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.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Monday, November 14, 2011
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.)
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.)
Friday, October 21, 2011
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.
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.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
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.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, July 5, 2011
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 7, 2011
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.
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.
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