Thursday, September 30, 2004

Bite me...

I had a very nice birthday Tuesday.

He sent me roses at work. I got to listen to all of the girls gush over how sweet He was, and how pretty they were, and on and on. Normally attention like that would bother me, but this time I felt proud to be the one they were jealous of, even if only for a minute.

That evening, He had to work a bit late. So I vacuumed and dusted and emptied the dishwasher. I had just sat down on the couch when He pulled in. I hopped up off of the couch, because I know He thinks all I do when I get home from work is sit on my butt in front of the TV. Which is true a lot of the time, but not all the time.

He turned the grill on low and put a London Broil on. At some point I did sit down on the couch and was looking at the newspaper babbling about how they gave us our regular paper AND the free one. He came up the steps from outside and gave me a birthday card. It was one of those really mushy cards that I usually try to avoid because they make me uncomfortable. It was different though, I actually believed that He felt the things that this card said. It was a weird feeling. I kept thinking to myself, "OK, where's the part that's going to make me say 'no way, He doesn't feel that way'?". But it didn't happen. And I felt really loved and I told him it was a really nice card, and said thank you, and I don't think He noticed that I had tears in my eyes because I tried to hide it.

Then He gave me a gift, which I didn't expect because He had already given me my present early (the leather jacket with the purple rose and fringe), and He had sent me roses. He gave me new leather riding gloves, perfect for cool weather, as they come up over the sleeves of your jacket to keep the cold wind from blowing up your sleeves. Of course He got Himself a pair too - only fair since He rides more than I do. Now we are all set for the fall riding season.

He served me wine with our dinner, which was delicious. I had never had a London Broil before I met Him, I didn't even know what it was. This was a second time He'd made one for me. After dinner, we sat down on the couch. He went downstairs again and this time came up with birthday cake with candles in it. The candles were numbers instead of actually trying to fit 28 candles on a cake. Very clever I thought. I was especially glad He didn't use those trick candles that relight after you blow them out. I had enough of that during my childhood. He did say He wasn't going to sing to me though, so I just made my wish and blew them out. We both ate a piece of cake and settled in to watch a movie.

We watched "The Butterfly Effect". Let's just say it is a good thing I stopped drinking after I finished the first bottle of wine. I never would have understood that movie. It was very hard to follow, and almost too unbelieveable. It was entertaining though, and I like sitting on the couch with Him and watching movies.

Then we went to bed. This Man has amazing powers over me. I don't think He realizes it all of the time though. But that night, He hit all the right places. Starting with kissing me softly, then harder. Then moving to my neck and shoulders and behind my ears. Then biting my neck and shoulders. I still have the marks. And I still get excited just thinking about how it felt. If I think I'm not in the mood, that is all He has to do to straighten me out. I can't resist. Soon He was inside of me thrusting gently at first, then harder. He kept biting my neck and shoulders and I couldn't help but squirm I was so excited. After a while He sat up, and I rode him that way for a while, facing each other, with his strong hands holding onto my ass, helping me to move up and down. Then he laid down on his back and it didn't take me too long to reach orgasm. He wanted me to come again, but I couldn't concentrate as I have large bruise on the inside of my knee and it hurt in that position.

He flipped me back over and after a while I heard him groan, and it wasn't long before He was going to come. He pulled out of me and came all over my belly and tits and neck. He loves to do that. He says He sometimes feels bad afterwards because I am such a mess, especially when he gets it in my face or my eyes or my hair, but I don't care. He looks like He is enjoying himself way too much to not have Him do that. Though sometimes I would like for Him to come inside of me, because I like to feel him throb inside of me, but I think He feels better when He comes all over me.

That is ok. I'll take it from Him any way He wants to give it to me.

Tuesday, September 28, 2004

Go away...

Today is one of those days where I feel very anxious. I know some of it has to do with work. We had a major server upgrade over the weekend and there are still issues to resolve. I got home from work yesterday feeling mentally drained. Most of how I feel has to do with my weekend.

My weekend wasn't very nice. Nothing worked out quite the way I wanted it to. I guess that happens sometimes. Stayed out too late on Friday, and didn't really have that much fun. I had to work some overtime Saturday. Saturday night *ahem* Sunday morning was the worst. Too bad for me to even go into detail about. Not yet anyway. Maybe in a while, after I forget some of the more horrible details. The ones that cause my heart to race even just thinking about it. The ones that made me stop and think that it wasn't really happening. Not to me. But it was, it did, and it's over now, but I can't stop thinking about it. Just like me to obsess over it.

Sunday was spent teary-eyed and apologizing to friends for my actions.

And then the what-ifs start. What if I hadn't done this? What if I had done that? What if that would have changed the whole outcome? What if something like this happens again?

I think it might help to tell the story. But I can't. I'm almost to embarrassed that something like this happened to me. My crazy life was supposed to be over. Smooth sailing from here on out. No more loss of control, no more feeling insane. No more of that surreal look the world takes on when these thing happen. How everything seems darker, farther away, and sounds are muffled, and friends seem like strangers. How I feel like I'm not really me.

It was all supposed to go away and never come back. I wanted to curl up and die. I had this horrible feeling inside of me because I didn't know what was going to happen, and all I could think of were the worst possible scenarios.

And I can't get over it. I can't make it go away. I can't stop remembering. I don't think I will ever tell the details. I just don't want to go back there.

Thursday, September 23, 2004


I am getting sick. I hate when I know I am getting sick and I know there is nothing I can do about it. My throat is scratchy and my head kinda hurts and my nose is stuffy and draining. Yuck. And I"m whiny when I'm sick. Top that with PMS, and I'm probably not a very pleasant person to be around right now. I warned Boyfriend last weekend about germs. His daughter was sick. He let her drink out of His pop bottle. I told Him he was going to catch it. Guess His mommy never taught him how germs are spread.

Oh no, He said. It's just her sinuses, it's not contagious.


Well, guess who started feeling "not quite right" last night? Who woke up all stuffy and sick today? Whose sinuses are all plugged up? Shoulda listend to me. Unfortunately, it's not just Him. It got me too. That is my fault. I could have prevented it. I shouldn't kiss someone who has been exposed to germs. Yep, just don't kiss him.

Like that's gonna happen.

For some reason, even though I feel like ca-ca, I am incredibly horny today. My period is due to start. I don't know what my hormones are doing right now, but it's making it hard to concentrate. So I'm sick, PMS-ing, AND sexually frustrated.

Wonder if he'll feel up to it tonight? He seems a lot worse off than I am with this sinus thing. He sounded pretty run down on the phone this morning too.

I bet I could convince Him that sex is good medicine...

Tuesday, September 21, 2004

The Ring(s)

I had my ring inspected and cleaned yesterday. I have to take it in every six months, it's part of the warranty. Now it's all shiny and sparkly and when I type I keep catching myself looking down at it and thinking "Oooohhh. Sooooooo pretty." You don't realize how dirty a ring is until a jeweler cleans it for you. It's white gold, with a sapphire set in the center and two diamonds on each side. I'm not a jewelry expert, so I can't say what shape the sapphire is, but it's not quite round and not quite rectangle. I love it. Not just because it is exactly like something I'd pick for myself, but because I didn't have a thing to do with getting it. It was just my birthday, and that is what He chose to give me last year.

I can think back to every ring I have ever gotten from someone, and can remember how or why I came to receive it. None were ever given to me without me having something to do with it. Well one, but the story behind that makes it meaningless too. Not one ever felt like it meant anything to me. Not even my wedding ring(s). Perhaps (and looking back I can say this now) that's because I meant so little to the people that gave them to me.

The first ring I ever received was from my second, loser boyfriend. Couldn't hold down a job. Dropped out of college. Dyed his hair purple when it wasn't in style. Did I mention he was a loser? Anyway, there was this ring I saw in a Best catalog that I just adored. At the time, I wore gold jewelry even though I liked silver and white gold much better. There was just a wider selection of jewelry in gold at the stores near me. And this was sapphire, my birthstone, with diamonds (albeit small ones) and more sapphires set on each side of the band. Knowing what a fool he was, I couldn't think of a way to let him know I wanted it, yet still have it be his idea.

So I showed it to his mother. She loved me. And she was a really nice lady. To this day, I cannot figure out how she ended up with such a dolt for a son. I figure she was just too nice to him and let him do whatever he wanted. I really believe that is a big reason kids grow up to be losers. She got the hint and magically the damn fool got it for me for Christmas. I'd be willing to bet that she actually bought it and had him give it to me. I was excited when I saw it, because I had wanted it so badly, but when I thought of the way I got it, it never looked as pretty as when I first saw it.

The second ring I got was from the same loser, two months later. We had gotten in a horrible fight. I know I broke up with him, but I can't remember all the details of it. They say the memory will actually allow you to forget bad things that happened to protect you mentally. While an average breakup shouldn't really be considered all that traumatic, there are details of the relationship that I have not, and may never delve into. Just believe that things were not so good, and I am sensitive, and it is probably a good thing I don't remember all of the details.

I was at work and this old lady I worked with came in from her lunch break with a red and white bag with hearts and a teddy bear on it (remember - we're in February now). She gave it to me and said she found it on my car, hanging on the antenna, and was
"worried" that someone might take it. She peeked inside and when she saw what it was she decided to bring it in to me so it wouldn't get stolen. I opened it in the breakroom in front of a bunch of the other girls. It was this huge, gaudy, gold, Amethyst ring. The Amethyst (February's birthstone, NOT mine) was appropriately heart shaped for Valentine's day. Awwwwwwwwwww.

Gag me. The ring was ugly to me, and I'm sure the impression it was supposed to make was something along the lines of "please forgive me, I was wrong, and now I bought you something to show you I am sorry". At least that's what all the beaten and divorced women I worked with said. After the fact, I realized it really meant something more like, "I am a complete asshole and will always will be a jerk and I feel that no matter how lousy I treat you I can buy you something really shiny with my mom's credit card because I am too much of a loser to have my own and you will still sleep with me." Of course, I see this now. At the time, however, I was still a naive young person and actually stayed with the moron for a few more months.

After that were the rings given to me by my now-ex-husband. The first from him was a sapphire, marquis cut. This was given to me one year for Christmas to try to pacify me because I had been hounding him for an engagement ring. Never a wise thing to do.
Never. Never. Never. NEVER. If you have to beg a man for an engagement ring, the probability of the relationship surviving are approximately one in a trillion. If that. What's higher than a trillion? Anyway, the jackass who should have just done me the favor of leaving me then instead of later, bought me the stupid sapphire ring. And at the time, I was soooo disappointed when I opened that little box and saw a sapphire. I tried to hide how upset I was. I wanted an engagement ring. Here comes that whole hindsight thing. If I had known then what I know now, I would have chucked the ring right back at him and asked him to leave right then and there and saved myself a whole lot of wasted years. But I didn't.

Instead I stuck around TWO MORE years with my blinders on, and finally got the damn engagement ring. The cheapest god damn engagement ring I could find that was still made out of gold and diamonds. A 1/4 carat diamond to be precise. A cheap, 1/4 carat
diamond wedding SET actually. $250, AND I think he got it on sale. Because my evil, conniving mother, who just LOVED him, convinced me to look at rings one day while at the mall with HER. And convinced me that this was a beautiful little ring, and it was well within his budget, and wouldn't I rather have a nice little wedding ring and extra money for, say the honeymoon, than to have a huge diamond ring that would only get caught on things and look out of place on me?

Why, yes, I guess so. I mean, mother knows best, right? It's normal to shop for rings with your mother and NOT your boyfriend. And it's normal for your mother to cut the picture of (forcefully) chosen ring out of a catalog, with the sale price handwritten on it, and hand it to said boyfriend. The same boyfriend who has been living with you since you were together for ONLY three months because he couldn't get along with his step mother and your mother felt sorry for him? The same boyfriend that doesn't have to sleep on the couch, OH NO, because you are mature enough to live with someone AND sleep in the same bed with them even though you've never moved out of your parents house? The same boyfriend that will buy you said ring, and give it to you on Christimas Eve and then hide under the covers while you open it and not even ask you the magic words every single girl (don't you dare deny it) dreams of hearing her whole entire life?

Talk about an ugly ring.

Actually, it was a nice setting. Another marquis cut. It was pretty, though small. I'm really not that materialistic that I think I am deserving of some huge, expensive, take-out-a-loan-to-buy-it ring. But come on. Just the way it ALL happened was so wrong. So, so wrong. And I had so many warning signals going off in my head. But everyone else seemed to thing it was all just fine. Everyone but me.

So I went with it.

And I stuck it out even longer. Got married. Which I think I touched on here.

Made it through a couple more Christmases. That season (which would also be our last Christmas together) was a ring at Alvin's that caught my eye. Damn those sale ads. The sale was only one day. And it was on sale for $69!!! What a bargain! I've bought shoes that cost more than that! But he was too busy working on his gay friend's race car (no lie) to have time to think about me or that I may want this pretty little mystic fire stone ring. So I called my mom crying. Not really so much because I wanted the ring.

Because I wanted someone to buy me the ring because I meant something to them. Because I was sick of it. Sick of him leaving me alone to be with his friends. Sick of being ignored. Sick of everything.

So what did she do? She asked to see the ad. OK, real smooth, mom. But hey, if she wanted to buy me the ring, at least I knew someone cared, right? So I sullenly drove over there, gave her the ad and she went on her merry way to buy me my ring. What a
nice mommy.

Christmas eve came. We always open gifts on Christmas eve, now that Santa doesn't come anymore. Imagine my surprise when I got through all of my gifts and my pretty little mystic fire stone ring wasn't in there. Oh well, I thought. It was so cheap, and only a one day sale, so they probably ran out.

Or not. The next morning, I grudgingly got out of bed to open gifts with my roommate. I mean, the jerk I was married too. And lo and behold, there was my pretty little mystic fire stone ring. The look on my face gave me away, I'm sure. I knew he didn't buy that for me. And here he was, with a shitty how-do-ya-like-me-now grin on his face. Like he pulled some sort of trick and got that for me without even being around when I saw it in the stupid ad. No way, asshole. You are NOT getting credit for this one. I knew my mom bought that ring and gave it to him to give to me. Probably trying to save my pointless, already-over marriage.

Nice try, everyone. It didn't work.

So that should be the end of my meaningless jewelry story. But it isn't. There is one more ring. My wedding ring was small. It was chosen by my mother. I was in a miserable marriage. But, I was married, and as unhappy as I was, that meant something to me. Not just that I wanted to be unhappy for the rest of my life. But that I made a promise. And dammit, I kept promises. No matter how badly I wanted to break them.

Imagine how I felt then, one morning, after getting out of the shower, home alone AGAIN, while jerk was off working on another buddy's car (though this one was not gay), I couldn't find my wedding ring. I never slept with my rings on and I always put them in a little jewelry dish by the sink. My watch was there, my bracelets were there, my other rings were there. Even the little thin piece of gold that constituted as a wedding band was there. But the little ring, with its little diamands was GONE.

I frantically searched my bathroom and my bedroom. I called the jerk to see if he'd seen it. He didn't seem too concerned. He was too busy with his friends to be concerned with such a thing.

I called my mom, who came over with my dad. He tore apart the sink, thinking it had fallen down the drain and gotten caught in the trap. No such luck. And with all the other gunk that was down in the trap (my jerk husband was no plumber) there was no way it could have gotten past it, even with how small it was.

My mom did her best to calm me down. Think. Retrace your steps. Where did you take it off? Are you sure you put it with the rest of them? I knew I had. Why else would the band be there?

Then it dawned on me. Oddly enough, the evening before, a newly-released-from-jail old friend of the jerk's had come over. He wanted to see the house. So jerk showed him around. Before leaving, he said he had a headache and asked if we had any aspirin. I got the aspirin for him and he went INTO THE BATHROOM to take them. Not the main bathroom. Not in the kitchen. In my master bathroom, off of the bedroom.

He stole my ring.

I called the police to fill out a report. Mr. Police Officer came over to take the report. Mr. Police Officer was sympathetic, but a little upset about my dog, who kept barking at him. I think she would have attacked him if I hadn't held on to her. Not a good thing. That's my dad's friend's fault. His friend is a game warden, and would often chase my dog around while in uniform. She was always afraid of him. I'm convinced that any man in uniform is going to come off as a threat to my dog because of that. He didn't care about that story and requested that I lock her up while he took the report, or he would have her removed from the premises.

OK. Didn't want to lose my dog even more than I didn't want my ring to be missing, so I put her in the basement.

Mr. Police Officer took the report, and said they would do all they could to find it (which probably consists of filing the report in a big metal filing cabinet and forgetting about it), but it was unlikely it would be recovered. Even though I told him I knew who took it. And that this person has a criminal record that consists of MUCH more than stealing cheap wedding rings.

Oh well. The joke would be on him when he tried to pawn it and wouldn't get much money for it.

I called the jerk, and he still didn't seem to be too concerned, until I told him that I had filled out a police report, and indicated his friend as a suspect. Then he was pissed. Not because his friend had stolen his wife's wedding ring, but because I was trying to get the guy in trouble. Remember those warning signals? That was another one.

I wholeheartedly believe that that bastard had the guy steal my ring. Just to piss me off. He never even bothered to get me another ring. Or even ask if I wanted another one. He didn't wear his, after all (warning, warning), why did I need one?

A few months later I was at the mall, with my mom, again. All of a sudden, she suggestrd that I buy myself a new ring. That seemed a little odd, but I looked in the jewelry store anyway. And I found a pretty WHITE GOLD, marquis cut, 1/2 carat ring. For $600. I think it was on sale for $450. So after much debate over whether or not it was right for me to replace my own wedding ring, I bought it. And I liked it. And I didn't care that he didn't buy it for me. Because, again, looking back, at that point I don't think I loved him anymore. As a matter of fact, looking back, I'm not sure I ever did. I loved the IDEA of being married, and having my house, and a wedding ring, even if it meant NOT living happily ever after.

So I wore my ring, and when people commented on it I smiled and said thank you. When they asked if jerk got it for me to replace

the old one, I said no. I had bought it for myself. And they would look shocked. So what? It was like I was married to myself anyway, why not?

Then I got divorced. I only got to wear that ring for a few months. And I liked it, dammit. I tried wearing it for a while on my other hand, saying that I picked it out and so it wasn't really a wedding ring. But after that, every time I looked at it I remembered WHY I had it, and eventually, it wasn't so pretty anymore. So I quit wearing it.

I came across all of these rings the other day, while looking through my jewelry trying to find earrings for Boyfriend's daughter to wear. These rings will now be sold on eBay. And if I don't sell them there, maybe I'll just give them to Goodwill. Maybe then someone, who doesn't know their past, can wear them, and look at them and say "Ooooohhh, so pretty."

Because now I have a ring that means something to me. A ring that, every time I look at it reminds me that He loves me.

That He saw and thought "She will like this. I will get it for her."

And I love it.

Tuesday, September 14, 2004

I want to belong to Him.

Lately I have been craving the feeling of being controlled. For Boyfriend to take control of my life, and protect me. At first, this desire frightened me. I thought I should not want someone else to dominate me. That would mean I was weak. I don't think this is true anymore. I have always looked for acceptance from others, approval, direction, guidance. The problem was, I looked for it from everyone. It felt unsettling, so many people telling me what to do. I tried to break away from them. I quit asking for advice from some. I kept more things inside, trying to figure things out by myself. Yet I still felt I needed someone to direct me. Reassurance that the decisions I made were right. I don't think that is weak. I think knowing who you are as a person, and how you function the best is a sign of strength. This doesn't mean I couldn't get along on my own. I can. I have. I simply don't want to.

Part of this, I'm sure, comes from how controlling my mother was, and still tries to be, over me. I always felt protected, but as I got older, I felt uncomfortable. I wanted guidance in my life, but it felt wrong coming from her after I became an adult. She made me feel childlike when I talked to her. She still does. I don't like that feeling. I have begun to distance myself from her. I still love her as my mother. I just don't want her controlling my thoughts anymore. I have confided in Boyfriend about this, and how she makes me feel. And he has always given me good advice on how to handle her. At first, it was hard to listen to him. It felt wrong to trust someone outside of my family about issues within the family. I soon realized that his point of view was more rational about this sort of thing, as he was not
directly affected by it. There are still some things I can't say to her, even though he has advised it and I know that he is right. I am still learning. I am becoming more comfortable following his direction. It is comforting to me. I feel safe.

I feel happy when he asks me to do something, and I do so and he is pleased. I have always tried to please others. It brings me pleasure. I do not like when I don't do something to his satisfaction. I feel I have failed. My first reaction was always to get defensive in those situations. Which would cause an argument. I realize now though, that with most of the things he did/does not like, he is correct. For
example, I am a lazy housekeeper. I don't like to clean after working all day. But that isn't right. Everyone has to do it. I should not be any different. The same for cooking dinner. It isn't healthy to eat out all of the time. Or to constantly prepare frozen dinners. I am trying to learn to not be so lazy. And I find that I do have a sense of accomplishment after I have done something, even something as simple as putting away laundry or sweeping the floor. Silly, perhaps, but I do.

Yesterday and Friday I was off work. I loved it. I found myself pretending that I didn't have to go back to work. That all I had to do was run errands, do housework and yardwork and plan for dinner for the week. I was able to do things that needed to be done, but without a set schedule. It felt so freeing. I actually enjoyed thinking about what to make for dinner while getting groceries. I enjoyed mowing the lawn. I didn't feel like I needed to rush around to get it done. I was so happy. If I would have had time, I would have washed my Jeep, and trimmed the shrubs and planted my mums. We had to leave shortly after he got home from work, so I didn't. I suppose I need to find a way to bring those feelings out during the work week. I spend so much time stressing about work. I have nightmares on Sunday nights about work. My back is tense between my shoulders every day by 11:00. That is one area that I definitely need to improve. I have to learn that I will never be able to just stay home. Perhaps he can help me with that too? That will be tough. If only I could do something different. I think I would be happy again for a while. I wonder if this feeling would return again after a few years of trying something new? I used to like where I worked. But it is a lot different now. We have more employees, my position has changed drastically from what it was when I started, we are now owned by a huge national company. That just isn't me. Maybe now I just have too much responsibility? Too much to handle? Too much to control?

The control I desire carries over to sexual control. I think that is the part I enjoy the most. I definitely used to have issues about sex. Sometimes I still do. Probably because of bad experiences in past relationships. I never would initiate a sexual encounter in the past. I hated having someone's penis in my mouth, or having to pleasure them with a hand job. I hated oral sex completely, as a matter of fact. But now, I find that I am changing. I know now that it had a lot to do with the way I was being treated. I desire things with him that I never dreamed I would. I love to hear him tell me to suck his dick. I love when he pushes me down on my knees and grabs a handful of my hair and forces his cock into my mouth. I love when he picks out my clothes for me and instructs me to not wear panties. I love when we are sitting on the couch, and we kiss and he rapes my mouth with his tongue. I love when he tells me to stand up, pulls my pants down or my skirt up, bends me over and fucks me from behind. It is almost as if I have the control then, he wants me so badly that he just has to have me right then and there. I love how he rarely allows me to go without at least one orgasm. I love the things he sometimes says when I am on top of him, fucking him - that I am His slut, His bitch, His baby. It is so exciting to me. I feel desired, wanted, loved.

I know it may be upsetting to some that I feel this way. I don't I care. This is how I feel, and it feels good. I want him to take control of me. I want people to know that he is in charge of me. I want them to know that they can't do anything to hurt me because he is going to protect me. I want to feel safe. Protected. Loved. Needed. Wanted. Desired. I want strange men to know that they can't come up to me anymore and say whatever crass thing they want, because he will be there to stop them. To protect me. I want to feel like he owns me.

That I am His.

Wednesday, September 08, 2004


Boyfriend worked late last night. He called me at home to see what I was doing. Besides pouting to myself because he was still working and we were supposed to spend the evening at home getting naked? He told me to go write something sexy in my blog. I just wasn't inspired. Sometimes I will type up a whole entry and then delete it because I am afraid to put it in there. I don't know why. I do know two people who read my blog (Boyfriend and another friend), and perhaps I still feel I have to guard myself. But Boyfriend says he wants to know everything about me, so I guess it is a good way to express myself. I also know that my writing skills aren't the greatest. That makes me worry about what people think. Sometimes my brain goes to fast, and I skip over details. I feel a need to rush and get it done. I shouldn't do that.

Today is cool and gloomy and rainy. But it is somehow comforting to me. I can't see outside all day because I work in a horrible Jewish dungeon, but when I get up and walk up front, I can see the dark, dark clouds. If it is going to rain all day, I prefer it to look that way. Threatening. I enjoy storms. I enjoy seeing lightning and hearing thunder. I enjoy hearing wind tearing through the trees. So long as the wind doesn't knock down the trees around the house.

Saturday it rained. We were very tired from a late night out on Friday. He pulled the futon out in front of the TV so we could lie down and watch the game and take a nap. He leaned in and kissed me. His lips are so nice. Lovely to kiss. I love the way he sneaks his to tongue into my mouth. Gentle, then hard. He stopped kissing me and instructed me to go get a towel (it was at the tail-end of my period) and remove my clothing. I did so. I was very hungry for a good fucking. We have sex during my period, but it is messy and I can't fully relax. I worry about it too much. Having sex in front of the TV, on a futon, in the middle of a rainy Saturday afternoon is very enjoyable. It almost feels wrong. I should have been up vacuuming or doing laundry or cleaning the bathtub, and there I was, on my back, legs in the air, getting fucked. Then on top, fucking him. Sweet release. I was on my back again, until he finally came. Then we napped on the futon. It was very nice.

I woke up and crawled up on top of him again. He was still sleeping. I rubbed my small, perky breasts on his back and kissed the back of his neck and his ear. I wondered if he likes that as much as I do. He started to stir, I kept kissing and nuzzling. Soon he was awake. He lifted me up and turned over. I sat on top of him, riding him for a while. I asked him to sit on the couch. That is one of my favortie positions, for my enjoyment anyway. It's comfortable, everything gets touched in the right places, and he can put his arms around me. I also can get a good hold on the railing behind the couch. Makes for really good leverage.

Soon it was time to put our lazy, sexy afternoon away. His weekend for the children. We hopped in the shower and he left to get them. I spent the rest of the weekend feeling cast-off, rejected, second-best. That is so wrong of me. I felt displaced for some reason. Like I didn't belong. I'm sure it's all in my head. I need to learn to not think that way. I just feel not-so-special sometimes.

I need to feel special.

I crave it.

Friday, September 03, 2004

Random thoughts of the day.

How may times a day do you say "have a nice day" to someone? How often is it said to you? Does anyone really mean it? I mean, when was the last time you said that to someone and sincerely hoped that that person had a nice day? You probably never thought about that person again. I thought about this today as I went through the drive-thru at lunch. The young man at the window, whose tag said "Kris - shift manager", told me to have a nice day. I smiled and said "you too." Then, as I drove away, I thought about how many times a day he must say that. Just to be polite. Because that's what we're taught, be polite. I wondered if he really cared at all if I had a nice day, or if he cared if any of the other people he said it to had a nice day. Then I wondered if he would have a nice day. And now that I think about it again, I hope he did.

I passed a sign today. These things are popping up all around town. Nobody knows who is doing it. It was even in the newspaper. They are green signs that say "Are you living your dream? (Think about it)". I wonder who is doing this? I wonder if it is a church group, trying to recruit others. Trying to say that our dream should be to live for God. I wonder if it is a person, or group of people, who have found that inner-happiness that some people talk about, and say they have found, and they want the same thing for everyone else in the world. Maybe they are the type of people that tell us to have a nice day and really mean it. Or maybe it is just some kid who printed these things up on his computer printer just to see what kind of reaction he would get? But it made me think. Am I living my dream? Do I even have a dream? Can it be a purely fantastical dream? One that will never ever happen? Or is it supposed to be something meaningful? Can it be something simple, and even though bigger things will happen in your life, that one little thing can be your dream, because makes you feel satisified and loved and fulfilled?

It's Friday, a long weekend ahead of us.

I hope you all have a nice day.


Wednesday, September 01, 2004

Another Quiz. Sorry.

I'm so lame. I'm addicted to these stupid quizzes.
Stolen from Less Than Lucid

1. What time do you get up?
Too late. 7:15

2. If you could eat lunch with one person, who would it be?

3. Gold or silver?

4. What was the last film you saw at the cinema?
I'm not sure. It's been forever. "Haunted Mansion" with the kids. If there was one after that, I forget. When was "Texas Chainsaw Massacre" at the theater?

5. What is/are your favorite TV show(s)?
I don't have any new favorites right now. But Golden Girls is my favorite rerun.

6. What did you have for breakfast?
Little Debbie Chocolate Chip thing.

7. Who would you hate to be stuck in a room with?
Boyfriend's ex-wife or my ex-husband.

8. What/who inspires you?
I don't know. Sunshine.

9. What is the name your parents were going to name you if you were the opposite gender? Anthony, I think.

10. Beach, City or Country?

11. Favorite ice cream?
Anything chocolate or peanut butter.

12. Chocolate covered or yogurt covered? ?
I don't really like that kind of stuff. Either if it's on a pretzel but that's about all I'll eat.

13. Favorite color?

14. What kind of car would you buy if you could choose any one?
1969 Challenger - mint condition.

15. Favorite sandwich?
Grilled cheese

16. What trait do you despise in people?

17. Roach or spider?
What? I hate spiders. I don't know if I've ever come across a roach. Big black beetles, yes. But I don't know if they were actually roaches.

18. Where are you going on your next trip?
Camping or Cancun. How big does the trip have to be?

19. What color is your bathroom?
Ugly. Like peach and mauve and blah. The lady that owned the house before did that. I hate it. It's the kind of colors that make me angry.

20. Without looking, what is the meaning of Ameliorate?
Fix? I don't know.

21. Where would you retire to?

22. Fav day of the week?
Friday at 5.

23. Paper or Plastic?

24. Plastic cups or glasses?

25. What is the most baffling thing you have seen someone do recently?
Get really, really mad over a tuna fish sandwich.

29. Coke or Pepsi?

30. Are you a morning person or a night owl?
night owl

31. Birkenstocks or Clark's?
I don't know what Clark's are, but I like Birkenstocks.

32. Do you have any pets?
Me doggy.

(This quiz was missing questions 26,27,28?)