Archive for February, 2016

here’s to hoping

February 29, 2016

Last week did not go well for me and the bf. We fought. It was frustrating to say the least. I was feeling all under appreciated and completely forgotten. I don’t want to be just a thing you do because nothing else is going on.

I had soul searched all week. Gone this way and that. So many things on my mind about us. Heartbreaking things. The hardest part is wondering where all the good feels went. I didn’t get it. Could it be so quickly spent?

Friday I left town knowing this would be the weekend I ended it. I didn’t know what I was going to say, but I knew I was through. I packed up my dog and we left town.

Friday was also moving day for him. He took the day off from work, got the keys to his new place and started moving. He doesn’t have a lot. A one bedroom bachelor apartment takes 3 hours tops with a pair of extra hands and a trailer.

So by the time I’m half way their he has all the furniture and most everything else besides a few arm fulls of stuff moved out. He calls me and tells me that he didn’t make it to the water company in time. We won’t have water for the weekend.

What. Should I turn around?

I don’t say what I think because I’m pretty pissed and I don’t like saying words I’ll want back later. He’s had this date on his calendar for a full month. He had a month to figure all this out and get everything prepared. Not to mention all day.

I continue to drive. And fume. And I call my mom to bitch about it. I’m thinking… this is just fueling my fire. I needed the push. I’m going to get out of the car, dump him, get back in the car and stay in my apartment with flushing toilets.

Thirty minutes later I’m practically there when he calls back. I didn’t make it to the electric company in time. We won’t have electricity.

I continue to hold my tongue. He rambles talking about maybe we can camp out. Maybe we can stay with so and so or so and so. He is apologizing like crazy. I can tell, he hates himself right now. I’m deep breathing. In. Out. In. Out. This is just another straw as if I needed one!

I get there. He is so apologetic the entire time. He got his old apartment to let us stay there for the weekend. So we have electricity and water but we don’t have furniture. We end up making a palette for the weekend.

I have discovered I’m too old for sleeping on the floor. If you would’ve told me it was only going to take me one day to recover from it I would’ve thought you were crazy.

Despite such a terrible factor and bad start… He was a completely different person this weekend. No. He was his old self this weekend! I don’t know if he sensed the end in sight and he clung to everything he could to make it better. I don’t know if he felt so fucking bad that he catered to my every need and whim. I do know that he thought a lot about our conversation the week before. Everything I was down about him turned around. I was so down about not feeling anything from him, but he made me feel it this weekend. I felt loved. He was present. He was attentive.

Friday night was so much fun. His new neighbor gave him cake. We got a six pack of beer. We played cards, drank, and ate cake. It was actually fun. Sleeping on the floor was a bit difficult, but the quality time was indeed very high quality.

I went into the weekend knowing I was dumping him to not wanting to by the end. And I miss him for the first time in weeks. I don’t know what distracted him, but whatever it was is gone. I hope it lasts.

We shall see. I know that it could be short lived… he is thinking about it and working on it… I know if something doesn’t come naturally it gets too hard to hold up. I hope that isn’t the case. I was missing us in a terrible way. I felt like it was too early on in the relationship to have these kind of doubts. Here’s to hoping.

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hobby vs life style

February 23, 2016

I’ve been called out lately on something I said to someone once. I didn’t think much about it… I’m not the kind of person to have a memory that allows me to hold on to things like others do. I say things… and it’s always in passing.

Maybe this is just an excuse. A way of not being held accountable for the things I say. But I’m still pondering it.

What I said was that kink to me was like a hobby. I can take it and leave depending on where I am in life…

Now… I am NOT in anyway down playing what kink might mean to someone else. I got offended that anyone would be offended by me saying that. Of course I believe that other people can have a different opinion and a different feeling about it. I expect the same acknowledgement. But that’s slightly besides the point…

My point is… I’ve been rethinking that. Kink… a hobby. A hobby is something that you can choose to invest time in or not. It’s not a necessity. It’s something that you get heavily involved in at one point in your life and usually tappers off. It’s something you enjoy. Something you spend money on.

So… I don’t disagree that kink can be a hobby as I stated. I think a lot of those traits are relevent when talking about kink. But, you know what? I was wrong about what it is to me. While yes, it is something that I’ve been heavily involved in and not involved in at different times in the last few years, the value to me has never diminished. I will ALWAYS put d/s in a place of utmost respect and awe and longing and craving.

Anyway… I’m still working it all out. But I’d love it to be apart of my daily life again some day. Almost need. The cravings are real and they are intense.

I use to think that it’s as simple as practicing self control. Like, how someone would consider a pint of ice cream or how one would contemplate being unfaithful to a spouse. But… I was wrong. I just don’t know exactly what to make it in my life, but it is definitely beyond a doubt more to me than just a transient hobby.

mirror therapy

February 15, 2016

I have this big-ass mirror in my living room…. it’s just propped up on the biggest empty wall in my apartment. I knew that I wanted the mirror when I got my divorce, but turns out a small 1 bedroom apartment doesn’t accommodate such large items. But I couldn’t lose my ability to see my hair and shoes in the same frame – a girl needs these things. So it just sits there. As soon as I enter my apartment it greets me, sometimes before my dog does. I walk by it several times a day.

Some days this isn’t an easy thing to live with. But sometimes I’m pleasantly surprised by my reflection. I started to wonder if it was becoming detrimental to my self image recently. But one day I had a revelation…

I took off my clothes and sat right there in the middle of my living room in front of my big-ass mirror – as I affectionately call it.

At first I zoned in on my “problem areas”. Hate. hate. hate. I suck. I’m ugly. I can’t fix it. I’ve tried. Ain’t never gonna happen. My obsession is in my mid section. I have this huge inner tube that I swear is the first and only thing that anyone can possibly notice. If they somehow do get past that I’ve got this red birthmark on my right cheek. No, I am not over heated; no, I do not have Rosacea; no, (this one is my favorite) I did not get punched; and no, I am not effing blushing! Thank you!

I continued to sit. And look.

I don’t know how long it took, but I started to separate from the image in the mirror. I became a third party spectator. And you know what? Nothing was that bad. In fact, there were a lot of redeeming qualities there. I have great legs on anyone’s standards. Thick thighs… well, that doesn’t seem too un-sexy… I can totally see how they’d be preferable. That mid section…. it’s not THAT gigantic. It’s not… the only thing that exists in this image. And holy shit, I have great complexion. Every other inch of my face is porcelain-like… I mean… pale? Maybe – but not in a sick way. Could I use some sun? Always. But, the complexion is undeniably enviable.

I reached for my phone. I know, I know, In this day and age reaching for a camera is nothing special. But for me to even humor the idea of a naked picture?! And I don’t mean a pic you take to send to someone that asks or anything to do with sexuality in any form, but a pic just to admire yourself….? That’s different. Now, I’m not saying I took the pics, admired, saved, and shared. No, I didn’t even save them. I looked. I did admire. I liked what I saw. It wasn’t ugly. I didn’t stop at the terrible spots on my body and dwell. I simply looked and didn’t hate myself! I more than didn’t hate it. I was more than accepting of it. I liked it. It was a positive feeling. Not just neutral!

I wish I could say that I left that moment and I was cured of wherever I normally land on the body dysmorphic disorder spectrum… No, I left that moment and it didn’t take long for my insecurities to come rushing back. The self doubt, the self hate, the self dwelling on “bad” body parts. But…

Mirror Therapy. I’m making it a thing. I’m going to track the long term effects. I’m going to see if I can take those moments of clarity and see if I can’t transcend them to my every day ideas of myself for longer and longer periods of time.

distance, money, priorities

February 14, 2016

Valentine’s Day… I hope I’m eating my words tomorrow after I write this slight rant.

My bf doesn’t exactly have the extra funds to celebrate Valentine’s Day in the traditional sense. We won’t be going out. I won’t get presents, chocolates, or a card.

I’d never fault someone for doing the responsible thing with their money and not spending it in areas where it’s not reasonable. I’m a frugal (okay, fine! cheap) person and I can justify not spending money on it…

But…

I feel like…

I’m going to be very down about it tomorrow. Why would I indulge in a pity party over this? Why can’t I just get over it and be grateful for some quality time… First quality time, btw and worth noting, we’ve had in a full month. Not just quality time, but this is the first time I’ve seen him in a month. The lack of funds has seriously stunted him traveling in my direction with his gas guzzler.

But it feels like more than money. And it feels more than valentine’s day neglect.

Something is missing right now. And I can’t quite put my finger on it. I hate that I feel this way. I hate that I feel less complete than I did a few months back. Remember all the right words that could fix anything? Remember all the touching? Remember? Yeah, I barely can, too. I know a month is a long time. And I’m hoping that it’s just all that space we created that is making it feel this way. Maybe we just need more consistency to feel it again… Could a month be detrimental? Irreversible?

I need to feel wanted. Needed. I want to feel like a priority. I guess that’s it. I don’t feel like a priority. And I hate that because it felt soooooo good to finally connect with someone on this mutual level again.

But with all this being said… it could sincerely just be the lack of funds that is keeping us apart and keeping valentine’s day non-existent. In my experience tho, If a man wants something a man gets it or dies trying.

this week

February 14, 2016

I got into a wreck this week. I rear ended a Sante Fe in stop and go traffic. My car is smashed. My seatbelt and airbag did their thing tho. I’m only suffering from a stiff neck and a few bruises from the seatbelt.

What a weird moment. The impact. It’s so disorienting. I sat there for I don’t know how long. Trying to will the tears away. I couldn’t. They continued for 4 hours. I wasn’t crying because of pain or anger or sadness. I just couldn’t lock it down. I guess the shock of the moment just needed to spill out of me. I let it.

I’m happy no one was hurt. I’m happy the car in front of me appeared to have zero damage. I’m just not happy that my car was probably totaled. I was so enjoying that being paid off. My rental is nice enough. My insurance guy is a rockstar. I’m fighting the citation for following too closely thanks to my lawyer daddy (this was his idea, not mine – I know legally it was my fault). We’ll see if anything comes of that.

I guess I’m stressed. I’ve spent every night since either having nightmares or tossing and turning. No sleep for me tonight yet. My Valentine is snoozing away in the other room. My dog is snoozing less than a foot from me on the couch. And I’m kind of getting hungry… I have a candy bar in my purse that I won at a baby shower earlier today that I’d probably hate myself for sometime in the near future.

Besides the wreck I’ve had a really good couple of weeks. I got to spend time with my sister and her kids. I can’t decide if it makes me want kids now or want kids never. I’ve joined a new gym that I’ve been staying consistent with. I feel good about me and my body. Eating well consistently. Feels good. Now if I could just sleep…

Still

February 5, 2016

I love this. Self acceptance and self love is not a destination. It’s the daily journey. And it’s a fickle one.

Black coffee and cigarettes


Your body is yours now – your skin stretches
comfortably around its heights and its
depths, its hills and crevices, the scars of
old, the sights, the colours, the smells, all
that you have absorbed in your life –
the joy and the pain.
Your soul nestles within – it even
purrs at times.
You breathe.

But still,
there are moments.
When darkness beckons and your soul
trembles; when you feel jagged and hollow, like
a bottomless void, a continent with howling
winds and dark storms, sheer cliffs and
parched deserts, wild animals that
roam hungry, icy crevasses where
no light can reach.

Perhaps this is how it was at
the beginning, when you lay
shrouded in darkness, and raged
against the dying light, the
confined space, the relentless thump
of your mother’s heartbeat, an
echo of things to come.

There are moments.

I am sorry, you say, yet again.
I am sorry for my darkness…

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kink ties

February 4, 2016

Quite often I get the, what I call, Cold Call Add on Fetlife. This is when you get a random person requesting to be friends that you have neither a) met in real life or b) exchanged any form of communication with. I typically ignore all these. They just sit there in pending status.

Last weekend I went to a party and met several fellow kinksters. I promptly added all of them… because that’s how it works. You meet people. You like people. You stay connected with people. Pretty average in my opinion.

After adding these gals (and one guy) I noticed for the first time that the people I have in friendship limbo are mutual friends of my new friends. So, on a whim, I hit accept. I accepted 3 friend reqests right then and there for no other reason than having friends in common. In any other mood I probably wouldn’t have acted so impulsively. I’m not an impulsive person. But the deed was done and that was that. Not really that big of a deal in and of itself, in my opinion.

LESS THAN AN HOUR LATER I get a message from a panman… “Heard you were packing on the Doms.” Huh? Dom packing? Is that a thing? Is that even desirable???? I didn’t realize that, yes, I indeed added 3 dom types. I barely recognized the fact that they were all male. I didn’t even go check out their profiles. I just impulsively hit accept.

Poor panman. I gave him an anxiety attack because some junior high kid decided to go tattle on me. SERIOUSLY? I didn’t even realize I was doing something tattle worthy. Not to mention, apparently I’m marked as panman’s. That part doens’t bother me. The fact that some little hater out there ran to him to alert him is my issue. I know how he feels about me. And if I was still apart of the community and single I’d be all about some panman. And I definitely understand the claim he (implicitly or explicitly – doesn’t matter in this particular rant) has on me. I just got a really bad taste in my mouth from the whole thing.

I’m glad panman approached me directly about it. I am glad he trusts me enough to believe me. Wonder who else I pissed off by doing so? Wonder who else’s view of me I tarnished by doing that. But I guess their assumptions are a reflections of their character, not mine.

Since I’ve “gone vanilla” with Andy, I question why I’m still on the site anyway. I don’t want to lose those connections is really the only argument I have. And it’s not even a good one. Because why keep this kink world on a string if I also hope to live happily ever after with Andy?

his b-day wish and my pedestal

February 1, 2016

Panman has expressed a birthday wish to me. A plea really….

He wants to paint my canvas. He wants to bruise me. He wants to use his new toys on me.

Me.

Aside from wishing someone would beat me and leave me so bad off I’m marked for a week, I would love to give him what he wants for his birthday. He’s so sweet to me. He treats me like a princess. And I don’t know that I’ve known this treatment from anyone else at quite the level he offers it.

It comes from somewhere extremely deep. From his DNA. He does it effortlessly. It’s like, the things he does for me aren’t sacrifices. Usually when you treat people well, or if you are trying to make someone else happy you pull that from a place of sacrifice. You decide the sacrifice is worth it. But… it’s not a sacrifice for him. It’s not costing him anything. I don’t know how to explain it except that he truly makes me believe his only aim is to make me happy. And my happiness equals his happiness. Period. End of story. No strings.

I’ve had guys say this. “If you’re happy, I’m happy.” I’ve had parents say this. But always always they have proved otherwise or they have shown sacrifice. And there is NOTHING wrong with making sacrifices for other’s happiness. It’s a trait that good people possess. We do this at least a few times daily without even realizing it. And I’ve had guys willing to sacrifice a SHIT TON to make me happy. But my point is… there’s no sacrifice from panman.

I’m not forgetting about Andy here. I’m not. I’m not jumping in bed with panman. I’m not ending things with Andy. Andy is still very much in the picture. I’d have to ask Andy about letting panman scene me. I’m not sure I’m ready for that conversation yet. I have a few months to figure that one out tho.

I just needed to say it. I feel like I’m using panman just being around him. But I never ask for anything. And in his opinion I shouldn’t have to ask. I want to pull myself off the pedestal in his brain where I sit. I’m too clumsy to be sitting that high.