former cuck were in the neighborhood I'd fuck him silly, leave bruises and be left with some myself. Serious kink, cuckolding, IDK...I just want to lose myself for a few days then come up for air and go back to boring old normal.
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I've been ill. Though it isn't typical, like a virus coming on. It's like nothing I've ever felt before and it is distrubing. There are physical symptoms and localized pain, but my appetite has completely changed. Fruits and vegetables are the only things that don't taste vaguely chemical to me so that's what I eat. Caffeine I can taste and not the beverage. The same for wine; it's like a chemical syrup. They've taken more blood out of me to test than I care for and jellied me up for ultrasound after ultrasound. Medicine is a process of elimination and following the flow chart but so far no it's the usual waiting gave for diagnostic tests. I think differently. I feel less but have stronger physical responses. Crying is spontaneous and without reason. There is swelling on the cervical portion of my spine that has doubled in size in the scope of a week. And my headache is near constant.
I still work hard as I've no choice, but I am taking time to relax. However, I'm not toleratnt. Any bullshit is too much right now. I feel not at all myself. And I feel very very alone. Scared shitless some days. I'm trying to look at this as a learning experience, but I just want to figure out what it is and fix it. Of course the concern is that this may not be fixable. I worry about what sort o a parent I am right now. And I want to do better.
I suppose there are advantages to this. I've lost 10 lbs in a week, always useful. Though I need a smaller belt now. I'm trying to be more mindful than emotional about my symptoms to distance myself personally and just observe and take note with out judgement and elaboration. It's a frightening place to become a patient over a caregiver. It could all just be stress response, but I've never been in a place like this.
CW is worried. Yes, he returned apolgetic, hat in hand, with renewed respect for my demands of respect and time commitments. I suspect he explored and went out on a few dates in the meantime and discovered the grass not so greener. He tells me one of the first questions women ask him (and these usually on the young side) is how much money he makes. I can't imagine anyone asking that question of someone you don't share finances with. As a businessowner he gets sick of golddiggers. I suppose that's my appeal. And I'm told over and over that I'm so "nice." Now I should take the compliments I suppose but really think about it....she's nice and not a golddigger, I want to yawn just reading the words. I was never beautiul, but pretty...however add age and compliments on looks tend to fade or err more on the side of "have you lost weight?" or "you look tired." Sigh. It's not important, I know, but I miss the widening of eyes I used to get and making a male nervous with a glance.
I'm vulnerable now and want to cling to the past but hell, life goes on and so will I.
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Well, I couldn't bear CW anymore. His new inappropriate jokes theme adds my ex and his present beyotch to our sex life, which he claims he'd like to do quite literatlly. Untenable. My children and I have been manipulated enough by the two. To need support, someone on your team, and get stupid crude bullshit followed by "just kidding" is enough. Other issues as well but here we had the proverbial straw and this back broke. Talking to a friend is supposed to help you feel better. CW makes me feel worse. So now he's infuriated. I got a FU and "after all I've done for you..." It's not a personal affront that I need space, but as usual I'm the "nice" one in the relationship. I understand now why so many men balk at ending relationships. People get a little nuts when they are angry.
At various breakups, the men in my life hae taken credit for all the good things and all my character development. They did this, they made me this...them, them, them.....It angers me beyond belief. I work HARD in every aspect of my life. I got myself there, not some falsely paternal bullshit some ex thinks.
I was often lonely Saturday nights as CW works weekends I still go out with friends or dine alone, but my preference is to jaunt of with a friend or beau for the day, exploring new locales. I've done such myself lately as my schedule has forced me to travel. (That's me BTW, eating blue claws alone on a Saturday night at that out-of-the-way fish shack on the marshes.) Is it better with company? Sure, but finding the right fellow adventurer is tough. Ah well, I rather like the idea of being able to fuck whomever I want again. Hell, maybe I'll play on the darkside with a nice new cuck...
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Tucked away in the atmosphere I used to call home, an old country bakery. This one is in south Jersey and closes soon, but perhaps enough time for a raspberry fruit strip and some green tea and enough peace to deflate the hot air I'm filled with. A day spent with my ex for one of the children's events. It's odd to sit with him at lunch when I just want to,,,,well, not. He and his family have been manipulating me, seeking information under the aegis of offering support. I despise manipulative bullshit. And I, who doesn't trust many begin to view the world as a more hostile place than it necessarily is. I am/have been Pollyanna, sunny and positive. But I'm sinking. Y'all know the song "running on empty".....that's precisely where I am. I nearly couldn't bear for CW to touch me, gritting my teeth through it. (discretely, yes) When you date kindly comments on how tired you look, or better yet, you tell him you aren't ready for sex and he responds with "that's okay, I don't mind" before trying to shove his cock in...sigh....
Dudes, if a woman EVER says she's "not ready," listen to her. That's a nice way of saying "dude, you may be hard, but you haven't even touched me yet." I did drink far too much of a wine that I should have savoured last night along with sushi galore. But the end result was I slept at least. I don't like myself this unhappy and I think it shows on my face. IDK what to do.
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Up and down. Up and down. And it's not the beautiful push pull of fucking....but my emotional state. CW is trying to get me to take valium (Mind you I don't even take ibuprofen for a headache) to "help" me. I'm a woman. And I cry. And I get angry. And sometimes I cry when I'm angry. Lots of tears now. I begged the man to leave me alone, but It's alway "talk to me" ad infinitum...what you want to hear in a relationship but I didn't want to share as I didn't want unsolicited advice. If I hear one more time that I have to do this, that, and so on...I'll fucking bite him. I am all too well aware of my situation, implications, and actions needed.
I don't want to sleep. A ten minute nap today and I had an instant nightmare. The stress level is huge and it's bullshit. It's all unnecessary but I'm in it up to my shoulders so I have to keep plowing through it til I get to the other side. But oh, I'm tired. And I'm letting someone else's actions suck the life out of me. I need escape. But it's deadline time. I have to deliver and deal and pull out the make up for once to hide the circles under my eyes and soften my jaw. I'm so fucking tired words for once fail me. And really folks, I'm losing spirit. I'm no longer convinced I'm going to come out ot this okay.
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Some serious fucking. And he's pulling out the rope, if only for my hands. It's good. I've a bruise and he even more. Feeling still filled as my puss swells from the excess friction and rough fucking. Walking while knowing you've just been well-fucked is the best of secrets. He doesn't get post-care right though. He tries. But seriously don't ask a boneless woman to suck your cock. Hell, with me, I won't if asked. I has to be my idea or it's a chore. The best of course is to take me so deep on the dark side that I'll scratch and wrestle to get your cock down my throat.
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Some serious fucking. And he's pulling out the rope, if only for my hands. It's good. I've a bruise and he even more. Feeling still filled as my puss swells from the excess friction and rough fucking. Walking while knowing you've just been well-fucked is the best of secrets. He doesn't get post-care right though. He tries. But seriously don't ask a boneless woman to suck your cock. Hell, with me, I won't if asked. I has to be my idea or it's a chore. The best of course is to take me so deep on the dark side that I'll scratch and wrestle to get your cock down my throat.
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Hmmmm...I've lost 4 rather great entries the past 4 days with errors on the site. It make me want to do my own blog elsewhere. |
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I need to be beaten. I seem to be on a slide. I'm quietly self-destructing. Hell, I talked to my former cuck who I still want to fuck; but fuck that man and I'm the one who gets fucked over. The nice CW I'm dating seems to be gung ho on telling me worse case scenarios and is making me paranoid. I think he's trying to make me more dependent on him, but quite frankly it makes me want to not hear his voice. So very tired.
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I need to be beaten. I seem to be on a slide. I'm quietly self-destructing. Hell, I talked to my former cuck who I still want to fuck; but fuck that man and I'm the one who gets fucked over. The nice CW I'm dating seems to be gung ho on telling me worse case scenarios and is making me paranoid. I think he's trying to make me more dependent on him, but quite frankly it makes me want to not hear his voice. So very tired.
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A very enjoyable time at this charity event with my colleagues and their respective men. We knew they'd get along, given their common interests in firearms, sex, and poking at their females. But oh my, it turned into a bit of a male bitch fest later when we tucked in at the fire pit with our drink and conversation. Most of us came to this career choice later in life; it's important, demanding, and requires critical thinking on so many levels that our brains hurt sometimes.
Outwardly we tend to appear perhaps overly conscientious. And our men think we just take everything far too seriously. Put the 4 of us together and they see the same commitment across the board. And it bugs the hell out of them. I understand. My children tell me I need to relax more. But this is worth it. And we are all far too committed to our path to stop now. But it's a giant role reversal. The oldest of us is 60, her wealthy husband retired and nest emptying. He views her almost paternally, proud, but like a child too big for her boots rather than the intelligent woman she is. There's a latent hostility there from our men not being our focus and our expectations that they take on part of the family and house hold care duties usually just our own.
Even CW and I, the lesser connected of the octet, have issues. His is a rough schedule for a relationship. But I understood that getting in, even though I'd prefer to spend my Saturdays day tripping and DOING something with a beau over my own company. The end result leaves me impossibly horny Saturday nights when he's too tired to socialize. My alternate weekends free seem wasted when I could be exploring. But exploring alone has lost it's appeal to me. Interaction and conversation are what I crave. Just being outside under the stars on a warm night, with a glass of wine and good company works. But I'd rather fuck.
I was beside myself with need last night. I didn't really sleep. Unlocked my case of naughties and used every toy I could, sometimes multiples at once. But nothing, NOTHING, can replace a proper cock. That hardness and soft skin...with just a little bit of flexibility in it....and oh, a shaved man is lovely. I schedule sex like I schedule time to eat lunch. It's a physiological need after all. And oh, last night I needed a proper cock. I still wonder why I'm in a relationship when I'm actually happy with FWBs. But CW isn't happy without possession and public acknowledgement of his role. And the balance here is on good over bad. I just would love a proper hard kinky fuck now and then.
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Tonight I am Cinderella at the ball. Let's hope my prince does well with this crowd. Hell, let's hope I do too.
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Woke to thoughts of cock this morning...damn if I don't need a serious hard fuck. My problem is I want big. Now I know it's more about how you use it than the stick, but that sense of stretch, that pressure of HAVING to take more sets my teeth on edge. I so fucking want. And then I want it again until I'm left boneless and full of cum....feeling entirely possessed and filled.
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Work, work, work makes Pen a dull girl. Holiday weekend indeed. My breaks today were taking my sons to the barber, stocking up at the deli, and mowing a bit of the lawn. Otherwise all reading and reports and brain pain. Movie and dinner at 9:30 pm after a late, late lunch and my household is TIRED. More to go, but what I managed to achieve is good, truly good work, and thorough. I'm rather pleased and less intimidated now that I've learned a new reporting system I'd dreaded.
My home tucked away in wild'ish gardens is an oasis right now. Memorial Day weekend and those who live in towns where tourism rules understand. The hoards descend. New Yawkers and North Jersians by the shiny black Cadilliac Escalade full. Most who have a place and do their thing are perfectly nice. Hell, 70% of my neighbors are natives to the congested north. Apart from the occasional accent that grates, perfectly nice people. But oh, the others...beyond no manners. It has to be experienced to explain. Locals? Well we stay home, entertain each other. Stock up on bbq and alcohol Thursday and bike around town. And avoid the public like the plague. (I love writing non-complete sentences here.)
Dare I mention it's an Irish town? And yes, the stereotype holds; drinking is recreation and thought nothing of. Last night's local baseball game had stands filled with parents passing around odd soda/vodka combinations in those dead-giveaway red plastic cups. I don't like ti. There's something entirely inappropriate about drinking cocktails before driving your children home from such a classically wholesome pasttime. But then these are the same parents who allow their children and their friends to drink in their homes, justifying it with it's better when it's supervised. Darlings, it's better to not make it so easy for them. Did I drink underaged? Sure, but ti took effort and ingenuity and I was damn careful. But then this is a house without violent video games too. Prude that I am...
When it comes to children and those I love, I am the Protector. And I need my own private safe space apart from all the bullshit that summer brings to the Jersey coast. I would love to fuck my brains out and be silly, but I've a few 6 week projects that are going to cost me in family time and patience. And I don't want to fuck it up since I'm performing well even if I don't always feel it to be so. After the fact, I seem to come out better than expected and I'll take that outcome every time. So I'll be a good girl, and a better mom and do what I do. And then I'll rest.
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Finally a reason for my self shakiness. Usually I handle what gets thrown at me with more aplomb, but the past few days I just go off the rails. Hormones. My drive and determination are making a come back. Stay the course, remember who I am, stick with my team, and let the bullshit remain below notice. I still haven't slept, but I've got this. I really don't understand why I remaiin so fertile still. I'm a decade done with babies and the drama that came with a husband for me.
I met up with my compatriots and more this eve...major complicated projects ahead. And it's good for my brain to be occupied on puzzles to solve, reports to write, solutions to find...So I've been invited to a ball. A proper charity ball. Usually I go to the dressy closet and pull out one of a half dozen black dresses, get the jewelry out of the safe, and do my can't-be-bothered-with no-nonsense classic look. The young 'uns, few that you find at these events, try too hard and look it. Stay low key and you don't put anyone's back up, you talk the talk, and my mind is remembered and my penny-colored hair. But this time, IDK, balls don't come my way like they used to...Except the male sort...I'm craving deep spring green silk, long, draped beautifully and no jewelry at all. Just me. As if I were the jewel.
Did I mention I hate these things? Small talk. Silent bids on things you don't need. Meh food. Men rambling about golf. Women about Fendi bags. Would that I could have a real conversation for one...challenge, work, interest.
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Finally a reason for my self shakiness. Usually I handle what gets thrown at me with more aplomb, but the past few days I just go off the rails. Hormones. My drive and determination are making a come back. Stay the course, remember who I am, stick with my team, and let the bullshit remain below notice. I still haven't slept, but I've got this. I really don't understand why I remaiin so fertile still. I'm a decade done with babies and the drama that came with a husband for me.
I met up with my compatriots and more this eve...major complicated projects ahead. And it's good for my brain to be occupied on puzzles to solve, reports to write, solutions to find...So I've been invited to a ball. A proper charity ball. Usually I go to the dressy closet and pull out one of a half dozen black dresses, get the jewelry out of the safe, and do my can't-be-bothered-with no-nonsense classic look. The young 'uns, few that you find at these events, try too hard and look it. Stay low key and you don't put anyone's back up, you talk the talk, and my mind is remembered and my penny-colored hair. But this time, IDK, balls don't come my way like they used to...Except the male sort...I'm craving deep spring green silk, long, draped beautifully and no jewelry at all. Just me. As if I were the jewel.
Did I mention I hate these things? Small talk. Silent bids on things you don't need. Meh food. Men rambling about golf. Women about Fendi bags. Would that I could have a real conversation for one...challenge, work, interest.
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Sleepless or not, I still managed to get more done by noon than I anticipated even with a call to pick up a sick boy from the school. It's actually rather nicer than not, having one of the children home. I make tea with honey, tuck him in with a furry blanket on the couch, and we've ended up across from each other at the breakfast room table on our respective idevices doing what we do. It's a lovely thing to raise my eyes about my reading glasses and see my nearly grown boy, handsome and kind and good. I think I needed him as much as he needed to be home today with the most recent respiratory virus making its rounds.
I've ended up with a commitment I didn't know I had this evening. Work. Necessary to sort out a muddle. But I know my other children are not going to be entirely pleased as I gushed how wonderful it was to be able to spend the afternoon with them. Sigh. Well part of an afternoon is better than none. And I refrained from calling anyone a "piece of sh#$" today, so there's a glimpse back at the lady I THOUGHT I was. I am better than all this drama. And as I told my son, there are more than one of us and we look out for each other. No one is going it alone here even when it feels like it.
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A long sleepless night...My house is full but I'm worried. Much ado with custody, changes in home arrangements, and passive aggression. I know already how thts is going to play out. It's not good. My children will be hurt. And there's not a damn thing I can do rationally to stop it. My children are a unit with or without me. They will be there to protect and look out for each other as I've taught them from their births. I have to hope they will continue to hold and support each other. I don't want to let them go with their father anymore, but I will. He's preparing to set up household with a woman he needs. She, however, has been cruel to my children and told them quite clearly she's glad she never has to babysit them. Oh, my ex claims she's agreed to leave during the every other weekend and dinner evening. But girls, would you leave your home for such? I've seen three disturbing the peace violations on record so far for he and she. I've had a son come home angry, red-faced, tears, unable to speak to me for hours at her words. I can't protect them. It kills me. I thing we all on here get the desire for and security of feeling protected. A proper Dom can be paternal in a sense; it's like coming home. But some men can love their children but fail to protect.
CW calls my ex a pussy. Cowardice is a characteristic that defines him. Passive aggressive. Doesn't like to get dirty. And certainly can't speak or do anything remotely hard. He's not telling the children the house with the pool is more hers than his. Or that she will be there. He didn't tell them when he arbitrarily decided to cut an evening he'd spent with them for 6 years to be able to "travel." They stopped asking after 2 years whether they'd get their daddy night back. But it was I who held them the first night he didn't show and the following week, and again as they cried for hours.
Bad news. Tough things. It always seems to come from my mouth, not his. He's the fun one. I'm the old shoe. But comfort. And that proverbial rock I keep talking about. Why does anyone with children get/stay involved with a partner who doesn't like them at all? I know, y'all have heard it all before. And I'm just as tired as you are of the subject. But G-D DAMN. I need to vent. And quite frankly I don't want discuss the same shit with my friends that they've heard all before ...spreading negativity instead of sunshine. But darlings, I'm wounded here. I feel as if every muscle in my body is contracting to take me fetal, to sleep and comfort. But I don't get to do that. I get to worry. Tear up. Kick myself because I can't figure out a way to prevent more damange.
I know kids are resilent than goodness, but my baby....My beautiful blonde angel son and I attend counseling now. He gets angry beyond his ability to control. And a few time I heard the ominous "I wish I were dead" from a 10 year old boy. Now I'm near a town that experienced a young male suicide cluster for several years. High school juniors and seniours commiting suicide by train. CW was a first responder to one and he remains haunted. Every parent around worries it'll start again. Heresay the autopsies all indiccated heroine "cheese" in all but one child. But what adolescent doesn't have the darkest of dark moments in hs? We take mental health VERY seriously around these parts. An adult can damage with words and this one's a real piece of work.
Well, I know the law. I know my children. And I'm down to praying for protection at this point.
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Here's the thing with older divorced men...(older divorced men might want to skip this entry)...They come out of their marriages financially wiped out. Many declare bankruptcy. Credit ends up in the toilet. They can still make a good income and give the impression of fiscal security. And many women are drawn to older men. Hell, I am.
But many are great pretenders. The ex wife took him for everything and unfortunately he had to declare bankruptcy, etc....He needs a woman for not just sex, but to improve his credit to live in a decent place or buy a house. Watch for it ladies and be careful with how fast they want you to move in together. They care about you some, but you are also a means to an end.
[End of the misogynistic rant from the bitter not-yet-divorced middle aged woman]
Pen
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Some folks are so resilient. Now I'd like to think I share that trait since I'm still in the ring after some nasty punches, but ...well..there's a move-on-ability...I don't have a word for it today as I'm heartsore and brain-tired. You make mistakes or someone does you wrong and you go on wiser. But those are the people with a transcendentent spirit. I get mired in it all. Bogged down, stuck, and the sadness just sticks to me like mud. I don't like it. I want to change that. I cry far too much and too easily. I rail at injustices. And I fight negativity. But I am not free enough to let go of much and heaven knows I need to learn how. Give me your words of wisdom folks, how do you shrug it off and keep it off?
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I've been rather terrible. I feel as if I'm being punished now for my misdeeds. The thing is.... you make an error in judgement, thinking okay...this is wrong but I'm going to do it anyway because it won't harm anyone else. But accepting choices that are less than my moral compass knows to be best...well, there's always a price. One misstep leads to more. It's an easy slide once you start down. And when you have people in your life you care about, well...you can hurt them by turning into someone they don't recognize. I lost it today in front of my children and I'm worried. Was I right to say what I said? Yes. But I put my children in the line of fire. That's something they should never see.
Confessions. And I'm not even Roman Catholic. I've lied my ass off. Me, who prides herself on being authentic and real. And I gave the woman who hit my car the high estimate rather than the lower one from a second auto body place, intending to keep the cash. Ugh. It's repugnant. And really not me. I felt less bad when she proved inconsistent and hard to get a check from. But really it has nothing to do with the fact that I took advantage. I knew she had wealth, far more than I. But still it's a dick move. There was time when I behaved better than I am now. Role model for my children and all that. CW says, of course, you do it that way, "it's business." Business is different. But I ...I don't want to live in that world.
I lied all day yesterday. Nixed a trip with friends using my daughter's fictitious illness as an excuse. I couldn't bear them. The last time we got together it was little more than a bitch fest and so toxic I vowed never to again. But I love these women. I just couldn't use up my little free time in that. I lied to CW and told him I felt ill. I didnt want to fuck him, quick and hard...but too quick. I didn't want to be asked for a bj. If I give, I give. To be asked pisses me off. Especially since he doesn't return the favor well. And I get tired of his words. I wanted intelligent conversation with someone else who understands single parentling. CW is the best sort and he loves me. But the man seeks reaction and can be crude beyond words. I have to be in the right frame of mind to take him. And I haven't been for weeks. Slow deep fucking with a big cock is what I've been dreaming of. And I found it.
Guilt now is doing it's work on me...wrong reasons to get me to do the right things. I needed to be bad. And so I was. I even cancelled two responsibilities this week to give myself and the chidlren a break. I think I did it more for myself than them, but maybe I should focus more on results over motivations. OMG, I felt so free and bad and new. Now to pick up and figure out a way to be bad in a good way within the confines of the life I live.
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Like all the baseball games I spend my evenings watching, sometimes it's kismet and you hit it out of the park. The rest of the time, you feel gratitude for those walks to first base and the team behind you performing well to get to home. Yesterday was a homerun, an unexpected top-of-my-game, outperformance extrordinaire. Nothing planned, just holding on my fingernails and hoping I'd acquit myself well enough. I don't know how, but bing/bang/boom...and damn, it feels good to be at the top for a day.
But now it's back to fighting the fight for my family and the endless minutia of prep for what's next. I didn't have sex, dammit, as I thought CW needed more recovery from his accident than he did. But the weekend ahead I'm taking time for myself to indulge in pleasure. It might be a jaunt. I might spend it on the hammock with Randy Wayne White's latest novel. I spend last evening post-commitments wandering the bookstore, snapping pics of possibilities to download via ebook, chai at the cafe, researching Key West, and reading pretty magazines I'd never buy.
Checked CW's vitals before a late dinner and a call to his doc to determine how to proceed. He's moving, working, but neglecting treatment and his body will pay for it. But other adults are not my responsibility; my children, however, are. So that's next. Sorting out sons and helping them to find their place. Meetings today that will be emotional and tough and dealing with the ex who won't even give me the time to explain what the meeting is about and why his presence is needed. Not fond of him and less so these days. If anything I hope he has one of those days today like my yesterday, surprising us all and hitting it out of the park. Fingers crossed...
Pen
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A sweet start to Mother's day. Breakfast in bed, the plate scattered with candy ala kiddos fav breakfast. Not wanting to be a spoilsport, I palmed it and disposed of the sweets carefully. But it's a rare treat to have someone bring me a cup of tea in bed. Flowers from the garden, wrapped in a paper towel, better than any florist...
I was sad and teary this morning. I'm the sort of alpha mom now without having to worry about MIL. I truly don't want to be in charge, as easy as it is in many ways. But I'd put up with endless games of gin rummy and KFC if I could spend today with my Gran. But she's gone and I'm left. That's the crux of it of course. I'm left. And that's why I get so sad.
I saw one of those philosophical business signs today..."People either give up, give in, or give it their everything." I don't know if I do the latter, but I'm not doing the first two. It was a nice morning. I figured since my children were voluntary minions today, it was a good time to do the things they don't want to. Like shopping for grownup clothes for my son for graduation. Proper clothes instead of dad and grandpa's hand me down's. From tie to shoes to belt, the poor kid tried on endless pairs of dress pants. But I let my grandmother's funds pay for today. She would have wanted to do the same herself; she loved that boy as much as I. He has a hard road ahead. The high school that last week offered him admission reneged as his needs are too much for their model. I've endless meetings and negotitions ahead for him. Why I of all people, must fight so hard...when all I want is peace and everyone to simply be nice. Damn fairy tale believer, me.
Still it was a productive day. An impromptu dinner out was more enjoyable than anything I could have planned. Casual, funky eateries are my thing after working behind the scenes in restaurants you had to dress up to get in the door. And home to find the tree peonies in my messy garden have popped. Bright raspberry double blooms bigger than my hand. Still outside, The children raked and moved some of the endless debris to behind the barn. This is my last chance at a bit of obediance. No more mother's days or bdays for another year, so it's back to being bad cop at home.
Still no sex. CW sustained a work-related injury, so it might be awhile. He's been pushing hard for me come over and I'm certainly happy to bring him food or whatever he needs. But I can't leave my children and I think he's losing tolerance. It's not that I don't want to, but this is the time of year multiple children have multiple commitments. And theirs are mine. It does feel like a cage sometimes. I need a serious attitude adjustment. It's a privledge to be their mother. But that role necessarily limits other roles I can fill. I think it's time to stop flirting with Key West and get down to business at home. And to kickass.
But here I am, at least 4 people's rock. I'm neither smart enough, nor resilient, nor stable enough to take on the role. But I wasn't given a choice. That's the way it is. And since I care more about them than every other thing I care about, I play the role....sometimes shaking in my boots. I still shake my head and wonder who the hell put me in charge? But I'm the dependable one. Madame reliable. Steady. Shows up. Boring as hell...but inside just a simmering pot waiting for her time. It'll come, but I damn well better not be too old when it does.
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I spend 4 out of 7 nights watching either baseball or softball, doing the mommy thing, usually huddled in blankets against the eve chill. Tonight is no different although I sought a bit of solitude over last nights small talk of everything and nothing. Gossip, golf, and celebrating another child's screw up on field is pretty hard to take. But then I think it's hard enough to get out there and put in the time and practice. My expectations are smaller....just show up, meet your commitments, and do your best. And for heavens sake, don't celebrate another's misfortune. It's that fucking NICE gene. But damn I'm getting intolerant of little tiny bullshit that shouldn't even be on my radar. My skin needs to thicken. I get far too annoyed by things that don't matter.
Well, it's green, fresh air, trees and dandelion heads all around ready to blow and make a wish. I've taken the time to enjoy the smaller luxuries, like hot bevs from Starbucks and their protein pack. I'm prickly these days, but I'm still able to appreciate small pleasures. Hell, all I want is one person to be nice to me in a day and I count that as a good day.
I know what y'all are thinking...damn that girl needs to be fucked. Funny how that buzz, that glow, afterward is like a coating of lube...every damn nuisance, minor tragedy, and bs just slides right off. I've a deadline Tuesday. A big, looming, don't-fuck-it-up-this-late-in-the-game cloud of must-do. I should probably make the time for a good hard simple fuck with CW, but I'm such a PITA right now. I dont want to deal with me; let alone have someone who cares about me do so. I'm going to have to fix that.
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Good heavens, younger men clamoring to check that older woman experience off their "must do" litsts....If I get another email with "I love older women," I will break something. The challenge and pleasure is having an relationship with an equal. Oh you can play Dommy/sub games, but having a relationship with a contemporary is richer and simpler. That's part of the appeal I suppose with maturity...no bullshit, keep it simple. If it's too hard, it's not worth anyone's time. It sets my back up to be referred to in the general population of "older women." Is it at all appealing to be called a "boy toy," or a "baby?" But then words are my thing...as is character, maturity, and a man who knows a woman's body. Add conversation, silver at the temples, and little imperfections...yum...Admittedly I'm a sucker for a fit man, especially biceps without tats. Or a guy with a barely there swagger...law enforcement officers have it from wearing that heavy duty belt...it makes my mouth water quite literally.
It' has not been a great few weeks. Over committed. ER visits, commitments by others reneged, multiple stressors galore. One day, head in hands, I railed at wtf did I do for karma to be fucking with me this badly? Some error in my thought process leads me to think I'm being punished when bad things happen....I'm not even sure where that ridiculous belief comes from. It's like I have to "pay" for good things with a balance of the bad. I did leave my children to vacation for a week with CW; that's unusual enough. Then I left again for my birthday in Key West. It looks even sillier when I write it here. Mommy guilt.
I have so much ahead. Ordinarily I'd say bring it on. But I feel as if my resources are limitted, my personal ability to handle things feels hampered. CW keeps asking for an open window in my schedule for sex. Normally I'd make time. And oh, he's been supportive and mostly kind even though I frustrate him. But I want on some level to be left the fuck alone. I think I feel that if I don't interact, less shit is likely to come my way. I just can't give anymore. I don't want to massage anyone, suck a cock, or deal with anyone else's frustrations. Oh sh&#, maybe I'm turning into a selfish beyoch.
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Of course the trouble with being just a visitor to paradise is you have to go home. And sure enough, it's just the way I left it. I wonder how people really do make the jump and effect change. Mine seem always such a long time coming. I get there, but damn it takes forever. And quite frankly, I don't have forever anymore. So tired of the status quo...but aren't we all?
Pen
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This was one of those weeks that began so badly, it could only get better. And better it is. I have a birthday, a big one this week that I was rather dreading. Age never was a factor I gave much thought to in the past. I'd always looked younger than my years, but I think my appearance and chronological age are catching up to each other. I don't get called "beautiful" anymore, nor "pretty." "Intelligent" or "healthy" are the adjectives I hear these days. I'll take the latter over the former, but these days I'm often the eldest women in my milieu. And dating a younger man, well...I prefer older men myself...there's something a bit unsettling at hearing "you're the oldest women I've ever dated." But to reverse that dynamic now, I'd have to date men my father's age. Wear and tear and stress take a greater toll these days, but my life is richer than it's ever been. I think back to when I was a twenty-something, tall, thin and prettier than most...and absolutely no idea how to negotiate relationships or any sense of my own power.
I'm traveling again. I adore leaving as much as I do coming home. This time it's pure luxury and celebration. Everyone expects me to drink and party...looking at me puzzled when my plans run more to museums and gardens. Beauty. That's all I really need and seek. Just some folks to be nice to me, a change of scene, and beauty. An escape and a celebration.
I don't usually receive many gifts, but this time some of the most thoughtful ever. My daughter taught herself to play "Happy Birthday" on the piano as a surprise; mind you, she doesn't play the piano...one of the sweetest gestures ever. And my dear, dear cohorts with such thoughtful gifts. They know I've felt almost beaten by circumstances I can't control lately; and Oh, I appreciate their support. One of the women gave me a poem to keep with me when I needed it. As literate as I am, poetry usually makes me groan. But this! This was beautiful. And darling Dom popped by with his lovelies and still more treats. Really...something I was dreading turned into a rather lovely, heartwarming occasion for me. Some adults have their milestones pass without notice; I'm grateful this one was filled with people I truly love. So kind, and boy, I really needed someone to be nice to me!!!
It's very late as much as I'd like to keep watching the words appear on my screen...so off to bed and a fresh day, a year older.
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I don't even want to re-read my rant of last night. Too much worry, and pain, and that sense of impending DOOM...and far too much drama for me. I slept. Thank heavens. Oh, did I sleep. Deep. Blessedly dreamless. And got my ass out from under the comforter, as much as I wanted to stay there. Not a hundred percent...my eldest son looked at his omelet today and asked what happened to it. Everything is sticking today...from the eggs to the pan to every little thing I have to do and comment. I'm edgy and rough. I need to smooth those edges so it all flows over and around me, the stresses and bullshit.
A body begins to feel brittle when stress takes hold. CW encourages more aggression from me; thinking I come across as too nice and I sound too much of a little girl when I talk to my ex. I've been strident. I've been weepy. I've been the voice of reason. I've been encouraging and nice. But to my ex I will always be the enemy. But I don't want to fight a war. I just want each partner to do what they're supposed to do and for both of us to get on with our lives.
I'm eating healthy...some odd radish/grapefruit salad and tuna for breakfast of all things. But d'lish. CW tells me things aren't all that bad. And he's right that it could be much worse. I'm still in my house. My children are safe and good and have a father. An asshole of a father, yes. But again it could be worse.
It's a better day than it was a night. But I feel what I feel. With good reason. And it sucks. CW tells me to take a more aggressive stance and confine interactions to face-to-face. He may be right about face time. But as much as I spew here, I don't want to discuss it with CW any more and how much "worse" things could be or may get. Time to lose the doom and gloom and focus on the beautiful day. I am overwhelmed on so many levels so I think it's time to go back to the simple things. Ride my shiny red bike to my local meeting, breathe, and hope to hell someone is nice to me today. I really need someone to just be nice.
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Oh, it's a bad, bad night. All day I craved my bed. But a cluster fuck of information inadvertently revealed has left me spinning. I want to rail and shout and list all the specifics of how very big an asshole my ex is, but what's the point? I put him in words and I immortalize him in a small way. And he's better forgotten even if he continues to haunt and fuck with my family and I.
Say what you mean. Do what you say. Hell, I'd settle for the latter ovet the former if just that was achievable in this lingering, malignant connection I have with the father of my children. I remain connected to this man fiscally despite all my efforts. Most of the time I manage but then he fucks me....and no darlings, not in the good way. And oh, tonight I'm fucked over.
Cried my tears. Hugged my children. Called CW. But it hurts. I feel like a baby to say it, but a man who I viewed as the best, most honorable man and love of my life at one time, hates me. I don't see him the same. And I don't love him any more. And he's certainly not the love of my life. But he did have a part in the making of those who are the love of my life, my children. And oh, that it's come to this....I can deal with each of us doing our part, keeping to the parenting schedule, and the financial mish mash. But out-and-out fucking me and the children's stability...it;s just...well...I don't understand. I've never understood irresponsibility and causing your child pain.
But hell, I'm that bitch not-quite-ex wife who is to blame for all the ills of his world.
And what does this bitch of an ex want? To get on with her life. To make enough of her own money so she doen't need a penny from her ex. To have him be with his kids when he wants to and surround them with people who will treat them kindly. I just want to be happy and I think he's entitled to the same. But OMG, this level of shit...the endless waste of time....
My pride is hurt. My ego. My brusied heart a bit. I remember fighting for a long weekend together. Now he takes week to 10 day long trips away with his gf. It takes a stronger woman than I not to wonder why he seemed to spend our marriage trying to NOT spend time with me. Oh, maudlin me! I'm in a state. And I just wish I could sleep dreamlessly.
All I can think of if that six grand he's spending of maritial assets could have fixed the leaky roof.
I'm doubly suceptable to introspection right now as I have a birthday next week. It's a substantial enough year to have me feeling....well...past prime...like I'm that discounted meat in the grocery store hitting her sell by date. I am not usually this lacking in confidence. Oh, I'll get i back. But tongiht is one of those nights I wish I had my Gran back. She'd make me play Gin Rummy with her, tuck me in, and always always hug and hold on for an extra minute. I always felt wanted and loved and missed. But she's gone. And by some twist, I'm in charge. So I tuck everyone in. And I kiss them goodnight. And fuck if I don't fix whatever needs fixing and figure out a way to make things better.
Maybe it's a little Scarlett O'Hara of me, but I know tomorrow will be a better day. I just can't drop the ball now. But fuck if I don't wish I could live the fairy tale . But my handsome prince had the feet of a troll and a heart way too many sizes too small.
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One more thing off my plate. One more thing I don't have to think about. There's something very satifying about being able to actully finshi a task. Quite frankly it's been years since I've worked quite this hard with this sense of accomplishment. But I've learned one lesson well. Just DO it and then you don't have to stress, think, or plan about it anymore. In the past I had to stop keeping lists since it was so maddening to have half left undone every day.
My friend was back on the proverbial treadmill today as she was released by her cardiologist last night. His edit? Drink more wine, smoke more pot, get more massages and stop stressing. How often we are our own enemy. So wonderful to see her back and in form. We took a brainstorming walk to a lower terrace outside, figuring walking, talking, and thinking would keep all our brains too occupied to stress out. And you know what? It worked.
We managed crudites for lunch and no caffeine for the lot of us...Earth Day and all there were free healthy bites for all today. Didn't need any Zanax either. And OMG, I don't even know how our conversations get where they do...discussing my beau's pre-existing condition and how he still manages to fuck like a 22 yr old...how none of us has had a really stellar o from anal sex, my colleague's nice breasts I got a look at in the ER, wear and tear on pussies, and confessions of a squirter or two...We laugh til we have to put our heads on the table to catch our breaths. And everyone is still wondering where squirt really comes from. And why oh why does monogamy eventually lessen fucking frequency? But then it's an illusion singletons get fucked all that much...
Y'all tell me...where does squirt come from...and how much does anyone out there really get to have sex?
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I'm beyond exhausted, but my brain is far too full to try to sleep yet. That's one function this journal serves...to empty my head just long enough so I can rest and fill it up again the next day. Orgasms have much the same effect, but with that extra hum of oxygen zipping through my system...I can almost feel it perfuse my system, especially on those tender pink areas...lips (north and south), nipples, even on my tip toes. Perfect night to have a loving sub...to massage my head, wash my hair, moisturize and tuck me in. Or hell, a loving Dom... Completely set my alarm wrong and the entire household overslept this morning. Just made it to a serous think tank meeting; we made it through, the girls and I. But my one colleague, subject to panic attacks, her pulse just wouldn't go down. We were all stressed and anxious, but food, water, a break...we ended up at the ER after calling her cardiologist. I stayed as long as I could and we actually worked together to get her mind off things there...but oh, that sweet woman...Her children already lost their father; she's got to be okay for them. We managed to clear her calendar for now so she can focus on what she needs, but this is scary stuff. And really she's one of the most remarkable women...we NEED people like her in the world. Prayers darlings if you do that sort of thing or just wish for wellness.... I've a sick pussy at home...the feline kind naughty boys! Running on empty, but managed to get her looked at. She's a sweet little tuxedo cat and hopefully the meds will help. My daughter who wants to be a vet had a change of mind when she watched the pro at work. Gross, messy and invasive...is not her forte. Bakeries closed Mondays and a son with a fundraiser, so I dragged my sweet ass to the kitchen long enough to bake and make a caesar with a few steaks. Finally a glass of wine for myself but damned if I can sleep even though every joint in my body aches with exhaustion. Another major dead line tomorrow and one down...though I could get fucked properly tomorrow night if I can manage it all. I almost want to peg a subbie right now rather than let anyone inside of me but that's not going to happen with CW. Hmmm...I almost rather have a massage than sex...Almost... Pen |
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I did at last get laid with CW recovering from an ill week. I'm trying to remember when it was...ah, Friday night...Darling Dom helping him with his techie difficulties then a moonlit dinner on the water. Beautiful night, that. It was great to feel that hard slow slide I love so much, but boy I could've taken it hard and raunchy and long all night long. I'm torturing Madame Puss with gigantor and the twin magic wands, but self pleasure doesn't give me the o's a proper cock can. I'm told I have the tiniest little clit...translates into rare clitoral o's. But my g-spot, deep as it is, if a guy can reach it...multiple screaming, messy, beautiful o's. I came. He always makes sure of that...and really if I don't cum, a man is doing something wrong or I'm really not into him. It's not very difficult to get me hot and bothered.
Changing the linens, I got lost in scent...the faint pool smell of chlorine bleach, the rosewater on the pillowcases. Sent me back in time to my Gran's, the smell of roses. It's funny how I miss the scents of past times. I'm particularly sensitive to lovers'. My ex used to be classic Old Spice like his father; I loved it but it's long gone since he's gone all metrosexual artsy lately. I keep wishing he'd put on a pair of socks with his loafers and lose the pastel shirts.
I found a few leftover bath supplies from my former cuck. Things I don't use, but figured I might as well use up and clear space...Head and Shoulders shampoo, that green Irish something or other deodorant soap....and yeah, even those make me bite my lower lip to stop that deep pull of want. I miss the man's fucking Polo black cologne on his chest and the texture of his skin. And I'm damned if I don't miss his big fat mushroom head cock too. But some things are better missed than having.
This guy, CW, is an axe man. Now I hadn't even really heard of it or known so many men used the product until I used his, though I know darling Dom has his share of the stuff. There must be 500 different scents of the stuff. I sniffed my way through much of them for my teen son. The first day he showered, I could smell him 3 rooms away. I checked the shower and found he'd used a full half the bottle at one time. A little education and he's toned it down. But occasionally it's a bit odd when my son smells like CW. Still it's better than a teen boy can smell like without. And rather nice to get a hug with the scent clinging to his hair.
It's time I updated my own from Thierry Muglers limitted Sucre to something grassier and herbal and fresh but I can never find something that I recognize as right for me. I remember long ago, in my twenties, a man picked a Shisito (spelling!) scent for me that was amazing and perfect. I've always wanted another to do that again for me; but hell, I'm not going to see a man's man like CW smelling perfumes at Macy's for my birthday. Ah...now that's when I need a proper sub...
What a perfect way to interview for one. A date where he brings his effort, the scent he thinks would suit and please me most...he'd have to apply it...and then naughty Domme would make him wear it too...I'm an animal after all. I like my man to leave carrying my scent. Possessive little ol' me...
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Still a fuckless week but feeling satisfaction in other arenas, so I'm less taught mentally and physically. You know what I mean...that tightness, the physical and emotional manifestations of stress you begin to feel build up? Usually without steady sex I just sense my body contracting on itself. I wake to find myself increasing curled into a fetal position, blankets getting higher over my head each night...as if I were returning to the womb or cave in my case!
IDK, I feel more capable and able to handle what's coming instead of that pervasive cloud of dread that sometimes haunts my days. Oh, there are barrels full of sh*% ahead for me but my head seems to recognize the temporary sense of it all. Yeah, it's going to truly suck for the next 8 weeks at times, but my efforts that seemed fruitless ...well some of them are paying off. Who would have thought? I'm annoyingly persistent in the midst of uphill battles, even though I might be angst-ridden and ready to give up. And heaven knows I want to give up when my efforts seem so futile, but I don't/can't. I don't what to be Don Quixote tilting at windmills but to fight battles that have a greater purpose than my own self-involved goals. And hell, as much as I hate to admit it, I hate to lose.
Most of those battles I fight for my children. I learn systems and how they work. I try to understand people and what they need. Most of us here speak English, but there are social and professional cultures and languages you have to learn to speak to negotiate them. The right vocabulary, the right approach, the right way to present oneself, and how to force a hand if necessary. Quite frankly I hate that sh*+ as it smacks of manipulation to me. But it's necessary. No one teaches you this stuff. Oh you can hire advocates, attorneys, counselors, pragmatic language/social skills specialists if you don't naturally pick up these things. But for a girl from a white trash slum, carless, and on public assistance her whole childhood...I'm still learning. And teaching my boys who have social deficits these things is a whole 'nother kettle of fish.
My hope is that my efforts to keep learning and experiencing new things keeps my aging brain synapses firing. I'm getting old and have a landmark birthday within weeks. I know I can't keep as much in my short term memory at the same time as I used to. Normal as we age, along with the reading glasses and noisier joints in the morning. But I'm not ready to get old-old, that calcification of thought and attitude. And a life that gets narrower and smaller instead of open to possibility.
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Mango mochi. Treating myself after one of my longest days in memory. It's almost an immersion course right now in professional competencies. 17 hours and I still haven't made it home. I forced myself to have a proper meal. lots of genmaicha tea so I can drive home, but someone else to cook and clean it up. Poor CW is ill and I'm concerned. He has a pre-existing condition so when he does succumb to viruses, he gets VERY ill indeed. On the plus side, I used every iota of time well but this is a demanding week. Everyone wants a piece of me and I have to be at two places at the same time tomorrow evening. Well, one at a time and they'll have to deal. Not my idea at all.
Such an odd evening. Pushed myself hard. I started the day thinking oooooh, time for a pedicure today. But then decided to spend every moment killing deadlines so I wouldn't have to think about them anymore. It worked. My heart's slowed; my head has more space in it. Home to bed alone and fuckless though seems a poor reward for my industry.
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It's so easy to want what you don't have. I fight the desire for things that aren't good for me. Hell, I suppose we all do. But I crave those relationships left unfinished, the proverbial one who got away, as well as the ones I was GLAD to get out of. I find myself craving moments. The man who kissed and fucked me so hard, that his desire for me was palpable...the cop who dressed a corseted me in his Kevlar and duty belt and then fucked me bent ovet the piano and again on the stairs because he couldn't wait to get to my bedroom...or the man who knew my body so well he'd make me orgasm so much and so hard I'd run out of fluid.
I'm fortunate. I have a lovely man in my life who can fuck hard and sustained. He's a good guy with an even better value system. And it's a relationship where he wants me more than I want him most of the time. Not physcally. I'm generally up for a fuck. But emotionally I'm attached, but he's more so. Do I like the power differential? Yes. There's something rather wonderful about being wanted as a woman in middle age when men's desires for me will continue to wane. I've always enjoyed being wanted. But oh, feeling that want myself for a man...that deep, jaw-clenching, body on alert, do-anything-to-have-him desire....and then the HAVING. Mmmmm....THAT's what I miss and crave. Wanting someone so badly and then getting him...and having it exceed my wildest expectations.
I want to not be able to stop touching his skin, his lips, his cock...and I want to talk the naughtiest of pillow talk until he can't help but get hard and fuck me still again. My bad girl wants to come out and play.
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I'm glad to be out of that headspace of last week feeling so stressed, alone and overwhelmed. My cohorts and I (my closest two friend/colleagues) seem to be taking turns talking each other down from the figurative ledge...nothing that dramatic, but when families and partners seem to withdraw support we are there for each other. We are educated and know stress and it's whys, wherefores and physical manifestations clearer than most...but it still doesn't stop us from our own heads being our worst enemy some days.
After a week, the ex and I finally figured out why we were mutually pissed off at each other for non-response to texts. (That really ratcheted up the stress level last week; complete silence.) His girlfriend hacked his code and blocked me. Charmer, that one. That's that hardest part about dating someone without children...they don't get the necessity to always be a phone call away. It's funny both he and I are dating never-married childless partners. I've always wanted to date a man with children, much like me, but I've usually ended up with singletons. Quite frankly I don't understand why anyone without a family would choose to date a partner with the complications of one.
In CW's case, I'm a bit of a novelty to him. Older. Smarter. More dominant. He claims to have gotten finally exhausted having to explain himself to his usual younger/dumber fare (his words, not mine). He's been away. As much as I wish I didn't, I missed his support and presence more than usual. And heaven knows, I missed the sex. I dug deep into my red bag of goodies this week...two wands to switch over when one got too hot, gigantor, a beautiful stainless steel curve of a dildo, all 4 of the glass ones, nipple clamps... And porn, lots and lots of porn...I'm fond of creampies; the bigger the cock and the harder it fucks, the better for me. The poor man is in for a workout when he returns tomorrow.
He wants to fuck as much and as hard as I do, but I warned him I want him to pull out all the stops. He's not particularly kinky, but his appetite is very strong and his capability matches. I admire his character most. But the fact that he stays hard and keeps going after he cums is a near second. I really do need to fuck.
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Thank heavens for wine and hugs and days that can only get better...and do...
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Time for me to pay the piper...my stress is through the roof. Serotonin levels are exhausted and all day my eyes kept spilling over. Add to not eating a proper meal till 3:30 pm and I was just fucked today. IDK. Busy with my and family commitments, like the rest of the world, but somehow it feels like too much. Add time with my ex pretending to be father-of-the-year with other parents present and I want to swear, scream and kick something. Okay, so I sound like a three year old. And I feel like one too. Out of control, without support, emotionally reactive, and simply fucked ( and not in a good way). CW is away so that doesn't help; and then I'm unhappy with myself for feeling like I actually need the man. It's like he slipped in under my defenses and now I'm attached. I was before, but now...IDK...he took care of me in a way and I let him...it's left me vulnerable. And I am not remotely comfortable with the feeling.
My dear friends and cohorts who I met today, over an hour late (not like me)...asked me to talk to them. And I couldn't. Really today was nothing but minutia. It wasn't anyone thing...it was a whole host of little nonsense that individually I would've shrugged off. But today it stuck...like cat hair on black pants. All those little annoyances built to an avalanche that has me shaky, buried, and wanting to keep weeping. Every damn little thing that could go wrong, did. And I started the day on top of it. But there's more ahead. More than I can do. Certainly more than I want to.
I took a break with one of my children..a little Starbucks excursion for just us. Hugs. Leaning over to kiss her head. Just pure sweetness. It helped but I am still feeling completely overcommitted. It is inevitable. Their father says he will do this or that, doesn't, and I pick up the slack. Hell, I pick up the slack for everyone. So they fuck with me because they know I won't drop the ball when it comes to my children.
Ah fuck, I just need a damn hug.
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Such adventures for a quiet type like me...a blessed week in the Keys, one of my favorite places on Earth. I'd forgotten what it felt like to be warm. Home to a 59 degree house...I bumped it up to 74 since I'm still not adjusted to post-tropical chill. Added fire, candles and waiting for my first proper cup of tea I've had in a week to brew. I'm still more there than home...closing my eyes I see palms, blue green water, and the limey mint scent of mojitos. I haven't yet seen my children after a week apart...I expect their hugs will bring me right back to the moment here, now, and home to be mommy again. The cats are happy to have me home. I've never traveled so light...nearly done with my bits of laundry in a house with empty hampers and made beds. It's unreal. I had a glorious time but after 4 days, it was just too long away from them. Now if only my ex wasn't 2 1/2 hours late bringing my family home...
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CW was about to cancel our plans Friday evening for a charity dinner his father sprung on him. I had much to do and new technology to learn, so didn't even blink at the change. I was happy to have night to myself, sipping Stewart's cream soda...wholesome and hard at work. I figured a break or two for my new relaxation series, Homeland, and I'd be to bed early. But oh my, he didn't LIKE my shrugging it off. The man wanted me to give him a hard time and be upset. I think his confidence sags more than he likes to admit. It wasn't 20 minutes later when he called to apologize and said he wanted to see me. A nice dinner, deep dark Seven Deadly Zins, followed by a Jamaican coffee followed by a tremendous effort on his part to take me deep. I haven't felt the level of boneless submission he led me to for some time and I'd forgotten what complete satisfaction feels like. I was relaxed to start, he had something to prove, and screaming squirting o's followed by a brilliant effort at post-orgasmic fisting left me in subspace.
Y'all know what the problem is though, don't you? You crave going back there and it's not sustainable all the time. Too many go for it and ratchet up the intensity to get there, as it's like a drug you get acclimated to...it takes more for the same effect subsequent times. You can go deep and far too dark without realizing it. It was lovely and he's still trying hard to get back in my bed, but I've become busy and focused elsewhere. Still soon we'll have a week to explore; I'm weighing the pros and cons of tucking a bit of rope in my luggage. I don't mind a sore puss; hell, I love it.,.but I don't want a trip to the ER for either of us. I know my weakness. I lose sight of my limits when I'm in that zone and can get hurt without realizing it until after the glow fades. I am left completely vulnerable on every level. It takes a skilled, discliplined, unselfish man to protect me and not push his own agenda in those times. He did well until he reminded me afterward that he could have done anything with me then, but didn't (think anal). The "look at me, I'm awesome and you can trust me" speil struck me as immature and unnecessary and raised concerns that next time he might not be so well-behaved.
I know in his head, all he is focused on is reciprocation. He did to me, and now he wants something. I'm sure it's a deep throat bj and that's fine, but somehow it cheapens the moment we had. A tit for a tat is all well and good, but I truly feel what you give sexually is a gift without strings. Strings bind. Rope...well...that a whole 'nother ballgame.
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Finally. Screaming O's. A sore puss. And life is good.
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I miss my sweet self. That's my natural state. I want to be nice and I want everyone else to be nice and do what we say so the world will roll merrily on in peace. But fuck I can be a bitch. It's a hat I put on with dread. It never makes me feel good (well, unless I have a whimpering pleased sub looking at me with adoration for taking him to a place he needs). But you do what you must for results. Clashing swords of words and thinly veiled legal threats get done what's needed in this litigous society we live in, but FUCK! I'm left headachey, tears prickling my eyes, while my figurative middle finger is up in classic fuck you sense. UGH!
But it does get response. Hell, I have to tiptoe around in my professional life too. We are always aware of money and legal mumbo jumbo costs. Unless you can balance what you cost as an employee with you the money and goodwill you bring in, you're out of a job and maybe a reputation too. Degrees and professional competences aside, if you don't have those intangibles...communication, relationship, negotiation, and caregiving skills...you aren't going to achieve and move. I've always been a settled sort; I could/would be happy with a "nice" life, a middle of the road job with a steady employer, and what little excitement I need I'd get in my personal time. But my life didn't turn out at all the way I planned. Careful choices, following the rules, and being a good girl got me fucked over.
I'm still that good girl at heart. I comfort. I hug. I give advice to those who think they can't go another step and question their fortitude and capabilities. And blessedly, some of those few support me in ways I never imagined. And that's where my fulfillment lies. I have to challenge authority often and I'm usually right. There's little satisfaction in being right about ineffective or wrong practices, even when change is manifested. It takes a long time to see the results of my labor and and then the eureka moment happens and I see a child or someone else in need treated with different protocols and they progress in ways no one thought was possible. Those moments are the ones that keep me going and keep me fighting. Me, the least likely fighter out there...
It's been awhile since I've had the luxury of indulging my own thoughts here. I made an uncharacteristic move. I listened to CW, said fuck it, I need a damn break from everything. It's been more than a decade since I've travelled with myself as the focus. Actually I may have never had myself as the focus. And the fear of telling my children I'm just leaving for a week when I've never gone anywhere without them was for naught. My eldest told me it's a good idea since more than a week often goes by without them seeing their father and this would be good since they will be able to see him like they should. Out of the mouths of babes. It's done, set in stone, and I'm going to perhaps my favorite place on earth away from the cold. I'm still going to work from there part of the day, but working from paradise...I can't....quite...believe...it..
Pen
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Yes. I made the deadline. And I knocked it out of the park. I'm still not sure how I managed to perform so well. Better than my colleagues who know more than I. It seems I have the skill to wade through unruly words and understand what is really wanted. As a chef I've started with the dross... bones/herbs/trimmings/salt/scraps added what I've had around from water to wine to stock. Reduced and reduced and skimmed away until I'm left with the essentials. Flavor, deep color....gallons reduced to a quart.
That's my skill. I take endless information and reduce it to a few key elements. That's what I learn. And the rest is application. Everyone else seemed to have every fact, figure, and policy memorized. But the goals asked were convuluted and almost impossible to understand. But somehow I got it. And delivered. One of my favorite, former military compatiriots called me that evening with "I fucking love you. You're amazing. I can't say anyting else. I just love you." This a hardass good-as-gold young woman I admire. Her message brought me to tears. And the other asked "How the hell did you pull this off after the fucking week you just had?"
And you know what the answer is? It's because I'm one of the lucky ones. And I don't always realize it, but I have everything. My family and I are healthy. We have adequate enough medical care. When shit happens, we have resources. But most important we have each other. And nothing that's happening approaches tragedy. I met a man today, a lovely one in uniform. He's mid-30's looking like 50. I watched him carry his 7 year old son from a wheeelchair to his SUV. The boy has suffered through a half dozen courses of chemo and all it's doing is giving his family just a little more time wtih him. My problems are little blips on the radar. This is tragedy. Sometimes it takes getting smacked in the head with something so raw and real and without reason or fairness to give perspective. Quite frankly I've got everything. So fuck the nonsense, I'm going to get on with living while I can. Try it yourselves people. You never know when it's your turn to take a hit out of left field.
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Yes, deadline looming with snow in the forecast...sure to fuck it all up royally...but no one can argue with snow these days so I'll type my fingers to the bone getting prepped in the meantime. All-in-all not a terrible day. Sill more unexpected blips to deal with that are going to be time consuming, but that's par for the course here. Thank god I stopped being a procrastinator years ago. The things I hate to do, but must...I do them almost immediately so I don't waste a moment thinking about them more then I have to. But then few things can be dealt with and finished simply.
CW, who's ill, decided after another day off tomorrow he should come over and take me out to dinner tomorrow night. Did he ask me? No. Just assumed I'd fall in with his plans and be thrilled to share my bed with a guy who is likely infectious with URI (upper respiratory infection) and a guaranteed night without decent sleep if he coughs all night. Now if ours was as reciprocal as he professes, I'd offer to take care of him and deal with whatever comes. Hell, I did a dozen times in the past, but nope. The man like to be alone when he is sick. I think he feels me slipping and is trying to grab on. OMFG I don't want to share tomorrow. I want to be left to myself. Drink tea. Watch something adventurous with a hot capable older hero that gets my blood singing. And sleep like a starfish across my whole bed I don't want to share a damn thing tomorrow. And I don't want to be nice or make small talk or listen to anyone talking about anything real, immediate, or unpleasant. I want to be completey selfish and not have to do a damn thing for anyone.
I did meet up with 2 women friends today. I didn't have time and I wanted to cancel desperately but I didn't since I believe in fidelity, doing what I say. So I showed up and OMG I'm glad I did. Bearing a small gift for a friend's bday. Having tea bought for me. Talking the gamut from our mutual deadline to cock cages and our preferences for cut or uncut. A beautiful 4 hours of work & social & laughter. I could have moved faster alone, but multiple viewpoints hone my own in ways I can't alone.
As an aside, I realized my angst with CW. A boyfriend should be fun, easy, I should enjoy the relationship and be happy. I like the IDEA of having a boyfriend, but I'm not sure I have a fun supportive, easygoing partner. And CW really has lacked follow through; it's all about the effort. If someone really wants to see you, they will and it will be TOMORROW. And I'd bet they aren't going to call an hour before the date and say I'm gong to have to push it back...IF they really want you, they won't be able to wait. It's the difference between a banquet and crumbs
I said no decisions until I pass this deadline and reduce stress because I may well be redirecting my hostility and stress in CW's direction. I'm wondering, there's something rather freeing in NOT wanting but then I sure seem like I'm on the wrong site.
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Seriously, seriously, seriously I am so done over and just tired. My house just empited of police and fire personnel. Burning smell, all the smoke detectors going off in the house and not going off at the perfect 40 minutes post-bedtime. Huddled the children into my car to slowly get warm; it's 5 degrees outside right now. Nothing on fire but time to replace the whole damn system. Last week was a a few thousand gone on a new hot water heater/boiler/plumbing repairs. The accident Friday and that deductible. A massive deadline Tuesday. I am still working HARD. Ready to scream at CW at his constant efforts trying to tell me what to do, when all I am doing is just that. I'm handling it. Am I a raving bitch? In the shower when no one can hear me I can scream the obscenity or two. Or dozen. I've opened my room (a former pet-free zone) to my big cat. He's taken to sleeping faithfully at the foot of the bed like a dog, but his purr soothes.
I have to remember things to be grateful for...we are all fine. The house is intact, if the car is not. I kept my children safe and relatively warm and dealt with it and got them all tucked back in their beds. The beast of a cat is purring even louder and winking his eyes at me with sheer love; he knows my bed is rare treat for him. If he tries to push any closer he'll be sleeping on my keyboard. Oh! And I seem to have gotten over my uniform fetish, but then I've been dealing with a ton of police officers lately. Normally that would send my libido into overdrive, but desire seems to have taken a vacation. It's a terrible thing that I'm almost grateful CW is ill so I don't have to fuck him. What's with THAT? So NOT me.
Tuesday. No decisions til I make it through Tuesday. That night I want to celebrate. But all I really want to do is run away to someplace way warmer and GREEN. The Keys. Not the madness of Key West. I'm a quiet sort over a partier...though there are different ways to party. Drinks, fish dinner, throwing the tarpon bait fish and watching them leap out of the water, sunrises and sunsets, turning on the hose to give the manatees fresh water to drink...before I really get to spend the time I want there I'm going to be a grumpy old lady. I always get where I mean to in the end, but man, I'm a slowpoke at getting there.
I don't think my heart and body aren't going to be set on fire anytime soon. I feel more inclined to hermit away, given the effort and price of intimacy these days. Thank heavens for my children, they keep me here and keep me going. But where did that bright sexual drive of mine go?
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Still in a blue funk, but perhaps not so pervasive as it's impossible to be low for long around my very loving children. Yesterday driving with my youngest son my car was rear-ended by a pick up truck travelling at speed. All I could think of and do was look at him and assess his status; it was the only thing that mattered...that my boy was okay. Fortunately he was. The driver left the scene and hasn't been apprehended yet, so it's all on me to come up with my deductible and sort it out. At this point I figure fuck, what's next?
Now Valentine's Day is usually not a big deal for me. The presence of a beau usually creates undue pressure for us both. It's the WORST night to go out to dinner; trust me, as a former chef I know. Go a few days before. A Saturday night V-day dinner is crowds, sub par service, the kitchen spending the whole night in the weeds, and a fixed limited menu that was pre-cooked and is only being finished off in the salamander. I'm going for a home cooked, toss it all in a roasting pan roasted red meat dinner for all this evening as it begins to snow. Fingerling potatoes, fennel, sweet onions, carrots, and the tiniest baby brussels I've ever seen...those will will be truffle glazed. And no, it's not nearly as fancy as it sounds. Roast beef and potatoes. Just fancier vege varieties.
CW...ugh...I'm having trouble keeping my cool with the man. He thinks he's the cat's meow and the nicest boyfriend ever. And he is a good guy. But empathy...he tries but he can't really get my perspective. He tells me I take on too much, that I need help, be tougher on my children. Mind you, the man is childless himself. It's true their father is less involved than he should be. And two of my boys have special needs. But there isn't anyone else to take it on and you out there who are parents know what I mean. Sacrifice means sometimes parenting takes a toll on you. But I admire my children's spirit, values, manners, helpfulness, brilliant minds, and kind souls. And oh, they know how to love and how to show it. And show it they do. And that's my Valentine.
CW wants to protect me, help me...but when it's convenient. His last minute cancellations (work-related) are becoming the norm rather than the exception. The man insisted on coming over late last night to talk about the damages on my car after I told him it was handled. I had first aid assess my son, he spent the rest of the afternoon with a friend who's mom is an RN and watched him carefully, talked to 3 insurance adjustors, scheduled the estimate for Monday, made sure the lights worked and car was safely driveable, and started to figure out who is not gettting paid this month so I can pay my deductible.
I've told him repeatedly I simply want a monogamous fuck, an occasional dinner date, conversation, and to just be nice to each other. I'd love a partner to bounce ideas off of, but he presses his ideas as if his views are the only "rightness," the right course of action to take. And he talked to my children privately about taking the load off me. I find that offensive. He's poking around in areas he neither understands nor was invited. It would be one thing if our relationship pushed each other's boundaries and there was consent. But this scale is tipped way off balance. Mine is the life he pokes and prods in while keeping his friends and family separate. It's become a refrain, this argument about the uneveness and his speaking out of turn.
He left his things here last night to have an excuse to come by again. But I've maintained tech silence today, busy with a research project that won't wait and time with my family. I'm sure he's fuming. But quite frankly right now he breeds stress rather than it's relief. And I needn't more. I do wonder if my perception is entirely accurate since my focus is elsewhere and tolerance at an all time low. So I'm not making any decisions about this relationship until later in the week after a looming deadline is satisfied. I expect if I don't say something today the man will break up with me. But i've lost the desire here. The desire to continue, the desire to fuck him, and the desire to put up with inconsistency.
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Today is not much brighter but I'm still pushing ahead toward goals im not sure are still achievable. I need my faith back. And my positivity. And the joy. Or again, a good proper fuck would shake out the grumpies in my head. I am loved. But with love comes commitments and responsibilities and ties. And right now the pressure of it feels like weight rather than the comfort of an embrace. Well to the gym to beat up my own ass and hopefully snap out of it.
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I don't want much from a relationship. A dinner a companion a night or two per week. A regular fuck. And someone who is just nice to me. Add conversation to bounce off stressors or ideas or such. I want my guy to be something that's just mine, without the intrusion of the rest of my life, for the occasional night. That's it. Pretty low expectatons of what he has to give. Character matters of course. But hell, if a guy can't manage the above expecations, he's at zero. And there goes the whole relationship. I nearly cut CW loose. Well, I did, but he came knocking and to "talk." It's really simple I told him. I don't ask for much. But the bit I do, you better delvier. And that's easy.
He's been slipping. And I'm stressed and tired and not nearly well fucked enough these since one stellar night a couple weeks ago. That's not going to do it. I am supposed to be eliminating non-essentials from my life, but it seems to be filling and growning increasingly more complicated instead. I'm losing ground and motivation. But I'm still doing what I do, just pushing through. But anymore I'm not sure why. My personal situation will stay in limbo at the advice of my attorneys and OMG I'm done. Tired of fighting since it seems I've no goal now to fight for. I'm unsure why I'm working so damn hard when I needn't and can just stay the status quo. My goals are beginning to seem just plain stupid. But I'm in deep and have been working so long; I'm just not sure I can sustain the effort for much longer. And damn, I've been trying and trying and trying. But quite frankly, I'm not sure any of it is going to matter a damn.
To bed with my sorry sack of an attitude, with hopes that tomorrow is a brighter day.
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Finally a day that felt warm (ish) after all this freezing my sweet ass off. My day to sleep in and 5:30 am I wake up to no heat, seeing my breath in the air of my bedroom. Poor CW was huddled in the bed. I tried not to wake him, given his early start today. I know how to troubleshoot the boiler until the plumber comes later in the week to drain the expansion tank and do his magic. My reboot set all 3 hard wired fire alarms outside my bedroom to shrieking. Poor man. I'm naked but for gooseflesh, fanning the damn alarms with my robe while he tosses on his shorts to see why all hell broke loose. It's funny in retrospect, and a small blip, given the bigger issues I have to solve. I'm giving myself kudos to not living in complete ignorance of how the household systems work here in this centennial plus house. I used to just call "guys" as my children put it, whenever things went wrong. Quite frankly, it was a nice luxury doing so but I need to model knowledge and capability to teach my children how to develop the same habits.
Damn if I don't want to fuck tonight. ALL night. CW and I had a brief, not fully satisfying bonk last night. But I knew I had to take it easy on him with his demands of the day. And it was a very new sort of hang out night for us and I'm trying to be nice about it instead of beat his ass and tell him I'd rather he'd only come over if he's going to fuck me stupid. I'm a GIRL; I'm supposed to like all that cuddly bullshit. And I DO! But I'd rather just fuck. Hell, I'd rather skip foreplay most of the time. I love that insertion of hot hard strong cock more than any other sensation. Truly. Sigh. I have to keep reminding myself that relationships are more than fucking and he is lovely and supportive and good. And the man has my back. So I'm going to shut up and be good.
I can't remove the stress in my life, so I'm going to need to manage it. I reupped the gym yesterday and we're developing a couple of different plans so I can be less sedentery. I am required to spend buckets of time with my eyes in articles, books, media presentations and screens. I can do most of it on a treadmill, so that's a start. And perhaps my dropping levels of serotonin will rise a bit as my activity levels do. I did allow myself to play hooky between meetings yesterday and squeezed in a back facial that left me like the molten chocolate center of a Valentine's truffle. Add an hour in the fancy salon to cover my bits of silver peeking through at temple and crown and leave me with a fabulous hair day. Many outstanding to-do's done. Such a good girl. And I still just want to fuck.
Sigh.
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Fuck. I am trying hard to use my brain. But I'm getting haunted by kink...puffing my lips to have a big cock slap my mouth, a proper thuddy flogging, the mutual battle taunts of switchy sex, or OMG ROPE! Naughty, naughty me.
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So all this talk about limerence and I left out the most intriguing part. Limerence seems to have a direct relationship to serotonin in the brain. Y'all know serotonin...that neurotransmitter/hormone responsible for the feel good feeling we all love? Keeping serotonin levels elevated and stable are what SSI antidepressants do. You feel good. This long winter and lack of light? It wreaks havoc with serotonin levels. Your serotonin levels fall and those cyclic thoughts of your lover increase in intensity. And that pervasive sense of NEED does too. All my mooning over a past relationship (that in truth was more negative than positive) can be tracked to that damn neurotransmitter, sero-fucking-tonin. Add stress and levels sink more, and intrusive thoughts increase.
Time to get myself into the sunlight more even if I does freeze my nipples into solid high beamers. Increase the exercise to a little bit EVERY day. And see if it helps. That;s the natural solution to balancing those feel good hormones.
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Research is one of my strengths and I do love to learn. I keeping thinking if I understand the why's, or perhaps just the how's, the senseless will make sense. It's a fallacy of course since human beings are just as destructive as they are transcendentant. Oooooh, now that's a big ass word I"ve never used before (and probably misspelled)! I've come across the term LIMERENCE professionally in passing. Y'all know what it is? It's that psychological term for that emotional sense of infatuation/ love. OMG that passion, thinking so much about the other that it's downright intrusive to your mind...That longing for reciprocation, the buoyancy you feel whan it is...Hell, I think most of us are here trying to recapture intensity of pure lust and emotion. We've felt it. We miss it. We want it. Heaven knows I felt it for my previous cuck...add all the cuckoldry and it was an addiction nearly. The thing is...we women and you men, too, I hear tell, think it's some needinesss, a weakness in ourselves that needs to be met. And that depth of need can make some us feel lesser. It's not just your unmet needs or a psychological weakness that breeds this craving; it evolutionary programming and biochemical reaction. We've evolved to seek limerence to secure attachment for ourselves and our offspring.
Heaven forbid when that kickass passion fades for one partner, and the other is left bereft and aching. Limerence intensifies with adversity. So he or she is out, you're even more in. Limerence breeds that tendency to emphasize the positive and downplay the negative...damn if I don't practice that habit with past loves, much to my dismay. The only way to turn limerence off, the psyscho-babble says, is by removing all hope of an actual relationship. (Darling Dom had it right all along) "We can still be friends" is not going to do it for you darlings. Only "I don't love you" or "I love someone else" ends all hope and can end the limerence. Time helps.
We're all tempted to look where the grass looks greener when our committed relationship ebbs. I've felt it in spades lately and would like nothing more than to spend the weekend ahead in a big cock gangbang (wouldn't you, ladies?). But the strong attraction for someone else...if not acted upon, it tends to mellow into a friendship with extra sparks given the residual attraction but it's not going to haunt you with the strength and obsessive quality of true limerence. Well fuck, there goes my justification for going all bad girl slut for once....
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I began this entry with a rant of fuck, fuck, FUCK! and it got worse from there. Screw it. My children's father didn't show up tonight to a very special performance my daughter worked hard to qualify for. She's a tiny thing and plays a sax half the size of herself. And oh, she's magnificent. She shines. Inside and out. But her father with his gross inconsistencies introduces that completely wrong note of "where was dad tonight?" in the midst of her glow of exhausted triumph. And damn if it doesn't happen fully a third to half of the time. I can't bear watching him hurt his own children through sheer idiocy. Most of life darlings, is showing up. You don't even have to be a particularly skilled parent. But if you show up, that's what your children remember. "My dad was always there when I played." Well, I show up, uber responsibility here, even though the stess is telling. And I got his parents there. So I guess I did what I could and it's time to let it go even though I want to go scream ASSHOLE a good two dozen times in the shower to get out my fury at the man.
Instead I poured a finger of the truly fine scotch I stock for CW into the last of the wedding Bacarrat crystal (hundred dollar snifters are wasted on me; the finer the glass, the more likely I am to chip or crack it). Damn if I didn't have to pour half the scotch back into the bottle when I realized I'd poured it like wine. I have to admit the man has taste. This stuff blows away the Courvoisier I used to drink. And some nights I need a sip of strong spirits to chase away that heat in my head, far better to have heat on my lips and in my throat...oh damn, naughty girl that I am, I keep thinking of the beautiful things I've done with CW's cock in my throat.
I couldn't sleep last night, not well. And it was one of the few night I let CW share my bed. I love the man's heat, but I drank far too much red wine chased with heavy dose of Jamison in my irish coffee. Still I'm smart and old enough to drink a liter of water so I'm rarely hung over. But then I don't often start before my date gets here. Yesterday I sure did. It was time to let loose before the next ten very focused days ahead of me. I fear being overwhelmed on so many levels and I'm worried I've put too many balls in the air to be able to juggle them well. But I need to. I've worked so damn hard to get this far. I can't choke or get stupid. I'm letting things get in the way. Especially the stressors of the irresponsible assholery of the ex. I feel, I harp on it...I give him power when I let him bug me like that. I've got to find my equilibrium, my abilty to shrug his assholery off. I'm thinking the solution is to NOT talk about what he does and does not do anymore. Just take it and LET IT GO. How to get there is the question, 'cause quite frankly, I'm fury incarnate about now.
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Stess gets more manageable the more you dive into it and embrace it. I broke today. And yesterday. Tears and pain and why me's. I'm not fond of when I turn into an emotional fucked up wuss, but it comes with the territory of my life. There are choices I've made that trap me and few things bring on a primal sense of panic to me than feeling caged. I've yet to make to peace that my legal battle may not be solved for years. My ex began the process, not realizing the risk to himself and his assets. He choked and realized the current and past arrangement was far more to his advantage than his hypothetical future. Unfortunately, while I was ready for this and wanted a solution, it's also in my best interest according to all the experienced experts to stay the course, prepare, and wait it out. I'm a woman who prefers to DO and move on and this is excruciating I had all the resources and my shit in order to proceed, but I mustn't. Fuckety, fuckety, fuck, fuck, fuck...I counted on resolution, but it's back to fucking purgatory. I escape through hard work, excellence, media entertainment, and fucking in winter. Truly I don't think I can fuck enough to release all this tension, so it's time to head back to yoga and the treadmill. When you know your stress won't go away, you have to learn techniques to manage it.
I'm lucky though. Muttering profanities in the shower yesterday, CW came over to calm me with his support, heat, and a serious quantity of o's. I get dirtier with stress. I swallow his cock whole, talk dirty, and push him to slam me hard. He's not a true sexual dominant, but he's managing to hold my throat more, as foreign as it is to him, when he sees how it makes me gush. I'm tempted to let him tie me, but more discussions are ahead. I forget my limits when I go sub and go further than I should or even can, handle. Unless I have a strong man who won't let me, it's bound not to finish well. I need a protector, but one who can put me ahead of himself when he takes me deep into submission. Because when I go sub, I have no walls. I am completely, meltingly vulnerable. And unless I'm watched carefully I will descend into a weeping, curled up, needy woman child. Quite frankly, fuck that. There are very few souls I'd trust with my own that way.
CW tonight. I'll be sore and well-fucked tomorrow if he delivers. But I need to be careful with my own expectations. I live for these dinner and fucking dates sometimes on the hard weeks. But his is a job that can leave hiim empty and expecations unmet. My new strategy is to usually spend some time with my fav, gigantor dildo and the wand, with my fav big cock creampie porn or naughty fiction. My need is...well, not NEED then. I still want. He gets a swollen puss that hugs his cock and if he can't give it his all, I've started satisfied, so it's a non-issue. I can't have one more person in my life who adds to the stress...he's got to be my pleasure for this to work right now. It's about managing expectations I suppose.
Do I miss anything? Flogging. The thuddy kind. Rope. I miss rope so much I try not to think about it. A man's teeth pulling on my clit. The sensation of being restrained while my partner gives me everything I want. BUT...the man can fuck, and recover to fuck again in 20 minutes. And fuck me again twice in the morning. And he's the only one who can fuck as hard as I can take, deep and sustain it beyond my satiation. And that darlings, is everything to me. And after I'm done, laying like a limp noodle beside him, limbs akimbo...he uses his fingers, sometimes his fist, or cock if it still stays hard....and he makes me come still again. I'm a fool to complain one iota.
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It's been a difficult few days, stresswise. I've been in need of a sounding board and supporter and in that CW has come shining through. I'd apologize to the man if he had any notion the doubts I've been harboring about our relationship. Instead I've let him know how much I appreciate him and reminded my own psyche how rare he is. That ebb and flow of relationships inevitably leaves me doubting when on the ebb. I told him I need "raunchy, real, downright dirty sex" and he delivered, thank heavens. So even when my brain is ready to explode, it simply can't when my muscles are loose from coming dozens of times. I don't know if sex is as bonding to me as it is to others, but it is my primary unfailing source of stress relief. It's as much a need as food and heat and sleep to me. And unmet, I'm a very unhappy chickadee. Met, and I'm at my highest levels of wellness. I'm grateful, really, to CW. He delivered on all fronts, and there aren't many men in my experience who do.
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I'm out of my freanking mind to even think for a moment I want the clusterfuck that was my relationship with the cuck. CW is loyal and relatively honest for a man. I'm just dreaming of greener grass but will satisfy myself with dirty porn and a few what if musings. Hopefully my mind clears and I come to my senses sooner rather than later.
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My stress hasn't contributed to getting along with CW. His sense of humor is not something I enjoy much if my shields are down. It's a bit rough and he like to poke at me mentally to get a reaction. I understand pushing for reaction as a sign of love, but it's only bearable to me when I'm not stressed and more resilient. Words matter to me and a man who pushes me with them, get's the reaction he wants, then shrugs at my "over-sensitivity"....is a man I show the door. I was running on empty this week and just told him no, I was not going to dinner with a man who offends me and he needs to go home. We eventually worked out a solution, but for the second night in a row we both fell asleep upright on the couch leaning on each other...exhaustion and the fireplace roaring knocked us both out. But what I really need to do is fuck. And fuck hard. I'm fantasizing about cuckolding again. Multiple cocks and a protector to watch and protect me and hold me til I'm drunk on fucking. I had a cuck, y'all know, but that's that other profile I left to start new here. Is it fucked up that I miss him still? I want to be that bad girl again.
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I'm enjoying CW less and less. It's damnable. I have a lovely man I care about who cares for me. But fuck, his schedule and plans that change at the last minute. I despise those who build expectations and don't meet them. I'm happier without any at all. Fuck if it works out; don't cage me at all if it doesn't. But relationshps....hell, we choose them for the pluses but have to also suffer the minuses. IDK if it's my stress talking, or my heart and mind are just done. But tonight, I'm sad. And I still miss my last relationship....for what I thought it could be, not what it ended up being. There was passion and power and encouragement to celebrate my inner bad girl. There's passion here with CW and good hard fucking the way I like it, but IDK if there's power and though I can be my sexual raw self, that inner bad girl remains quiet. I have much but I long for something deeper and darker though I know better.
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Stress. I do it to myself even more than external sources do to me. But truly, there are a hell of a lot of external stressors that if I let myself think too much on...will just bury me in fear and worry. So I keep plodding on, doing what I must and preparing for some of what I know is ahead. My divorce is looking to be as endless as my decade-long separation. But bless my grandmother for essentially buying me my own bullies. They call them "attorneys" in more polite circles. On some level, even though I am careful to protect the children from strife, it's affecting them...shorter fuses, need, especially my youngest son who keeps slipping into drama and is deeply sensitive. I'm trying, working my ass off, to get him the help he needs but even all I worked so hard to put in place is failing him. It's going to take every emotional and intellectual resource I've got to fix this. Hopefully, I can. I spent the day making some tough calls; there's more difficulties ahead. Managing it and trying not to fuck up is my struggle these days.
Rain, dark, snow due tomorrow afternoon...it's hard to shine bright when you're chilled and tired and worn. But tonight I'm taking a break...CW, dinner, wine, and some screaming orgasms on both our parts. Damn if we both don't need that from each other right now. He's dealing with a mess of stress himself and oh, we appreciate the time to just say fuck it for a night and just be.
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There really are some very odd men on this site who approach with the most ridiculous of questions. Do go away, sissies and cucks and protocol-loving masters. None of the abouve has what I seek. Simply put, it's connection. I'm fond of and caring of those I chose to develop friendships with. But really darlings, I don't want money nor servitude nor to watch you cum via cam. Silly silly boys.
I've had CW a few days in a row and it's lovely. There's nothing like a regular hard fuck to keep me relaxed and smiling. And omg, I love...no, adore, starting the day with a hard doggie, ass in the air bent over the bed, arms held behind me, being fucked as hard as he can. Screaming o's and falling exhausted side by side on the bed, trying to catch our breath afterwards. It's simple, hard, dirty and hot as hell. I'd start every day that way if I could. But oh, I'm happy. My muscles are lethargic and loose as I sit in front of the fire on one of my last few days before serious demands on my time start again and I start performing like a circus clown trying to keep all my balls in the air.
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Snickerdoodles...that cinnamon/sugar crispness on the outside with pure soft cookie on the inside...and the house redolent of cinnamon, butter, and vanilla..perfect to combat the Noah's flood of a day. Add the fire, sleeping cats, a few children who couldn't keep their eyes open either, and sufficient wine to keep me glowing...well, not a bad day.
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CW does work astonishingly hard. I've never seen anyone with his work ethic. These are brutally long and physical days for him, but fortunately just as profitable as long. I'm glad for him as January is generally the time of year when payments slow and few people spend money or pay their bills on time. That January dearth of wealth, sunlight, and warmth hit us all. I'm glad CW and I made it thru the holidays; it is usually a time that puts undue stress on many relationships with the specter of unmet expectation. Now that life and schedules continue back to business as usual, it's quite a lovely thing to have a regular person to count on to keep you warm when it's cold outside. And y'all know what a strong proponent I am of the regular fuck for sheer mental and physical health; bless the man, he sure can fuck. It's just plain nice to have a beau and to know when I'm next free he will arrive at my door, with those big shoulders, close cropped hair, freshly shaved and with some decadent masculine scent....kiss me dizzy, tuck me into his truck, wine and dine me, then take me home and fuck the hell out of me. It's so simple and what every woman wants, a man who makes an effort, who devotes time and attention to her and her pleasure, and can't wait to do it again.
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A pure geek day for me, more anglophile perhaps...a private tour of an extraordinary collection of rare books. History, beautiful surroundings from the day when women and men still hosted the intellectuals and artists of their day in salons. I suppose it still it exists in a lesser form...networking, professional organizations, munches...lol...but these are seldom presented with beauty and class. Today I need the rarified air of art, crystal chandeliers, period architecture, literary references that stretch my knowledge base, and European style proper tea. I've been meaning to see this collection for years, but I wanted to share it with a compatriot in my former trade. But today solo was perfect. I'd forgotten what I know, given my first degree in English Lit, none of which I've used in my career. Fascinating lives, connections, the way art can intersect life...I need my fix of sheer beauty and damn if I didn't get it.
I continue to sell off my own book holdings...thousands...the time will come to downsize and I prefer to read over dust them...let alone move them! Some collections will come with me, but I prefer living lighter. Quantities of stuff...possessions can weigh you down. And y'all know what I seek the most is to be free. Oh I want my cozy nest, but I want to spend my days exploring and nights tucked in. I've been spending more time at CW's home, parts of the interior are outdated, but the setting is so gorgeous...mature landscaping with glorious tall white oaks. And whereas I have cats; he has dogs. It's a pleasure to watch his training skills....if only he'd use them for kink now and then...The man is determined to add a puppy to my house. I've long wanted a guard dog with a superior nose to train as a tracker as an offshoot of other work I do. He may get me there yet...but I've always said eventually I'm going to stop dating and get a dog instead of boyfriend.
Incredible food today. Absolute beauty. Cozy at home with my giant 25 lb alpha cat and the fire...and full frontal MALE nudity on Saving Sarah Marshall. Love that!
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I miss the frequency of my dinners and tea with Darling Dom, but we managed a lovely curry evening. There's something just capital letters RIGHT about him. Intelligent, mannerly, real and kind. It's a gift to have a friend you can talk openly with and a mutual understanding of the permutations of kink is invaluable. We have a history and have seen each other through some hell-on-earth relationships. And OMG...funny...our conversation turned to the anal sex boundary CW keeps pushing with me. Darling Dom suggested I keep a few latex gloves and the big jar of vaseline at the bedside. Next time I'll snap on the glove, scoop a big dollop of vaseline onto the palm and say "You first."
I can tell him how even with his faults, I value CW deeply. When doubt begins to creep into my head, it doesn't stay. I know CW is monogamous and wouldn't have it any other way. Even more rare, he's loyal. The man protects and has my back in ways I haven't experienced before. He doesn't bring me flowers or pretty words but his actions speak. And that's what it's all about.
I was talking with DD about a previous relationship, a man I thought (and sometimes feel still is) my soulmate. Not a good man or even one who made me ultimately happy...but the very first love who brought out my bad girl. I'm as good girl next door as they get, but with him I let my moral compass spin. I LIKE being bad. Even more so I found it intoxicating how turned on he would get and how powerful I would feel having that side of me loved. I don't know if I'll get the opportunity to embrace my bad girl again. Quite frankly I'm not sure I'm up to that emotional ride. It takes a security that my partner won't judge, but celebrate that side of me. CW is a bit of a bad boy, so I don't trust him to keep me out of trouble should I slip. So no slip sliding to the dark side. But I find myself wanting to dominate or be dominated with more frequency. He can't give or take much of D/s play and it's not a necessity. But I do crave the opportunity to let go, to stop being uber responsible, and to be free to go a little more out of control, a little darker.
I'm problematic. In the middle of scene I lose myself. Hell, it happens in vanilla sex with me. I become all sensation and my mind quiets. It's so quiet that I can go too far. I don't feel pain. I don't say no. I just feel. Unless my man is controlled, has a handle on the psychological dynamics and knows me...well, I can get really hurt. When his blood is hot, CW doesn't have the control. Now that makes for some hot rough screaming o's, but we can both be stupid in the heat of the moment. I CRAVE rope. It's been years for me, but he isn't controlled enough. I think it's going to be up to me to elevate the kink...
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I'm coming to the end of a professional project. I feel lighter as a result, though I know my mind works much better occupied with challenges. A new one is on the way, but I will have a few weeks with the luxury of time for indulgences. I enjoyed indulging in the pleasures of CW today just before I had to perform. There's nothing like the post-coital glow and not an iota of stress left in my body to make me comfortable anywhere. I wonder if I look like I have a secret or just unduly relaxed all the time. Positive and low key tend to be what I project. I am the former, but the latter is a struggle as I'm passionate to excess at times. I fight it; I don't want anything to be so important that the loss is inconsolable. Baggage there as I am intimately acquainted with loss on so many levels.
I've been researching emotional abuse. I had an inkling that some of my primary relationships included such. But I found the idea of myself as a victim so distasteful that I can't admit it publicly. I should. Gaslighting. Withdrawal. Deceit. So much that a woman doubts her own perceptions. I spent decades not listening to my own instincts, believing them to just be a collection of emotional fallacies. Other women know what I mean, particularly if you try to speak up and are told you're "too sensitive" or imagining problems that aren't there. If I learn nothing else, it it to TRUST that little voice of disquiet. Women are instinctual, emotional and rational creatures. We can understand multilevels at a time, some without conscious thought. That instinct, that spidey sense, is a function of millenia of evolution...LISTEN to yourself first, keep your own counsel and do your homework, and then you'll reach certainty.
We all have power. As women we are all to eager to give ours up. Hold on to it. Don't give it all away. A bit here and there is more valued than gifting the whole shebang in one fell swoop. The Doms shake their heads; but really...how does it feel to have to work and earn something over just being given it. There's a value judgement there, right or wrong.
I've nothing against Doms, btw. I adore Dominance from both sides myself. I had my hair pulled, ass spanked, breasts grabbed hard from behind during doggy...and that was just this morning. But then I adore slamming a man back against the shower wall with his balls in my fist, feeling his breath hitch and his heart start to pound. The key is to sink to my knees in the water and take his cock deep in my throat in one smooth stroke. His knees begin to buckle and he will grope for the hand holds on the shower wall. I'll slip out of the shower stall and back to the bedroom around then and have him panting to fuck me again. That, gentlemen, is female power.
Pen
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Peace at last. We talked and said still the same things over again. It seems men (in the relationships I have been in) as they age get more like I remember myself as a young woman...an edge of neediness, the endless need to discuss, and desire for recognition of all they are giving. Of course I have my outlets; here for one. But I've learned that people seldom change; it's more a matter of what each chooses as faults they can accept. Talking gives you another's view; but it's rare that I don't know what my partner is thinking. But if a part of their personality gives you pain...as much as they with it didn't, they can't really change. There's always an interior clammoring to let them be who they are.
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Days of arguing with CW...I was trying to figure out why we were so ornery with each other. Thanksgiving miscommunications we handled.
The next one, the anal sex argument, was a big one; I felt both physically and emotionally ill post that debacle. There's something that smacks of betrayal in a vanilla relationship when hard limits are fucked with repeatedly. It's a very different thing when consent is given and a mutual power exchange is in place. But that wasn't this scene. It was a man who is very very good at working people, working me. There are some skills we have that can harm another that we agree not to use in our personal relationships out of love. His ability to manipulate is one of those skills and I felt deep betrayal. Add a bit of baggage at having been manipulated by my previous two loves and a some truly horrific anal sex, some used to punish me, and it's a cluster fuck of epic proportions. CW admitted grave fault there. I got over it and it was onward....
The third argument was just sheer imbecility. He chased me with half of a disgusting centipede. He thought it was hilarious. I was phobic and horrified and mad. So MAD. After a lovely dinner with great conversation, I couldn't wait for us to tuck in and finish healing and getting back to that perfect place. Y'all know what I mean...It might me that sensation you get from resting your head on his shoulder with his heat and arms around you and feeling your body just sigh and let go. Or the sense he gets when he buries his face in my hair and just absorbs my scent. Or it could be the post-coitus bliss of being completely sated. To me being enveloped in a man's heat and scent of his soap or cologne is as zen as meditation. I kept one lover's shirt when he'd been absent simply for that comfort.
In any case, days of conflict and I asked CW why he thought we were being so at odds. He answered surprisingly and stupidly via text that it was probably the end of the relationship. That created DAYS of angst. I was ready to call it quits just to STOP talking about it. Communication is important, but at some point you've got to let it go and DO. You just do the relationship or not. You talk, you kiss, you have sex, you move on. And you forgive the flaws. And you make damn sure to be more careful with your lover next time. It's not so complicated. If you're in, you're in and you try like hell. If you don't want to try, you don't want to be in it anymore. We are in; fingers crossed neither of us does anything stupid til we rebuild a bit more and remember why we adore each other. I think rough and ready me is going to need a bit of slow and sweet from my man. He is honest and loyal and fucks like no one. And he understands my need to feel both respected and protected. It's a tricky balance as he claims we are both alphas, but I'm going to keep on plugging.
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A good break, this Thanksgiving holiday. Not without angst and the inevitable loneliness at what my family is and is not. Single parenting makes holidays simpler, relaxed and without argument. But...it's also all on me to continue to present the 110% of me it takes to deliver the retro family life I want for my children. CW brought the idea up. He claims most parents have kids but don't parent more than 60% of the time. He tells me what I do is different. I'm not sure if it's a compliment or criticism. More likely both. But it is what it is and it's good. It's those times when they are not here and I'm alone that the notion of what I don't have creeps in and brings sadness. I fight it, but these shorter cold days fuck with one's psyche. I love the winter holidays and all they entail; I'm a traditionalist, but man, it's effort on top of effort to produce on top of other demands. Fortunately I had all weekend to recuperate to myself mostly, but CW and I had an altercation of sorts and it left me out of sorts.
Neither one of us handled Thanksgiving well. It seems the man always as familial obligations to people he doesn't even like. He's attempts to make it up to me take the form of sexual excess. Hell, that works for me. But we both felt significant-otherless on Thanksgiving I invite very few men into my inner sanctum as it is to spend time on family occasions. I issued a carefully casual one to him to stop by. But he worked on the holiday then ran out of time. We both ended up feeling unhappy at the result. It's been six months; time I decided whether I want this relationship to progress further or not. I hadn't realized the man wasn't content with my distance til we discussed it. I don't know if it's self protection, caution with my family, or just natural reticence that has me keeping him at bay. I love the man. His word is gold. He doesn't cheat. Doesn't make a promise he doesn't keep, but sure tries to worm his way around them without actually breaking his word....like with fucking anal sex.
I am so tired of his continual "joking" about anal. I told the man no. I suggested if it's a great priority to him, he welcome to find an ass to fuck. But not mine. Or if he's that intent, I'd give it a try as long as I peg him first. I've done it. Truly it's the best way for a man t understand what he is asking when he wants an ass fuck. It can change perspective. I'm a gentle kind sort, with some skill in prostate massage and genuinely want my man to to enjoy anal. And I'll give my ass if he will do the same. I can take an ordinary, say two fingers thick cock. Three or more and I bleed. Though with any anal insertion I suffer for days with cramps, nausea, excessive voiding, and sometimes an emotional sense of molestation. He asked if I'd ever been molested/raped. I've had minor skirmishes with inappropriate advances, but no one has ever forceably penetrated me. I've experienced anal orgasms, though infrequently. But far too often I've experienced a lack of skill that leaves me torn and bloody that I consented to. In some ways it makes me feel worse as it feels like a betrayal of trust in someone I love when I get that hurt. Add the days of recovery, alone, and my answer remains hell no. I''m happy for those who can take it without a wince, but I miss the days when fucking an ass didn't occur to most of the hetero population.
It's been a long time since I've been given a rim job. After a night of enough sex that my puss was kaput and practically swelled shut, CW went there. First time. Now I love a man who craves to worship a woman enough to do the same to her ass with his mouth. I'm not very fair as I have no desire to reciprocate, although I have out of common courtesy in the past. However, with CW I KNEW it was a round about way of trying to get past his promise of no anal without my consent. The man is good, but then he sure was motivated. I had my ass fucked with his tongue as I lay there on my stomach. I moaned a little and I liked it. But I had the sinking dread of what was next. A finger. I consented though it was the last thing I wanted to do, but after a man rims you it feels selfish to say fuck off and get away from my ass. Two finger. Ouch. Three fingers. The tears start to seep from my eyes as I know he's going to say what he did next. "Three fingers are about the same size as my penis." Sigh. Fucking double sigh. No, we did not proceed. I started just weeping. All I could think was fuck, we've had this talk. Here we go again. No means no. He waited, you see, til I was sated and completely vulnerable to him. All my walls were down and he pushed. He didn't break the word of his promise but he sure broke the spirit of it.
Why is it such a big deal? I've been manipulated by people I've cared about deeply. I've doubted myself and my perceptions to a debiliating extent. And I don't go all mushy and vulnerable for the unworthy anymore. I don't keep a balancing scale, but respect, honesty, transparency, and genuine caring are necessities to me if I'm going to be someone's girlfriend. The hurt part of me wants to dump him. The woman who makes mistakes part says to hold my horses. He took responsibility and apologized. The practical side tells me hang on til christmas as I've already bought him the most fabulous gifts and they aren't returnable. Silly, yes. But fuck if I know how to get over it. I'm so fucking tired of this anal sex discussion. He claims not to need it,. BJ's are first and I can bring him to his knees there. The sex is extraordinary. But the man can't seem to stop trying to work his way into my ass. Even from a few fingers I'm in pain and bloody. He's promised now to stop the anal sex teasing and not attempt unless I ASK. I'm not asking so I'm sure he's looking for a way to play with his words now anyway he can to prod me in the ass again. Next time I'm just going to shove my thumb up his with a smile.
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Pie Night. It's a tradition we invented to make the pre-turkey day labour into a Sawyer'ish paint-the-fence night. Pastry is one of my skills. Pie dough, or pate brisee, takes the simplest of ingredients and and transforms. Flour, salt, baking powder, butter galore, and the coldest water you can get...combine in the right way, keep it all cold, then add heat. We all love a little heat. Give that combo a perfect blast of heat and the tiny morsels of butter expand and steam. There you have it; the secret of perfect flaky pie dough.
This is when my harvest-filled freezer finally begins to empty. Sour cherries picked in June become cherry pie. Sweet Jersey white corn harvested off the cob is the base for succotash. Mirepoix....every chef's blend of diced onion, celery, & carrot becomes stuffing starter. The peels and bones and trimmings become the start of another of my Grandmother's legacies, turkey soup.
I never had holidays like I try to give my children. I remember my mother's drama and how every moment was fraught. Every holiday was ruined for her instantly if one of her chlldren failed her in real or imagined ways. And quite frankly the food sucked. I spoil mine with from scratch meals. My son asks why everyone else buys instead of bakes for the class activity. I'd buy too, but I can taste industrial ingredients. My palate has been spoiled by authenticity. I still like Slim Jims, Campbell's tomato soup, Lay's chips and french onion dip, and oreo cookies. But I can't abilde food that looks delicious and tastes like nothing.
This is my favorite holiday bar none. I've much to be grateful for. As does my family. And they do give thanks. I love this time tucked into our home, warm and out of the frigid rain. Several of the children are working on a jigsaw puzzle, my young man of a son is modifying nerf guns and creating duct tape fletching arrows in his seach to create maximum propulsion. Sleeping cats. Mise en place started in the kitchen...sausage cooked for tomorrow's stuffing, cherry pie filling thickened and cooling, spinach thawing for dip, cranberries popping with orange peel in the sauce pan....I LIKE this stuff.
Does it help that CW tucked me in as close as he could last night and kept me utterly warm? Or that he fucked me senseless? Perhaps the best part is that he strokes me. He's tactile like me. Constant touching, inhaling the scent of my hair, massaging the tension spots he now knows on me, and pillow talk until I drift off. That's real pleasure. Follow it by a happy break with my family and no drving with an ex who used to fall asleep driving...well now, that's damn good.
Enjoy it y'all.
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I've been overwhelmed without realizing it. Too long without fucking. Y'all are tsk'ing me at complaining of 10 days without cock. It's easier to go a long time without for me as my body gets used it and stays "off." But give me regular hard sex that's screaming o good, and damn if I don't run at a constant low purr of need. So yeah, a week is harder than months. Though the latter sucks more.
I also need some alone time. Endless paperwork sorting out my family and what the legal eagles require of me on top of the same professionally. Too many parties and obligations. A houseful of beautifully uniformed police officers last week; unfortunately we were too busy discussing a trespasser/potential pedophile for me to enjoy their presence. I become less and less a woman you want to fuck with as my tolerance for assholes and idiots is in inverse proportion to my recent windfall of resources that I have to combat the same. I like to be nice. Hell, I am one of the nicest, sweetest women people tell me they've ever met. Now there's a spine of steel there, but I like to live in a world of courtesy, respect, and fairness. I'll cut anyone a break a few times, as we all entitled to one or two spectacular screw ups. But then there are that hopefully minor population of assclowns who persist in fucking with me and mine...this girl-next-door is DONE.
CW is back. Thank heavens. And my parts are sadly out of practice at the art of fucking. I hurt! And it was only twice earlier. Usually I can take all the man can give but damn if I don't feel worn out. I'd best ice my swollen parts down as there's a long, pleasurable, very grownup night ahead...
Pen
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I'm a romantic. I try to remain practical and unmoved by words and most of the time I succeed. I've been called "beautiful," "baby," "my love,""darling." I'd rather he remember my name and do more than he says. It's action that tells where you fall in a man's regard.
As a romantic, I've gotten attached to places and memories. Some locales have haunted me if they were "our" place or have particular memories of being with a love. I passed through several of them this weekend, even stopping at one of "our" restaurants. Blessedly, nothing. No emotion. My thoughts on the long drive pummeled me a bit as I still on occasion want to kick myself for forming an attachment to an assclown. But thank heaven's the little town we visited has always been a place of solace to me and I never shared it with anyone other than my family.
I've chosen to stay in a few dysfunctional relationship in my life. Most because I didn't feel I had a choice; the participants were either family or we had a legal connection. One or two others I loved though I should've run for the hills. I've learned most were necessary in retrospect and I've finally been vindicated in those choices. I suffered and it was more like purgatory than a relationship, but it was necessary at the time. I think a few friends have judged me harshly for those choices; either because my emotional needs exceeded their ability to be friends or because I reminded them of how quickly a failed marriage can change everything about your life. I think they didn't want to hear or know because it was too close. But life went on without them and I met good people with less outwardly perfect lives who taught me I am not alone. Plenty of people raise children of good character from broken homes.
And hell, if nothing else the end of marriage made me find my orgasm. I never did with my ex. Close, tears leaking out of the corners of my eyes close, but I never knew. Then in my separated years I bought the first of a treasure box full of dildos and toys. The first time I squirted I thought they'd broken something when they performed my caesarean section a year or so before. Thank heavens for the internet and for a few good men who thought meeting a squirter was the holy grail. I still at times find the excess of response embarrassing. CW called it the "magic pussy." Silly as it is, it makes me feel good. All that work post-surgery on kegels created pelvic floor muscles that can milk a cock. Is it a skill I particularly celebrate? Nope. But it seems to make my partner thrilled as all get out, so good for him. He's travelling again, but does he disappear? Nope. He sends pics and texts and calls every evening. It's kind but more. It's action and it speaks louder than anything he can say.
Pen
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Utterly relaxed and today without worries. I seem to be drawn to lodging high on hills, like the house I grew up in. There's nothing like a wide vista to put things in perspective and perhaps I feel protected when I can see who's coming. It was worth the long drive to feel this sense of peace. Nothing I SHOULD be doing right now but just being in the moment whereas at home there are always tasks and people to take care of. My girl is along for the trip but she and I are two of a kind and work efficiently together and are kind and affectionate to each other. Fingers crossed she doesn't turn into a beastie as adolescence takes firmer hold.
CW us iff ti his other property playing great white hunter again. I truly don't understand the appeal of killing animals, but there are passions of mine he doesn't understand as well. I've been considering going still more Domme on him to see if it plays on his reciprocity gene and he gives the same back. His slaps on my ass are hesitant and he can't get himself past his gentlemanly code enough to grab my throat when we are fucking. Still he is the only man I've ever known who could deliver a sustained pounding without cumming for as long as he does. And the fact that three to four fucks like that in a night as a regular thing is more enticing than what we don't have. An insatiaby hard cock is a beautiful thing. Fucking me so well that my puss swells shut so it feels like a young womans...well, that's an achievement to be celebrated. Add the affection and his reluctance to let me go from his embrace....for a classic Alpha male that a beautiful thing. I need to appreciate that man more.
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I talk a good game, but boy I melt into CW when we are together. I'm tremendously grateful that he takes a med that has s side effect of high testosterone. What's the result? The man cums and cums and stays hard. Our libidos match in that both are very very high. We push our bodies' endurance. Last night was unusual after a break so 7 times in a night with both of us over 45 seems super humon to me me. And OMG I'm grateful. His mouth still gets him trouble as he enjoys provoking response from me and getting me hot under the collar. I don't enjoy the process as much. But today....oh, it wa a GOOD day.
Trouble this morning as my ex always tries to insert himself in my limitted private time. But it worked out. CW tells me my face takes on a blend of fear and distaste at the ex's text tone and even stronger when he calls. Fortunately his modus operandi is usually non response. As long as I can take the lack of courtesy, it's not a bad arrangement. I expect he's about to become even less communicative soon.
A meting with a new professional today to help sort the mess he's left me with. My grandmother would be surprised to find her money going toward such high-faluting people who are now working for me, the blue collar girl who left backhome for the city. But Yep, I've got the real deal on my side and the news today was remarkably positive. There is tremendous power in knowlege and I thnk her heaven-sent help to finally get me out ot the last remants of this attachment.
I've lived in fear. Fear of coming home to find myself and my children locked out of our house because of the financial mismanagement and repercussions. It's been paralyzing, sleep-depriving, and a very heavy weight. There's no one to save me. There just me to save my children. And I will. I'm beginning to think there is justice or call it Karma. If nothing else, at least I'm informed and know how systems work. It makes the seemingly impossible dealable. And I'm grateful. Thank you, my Gran, my guerdian angel, for getting us through.
Pen
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Veteran's Day. I just attended the ceremony in my town and I enjoy the Mayberry'esque quality to it all. I had a hero of my own once, a soldier, who I admired and loved desperately. I had blinders on, of course, seeing the uniform and the public service over the character of the man. It's left me a cynic. Now I think "military" and wonder how much each one cheated on their wives. Infidelity is a sin of opportunity. If you have the time and the space, so many will cheat. I've yet to find a truly honorable man who has stuck to his moral compass his whole life. Plenty of pretenders. A few who would be called reformed rakes in an earlier time. But damn there are a whole bunch of people who use others and throw them away out there and it saddens me.
A glass of cabernet before CW comes to take me to dinner. He is not a cheater now, but has done so infrequently in the past. I have caught him in lies over things not very significant. It tells me to beware as he might lie about bigger things. But then there's the old adage that everyone lies. I do. To get out of a commitment I don't want to make or out of sheer necessity to make my life easier with my ex, you bet. I feel qualms everytime I do though. I like playing it straight and open. Tonight is all about pleasure. I will have to keep CW from discussing the less positive issues going on in my life as it completely kills me and will ruin desire. I want to drink wine in one of my fav restaurants, talk, flirt, eat, seduce and be seduced, and fuck incessantly til noon tomorrow. I can for once and I'm gonna.
Wish us both screaming o's and the bed in ruins,
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I can be such a hard ass about relationships sometimes. Whenever we have a few betrayals in our history, we build up scar tissue. It toughens our hearts but we're all too aware of how vulnerable we are, almost weakened by the experience. So we let our brains protect our hearts since now we KNOW how easily they can break.
I went on about how CW missed me, but said little about whether I missed him. I did. And I also appreciated the time to reconnect with friends and just stay in and snug with tv and the cats. I have a new appreciation for watching television since I can't watch often and never in real time. Netflix, on demand, itunes, and huluplus...I love them all and the time to watch and stop when I'm folding laundry or need some downtime. It's even better on a rainy night when the fridge has great leftovers and I can drink pots of tea with the cats nearby. Such a normal thing, tv, and something I should indulge in more. I should do the same for alcohol too, I think. I just need a perfect snifter beverage since I lost my taste for Corvoisier. I'm such a librarian of a soul that I'd rather drink tea...
So CW...he came by today..and oh my came/come/cum all highlights of the late morning. Thank heavens. I'd forgotten the pleasure of that squeeze and I'd forgotten my own power to drive him mad. He has the same over me. Total YUM.
Pen
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CW apparently missed me a great deal. He's back in town and wants to see me, but it's a busy start to the week. We have a lovely evening planned soon and I need some grownup time. It was a great weekend with my children, sleepovers and pancake breakfasts, hopping in leaf piles (and doing all the work to get those leaves in piles), bike rides and birthday parties, and a little time for maintenance. The best of all was the joy of being able to sleep in. And only one emergency dental visit (any vacation without a trip to the ER is a good one to me.) But I'm looking forward to the challenges of this week as I've set up some good resources to help me. I'll likely be shaking in my boots, but full speed ahead.
It wil be a good week as I have something wonderful to look forward to next weekend and I need it. A respite with my favorite female on a pilgrimmage we make every year. Good food, good conversation, a tiny snug cottage on a hill overlooking the harbor, books and games, laughter and warmth. I've freed up a little more time than usual for CW midweek, so the two should have me feeling like the ground is a bit more solid under my feet. We all need a few people who have our backs and these two are good ones. I'm lucky as I have Darling Dom as well, though we are friends rather than rope buddies these days. The man knows how to be a friend and values me I think as much as I do him. I have to remember what I have rather than what I stand to lose. I'm trying.
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It's odd to have a boyfriend. I don't FEEL like I do, perhaps because I keep him compartmentalized out of the life I lead with my children. I prefer it that way. There is no push/pull tugging at splitting my attention between the children and him. He has offered all sorts of outings, but after their experience with their father's girlfriend I don't want then to deal with that anxiety. She despises my children and tells them so. Fortunately, their father has learned to keep them apart most of the time. I suppose I'm cautious since I was not fond of any of my multitude of step parents and to hell with putting the kids I'd rather snuggle with alone through similiar. Still CW issues invitations which I find charming of him. He has helped assemble basketball hoops and taken the boys' bows to be repaired, given them arrow and retrofitted equipment. It's a tricky balance and I know he thinks he wants to more. But he's younger than I and doesn't have children. I've no doubt my boys would latch on to him, but heaven forbid....they are still smarting from their father's withdrawal and I'm not giving another male a chance at them. I know CW wants me to say, sure, come by, but I don't. And he doesn't get it. Plenty of other mothers are much more relaxed about such things. I've friends whose boyfriends live with women with children. I'm still impossibly old fashioned about such public arrangements. I don't mind going kinky as hell in private, but I won't even consider living with a man I'm not married to...and I really don't plan on marrying again. I like mutual space. I like visiting privleges to each other's bedroom. There's no need to discuss sharing the bills or the chores. I can stay up late watching something silly. I can sleep in without guilt. My toilet seat stays down. I can sleep without anyone snoring or whistling beside me. BUT it all comes at a cost. There's a price for holding someone you care about at a distance. Sometimes I miss having a partner, but my ex was rarely here and I'm thin on partnering skills. I'd much rather flirt and fuck and keep each other as the best of stress relief. But I AM attached. That's me...always trying to make sense of things. Pen |
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It's odd to have a boyfriend. I don't FEEL like I do, perhaps because I keep him compartmentalized out of the life I lead with my children. I prefer it that way. There is no push/pull tugging at splitting my attention between the children and him. He has offered all sorts of outings, but after their experience with their father's girlfriend I don't want then to deal with that anxiety. She despises my children and tells them so. Fortunately, their father has learned to keep them apart most of the time. I suppose I'm cautious since I was not fond of any of my multitude of step parents and to hell with putting the kids I'd rather snuggle with alone through similiar. Still CW issues invitations which I find charming of him. He has helped assemble basketball hoops and taken the boys' bows to be repaired, given them arrow and retrofitted equipment. It's a tricky balance and I know he thinks he wants to more. But he's younger than I and doesn't have children. I've no doubt my boys would latch on to him, but heaven forbid....they are still smarting from their father's withdrawal and I'm not giving another male a chance at them. I know CW wants me to say, sure, come by, but I don't. And he doesn't get it. Plenty of other mothers are much more relaxed about such things. I've friends whose boyfriends live with women with children. I'm still impossibly old fashioned about such public arrangements. I don't mind going kinky as hell in private, but I won't even consider living with a man I'm not married to...and I really don't plan on marrying again. I like mutual space. I like visiting privleges to each other's bedroom. There's no need to discuss sharing the bills or the chores. I can stay up late watching something silly. I can sleep in without guilt. My toilet seat stays down. I can sleep without anyone snoring or whistling beside me. BUT it all comes at a cost. There's a price for holding someone you care about at a distance. Sometimes I miss having a partner, but my ex was rarely here and I'm thin on partnering skills. I'd much rather flirt and fuck and keep each other as the best of stress relief. But I AM attached. That's me...always trying to make sense of things. Pen |
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I'm starting to want less of my personal "what ifs," thank heavens. I get blue and seek escape and sure enough I want to go back to those particularly bad for me kickass fucks with men who turn out to be nothing like they seemed. Those are the sorts of relationships that leave a woman doubting herself. Lay with liars and cheats who clothe themselves in uniforms and honor and the roll of stellar single father...and find out they are nothing of the sort...well, you're left doubting your perception. A relationship that has a smart lady questioning her own instincts, take on things, and emotional health is a very bad thing indeed. But hell, the grass is always greener we think when our regular connection gets bogged down in the minutiae of life. It's bullshit, but seems part of the human condition.
I'm working hard on so many levels, throwing the shit out of my life that doesn't work anymore. And taking things that are of value to others and cashing out. Simplify, simplify, simplify...it's not an easy trick to get there and lighten your load. But I will. I am a manager. I learn systems and I work them. And if I can't, I find an expert who can. It's a whole lot tougher to do in your personal life. I suffer fear sometimes in degrees that paralyze me. But I can't let that happen. Knowledge is the key, and OMG the stuff I'm going to know after this. And I swear, all this damn pain is going help people because once my battles are done I am not keeping my mouth shut and being the good girl so much anymore. I'm teaching my daughter that it's okay to be just a little bad now and then so she doesn't drown in guilt at her pleasures. She works hard; she helps others; she follows the rules and she's a joy to be around. But she's got her cute-as-hell little evil side. I had it, but it was not allowed expression so I crave moments of self-destruction and rauchy pursuits to pull down and dark. She has the opportunity to express it and celebrate it so it becomes an integral part of who she is rather than an secret and occasional walk on the wild side. We need more wild women in the world.
Pen |
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Every day I learn more. Hopefully it will serve me well. They say knowledge is power; the problem is when you let an enemy know what you know, you lose that power. Showing one's hand is not always the best course. I'm angry enough to wish I could do such a "fuck you" gesture, but smart enough that I won't. Instead I'll do what I do best...watch, wait, research, assemble documents and do the math. I'll spend on the experts and conserve what I can and (fingers crossed) I'll come out the other side better than the present.
I stress. I worry. I perseverate (it's a word you don't learn until you have a child on the autism spectrum...that cyclical thing we thinkers do...worry a subject, lose sleep, let it spin around in our heads endlessly. It can translate to skill if you're a creative type, but it'll drive you mad. In an effort to stop such potential madness and sleep again at night, I've seen my doc for meds to help. There is nothing like a good night's sleep to ease anxiety and bring clarity and rejuvenation. Sleep is when we heal and our bodies perform essential functions. It's not the precise essential function my body craves right now, but there will be time for good hard fucking too soon.
I have been so worried and anxious that I've been craving past escapes with a vengance. All those things that too me deep to a zen sexual place of pure emotion and shut off my thoughts...uniforms, cucking, BDSM, rope, the corsetry and toys and mental games... And hell, I'll admit it...more than one well-endowed man fucking me at the same time gets my blood hot. I'm not gonna because hell, ladies, you need a protector for that kind of risk. I haven't even let anyone tie me in ages since that level is trust comes hard. I think the whole issue is my inner bad girl. She's still there, but I've had to behave. And CW doesn't bring out my real naughty since I really don't think he can handle it. I can go far more freaky than appearances would seem to dictate, but fuck, I don't want to be some out-of-control slut with an astonishing lack of judgement. Maybe once or twice I came close, but those were hard lessons learned.
Still, my last relationship was as deep and powerful as it was because he embraced my inner bad girl. I really kept her caged deep and didn't show that to many, but damn he brought it out. I felt safe as he confided deep dark naughtiness to me himself. When you celebrate each other's kinks and seek to indulge them, it's powerfully appealing. We worry about being judged for such, to have a partner delighted beyond belief at such raw sexuality is intoxicating. That I miss. I really really want to be very very bad.
Pen
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Cold weather, howling winds...shades of Hurricane Sandy this weekend including debris down. I enjoyed weather before Sandy, but those two weeks without basics changed us all here. We do the same if a plane is flying too low overhead since 9-11. There's a primal spark of anxiety as we ask ourselves if we are safe....Fortunately we are for now. A warm house, a garlic/thyme/rosemary pork rib roast in the oven with all those lovely roasted veges around it....it was a good night to welcome my children back from their father's weekend. They love coming home and our pets live for when they return. There are many things I've had to economize on lately, but I'm glad I can still manage a good old fashioned Sunday roast for them. We only fill half the table nowdays, but we are together and that is comforting in itself. There is a great deal of fear and pain in my life right now as a conflict gets myself and my adversary playing hardball. Battling debilitates me. My energy ebbs. My passion does the same. But I try to keep a the sense of a safe warm fire on the hearth for my children in an emotional sense. I am their safety zone. And I can be that. I just crave one of my own. These days the daddy Dom personal would comfort me and help me to escape, but I don't have that dynamic. CW is warm and welcoming and I'm grateful. He is good at relationships I'm told. And I can see he IS better than most. Fair, giving, sweet. He offers too much unsolicited advice and not enough crazy animal sex for my current tastes, but I suppose you can't have that kind of pounding kickass screaming o's when my head isn't in the game. I think sometimes of ceasing this since it s limits are not quite what I am looking for, but he's a good guy. I still wonder at times at my last long relationship with a man who was kinker but of a lesser character. I saw him as my soulmate for a long time. Although I don't want to repeat mistakes there, I wonder if he was my other half. It was a deeply vulnerable and passionate connection. But I'm still stuck with the notion that a "soulmate" can be a bad man. I think "soulmate" and I think "good person" as if he's heaven-sent. I wonder at myself for loving two such flawed men so deeply. I'd really prefer to love a man I admire who admires me the same, because of what a good person they are. Beautiful inside has always been more important than the outside. But then again, my last was not a beautiful man to anyone but me; he was decidedly odd looking. Small, big nose, myopic eyes, a tiny little mouth that would have liked to suck cock and the social skills of a flea....but he could be incredibly beautiful with his words and the way he fucked. And I actually valued his real world experience and direction. But I still wonder if any of the positive was worth the price. CW, on the other hand, is involved. Sociallly adept. Successful. More attractive certainly. Miles more honest. Plenty of faults too, but his are not faults of character but more of boundaries. I do feel safer with him than I have ever felt before. He will probably teach me skills of more use than anyone before. And he has shown me an insider's view of shore culture in ways that only he could. I know him on a soul level too as he and I are so much alike there. I'd think we'd have a family connecitin if I didn't know better, given our values and moral compasses. I've yet to determine if it's a good or not so good thing we are so much alike. He takes care of me even though I fight it. I want it while I struggle to accept it at the same time. Bedtime. Good luck y'all resetting your internal sleep clcoks with this damnable daylight savings nonsense. Pen |
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Oh it WAS as terrifying as expected. And as a woman who thinks and thinks and things (as most of us do)...I perseverated on it and just tortured myself and my lovely friends who let me vent and attempt to calm me. It seems I must be sending out karmic smoke signals and one of my closest friend who moved 250 miles away just showed up at my door this evening. What a glorious surprise! Thank heavens for good people who STAY good. I'm good and tired of Mr. Hydes. There is an illusion of normalcy returning and I am as prepared as one can be, but fuck what I wouldn't do for a day of doing just and only what I want to do.
Pen |
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Wheeeeeewwwwww.....a deep, deep exhale on my part. Some stressors past. (It's always the build up before that has me full of dread, rather than the actual experience itself.) More tomorrow. I allowed myself two strong Dark & Stormy's while I stretched and spun homemade Brazilian pizzas, heavy on the artichokes and kalamatas for me. OMG it was good! And now the best thing for me is sleep and a warm bed. Fingers crossed tomorrow isn't as terrifying as I feel approaching it.
Pen |
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Is it the change in season? Staying warm has never been easy for me without the heat of another body to warm up to. Or perhaps because I said goodbye to my previous lover last year at this time? I loved him quite desperately despite how bad he was for me. Or am I simply overwhelmed by responsibilities that inexplicably grow by the week? Or is it my Grandmother's birthday, the second one since her death that she is not here to celebrate with? I was in a flower shop the other day. She and I shared a love of gardening and I would bring her or send her bouquets whenever I could. I've had no one to send flowers to for a long time. Nor have I been brought flowers myself; CW is not one of those men even with his other good qualities. I love them. They cheer me, especially with scent. But they also sadden me that I can't give them to the one person who appreciated them even more than I. I'm a bit of a mess. And I'm losing it. But I haven't the luxury of losing my mind as I have to hold it all together for people more important than my moods...my children.
I'd welcome the release of pure animal fucking, the dirtier the better. But I'm in a relationship. We go there, and often. But I'm holding myself back with him right now. He will be traveling, as will I, and I need distance to deal with the physical withdrawal. I hate that he hunts. Growing up in a western Pennsylvania family who hunts, I should get it. But it always made me feel queasy and still does in a sense. I get that he's humane and it's a primal skill. I appreciate that he either donates meat to the needy or has it butchered and cured for himself. I've even had my share of venison and game bird frou frou meals. But the idiot sending me pics of a deer he shot or the blood on his pants repulses me. Yep, I love meat. And all meat is a slaughtered animal. Our steaks are likely killed less humanely than he hunts. But I need the sanitization of grocery store shrink-wrapped neat pieces of meat. I understand the dichotomy of my views, but the little girl part of me still needs to be insulated from the less desirable parts of life. I suspect the fact that I don't have anyone who coddles me just a little is part of why I'm so fraught. There's just enough of the baby girl in me to want someone else to take care of me and keep a bit of pretty to decorate the hard bits of life.
I'll escape ahead. I need to get back to my personal de-stressors...daytrips. NJ, PA, CT, NY....even when things seems overwhelming, when you get in your car you always feel like you are GOING somewhere! It's silly, but it works. And hell, given the opportunity, I'd run. If it were just me, I'd pack up and head south or west. But I really do suffer when I've betrayed my moral compass so I won't. And I won't be self-destructive either. I just need to find that irresistable reward to hold out to myself for taking the emotional hits and working my ass off. If I have a golden ticket to look forward to, then I can shrug off more as just temporary. My problem now is that I don't want anything for myself that I see as achievable right now. Some long-time goals are coming to fruition, but they've been so long coming that I gave up wanting them. It doesn't feel like achievement to get there. I'm hoping I'm just a hormonal late 40's woman feeling all this and that it passes, but damn I still feel like I'm slogging through jello everyday and yes, I'm tired still...
Pen |
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Reading over my past few entries, TIRED features. I am still fighting that pervasive sense of exhaustion. Conflict now is unavoidable, even though my role is primarily as a mediator. I don't want to be the peacemaker when it is taking such a toll. It's more than physical tiredness. I'm beginning to think I haven't the resources to cope. It seems most of my relationships are unbalanced, taking more than they give. I'm not sure if it's faulty perception on my part or truth. CW is focused on his hunting interests, though he tries to get together in the time that remains. Expecting me to be present when it's convenient for him sets my back up as I'm often not available. I have commitments of my own. He pouts and takes offense like a child and I have enough children to care for. I had asked to take a break for 6 weeks while he travels and hunts, but he took offense. I'd prefer no attachment over unsatisfactory. The suggestion was not received well.
I know what I need to do...escape. A weekend away or such would clear my head and make me happy to be home again, with all the responsibility it entails. I'm sure part of my problem is envy of CW's wealth and freedom to go, even though his life has even few choices in some ways than my own. I should feel proud of my relative achievement towards goals that have been a long time coming. But sometimes you work so hard and so long and suffer chronically that you're too tired to rejoice in that coming to an end. I see too much loss. And here I am not appreciating what I do have. Definite need of an attitude adjustment here. The majority of my time is spent doing "musts" over "wants." I'll need to change that.
In the mean time, proper food and rest and fresh air will hopefully clear my grumpy little head.
Pen |
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Tired of fighting. Tired of doing the right thing. And tired of political machinations. I'm vege'ing with Netflix of the Criminal Minds episodes I missed. Hell, that'll show you how bad things can really be with all the sick fucks out there. After this I might just keep my firearms closer. But somehow it's cathartic since they always seem to solve the case. And I always seem to get through. More battles ahead, but I'm listening to my instincts and I think they'll serve me well. But damn if I don't need a good hard fuck soon.
Pen |
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Tired, jittery, and dreading a meeting filled with people I am in conflict with tomorrow. The cure? A rough hard fuck and screaming orgasms. I'll just glow my way through it all...
Pen |
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It's an interesting sensation for a woman of a certain age to feel her power again. Ageing women are listened to as we generally have more economic and social power than the younger women we once were, but a man taking a second glance or his eyes widening when my gaze meets his...well that happens less. I've enjoyed the process of becoming invisible and more anonymous since in my youth I attracted unwanted attenion. But it gets old. As much as I am admired for my skills and my mind, a woman wants to be noticed. But it's tricky. We don't want to be noticed for trying too hard or for something less than admirable. I find MILF an offensive term, combining motherhood and fucking, even though it takes one to achieve the other. A woman wants to be noticed because a man can't help but to do so. That's the irresistible power of being a woman and oh, it's a pleasure to have it back. Perhaps some of the credit goes to CW who finds me sexy as hell when I'm the plainest Jane I can be....but then I added a bit of drama to my look and he's surprised and ever so turned on. It's a beautful thing when a man you've dated awhile still can't barely restrain himself from fucking you long enough to go to dinner. I'm still recovering from the other night and it's sheer pleasure to hurt in the most intimate spaces of my body.
Pen |
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It's an interesting sensation for a woman of a certain age to feel her power again. Ageing women are listened to as we generally have more economic and social power than the younger women we once were, but a man taking a second glance or his eyes widening when my gaze meets his...well that happens less. I've enjoyed the process of becoming invisible and more anonymous since in my youth I attracted unwanted attenion. But it gets old. As much as I am admired for my skills and my mind, a woman wants to be noticed. But it's tricky. We don't want to be noticed for trying too hard or for something less than admirable. I find MILF an offensive term, combining motherhood and fucking, even though it takes one to achieve the other. A woman wants to be noticed because a man can't help but to do so. That's the irresistible power of being a woman and oh, it's a pleasure to have it back. Perhaps some of the credit goes to CW who finds me sexy as hell when I'm the plainest Jane I can be....but then I added a bit of drama to my look and he's surprised and ever so turned on. It's a beautful thing when a man you've dated awhile still can't barely restrain himself from fucking you long enough to go to dinner. I'm still recovering from the other night and it's sheer pleasure to hurt in the most intimate spaces of my body.
Pen |
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The joys of a younger man...did I mention CW is a bit younger than I? Heavens, he's sweet. Add multi-orgasmic, stays hard after he comes, a libido off-the-charts, and just as affectionate as he is sexual and OMG, I'm pretty damn happy. We discovered we'd met decades ago, back in my days of summer Sunday nights when locals would start at the Warren Pool Bar, meander over to the Parker House, then finish the night at The Porch. Those were beautiful nights of lots of alcohol, sweet young things, and less clothing. He tells he tried to seal the deal for about three weeks back then, but I was a hard sell. Other than make out, nothing more happened back then. We laugh at the 20+ years it took him to get in my pants.
And thank heavens I let him in, I want to keep him in there deep. He's a rough fuck and I've been used hard a half dozen times in 12 hours. I'm very very grateful if a bit dehydrated. He's made me drink Gatorade (which I despise) as my legs were cramping from the dehydration of all that coming. I think my edgy new hair & clothes (completely at odds with my usual conservative looks) have him thinking he has a new girlfriend. Hooray for motivation!
Pen |
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As difficult as these odd holidays are for parents who work, I enjoy the enforced time with my children. That extra Monday makes the weekends freer to take your time and still get what needs to be done. I first moved to the Northeast from what some call the Midwest ( I never thought my hometown quite far enough west to qualify) on a Columbus Day 26 years ago. I look at who I am now compared to the very proper mouse I was then and am (ALMOST) thankful for all the fuck ups that made my life both harder and richer. I really was not much fun, but pictures tell me I looked lovely. Young women have so much power, but they don't feel it at all. The magic of a young pretty puss with unlined skin, curves in all the right places, and gravity defying breasts. Mine were perfect cones and most of my lovers then were in awe and had never seen anything like them. I found them embarrassing, along with my too-dominant ass, lips that were too full, and skinny stick arms.
Now, thank heavens, I've grown into my body though it's far different at 49. More muscular, but also more padded, those stick arms strong after carrying children and hard physical work. Bigger breast thanks to the same children which I love and didn't have to supplement artificially to balance my hips. Same round ass, but thank god a dozen men have worshipped it enough to make me grateful. I could do without the stretch marks or the c-scar which gives me that telltale apron flap of skin that dismays me, but it's a little price to pay for the sheer joy of my babies. My lips I used to try to consciously make smaller, still make some men's eyes widen. When I whisper naughtiness with them, it can bring them to their knees. It takes a long time for a woman to grow into herself. And so I have. Those messy o's are my lover's golden grail, so I stop wincing at the excess of being a sometimes squirter and enjoy his pleasure. There are blessings to a lover you know who adores you instead of starting over and over with the self-consciousness that comes with the unknown.
The biggest thing I've learned is to embrace my dark side. I don't get to indulge it often, as I chose to hide much of individuality to conform to my neighborhood
s norms for my children's sakes. I always tried to do right and be good. But sometimes I need to be very very bad. And I need a man who will celebrate me when I am at my most carnal and perverse.
Pen
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I've been a nitpicking maniac on wheels lately, worried about making the wrong choice for my son. Conflict, meetings. visitations, delays, and endless emails have made my head spin, I wasn't successful in procuring him what I thought was best and it's killing me since it will have long term effects. But I am a fatalist, believing everything happens for a reason. So I'll have to find my positivity and optimism again and get moving on a new course. But the choices remind me of election day....a choice of the lesser evil rather than anyone I can support unequivocally. I just hope I don't fuck up his life by making the wrong choice for him. I still wonder who the hell put me in charge of these beautiful children. I adore them, but I sometimes haven't a clue what I'm doing.
Thank heavens for the release of pure fucking. CW and I share the same excess libido and I'm grateful. If we can fuck before a stressful meeting or a professional assessment, I sit there feeling the cum damp on my thighs...glowing skin, and utterly self-possessed. I wonder if anyone can guess my secret? It's all in being well fucked and often...
Pen |
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I rarely apologize when I'm wrong. A great fault of mine. I gave CW a very hard time because of his use of of a phrase I found offensive. The man's mouth is a minefield. He thought it was complimentary to my ass; I thought he was calling me fat. Classic. I looked it up later and his word usage was right; slang often escapes me. Did I apologize? Nope. And I don't even know why. I was just really really nice. It must be something about keeping the upper hand or dominance. I don't like that about myself and found the need to write it down so I know it's something I need to work on. I don't want to turn into a rigid, provincial, ice cold old lady who thinks she's always right and can't admit when she isn't. Growth is the goal, even when my hair is white, and my body creaks.
Pen |
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Remarkable. I've caught a break and am grateful. Fighting hard for my eldest son as always to make sure the interventions he needs are implemented (key elements had not). Fighting his father as well. I have a young and inexperienced case manager who shifts problems to someone else and is argumentative. I kept calling and kept talking. Finally managed to have one special ed teacher willing to talk to a higher level mathematics teacher who sent home the worksheets of what the advanced level classes have done this past month. I created a competition with my son and did the equations as well, seeing if we could get the same answer. He laughed and found my math floundering hysterical and taught me! And I'm left feeling grateful and in awe of his intelligence. Low expectations make us all feel entitled to less in life instead of pushing ourselves to achieve. I had begun to think I was on the wrong track with my boy, being blocked at most turns. And even worse, I had begun to doubt his intellect. Thank heavens for people who go the extra mile; they have no idea how a seemingly small gesture can make a big impact. If I have to I will learn and teach my son myself advanced math. but it seems he might be the one to teach me as he been the single factor most responsible for my personal growth. Love that boy. I even had to pull in his father who is willing to step in and make a rare appearance at the school meetings in support of my position and THANKED me. Unbelievable, perhaps he will see I'm not the gold-digging crazy bitch from hell he tells everyone I am. It shouldn't matter. Even though he bears little resemblance to the honorable and caring man I met when I was 20, he's still the father of my children and it hurts.
CW is back in town. And he's horny. As am I. Add to that elements of romance and caring and I'm so there. I am just plain longing for an adult dinner with wine and conversation and flirting. And oh, dessert....kissing, stripping, touch, fucking....There is NOTHING like that first slow slide of cock inside me. That and the moment of a man's spurt of an o as the heat of his come hits my cervix then coats my insides is nothing I can experience alone. The two most exquisite moments of fucking to my way of thinking.
Pen |
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I swallowed my simmering female rage and told CW how I felt. He admits to not handling things well and called me tout suite. It was rather lovely, if I was teary at his seeming disregard. (And I, contrary as I am, WANTED to be left alone...til I WAS.) He cannot bear when I am upset. I rather love that. Another long conversation tonight and knowing he's alone at the lodge and missing me makes me feel loved and supported.
I was in still more tears as my children arrived home from their father's via a babysitter/secretary who works for him. They were hurt that he left still again without spending the 2 1/2 hours he agreed to on Mondays with them. I can't explain it without hurting them more. Other things are more important to him than they are. It's cold and hard and true. But I can't tell them that. They feel it though I'm sure. I know the feeling intimately myself and it caused me no end of damage. All I can teach them is how to advocate for themselves and tell him what they need. He may not listen and it may not make a difference. But he is certainly not going to listen to me. An hour and a half of tears, talking to the sitter/secretary about what in the world was wrong, giving consequences to the children who exhibited poor behavior (even though it wasn't on my watch), and then getting the offenders out of the house so another teary child could finish the homework she spent the entire time trying to do and couldn't in the chaos.
I hate picking up where he left off which seems to always be the children in the lurch. They love their father and all they want is a bit of time with him. I can't comprehend his attitude. Mind you he's a business-owner and has flexible schedule. I want to whip his ass. Instead I tucked my children in, one-by-one, and pillow talked them each to sweet dreams. I truly wish I could be all they need and keep them safe forever. But somethings I can't fix.
I'm daring to believe I just might be free one day from the endless negotiation, peacekeeping, and towing the line the past decade of my life has been. In the meanwhile I need my little rebellions to keep me peaceable and burn off my fury. Hard, naughty sex. Road trips. People who get it and get me. Dark & stormy's. A splurge on a deep deep tissue massage. I just have to keep the emotions down but damn, it's not easy.
Femme
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Well, it seems my appeal and/or the appeal of sex is waning. CW didn't show up after all this morning. I should be relieved. But I'm a woman so instead I feel pissed even though I'd likely feel the same even if he DID show. Hormones are fucking with my equilibrium, increasing my edge. It creates an incredibly productive, energetic, results-oriented me. But it also leaves me feeling bruised, tender, and alone.
Pen |
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I'm told if you need help, ask for it. Not something I've ever been fond of doing. But I'm learning. Social support is crucial And we've all gone through myriad experiences that we can help another through. When betrayal issues come up, I'm the one to reach out to as hell, I know that stuff and the recovery cold. It still sucks, but in the midst of it myself, I found my only peace in the mantra that if my pain could help someone else, it wasn't all for naught. And I'm progressing at least in my legal transition of disentangling more from my ex. It's still complicated, but step by step and reams of paper and hiring my own bully (they call them attorneys!) is freeing me. I still get scared shitless. But I'm not going to let fear cage me. Hell, I'm not going to let anything cage me. CW sprung a sudden change in schedule at me and I reacted calmly but was a bit cold. I knew he was leaving for another property midweek, but figured we'd have time to touch base after a huge workload of a weekend for us both. He kept at me all day to come by and see him but I had too much to do myself and children in the mix. I couldn't understand his persistence as he didn't tell me he was leaving tomorrow until a few hours ago. My morning is full and he's pissed I didn't make time for him. And I'm less than pleased myself as I would have tried had I known. Ultimately this is all about his great white hunter alter ego. Mind you, I have never dated a hunter. And given a choice, likely would choose not to. There's not much on the internet, but it seems October to New Years men like this hunt. Apparently hunting is obsessive and time sucking. Forget about Thanksgiving or Christmas. They hunt. I've never heard of all this before and find it....well...kind of ridiculous for a man who doesn't need to hunt and has endless freezers still stocked full from last year and taxidermy enough to furnish Cabelas. I haven't actually laid eyes on him since my last rail at him for still pushing for anal sex. Likely not the way to leave it, so he will probably show up early tomorrow morning looking for sex before he leaves. I am neither horny nor feeling remotely cooperative at present. But he'll sit in a tree stand for hours on end alone with his thoughts and do or say something stupid if I don't at least make some sort of concilatory gesture. Quite frankly, part of me is just piqued as I wanted one night this week to be back to our fllirtatious dinner/kickass sex/conversation/pillow talk/snuggling time. He's taking away my boy toy and I'm pouting. Silly me. Pen |
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Life has gotten in the way of my musings here. I take parenting as a sacred duty and try hard to do my best. Loving them, affection, details like good meals and fresh laundry, structure and consequences...they are all second nature to me and I LIKE those details. There's a zen to the simplicity of such duties, unlike the rest of life. The sacred part of parenting to me is preparing my children for independence...taking stock of their strengths and weaknesses, nurturing those strengths and addressing teaching coping skills where needed. I was not raised by parents who were around much, let alone gave any thought to preparing me for life. As a result, I was more clueless than most. It's not academics and choices of colleges that lead to success in life; it's coping skills. And that's what I'm trying very hard to not miss in the shuffle of academics. But transition is ahead for my eldest and most challenged child and oh, I feel for him. I'm inexperienced, researching and looking at where he is versus where he needs to be to pursue his passions, educating myself and him so we can make a decision of what school is next. I can take making a mistake for myself easy. But making choices for him that aren't right is a responsibility that sometimes overwhelms.
Looking for pics of my son for the class DVD, I opened the hamper I brought from my Grandmother's house over a year ago when she passed. I haven't been ready to open it again. Her scent of roses, Downy, and the indescribable scent of the house I grew up in is still there. I took most of her linens though I'm not ready to do anything with them. I still use towels she gave me decades ago. And the embroidered pillowcases I love. I miss her more now as fall approaches and soon the 2nd birthday I haven't had her to send flowers and cards from the children too. The box had every car and the hundreds of photos I sent her over the years, many of them formerly lost to me from my first computer crash. It's a tremendous gift. I found a decades old pic of myself at my prime in 1994, all shoulder pads and silk scarf and trench coat with long dark hair. I look happy and impossibly young at 28. I regret marrying. But then in the next breath I don't because I have the children and I know I was meant to be their mother. I feel more deeply now than the young woman in the pic...both pleasure and pain. The jury is still out on whether the pleasure is worth the pain.
Anal sex. Completely different subject, but perfect place to talk about it here. I realized today I've never had anal sex that I wanted. It was always something I let myself be talked into usually because I had a connection to my partner and it was important to him. I'm going to say it here and loud. I FUCKING HATE ANAL SEX. It's never completely clean. It hurts like hell. And I'm usually sick for three days after even if he knows what he's doing. And I inevitably bleed as there's scar tissue from my last long relationship with a guy who didn't know what he was doing with me. CW loves it. I told him no from the beginning unless I could fuck his ass. He's not quite as kinky as that. It's fine as ass play has never really thrilled. But he pushes and pushes. Today he tried a finger as I was vulnerable and post-multiple-o's. It wasn't so much consent I gave as a sigh when he insisted because I was sick of being asked. I realized I've only ever said yes because they push when I'm sated and vulnerable and utterly relaxed. And gentlemen, it's an asshole move. I kicked CW to the curb, sent him to shower alone, made my bed pristine and new without a hint of him or his scent and tearfully sent him on his way. I hadn't realized til that moment that I've never ever really wanted anal any of the times I've had it before. CW and I managed to get past it, as I came very close to telling him to find someone else to fuck, but we're good. But I'm not going to let the man tie me. There aren't many men I'd trust these days for that. Those who practice D/s understand there's a responsibility when a sub puts such trust in you...a sub is WORK and responsibility and takes a tremendous amount of care. Men go sub for me because they know I won't hurt them even though they want me to. But not everyone gives the same level of care. Seriously folks, if any of your playmates don't lavish care on you, whether it be hard or soft, there's something very wrong there.
Pen
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Solved the mystery of the blitzo'ed lil ole me...Alcohol DOES go bad. And I've a houseful from way back when the ex and I entertained. Created a blueberry martini with vodka, Cointreau, simple syrup, mango juice and blueberry popping boba. I think it is the first time I've ever had a bad trippy episode. I was NOT myself and clueless to boot. Had CW help me pour out and toss all the remaining alcohol in the house that was more than a month old. The public works guys are going to wonder on recycling day...it looks like I had a hell of a party. I just hope to NEVER go that far el blotto again. CW thought I was seriously tripping on drugs. So don't think old liquor lasts forever...let someone who knows smell it and taste it...I swear I'm not going any stronger than caffeine for a week.
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I, of all people, should NOT drink vodka. OMG I turned into a rowdy one last night. I can't even explain it well without seeming like a total freak. CW did benefit in one of the best bj's of his life, but hell he deserved it for putting up with a truly wasted me. I've forbidden myself vodka and poured the rest of the Absolut down the drain. Yep, it was THAT bad. Amusing. But I'm rather horrified. Can't figure out whether to laugh or blush. i made some people EXTREMELY uncomfortable and that's really NOT like me unless we've a mutual social contract to go there. Damn. I needed to relax hard core, but I think I went way beyond relaxed. I'm gonna be a good girl and stay home and behave myself this evening.
CW is being reassuring and thank heavens he has a great sense of humor as his girlfriend was OUT of control.
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I always expect my few free nights to be pleasurable. Last night had the potential to be stellar with my favorite Gnarly Head cabernet and a truly fine shared steak. I've been feeling carnivorous in the extreme. If I could bite and torture a proper sub, no doubt I'd sate my craving. Just a nibble....to catch a fold of skin between my teeth and feel him go very still and hold his breath wondering if the pain will increase or not is such a naughty pleasure.
I slept little last night. Restless after a tiff with my bedmate...his need to introduce past lovers to our pillowtalk kill my libido. A waste of time discussing whys and wherefores when all I wanted to do was fuck hard and dirty and sleep. We salvaged it, but the lack of sleep did me in. Very challenging and very early morning followed by serial stresses galore. I'm juggling several life altering balls right now and trying hard not to drop even one. I suppose I should be grateful that what I do has relevance, but too much and I start to slip in the quality I can deliver. I performed poorly on a task I thought I did well. Stupid errors that I was convinced I did perfectly. Clearly I have a lot more to learn. And sleep to sleep.
I have a battle ahead and for once I'm taking the lead as the aggressor. As furious and convinced of the necessity as I am, I fight moments of sheer fear. Several have told me I'm a warrior at heart and can be very powerful in a fight. But this is rather like the cold war...destroy the uneasy truce and escalation is bound to ensue. But I've sat and waited and negotiated and placated and taken endless passive hits and some very active. My limits have been breached and I've had it. So here goes.
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I have seen men (and women alike) who only treat those who are of use to them well. And how well they behave towards another is in direct proportion to how much of use that individual is to them. But then there are those who treat everyone who crosses their path with respect, even the disenfranchised who rarely get treated well. I have a few people in my life who are like that. And have tried hard to leave behind those who don't.
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It's interesting. CW and I discussed our "break up" argument of last week during pillow talk last night. When he did it via text and I wished him well, he tells me it impressed him. Hell, if I've learned anything...even when you feel like exploding it's best to not if you can hold it. And outclass 'em. I haven't always been able to. Particularly when the breakup is betrayal-oriented. Lie to me and lead me on and I want to punish. But I realize it's not my job to punish those who do wrong, unless the offender happens to be my child and it's a consequence. There are so many amoral adults out there, men and women both, who are users. I've tried not be one of them, nor to be one of their victims but I'm a sucker at heart. When someone tells me they love me, my heart just opens wide and I embrace them fully. I was never a woman of strong boundaries, even though I tried to lead a moral life. I embrace my partner's interests and say little of my own which I either delay or pursue privately. I'm learning but I am a pleaser at heart. Hence my sub side. But oh, I switch because tell me what to do or offend me, and I come out swinging with cutting words. The problem is I can almost always be softened by a proper fucking. To me it's healing and feels real, even when it's a bit of an escape.
I'm still trying to find my way as the past decade has seen the life I built for the long haul shatter. I've learned the word "no." I've learned boundaries. I've learned more about kinky sex than I probably should know. I've, blessedly, learned how to have screaming squirting o's. I've learned to take care of myself so I can take care of those who depend on me. And my faults have come up to smack me in the face so I can decide if I like them or want to change. I'm glad to have a man with a long local history in my life who people I know, know. I'd almost forgotten how agonizing it is to be with a man who lies and makes you feel as if you're the one who's screwing up the relationship. I'm learned to trust my instincts for the first time in my life when it comes to men. I'm glad CW is here even if he does take up a ton of time. He was so incandescently happy last night. It's something to see when you realize it's you who made someone that happy. And it's better than a good screaming o.
I can still feel him on my and in me. I've always been a sucker for possession. To feel thoroughly claimed, especially sexually, turns me on to no end. And I return the favor. I got a little rough with CW in the shower, pushed him up against the wall, tortured him with cold cold water. The man couldn't keep his mouth shut, so I whipped him with the shower puff filled with foam...in jest, but I did a job on his balls. Grab a man by his balls and it's lovely to see how submissive he gets. But by and large, it was I who took all he had to give last night. And it was a great deal to take.
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Mmmmmm.....my inner bad girl had more rein last night than I'd given her in a long time. CW brings out the prim in me at times...the hazards of dating local when I AM such a prude in some ways. I've gotten damn tired of being "good" and "nice." I'd rather be unabashedly sexual, all woman, powerful, and passionate. That's always been part of me, but Ive spent a life only letting that show in the bedroom. Last night might have been the most rawly sexual night of my life. Shades from other relationships...sinking to my knees to suck him....I love the position. It seems so submissive, but when you do it right his legs start to shake and it's a struggle for him to stay standing. There's power in making a strong man weak with just my mouth. I'm still washing linens from last night. Definitely crime-scene-like in the aftermath. Overwhelming in that I did finally become all sensation and the only thoughts I had were of awe that our bodies are still capable of such and mine that I can take what I can. A night when you can't remember how many times he or I came, is a good night. 14 hours of fucking with some sleep and fucking the morning away too...thank heavens my libido has reappeared. Still, he will be a hard man to match/keep up with. And he was holding out. Some new technique...he know so many of my buttons and with an angle adjustment can make me scream. It was depraved how far we went and very, very dirty. And I want to go again if can just get the swelling down on my nether regions...A fucking good night.
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A time away from the shore crowds, I headed north with my children to a renaissance festival. My first time. Heavens the breasts on display, corseted up high. Most of the mountains of flesh I wish I could have chosen to forego the dubious sight. Definitely an overabundance of flesh that had not and likely should not see the light of day in public. Men in tights, though...well, that was rather lovely indeed. Stunning tight asses everywhere....and talk about frontage....HOWEVER, mine was a PG outing focused on entertainment. I enjoyed the theatre of it, add knives, swords, lances....all that phallic symbolism left me thoroughly enthused. Give my children the opportunity to throw knives and axes, shoot arrows, and wooden sword fight at will and publicly....well it's heaven on a stick. I think my youngest thanked me a dozen times....
I often get cabin fever. I need to leave periodically to appreciate my home. This was a good overnight and I plan on continuing another solo (though CW is trying to change my mind) roadtrip soon. I've always been fond of running away from home, as long as home is still there to come back to. I may just drag CW along to the city as much as he's trying to get me to go to his country property....He needs to stray from his familiar stomping grounds. We can both be change-adverse. I've learned that stepping outside my comfort zone makes my blood zing and I feel just plain better now and then. He's intrigued, so we will see. But I need something to stimulate my brain....could be art/literature/new food/beauty/science...an exhibit of some sort. I adore natural spaces, but I've spent days renovating my wild kingdom outside and now I need civilization and some proper tea. Or maybe exotic food. IDK...I just know I deserve one more freedom run before buckling down to a schedule that begins to seem carved in stone.
I've gained much insight to CW from a lovely woman who corresponded with me. She reminded me how she missed familiar flesh and how lovely it can be over the stumbling efforts of starting again and again. Not to mention the moment of self consciousness that hits a woman of a certain age when her clothes fall with a new lover. CW is a problem solver. If I he isn't working on a solution somewhere in his life, he creates a problem to solve. Sometimes he does it with me in our relationship, unconscious, I think, at the time. I don't hand over my personal burdens, but am more apt to spin them positively or vent when I need to. But I need to give this man problems to ruminate over. He needs to solve things. He thinks it's his role in a relationship. I figured I'd start with mechanicals...power tools and the car...particularly since my weaknesses in those areas are myriad. He tells me of my reticence to share much. It's worked well in the past...that air of mystery, of not being able to quite figure a woman out, that males find appealing...And hell, I'm pretty solution oriented myself only I prefer to lead.
Images of chain mail keep finding their way into my head....I've a gorgeous chain mail flogger and I adore metal toys...I'm watching more than my share of kink porn these days and I keep finding odd coils of rope I've tucked away here and there. But I control freak that I am, I won't let him tie me. Yet.
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Well today was something. CW and I had a tiff yesterday. He was telling me again what to do with my time and my family in these last days of summer. I did not take his interference well as usual. He has no idea the balancing required between work and play I do. I said something to the effect of who did he think he was? My father, ordering me around???....It got rid of the pressure and him yesterday afternoon. He decided while surfing this morning, that he didn't need my shit and sent me a TEXT breaking up. Yes, darlings, I was taken aback. Mr.-Texting-Is-Evil-and-I-want-to-hear-your-voice-on-the-phone???? Rude and seriously assclownish. Thank heavens for Darling Dom's voice of reason as I was floored. Well that and a Xanax. Hell, I'll admit it. I took a fucking Xanax (legally prescribed to me) to avoid perserverating and so my children wouldn't see me cry. They've seen their father send me into tailspins and I'm not letting them watch me fall apart over another guy.
I responded with an "okay and wish him well." Then I started to bake. I always bake when my world starts to implode, even a bit. It's my therapy. To build something out of nothing then give it away. I was half relieved as there's so much pressure there. But I was also saddened. And completely pissed off that he pulled an asshole move via text. So I baked he and his curmudgeon of a dad the most kickass blueberry pie imaginable, low gluten, but killer....boxed it, and dropped the warm pie at his business, shook his hand, wished him well, and left. Outclassed him. Went home and packed up my family to the pool. An hour later I get a text. He was outside watching the ocean, asking me to please come and talk with him. I did. And I don't know if I did the right thing even now. He did apologize for his asshole move. Told me I don't take criticism or advice at all well. He's right. I don't if it's unsolicited. I'm told by a friend next time he criticizes me for my "fuck you" reaction to tell him "hey, unsolicited advice gets unsolicited reactions." I agreed to breakfast tomorrow, but IDK how two people with some key incompatibilities in communication can not end up back at the same place. We have the same core values. But outwardly we are shockingly different. Y'all think I'm brash...I never knew what brash truly was til I met him.
He likes, or has liked, slutty women, extreme outdoor pursuits, hunting, shooting, drinking more Scotch than he probably should, semi-public sex, and the country. I like smart men with a blue collar sensibility, nature, museums and books, and my own space. I'm like a fucking librarian to his neander-man. And it pisses him off that I tell him he should be with someone younger and looser while I'm better off with older men. I did promise to never say that again since it seems to offend. He thinks it's his job to make me happy and tell me what to do. I despise being told what to do. I always thought the relationship was about relaxing together and just being free to pursue adult activities (yep, mostly sex). I'm not sure what the point of breakfast is, but a guy who apologizes and shows up is such a rarity these days that I have to sheathe my claws and see. I just hope I'm not in it just because he's local, decent, attractive, and self-supporting. I can't deny it's part of the appeal. It's not so easy to find that guy-next-door. Still expectations wreck havoc on my personal space. Fuck. I want and I don't want all in the same breath.
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He's smart, CW. Not so much booksmart, though he is educated...but the man knows people. Not an hour after I wrote of my boredom today did he call asking me what else I'd like to do together and offering me trips. I told him I'd just like to be out on the water in the boat for a bit our next evening together. But he works horrible hours and I have responsibilities that I cannot fob off on anyone else. My usual weekend roadtripping has taken a hit as I've stayed local to see him this summer and it's taking a toll on my temperment. I'm definitely edgy. All he can think about is me taking away his kickass blowjobs and I feel pressured. Boys, NEVER ask for one. Oh, I know you Doms order them up from a sub on her knees. And actually I LIKE giving those myself as it's a turnon for switchy me. But the whole "suck me so I get really hard to fuck you" bj is a major turn off. I don't mind waking you up with one or starting with one, but in the midst of it turns me off. He wants to tie me up. Now rope is my biggest fetish, but I don't let anyone tie me up as I either don't trust them or they don't understand what I call "rope space." I go completely zen when I'm tied. Nothing exists but the moment and I lose my will. Not something I want to do with CW as I end up hurt from just fucking. I took him yesterday afternoon since he was horny, but I really didn't want to and I was so swollen from the night before. Lube or not, I can't say I really enjoyed it. And of course when I don't cum, I don't force him to cum fast so it lasted far longer than I could almost bear. Bitchy me, complaining about my boyfriend fucking me too much. Who would have imagined? I sound completely unlike myself!
I find CW a bit hard to take sometimes. He's always offering unsolicited advice. If I want his advice, I'll ask for it. He knows nothing of my experience of life with kids and divorce and having to rebuild a life and future. He's been financially secure since he was a child. He understands loss, but he doesn't understand mine. He tells me he's here for the long term. I don't fucking know if I want long term. Y'all are ready to scream at me by now and tell me to open my eyes and keep the good guy. He's making all these plans. Plans he thinks I can just fit into my schedule, conveniently forgetting I have primary care for my family, some of whom have special needs. I know where I have to be and when til January. And very few of my time commitments are flexible. He's telling me of once in a lifetime trips, a week here, a week there. I don't have a week without my children. I have always been a parent first. That's not going to change. My family has been the only reason I've survived what seems like endless loss. You can't pull a Robin Williams and leave your family that legacy even when you can't see a way through. You've got to just take the cards you're dealt and try to bluff your way through if it turns to crap and hope you get to the other side better/happier.
Part of me misses the Dom/sub/rope all-feeling and banishment of all thought dynamic. That's subspace to me. Being completely and totally in the moment. No fear. No worry. No thinking. Just being reduced to pure sensation. There moments in my relationship with CW, who really is not what I'd call kinky, that I feel that. But it's not sustainable. And a person can't be my escape for long. I had thought I'd banished fear from my life. And regret. But when I begin to feel weak those emotions insidiously begin to creep in.
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I continue to struggle with anxiety. I'm uncertain if it's an introvert's need for some time and space alone after a summer of sociability that is lovely, but exhausting. Or perhaps it's the specter of expectation when I just want to not have to do a damn thing for anyone else for a change. Nice, nice, nice....everyone continues to compliment me on my niceness and I'm beginning to see it as a fault over a positive. "Nice" is what you say when you can't say anything else. I'm beginning to wish I could torture someone so they'd say I'm a hard bitch. At least it's something strong and definite...It's cowardice, my niceness. I'm afraid of the fight and letting people down and screwing up. And I am quite quite desperately afraid of change even though I need to embrace it. I want to run or lose myself in sex or read something that transports me. I've done the latter two, but it's coming to hard work time over hiding.
Actually, I think CW has finally done me in sexually. I can't keep up. I prefer sleep some nights when he can just keep going and going. I've finally met my match and understand how pressured some ex's must have felt when my libido greatly exceeded theirs. I like CW very much, but I concede to feeling like I don't want to participate in the sex olympics everynight anymore. I'm beginning to crave something deeper. Not deep fucking, mind you, he's got that more than covered. But something that engages my mind more. With CW, sometimes I'm forced to not think as his mouth can cause me stress with it's lack of filter. His actions are stellar. But way too often, I think of shopping for a new ball gag just for him. I understand his motivations and appreciate honesty, but damn if I don't crave a little more editing now and then. I've had to resort to shocking him with my words now and then with a "Hmmm....you don't like it either, huh?" And the man is trying, but damn. I said no to him last night and dark & stormied myself into a delicious buzz alone in peace. I hurt his feelings unfortunately, but after Friday night thru Saturday afternoon I needed just a break. It's always a balancing act I suppose.
I'm going to say it. As sexual a dynamo as he is, I'm bored. Bored! Maybe it's the same stuff as good as it is. Maybe it's his expectation level which pressures me. Or maybe it's just that dinner, sex and the occasional trip to his other property, though beautiful, isn't that stimulating. His character makes my heart soar, but his mind doesn't. And I don't know if I'm being fair to keep him. I'm genuinely fond of him. But he seems so young to me sometimes and so definite in his opinions about things he doesn't have the experience to back his views up. And I listen to his stories about things he's done sometimes in disbelief. He doesn't take shit from anyone, but rather then handle it in a polite definitive manner, he can just be an asshole. Seems the usual quandary between a man with neanderthal tendencies who comes across all man or the classy professional guy like my ex who projects weakness and minimal skills. Surely there are more out there than these stereotypes. I'm finding too many interactions without depth.
But then clearly, I live in my mind too much. I don't even know if I'm making sense in my ramble but I just needed to say what is crowding my head. I leave the words here and my brain feels far less pressure. Change is ahead. I crave it, but I'll probably complain when I get it as contrary as I am these days.
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I wrote a long tortured and angst filled post last night. Thankfully, I erased the damn thing. I don't need t spread the deep anxieity I was feeling. let alone read it again. I said "fuck this," took a Xanax, and slept like a baby...not even waking once. And my brain feels like it has more space in my head intead of like it was going to explode. My boys, challenging as they are, are not making me want to cry. And I sent off a proactive email to my attorney. Fuck this shit. I'm going to stop torturing myself and use every damn resource available to me to get out of this black hole I've felt stuck in. And I'm going to try hard not to let what people think of me make me behave nicely to people who treat me poorly. Self-serving or not, if I don't do what's best for myself, I don't do what's best for my children. And that's what truly matters. Screw the assholes. I'm done being nice. And I'm done worrying. I'm beginning to understand what it means when one says "it's not personal, it's business." And this is the business of my life. There no net. There's no one to save or help me. There's just me and my family and the opportunity to settle this.
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I feel like the horniest woman alive today. It's not like I don't have regular kick ass sex. CW makes sure to satisfy me and I him. We both have this strong libido that won't quit. Thank heavens I found someone as well matched. But it's been a week since we've been private....no screaming animal sex, as hard and as deep as we can both take it. I should be more patient, but he's on edge too. I refuse him my ass as I'm not fond of anal, but today it was dildo and plug just to stop the ache. Critical mass horny is where I am. All I did was to succeed in leaving the area tender but not remotely sated. Breakfast tomorrow with CW, but no satisfaction for a bit. When I get him alone, I may simple tear his clothes off him and enjoy every one of those 7 inches.
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My anxiety has abated somewhat, thank heavens. Cash flow helps to pay the last of the most outstanding bills and the classic back-to-school sneaker shopping. I know funds aren't everything, but it sure does help. I decide to consume leftovers from a past relationship...one of the remaining few bottles of our favorite wine, macaroons frozen for a speical occasion...I'll devour the first and the children have taken care of every last cookie. I did the same with the ex's wine cellar though it took years to finish it off. Usually I avoid reminders and pack every last one away. But these consumables are just nice and easily gone. Besides, I'm left with the satisfaction of a beautiful day to think about.
CW left work very early today and called to drop by another bow string release for my eldest son, the archer. He had one of his compound bows restrung for him as well and we've tucked it away til he finishes his room cleaning. It's powerful and something for him to grow into and a very very thoughtful gift. CW is still recovering from food poisoning. It takes him a bit longer than the rest of him as he has a chronic condition that slows his healing. I was very worried about him and stopped by this morning to check on him. It brought home the fact that I care about him more than I'd admitted to myself. We spent the afternoon together en famille and it was surprisingly UN-fraught. Talks on the my messy terrace area with my son and then daughter. Archery lessons. Kisses in the barn. The occasional playing footsie. It was easy. Lovely. So much to talk of and he did better than I expected for a childless man with my children. It was just so GOOD to see him and to see his need to see me just as much.
He called later to ask if I would go away with him next week. I don't feel as pressured, but sorry I'm going to say no even though I didnt' say so right away. I've already pissed off the ex and asked him for other concessions. He surprisingly agreed. IDK maybe I should just keep going. Noooo...it would cost me next weekend and I need it alone and here. He's going to hear no a lot with commitments ahead. But I think perhaps it's good for him and perhaps me too if I don't overthink it.
Today was just LOVELY. And oh, I needed lovely.
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My anxiety levels are rising. I'm not certain if it's suggesibility since CW is always concerned about how much he claims I "worry." Or perhaps I'm just tired of summer without much of a break in childcare. Managing the arguments. Figuring out which stones I've left unturned to help my boys. The incessant cooking and cleaning and repeating myself until I want to scream. And mine are good kind children. They help each other; they help me without being asked much of the time. But being the only adult and the one in charge all the time is weight on my shoulders and over time it just hurts. I'm not free to go off and do what I'd do if I hadn't chose to become a parent. I would be so gone. And I would never have to see or deal with my ex again. I'd probably become a self-absorbed bitch with a perfect house, perfect clothes, perfect job, and perfectly boring. Instead I patch together bits of time, meet responsiblilites if it means I have to stay up til midnight, and remain grateful I wasn't left alone in this world after Gran passed. I'm getting very very edgy. Those times when you're used up....can't seem to release the tension. My neck feels fused solid. And I've had a headache every afternoon these past four days. I'm beginning to think CW is right since insomnia is plaguing me; perhaps tonight it is time for a tablet. If I only had a cave and could hibernate for days!
I'm remembering past slights, questioning what I do and how I seem and spinning myself into circles. I did schedule a massage and will take time out for hopefully some healing, but I think it's going to take more than that. The best thing I can always do is to stay OUT of other people's minds and motives and stick to my own. I am driven to KNOW and when I do figure out rhyme and reason, it doesn't really make me feel remotely better. In fact, usually realizing the extent of some situations just squeezes my soul so much I just hurt. And hell if I don't just hurt a lot. I'm so fucking tired of this feeling like a wounded bird coming back. Yes, I got treated like shit by a man or two I loved deeply. I'm still a pollyanna in my heart, expecting the world to be fair and just. Now if I can just learn to leave things that don't serve me well alone.
CW is ill. Food poisoning last night. I wondered today when he didn't communicate as usual what was up. First thought was to go overboard with chicken soup, gin gins, tea, soothing his head and so on. I restrained myself. Good words. A standing offer of help. Affection. And then left him be. He has the same motivation. When I'm in the middle of something he lends his views or does what he can to help even when I don't want him in the middle of it. He has resources I don't. And knowledge about the situation with my from his sources that I don't. But it doesn't help to know when the news is as bad or worse than I thought and is nothing I can control. But I let things bug me and haunt me. The hazards of a mind that just won't shut off. Perseverating, it's called. My son does the same. I should be enjoying these last three weeks of summer instead of stressing.
I suspect my flight/fight insticts are just too reactive right now, but if I numb it down I know I'll stop getting anything done. I need a reward, a carrot, to hold out to myself if I do what I must and let go what I must. But I find myself singularly lacking in want. And surely I should want something? Ah, yes, that cave! I dread conflict. I dread letting someone down. And I hate the fact that I lie to my ex because I must to protect us. I pay a price. Those of us with consciences do. Some seriously twisted BDSM play would not go amiss right now. There is nothing like good sex to quiet my mind. Hard sex. And my long lost pleasure....rope. But I don't trust anyone to tie me, including CW. I remember the zen of rope and that unbelievably freeing space it would put in. I just had to accept as the control was no longer mine. And take what was dished out. I almost panic at the thought of letting someone have that much of me right now. Oh fuck, I just want to run away.
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Grrrrrrr....I am frustrated with CW. Lovely evening at my favorite sushi place, far more frou frou than his usual haunts, but he took to it well especially when he tasted how amazing it all was. He has this attitude. He tries to embrace what I do, but in a way that silently screams "See what I do for you? Aren't I the best, nicest, kindest bf you've ever had?" And frankly, he might be just that. But the fact that he seems to keep score is maddening and not fun. Perhaps it grates as much as it does because I've done the same and taken fun relationships and made them balance sheets. NOT a recipe for success.
Who doesn't think if they're putting their all in and treating a partner like gold that their partner should reciprocate in kind? It makes sense. But here's the twist...what one person thinks is treating their partner well might not resemble what the partner had in mind. Yes, he's kind. Yes, he's damn good in bed. Even embraces a kink or two that are way beyond his ken. He brings out moves that I've never felt before. It's hot and exciting and make me orgasm like crazy. And there's the kissing and afterplay that no one does and seals the deal.
I begged for a man whose actions speak louder than bullshit words. And I got him. But guess what? Words to matter to a woman of words like myself. And OMG the things that come out of this man's mouth! I've been called brash. He's beyond brash and offends me sometimes with what he claims is meant in humor. He claims I'm as sensitive as an eggshell and I take things too seriously, but OMG I sometimes look forward to my lack of free time as a break from some of the nonsense he spouts. Uber conservative I can take. Playing devil's advocate to the point of pessimism on the potential outcomes of my struggles and my children is beyond tolerance. I will deal with a storm of sh#$ if it comes my way, but I'm sure not going to worry about it or let anyone predict such bullshit. I have a sense of humor and I can dish it back in kind, but he goes overboard and I weary of it. And fuck! If I get asked for another bj again, I'm going to say no. I love cocks and find them exquisite. But like any woman I don't want to be told or asked for one. That approach makes a gift into a chore. He thinks he's entitled given all he gives sexually to me. I ask him nothing. Not to indulge my fetishes. Not for this position or that. Well..."harder" or "deeper" I might demand. But little else. I'm told the solution is to give shitty bj's when asked; kickass ones when I'm given the space to want to do so. Or the other solution is to ask him for the same. "Sure, I'd love to. Just go down on me first." Apparently a guy who wants 3 to 4 bj's a night balks at the same frequency of cunnilingus. IDK the solution. But I do know a guy who makes a bj a chore for me is fucking up.
Hopefully this is just one of those adjustments all relationships have. And hopefully we can negotiate it successfully. Both have to give. But then compromise has rarely been my strong point either. I'm like a gator. I get something in my jaws and don't let it go. And I know I have to work on that. Friends have asked him if we get along, given that I'm so "nice" and "proper" whereas he is not. Honest, yes. But a tough businessman and not a man you want to cross. And definitely rough edges. And he's always answered that we do. But IDK, it's getting to me. You can't have a relationship by fucking alone. And I'm getting a bit bored with the rest of it. Dinner one weeknight and one non-custodial weekend. Sex. Affection. Sleep. More of the same. It's great stuff but I'm not feeling mentally stimulated or that we do anything truly fun. I've toned down my weekend daytrips to spend an eve or two with him. And I'm going cabin fevery. I need to get the fuck out of town, offline, turn off my phone, and just BE. And I need to do it before school begins for my family and more obligations someone else imposes on me. I hate having to plan my life around my children's educational institutions. But if you want them to be academically successful, it's a must. I don't know if I'm doing the right thing, buying into this culture, especially since success in life has little relationship to success in school. We think it does, but every study done proves it a lie. Oh it helps with college, but even higher education doesn't necessarily mean success/happiness in life and this from a woman like me who is largely an academic. But the data out there supports just that.
I am stressed. I'm not sure if it's because CW keeps telling me I am or if I started out that way. I feel pressured. Everyone wants a piece of me. My ex is lying his ass off to me. I'm not sure the course I've mapped for my sons special education needs is the right choice and I'm frustrated as hell at the lack of research available. I've gone by gut for a long time and I've been right, but the stakes get higher it seems as they get older. I've always pushed least restrictive. And the schools are pushing more. I don't think that much help is preparation for independent life. And that's my goal. Self-supporting good people who make the world a little bit better in their own ways and find their own happiness. I don't care if they're a plumber or a neuroscientist. I don't even care that much about higher education if they find their niche and can support themselves. But I care very much about getting it wrong. I don't want to make the wrong choices for them. And there's no map or guide. There's just me. So yeah, that I stress over and research and hope I get it right. My children are my heart and soul, but sometimes I'm so overwhelmed I need to lose myself. And fucking usually serves beautifully. But if fucking CW is going to lead to increasing my stress, I'm not sure I want this. If only the damn man did FWB. I would adore being friends with benefits. I love that dynamic if you can talk and fuck and leave other demands behind. I need to get my ass out of here and do something completely different.
I've essentially determined, after a long talk with Darling Dom, to keep CW. So much good. Too much to chuck. And the pressure should shift on me once September hits. It's a better time to decide whether to stay or go. But I need to take my time back and do what I need as well.
Pen
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I really do need to stay off social media sights and out of the past. It only leaves me feeling ill. Though I've been fighting a headache all day and I don't know why. None of the usual remedies have worked. CW tells me it's stress since he got a closer peak at the depth of fucked-upedness that I have to balance, sort, and resolve. Hell, I have to escape from it too now and then. But damn if I don't feel ILL. My children were lovely and kind about just sandwiches for dinner when I'd planned a fish extravaganza. I had to lie down and still it won't go away. Puzzling for me. Likely I need the chiropractor, my hip has been off for a bit since CW's advent into my life and the very vigorous sex we have. He's a bit of a brute for such a gentleman and romantic the rest of the time, but then I'm not exactly a shrinking violet in bed.... I'm not even hungry, just oddly fraught. CW is trying to persuade me to succumb to taking a tablet to help me sleep, but I am so thoroughly anti-meds lately. I just figure more strength of mind will get me there and I just need to toughen up. But he may be right if this is truly stress related. I just get so damned scared sometimes. I can compartmentalize it and tuck it away, but it's still there at my core. Betrayal still haunts me. I'm a simpler soul with a ridiculously complicated mind. I don't fake it. I'm not afraid to tell the truth or say no, even when it's hard. And I just want to be nice and have people treat me the same way. I still can'f comprehend why some people are such prevaricators and users. Life doesn't have to be that hard. But I couldn't live with myself if I took such a course; others can without another thought. I just hope those types remain a minimum exposure in my life from here on.
Thank heavens for my children and their affection and care tonight. I complain about losing my rock with my Gran's passing, but I must remember I have them. And really they and their love and needs anchor me more than I've ever been before. I just worry at this financial mess and how I handle my relationships. I don't want to ever disappoint them. Hopefully I will make better choices ahead for all of us.
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I generally make other plans Saturday evenings, without CW, as Sunday is his longest and earliest work day. He couldn't hold out last night and pleaded beautifully for me to come over and tuck him in. I took over and told him straight to bed like a recalcriant child. And NO SEX. I'm still recovering and his back has been paining him. Likely due to his massage Friday. Warning: if you are going to get a massage, esp deep tissue, you MUST drink endless amounts of water post to flush all those released toxins out of your body. He, like many men, hates water and drinks that low cal flavored stuff and gatorade in quantity. His days are very physical so electrolyte balance is crucial, but nothing replaces pure water. Poor man. I did get him to release (his back, not an o) and tucked in close. I watched him smile as he drifted off. Sweetness has it's own pleasures. And being a friend to each other.
It meant an early morning for us both, but I'm fond of the day before the heat takes hold. A giant mug of tea and light breakfast outside. Watching the chipmunks scurry and the baby cottontails pop out from my old garage/barn where they've made a nest. The first of the sunflowers just bloomed and it's glorious. It reminds me again of my grandmother and the endless yellow flowers I'd send her, her favorite. Last year when she passed, it was the same time and our first sunflower bloomed. I'd cut it and taped a vase to car interior and drove the 7 hours and babied it for days to place on her casket when she was buried. My Grandmother was intensely supersittious, believing in portents and signs. A bird in the house = somone is going to die. A flower blooming out of season = someone is going to die. Luna moths = good fortune. A cardinal = good fortune. The usual ladder, broken mirrors, and such. Eating pork on new year's was a must to bring good luck in the new year. I would thumb my nose at such and walk under ladders with intent but I appreciate her idiosyncrecies.
CW informed me I am accompanying him to a destination wedding to one of my favorite islands. I told him I cant' get away and got a "you're going period." LOL! Why do I enjoy his high handedness? Whether I go or not is a moot point since it IS up to me, but it makes me happy he wants me with him so much. My life is necessarily limitted and sometimes I chafe at it. I'm the primary caregiver and other than an overnight here or there, I don't get to take vacations unless it's with my children. Do I want to say yes to his invitations? Most often, yes. I would LOVE to go back to Bermuda where I could linger at the Swizzle Inn, spend a day at the botanical gardens, have a proper English tea every day, and just gaze at that incredible turquoise water, so clear you can sit on a rock and watch the parrot fish swim by. And to do it with CW, someone who appreciates and is happy makng me happy...well, damn. Well, perhaps the invitation along will have to be enough. I am a parent first. There's always the small chance of a miracle ex who wantts to make a deal but I can't imagine him agreeing to taking the children. Now for me to stop wanting is the next thing I need to work on...
CW and I hurt each other when we have sex. I know, y'al are licking your chops that I finally got to the sex part. Bruises, aches, swollen privates....all standard. Either we're too old for this or we're both a bit sadistci. Though with him, he doesn't really want to push pain boundaries. He's just strong and I push him to give all he's got. Lucky me...he does just that. I, however, like a bite here and there to hear him suck in his breath, pause, a go very still, hissing a "Heyyyyy...." and wondering when I'm going to release him. He will usually respond with a little manhandling and fucking me deep and hard. I don't think there's any better sensation than being fucked deep and hard. It makes me feel alive and happy and utterly free.
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After wallowing in sensual pursuits and carnality last night, I'm at peace today. And my body is blissfully loose except for one very warm place that remains swollen to excess. I love this feeling. I was wavering whether or not to see CW last night and worrying about my own ambiguous feelings. Every Friday I don't have the children I want to hoard the time for myself, to not have to do a damn thing for anyone else for a bit. To not have to respond. Or make choices. Or even be particularly nice. And the last thing I sometimes want to to be with too many people. The influx of tourists this time of year to my little town on the coast exhausts me. Traffic, parking, lines, the restaurants filled with people who don't behave well, and the drunks galore. I'd planned to just leave town for a countryside barn of old books or a four-star hotel tea and a book museum. But CW holds on to me for a bit. I don't mind being pampered and showered wth affection, but I sometimes miss my time to myself without expecatations. He's a demanding man. Sexaully, Emotionally, Mentally. He gives as much as he gets, and I admire that. But I think I need to recover from him. Like male sexual response, I need a refractory period before I can give anymore. And I miss the beauty and bit of femininity to my home. Here it's antiques and beautiful linens and natural history and books and cats. There it's maculine to excess. Guns and ammo, gym equipment and cars, dogs and cases of gatorade. I do love his inversion table though, so much so that I might have invest in one myself. I was carefrul not to bruise him last night though he begged me to. I'm not really a sadist, though I do like to bite hard enough to elicit a scream. Interesting conversaton though. He knows everyone including some intimates/businessmen who have worked with my ex. I've heard female clients opinions of him....talented but extremely difficult to work with. The males say the same, but that he's clearly buzzing. Cocaine seems the consensus. And I'm so unknowledgable about drug use that I wouldn't recognized a thing. It's begiinnig to make sense how I could marry the best and most honorable man I'd ever met and end up divorcing a man who is unrecognizable. It would explain a great deal about where the money went as well. I may never know the truth and am truly glad to be without him, but it's a shame to see a life of such immense promise wasted. And then he is the father of my children. If nothing else good came of it, at best we made these beautiiful chidlren together. I just hope they have more strength of will than their parents did. They certainly have more moral character than either he or I had at the same age.
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AARGH! Too much of a roller coaster ride here with the ex's machinations and CW's well-meant interference. I like and perhaps even needed my relationship with CW to exist very separate from my battles with the ex. I don't want to discuss my difficulties with CW when it comes to the final battle. It''s so freaking complicated that I'm still not sure how it's going to work out. It's not going to be good, I know that. And there will be losses and change, big ones. And it's scary. I try to DO over dwell, but hell...CW got involved in something he really shouldn't have and got a bigger glimpse of how fucked up my ex did some things. He's trying to help, but really he should stay out of my debt to income ratio and credit conundrums. The pleasure is that this is apart. CW is my escape in many ways and I need him to be that. But everytime I get involved in sorting more of the financial messes my ex dragged me into without my consent, I am back a decade ago to that horrible sense of utter betrayal. And y'all know how much I'm fucking trying to have faith, trust, heal....
When I first found out about my then husband's adultery and gross financial mismanagement, my life imploded. I had children under 4, and had built a life that was a house of cards. Every document, every meeting...I feel that same sense of hopelessness and pain I can't even describe. Sometimes I avoid what I need to do. Other times I dig in with an angry vengance. Some nights I just cry and then berate myself for this still getting to me. I try most to just repeat the mantra "I got this" and do it, but it never seems to get done. Never seems complete or finished like so much of life. But if anything truly needs to be DONE, it's this bullshit with my ex. It's a decade of living in purgatory, in a painful holding pattern, and trying to put my best face on it. I'm sick of making nice. I'm sick of going over the same documents. I'm sick of accounting for my last dime while he jets off to yet another trip with his gf. And I'm sick of being the only parent who puts in the time and effort. And right now I'm heartily sick of CW butting in without being asked.
I take all sorts of passive aggressive moves from my ex because of my relationship, and I'm willing to pay that price as ridiculous as it is. But that's because this relationship is supposed to be mine and apart and free. And completely different from what came before. I hate now that CW has inserted himself somewhere he has no need to be. And I can't sleep. He asked me to take a tablet or have some Scotch to sleep, but I'm a stubborn ass. It's been a year since I've resorted to meds and I hate pharmaceuticals. There was a time of panic attacks and sleepless nights over an extended period when it was a necessary evil, but "I got this." Somehow I got this. But fuck it hurts. But I learned that softening grief and pain usually just makes it last longer. So I'm going feel all this shit, cry my eyes out in my bed when nobody's watching, and pray for sleep.
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I was craving MEAT today after a night of carnality. Usually a winter meal, I simmered a pot of my favorite pasta sauce copied from my favorite country inn. Deep tones of onion and garlic, ground sirloin, proscuitto, four cheese sauce and plenty of herbs from the pot on the porch...the scent kept me at a low hum of hunger all afternoon. My youngest couldn't stop spooning it like soup and the eldest grabbed a spoon and did the same. I threw manners to the wind and did the same myself. Winding down the night now with decaf green tea and some reflection on my favorite forum.
CW last night. We dine waterside a great deal given our mutual love of the outdoors and the freshest fish we can find. I surprised him beforehand with a bottle of single malt they stopped producing years ago, his favorite. I love learning new things and he's a true connosieur, showing me how just a chip or two of ice releases the flavor of this beautiful, beautiful Scotch. We indulge in sensual pleasures on several levels and it's so damn perfectly EASY. Clearly I try to please those I love, but there's also a comfort level here that makes me at ease being fully myself. There are times, with his frequent lack of verbal filter about others he has fucked, that I take a far more alpha role and close his mouth quite definitively with a kiss and a firm "That's enough." It works superbly.
Last night was perhaps the most primal sex I've ever experienced. He doesn't sleep post orgasm like most men in my experience. Nor does his mind shut down. Nor, blessedly, does his cock as the extra testosterone keeps him hard for bit after his release. I'm smiling just thinking about it. I'm not huge on foreplay as I generally just want to get to the good part and fuck. We have afterplay and this is a whole new world. Kissing, stroking, tugging, nibbling, talking, sucking...just feasting on each other. Thank goodness he's a multiorgasmic man. I think that's nearly a requirement for my partner and, though not impossible to find, it's a pretty awkward question to ask a potential partner and a hell of a request to make. But I am. So it works so much better if he is too. The first fuck IS foreplay to me.
CW keeps techniques in reserve that he springs on me at the most unexpected times. I think he feels as safe with me as I largely do with him and that's a necessary place to start from if you're testing boundaries. It was a simple thing and I was already sated. A touch and lip/tongue pressure on my neck. Sometimes stimulating nerves, sometimes a bit of pressure on one of cartoid arteries. Nothing heavy, nothing hard...but sustained and impossible to escape from. The sensory stimulation was overloading what I could process. I was trembling with reaction and pure need. At one point it was so much I begged him to stop and tried to get away. He held me fast and very firm. But what he was actually doing wasn't painful or hard; I'm in awe at my response. I became a creature of pure need beyond anything I've experienced before. When he did release me, I sighed and bent into the yoga child position, face down, knees bent under me, arms stretched above my head and shook with tremors of need. He worried for a minute until I took a deep inhalation and climbed over him to hold his face between my hands and kiss him hard and deep. I took him. I held him down, his eyes were wide, and I made him submit to a hard, deep bj that had him begging and gasping. Mounted him and rode him so hard that he spent this evening icing the bruises on his thighs. He's been hobbling around today, much to the amusement of his employees who greeted me with wide grins when I stopped to check on him today. He can't stop smiling and sending me OMG messages. IDK what I did, but he claims it's some kind of professional porn move called churning that he claims someone must have taught me. I can't even explain it as I have no idea what I did that was so different, but it sent him through the roof. I don't even know if I can duplicate it. I was just in the zone to possess him completely. It finished hard doggy from behind but I was just a ball of need and pushed harder and harder. All I could think all day was thank heavens my marriage did not work out or I wouldn't have ever had the 6 years of orgasms I missed during what I thought was my sexual peak. I'm telling y'all...women in their 40s (and I'm hoping 50s when I get there) are amazing in what they can feel and give. We learn what rules to break, what boundaries to push, and lose our self consciousness enough to scream in ecstacy if we are that lucky to get it. And our hearts and minds are beautiful things indeed. And hell, my younger boyfriend is at home icing his cock and begging me to come over tomorrow evening (the same guy who came hobbling to check on me when my car battery died this morning)...a curious state of affairs for this old lady...Oh, I'm happy.
Pen
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It just passed midnight and I made it through the day. A year ago my Grandmother died. And oh, I MISS her. There is so much I'd like to tell her. Cards and photos and drawings and flowers I'd like to send her. I made it through the year but oh how I wish I could hug her, even though at 96 she felt like a little bird and I was so careful with her. I made her happy and my children even more so. I've exhausted myself, talked to the man who loves me, and hugged my children close but here I am at midnight crying in front of the desktop.
I know I will be fine. Good things end. I've come to accept that. The blessing is that bad things end too. I've been haunted for a long time by betrayal. And I kept loving those who betrayed me long after I wished I could feel nothing. Places would bring back memories and pangs. Gifts, especially jewelry, the same. I've learned to buy my own jewelry now. I love the stuff, but my most exquisite pieces don't feel good to wear anymore. I'm a romantic. I wear gifts to show part of me belongs to the giver. It could be the sterling tags with my children's names or a gift from a man I admire and want to possess a small part of me. But when a relationship fails, the piece ends up feeling like a manacle and not in the enjoyable way such things can. One day I'll sell what's left, even at the fraction of value that's paid, and do something good with the proceeds. I revisited places today that formerly were invested with romance. Nothing. Nada. One more ghost of a bad relationship just poof! el disappearo. I don't know when it happened. When I stopped feeling bad or good. I just stopped feeling anything about it. Not craving. Not sadness. Not stupidity nor remorse. I wonder if this is what healing is? I've been wounded so long I've forgotten.
I have a pot of sweet corn cobs boiling away on the stove. Another of the odd little retro home ec things I do along with ironing pillowcases with rose water and baking pies for those I adore. I shucked and dekerneled dozens and dozens of ears of sweet corn. I freeze it for my autumn corn chowder and Thanksgiving succotash. Then simmer all the cobs and reduce to a sweet corn broth that makes the chowder even more unforgettable. It is probably the best and hardest to replicate specialty I make. A base of chicken stock/mirepoix/corn broth from scratch, Amish smoked ham hocks, more mirepoix (finely diced onion, carrots and celery), corn, red bell pepper, potatoes from the farm down the road, and real Jersey sweet corn. Add herbs from the pot on the back porch, heavy on the thyme and I'm already hungry thinking about it. Lots of steps, always a pot simmering on the stove, then frozen til the first cold snap and then out it comes with a loaf of fresh baked bread. The corn broth wakes my youngest son who has the best nose in the family. He came downstairs last night sleepily rubbing his eyes to ask what he smelled...his eyes got big and he smiled with the dimple in his right cheek and said "Oh MOM, corn soup is my FAVORITE...." Good times indeed. And my Gran was the one I called years ago when I tried to make her chicken soup in college when I was so ill and just dumped a whole chicken in a pot of water and couldn't understand why it tasted nothing like hers. Her legacy is now mine.
I miss this man of mine. He has a beautiful face. And it's odd to say since we look alike with the same shape eyes and nose. I hope I'm not being a fool, but I feel I understand this man deeply. It could just be that we are such physical creatures. He does what I do though. He thinks. Sometimes too much. He gives. Sometimes too much. And he fucks. That I can never get too much of. Though for the first time I need a day or two to recover. I'm smiling as I think how happy I am about that. But even better than the sex is the affection. We kiss and kiss and kiss. He LOOKS at me. Strokes my hair back off my face. I am always tactile, but in the past I had to think about it as it's too much for some. With CW I can just be. There is such freedom in that. This is a good thing I'm thinking. When there's a problem, a concern, we don't always talk it out incessantly though I do feel free to say anything. Usually there's a recognition on one or both parts and a shift. We just naturally problem solve. Still plenty of emotion and we can argue like two immovable objects, but...well....this is just NICE. It's that word most of sigh when someone describes us as such, but NICE is a good thing. I looked it up. The most overused word in the English language likely.
NICE:
pleasant; agreeable; satisfactory.
"we had a nice time"
I'm thinking NICE is a GREAT thing to be in a world where most people aren't. So go out there y'all and try being nice.
Pen
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There's something reassuring about CW's presence in my life. He has taken to spending a portion of every day with me. A morning boating, a 20 minute shared cuppa tea/coffee, breakfast a few days a week, dinner and drinks my free night, and glorious sex when we can but not always. Often I can't spare much time, but he knows we are similar in that we both need that physical presence. He asked me to come with him on a trip to the other property this weekend but I said no. It's good to miss each other now and then. Such a thorough and kind man.
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I'm having a bit of trouble keeping at an even keel. Dating is sometimes fraught since there's always something to decide whether to grin and bear or open my mouth. The flu-like menopausal symptoms of PMS are back and have me exhausted. And I get the email today that my Gran's house closed today. The home I grew up in and that she and my grandfather built is gone. And come Saturday, it will be a year since she died. IDK, I think the combo has me weeping and makes everything else affecting me more than it needs to. I've seriously considered whether to nix this relationship so I can be left alone. So strange the ways emotion can lead. The key is not to give in and wait for this to pass, I know. But damn if I don't just want to rail and cry and break stuff to make it feel better. Hell, I just need action over inaction. I'm a grown up so I can kick drama to the curb, but I need something that supports me.
CW and I spoke a few times today and when I can stop him from talking over me, he's lovely. I just find him too abrupt and insensitive sometimes. And having another person who wants something from me makes me edgy. We are fine when physically together. It's the inbetween we haven't managed yet. I don't always want to stop by his business though he asks me. He, of course, enjoys the audience of his employees wondering and watching us interact. I prefer privacy.
He claims he makes time for me. And it's true. And he wants me to do the same for him. But my responsibilities are for children first. I'd carved out more a few weeks ago but felt uncomfortable. My time is my children's first. After them, I'll gladly give him my leisure time. But I don't do babysitters unless I must for work. I don't have overnight guests. I don't want to invite him to dinner yet; it's just too early. We aren't there yet. So I have to reign him in. Hell, I think that's part of why he is so interested; he can't actually reel me in the way he has others. There's a big part of me unavailable. And I'm not sure he's going to be able to handle it. Well, I suppose I should be grateful of the testing ground summer vacation is to watch him either sink or swim.
We are physically perfect together. The sex is the best matched I've ever experienced. Combined with the physical affection, I'm blissfully happy when I am with him. I just can't quite figure out how to deal with the relationship when I am not with him. His is a physical presence. He doesn't translate near as well to text or voice. Ah well.
Damn, I truly truly miss my Gran. Desperately some days. I wish I could visit her gravesite again and without the 7 hour drive and just sit under the oak tree and be there. It's killing me that the house is gone. I know, look at what I have. Not what I've lost. But when I get tired, the sense of loss is overwhelming.
Pen
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What a good day...slept in after a night staying up alone watching chick flicks/revenge on cheaters/karma with plenty of laughs. I had leftover curry for lunch from dinner with my dear friend Darling Dom then off for a long long massage. Ooops, somewhere in there CW came over this morning in between jobs. Somewhere between destroying my bed again and fucking in the shower every last bit of stress melted away. I think my friendship with Darling Dom makes him a wee bit nervous. But my friend was kind enough to help him with a techie issue on the phone so I think he's beginning to understand the kind of person DD is. He's one of those guys, much like CW I think, who make the world a better place just by being in it. There aren't too many of them anymore and it's what I aspire to be.
I had the afternoon to catch up on tasks, prep meals for the week, and even bake a gorgeous peach/nectarine/blueberry crisp for dessert that was heaven on a plate. I try to do a simple but well cooked dinner to welcome my children home after a weekend with their father and tonight's was fresh and healthy and delish. I love doing things for those I love. Some may call that submissive. But Dominants do the same. I just don't so much enjoy the mind games that come with true BDSM. I adore a man to dominate me in bed...hold me down, fuck me hard, pull my hair, bite my breast just enough to make me gasp, make me take his fist perhaps, or to sink to my knees to give him a throat deep bj that his HIS knees shaking...it's all good. But start playing with my head, causing drama, give me a reason to distrust....nope, that bullshit is NOT for me.
CW paid me a compliment (I think) in our usual evening conversation tonight. He said that my "properness" and/or manners are more than he's ever seen before. We were talking about a former date of his who showed up at his business wearing a micromini showing her panties. CW's father came up to him and said loudly "Well, at least it's not going to take you much time to undress this one. She's practically naked already." I responded, "Good for him. It's completely inappropriate showing up at your place of business that way." Hence the segway into my alleged "properness." I'm certainly not intimidating. Nor would I correct grammar or manners or demand use of the proper fork. But I do believe that we enter a social contract when we choose to become part of a community and engage with others. Apparently CW likes my manner (esp since I can talk dirty in private times, though I still use plenty of "please" and "thank you"s. I suppose it's a compliment. It's not going to change since it makes me employable and not too much of a pain in the bottom to be around. He's not used to it. Nor is is used to his irreverant father treating the women he dates with such respect. Hell, I'm looking forward to scotch and cigar night and let him rip whatever comment he wants. I think it's going to be a hoot.
My home is full again with the children reading in their beds and all feels right in the world. I'm very grateful for today.
Pen
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Trouble in Paradise. The sex site CW and I met on has proven to be troublesome for our relationship. Social media of any sort can be problematic. You post things and it's out there. And there's nothing so cruel as unfriending someone who you've been important to. Let alone the problem of offending those who want to be new friends. I used to love them, but find the collection of friends a bit like high school. The internet is an impersonal place and words written can have unforeseen impact over those spoken face-to-face when nuances can be read and questions asked. I love texting and email. The ability to reach out when there's an odd moment here and there in a busy life can be a great way to keep in touch. But it takes effort to connect in person and really nothing can compare to real.
The minutae of the argument doesn't really matter. But really, if you love and/or respect any partner, treat them the way you want to be treated. I've long been a proponent of the golden rule. And I try to treat others as I'd want to. If I make a mistake, I'll take the hit and try to correct it. But I try to be proactive with those I have relationships with and treat them right. And y'all know how I feel about karma. What you put it out there you get back in spades. So do right. It'll bite you in the ass if you don't.
I'm up late. Doing what I do, baking away. This one is for love. The sour cherry picking last month is now paying dividends in pie and strudel. It's a once every few years taste as the labor involved is more than anyone does these days. But OMG, you've never tasted anything like a fresh cherry pie, perfectly tart, sweet and gorgeous to look at. I've been giving alot. And this is my last hurrah before a weekend devoted to selfish things. Massage, satiation, salon appointments, and peace inbetween CW fucking me silly. The man is going to have to work for it tomorrow as I've forgiven him, but that gorgeous deep throat all out bj I do is off the table as his slap on the wrist until he makes nice. He's tried. I'll admit that. Heartfelt apologies. Trying hard to get me to let him talk to me in person. Canceling his subion to the problematic sex site. I didn't ask for any of the above. I'm tired of the discussion. My solution would be to take it off the table, agree to disagree and keep my profile up to torture him. But then y'all know I like a jealous man.
Sigh. Relationships are always a pain in the ass. The test is if the scale balances more heavily on the positive than the negative. If the sex weren't just about as perfect as it gets...He will always be able to fuck me into smiling at him. But SHHHHHH...he doesn't need to know that...
Pen
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Well, it seems I really may have met my match sexually in CW. And all with the cute guy down the street who I've seen around for the last twenty years. But neither of us was looking for what the other offered til now. My friends say my eyes sparkle when I talk of him. That's new.
I feel like my female parts are somewhere around my lungs today after last night's fucking. Oh, the man pushes me and I'm a woman who needs to be pushed a little. Sometimes a lot. My breasts still ache from his mouth and continue to crave the same. The muscles that transverse my sides and back ache from contracting so much. My knees and calves are the same from riding him so hard. And my puss...yum, I can still feel his cock and hand inside of me. He's not really a kinky guy other than that exhibitionist streak, but he's a bit of a show off now and then in life. But wow, he indulges a few of my kinks, but it's almost not even necessary. There's such a glut of good, hard fucking that I'm left satisfied. And thank heaven since I'm going to need a day or two for everything to settle back into place and puffiness to reduce. I love fucking when I swell and I invariably do after the first o or two. He knows it and makes me cum first so that he groans when he finally slips into me. It's a beautiful thing. And he's completely unmanned by my bj's. That's flattering. He laid there this morning with his mouth open. He came 5 times in 12 hours. I've never seen the like and oh, I'm so grateful.
I had to kick the poor man out of my bed far too early today as I had appointments and I met a woman I know professionally for a long lunch. One of my side jobs, pro bono at times, is consulting on IEPs for children with disabilities. I am intimately familiar with the language, therapists, hoops and red tape, and language you need to get things done. Both my sons have cognitive issues and I've learned through endless unreimbursed medical and legal expenses. My compatriot has fought the fight too with unresponsive administrators before finally getting the transition from 504 to IEP. The difference between the two? You can legally enforce an IEP and lack of adherence to it gives you a base of power from which to get things done. No public school is going to tell you your options. There isn't a book. There isn't a class. There isn't an information session. And no one will guide you. You have to be downright Sherlockian to navigate the system. It serves to delay No kinksters, not that kind!) The worst is watching someone you love in the midst of it. My children are getting to the point where I have to hope the lessons learned and the character hopefully built serve them well. I just always figured the pain of lessons learned is somehow worth it if you can help someone else in the same place.
A great day. Biked this afternoon with my coffee house haunting big boy and just measured him as he seems to be towering even higher over me. Just over 5'10"...and a kind spirited giant boy. I used to hold on to the belief that good times are ahead if I just hang on, but I think they snuck up on me....good times are already here.
Pen
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I spent the morning with CW on a small fast boat. It was glorious. It's probably been a decade since I've visited some of the spots we explored and all is changed post-Sandy. Stories...oh, he has the best stories about growing up here. He was an adventurer at a very young age and, with a widowed father in Coast Guard, he developed boating skills early as well as independence. We work well together. He takes my capability as a matter of fact, when I'm really not. But I winged it and the sparse docking skills I have came back. He shares. He admits he's a bit spoiled, but he is at the same time utterly unselfish with his free time. I was feeling nearly a need to be physically close to him and it just wasn't possible to fuck today. He showed be all the best fishing holes and I spent the afternoon shore side at them with my eldest son.
I've opened the world I know to him a bit. It's unlikely he will ever share my love of museums and books. But I'm just as unlikely share his penchant for hunting. There a core we share. Values. Similar priorities. Honesty. Family. Financial security. Great sex. Living with honor. I've dated other business owners over the years. Most understand, appreciate, and support their communities. My ex rarely did except to serve on a board or two when it increased his prestige. Others give. You trade services. You help your neighbor plow snow if he needs a hand. You help children and families in need. You are part of something greater than yourself. And the good guys...well they don't do it because they feel obligated. They don't even have to think about it; they just DO. Sometimes I'm that person. I want to be more of that. I've spent too long hiding and licking my wounds. My ex, I am discovering, is a thoroughly despised man. I had no idea that other's besides me have seen his character disinegrate. It seems I have a whole host of secret elves out there wishing and offering me support. I just had to wake up.
I have to remember to keep perspective. As much as CW offers to include my children and show them things I know they'd love to see and learn...it's too early. I want him physically and it's been a long time since I've found character as appealing as the sex. Character, physicality, and capability. My heavens he's capable. I have never know a man more so. I hope my attraction isn't blinding me to his faults (there are some doozies), but oh, this is good. Insecurity slips in now and them when I catch myself acting far too enamored for my own good and back off. But he invariably calls till he reels me close again. My hope is that he is one of more people like him in the world. I don't want anyone but him right now, but knowing that there are people like this out there shows me the world is a better place than I've thought.
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CW is worried about me. I couldn't sleep much last night as the sheer magnitude of what it is ahead (virtually changing my whole life) got to me. I know one step at a time, but it's damn intimidating. I sort, organize, and bake when I'm stressed. CW and his employees benefited greatly today and he was blown away. I've spent years as a foodie and food professional. It's nice to have an appreciative audience in addition to my children again. I revisited some old sites, including FB, thinking it was time to get out there again. But I was quickly reminded why I prefer my privacy. Either people who don't have busy enough lives post endless nonsense (ha! I'm one to talk!) or other's use it as a platform for boasting of their latest acquisitions, milestones, how great they are. It's self-promotion at it's best and as I started to grit my teeth, I realized that I don't belong there. I looked over my previous posts, all the same as everyone else, "Look at ME!!! And my beautiful family!!! And all the cool things we do and have!!!" Bullshit. As an extra hit while I'm down, someone I thought was a friend dropped me the minute I became visible. But then he should have been jettisoned long ago in everyway; I despise the immoral user. Karma will do what it does.
If nothing else comes of my relationship with CW, I have learned what I want. We are alike, he and I. We are real and authentic. And we don't filter what we say to each other as much as perhaps we should. The benefit is that one doesn't brood for long. There's nothing to hide. CW made me realize how very unhappy I had been in other relationships without recognizing it at the time. They were all so FRAUGHT. Eggshells and nightmares at night and my moral compass totally out of whack. Thank god it's over. And thank heavens even more that I met someone who really is who he says he is. And sees the value of action over mere words. Anyone can SAY shit. But who actually follows through and DOES? Not too many people anymore. CW tells me we may be the last generation of those who value and keep their word in little and big things. I hope he's not right, but try even just sending out an invitation requesting RSVP...y'all get it.
We are both comforted by the physical. I swear when I get like this, overwhelmed and hot under my collar, NOTHING is better than touch. A hug, a kiss, a pat on the shoulder, good hard fucking...He'd be here holding me all night if I let him, but we aren't there yet when my home is full. Quite frankly, I don't know how to even begin that process. He has helped my children with basketball and archery. He's an adventurer and sportsman himself. But he is careful and childless. He wants more. I just can't/won't give it for months and months. I don't know if this will ultimately work. But I have learned to trust. I believe this man is trustworthy and values loyalty as much as I. We seem to share deep core values. I'm told that's the key. But he is encumbered by a nearly 7 day a week business, while I am have my share of responsibilities that take preference over my personal wants. I am deeply fond of him and impressed by his personal ethics. I could put my head on his shoulder and let go of all of my cares as long as I can feel him next to me. But I want/need to solve my legal battle and the changes myself. The problem is, as y'all know, I'm scared to death some nights. All the research, all the numbers, tracking, remind me of the sheer shit storm this past decade has been for me. It's been characterized by betrayal in the cruelest ways; not just once but several times by those I built my life around or loved. I know it's over and I should be okay, but it fucking hurts. I don't regret the loss of a bastard or two from my life. But it pains me that they are going to keep bringing negativity to every life they touch. My ex makes every person he touches unhappy. It's the legacy of those men who promise the world and deliver crumbs. Unfortunately, I can see what it has already done to my childrens' spirits.
It's another rant tonight. It was a tough, tough night/morning today. But I took my sorry tired ass out to the country again with my favorite people and picked more berries than I can bake in pies. There is nothing like Jersey blues. It was hot. Plenty of cool insects and scary caterpillars if you looked too closely. But after the CW's property, I'm not intimidated by much outdoors. I've spent hours cleaning and bagging and labeling and freezing. I know, I'm such a throwback. But wait til my winter pancakes are filled with homegrown blueberries or our Thanksgiving corn is sweet white from the cob and everyone sighs OMG this is GOOD. I make chicken stock from scratch and all my doughs and pastries. I believe in simple and good. And really is a good fuck so different? It's basic. It's good. And it's damn simple.
Send me wishes for kickass motivation to kick someone's ass for sure in the battle ahead. I'm getting to the point where I just have to DO and keep DOING (damn, it's so fucking COMPLICATED!!!) it so I can stop thinking about it. Hugs all.
Pen
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I admire CW. He works harder than anyone I know and still manages to be thorough and actually finish jobs. If he says something, his word is inviolable. And it's quite, quite wonderful to be with someone who shares my libido without feeling unduly pressured by my appetites. He's similar and has never found anyone who could match him or take him for as long as he can go. And then he met me... And he's protective. I like that. Heaven knows I've sought it for long. He's cautious since he knows I have long had to fly without a net. I have my own systems for backup, but they change and hell if I don't sometimes get scared at what is all on me.
CW is simply the most capable man I have ever met. I've never seen anything like it. If it's broken, he fixes it or follows through to make it happen. If we argue or miscommunicate, he will be at my door if he know's my childcare schedule will permit. He reminds me of my good friend, Darling Dom, who I adore and is a technological god. Both like to date younger and submissive (or at least have in the past). Both have been burned a bit by those young 'uns. Both are kind, caring, honest, and honorable men. Both are not men you want to cross. Now CW is far more neanderman whereas Darling Dom is smoother and more of a sophisticate. But both are very male, very intelligent, and can take a woman in hand if she needs it. CW is switchy and DD not at ALL. But I am fortunate to have them both in my life, especially as I continue to strategize the steps ahead with my ex. I even had my former .......(IDK what to call him) weigh in and remind me I practically have a Masters in strategic studies since I got him through his and to not be remotely intimidated my this. I got this.
It hurts though. I hate manipulating people. I hate passive aggressive bullshit. It goes against the heart of who I am to fight this fight, but I have to. I spoke to my ex's number two (in his biz, not wife) today in a rare moment of candor. Apparently his office has had enough and he lied to his employees as well as owing wages while jetting off with the gf and such. He disappeared today with an excuse of having the children until oops! I called about the children who were clearly with me. Number two has been his friend and support over the years and even she finds him unrecognizable, questioning if he fooled all of us and was always this way or if he changed. I'm beginning to suspect drug use. She is not the first who had found who he is now very different from the man we all thought we knew. I married him 21 years ago because he was the BEST person I'd ever met. He had honor. I still wonder if I was clueless or he changed that much. I do know that he wreaks havoc, but creates dependent relationships that become very hard to get out of with him. As with most passive aggressives, the victim begins to think he/she is losing her mind as he continues to push and promise and deliver nothing and tell he/she that they are simply overreacting and perhaps they need counseling.
I was always the scapegoat for everything wrong with his life and his business and his time management issues. And I was "crazy." How many men call a woman such when she get upset at being treated poorly? Number two tells me he won't break it off with the new gf even though they are both miserable because SHE's CRAZY. Everyone has finally screamed at him it's because HE makes everyone whose life he touches crazy. It's not the right word. It's that everyone he touches from friends, to family, to employees, to clients become unhappy. And he's skilled enough that many of us take the blame for it ourselves. I heard my voice in Number Two's speech today. The only solution is to get out and away and to eliminate his influence as much as possible and know not to take it personally. But oh, we all have to deal with him a bit. And it's excruiating. ]
I'm trying to take this negative energy, which is powerful stuff, and channel it. Sometimes I need to be so fucking furious that it lights a fire under my sweet a@@ to get moving and change it. Battle I can do well. Take no prisoners, fuck him, all out war...but that's not going to be best for the future. I need to do my research, back up every figure with tangible proof, show every money trail, and blow his ass out of the water with capability and cold hard facts. But I fucking hate it. Why can't we all just be NICE? And do what's right? Sigh. Yes, tonight it's a rant. But if I let the words flow from my brain to the screen, I have a good shot at a good night's sleep.
Other concerns. I think my children are going to have a hard time with their mother having a bonafide beau. Especially my beautiful brilliant one. I have no idea how to do this. But I am not going my Gran's route and staying alone for the rest of my life. I adore men. I adore sex. Their only experience has been the ex's gf who despises them. If I were them I'd be concerned too. But I'm not going to start lying to them now. It's another problem and there's time. But I need to also be clear that I am an adult and adults need to be with adults just as much as they need to be with their friends.
Back to endless paperwork and a nice dark-n-stormy from my Bermuda days to put me to sleep. Stay positive folks and I'll try to do the same.
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Ooooh...I was NERVOUS at the intimacy of continuous time together. Fortunately he needed to mow a few fields and sow a few roads with grass for the deer. I came across a grouse in the golf cart, just wandering the lanes between fields and woods. And tree frogs all jumped into a pond when I pulled close and surfaced just enough so they could peer at me with with their little heads. The peace and relative wholesomeness appealed deeply to me. I shot some amazing firearms on the property and shocked the hell out of CW when I didn't back down from a hell of rifle with the biggest ammo I've ever seen. I've never shot on private land before without so many rules. It's something to kiss between switching off weapons. And oh, does the man collect some beautiful things. I've never even seen such finery before...some sort of African buffalo hunting double barreled rifle, all Italian craftsmanship and gorgeous. It went well I think, even with the bit of inner trepidation I have at that level of intimacy. I so want to get attached while at the same time I don't. The classic conundrum.
CW has exhibitionist tendencies which he can't indulge with me given my boundaries. But hell if the farmer next door who acts as caretaker/gamekeeper didn't get an eyeful. We were in the midst of a hard raunchy fuck when guess who walks in the door? The dangers of country living and leaving your doors wide open...He only saw my toes, thank heavens, but he got an eyeful of CW's expertise. And maybe a full frontal of me as I dashed to close the bedroom door. As horrified as I was at first, it's likely we made the man's month. His wife might have gotten more attention that afternoon than she has seen in years. With this guy, IDK, I seem to get into more situations that don't reflect well on my standard ladylike sensibilities...but I'm definitely making some serious first impressions. I'm going to blush my ass off when we all meet socially next.
I think it went well all-in-all, even if I did have to take the passive aggressive hit from my ex at the children exchange this evening. I expect I'll hear nothing for several days, funds will be inexplicably short, and I'll continue to get verbal threats that start the emotional flood of fear. I fought it tonight. He told me "I hope it was worth it for you." That implies there will be a price/punishment. The man still can fuck with my head, but it's up to me not to let him. And fuck it, I knew there'd be a price to pay. And dammit, it WAS worth it. (I just got a text. He can't fall asleep now without me beside him. Smile.)
Pen
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This is so far beyond my experience level that I barely know what to do. Normally instinct kicks in and tells me how to play a situation. Here, on the top of a mountain, on a thousand acre farm....big sky, a view for miles and rolling fields of rye and corn...I can't do anything but simply BE. I took the dog for a walk. He and the horses next door greet each other nose to nose. It's wild and not. Cultivated fields and acre upon acre of forest. Filled with wildlife so I can see the appeal to the hunters. Deer by the hundreds, big hawks and eagle, wild turkeys sticking their funny heads above the rye. I have a fondness for meadows and wildflowers and it's all here. It's almost too much of everything. Too much land, too much sky, too much sex. Y'all were just waiting for that. My time with CW has been necessarily limited with our respective responsibilities. This is very freeing but a new level of intimacy. Anytime intimacy deepens there is a pullback response almost as equal and that sinking into intimacy. The sex? The sex is very very good. I brought rope. Handcuffs. Clearly I have more experience with cuffs than he as unlocking them was a bit touch and go for a bit! LOL. Though add a multi-orgasmic man to an excessively orgasmic woman and hell, we have the potential to kill each other with sex. I like his dog. Well behaved. Beautiful creature. I haven't spent much time with a pup since my Gran stopped keeping dogs and I'd forgotten how faithful they are and that doggy scent. He's really an exquisite creature. Yesterday on the Rhino...I have to write it down because even I can't believe I was quite that outdoorsy. Through the forest, some of which had recently been lumbered and littered with tree tops and mess. It's an amazing ATV. Like a tank the way it can go over everything, through shallow ponds, take down small trees in it's path and create a path in a mixed meadow growing over my head. Ducking under branches as we ran the logging roads, seeing turkey and deer and my head filling with the mixed scents of pine, crushed yarrow and mint. My hair was little more than a net for endless wildlife of the small creepy crawly kind. SO NOT ME. But it was worth it and fortunately no deer ticks here, but if I come down with Rocky Mountain Spotted Fever, I'll know where I got it. Still makes me shiver, but damn if I didn't keep my cool although I make him debug my hair. No way I could look in a mirror and deal with it. Bandanas and hats next time. Live and learn. He'd never seen anything like it. LOL! I'm going to try to just enjoy this new intimacy, stay kind and good, fuck til I can't walk, and see the beauty in an experience like this. It means a great deal for him to bring me here to his sanctuary. Pen |
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Back from the fairytale cottage in the forest. It was rather like Hansel and Gretel with no witch, just adventures to be had. Trout fishing in quantity, crawfish and salamander hunting, alpine sliding, rock climbing, and spending a day under a waterfall.
I've tried to be the glue to keep my family close with Gran gone. I think half is lost to me, my aunt and her kin just want their inheritance and to be on their way. My nieces are forming their own families as I did a decade later in life than they. It's that time when small children and finding your own voice as a parent and your OWN family clamor for attention and time. Blessedly, my sister showed up. And really, it IS about simply showing up. Convenient or not, all you really need to do is say you'll be there and then do so. Simple but who does it anymore? Well my sis did! And I can't tell you how much it means to me. Years ago when I was 5 and she 4...we were removed from our parents care by the state for a time. We were in a children's home of sorts in cribs and we'd reach through the bars and touch hands. We swore then we'd never let each other go. We haven't always been able to keep that promise, but hopefully we're wiser now and understand the value of history and blood and sheer love without judgement. She even met my children and I at Gran's gravesite one day then told us of the waterfall we drove to spend the day.
It's been nearly a year since Gran is gone and my first time back home since the funeral. I was more than pissed that no one has seen fit to tend her grave. The children and I planted lavender and sedum and her black-eye susans. I gritted my teeth at the disrespect I see. No one can wait for her money, but damn if they don't forget her. Makes me furious. Maybe it is all for the living, but you respect those who came before. If my Gran hadn't given all she had of herself, none of us would be here. We planted grass as her gravesite is still dirt. My sister promised to come and water and I'm grateful as she and Gran were estranged for many years til shortly before her death. I think my sister will sit under the giant oak Gran planted over 50 years ago when my grandfather died. He wanted to be buried beneath an oak tree so she planted two. We're planners. Always a spare in case one fails. And one did. But it's there and we find acorns to take home with us. Hell if I don't miss her.
I haven't slept tonight. Nervous. The legal battle is getting to the point of the negotiations I've avoided though I know need to batten down and do what needs to be done. It's very very messy. Very very complicated. And hurts like hell. I listened to Fleetwood Mac's song Landslide on my trip and it resonated. I built a life around a reality that didn't hold true. And it still pisses me off even though I know now is better than it ever was and I don't want him. I think I'm more angry at myself for being just plain too stupid to see the reality until it imploded into the mess I was left with. There are better ways to end relationships. All hard, but I wish I had been more of a grown up earlier and fixed it or left. Ah well, hindsight...
Tomorrow...scratch that...today...I leave with CW to his NY property. I am jittery with nervousness. He's an easy man to be around. Could use a filter for his mouth now and then, but then I'll take clear communication over bullshit any day. But damn if I'm not shaking in my boots to spend my first real adult vacation sans my children with this man. I know it's going to be good. Yeah, I feel a little mom guilt for going away with some dude I'm going to fuck like mad for days and days. Even though I've spend most of my time as a parent, especially this last month...CW is a serious outdoorsman and I'm a little out of my element, even for a nature chick. This is his family's place and very very special to him. Maybe the level of intimacy/affection/love is what has me tense. I say I want it. It's right here. All I have to do is reach out and grab it. But I'm a little bit of a scaredy cat. And he's going to see it the minute he sees my face. There's also the potential of more passive aggressive flak coming my way from the ex. I half expect him not to show up for the children when he's due so I can even leave. Then I figured CW and I had a misunderstanding (all in my head) and would likely cancel. I have this refrain in my head, telling me nothing ever works out/don't get your hopes up. It's my own special brand of bullshit so I hope I get over it fast. Damn if part of me doesn't want to run like hell and hermit back away with my little family with little change and the familiarity of what I know.
But I'm going. And I'm going to be brave. And sexy. And real. And try my damnest to trust him as everything he's done has told me I can. I'm going to get muddy and swim in the lake with the trout and not be intimidated by bears or cows or horses. And I'm not going to tell him to slow down ALL time in the Rhino. Hell, I packed a few lengths of soft white rope so it's bound to be...well BOUND. Deep breaths, a little shut eye, and hopefully he thinks it's charming when I fall asleep on his shoulder during the drive.
Fingers crossed,
Pen
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I've finally made it to my storybook cottage. It's stunning. More than the pictures could convey. On a wooded mountain filled with mountain laurel, rhododendrons, and fern. Rocky paths lead to little secret clearings with benches or tables or a bridge over a deep pool of trout stream. Air conditioning is not necessary as it's cool with the windows open listening to the water flow at night. Invested in some Thermacells so we will see how exploration fares tomorrow with the local bug population. It wasn't bed at sunset, much to my surprise. This may be the single most beautiful place I've ever stayed and I've stayed at some lovely spots.
I miss CW but this is my home landscape, hills and woods...the single thing I miss the most about living on the NJ coastal plain. It's a small historic home. The upper third of the living room walls still have the original oil painted murals of a century ago. The beauty is in sight, scent, auditory, and touch. It's so much that I feel it sink into my skin and head and heart. This is precisely where I belong in this moment in time and it doesn't get any better than that. Amazingly, my children share this same sense of awe.
Sipping my new drink, Balvenie. CW introduced me to single malts again. He tells me I am smiling, laughing and trusting. I am trying hard to not paint him with the same brush as those less honorable. I think he's right and I am doing so much more of all. I hadn't realized how missing in action my smile had become. But he does make me grin. He tells me I do the same to him and more. I slow him down. LOL! The man of action...I apparently make him think before he acts. I'm pretty Dominant with him if I think he doing something stupid just because he's not thinking something through or simply wants something to hell with the consequences. And we find we are both not wanting sexwise...and it's been a long long time since either of us have felt that. This is the first time I've felt sated for days after what is primarily vanilla sex. The sheet quantity of it and his endurance (and apparently mine for him) is extraordinary. When we are together we are all in....in every sense of the word... I'm getting a real sense of great adventures ahead on so many levels.
Oh, I'm so simply happy. Be happy too, y'all.
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Resolution of sorts with the ex, I'm told, is ahead. But I'm prepared as much as I can be for him to exert his own sort of passive aggressive control over my family's activities. My best technique is to outwardly at least let his drama-making tragedy performance do it's job and cause stress, respond as he wishes, then he needs to swoop in and be the savior of an artificial situation all of his own making. Patterns of behavior are tough to change; even more so for those to whom personal growth is not sought. I'm not as zen about this process as I can be when I write; wrung out and exhausted is closer to reality. A rainy day nap, invitation of friends, the support of this new man, and the inexorable pull of a fairy tale cottage in the woods are the cure for crazy-making exes.
I'm not fond of the word, boyfriend. But he's not my partner. I think he has hesitations and confusions about dating a woman with children given his relative inexperience with such. But he and his father lead a very intertwined life with more boundary issues than I, who have plenty of hard-fought boundaries (if flexible ones). As I write, it seems more a shared value of family than a difference.
Shared values are crucial. I sound like such an uptight prude saying it. And admittedly I have to step into that role with him and say "no." He's a man who always sees the possibilities, particularly in opportunities for fucking. I've taken charge of taming his exhibitionist tendencies. His testosterone level is very high, more so than most with a medication he must take that adds even more. Perfect for me in that boy, oh boy, the man can fuck and fuck and fuck. Still he's astonished this old lady can make him come 3 to 4 times a night. I try hard not to tell him it's no so unusual with the men I prefer. He claims it's the first time this has happened since his 20's and bragging to his friends who are apparently "no way"ing him right and left. Yes, I feel a little bit of pride in that, shallow ole me...But it's always about connection. It's that 1+1= FOUR in at last count. And endless o's for me.
He's dominant in bed. He has always had a love of rough sex, but I am bringing more out of him. And I can take more than most of his previous lovers. I seem to dominate more of the relationship but he is consciously putting me in position to do so. He lets me drive our activities and I have him dining at shore spots I've known for years that he hasn't as he's spent more time at his end of our row of beach towns over mine. A beautiful waterside evening earlier this week with mojitos and brushes of our arms, thighs, and caressing hands across the table. He understands table conversation and lingering and good, good food. Of course we did fuck it out first before we even left the house. Perfect way to start any evening. Meet/fuck/dine/drink/fuck-all-night/shower/fuck again. But it's more.
I am affectionate. A toucher. I stroke him and pet him. I massage him. Kiss his rather gorgeous chest. And he has a very short, military haircut he has trimmed every three weeks. The grey at his temples makes my mouth water and I need to kiss him there. Or the back of his impeccably maintained neck...I press my breast to his back and extend to my tiptoes for my lips to reach just that spot. It makes him growl and grab me. I love a man who's all man, a bit neanderthalish or not...
We kiss endlessly. I'd forgotten. Kissing like that is bonding. I don't fully bond with a man until we are skin-to-skin. Really I bond more physically whereas most others bond emotionally/mentally. I LIKE him. Trying to love him. It's effortless to love my children. Much harder to love a man. He tells me that women and men love differently. To most men, feeling a connection with a woman is love. And it can happen quickly. But then lose the connection and they fall out of love quickly. But women...we lead a life of connection and we stay connected to friends, family, children. So what takes a connection to love? I'm quite frankly not sure. Need? I know I am happy with him. And I am tweaking my life as it is to allow room and time for him.
We argue. Oh, do we argue. Two incredibly stubborn people. But we are both smart enough to give each other cooling down time and stay affectionate. The secret to cooling down my head is easy...heat up my body. All I need is touch to move past anger and to stay connected. He has always been told his physicality is too much. I've had partners who found mine the same and others who blossomed under it. But he has never received what he gives. Nor have I. Until now. I don't know why we are so alike in that way. But it's been a long long time coming. This I would miss.
We are going to have a bit of time away as I've long scheduled a family vacation. I'm not entirely convinced of his tenacity and patience so this will be a test run. I am, however, quite convinced of his loyalty. He and I may or may not stay in this relationship ultimately, but I'm not going to get anything passive from him. He will say so when it's not working as will I. But it does my head and heart good to meet a man whose word is still his honor. He understands and think's his might be the last generation of man who still does value keeping your word as the true test of a man. That just might be the sexiest thing of all.
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Stress increases as my ex makes his passive aggressive moves to make the children and I as uncomfortable as possible. Well, it's really just me who worries and struggles and loses it a bit. I try to protect the children as much as possible from the vagarities of schedules, cash flow, unkept promises, and drama. I got angry and sent a biting text. Usually I refrain but when he begins his usual slope of not paying heath insurance and other essentials...that's just bullshit. Nip it in the bud. He is mind fucking me deeply and I hold myself barely above above that climate of fear he has used to control me in the past.
I know I need to get stung now and then, like a stepping on a yellow jackets' nest in the woods. It hurts badly, but It's motivating.
CW and I butt heads since we are both strong willed. Sometimes we agree to disagree. Sometimes we can't see each other's point as were in our own zones and obtuse. But I'm finding that magic 24 hour rule is best with us as well as dealing with my ex. It's simple. Don't respond to a text, call, or whatnot for 24 hours. Especially if it's got you all het up about something. Let it rest. Let the words lose their power. And then your response will likely land on more receptive ears. I did that with the ex and still chose to send a provocative text. He did the usual male thing and implied I'm overly dramatic and crazy. And then 12 hours later asks me what specifically I need him to do.
CW I let stew overnight after nothing I said got through. I replied in the morning with a concise, explanatory, and affectionate text. With him I had faith he would hear me. And he did. A stressful few days ahead but I'm going to believe in abundance and remember all the plan b and c and d's I have in place for just these moments.
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This relationship with CW continues to open my eyes and perhaps my heart, wider. He gives me a new quality in my relationships. RECOGNITION. I knew I needed it, but not what a crucial element it is to me as a component of respect. I show up at the business and he stops what he's doing, smiles, and walks most definitively towards me. He's clear in his affection towards me and has made sure everyone knows I'm his girlfriend. And more and more see us as a couple. I never realized I needed that wider social acknowledgement, having stuck with discrete but ultimately unsatisfying relationships over the past decade. It's his first time with an equal (and he's conceded I'm perhaps his superior in intelligence to my shock and pleasure). He's clearly more worldly in terms of the wideness of his travels and experience and far more emotionally open. I try, but I do not give what he does in my words. He can feel what I feel through my lips and touch, but I say little. "Love" is still, to me, an overused and manipulative word too often used by men trained to deceive. I'm working on that faulty reasoning, but the scar is still there.
He's so damn clever, CW. He knows it's still easier for me to leave this than him. So he's careful and playing this well. But he's not a man who goes long without a steady relationship. I can't decide if his serial monogamy has more emphasis on the SERIAL than the MONOGAMY. And he's clearly very very good at relationships and sealing the deal. But he's always been the dominant one. And here we are equals. He loves it, but oh, I hurt him sometimes with my words. I tease too sharp at his past propensity for much younger women and he is not remotely amused when I find a man in uniform foreplay. Still, I like the jealous sort, as y'all might remember. But this guy has deep feelings so I need to be careful as he needs tenderness with his heart.
No one has ever kept him waiting or not been available or kept their scruples intact against his charm. I want him. I miss him. It's easy being with him. Natural and I'm perhaps more myself than with any other lover. I don't try to please; I just do. I don't have to embrace something that may not be my particular kink as ours seem to be mutual. Well, I do have perhaps more of a dark side, but he's enough of a beast when fucking to please that element. And thank heavens he's explorative. Though he continues to complain about the bruises and scratches I seem to inadvertently cause...while telling me we are going long and hard so there will be more next time. I see his fingerprints on my hips or thighs on occasion, so he can damn well take my marks as well. He can't see me as often as he wants as my schedule has gotten very tight these next weeks. I warned him amply, but I know this is hard for him.
The women with families he has dated formerly were not quite as scrupulous as I. He begs me to come over for an hour or two after bedtime. I want to see him, but there's no way I could do that without lying to my children. I've never done that and I'm not going to start for some guy. I remain ever tempted by him and I think it through. But the answer is no. He knows that's what the answer needs to be, but no one ever says no to him. He's sad, but impressed. I'd forgotten in my foray into cucking and fucking and FWBs and D/s what a moral soul I am at heart. And this time I know if he can't take that, screw him. Adore him I may at times, but he's not my heart and soul...those children are. Perhaps that's why I still feel I can walk if necessary, I still have deep true love in my life with or without him. He, on the other hand, must wonder if women want him for himself or what he can do for them.
I do try. I came by the business for a brief hello and gave him 15 minutes of a very busy busy day as I knew he needed to know I care and will make what effort I can. He needs the real, the face-to-face, as much as I do. Texting sucks most of the time and I've always been a fan. But you can't hear changes in tone or tongue-in-cheek comments. And you can't greet with a kiss or just touch. His employees all peeked in when he pulled me in for a kiss (yes, it was just a kiss or a few kisses). He read them the riot act for being disrespectful to us both. Fascinating. I think I like him.
Pen
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Switchiness combined with affection and appreciation is characterizing my interaction with CW, It is a completely different relationship than I can remember having before and a new sexual level for him, an experienced lothario. My muscle control and physical response tends to make lovers come explosively when they least expect it. He's so shocked each time that it makes me giggle. But then he turns it around and makes me do the same. Who knew being multiply orgasmic was that much of a turn on? I generally find it slightly over-the-top, messy and inconvenient. Thanks heavens most men don't have to fight my ladylike sensibilities. Sometimes I find the excessive in poor taste, even when it's my own involuntary physical response. I'm getting over it, thank heavens.
He's attentive. He's affectionate. He makes me smile. He's easy to be with. He's appreciative of my time, my attention, my bit of expertise. I tied him a few days ago. Oh, it felt good to play with soft white rope again, my perfect fetish. He'd never been. I'm not a sadist, so it was more sensual play than pain. I had him watch as I secured is hands, ropes tied to the feet of my bed. Then the blindfold. Leather gloves. Cold metal to make him gasp. A fur hand job with the reverse side of a vampire mitt. A pastry wheel along the pinkest areas of his skin. Sable paint brushes coating his balls. A mouth with alternately hot and cold liquid on his cock. Just enough taint and ass play to make him nervous. (I promised no penetration. He wants mine but I have a reciprocal approach to the ass and he's horrified by the idea.) Massage. Open mouthed kisses in the most exquisite spots. A bite or two out of the blue to watch him gasp and arch. Just enough chain to excite and frighten. Oh, the man was HAPPY.
Did I mention I whisper the NAUGHTIEST stories into his ear at the most unexpected times? I think I'm the eldest woman he's dated thus far and I'm three years his senior. It's rather nice to be a goddess...enthralling, wise and expert as what I know. But it's one thing when I FEEL it and quite another when I smile so wide you can see it across the room because he knows it and appreciates who I am.
Pen
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Googled today...."can a woman have too many orgasms?"
Life is good.
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It seems I've procured myself a boyfriend and I wasn't really trying. He's quite a lovely man, CW. I do find myself wondering what surprise deal-breaker trait is going to come to light. A bit telling that I think there must be something wrong with him in moments. The rest of the time I relax and enjoy. I'm shallow enough to enjoy my ex's jealousy of the silly things men love so much...sportscars and money. Hate 'em both, but put me in a convertible and let the air clear my head and it's hard not to be incandescently happy. I ran a background check as I do with all I date and he's clean. Then I find his police officer friend did the same for me. Two cautious people here, wanting to make damn sure each is who he/she says he/she is...it's almost refreshing to one such as me. I don't have to worry about him taking offense for checking him out if he's done the same. But then he's been the victim of predatory women...and there are just as many of them as there are predatory men. There's a comfort level in not having to explain myself. Still my world is getting smaller as too many common acquaintances have commented on our cars in each others' drives who know us both. He tells them I'm his gf to raised eyebrows of surprise and grins of approval. My compatriots tell me to "RELAX and enjoy. This is GOOD and not all men are married liars." Clearly. But I think and evaluate traits and histories and develop a risk profile. I don't even do it consciously. But I sure do it.
The oddest thing here with CW is how similar we are. We have mutual trust issues and value monogamy after discovering betrayals. We are blunt and simple speakers. Sometimes too much so. We crave touch incessantly. He is far more emotionally open than I. But I'm certainly a romantic at heart as much as I try to fight it and he knows it and OMG does he play to it. I don't think I have ever kissed and been kissed so much. I am trying to convince my brain to let my heart enjoy this for whatever it is. Right now it's a lovely thing and unexpected and beautiful. And quite frankly, I deserve this as much as he does. We are good people with big hearts who are too much for most of those we've met in the past. He sates me in ways I haven't felt before. And he's protective and finds the same joy in seeing me happy as I do him. He appreciates reactivity as much as I. I no longer believe in soulmates, but we are cut from the same cloth somehow. He has plenty of faults as do I. Many we share and I'm sure the potential to piss each other off is great; however, I'm a great fan of make up sex.
There's more of course, but I'm out of time. A boyfriend, who would have thought? And local, well-to-do, kind, and floats my boat??? Though really a male version of myself is a curious thing indeed.
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I'm letting him lead a bit more than I'd ordinarily accept, but I've been known to enjoy a dominant for a bit. I, inevitably, wrest control. Oh dear. I actually did, come to think of it. I had him over to the pool this morning which blew him away (no, darlings, not in the way you think). But we've spent minimal time at his place and my cheater radar dings. So I cut him off sexually until I met his dogs. Well, he took me straight from the pool to his home. Clearly a bachelor pad, thank heavens. I do, really really really enjoy a man of action. I've had far too much talk.
I remain cautiously optimistic.
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Ahhh, so CW is one of those men who falls in love rather easily I think. His estimation is 60% of his relationships have been love ones. I don't know why that should worry me so. Until I separated from my husband all my relationships were love relationships. There were two very nice men I dated nearly a year each post-separation that I tried to fall in love with but could not. I remember thinking how odd it was that I couldn't fall in love, nearly convinced that my heart was truly so broken love wouldn't happen anymore. Eventually even the intensity of kinky sex fades without emotional connection.
This though...I am trying hard to avoid the pitfalls of my last relationship with y'all know who. But there's no place for his name in this journal. And really it is quite different. It's not all text/IM. It's getting together very publicly, quite often, open, with mutual friends knowing we are together. He's clear about wanting exclusivity and made that commitment before I would. I like the idea of a man who clearly is totally into me and doesn't care if the world knows. Actually, who celebrates it enough to want the world to know. But damn that L word. To me love is what happens when you integrate each others lives toward a partly shared time. When family/friends/profession are part of a shared support network. We are not there. He's there. I'm not though I do so enjoy the romance of it.
I confess to craving his kisses as much as his cock. I adore that it wouldn't occur to him to shower without me there and wash my hair. What man washes a woman's hair? And kisses her tenderly in the process? And then needs to fuck her senseless for the forth time on the sink vanity? I'm trying to hold out but he's the only man I've ever met who is as physical as I. He's heard the complaints I have about it being too much...too much sex, too much touchy feely stuff....and with he and I it doesn't even enter the picture. It's comfortable and passionate to excess. Just enough excess.
Now he has a history. It's not hard for him to seduce. But then nor is it for I. But I have an outward innocence at least. He, while being the responsible business man, oozes a sense of genuineness and sheer testosterone. Everyone has confirmed he's not a cheat. Kinky, yes. He might nip me in public or pat my ass to my outrage. I confess, I like a man who is not afraid to claim a woman as his in public with affection and a touch of possession. But then I'm not his. Yet.
Pen
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I lost a day. CW. We spent the entire day snuggling, talking, fucking, kissing, stroking, sucking, massaging. I can't understand losing all conception of time. I don't know what it is that I, a 49-year-old woman, do that's so different. He's coming 3X or more a day when we are together. He's wrung out and empty when he leaves, but he doesn't want to leave. There's kissing and stroking and massaging and brushing the hair off my face tenderly. No one does this. Or no one has since I can remember. I am not in love but I am vulnerable to the appeal of sweetness and romance combined with a man who likes to fuck hard. That dichotomy works for me like dark chocolate times ten.
At one point, I'm listening to the cadence of his voice and I think "we've met before." He has always said so. It took me a while to pull it from recall, but it's not him but the voice and expression. He speaks like my first Dom. He looks at me the same way. It strikes me as both a warning and terribly amusing. He takes far better care of me and is certainly not a Dom most of the time, but he sure is trying to learn me. IDK. This is certainly a pleasure. I even ran late for a meeting today and amused him to no end running down the hallway while trying to put on my panties...
Pen
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I'm going to rechristen Date-from-hell, CW. He asks me to drop by the business and I inevitably refuse as I don't want to be one of his groupies. I had a rare moment alone today and my sexual injury finally started showing signs of easing. I broke my little rule and stopped in. You would have thought the sun came out to see the look on his face. I don't know if I have defenses against someone who seems so guileless about how into me he is. Last night I explained that it's easy to get carried away by this, but it's an escape. A lovely passionate interlude that has nothing to do with the reality of our lives and I'm OKAY with that. Apparently he either feels the need to further seal the deal or he is just that relationship hungry for a woman as enthusiastic as I.
He does back up his words with action. He's trying to introduce me to his father/business partner. I balked. He trying to get me to spend time at his house, get to know the dogs, etc. Asked me to another property and my family. It's lovely, really. Seems clear and open. Whether he is is or not, time will tell. But I am here to try to trust. So that I'll do. But I need to slow him down. Way down. I'm happy with now. I'll visit his home but the rest is going to have to wait. I have summer plans made months ago. And whereas he must structure his life primarily around the business; I must do the same around my family.
It must be a little like Annette Benning's hesitations with womanizer Warren Beatty. CW has usually dated women 10 years younger. He's monogamous I hear with who he's with, but I'm older than he, equally intelligent, and probably sexual enough for him to feel a bit of performance anxiety. Orally, he's in heaven. And oh, how I like to practice. All this pursut is likely to simply keep his cock in my throat.
I truly don't know how to integrate a male into my real life. I've long picked men who I didn't want to keep. I don't want anyone remotely stepfather ish in my children's lives. I despised every one of the men my mother married though I am not her. And I'll never marry again. And there's the issue of what if a man in my life fathers them better than their father? I don't want to upsurp him even though he's not what they deserve. It's all just so COMPLICATED.
But then here's a guy I'm pretty damn sure would have my back. He follows what he does with concrete action. Is it crazy when I get what I've been saying I want, to doubt it's veracity? It's long been a problem of mine to reach a goal and stand there clueless wondering "now what do I do?"
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Saturday night on the candlelit terrace in my throne of a swing chair, tucked in with a big red throw, listening to the water and my children as they pick honeysuckle and sip the nectar. There's such a huge dichotomy with my wholesome life and omg, my activities with date-from-hell (I really have to rename him) yesterday. I invited him over for a few hours which turned into an all day marathon. I was able to restructure my day; he choose to take time away from his business which is something I never see and dating entrepreneurs is derigeur with me. There are elements of falling in love here, but if I leanred anything from the past it's that too much too soon and I'm going to get burned. Still it's enjoyable.
But for two relatively respectable adults, we're sick fucks. Well, my words. He prefers to call our sex ambiguous. It's a good word. And applicable. I've a bum knee with healing lacerations from my fall on date-from-hell night. My shoulder has a large bite mark bruise and my upper arm revealed fingerprint like bruises from him holding me down (which I adore when fucking). My nipples are swollen and sore. My puss...well, it's going to take some recovery time. So....I like fisting. Okay, I fucking love fisting. But my problem wth instense sex is how I lose myself. That dopamine/oxytocin hit makes many of us impervious to pain at some point and that's when we do stupid shit. My fault, his hand. I'm still bleeding from the fisting, but I think it's turning to an early period hopefuly. Scared me a little but I didn't want to go to either my gyn or the E R with a sexual injury so I kept my fingers crossed and am waiting. I have a suspected bleeding disorder, so it didn't help, but it's becoming managable. Girls, you have watch those men with big hands and biting off more than you can chew. Of course I'm not the only one sporting injuries. His left ball is swollen 3x the size of the right, my bite back mark on his forearm (I'm still giggling at that one), and he's usually a little dizzy by the time he leaves here. Nothing really ambiguous, we are simply sick fucks after all. But damn its fun. Addictive too, and it's time to control that.
I said "no strings." He said "no strings." There are strings. We can't stop kissing each other. We can't stop stroking each other or inhaling each other's scent. He teased me yesterday with "you're falling in love..." I just told him "Stop it." I'm certainly infatuated. And he's going to come out with the "l" word soon. But I've been burned that way in the past, so I'm slowing it down. Good sex, even if it's the best sex of your life, is not love. It's passion, And it's a lovely find. But good sex is not a relationship even if you like each other a ton. Love is real time, real life, real public. Everything else is role play.
He's asked for a boyfriend/girlfriend night. Dinner, give me a massage, a little tv, no sex til I recover. Ha! I read blowjob there. I think he's in love for the simple reason I named his cock "el magnifico." I name my cocks. He can't help grinning. Hell, if I had one, I'd fall in love with a girl who named mine such a fine superlative. Ah well. Hooray for passion and kinky sex. Let's hope my recovery is swift and y'all get laid this gorgeous Saturday night.
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A rainy day in front of the desktop trying to sit comfortably but it's difficult in the best of ways. My puss is still tender from what seems like endless orgasms of Tuesday night. I had decided to give my Saturday evening date-from-hell another chance (likely because I simply really really wanted to fuck his brains out). In my view everyone is entitled to one spectacular screw up a relationship and should be forgiven. This guy & I are so much alike. Generally I've picked those who are very different to me, but I was very very curious. It's a bizarre feeling to listen to him and get a view of how perhaps others see me. My lack of a filter means I am hardly subtle and sometimes my irreverence is overkill. I can see it in him. But it's also so simple. You know precisely where you are. He follows his words with action. It's not hard as so many relationships are; it's very comfortable from the start. Oh, I'm not convinced he's the "one" in any definitive way, but similar means of expression and similar priorities have me breathing easy.
We used every towel in my linen closet. Perhaps to most that's not as loaded a statement as it is to me, but when you have very obvious o's (read "squirter" there) it's telling. He stayed. We tucked in. And for two mid aged plus 40 year olds, fucking all night is not the standard. Endless kissing. Endless o's. Care lavished on my bum knee and bruised shoulder. I find my responsiveness a bit over-the-top. So much so that it can be embarrassing for a female with ladylike sensibilities. But a proper partner finds it hot as hell. There's an ease when you lake subtlety and he KNOWS without a doubt how turned on you are and that HE took me there. Not to toot my own horn, but it makes me smile when a man finds the experience so exciting that he can't control coming himself. Like most it's very satisfying to provoke positive reaction in another.
I'm still processing the experience. And still washing linens...
Pen |
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My dating life has formed a pattern over the years. I meet relationship material guys in February/March. It either works for a year or so or doesn't. One ex lasted 4 years. But inevitably summer hits and I'm alone. I meet. I date. Three quarters make it to date two. It's been a long time since anyone has made it to date three, let alone relationship status. Clearly I want a vibrant regular sex life. It's good for me. A relationship though...who doesn't want connection? It does take the sex and elevate it. But fucking complications and/or angst and the time commitment do not appeal. And with me...as much as I know better...I develop expectations. I expect the magic that happens once in a blue moon to overtake us. Passion, joy, silliness, desire to give to each other...I think it's going happen and be this stunning, rare, life altering connection. Sometimes it is for a time. But y'all know how I struggle with trust/faith. I grew up on fairy tales; I escape with novels; reality is far messier than a plot you can contain in 400 pages.
As much as I see the sex...I get turned off when the social niceties aren't followed. The date. I always pay these days and it freaks out these men who claim no one has ever bought them dinner. But it leaves me free. Unencumbered. I invite them; I cover it; I'm a charming hostess...but then it's easier to say no somehow. Dinner and drinks is the classic. Conversation and intelligence. Add the oral component of food and drink. Mix in the not-so-inadvertent touch. And the plot thickens. I do not bring them home and fuck them, though there was a time I would. But I've been out of my sexless marriage for long enough and been sated that my cravings are more manageable. I do get turned on and desire. My lips, breasts and clit tingle as they fill with more oxygenated blood. It can work beautifully in a man's favor as my lips simple crave cock when that sensation builds. I find oral is also helpful for me to release my jaw and facial muscles, an area of tension for me. Win/win boys...
If I wanted to have sex I could. Hell, what woman can't? But I want kick ass sex. I want to be adored and stroked and appreciated for both my strength and vulnerability. And oddly for me, I want to be held. I could use a little tenderness and the sense of feeling safe and protected. Date-from-hell called me an Alpha woman. He's alpha himself and has never dated my type. I have never considered myself particularly Dominant, but then I find it hard to think in labels. Still I do end in charge across the board in my life. I don't want to. But if no one else is going to step up, I fill the gap. Someone has to lead, make decisions, watch out for others.
It's a beautiful day and I'm off. A day filled with washing and folding, developmental psychology readings on the terrace, and icing that not particularly attractive knee of mine. Get out there darlings, take a walk, let the sun kiss your face if not a favored playmate.
Best,
Pen |
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Well, Mr. Date-from-hell showed up at my door to apologize today. I concluded this morning that it must have been the cortisol injection he had before we went out. Add alcohol and he turned into a moron. I do appreciate those who deal with their mistakes head on and take the hit. And he did manage that and is completely horrified at his behavior. Interestingly a police officer friend videoed the entire cluster fuck of the latter part of our date. All are apparently shocked at him. So perhaps it is out of character but seriously, where does one go from here? One friend socked him and chipped his tooth when he discovered he mixed meds and alcohol when he knows better. So at least he's being punished. I did receive an even more horrified and abject apology when he saw the vid.
Fuck it. My knee hurts, my shoulder's sore from his bite, but I managed to plant an entire garden of fleurs and veges today. It's utterly beautiful. I even made a giagantic bamboo teepee for peas and cukes. My daughter planted seeds in pots, egg cartons, and inbetween the flowers in the garden. In recent years the wildlife has dug up ever sunflower so now we plant hundreds and are lucky if we get 3. But a mammoth sunflower is such a wonder it's worth it. I managed it all on a gimpy knee so I'm rather proud of it. We sushi'ed outdoors next to the garden, water in the background, watching the catbirds visit the fountain, and deciding whether to call it an oasis or paradise. In any case, being there heals.
I am STILL laughing that when he bit my shoulder I bit him back and he yelled like a baby. I'm a bold soul anymore. But I don't know if I want to date at all.
Pen |
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We all know internet relationships aren't really a test of how two people are together in person. But it's deceiving. You're relaxed, you're yourself, you have time to express what you really feel and think. You condense who you are into a profile that you think is just who you are and find one who appeals and makes you smile. And you spend time connecting with your words. You look forward to it as one of the better parts of your day.
I have met men I've been madly attracted to from our conversation. But I think like everyone I fill in the blanks too much. We see a dozen or so characteristics we like and we get excited as this one might be that mutual connection we seek. Unconsciously we fill in other traits that seem to go with those attractive ones, even though there might be no evidence they're there. Inevitably rude awakenings ensue. And you feel bad, doubt your cognition, and think you're never going to find that cognition. Then you dust yourself off and try again.
Last night a great long bout of sex was almost a foregone conclusion. But the guy turned into such a tool that I ended up just leaving and hailing a cab home. Classic shore guy who I usually don't date since most of them are neanderthals. But he pulled the intelligence card and y'all that works for me everytime. Between a very public bite to my shoulder (yes, readers, I bit him back) and way too much public kissy face to the point where he was dipping me back far enough that it's lucky my chair didn't tip and end up with a head injury from the concrete wall behind us. I managed it. But by the end when I said I wanted to go home and saw him barely able to manage the stairs, I knew I wasn't getting into even a taxi with him. I haven't walked away like that since I was in my 20s and couldn't imagine getting myself into a situation where I'd need to in middle age. I walked away quickly to a restaurant a block away, taking a fall on the train tracks on the way, called a cab and waited, feeling a bit of humiliation and disbelief. I suspect the man was impaired with drug use as well but I have no radar for such things. Arrived home chilled, bleeding, sore, with my head repeating WTF???
Trying all the things that make me feel better today. Tea. My usual eggwhite eggs in the nest. Added a choc cream filled donut for the sugar hit. I understand now why the Dunkin does such a business. Floating outside in my swing chair. Reaching out to friends. Trying to understand. My right side hurts from primary toe to knes to shoulder bite. Not aches. Hurts like hell. I did call for a massage and have hopes they'll have an opening. Touch for me heals. And right now I need some tlc. Thank heavens for fresh air and sunshine. I may listen to what the universe is trying to tell me and stop dating. Plenty of other areas to direct my attentions to.
Pen |
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I've been dating up a storm. It sounds terrible, but sometimes 2 in one day. Now I'm not fucking them both, but hell, I haven't much time and most don't get beyond a first date. I've been tempted to cancel several times but everyone tells me why??? Go! One can always learn from other I expect and practice, after all, makes.....
A man with real potential, I'd thought, bites the dust. This time it wasn't through my mistrust so I'll count that as progress. I'm a sucker though. I believe the advertising one puts in their profile to make the sale. Educated, responsible single father, professional & established....works for me and really he is all of the above. I have a bias. I expect educated to be oh, slightly highbrow, mannerly, and a great conversationalist. And really, education is no indication of any of those characteristics. The man lives in a magnificent historic home he's renovating and passion of any sort charms me. But damn it....a household of men for too long does not build skills in dealing with a woman, even a woman with as much male sensibility as I. Hint guys: if you have a woman in your bed, naked or not, sports on tv should NOT be on. A naked woman is ALWAYS the center of your attention or she won't stay naked long.
The man is perfectly endowed. But this is the second man I've seen with bad knees. Hence, a whole lot of me on top and doggy on the edge of the bed. I know it's boring, but I completely adore missionary. That slight sense of dominance. The angle. The pressure of a body on top of mine. Looking up and seeing arousal on his face. Kissing in between. Sigh. And damn, when it gets hard and deep....shazam! Dammit, this time my hair didn't even get messed up. Funny. I got well hung, deep, thick, hot guy....and I had to focus on taking him without getting hurt instead of losing my self in sheer physicality.
I'm ranting and probably need to lighten up. But I'll just keep trying. And I am not going sublimate what Mr. Romance called my "brashness." I do have a sensibility of consequences to what I say to someone. But half a lifetime of being a good girl and swallowing down what I really think is enough. The second half of my life I'm keeping it real. I'm still a good girl. But I'm passionate, and adult and sexual and funny as hell when I get going. Baiting my line again and throwing the last fish back in the sea....
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I am certain I wrote an entry yesterday, but it hasn't seem to have stuck here. The vagarities of wifi on the run.
I'm back to being an early bird, though sleep is long in coming to me when I tuck in. I'm still craving heat. I did stay with Mr. Thick at his puppy dog pleading night before last. He was charming, if nervous again. Really, there's nothing about me to make anyone nervous. I'm accepting and love conversation about anything. He ends up talking too fast; a hand on his arm or thigh and he takes a deep breath and slows down. It's charming and reassuring to see how we all need a bit of reassurance now and then. He has an extraordinarily lovely place high on a hill overlooking the water, though I sometimes feel I'm in a fishbowl having sex. He is far thicker than I remembered. Such a lovely surprise since I had long sought a cock like his. We talked how usually during extended sex he would get sore and need to use so much lube. Thank heavens my hormonal changes had not affected my receptiveness and arousal cycle as all seems to still work beautifully. Is it really so rare to find a woman who excitement level is not remotely subtle? Or perhaps he's just being kind.
The edge, though, is back again. I need every other day sex for optimal function and smileability. LOL. Unless you add kink...hell, then the satiation lasts and lasts. Fingers crossed a bit of it will come my way.
Pen |
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Langa Robiola Bosina. It was so poetic I had to write it down. It's a soft as silk Italian cheese. Tastes like sheep's milk and divine. I'm wallowing a bit in small luxuries. Added a scent to my wardrobe at long last. Discovered a new tea source. Makes tea of such clarity that it's beautiful to see in my fav clear doublewalled glass mugs. Today I managed to cut back the blackberry vines over the net house they grow on and finally add solar fairy lights. Adding a little magic to my children's lives is the best sort of luxury. The solar fountain I bought last year I still can't get to work, but managed to bypass it with just electrical so the outdoor area I'm prepping to hang out in for a class I'm beginning shortly. This old place and the old girl who lives here are shaping up enough that I'm tempted to have a party. Or at least a guest. Best I start small. Trust, trust, trust....sigh. I would've invited Mr. Romance to see my amateur efforts at gardening in a way that respected the existing elements of the older landscape. And I hired a proper landscaper today. All details...but I LIKE details; pulling together disparate elements is my strength. I even managed to find a Victorian wall vase in my old shop that I've forever loved and could never figure out just what to do with. I screwed it onto my outside door as a living wreath, filled with lilacs. Hell, even I shake my head at finding a victorian wall vase just laying around and figured I might as well do something with it.
My ex will show up tonight and our last sayonara was not positive. I'm dreading him. But the children need his attention and even asked today if they would see him more in the summer as right now doesn't seem enough. Hard to answer, I simply said they can talk to their father about it and I will gladly get them where they need to be to spend time with him.
I am getting a tremendous amount of attention from another site and they keep giving me a free membership as a result. I suppose it's kismet since it happened just as Mr. Romance put the kibbotz on things. Now though to find someone I feel excited about. I've adjusted my attitude enough to realize I'm not going back to being the good wife/mother/girl next door I've always been. Not exclusively that. We all have a dark side, call it my inner bad girl...and in a past relationship ALL of me was embraced. I don't want to hide that dichotomy. I want to embrace the same in my partner and he, mine.
Pen |
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An extraordinarily beautiful night. The children and I spent this Mother's Day at home. It's odd with Gran gone, but I suppose I am of the age now where I supplant her as the matriarch of sorts. I'm a good parent, but I still shake my head at being in charge of everyone. It invariably happens, but really it has never been a role I've sought. There's a breech, a gap, a need....I fill it.
I put everyone to work today. sorting out the gardens and lawn and hedges. We all worked hard for a Mother's Day, but then usually my days are more cerebral so this was a departure. I'd forgotten how beautiful it is here. I put in the first of the gardens in 97. I had stopped enjoying it all and just found it a sad remnant of a life that turned out the wrong way when my marriage ended. It became a burden. I don't know it it was that long winter or Mr. Romance's farm, but right now I'm very very grateful for this. It's one of the things I can do that no one else seems to get. IDK why. It's not that hard, but no one seems to know that benign neglect is the best way for your garden to grow. I'm feeling motivated to try a bit more than I usually do, but I'm hiring help this year for the maintenance.
I'm just so at peace. Comfortable. Right. Without angst. When I am out of doors. And nights with fairly lights, stars and moon, and a big cushioned swing are about as good as it gets. I don't even need wine to make it better. A cup of tea is just the thing. The children agreed, being here is better than tv. High praise indeed.
I was blessed to hear from friends but I didn't respond, giving technology a rest today. Of course I couldn't stay away from ye olde diary here for long. I'm just grateful.
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There are pluses to single momming at 49. I make all the decisions. There's little frustration at a mate for not holding to house rules we'd mutually agreed on. Less battle. Though still some. Even in a benevolent dictatorship, rebellion is natural. We are a team, my little family and I. Still I'm the top of this pyramid and it can be a lonely place.
I'm still wishing I didn't screw things up with the lovely man I met last week at this time. Of course all the reservations I had about him have conveniently been forgotten since I can fantasize about what could be all I want. But the man taught me that I have further to go than I thought. Time to try a little trust. Baby steps there. And if someone proves unworthy of it, I have watch I don't think everyone is the same. A good friend/masseuse of mine tells me how many men lament the impossiblity of simply finding a nice woman. No one knows how to go about it. Back in the day your friends would fix you up. But we are all so busy that dinner parties come only at holidays.
I look better than I ever have, even if my chin is a little softer and my stomach a little rounder. My lingerie collection far exceeds that little piece of midnight blue silk I wore on my honeymoon. And hell, for a change I'm going to wear it without a specific person in mind. I watch people. In restaruants, ballgames, wherever. Older couples and families especially fascinate me. I look for those who give me hope that people still grow old together and keep loving each other. And when they are kind to each other, well...that's a whole jumpstart on faith there.
I'm attempting to let a nice man or two into my world. It's very foreign to me, but I think it's the next step.
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Formerly cuckfemme on here. It's time for a new start.
Pen |
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| Age: 38 |
| LUBBOCK,
Texas |
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