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.