Everything seems to happen in clumps. There was the phase when we were all getting married. Then the baby phase. Now seems to be the phase of marital trouble. I guess that is what normally comes after the baby phase. Maybe this has to do with the new-relationship high. It is powerfully intoxicating and sets your whole body and soul on fire. I know it well. Usually it ends with a burn. Practically always. Did the burns cause my sexual confusion?
I didn't have that all-consuming high when I started dating my knight. We had lots of good times. I was attracted to him. To tell the truth, at that age I was attracted to almost anyone with a enough in his pants. My knight came with lots of stress, miscommunication, and fighting. Oh boy, was there fighting! In some ways our wedding was a business arrangement more than a whirlwind of excitement. Not having the high was actually a relief. High = BURN Somewhere subconsciously that was true. While we just kept fighting; we kept fighting. Eventually we got better at it.
Somewhere in that, I forgot how much I love dick. The intrinsic drive was all muddle up with the pain from all those burns. All the highs came with burns, even if I was the one holding the match. During the loss of passion phase of our marriage, I actively avoided touching him there. I lost a part of who I was because it was weighed down by anchor of guilt. Long past time to cut that chain.
During his last week home before this dry spell, I was sick. I couldn't get out of bed. I avoided kissing him so that he would stay healthy. No fun. When I should be aching for his touch from every pore, I was having trouble getting in the mood. I missed him. Just not in that full-body, uncontrollable lust that has re-entered my life. Thank God for instant messaging! My knight started telling me about a current fantasy. It involves going down on him in hotel kitchen. That was it, and I'm back. I do love a big cock in my mouth. His. Now I only want his. I want him. Being invigorated by my true friend and partner in life means there's no burn. Knight + High = Eternal Flame.
Maybe I missed that high when our relationship was new. Feeling pretty blessed to have it now. A new relationship with the only person I can trust completely. A high we made for ourselves and a solution to guilt vs. wanting dick. Just wish he was here to solute my solution.
--19 forced to me 31 sometimes.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
He's got me in his pocket.
Thinking a lot about choices lately. Certainly most people would not have made the choices I did. In fact, I wouldn't recommend doing so. How is it that I did everything wrong and ended up with so much right? My knight chose me. What was he looking for? What did he get? What was the price?
Spotted a former 2am "friend" when downtown with my knight on my birthday last week. Seems he is still very into 2am now eight years later. Probably about as much commitment as he can handle. That's fine for him. Although, it is men like him, lots of men, who say they would love a "nympho" wife. What they really want is a nympho at 2am, and then a regular wife. Passion--crazy--comes at a price. A price most men can't, or don't want to, pay. Would Mr. 2am stick it out through half a decade of bad sex, depression, and serious illness? You know the answer to that. Crazy doesn't stay in the bedroom (or, obviously with me, any other place). Crazy is everywhere, but it doesn't have to bad.
I've been in another man's pocket before. In a sinister way. An unstable way. Something with outside instability doesn't last long in my life. I have enough internal instability for any situation. The way my knight has been is different. He's done it the right way. He's held on with all his might and surrounded me with stability. And now he has his totally faithful, nympho wife again. His raging libido has a place to land. Forever. Forever together for each other. Lust and love. And day to day life. And he doesn't regret the payment. Or fear whatever may come in the future to hold it together. Passion makes life exciting. Just knowing a man like my knight exists adds a sense of continuity to the world. A good man also wants to have his brains fucked out on a regular basis. A man is a man is a good man.
Spotted a former 2am "friend" when downtown with my knight on my birthday last week. Seems he is still very into 2am now eight years later. Probably about as much commitment as he can handle. That's fine for him. Although, it is men like him, lots of men, who say they would love a "nympho" wife. What they really want is a nympho at 2am, and then a regular wife. Passion--crazy--comes at a price. A price most men can't, or don't want to, pay. Would Mr. 2am stick it out through half a decade of bad sex, depression, and serious illness? You know the answer to that. Crazy doesn't stay in the bedroom (or, obviously with me, any other place). Crazy is everywhere, but it doesn't have to bad.
I've been in another man's pocket before. In a sinister way. An unstable way. Something with outside instability doesn't last long in my life. I have enough internal instability for any situation. The way my knight has been is different. He's done it the right way. He's held on with all his might and surrounded me with stability. And now he has his totally faithful, nympho wife again. His raging libido has a place to land. Forever. Forever together for each other. Lust and love. And day to day life. And he doesn't regret the payment. Or fear whatever may come in the future to hold it together. Passion makes life exciting. Just knowing a man like my knight exists adds a sense of continuity to the world. A good man also wants to have his brains fucked out on a regular basis. A man is a man is a good man.
Sunday, October 31, 2010
I had a brain that felt like pancake batter.
Being separated is harder than it used to be. Guess that is just a reality I will have to deal with in exchange for a good sex life with my own husband. It's just too easy to start thinking about my knight and get turned on. Youtube doesn't help. I'm trying to avoid the more suggestive songs. For me, perhaps there isn't a non-suggestive song that Jack White sings. My body has gone Pavlov, only its bell is Jack White. In between my toes have gone ultra-sensitive. I can feel and smell my knight. I hear or see Jack White, and my whole body longs for the touch of my very own husband. I WANT him. I don't want to be in this bed alone. I want all of him. To lick and touch him.
My head turns to mush imagining scenarios. Some as simple as just a long kiss when the opportunity presents itself. Others racier. Is it healthy to be this in love with your husband? When he's out of town, it sure is the hardest button to button.
My head turns to mush imagining scenarios. Some as simple as just a long kiss when the opportunity presents itself. Others racier. Is it healthy to be this in love with your husband? When he's out of town, it sure is the hardest button to button.
Sunday, October 17, 2010
Take a Mountain, Turn it into a Mole
Argh moving.
My knight has Stuff. Not the kind of stuff you think about. Or the amount of stuff you think about. Stuff with a capital "C". Serious amounts of stuff. So much stuff. Normally I don't really think about it. As character flaws go, its not so bad. I don't usually think about it and purposefully don't notice.
Moving changes things.
It could be said that I have an innate ability to see spatially. I know how to pack things. If falling blocks never sped up, I could be a champion Tetris player. Now aim me at an eight foot wide, nine foot high moving truck. The problem with having to arrange all my knights Stuff, is that I then have to actually look at. Acknowledge it. Notice. At the end of the first day, during which we only got his Stuff loaded, I was not in a good mood. There is a mountain coming home to its range. So much Stuff. Having to actually be fully aware of this could break a person. Luckily, loading does not last for ever, and we were lovey-dovey again before the end of the weekend.
Now, at the other end of the move I must prepare for the imminent arrival. Storage units and hired movers will be involved. Plans for massive, dual climate zoned warehouse/office in our yard. Jokes about moving my knight out of his own house. And garbage. And Goodwill. So much.
Yesterday was the anniversary of our wedding. Six years we are married. And we don't hold hands with the fingers. I love being married to this knight. I love him. I love being home. On the way home from our "date", I made sure he knew that. The excitement of feeling his body convulse--fighting to continue to drive safe while his senses are overloading--are intoxicating. When we made it into the driveway, it was like being teenagers at an empty house. Good thing the occupants were not the kind to hear cars pull up and look out windows. Things were happening everywhere.
We were able to redress and make it into our home with groceries. Then not being able to keep our hands off each other still, we made it to our bedroom. The room where both our children were conceived. The room in which our son was born. Our room. Our home. Together. We are oversexed teenagers and thirty-something parents. And we are finally home together. Who cares about stuff?
My knight has Stuff. Not the kind of stuff you think about. Or the amount of stuff you think about. Stuff with a capital "C". Serious amounts of stuff. So much stuff. Normally I don't really think about it. As character flaws go, its not so bad. I don't usually think about it and purposefully don't notice.
Moving changes things.
It could be said that I have an innate ability to see spatially. I know how to pack things. If falling blocks never sped up, I could be a champion Tetris player. Now aim me at an eight foot wide, nine foot high moving truck. The problem with having to arrange all my knights Stuff, is that I then have to actually look at. Acknowledge it. Notice. At the end of the first day, during which we only got his Stuff loaded, I was not in a good mood. There is a mountain coming home to its range. So much Stuff. Having to actually be fully aware of this could break a person. Luckily, loading does not last for ever, and we were lovey-dovey again before the end of the weekend.
Now, at the other end of the move I must prepare for the imminent arrival. Storage units and hired movers will be involved. Plans for massive, dual climate zoned warehouse/office in our yard. Jokes about moving my knight out of his own house. And garbage. And Goodwill. So much.
Yesterday was the anniversary of our wedding. Six years we are married. And we don't hold hands with the fingers. I love being married to this knight. I love him. I love being home. On the way home from our "date", I made sure he knew that. The excitement of feeling his body convulse--fighting to continue to drive safe while his senses are overloading--are intoxicating. When we made it into the driveway, it was like being teenagers at an empty house. Good thing the occupants were not the kind to hear cars pull up and look out windows. Things were happening everywhere.
We were able to redress and make it into our home with groceries. Then not being able to keep our hands off each other still, we made it to our bedroom. The room where both our children were conceived. The room in which our son was born. Our room. Our home. Together. We are oversexed teenagers and thirty-something parents. And we are finally home together. Who cares about stuff?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Going to Wichita
Saturdays were always slow. Always easy to believe this was a result of the amount of alcohol I had ingested the night before. Now I wonder. These days I seem to experience socializing hangovers. Not "partying" in the nineteen year old sense. Just laid-up and drained from the sheer act of being social--without the alcohol!
The hangovers themselves haven't changed much in a sense. Sleeping in, naps, ibuprofen, breakfast at two and then back to bed. While that is not exactly what I did today, its sure what I felt like doing. Today went more like the following: Wake up late, mix some cocoa powder (the baking kind) with plain yogurt and frozen berries, get everyone dressed and loaded in the car, fix my daughter's ballet shoes in the parking lot, entertain a two year old for an hour, get home and fall asleep on the floor, wake up at two, take ibuprofen and make lunch (see! similarities!), lay around in the grass for a bit and then get everyone dressed and in the car again to pick up my knight from work. sigh.
Laying out there in the yard, I missed the nineteen year old version--the version that involved afternoon sex and not being the only adult asleep on the floor. Having a hangover with a lover is one of the good times. Saturday morning a blur of naked bodies, showers and kisses, then round 2 (or 3?) after breakfast. Maybe a light dinner with friends later. That's the way to get over a hangover! Even if it is just a socializing hangover, getting through a hangover alone is the pits. After the kids went back inside to supposedly get dressed, but actually to watch "Martha Speaks", I did a bit more than just fantasize in the front yard.
My social calendar has miraculously cleared for the weekend, so we are taking a weekend getaway to stay in a hotel. Isolate our little family from concerns and responsibilities. Two children in one queen-sized bed; two lovers in (or not) the other bed.
The hangovers themselves haven't changed much in a sense. Sleeping in, naps, ibuprofen, breakfast at two and then back to bed. While that is not exactly what I did today, its sure what I felt like doing. Today went more like the following: Wake up late, mix some cocoa powder (the baking kind) with plain yogurt and frozen berries, get everyone dressed and loaded in the car, fix my daughter's ballet shoes in the parking lot, entertain a two year old for an hour, get home and fall asleep on the floor, wake up at two, take ibuprofen and make lunch (see! similarities!), lay around in the grass for a bit and then get everyone dressed and in the car again to pick up my knight from work. sigh.
Laying out there in the yard, I missed the nineteen year old version--the version that involved afternoon sex and not being the only adult asleep on the floor. Having a hangover with a lover is one of the good times. Saturday morning a blur of naked bodies, showers and kisses, then round 2 (or 3?) after breakfast. Maybe a light dinner with friends later. That's the way to get over a hangover! Even if it is just a socializing hangover, getting through a hangover alone is the pits. After the kids went back inside to supposedly get dressed, but actually to watch "Martha Speaks", I did a bit more than just fantasize in the front yard.
My social calendar has miraculously cleared for the weekend, so we are taking a weekend getaway to stay in a hotel. Isolate our little family from concerns and responsibilities. Two children in one queen-sized bed; two lovers in (or not) the other bed.
Monday, June 21, 2010
Turned it Blue
So my period came almost exactly as my knight's plane landed. And now he is gone again. Gone during the blessed pre-ovulatory time of heightened feeling and arousal. And that is not even it, really.
The one time we had sex between these two trip, it was mediocre. It was forced and not automatic. I am sure some of that was pent up resentment on my part. Some of that was his tendency to loose new information immediately if it is not being used. It's like one step forward and two steps back. Then more resentment on my part, of course.
So, the night before he left town for the second time this month, we talked about it. My resentment. Ideas to rectify the issues. Not much can be done about his having to leave town twice this month. In effect, this makes him absent a third of this month!
This white orchid is definitely feeling blue. How old am I now anyway? Guess I'm thirty. Not so bad. At least we have a place to move forward from and something to practice in the meantime.
The one time we had sex between these two trip, it was mediocre. It was forced and not automatic. I am sure some of that was pent up resentment on my part. Some of that was his tendency to loose new information immediately if it is not being used. It's like one step forward and two steps back. Then more resentment on my part, of course.
So, the night before he left town for the second time this month, we talked about it. My resentment. Ideas to rectify the issues. Not much can be done about his having to leave town twice this month. In effect, this makes him absent a third of this month!
This white orchid is definitely feeling blue. How old am I now anyway? Guess I'm thirty. Not so bad. At least we have a place to move forward from and something to practice in the meantime.
Thursday, June 10, 2010
With every word I say
Long week alone with two small children. My knight is coming home in the early hours of the morning. I'm patient of this plan, as humble as I can.
Intermittent frustration with people who can't hear the hypocrisy in the things they say. I often imagine what people think about my marriage. About how such a wonderful man stays married to me. The truth is, these things are not an issue for him. The things we fight about are so obscure from public life, that they cannot be imagined by the common bystander.
When I imagine people questioning our marriage, I always hope they think it must be the sex. Even during our years of dead sex, I hoped this. Now that I'm feeling more myself, at least sexually.... Well, pride is a sin, but something close to that. I want coworkers and their spouses to think that he is getting his brains fucked out on a regular basis. That must be why he puts up with my mouth. Little do they know that my mouth does not offend him, but I do fantasize about it pleasing him.
Everyone won't be my friend, but I have one friend. One lifetime friend. One friend who won't leave of his own free will. I hope I wake up when he comes to bed tonight. Luteal phase or not--early morning appointments tomorrow or not--I want to welcome him home the way I hope others imagine.
Intermittent frustration with people who can't hear the hypocrisy in the things they say. I often imagine what people think about my marriage. About how such a wonderful man stays married to me. The truth is, these things are not an issue for him. The things we fight about are so obscure from public life, that they cannot be imagined by the common bystander.
When I imagine people questioning our marriage, I always hope they think it must be the sex. Even during our years of dead sex, I hoped this. Now that I'm feeling more myself, at least sexually.... Well, pride is a sin, but something close to that. I want coworkers and their spouses to think that he is getting his brains fucked out on a regular basis. That must be why he puts up with my mouth. Little do they know that my mouth does not offend him, but I do fantasize about it pleasing him.
Everyone won't be my friend, but I have one friend. One lifetime friend. One friend who won't leave of his own free will. I hope I wake up when he comes to bed tonight. Luteal phase or not--early morning appointments tomorrow or not--I want to welcome him home the way I hope others imagine.
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