Libido’s gone wild

We had some amazing sex… several times in one day. It was unabashedly about being carnal and because we were home alone all day, it was spontaneous and fun. Yes, I’m talking about with my husband. He was cool and funny and very casual and I guess my hormones were set on high, after all I hadn’t had any in almost a week. That’s like dog years to me, well, so long as it’s sex I desire.

I didn’t have to fantasize, cause it was right there. His masculinity excited me as he took me feverishly without abandon. I like a dominant partner who perks up at my cues to be taken. It’s delicious. He knew my buttons and how far to push and he pushed them exquisitely, I shuddered past the edge.

And then like that, my libido was moderately satiated. I say moderately because I still fantasized about women for next few days and at night he would try to have sex with me like it was my duty. There was no ravishing or romancing. It was as if I was failing my part to please him sexually, and he has begun to let me know. Last night I had asked him if he could find me some antacids (ya know, for an upset stomach) and as he plops two into my hand he requests to be paid back in kind with a favor! You guess what kind. I am perplexed at his inability to understand that sex is not a form of repayment, nor am I a prostituting myself to please his insatiable appetite.

He also seems to not get that a long day and his pissy attitude at the end of it does not equal a horny wife. It just doesn’t. Add on top of it that my attraction lessens when I am home and constantly being badgered about sexual favors and unwanted  advances at inappropriate times. I feel like I am just his plaything. It’s incredible how quickly the state of affairs declines in just a few days time. He does not see it that way either. He balks at the fact that we only have sex when I want it. What he doesn’t realize is, he’d actually have to say no, for there to be a time he doesn’t want to have it. Ugh.

I love women and sex with women. I love the smell of them, the depth of their personalities and insight but sometimes I wonder if I am driven to them because putting up with shit like this is so carnal and masculine, I’m just tired of it. I hate being pawed at like some hooker who should put out cause he set the table or vaccuumed the fucking rug. “Wow. Oh, geeze thank you. How eva did I git through life without these small measures of love? I’s must now get on muh knees so’s I’s can suck thanks you proppaly masta!”

And so it begins again… I muster up the life within me to go home and put up with his shit until I gather more courage to call him out on it. So the circle goes on.

She mistakes seduction for love. Over and over again, her heart is broken.
~ Rebecka Eggers

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A country Marriage Equality song?!

Reblogged from Queer Landia:

Some of the better country I've heard recently!

Bwa ha ha ha! I really needed something like this. Thank you Queerlandia!

Homebound

I am flying back to my life in Texas. It’s hard to go back when all of my family is in New England. Sometimes I feel like I’m close to my in-laws but most of the time I squeeze in more than fit in. My family is incredibly supportive and giving while my in-laws tend to reserve that for emergency use only. For example, if we wanted to go on a vacation together, we would have to practically beg his family to take our kids. Whereas my family (mom, sister, aunts uncles etc…) would keep my kids for the weekend without fail. I miss being in New England. I miss my family and beautiful countryside. I miss the food, the coffee, the wicked smaht people and the smaht asses too. It’s so very gay friendly that I forget to hold back in front of my mom sometimes. The women are beautiful and don’t mind showing cleavage.

So i think about what it would be like to move back home. I wonder if I could actually be as “out” as I am so close to my family. The scary part is that my mom is very homophobic and would have an easier time if I told her I was leaving my husband for another man than if I said I was just gay and wanted to be free to be myself, alone. I don’t think that she could wrap her head around that. I think she would judge me harshly, questioning my ability to parent whilst exploring my gayness. Could/ Should I bring along the hubby to help me with the “transition” and then trap him here? Ugh. Cause that’s what it would be, a trap. I just hate that my mother is so far from my kids especially after my sister had her miscarriage. I feel at odds right now. In one hand I love her and New England but at the same time I really am finding a certain amount of freedom in Texas that I never knew existed. I could certainly move to Austin and live a pretty out and proud lifestyle if I went that way. I could also stay on this open marriage path and see where it takes me. (I’m already on it, so I’ll stay on it for a bit.) But then what? What do you do when you have such strong forces pulling you in two different directions? Go in a third direction?

He tells me how lucky he is EVERY DAY. He tells me that he loves me and that I am so beautiful EVERY DAY. Who walks away from that? It’s nearly impossible to imagine someone like that could happen along again. Not without some sort of crazy baggage. So I’m here on this soaring sled, flying home to someone who gives me more than I can return. My heart is still in Boston, trying to decide to get on the plane with me. Someone please tell it that the plane has already left.

Love you buckets…

Have you ever wondered why a relationship went south or perhaps why someone isn’t really what you want even though, by all appearances they should be just right for you? I have a theory on what the problem is and the way to recognize if they really ARE the one and it seems to really make sense.

My friend, Zoe, was explaining to me how she was dating this guy who seemed to be a pretty decent match but she felt that they were missing something. She was fine with him not being “THE ONE” but she was not fine with how their friendship was even progressing. He put her second in line to almost any other activity yet when they got together they truly enjoyed each others company. This went on for quite some time until Zoe got fed up with playing second fiddle to almost everything else he did. She was just flabbergasted that he was so aloof. She gave him a strong friendship and someone he could count on. He gave her an honest connection when he was present but lacked commitment on even a basic level.

I have other friends who also talk about seemingly “good” relationships that feel “off.” When we get into the discussion further, I usually find out that they are lacking something in the relationship, be it trust, making time for the other, or just being able to share honestly.

As I see it, we have a bucket for each person in our life and depending on the relationship, we expect that bucket to be filled with certain things. In turn we fill theirs with the expected actions, or at least we hope to unless we truly don’t care. For example, I have a bucket for my best friend and she has one for me. I fill her bucket by listening to her, lifting her spirits and making time to see her. I fill her bucket with love, joy, laughter, secrets and time. In turn, she fills mine with much the same. It’s a beautiful relationship that works. It would not work however if our buckets were not even. If I kept listening and lifting her up, yet she never heard a word I said or didn’t support me in my endeavors, the friendship would stall, my bucket would start to empty out, while hers would still get filled.

The same happens in love. The problem is we weigh all these items differently. If I give my husband sex, his bucket is almost full immediately, whereas if that is all I received from him, especially now, I would be incredibly unfulfilled, which has been the case. It’s not about what kind of sex or even how good it is, it’s about the weight of it’s worth in your heart. What gets difficult for me is how sometimes he really fills my bucket with such love, devotion and time that sex really doesn’t matter. while at other times, there is little else but sex. That will never be enough for me.

Make sure you surround yourself with people who want to fill yours up on a regular basis. They are the ones that keep you going in the darker times. Make sure you give back what you can to them as well. Just listening is one of the best “bucket fillers” there is. You will find that this works extremely well and promotes the best and strongest relationships, so long as the bucket is filled with positive and neutral stuff. Don’t get me wrong, it can be filled with deep dark secrets, but it’s the honesty that fills the bucket, not the secret itself.

If they refuse to fill you up, then they should be relegated to a cup and should only receive that much from you. These are usually the people that weave in and out of our lives instead of being permanent structures. Relationships usually fall away because the buckets get emptier and emptier on both sides until no one looks to the other for anything anymore.

So the bottom line is, when you look at the people in your life and wonder how you can solidify your relationship, look into your bucket and into theirs. Are they equal? Do you give out more or less? If you are getting less than what you are getting, can you ask for more? Is it a relationship where you can be honest enough to ask for more? Is is worth your time to fill their bucket so full if you are not getting all that you need? It is not greedy to feed your body, why would it be considered greedy to feed your soul? Just remember, the stuff you fill their bucket with is coming from inside of you and it will need to be replenished. Choose your relationships by how they fill your bucket. Keep them, by filling theirs.

 

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She tasted like candy

She tasted like candy. Her lips were like honey and her skin was like silk. How could I fight off such a beautiful creature? I was on a sugar high. She had talked about her open marriage and I talked about mine. We were in cahoots, so to speak. After the bar closed we had a few drinks and hung out. It was difficult to stay away from each other, our bodies were drawn together like two sides of a corset, pulled tight. She smelled so sweet and her hair kept tickling my nose. I wanted my hands all over her so I could memorize her body. I was caught up in my head for a bit, trying to figure out what to say to my husband, but then my hands would get lost wandering again and my thoughts would soon follow. Her kisses were intoxicating, as if they delivered some sort of spell, leading me further down the rabbit hole. I was captured the minute we touched and would not let her go until the potion wore off.

Time stood still and slipped by so fast. I held on to it as long as I could until we parted. I wanted more. I was already planning another moment stolen together. We fit so nicely. It wasn’t some sort of romantic love, it was pure, unadulterated enjoyment. We had some fantastic understanding that we brought each other a joy that was irreverent and addictive.  We were not complex in our feelings, as one would not have difficulty in understanding why they love chocolate or the taste of melting ice cream on their lips. Deliciousness. Pure and simple. Delightful.

Karma and Murphy both, like to get you when you’re not looking. Her husband was livid. I was now an honorary home-wrecker. Ugh. Really? My stomach tightened. I had to tell  my husband before the word fell upon him in some ugly way. I was frantic, calling friends for insight and help. Honesty won out by a landslide. He had given me permission, after all. I was afraid he was going to take it as her husband did. I was afraid the waves would come crashing down on me now. It was what I was hoping for right? To rock the boat? To stir the proverbial pot. I did it in a big fucking way. Now it was time to fess up.

So I told him. I spilled it. I kept some details out, mostly out of modesty. I felt kinda slutty and wasn’t sure how he’d take it. He practically gave me a high five. He asked many questions, obviously not turned off by my recent endeavor. I was incredibly relieved and half-surprised. He was very reassuring and I felt as if I could make sure it wasn’t going to rattle our relationship, this openess had a real chance at working. Except now I had lost the candy I had grown so fond of. She was now a forbidden fruit. He was unflinching in his acceptance and it made my venture a bittersweet success.

So now here I am, floating along, moving forward, making waves. Who knew that when I started making them, I’d knock someone else’s boat over. I just hope for their sake, that they can right their lives and keep sailing as well. I know that life is full of rough seas, but when it does get scary, having someone to hold on to, makes it so much safer. I had a good handful of close friends and a very supportive husband to see me through safely. I hope that her husband will eventually see that the storm is within him, and that her honesty  sailed her through. She thought that they were on the same page, but apparently not. Honesty may hurt, but it keeps the truth from suffocating. He may not have wanted to hear what she had to say, but at least she stepped up and owned it.

I hate to see it all go down like this, and I probably wouldn’t have done it if I had known her husband was so against it, but do I regret it? I don’t think so. I truly enjoyed every moment of it. It felt so right. I am more excited and now I am in a new stage with my husband, where he does truly get it. I jokingly tell him, he’s the one penis in the way of me being a lesbian. I guess he’s ok with it. So far I am.

Shit. Let’s make some more waves, but this time, can we please keep other husbands back on the shore?

a matter of life and love

I am in mourning over the tragedy that hit a city that I love dearly. I am in mourning over the loss of a close family member who took his life on Sunday. I am reeling at the death of a cousin who was claimed by preventable cervical cancer. All of these things, striking within a few months time. It is scary to see death wave it’s daunting hand so close and feel it’s breeze wash over your face. There is little to be done in those three instances. I cannot turn back the clock and undo what has been done. I must just move forward.
Life is an essence that we pull from daily. It fills the grass we walk on and runs the motor in the purring kitten in our lap. It swirls through us, electrified and so very real, yet you cannot see it, touch it, taste it or breathe it in. You just exist in it. And then one day, the candle is blown out. The fire is gone. The motor stops.

What do you fill your life with? I try to fill mine with beauty and love. I try to breathe in the smell of freshly mown grass, allergies be damned. I try to look at the world through my children’s eyes. I want to embrace it’s beauty and never forget to appreciate what a gift every day truly is. I cook food that is worth savoring, as if tomorrow might be my last. I hug my children every night and tell them I love them. I never let a moment escape me where I will let those I love, know how much they are worth to me. I do not want to leave this world with out making sure my life was worth the time. I want to pass each day feeling as if I made the world better in some way, for having been a part of it.

I know that my cousin is finally at peace and no longer in pain, so I cannot be angry or sad in her passing. Just hopeful that she got to live a life that filled her to the brim with happiness and love. William took his life on Saturday night for reasons that seemed inexcusably material. Perhaps he was just done with this life and needed to move on and start over. Perhaps he couldn’t learn what he needed to here. Hopefully he finds solace in his afterlife and realizes that door he took was completely unnecessary.  Fortunately, we both don’t believe in fiery brimstone shit as a result of a suicide. I think it’s more of a wash. They just didn’t learn what they were supposed to, so they can’t move on to a higher place until they do.

As for Boston, even through the smoke and shrapnel, the thing I found so lovely was that an amazing amount of people came in and helped those who were harmed. It was if a collective of souls became Gods arms and held them close to protect and comfort them. That is as close to religious as I will ever get, but I felt it that day and that feeling has been emanating ever since then. I think when good energy balls up, it truly does over power the bad. They may have done an awful thing to a crowd of finish-line winners and cheering spectators, but they could not win because the positivity superseded their malicious intentions.  I know that many people have been incredibly injured, but hopefully as they begin to heal, they find peace within the widespread love that held them close in the moments after the explosion. I hope they find forgiveness too. To hold on to anger keeps all wounds from completely healing.

Love is, after all, the balm for anything that ails us. The hard part is finding it within ourselves when we are lost and when we lose loved ones. Is it easier to languish in self pity or “what if’s” when really all of it is a self imposed punishment? Perhaps survivors guilt? I find that living fully is the only way to truly honor life. It sometimes is very difficult to live a completely honest and humble life. Both ego and love make it harder to navigate, but if you are able to, it is the life worth living. When it ends, when you reach the shores of the afterlife, you will turn back to those rough seas and know it was all worth it.

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Apathetic Me

ap·a·thy

/ˈæpəθi/ Show Spelled [ap-uh-thee]

noun, plural ap·a·thies.

1. absence or suppression of passion, emotion, or excitement.

2. lack of interest in or concern for things that others find moving or exciting.

3. Also, ap·a·thei·a, ap·a·thi·a /ˌæpəˈθiə/ Show Spelled [ap-uh-thee-uh] Show IPA . Stoicism. freedom from emotion of any kind.

 

There is something not brewing. Not even slightly percolating like I had hoped for. I have had a few encounters as of late that make me question what the hell I am doing, but yet, here I sit, doing nothing. I feel as if I am stuck in mud. You may or may not have noticed the disparity in time since my last entry. I haven’t blogged in almost a month. It’s pathetic. The funny part is, things are going rather smoothly, or perhaps too smoothly. Hence the ripple free, lackluster performance that is my life.

I have had a need, since I was very young, to be something great, to do things that have amazing creativity and flair. I would turn heads with my words and actions, through creativity, charity or opinion. It didn’t matter. Perhaps my ego needed to be fed, but honestly I think it had more to do with expelling all these incredible ideas out of my head. As my life as a teenager was full of angst as I assume almost all teenage lives are, it fueled my creativity and passion. I could write poetry anywhere, as my eyes spied a subject to detail. I stayed up to the wee hours of morning furiously painting as if the world would end the next day. It was a token of my devotion to my art. Bleary eyed the next morning I would suffer a late night hangover yet remain unfettered in my zest to keep going with each piece I started. My youth proved vital to my performance, something not so surprising to most I guess.

As life and all it’s daily druthers pulled me along, so did the bland net of apathy impound me. Preoccupied with pleasing others in my life, my creativity dulled and at times have completely crumbled. When I travel unaccompanied, to see my friends or to see my family, I start to see the world in color again and it scares the hell out of me. I hate that I feel so free without the constrains of motherhood or more so the stress of being a wife. I feel guilty that I like the freedom so much. I should be feeling this with my family but I don’t. I feel like I am chained to my life and permitted to go, so long as I please the master from time to time. Ugh, even saying that sounds awful. He’s not a bad guy at all. On the contrary, he has been pretty supportive in my “out-ness.” I even told him he was the only thing keeping me from being a lesbian, jokingly I’d say I’m just “one penis away from a life of lesbianism.” so long as I am throwing it to him, it doesn’t seem to matter much.
I feel like my life is just sputtering along. I am stuck in my own personal groundhog day where I walk a line between truth and happiness. So now I feel like I need to make it up to my husband somehow. He deserves someone who will really be present with him and I’m not really. So I give in to his constant desire for sex.

  I wonder when these seas will get rough, or if I am just too damn scared to ever make waves? Perhaps my bravery is waning and my backbone is weakening or that this easy ride is just too hard to get off of. Shit, I’m in a nice house, got two paid off vehicles, and live a somewhat comfy lifestyle. I’m not saying there are trips to Paris or fancy dinners at high end restaurants, but we want for little, really. Who wants to leave such a comfy thing? But as Bruce Lee once said,

“Do not pray for an easy life,
pray for the strength to endure a difficult one”

Who wants a life that has no climactic parts, good or bad? What song sounds good without the low notes? No sword is strong until it has been through the fire… and the list of other encouraging quotes of wisdom go on… But really, how can you appreciate life, unless it is fragile and irreplaceable? How can you taste sweet without knowing the bitter, or just bland?

I’ve met so many courageous people who have left their partners because they knew deep down inside, that they were gay. They left husbands and wives who were good people, because they KNEW in their hearts, like I do, that it’s not what will fill them completely, ever. The scary part is the follow through. To be alone in your decision to leave someone who genuinely loves you, that’s hard. It goes against all those stories you were told as a child. That you’ll live happily ever after so long as you love each other. But what if you love them, but it’s not that deep love, but more a concern of well-being and care? Where is that in Cinderella? I can even look past his flaws, cause he certainly has looked past mine, but the spark that once was there, has gone out on my side and I’m not sure if I can ever get it back. I’m not sure it was ever there. It seemed like it was more of an infatuation of the idea of love and marriage. He questions me a lot about the depth of my love and I too look inward with a bit of worry. I guess I should.

I have had people tell me that they are going through the same self discovery and I know how hard it is. It’s nearly  impossible to inflict such a difficult situation on ones self with the knowledge that the seas will erupt and life will forever be changed. On the other hand, the stagnation that comes with apathy is almost as suffocating. It may be difficult to move forward, to share honestly and be yourself, but the alternative is an internal eruption that is much more deadly. Fortunately, I have enough outlets where that isn’t the case with myself, but it still is very frustrating. The longing to live life fully pulls us forward, but it is really up to us how much we take it in and what we do with it. We can just let life happen to us or we can make it happen, it’s entirely up to us.

So did Cinderella end up happy with some dude who’s only requirement was a shoe size? Who knows, but at least she got the nerve to go to the party, damn the consequences.