By the time that I get that old.

Lying in bed a few nights ago, with my knight holding my breasts after coming on my belly, I felt so safe. So much in love. So amazingly in love and at peace. So peacefully in love that sometimes I fear it can't last forever. How did I get here? Somebody sure is watching out for me.

I think often of how I wound up here. And even more often, how I can help my kids wind up in a place like this without all the pain in between. I think about them becoming teenagers. I know what I would wish for them. I also know that it isn't my life to live again. It's their lives. They are already five hundred thousand times more amazing than I was.

Then I think of the steps that I took to the dark place. And no matter what I say, remember that I know fully they were MY steps. I was in charge and no one else was at all responsible for anything I've ever done.

So, we talk about my abusive alcoholic father. Perhaps mention that I probably (okay, very fucking likely) have the so called "slut gene". I certainly have all the other behavior traits linked the that gene variant.

Then I think about the first 3 boys I had sex with. Well, the first two boys and one man.

#1 Number One. I wanted it and so did he. Don't think I actually loved him. I wanted him. I wanted to feel something, more like. I was seventeen and he was eighteen and I expected too much of him. That is what I remember looking back from this age. What I expected from him was ridiculous. It was totally unreasonable. I had this idea at the time that he was WAY experienced. Do I really know that? Did I really know? No. Anyway, I was a virgin, he is large in girth and didn't know much about lubrication. He couldn't get all the way in. I was so frustrated. So resentful for years after I learned about lube. I know now how crazy that was. How I let my expectations get the better of me in that situation.

#2 Poor Number Two. That is not kind. I was not kind in this relationship. I sought someone who would give me attention that I felt #1 had not provided. A couple years ago he contacted me, and told me that his friends had warned him against me. Warned him that I was using him, although they did not know the real reason why.

Anyway, I didn't get was I was seeking from him either. He was so small, I could not feel him inside me at all. I treated him worse after our first sexual encounter. I was frustrated by his ability to come when I got nothing. Nothing. I couldn't respect him. That sounds totally bitchy, but it's the truth. I couldn't respect him after I knew how tiny his cock is. I'm a bitch.

#3 Number Three I was in love. I was in love with a man who was not capable of feeling love. He was a great lover. I finally got the sexual release I was looking for. He was older than me. I met him first through a friend while in highschool, but our sexual relationship started a little more than a year after #1.

Number 3 was also very large in girth. Knew all about lubricants, though. It was the first time with him when I discovered I was allergic to spermicide. With him was the only time in my life I took LSD. So many things I did with him--including being homeless in Chicago after he ran through my bank account and stole all my stuff. Yes, number three was abusive.

I went from resentful, to ugly, to abused again. When I crawled out of the hole several months later, I don't think I knew how to properly connect with people. I went straight into promiscuous sex for the sake of sex. For the sake of being sad and alone. By three years later, a few months before I met my knight, i did not believe it was possible for anyone to actual love me. I was only looking for men who could be part of a fantasy for me. I didn't have faith in me or in men. I was so fucked up.

I'm so thankful to get to be this old. I don't have any resentment left. I don't have pain left to feel for any abuse from any man. I only have love and contentment; and a lingering fear that it won't last and I don't really deserve it. The best I can try for is not to see #1, #2, or #3 in any of the boyfriends my daughter will bring home one day. They are not these boys, these men. She is not me. It's all going to be fucking awesome for her, whatever choices she makes.

Just one drink

Is not enough. Transformation complete. I have turned my knight into a power lover. Anything he learns from here on out is PhD level. He can make me come with his mouth, he can find my clit with just his fingers, he can tease me into begging for it, moaning and writhing. I'm living on ibuprofen the last couple days because my body won't listen to my pleas to keep it external. He walks in with that boyish, excited smile and my body screams, "Touch me! Kiss me! Fuck me!"

I normally only write on this blog under the influence--usually of alcohol. Pretty sure I'm love-drunk right now. My body's swimming around me. Better go find the ibuprofen, so I won't cry when he comes back in.

If your thinking I'm crazy to keep wanting him inside me when I'm obviously worn, just watch the Mr. White sing Lovin' Cup with the Stones. Then imagine a smile like that directed at you by your lover, your knight, that makes your whole body sing. You'll be begging for it too, ibuprofen and all!