January 23, 2011

Sometimes, I hate having to make the choice about which house to be at/which partner to be with.  Like last night. I wanted them both. Being in bed, snuggling up with Ad was lovely, but I really wanted W here too. Emails back and forth just didn’t cut it.

I should have been happy with that, since I’d spent the previous day/night at W’s, but…not so much. It isn’t an unhappiness at being with Ad, just a…longing to have them both with me. Like normal couples, you know?

Other times, it is really good to have one and then the other to talk to. Ad really helped me organize my thoughts/ put myself into right thinking on something I had been struggling with.  I was then able to take that clearheadedness over to W’s and discuss it with him. Both talks were wonderful, and I made real break-thrus in each, but I don’t think one could have happened without the other. So that’s when it’s good to have them separate.

And of course, sometimes I just like to be with one and not the other.

But sometimes I wish that it was the separate time that was the option, and not the together time.

Wisdom from the mouth of babes:

Upon seeing the empty shelving space for shoes in my new closet (Ad made lots of extra room), the Boychild said, “Mom, you need to buy more shoes to fill up your shelves.” The ever-practical Missy said, “I can see one problem with this fantastic new closet, Mom. You’ll want to buy more shoes to fill all that space.”

I’m going to walk a bit today again. It’s been 1 week + 1 day since the last time. I made it five blocks then before I had to stop. Going to go slow and try for a 1/2 mile today, as I have been getting stronger every day in the past week.  We even did a (not-aggressive, but still mildly stressful) rope scene yesterday. I was wiped out after, but not miserably so, and actually liked the feeling of having done something physical. So I think I am up for a walk.

Also, grocery shopping. Realized how little protein & veges I get daily by seeing W’s diet that was supplied by the nutritionist. Yes, I am thin, but if I want lean muscle, I need more protein. So working on that.

Just got back from running around.  Walked a mile.  Slowly, but with only a bit of fatigue or discomfort. I tried to do some arms, but still found that too strenuous on the abdomen. You wouldn’t think that you use your abs to lift your arms, but you do, even with a machine that isolates them. Oh well.  New plan: walk 1 – 1.5 miles daily this week, working slowly on my endurance. Next weekend, try arms again.

Got a lot of organizing in the new closet done, made dinner with the Missy and then prepped lentil soup for the slow cooker for tomorrow’s dinner. Also made Ad’s and my lunches for tomorrow and prepped him on what to eat for breakfast/snacks. I hate having to nag him to change his eating habits, but it’s got to be done. If I just do it for him (prepare meals, watch his portions, tell him to meet me at the gym) maybe he’ll do it.  I don’t know.  But I do know that he won’t be happy with himself on the cruise if he doesn’t feel better about himself physically.

I’m trying to crochet a bikini for the cruise. The first pattern I tried I didn’t understand the instructions, so we’re on to number 2. I’m kind of excited about making it. It calls for a lining, but since it’s a swinger cruise, clothing-optional in the pool area, I’m planning to leave it unlined, so it’ll be a peek-a-boo bikini! It was W’s idea-I hope I can figure out how to make it and that he’ll be there to see it. :-)

Oh and ha–I have been asked twice now, once by coworkers, once by kids, where the cruise is going. And guess what?  A) I can’t remember (we are going on it for the swinger/kinky fun, not the ports), and B) I don’t want either of them looking it up and seeing that it’s a “Lifestyle Takeover” cruise! lol  So I have to look for another cruise of the same length to fib about being on.  And oh no…when I start fibbing…bad stuff happens. I am SUCH a poor liar!

Okay, that’s all I got for now.


Truth: Day 18 – Marriage

January 14, 2011

Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free. ~ Bible, John 8:32

Day 18 → Your views on gay marriage.

It’s amazing what a difference a good pair of warm, fuzzy boots, rather than athletic shoes, makes.  My feet were warm on the drive in to work this morning for the first time since the weather has turned bitter. To stick with the bible theme above: hallelujah!

Also, I love this blog: The Hot Word Blog. Today it has a post about the meaning of the words for the zodiac signs, by way of the “news” that was all over the internets yesterday that your zodiac sign may have changed.  ABC news and astrologers like Susan Miller (@astrologyzone) are saying this is old news–about 3,000 years old, since it’s been predicted since then–but it’s been an interesting story to follow.

(With the “new dates,” by the way, I am exactly on the cusp of Leo and Virgo (previously I was a Virgo.)  It might be interesting to see what that “change” might mean, but regardless, I’ve always wanted to be able to say I’m “on the cusp”! ;-)  Oh, and W, I think you’re an Aquarius, now!)

And, as yet another aside, I adore my daughter. Have I said that recently? She and her friend came in to my office today. They have always volunteered at the fundraising event I manage the volunteers for each year, but always before it was because their high school required x number of volunteer hours.  I was immeasurably pleased when she came to talk to me the other night about continuing to volunteer, and also some ideas she had to bring in additional volunteers and help generate teams.  They were all creative ideas and she wanted to help implement them.  I am so impressed with her initiative and enthusiasm.  Anyway, today she and her cohort-in-volunteering came in to talk to the event manager about these ideas, and I bought us sandwiches and we sat around and talked, or I worked while they chattered away, until, for some reason, I started talking about who I follow on my work Twitter, and Stephen Hawking’s name came up, and then we all sat there talking about him and physics and ALS and  intelligence and space aliens (not sure where the space aliens came in.)  See why I love my girl(s)?

All right, down to brass tacks, as my dad used to say. The topic of today’s Truth is gay marriage. My answer is simple: if two persons of the same sex wish to marry, then they should be allowed to. So should three persons. Or four. Of any sexual orientation. The right to marry, since it is a governmentally-sanctioned institution, should not be rooted in religious beliefs. Personally, I think marriage as a religious rite should be separated from civil unions entirely. Then, if a certain religion doesn’t want to approve of gay marriage, more power to them. But a state-sanctioned institution should not discriminate based on religious beliefs (which I think most of the arguments against gay marriage stem from.)

Actually, the whole marriage industry/mysticism/fascination bemuses, amazes and, at times, shocks me. I understand the legal reasons behind civil unions.  That makes sense to me (tho preferential treatment to married persons over singles enrages me.) But this whole thing of spending thousands of dollars on one day, of all the misguided anticipation and consumerism that goes into it, just repels me.

Okay, back to your normally scheduled Friday evening activities!

My God that thing is freakishly HUGE!

January 12, 2011

All right, now that I have your attention, get your minds out of the gutter. I was talking about W’s new flat screen TV that got delivered a few days ago. And actually, it’s not as large as I thought it was (heh, that’s what she said…ok, ok, enough of that…), although for a non-TV watcher, anything over the 20-something inch screen we have seems gargantuan. Ad and I went over the other night to help him set it up, and afterward they went to Lowe’s to pick up some shelving, while I stayed behind at W’s, cooling my heels.

It’s kind of strange, being in this enforced-vanilla mode with W. Even when I was being naughty, there was the underlying knowledge that we were still, at heart, just being a regular ole couple…err, triple. (Odd that being with both my men has become so commonplace, so “normal” that I don’t even include that in my assessment of whether or not something is “vanilla.”) Anyway…no bondage, no slutwear, no high heels. W and I talk a lot about kink, because, let’s face it, that is a large part of our mutual interest, but not being able to be kinky is…wearing. I miss my Mean Guy.

At the same time, the five or six days we spent together, like, every minute while I was in the initial stage of recuperation, when I couldn’t use the restroom without assistance and was, literally, bedridden, was really, really enjoyable.  Even if he wasn’t beating me up. I’m amazed at how compatible we are in a vanilla sense, as well as in kink.

On the other hand, I realized how different his life is from mine in some ways. He really never has to stop living in his kinky world. Semi-retired and comfortable financially, living alone, with his family hundreds of miles away, he really has been able to craft his life exactly as he wants it, and his main interest/focus really is kink, his bondage website, tying me up and abusing me when he can, and creating & selling infernal devices to torture woman.  Of course he also works on renovating his house, but even that is done in such a way as to make it exactly the way he wants it so he can use the space and invite others to use it for kink.  He doesn’t have to step back and forth between the vanilla world and his world as I do, with my job and family and children and even my relationship with Ad. No wonder he doesn’t understand sometimes my need to be (forcefully if necessary, or by rituals or expressed dominance) reminded of our dynamic.

But sometimes I think he likes being dragged kicking and screaming invited into my vanilla world too.  I think he enjoyed being part of my family, cooking, playing board games, playing caretaker to me (ok maybe that part wasn’t so much fun), hanging out with my daughter and I and watching us interact, watching TV(!) with me on the internet, helping Ad with plans for the walk-in closet, joining in discussions with my kids about college and majors and what they want to do with their lives.

My daughter had told me several days before that she had decided that maybe she would “just get a teaching certificate and teach high school English.”  The way she said it I knew it was a statement of…defeat.  Or resignation.  She has been fairly undecided about what she wants to do, and I have encouraged her to take her time in making a decision, to simply take her undergraduate classes and to give herself time to think about what she wants to major in, etc. She has said, and I have known, all along, that one of her great loves is writing, and I would never discourage her from pursuing that as vocation or avocation, but I have also seen her passion and interest in biology, anatomy and physiology, and so I was surprised at this sudden decision.

“Well, that’s fine,” I said cautiously, “if that’s what you really want to do. But…why? What is it about teaching that attracts you?”  I wanted to know what was at the root of her “decision,” because I didn’t feel that it was one she was making out of joy or passion. Instead she seemed dispirited by it.

What followed was a really good discussion by all of us–Ad, me, W, the Missy and even her boyfriend, as we discussed the merits and drawbacks in choosing teaching–and teaching English–as a career, and as we finally got to the root of the matter. “I hate chemistry!” she wailed. “Do you know how many chem classes I have to take to get a degree in biology??”

I let that ride for a couple days while I mulled this over.  But then, a few days later, I called her into my bedroom, where I had been doing most of my recuperating.  W was there, computer on his lap, and she climbed up onto the bed next to me.

“Missy,” I said, “talk to me about this chemistry stuff.”  And we talked about her fear of failing, of her father’s wrath with her if she failed, of not being able to “cut it” in chemistry.

Now don’t get me wrong. I know how hard chemistry is. I have never been able to pass it, and don’t ever care to. But I have also not done so many things in my life out of fear.  Fear of failing, fear of rejection, fear of change.

“Look,” I finally said, “if what you really truly want to do, if it is your heart’s desire to teach English, then I want you to do that. I am behind you 100% of the way. But if you are only doing that to avoid trying to pass chemistry, because you are afraid of failing–that I can’t support.  Do not live your life refusing to try because you might fail. I’m not saying you won’t fail–but if you do, then we’ll figure out what you need to learn, we’ll get you help, and you’ll try again until you succeed. That’s all there is to it. You are smart enough to learn it. I know that for a fact. And I have seen the way you light up when you talk about science stuff, I have seen the way it moves you.  To turn your back on that without even trying would be wrong. If, after you have tried it, you decide it’s not for you, then fine, we’ll look at other options. But don’t give up before you’ve even had a chance to try.”

And then W chimed in about success and failure and college and degrees and life and careers and chemistry and following your passion. And it was just such a perfect poly moment, sitting there with him and her, listening to them, talking with her, discussing the course of her life and all those wonderful, exciting, terrifying decisions that one has to make as a young adult, and sharing all that–all that parenting–with him.  I could see that she respected what he had to say, just as she respects what Ad says, and it warmed my heart.

Occasionally I think, “give me back the kink!” especially when I have been so bereft of it as I have been lately.  But when I am able to sit back and really appreciate the fullness of what we have now, even if it’s not all-kink, all the time, I do not for one minute wish it back to the beginning, when we both thought he’d just tie me up, beat me and fuck me and push me out the door.

It helps though when, as he did tonight before I left his house to come home, he pushes me to my knees and does nasty things to me, banging my head against the radiator while he tells me more nasty things he’s going to do to me, or make me do.  A little reminder of our roots–and that we’ll soon be returning to that side of our life as well, is a good thing. :-)

A Happy Day

December 20, 2010

Ah the joys of popping awake at 4am. Not sure what this is about, but I’m ready to get over it. Now. Please?

My week is looking up. I hate to admit that just the thought of seeing W gives me a whole new outlook, but, okay, it does.  I was pretty crabby yesterday, after a week of enforced quarantine from him due to health issues.  His, not mine. He caught an awful cold last weekend-ish, and has literally been nearly bedridden the entire time, too sick to do much more than sleep, take meds, sip a little soup and send the occasional email that he’s still alive. Because I have some rather major surgery scheduled next week, he hasn’t allowed me anywhere near him, which has been driving me nuts.  Besides just being crabby about being separated and having so little contact, it’s also been hard because I am a nurturer and a caretaker at heart, and to know he’s been alone and sick all this time, without someone to care for him, about kills me.  He says he prefers to be alone when he’s ill, but I think he lies. No one likes to be sick and alone. Period.  So this past week has been rough.

This is one of the conundrums of living separately. I consider both he and Ad co-primaries, and yet, because W and I live apart, I can’t share in all the little parts of daily life with W that Ad and I do.  If he was just a sex/kink partner, that would probably be fine–keep the relationship at a shallow level–but he’s not, and it is very hard for me to deal with him as if he is, when he holds me at arm’s length like he did this past week. It makes me feel rejected, our relationship somehow minimized, to be told to stay away because he is ill. Sharing the good and the bad, caring for each other during the good times and bad, helping each other, are all hallmarks, to me, of a relationship that is about more than just getting fucked. And though I may write about that aspect of it in Pieces of Jade quite a bit, our relationship means quite a bit more to me than that.  Honestly, I know it does to him too, but it’s hard for me to see beyond the knee-jerk “he doesn’t want me around” feeling to know that in my heart as well as my head.

But then I read a line in an email, “Please call me, I miss the sound of your voice,” or I talk to him on the phone (finally, last night) and I hear him tell me he’s been protecting me, and it puts it–and my head–in proper perspective again. I am so needy at times it makes me sick. But that really is all it takes. To know, to hear, that he misses me, that he wants me there, and I feel okay again. Not happy about him not letting me be there to care for him, but on sure footing again in our relationship. I know, I know–he tells me all the time that I shouldn’t question that or feel these anxieties, but the fact is I do. I am learning not to react (overly much) about them though. “You can’t control how you feel, but you can control how you react.” That’s my mantra, that is the shining example of being a “better person” that I reach for and hope to achieve, and, slowly, I am.

Of course, it took me three days to call him after he emailed me, because I was still crabby at him for not letting me be there.  I didn’t say that I don’t react, just that I am learning. Baby steps.

I had really sweet moment when we talked.  I am sure I am projecting too much onto this one phrase (especially as I am the one that brought it up) but he was telling me why he hadn’t allowed me near him while he’s been sick. Personally, I think he was being excessive about it, and he admitted to it, echoing my own “You’re being over-protective.” But when he said it, it wasn’t an indictment, it was an admission of caring that completely disarmed me.  He is very protective of me, caring and concerned in a way that speaks volumes about him as a person, and about our relationship in general.  And made me realize that for all his protestations of wanting to be alone when he’s sick, if it hadn’t been for my surgery coming up, and him wanting to protect my health prior to that, he would have allowed me to come over, and probably appreciated having me there.  He was sacrificing for me, not being difficult or stubborn.

So yeah, as I said, my week’s looking up.

Got most of my shopping done. As odd as this may seem, although I hate to do the decorating stuff at Christmas, and have issues with the celebration of Christmas in general (for information on the real origins of Christmas, read here), I really, truly love the excuse to shop for presents for my loved ones. Not that I need an excuse to give presents, but having one gives me license to indulge myself (and them.) I get to hunt for just the right thing and I get to spend hours shopping, dealing with the hustle and bustle of the stores, which I love.  It’s the exact opposite of how I feel about shopping in general (unless I am on the hunt for a perfect pair of shoes.) And giving presents just makes me happy. To see someone’s face when I hit the gift-nail on the head gives me more satisfaction than getting a gift ever could. I am sure these feelings have narcissism at their roots, but you know what? I don’t care. I love it.

Anyway, got most of that done, as well as a handmade gift that I have been working on for weeks. I thought it would take a few days to complete, but it took far longer than that, and honestly, I’m not thrilled with the end result. (Sigh. I’m a bit of a perfectionist when it comes to these projects, which means I need to start NOW for the upcoming year’s gifts.)  But Ad says it’s beautiful, and it will have to do–if for no other reason than that it is a testament to my new “follow-thru” philosophy. LOL  I need to complete two smaller projects this week, but those really should take just a couple hours each.

This morning I am going to hit the gym and run a bit. I am not sure if I should even be worrying about working out, as I will probably be unable to be back at it for 6-8 weeks after my surgery, but (as Ad notes) working out makes me feel good in my head–it has nothing to do with being in “shape.” So I need to do it.

I spend the next two nights at W’s. I could hardly stand it when he said I could come over last night.  I wanted to drive over there right then, but realized I had no work clothes, nor my laptop, etc., so had to postpone it until today.

Wednesday our office closes early, and then is shut until January 3rd. Wednesday afternoon the Missy and I are grocery shopping for a dessert and cookie making extravaganza that we are having on Thursday. So far on the list are sugar cookies, cinnamon-sugar pinwheels, white-chocolate peppermint bark, Kahlua-chocolate cheesecake and my infamous chocolate chunk brownies.  She is making a list of several other cookies to make, and we are going to spend all day Thursday baking.

Oh yeah, that reminds me, need to get a tin for the cookies, so that I can wrap them and keep them from the marauding hordes before we head out to my sister’s on Saturday.

And last but not least, quite by accident (because I haven’t been keeping up with my blog reading) I ran across a fellow blogger’s “Top Blogs 2010” list, and found APL on it! I was enormously flattered and pleased to be listed among that august company.  The list is a good one, with many great bloggers on it, and a few new ones that I hadn’t heard about.  Head on over there and check it out!


November 29, 2010

I dreamed about my dad last night.  I do that much more occasionally now, but even so, even after–christ, what’s it been? 30 years?–even after all this time, it takes me a few minutes after I wake up to remember he’s dead.  And I have to relive it all, just for a minute, the pain, the sadness, the loss. These dreams are bittersweet in a way though, because they are the only time I get to see my father anymore.  For that very reason, I’m not sure if I would give them up, even if I do have to relive his loss all over in the morning.

This time I also dreamed about my brother. In an odd twist, I dreamed I was talking to my dad, trying to convince him that my brother wasn’t dead, and that I’d spoken to him and that we were all going to go camping together. It’s the camping part that clued me in as to why I was dreaming of my dad, though. There’s a new guy that I’ve been talking to on OKC that used to live in Oregon. For some reason talking to him got me thinking about driving the PCH with my dad when I was younger and camping in the back of his old Chevy pickup at Half Moon Bay and farther up the coast.  In my dream I was trying to talk my dad into taking the drive again so we could meet my brother, who used to live on the Northern California coast, in Humboldt County.  It’s odd to miss a brother that I never really knew, but I woke up missing him as well as my father.

And missing the rocky California coastline, the trees, the gray, choppy water, the fog. My daughter mentioned in a FB post that she wants to visit CA to “visit her roots.” Such an odd sentiment to me. I feel rootless most of the time, and though I long for the coast, it has nothing to do with feeling like it’s home. Still, perhaps I could take her there, on that same drive that my dad and I took during the summers of my childhood.

A Timely Reminder

November 11, 2010

I don’t know how she does it, but my daughter must have ESP.  I was laying in bed, reading a book (a novel of the aftermath of a nuclear war, now there’s an uplifting topic) and I get a text message from her.  “Go check email.”

I hem and haw, say I am in bed and don’t want to get up to look at it.  She insists. “It’s worth it,” she says. So I drag my sorry ass out of bed, and this is what my beautiful, amazing daughter has sent me:

She does the darnedest things, that girl.   How can I be such a sad sack when I have her in my life?  Time to start counting my blessings rather than whining about unimportant things.

The collage is now on my desktop to remind me of what’s important.

Weekend Update

September 27, 2010

W’s out of town this week, so I am practicing my “I’m just a normal mom/girlfriend/psuedo-daughter-in-law/daughter” facade, checking everyone’s schedule, driving kids around, working out, writing, reading, planning dinners and making a grocery list (slow cooker food even!), doing all those normal mom/girlfriend type things–you know, the ones that don’t involve kink. Cuz my kink-guy is outta town. (sad face) Even he is pretending to be a normal person–he’s at his daughter’s place on the East Coast, waiting for her to have her baby, his first grandchild. Wow, huh? My kinky guy’s gonna be a grandpa! Part of me wishes that (well sometimes) we were a “normal” couple, and that I could get to know his daughter/grandchild.  You know, share in that? But I guess vicariously will have to do.  And hell, I make a lousy in-law with Ad’s family, and they are pretty awesome, so what am I saying? Why add to the weight of familial obligation?

I do pretty much have my week scheduled out though. This morning I dropped off the BoyChild at school (remembering to give him lunch money–I haven’t forgotten once yet! Go me…) and went to the gym.  Ran two miles and did some weights, and, um…bleh, I’m already a bit tight.  :-(  That’s what happens to lazy girls. Missy, her bf, the BC, Ad, me are home for dinner tonight, so I need to figure out what to make…oh yumm, just found a recipe for chicken enchilada casserole…!  Loving allrecipes.com and their “recipe box” feature.  And making a weekly menu makes me feel like a “real” mom.  lol  Tomorrow I drive the BC to school again, but I am planning to go to a workout class with my workmates tomorrow night–my first at the new gym–so don’t think I’ll hit the gym in the AM. I’d like to get some writing done, real writing on a new project, maybe I’ll grab me a coffee & a bagel and write at the cafe for an hour or so before work.  So, Tuesday night…slow cooker night? Wednesday is open (daughter & bf home, BC not.)  I was thinking about meeting a new guy from OKC for a drink, but…naw.  Think I’ll go home on time and hang with the kids and Ad.  So that means cooking dinner. (That’s three meals to plan!) Then Thursday is another gym class night, so, another easy or slow cooker night.

Sheesh sounds like all I do is think about food (and it’s true, I do, all the time!) but really, I kind of enjoy making dinner with Ad. It’s a really nice way to unwind from the day, and finding all these new recipes to try is a lot of fun.  Maybe not as much fun as getting tied up and messed with…or maybe it is.  It’s just a different kind of fun.


I had a pretty good weekend. Started with my boss giving me the okay to work one day a week from home, so I’m thrilled about that!  Already set it up so that I’ll be (most weeks) at W’s the night before, so I can combine “I’m an office slave” play with work. ;-)  Then Friday night was a “special” date.  That went…well.  I mean, the guy was thrilled, and it wasn’t awful, in that it was all for W, and that was hot, knowing that all the while he would be waiting to hear all about it, knowing he wanted me there, knowing that this guy knew, all through drinks and smalltalk, that he was going to get laid, because W had said so…  And knowing that the guy really felt…I don’t know, like he’d won the lottery or had dreamed his good fortune in getting the opportunity to spend and evening with me. It’s flattering, and from the angle of wanting to give, of really feeling submissive, it worked. It wasn’t great sex, but the sex I had with W on Saturday, while I told him about it, and then later again, was great.  But that was just as I had assumed it would be.  It’s always that way…it makes me so fucking hot to know I’ve done what he wanted, that I’ve pleased him, and to feel the pressure of his pushing me to go there. And, yes, to know I gave this guy something he might not have had the chance to experience otherwise.

Along that tangent, it always amazes me when a man says, “God, I’ve never met a woman that would do that!” (whatever “that” is) when it seems like such a normal thing to me.  Or, “I’ve never met a woman that likes sex so much!” And, of course, most have never met someone that will look them right in the eye and say, “My Owner has told me to satisfy you sexually.  Will you allow me to do that?”  One thing he (W) has given to me in all this is a sense of being…special. Unusual, and possibly…desired for that.  Sought after, even. I mentioned that before in terms of BDSM, that BDSM really gave me an understanding of how much my “differentness” made me special and desirable. And now…he’s shown me how my sexuality and sensuality makes me special too.  Wanted.  And when he says, “You’re hot!” I’m starting to believe it.  To feel it.  And not just because I’ll spread my legs, or let someone tie me up and hurt me. But because I’m…me.

I’m not trying to be self-deprecating or falsely modest here.  I do know I am an attractive woman.  But I have just never been “that” girl, you know, someone that men actively (and openly) look at, lust over, watch. And now…sometimes…I am. And…it’s kinda cool.

And yet, as wonderful as all that is, Saturday was spent trying to get through the particular kind of “drop” I always get after I do these things. It’s weird…similar (very) to subdrop, but without the subspace incident that usually precipitates such. It’s (I guess) a sort of reaction to doing something this…emotionally edgy for me. I am in this heightened state of anxiety for so long, and then deeply in this space where I am so focused on him that I almost…lose myself in my desire to please him, but then, when it’s over, I kind of have to come back to myself, and sometimes, well, I still suffer from feelings of guilt, of being “bad” that I can’t seem to shake no matter how much I tell myself it’s not bad, what I do.  And then, I need to work through those. Generally, I work through them by spending time with W, feeling and experiencing his very real admiration of me and what I do for him & for others, and know that it really is okay, what I do.

Or he fucks me silly, and makes it better that way. lol

Seriously though, I really need to be with him afterward.  For the first time this time, we tried having me going home to Ad, and it just didn’t work. Nothing against Ad, and in fact I highly praise him, because when I mentioned my low feelings of Saturday day, before I’d got to see W, he said, “Well, of course you were feeling down. You do this for him, with him, you need to be with him after.  I just don’t get it the way he does, and I can’t give you what you need to come back from it.” What a lovely, smart man he is.

So, in future, if we can’t schedule me being with W after, it will have to not happen until we can. I did get to spend Saturday afternoon and evening with him, and then the next morning (of my Sleeping in Chains post) and had a lovely scene later that afternoon before I took him to the airport, which was perfect for getting me recentered and feeling “normal” again, but the hours spent in a funk Saturday morning, avoiding him and everyone else, were not so good, even if they looked good on the outside (facial at a spa, library, shopping & a yummy (expensive) lunch alone at a favorite restaurant.) Alone-time is not good for my emotional state when I am in the throes of that.  It did all come right though, and Sunday morning I “woke up” feeling my usual sexy, sassy, happy self.

I do wish I could give W that bouncy, excited girl that he wants me to be after I do this stuff without the sad-girl part, though. I know he doesn’t understand why I suffer, and, more than wanting me to be bouncy for him, he probably just plain doesn’t like seeing me suffer needlessly. (Unless, of course, he is directly causing it, because he wants me to. Then it’s okay. lol) But for me, knowing I am not what he wants me to be only makes it worse. I hate to fail him, even in small ways, even when I know he doesn’t see it that way. It’s like being short.  I can’t change that about myself, but knowing he prefers tall women makes me feel a little less because I am not. And yet he would never phrase it that way, I am sure.  It’s stupid of me, I know!

Anyway, enough useless rambling…this is starting to be a “poor pitiful me” post, when it is certainly not meant to be.  Maybe I am just feeling down because he’s away, it’s after 5pm there, and I haven’t heard a peep out of him. I know we’re not a “real” couple (see above) but at least he could let me know he is there and safe.  This is when I truly resent the shit out of the fact that he doesn’t text.


Okay, off to the grocery and home to Ad and kids and making a yummy dinner, and maybe, later, some warm, loving “vanilla” sex with my boyfriend. That’ll make me feel better.