High In Love

No, literally speaking.  I don't partake in mind altering activities too often but I did this weekend.  I had forgotten how, well, clear headed I feel when I'm high.  Seriously, clear headed.  Everything makes perfect sense and I make total sense when I express myself. 

We kissed for what seemed like hours.  I was totally in the moment.  It felt amazing and beautiful and exactly like what we should be doing when we're together.  I never wanted it to end, but then I realized that we had been kissing for what seemed like hours and everyone around us (which was probably nobody) must have thought we were the most boring couple at the party...and then I just cracked up laughing!

We laughed a lot that night.  As it should be.   HE was very charming, as HE always is however, HE was not mad at me, or guarded.  It was lovely.  HE was loving.  HE opened up to me and told me things that HE used to tell me.  I felt very close to him...

I was high in love and now I float around thinking of our amazing time together.

Writing

I have nothing to say really.  I feel so much that I am paralyzed where I stand.  I am stuck inside my head and can't seem to move on.  My zest for life is non existent at this moment.  And HE acts as if life is grand.

Letting It Go

HE says I choose unhappiness more than I choose happiness.  I disagree, but when I review my thoughts I can't help but wonder if HE's right.

Take today, for instance.  I review my schedule for the week and all that I have to accomplish. I am already thinking of a specific date that we could have this week because of something I read about in the paper.  I don't know if HE's already busy but then, my mind wanders through one of a few scenarios: 

a) Two weeks ago when HE was seen clicking glasses of beer with a woman, that I have met, that I had warned him was interested in him, which HE dismissed but told me HE'd give me a head's up before meeting her out, which HE didn't, and on top of all of that, had rejected my invitation to meet me for happy hour that same evening because HE had "too much laundry and chores" and was "too tired".  Fucking liar!

b) Multiple times when HE meets a woman, who I've never heard of, to fuck because her dear poor husband, who she is so in love with, has a heart problem so I guess HE is just there to save her from being a little pent up, oh, and it's fun and she is his friend....Fuck liar and cheater!

c) Who knows how often, there is a woman, there's always a woman waiting in the wings, to be swooned by him, who knows if for friendship or a love/lust affair.....Goddammit I am now just over the top pissed and hurt...

And all the while, I can't figure out why we've spent the last 11 years discussing honesty and "living life as you want to live it".  To me, it feels like HE just wanted me to live my life the way HE wanted me to live it meanwhile HE wanted to live his life like HE always has. 

I am a liar and a cheater as well.  I am not judging him for being those things.  But, I did think I was so special that HE would actually not cheat, or lie to me just to fuck someone else, who, HE claims HE wants nothing to do with except to spend a few hours every once in a while.  But the lies just keep on piling up.  And the bullshit is just spilling over the edges.  So, then, there becomes this whole stress and anxiety in the beginning of the week that manifests all week until I see him again, and he smiles and me and tells me he loves me and he's happy to see me.  And then I just go off and make the whole weekend a shitstorm of emotional rantings. 

So, do I overthink stuff?  Hmmm maybe...but I am still angry, and hurt and fearful that I will always be the cuckhold in the relationship.  I have made so many lifestyle alterations, because I wanted to, but because I thought that we had the same goals in mind. 

I will eventually let it go....but in the meantime, I wonder how much more I can take. 

You can only control yourself.
See the beauty.
Feel the love.
Give love and light to those you care for.
Let go.

Today's mantra for me.

Eat Pray Love

Eat Pray Love  As cheesy as it sounds, I've been missing the point.  Just saw the movie, shed some tears, thought a lot about life and why I worry too much.  I have the eating part down.  While I don't believe in the traditional notion of praying, I do believe my spirituality has not been fed in a very long time.  And, as for the love part, well, I do love...but do I love myself more than I love pain, chaos, anger, and others? 

"Send him love and light when you think of him and when you're done, let it go," he said.  "Forgive yourself," he told her.  "Just let it be," he said. 

Watch the trailer and good luck on your journey.

Today

I am dead dog tired and overall exhausted from a long weekend of emotional turmoil.  I think the well is dry now.....Life is too short and too sweet to worry about someone else's shit.

HE struggles with independence and partnership.  I struggle with fear and acceptance.  Together we make the perfect pair.

Nothing Matters

Nothing matters when he holds me in his arms.  I feel his love for me and all the problems of my day disappear.

Wounds

I remember so many scrapes on my knees as a child. I still have the scars though they have faded.  Tripping over the tree roots on the playground while playing chase was usually the cause.  The above the knee dresses I wore as a school requirement was no barrier between adolescent skin and dirty uneven ground.  And I cried almost every time.  The first bath was so painful as my mother would submerge the wound in hot water until she could lightly wash it with soap.  Then sleeping under the cotton sheets on sticky Florida nights would sometimes cause the two to bond into one.  But after a few days, I could run again on the playground and wait for the next one to tag me.  After a few weeks, I didn't remember the incident in detail but witnessed the evidence of fresh skin regenerating as the scab turned to a black brown bark on my limb shrinking until it finally fell off.  After a few months, my skin was smooth once again and only a little brown stain of a scar remained.

Maybe love is like that.  Maybe love is your skin and the hurt is the wound.  Maybe over time, you forget your tears, the pain, the trouble walking and sleeping, and maybe one day you wake up and barely remember the injury.  And maybe all you see is the small discoloration that still remains but see that love does regenerate over and over again, even on top of old wounds, until you die. 

Hotel People

Tommy was her sugar daddy and along with her girlfriend, the three met us at the door.  She kept asking him if it was ok to touch my breasts as her fingers glided across the bare part that was showing.  "I say who, I say when, I say how much," (quote from Pretty Woman) was all I could think about as I wondered why she wasn't asking my permission about my own body.  "This is not like the usual parties we have," she judged wearing a full smile.  We ran into her about every third time around.  As usual, I was one of the most dressed women there.

Everyone congregated in the kitchen.  Food and drink bring people together and by the way the ladies were kissing and touching each other, the hors'devours must have been excellent! The stripper pole was empty and the dj played reggeton while some low pointed lights swirled about the room. 

From room to low lighted room there was action.  More stunt fucking than sensuality.  The crowd was festive and diverse.  The small American Indian man, with beautiful long, black hair inserted his extra large penis in any mouth or hand he could.  He complemented everyone and was never rejected.  The tall, lanky blonde with the smoker's voice proudly displayed her tanned A cups through the cut outs in the top of her rather short, black dress.  She was seen later taking it very hard while riding on top of an also very skinny man.

The house was in a suburban neighborhood but I imagine it is only used for events like this.  The furniture was sparse and the sheets were most likely disposable.  We watched them all, the lady with her vibrator, the clusters of "odd couples".  Everyone was amused and amusing.  The pretty girl never came out of her dress and was a bit stand-offish.  "Was she made to be there, a worker?" we commented.  A few looked like pros.

The closet was my favorite spot, but then again, isn't that the perfect place for all my dark thoughts!  I was looking for the lock on the door when HE told me it was actually being used for the partygoers' items.  "Oh," I replied disappointed.

We bumped into Tommy and his girlfriends when he told us that we were the "hotel people".  He said that there are many swingers.  They "come and go" he said.  They have problems and "ooopsies" but the hotel people, they are rare.  They come in to watch, observe, whet their appetites.  "You are the aphrodisiacs to the swingers," he said.   He went on to say that we never get into any tough situations, that we are the ones that "last".  Then we go home to fuck each other, the ones we really want to fuck.

So, the hotel people left the party at the crack of dawn and made sweet love to each other until the sun came up.

Knock, Knock, Knockin' on Heaven's Door

I thought I'd be a back door virgin forever. The last two times though, have been incredible. HE eases his extra stiff cock inside my ass as if we were porn stars. I feel naughty and sexy and lusty that HE takes me that way and that I ache for it sometimes. After a few sessions of ass play last night, my pussy ached this morning for a good slamming of which HE was happy to provide.

Orders

HE orders dinner for me perhaps to woo me.
HE suggests what to drink, what we can share, where to go after.
HE tells the waiter that we don't need an extra plate, that we will share on the same plate.
HE looks into my eyes...they are the same color as his.
HE opens the door and allows me to pass through first because I'm a lady.
HE holds my hand because HE wants my fingers to be laced with his.
HE walks on the street side of the sidewalk because his grandmother taught him that.
HE opens my car door because HE is chivalrous at heart.
HE plays with my hair because HE likes the texture.
HE takes my clothes off and relishes all that HE sees, one layer at a time.
HE takes me exactly how HE wants me.
HE orders me on top because that's what HE wants.
"Yes sir," I think and then give him everything HE desires. 

Am I A Cowgirl?

"Do you think you're a cowgirl?" HE asked after I'd forwarded the article from Mistress Matisse's Journal. I wanted to spit venom and shout, "How could I be labeled a cowgirl when all along you never admitted that you were polyamorous you cheating fuck!" Oh but how wrong that would have been.

"Are you polyamorous?" I asked adding that it would be HE who would have to decide whether or not I was trying with all my might to convert him to monogamy as the article defined.

"I am non-manogamous, as I've always said," HE reminds me. The difference, HE goes on to explain is that HE is in love with me and only wants to fuck others, occasionally, for fun...not to have relationships or find love elsewhere.

"I don't know what I am at this point," I say. How can I proclaim to be monogamous when I've cheated on every man I've dated for over six months? I love men. I just don't know how I feel about the whole open relationship topic. Part of me wants desperately to try it so that I can see it's no big deal and move on with things. Part of me fears that even trying it will lead to unhappiness and the eventual demise of our relationship so I don't want to fuck with that. Be careful what you ask for, and all of that...

We agreed that we wanted each other for partners and no one else. We agreed that love had landed and was here to stay, between us. We agreed that sex with others is just for the adventure of it all.

While it would be wonderful to control the world, it would also be a very boring and unfulfilling reality. I don't want to convert him to be anything. I just want him for who HE is; I want him to love me like only HE can, and honor me and bring excitement to our life together. And I want to live a full life and have him to share it all with. Simple.

Sunday Kind of Love

His torso spooned mine with legs entwined and Egyptian cotton tangled in-between. Heat still radiating from moments earlier, we were motionless again except for his finger that continued caressing my skin.