Foggy

I haven't written in a long time. Not too long ago, when I thought I should, I felt that, actually, maybe I shouldn't.

Even though I still love you, the memories that bring me so much happiness are slowly making their way into the past. Just now, I went back to read what I had written on this blog and there is a mixture of emotion. I remembered how happy and in love I felt as I used my gift to express it into words. I also remembered how many times I would check my email to see if you left any comments. I remember the feeling I got when I realized you weren't going to comment. I used to think my writing made you happy. Now I don't know if you feel anything at all when you read my stuff.

I know that you know that I love your praise and your attention. But you seem unwilling or unwanting to give it. When you do reach out to hold me or tell me how much I mean to you is when I've gotten to the level of being really hurt or upset.

Lately I feel lost and in a daze. I'm afraid that I've given and given and given to the point of exhaustion and depletion. I'm embarrassed by my obvious cries for attention and people pleasing and I'm even more ashamed that they didn't work. All I've done is desensitize others to the essence of me. Now people and perhaps even you have simply gotten used to me, and I am no longer something to be cherished. I have done my job too well.

I don't know who I am anymore, who I want to be isn't working. I don't feel creative, I don't feel like a desireable woman. You wrote me something lovely and a couple of close friends noticed my lack of vitality and tried to say nice things to me but I have fallen so deep into thought I can barely understand the words.

I wish you still found me interesting, like you once did. Now a days I come in a distant second to our comfy bedroom and HD tv.

Somewhere I went wrong.

I blame myself.

Miss you.

As this little thing we have with each other grows older, there are other ways we confirm affection. It's not the dates anymore, the sexy messages, the hand holding....
It's in the little things we do in our day to day routine.

Today, my pelvis is giving me hell. I don't feel like your sexy girlfriend, I feel like an achy grandma. But I keep my smile on my face because I am happy. I'm happy with my life, my children, my friends, my boyfriend. I keep going and going, because as happy as I am, I want my family to be happy and cared for too.

As I care for you, as I iron your clothes, as I use my hands to pleasure you, it fills me more than I ever thought I could be.

And all I can hear in my heart, as I keep busy on a Sunday evening is

i love you i love you i love you

Ol Reliable

I love my Honda.

It's everything I imagined. When I first saw one, I thought to myself "that's it. That's the one. No matter what anyone says, I will have it. I don't care if I should be sensible. That's what I want, that's what I'll get".

What baby wants, baby gets.

It took time. Research. Thought. Prayer, or whatever you want to call it. But, quietly, with my eye on the prize, and my focus unwavering, I drove off the lot in my dream car. I had to stand my ground. I had to raise a little hell. It's my way. I don't hold back anymore.

Now, when I drive it, I feel good. I feel sexy sometimes. I feel secure. I take care of it, it takes care of me. Sometimes I drive a little fast. Sometimes I take my time, enjoying the ride, enjoying the day. It doesn't fuss. It lets me be. Its what I need, when I need it.

I love you like that too. My love for you is like my love for my car. Except, there isn't any warranty, and now that I think about it, one of my tires has a slow leak. But damn, that car is hot.

Merry Christmas.

Ever since I was little girl, really - as early as I can remember - I wished for someone to love who would love me too. Even though I don't believe I was shown what real love could be like while I was growing up, in my heart I knew what it meant, however incapable I was to put it into words. I would literally wish on every "first star" I saw, I would pray for it at night. "please send me someone to love".

As a teenager, I could more clearly imagine what I wanted him to be like. He would be smart, someone I could talk to about anything going on, or come to for advice. He would be funny, someone to appreciate my quirkiness too. He would be strong enough to protect me and soft enough to hold me. He would never hurt me.

As a woman, I had to go through alot before I was ready to receive that someone I longed for for a lifetime. Maybe it was self imposed, I don't know. But finally.....you've come. The moment I saw you, I knew. If it had to be cheesy, I would say the clouds opened up and the sun shone down on your face. It was like arrows pointing down on you from every direction. But really, it was the slightest tug in my chest, the breath I missed for a second when I first looked in your eyes.

I don't care if you think that compared to what I had before, that of course you look like a price. Because to me, it's like I never really lived before I met you. Every second of my life was in preparation to meeting you. Every bit of goodness of you and every fault you have are the gifts I wished for. I wish now that I can hold on tight to it forever.

I love you always.

Ugly truths

I re-wrote this twice. I hope you didn't read the previous version.

"Why are the things that HE used to make you do, that traumatized you - are now things that turn you on?"

I knocked that one around in my head a long time. Here are some scenarios I ended up with.


When I met him, I felt sexually confident. Prior to that, I was desirable and I knew it, humbly. I had done some things, and I think with the right person, I would have grown even more, I would have matured in a healthy and acceptable way. But somehow during that time with him I shrank. He made me feel that I wasn't worth anything. And anything I did or had a desire to do was wrong.

I didn't respect him. I feared and loathed him along with loving him in a strange way. I felt disgusted with his dirty little secrets and desires. I felt like something was wrong with him. And for me to do the things he wanted to do would put me in the same category as him.

I did have secret fantasies. I fantasized about having sex out in the open. Maybe with the curtains open. But I couldn't tell him that. Because anything I did or said would be brought up later against me. I couldn't afford to give him any more ammunition. I held on tight to my good girl image. It gave me a little "something" to hold over him, my little holier than thou attitude. It was something he couldn't take away from me. Also it perpetuated our sick cycles. I was good, he was bad. Then later, I was wrong, he was right. In my sick mind, I also feared that the only reason he hadn't already killed me was because I was "so good". If he saw that I was any less than that, I suspect it would have been worse. I know, I still believe it had something to do with me. That somehow it was my fault.

I lost myself. For a long time. I took a good year to find myself. To allow myself to think and feel my own thoughts and emotions was exhilirating.

I tried to be around other men. I knew that I held some sort of chemistry for some, but I couldn't get it right. I still felt the need to be prudish and hold back.

When I met you, I felt overwhelmed with a desire I felt for no one else. I mean, yes, I could see a man and think "wow he is so hot" or even have some sort of vision of having sex with them but it all felt like some distant "thing" that was not real. First, I heard your voice and I wish I could explain to you how I felt. What you said was simple enough, but your tone, the way you laughed a little when you spoke....I felt there was dimension to you. I felt there was more to know. To be quite honest, I rarely cared about getting to know any other man that way. When I saw you, I knew. I knew I had to experience as much as possible about you. Do you see what I see, within yourself?

In the beginning, I had some major reservations about actually giving in to my desire of having sex with you. I felt totally inexperienced (despite all my teenage experience - my entire adult experience to that point was completely dysfunctional). You made me feel like it was ok to want things, to indulge in another person mutually. It took me a while to get over my feelings of no self worth, especially in the sex department. I hoped you couldn't see the inside of me. The sad, sick, battered parts. I felt if you did, you would agree with him. I do realize how sad that sounds.

You were so patient with me. Willing to overlook my anxieties and insecurities. For a long time, I couldn't tell if by doing that, you really cared, or if you were just passing the time with me.

What's happening now is that I respect you. And because I respect you, and you are not judging me or belittling me, I must actually be "ok". I know that I am still deriving self worth through the eyes of someone else. It's something I hope I can get over eventually. I'm lucky I have you. Whether you wanted the role/responsibilty or not, in a way, you're my hero. You're helping me heal. No wonder I love you so much.

So why are those things turn on's now? Because you let me be myself without fear. Everything looks pretty good when you have nothing to fear, when you see the promise of a loving patient heart in someone else.

This is how you remind me

Last night, I got bored with tv and like I sometimes do, I rolled over and started drifting off to sleep. Instead of our usual spanks on the butt and "hoe down" routine, I felt you touch my back, caress my hips...I was half asleep, so I just kinda rolled back over, not sure of what you were wanting me to do. Your voice was low, deep, close to my ear, "roll back over to where you were." I don't care how silly you might think it sounds, but your voice is sexy. Many times, I will play it back in my mind over and over, just for the pleasure of hearing the tone of it.

I rolled back over. You ran your hands over my body. Even over the curves that are the very least favorite part of me. But your touch carried me away to where I didn't care about anything. You pulled me close and we were perfect spoons, your body cradling mine like puzzle pieces. My head ended up in the crook of your arm. Your face nuzzling in my hair....The moment was so tender....

When you make love to me like that, its like you are doing it because I belong to you. Like my heart and body are yours for the taking, but not like you would ever do so without really meaning it. Then this morning, as we both walked out to our cars to leave for work, you walked all the way over to me to surprise me with a kiss. I don't know how I can love you more. Just when I think there's no more room in my heart for loving you, you do something like that and show me. You show me that beyond the security of sleeping next to you, of coming home to you every day, of kissing your lips hello and kissing your lips goodbye, that there lies between us something there are no words for....that something that makes me cry when I write about us, that makes my heart fly with happiness, so high I may never come down.

You left tonight, to be with your little boy who feels like crap, who may or may not be scared, but who will surely feel better knowing dad is there. And you remind me again, how you are the best man I have ever known and will ever love in my entire life.

Glimpses

I had a dream that we were old, sitting behind our house, looking out at the wildflowers and grass. "Honey, can I get you anything?" I asked. You didn't answer, but put your warm, wrinkled, still softer than mine hand on mine. I noticed there weren't any sparks or desire like we had in the beginning. There was more of a quiet peacefulness and comfort between us. For a second, I let my mind wander and I imagined that I would look over and you'd be gone and I got scared. But I turned, and you were still there, holding my hand.

You saw me looking at you and you said, "remember when I got my first wrinkle?" I looked at your face, with all the little lines and crevices that come with age.....I did, I did remember. "You still love me?" you asked.

I didn't answer, just leaned over and kissed your wrinkled face.

I woke up and my eyes welled up.