My dreams, they aren't as empty

Maybe this post should be name, "If there is anything good about me". Either way. I don't feel that I can make grown up decisions. Well, really one grown up decision. What's the lesson here? That I can't play nineteen any longer?

I have not closely tracked my ovulation, but it felt like my knight might have made it home in time. Now I know that was not the case. I know for a very obvious reason. What makes it worse is that I woke up thinking that I don't want another baby. I love my life. I am excited about my life. I have an amazing and cool husband who gets my rocks off and is building me a massive high bed (think pool table); two awesome kids; and celebrity lust addiction. My life is moving ahead.

I don't understand why this thing had to happen. The miscarriage thing. Half the month I feel like this baby idea is crazy, and half the month I obsessively take pregnancy tests. My conscience is definitely corrupt. It can't last this way forever. I will run out of thyroid drugs and no one will prescribe for me what I am doing with them.

The problem is that now I can't make the decision not to keep trying. At the same time, my knight cannot make that decision without risking my unconsciously holding it against him. I had moved past any and all anger I felt about the vasectomy before this happen. The miscarriage. Why does this shadow my life? My miracle baby that is never to be. My anti-miracle.

Howl at your beauty, like a dog in heat.

Series of circumstances lead to me being ready to put photos on this blog. Well, possibly only one photo. Just know that I own a copy of a very easy and well made tights pattern. Enter the most hypnotizing red, white, and black stretch jersey. Add to the recipe meeting a very artistic and talented photographer who wants some sewing work. How could a blog photo NOT happen?!

My Knight is a better person than I am. I knew that when I met him, and despite being a stronger woman now than I was then, it is still true. When he called from the hotel last night, I told him all about my photography exchange plans and the rendezvous to discuss both projects--photo shoot and sewing. This good man, my Knight, who knows I chat about sexuality with all my girl friends (and even long time male friends), had a pang of jealousy that I did so with this male photographer. He was really rather sweet about it and thinks he might want to be there for the shoot.

While I do enjoy the attention I get from all the young men who like my red mohawk, I could never desire anyone other than my Knight. I may have the ego of a nineteen year old, but at thirty-two, I know there is no one so good as my Knight who would actually want ALL of me. This good man, the best man I have ever met, has seen me in every low state and continues to worship at the alter of my femininity and desire. What spoiled housewife could ask for more?

Somebody's screaming, staring at the ceiling

And finally it is me, again! I have been wanting to post this for days now, but trying to figure out ways to have more sex without the kids noticing has distracted me. My Knight left again this morning. This means there will be no pink line this month. At least there are good times. Maybe I can live the rest of my life without a pink line, if it is full of good times. Still, eliminating, again, the chance of a pink line feels wrong.

Revisiting my last post--I find I cannot be upset with Mr. White. Although I know that it takes two to make a marriage happy, I also know that you can't make someone stay in a marriage when they refuse to do so. My image of Mr. White has him a an old fashioned wild boy. Old fashioned, in that he does not want to split with the women who leave him. He wants to figure out a solution. I married an old fashioned man. He's not wild, but probably that's why he married me. The thing is, I am not actually wild. For him, it is wild enough that I have vibrant red hair, a round ass, and a mohawk. Bonus is that I want to fuck him all the time--at least when my cycle throws up the libido hormones.

It has been such a good time the last few days. Months without having this much fun together. My knight left this morning before dawn and I woke in a bed empty of any full grown man. I woke alone and cried. To be so happy for a few days and have it ripped away. Life sure has been nice to me, but there is a price.

So think of something new

Just to show how out of popular culture I am, I just found out that Mr. White is splitting from his wife as of June. This adds a new level to my lonely moping.

Obviously it is none of my business. Cursed with a family sized level of compassion, I can understand how easily things can fall apart for good people. I also understand that two people have to work to make a marriage happy for it to be.

But Fuck it! Sometimes somebody has to just come out and say, "Let's find what the fuck is going to make us happy together and do that!" Love bubbles fade away if you don't feed them.

At a Halloween party with mostly single parents as guests, I met a lovely artist. I am actually able to have good conversations about single parenting--spending about 40% of the year as a stay-at-home single parent. This artist said wasn't it lucky my Knight and I had so much time apart so that we would stay passionate for each other. Let me tell you now that I kept my mouth shut when she said that. That is the biggest load of bullshit I ever heard.

Yes, it is good to have your own interests. When you are apart for long stretches, all you have is your own interests. Phones and video conferences and instant messaging does not make a man who can hold you while you cry over a stressful event of the day. An event, most likely, that you will be over by tomorrow, and certainly by the next time you see the man that should be holding you. Basically, days, weeks, months, apart just leads to feeling separate. It is too easy to just get on with life and focus on being happy. That is human nature. Except maybe for those who are actually 19 years old.

When faced with the obstacles of a busy life and too much time apart, it takes an effort to make sure you keep your mate alive inside you every minute of every day. To put a 19 year old effort into maintaining passion. Also, you have to understand how hormones play a role in passion and feed on that. You need to make the commitment that staying together is more important than being happy while you are apart.

We've lost this type of commitment in our society. At least sometimes it feels so. We don't teach marriage or mate selection to our children.

So I wish the best for everyone. I wish for everyone to learn the lessons they need to in time to make use of them. I wish for second, and third and fourth, chances to make happiness. I wish for everyone the painful compassion that leads to making others happy.

19 or 32, saddened either way


(post script: The compassion I feel is honest. That doesn't mean I don't have an overly healthy sense of self worth. I am nothing if not self aware. If I didn't have such a big ego, I would have an inferiority complex being married to a man who is actually a better person than I am. As it is, I am brazen enough to be a good partner.)

I look like a woman

Been a couple months since my last post. Can't say playing around with my thyroid meds has been great. What I want now is to be happy again. Focusing on a baby is not making that happen, but neither is eliminating the possibility. Trying to recreate our lust zone while leaving the baby option open. All while my night is spending the majority of fall on the road. Leads me to a night intoxicated and watching Black Pool Lights followed by It Might Get Loud. I may need to blend up another margarita.

After a couple months of feeling the dud, I am really missing my knight tonight. I want him to touch me. I want to touch him. Is it just me, or is there a certain song about fellatio? Sex is a major part of who I am. When it is cut off, I do not feel as strongly in any emotion. Sure, I am not as sad; but then I am not as happy or as in love. Without the desire, I just love. I just respect. The need makes me feel like a full person and I love Him. I am in love with my knight.

It's still a choice. I have to choose to feel the need. I have to focus on it. After two months without the ability to need, I crave it. I crave Him. I use Mr. White to focus the need. I don't want anyone to touch me, but my knight. Not even our beautiful children. What I have with their Papa is proof that there is a God.

So, on that note, I leave you with a song that reminds me of going down on that knight. I hope that Mrs. White gives her husband what he needs in that arena. I plan to give my knight his.

but I can learn

Feeling very 30s lately. Switching thyroid medication disrupted my raging libido. I dried up physically and hormonally. Feels like things are coming back from that now. Feels so slow. A large part of our fun and wild sex life was in my head. Sure, ovulation hormones helped, but I would be all psyched up for great sex. The reset button was hit. I hope it was all for something good. So easy to be excited about a pregnancy (ugh) when in a passionate love nest.

Something always got in the way.

So I am alone in my bedroom. Completely alone, which is not usual with two not-so-small anymore kids in the house. Not so small any more and hopefully a new one on the way soon.

My knight and I were cold for several weeks recently. Not cold in a physical way, oh no. Afraid to talk to each other. I only wanted to talk about one thing and he specifically did not want to talk about that. Then the dam broke, as they usually do.

Now he's away and I'm not drinking. Not. I am watching My So Called Life. During the last few weeks, besides the chill on conversation, there was another chemical pregnancy. I'm having to be thirty-something for awhile. Waiting for blood test results in order to start finding an endocrinologist that I can stand for more than two visits. My knight has a loaded gun and my body can't hold the shot.

But this post is really supposed to be about My So Called Life. I was fifteen in 1994. Fifteen with an alcoholic father who was finally not living with us and a mother who was either dealing blackjack or playing poker. I WAS the target audience. We've started watching episodes together. I want my knight to watch the whole series. He will be the father of a teenage girl sooner than we are ready, and he has absolutely no idea what teenage girls are like. Usually we watch two episodes with a really exciting intermission.

And still I cry. Those characters are me. Not any one of them, but all three. I am Angela AND Rickie AND definitely Rayanne. I was second-guessed, and didn't fit in anywhere while trying to take care of everyone else, and engaged in risky behavior to cover emotional problems. So tonight I cried. Especially that the end of the episode where Jordan finally takes Angela's hand to show everyone they are together.

The dam broke and we fought. And I cried. And then we got past fighting. Everything I may have ever said over the last three years about regretting our decision for vasectomy had to come back--this time in full color. My knight selectively remembers only the good times. He does not remember how sick and scared and not alive, not capable of making life changing decisions, I was. How much he had to take care of all of us. When we had hashed all the emotions, and he really had some kind of at least water colored in picture. (A part of me really, really wants to put "like" in that sentence.) At the end he holds me and says that he doesn't fully understand the baby thing, but he knows that babies are my thing and knew that when we got together. He looks at me as though he is happy to show the world that we are together.

The next night he jokes about minivans and other obscure cars. Last night he starts the discussion about planning his August trip to Seattle and feel comfortable saying THE word. Ovulation. Tonight I'm alone.

I miss my Lover. My Knight, my Lover who warms my heart and wants to hold my hand in front of the world.

Post script: So only one allusion to sex in this post. Sorry about that. I'll try to keep it on topic, especially lots of posts if we get to try new experiences during pregnancy. Any readers out there should be warned that the balance of emotion and sex will likely be shifted for awhile.

I lay a road for your mind.

So his mind can go go go go. And God has laid a road for my mind. My knight's body has rebuilt a road for him. Our lives have suddenly changed. New opportunities. New things to worry about. A new test for our developed sexual keenness for each other.

I may or may not be currently pregnant, but if I always get the things I want, this would be it. Number 3. Another roller-coaster of hormones. Another chance at sublime birth. A minivan. That's something that never seemed like a good idea, until today.

We found out about the "recanalization" via a positive pregnancy test and then a miscarriage the next day. Too many emotions in too short a time. Too many surprises for my knight to process. His immediate feelings were of a failed surgery, a problem to be fixed. My immediate feelings were a lost miracle and an opening of options.

Not sure how much he has thought about it since then. He says that this week is for thinking about. This week is the week after I have ovulated again, and oh boy did we enjoy a week of intensity. I may be building a house inside as I write this. I was sure motivated to make sure my knight came inside me as often as possible. Generally I enjoy getting him off, but perhaps there was an extra boost in interest.

At least he went into it knowing. Now my heart is in a vault, waiting. Waiting to know. Not drinking. Not drinking too much caffeine either. Waiting. I am bad at waiting. Is every little sign just normal pms or pregnancy?

And I'm hoping. Hoping we will get pregnant. Hoping if we do, that our sexual experience will be better around this time. At least this time my knight is skilled in oral sex. And I am not willing to have bad sex just for him. He can have bad sex by himself. I want to come out of a third pregnancy more in love and lust with my knight than ever. It's a short time during a long marriage. My hope is for a new life without the burden of resentment.

She cried More, More, More

I'm going to have to bore you with some sexuality related social frustration. So some politician was sexting with other women behind his wife's back while she was off being internationally politically influential. A friend posted an article about this, and I made a comment that it as pretty sad they are such an ill-fitting couple. He obviously needs someone who can spend all day sending him sexy messages and generally boosting his ego. His wife needs someone who is not involved in politics and generally more discreet than this guy seems to be. That these two ended up married just goes to show how far our society is from being honest with ourselves and each other when discussing relationships.

Apparently suggesting that a certain man might benefit from a woman who wants the role of traditional wife is offensive. It seems to be popular to to make any indiscretion equal in severity than any other. That your relationship guidelines must be the same guidelines as every public figure. That a husband sexting someone other than his wife is sexual harassment, even if the other woman willingly participated. When did infidelity become the same as harassment? When did every issue of infidelity mean that the man is basically evil? And why?

Although it is an over-simplification, if you give a man what he needs, he won't go looking for it somewhere else. Not always true, and all women can provide the needs for all men. Some things can not be repressed, but should be embraced inside a healthy loving relationship. Being married to a woman and having kids is not suddenly going to turn a gay man strait. In the same way, marrying a powerful woman who is often out of town is not going to take away one man's need to be constantly told how sexy he is. No cheating is the same as any other. Blame doesn't attach, but neither should unfeeling judgment.

Being placed as I am, I come by many stories. Stories of infidelity. Stories of alternative rules for fidelity. Stories of growth and development--both kept happily inside a relationship and bringing relationships to an end. As far as I'm concerned, no blame attaches. What's the point of blame? It doesn't make anyone happy and doesn't bring about a mutually beneficial resolution. Probably personal stories come to me because I don't get worked up by them.

I wonder if these women that are so disturbed by male sexuality would have a problem with this blog. Certainly this blog could be considered trying to sext with the world. I have sex. I write about sucking cock. I admit to having fantasies about a celebrity. I admit to wanting to stir up desire. I also call myself a housewife and am proud of this choice. I'm turned on by giving my knight what he needs. I'm not offended that your choices are different. That you look for something else in a relationship. If my choices make you "throw up a little bit in my mouth", then you can Kiss My Ass. After you've rinsed your mouth out, of course.

Blame me for robbing Peter

Is healthy sex a contraption? Then I guess the problem is loneliness?
I've always felt like a bad person with good intentions. The road to Hell is paved with good intentions. I've at least shed the guilt from being selfish by the truth of my love. I love my husband. I really love him. My knight.

Recently we endured a frustrating house guest situation. I am selfish. I expect house guests to help. I add up the cost of water for every bath they take. I am not a good person. I only have good intentions.

There can't be two good people in one couple. One person has to accept the good intentions of the other without judgment of past. I went to see XMen by myself last Friday. Despite drinking a couple strait vodkas before heading into the theatre, I was sober by the end. (Call me spoiled by Alamo Drafthouse) I came out strutting. What is it about being different that makes me feel mutant? What is it about an XMen movie that makes me feel proud to be mutant? To feel wrong? I don't know. But I felt strongly that added to the cockiness I always felt was self assurance.

The difference between just cockiness and cockiness + self assurance: In the past I would strut wearing tight, revealing clothing feeling pretty sure that men watched me because I knew I was good. Now I strut because. If men are watching me, I may notice and I may not. If I do notice, it is obviously because I am everything. If, by some absurdity, someone is watching me NOT in awe, they are in awe in my mind. In my mind, my strut draws all attraction. Then I spill all that attraction onto my knight. Maybe not needing another outlet creates the self assurance. Who cares?

After my recent growth in core strength, and being fully satisfied in one position, I wanted to try my skills in another. My knight has fucked me kneeling against a wall many times. Could I free-kneel and make him come? Could I take the thrust without support? The answer is yes. I can. It was good.

Is feeling this way a reaction to years of heartbreak? Making sense of it all takes a whole lot of concentration. I do love. So Much. Is that the cause of this sex drive, or just to prove myself better. Either way, we are happy, even if it takes me strutting a bit and nights alone. Even if my good intentions pave my road to Hell. If I can inspire healthy married sex lives for my friends and children, my life has meaning. Whatever the cause, the effect can be good.

I know the right thing for me to do.

Always I think I don't need White Stripes. I don't need Mr. White, right? It ends up not working out that way. Perhaps I was too much about the Stripes all the time. Listening to the Dead Weather in my car. Last night I had a choice. I could plug into Discworld and go to sleep, or sharpen the pain of separation and listen to JW. You know who won.

So I woke up hungover and cleaned the kitchen. What a lame way to live, but what can I do? To know is to want. And to want is to make the want more intense. I could ignore it. Ignore the thoughts. But to what end? I'm madly in love with the best husband ever. I want to ride him. I want him to climb on and fuck me. I want to hold him in my mouth, and be sitting in front of him on a chair. If I push that aside so that I can think rationally, what will I get. I have to martyr my emotions to be this wife.

Sometimes I feel I drink too much while my knight is away. I don't do it to forget. I drink to sharpen the edge of desire. I drink to make the cut into my body and soul clean, the blood fresh, the heal easy. I open wide for my knight to heal me when he comes home. I am saved from the blade.

Ain't No Beauty Queens in This Locality

On the theme of magical voice. There is something about Mr. White's voice that reaches somewhere inside me and makes me feel good about myself.

Thinking all the time lately of what it means to be "in love". I am it. Whatever it means. Also what "sexy" means. What is sexy? A voice? Sure. But the older I get, what it boils down to, what is truly sexy is that man lying next to me and wanting me. And why does he want me? Because I am lying there next to him and wanting him. That's it. That's sexy. And sex is a gift to create and maintain the bond of being "in love". I always love my knight. He's always the only man I trust with my full self. "In love" is a combination of that and sex--sexual attraction, sexual tension, sexual satisfaction.

To be this much in love with my knight at a point in our marriage where many are struggling just to keep talking to each other. It's a real gift. A gift we've worked at? A reward, maybe?

I don't know a song with more true lyrics than that one by Brian May. Maybe it's the millennium old instinct to find a mate who is sturdy. Sturdy enough to survive cold winters and bear children. Maybe it is just the heterosexual masculinity in the song. That raw masculinity that will see every blue-eyed floozy all the way. But life moves on. We all get old and creaky. I sometimes need my knight to pull my legs strait again after leaving me. And what does an old man want? A nice big girl that is comfortable and welcoming. Something easy to find and easy to hold onto. Someone who is sturdy and has borne his children. Something primeval. Instinctual. Someone who's there and wants you. None of us are pretty or cool anymore.

My knight started out loving ass. Good thing. Even before pregnancy--before I lost my 25" waist--I had a big ass. Now I'm just thick. Not overweight, just thick. Solid. Able to keep a whole family warm on winter nights. I sometimes jog and have a great lung capacity and general good health. The primeval sturdy woman. I am happy to be that for my knight. To be comfortable and welcoming.

Back to voices. Every song that Mr. White covers sounds better than the original. Is it his voice. Does his voice feel more true inside me than most singers? Yes. I would love to hear him sing that True song by Mr. May. A True voice for a True song. Only thing better is feeling True on the inside and True in sharing life. Only thing better is to give it all I've got.

Our Love is Love

I'm never going to be cool enough to see surprise rock shows. I avoid crowded places. I live far out of town. If anything, SXSW is a reason to avoid town at all costs :) Thanks to the miracle of YouTube, that's alright. Not cool, but at least I get to hear that magical voice sing my heart.

Thoughts turning wheels around.

Drove to San Francisco to spend a week with my knight. Drove back. One week out of four is not enough time with him, even if another week and half is spent driving and in hotels. Healthy, I feel like a tornado. Little pieces of me flying off all the time. Spreading out. Becoming disoriented. My knight creates the right weather conditions for the funnel to stay together. Moving forward every day in one piece is so hard when we are apart. He is more than my lover.

For two weeks I am love sick for him. For his sex and for his company. I want to hold his hand and go on adventures with him; especially if those adventures end somewhere in the grass without my panties.

For two weeks I need him as a supportive partner. I need sex for most of those days because it's the only thing that really helps dampen the effects of clinical pms. There are some studies showing that hormone absorption from semen through the vagina is beneficial for a woman's mood. There is also the hormones released in my own brain. There is the loving way we are together. For these two weeks, I also just need him to be there. To hold me and help the kids. To put away clothes as I sit there and fold them, not getting out of bed.

For a few days in between I am a raging bubble of estrogen. The tornado is at the peak of destructive power. The risk of everything spinning apart is tipping the scales. When I have my knight to storm around, I stay together. His strongest impulse is to hold onto things. In many ways one of his best qualities. He holds on as the storm rages around.

The longer we are apart, he forgets what the storm feels like. His fantasies of me take an unreal turn. I don't forget what the calm feels like. I desire the calm from him all the time. To see the lighthouse when I'm lost. The longer we are apart the more I yearn to see the light. To rage into the shore and feel it close around me. It's not that I don't fantasize about the good times we could be having in our now jacked-up bed. (Raising our bed to pool table height is one of the best things I've done in recent months!) I do fantasize about his body every time I get up in bed. As thoughts spread apart, pieces flying loose all over the place, I fantasize about calm. The calm in a well formed eye. I wonder how long it will take 'til we're alone.

--31 year old constantly thankful of reaching a place in myself where I can be fully with my knight; with the help of Jack White--his music, his existence in this world.

How are you going to get that deep?

I thought I was over this blog. That I didn't need it anymore. But ugly feelings have a way of laying low and then bubbling up. Nothing like hormone surges to create bubbles. So I have embraced my innate sluttiness inside the safety of a loving marriage. Its the best place to be a slut, since usually you can get it when and how you need it. At least if you put some work into training your partner. But here I am feeling like a slut again and my knight is not around to fuck me back into a good person.

The last strong estrogen surge was between Christmas and New Years. We spent all day playing "Hide from the Kids". That was fun and exciting. Nothing but fond memories from that day. Giggles and orgasms and feeling sore all the next day. And my knight is wonderfully intact, so it takes A LOT to make me sore. I felt a little neglectant of my kids, but generally like a good and healthy wife.

I need all of him to help me be a better person. During an estrogen surge, though, I just need his cock. I need to suck it. I need it thrusting in me. I need to be fulfilled as a slut so that I can remember that I am a wife now. The career I always wanted and endeavored to reach. An essential part of who I am. I am WIFE. I am MOTHER. I am SLUT.

Raconteurs

I agree whole heartedly with JW. A band needs a woman. Except for a few days per month. Then bring on all the testosterone you can muster. Oh, Lord. I don't think I ovulated last month. Not surprising. I used to go months without ovulating. One month doesn't scare me. I feel the ovulation now. My estrogen levels are through the roof. Probably a dangerous idea, but I added alcohol to estrogen. Oh, I want it. Mostly from my knight, but that at this this level of intoxication and ovulation, I would take Jack White; Jack Lawrence or Patrick Keeler as second choice; Brenden Benson only if I got a little bit more drunk. Luckily for my marriage, The Raconteurs are not going to show up at our house tonight :) Sadly, neither is my knight. Next week I am driving halfway across this country to be with him. Him being my knight. It's going to be easier needing him. Easier to reach full orgasm when I experience full ovulation. I only hope our hotel bed is as tall as a pool table like our bed at home. I want to feel, enjoy and relax. I am old enough.

Back is so broken.

Haven't posted here in a while. Better things to do, no doubt, than write about sex. Until a few months ago I never realized how much guilt I was carrying around. And how much that was standing in the way of enjoying sex again. This blog has helped me shed that guilt and embrace my marriage with both legs. My thoughts may have been stolen by the boys. I've brought them back to me. Been neglecting Mr. White the last few weeks. Not a good idea. Only two more nights with my lover before he leaves for a month. Can't be wasted.

Something else kept me from blogging. Watching the world. I'm in the right place at the wrong time. People seem so lazy about making their own passion. What happened to get married first, fall in love later? If this blog means anything, its that we can all make our own passion. We can marry the right person to share a life with, and create passion within that partnership. And a better passion. Perhaps my back being broken is what saved me. I knew that great sex alone meant nothing. Meant an empty bank account or a morning alone. I could feel the real love when it came. The acceptance. Then, the sex meant nothing to me. That changed. Sex means a lot. We made it ourselves. Did it take time and effort? Of course! It even took fantasizing about another man. Isn't that the role of an artist? To make life more real and bring people together? Stuck in this box together, we get creative. My only hope is that more people know this. People realize this anew. We can't be the only couple helped by Jack White.