Dancing Goddess; Life on the Dance Floor

For a very long time, parts of my life worked independently of the others.  Like the Dale Carnegie training of compartmentalization, I made my reality edited for TV, depending on the audience.  I feared that if any of the parts I keep on either side of the walls I constructed in my mind met, catastrophe would happen.  I’d lose friends.  My family would hate me for more than I fear they do.  I’d be alone.  

Some of my darkest, loneliest  times have come in a room full of people. Those on the outside not seeing the inner battle of thoughts I have with myself.  The feeling of not being worth it.  From the point I was to the point I am now took a harsh Master, and some closer than family friends, who got to see some of the aspects of the walls that carefully hide each thing it is constructed to hide.  It took a lot of heartache, it took a new way of thinking, and doing things the hard way.  

Forgive me, but you saw a layer.  You saw the awkward girl I can be when I’m nervous.  It was a very challenging day, and even a more challenging week.  Saturday will be 25 years for me since my mother’s passing, and in the past I’ve chosen to hide away this weekend, in many forms of self medication.  This year, I want to choose life.  I’m going to a country wedding for a close friend; who suspects the layers under the mask I show the world, and hints having her own walls for very good reason. Showing me a person that is feeling as damaged as I do, and finding someone who can not only look at what’s behind the wall, but brave it with her.  Seeing what they have, what they are for each other… It gives me hope.  

You saw the girl that wanted to contribute to the conversation.. and do it terribly.  I had to work at the outgoing; and all I feel is like saying “D'oh” at my attempt.  If I am awkward, it is because I’m attempting to invite you in a world I used to keep separate from a lot of people.  I like you.  I have a need to; you are the first in a while.  Someone I want to see layers.  

For the day on Saturday, I’ll have my very close friend watching me, helping me navigate through the social complexity of all groups and social anxiety I have.  What I could use is someone at the end of the day that would allow me to fall apart in front of them… and put me back together. Consider it an invitation to hold me close, and help me smile again.  

I’m waiting.

I KNEW He was Dangerous, when his beautiful eyes, stared deep into the crack in my wall, and was okay with what he saw.    
I knew he was Dangerous, when I saw his come fuck me smile, and then he showed me a tender part in his soul.  
I knew he was Dangerous, when his talk was both intelligent and sexy, leaving my mind stimulated, and sinfully lustful.  
I knew he was Dangerous, when I could feel his eyes on me.  Even when it was innocent, it would give me a full body shiver.  
I knew he was Dangerous, when I saw his look changed from friendly interest, to a bit of primal hunger; for it answered a similar call of my own.
I knew he was Dangerous, after he tasted my lips; his taste was of the finest wine, and I knew I wanted to get drunk.  
I knew he was Dangerous, when with his touch, my body became alive; it felt incredible… and tasted just as good.  
I knew he was Dangerous, as I told him caution.  I told him careful…. and allowed it anyway.  
Yes, he is very Dangerous… I’ll allow it.  

DLC July 27 2016

Before I knew about Fet, about the time of my divorce, I started on a dating site…. we’ll just say it’s one I’ve seen others from here on it, and they have seen me there.  I don’t just want kink all of the time.  In fact, it’s only a facet of what I want.  What I need.  Like anyone considering many dynamics, everyone has their own way of creating their sanctuary.  Mine might be found in a Vanilla Partner, willing to share me with others because they can’t provide all the needs.  While I’ll admit this may or may not be true… I was willing to give it a try.  As my friends and I will say, for Science.   

He looked…. really good on paper.  Some similar interests.  What sounded like a good stable job.  Maybe a tad awkward on the profile… but I can deal with awkward.  I deal with awkward on a daily basis.  Hell.. I AM AWKWARD.  It says he likes me.  Let’s make a move.. what could go wrong? 

About a few days of me leading the conversation, and feeling like it’s not flowing all too well, he asks me for a date.  This was kind of during a dry spell for me.  I have them.  So far he hasn’t said anything that offends me, because, I HAVE had those conversations or messages, where I’m thinking “Quest que Fuck?” because I have not initiated that kind of behavior.  I thought, “what the heck”, and set up a date with him.  My roommate encouraged this because, hey, it’s been a dry spell.   

 The first date was fine, several hours in the park.  A little weird though, usually a date consists of two people contributing to the conversation.  It felt very much to me a couch session, where he was the person who lays down on the couch, while I take notes.  Funny, I didn’t get paid for that session.  Unless you count what happens later.   

The craziest thing is, he admitted on his first time ever meeting me.. he had a foot fetish.  I don’t mind a foot fetish; I LOVE being touched.  When it’s the right person, it’s a very intimate act.  I’m self conscious about my feet; my heels crack terribly, and I don’t always choose to get my feet done.  If done wrong, my feet hurt within days, worse than leaving them cracked, because they crack again… and close to sensitive skin.  As I write this, my heels are quasi fresh from a recent pedicure… and they have stopped hurting since about three days ago.   

I thought, hey, I could do this.  While it’s not my own brand of fun, perhaps he’d be willing to enjoy one of mine…? What’s crazy about him admitting it, was me not admitting to my own fetishes.  I, the person who is very candid with many people, didn’t tell him my own dark desires.  It could be my submissive nature, until I feel comfortable with those I interact with, I find it hard to admit what I need.  It could be that I had felt that I intimidate guys around me, with all my candid talk, so I took the chance of not saying anything.  OR, and the one I think most likely, with my 20/20 vision of the past, I subconsciously realized his dynamic did not fit my needs.  His tab would not fit in my slot, because it’s not compatible.  Still, I decided to give him a try, and I went to his place, and got my feet rubbed.   

To a degree, it was a very lovely massage, but I didn’t feel the spark I get from interaction with others.  Maybe it was because I didn’t share my secret identity? For whatever reason, it just fell flat.   

Because I still was in a dry spell, I decided to fight this through, and try for date two.   Just before I left on my date that night, I told a friend to text me around a certain time, just to make sure I had an exit strategy, just in case I actually needed one.  I haven’t done that in ages, and didn’t make a plan of doing so normally, but I felt I needed to.  

I’m glad I did.   

We’re at his place.  He is making comments that were sounding really… off.  “We can share a plate, because we’ve swapped cooties.”  We sat in front of his TV to watch a show, and he goes to put his arm around me, which I have to admit, I enjoyed.  It’s not everyday a guy is willing to cuddle.  I put my head on his shoulder…. and then I shy him with his other hand, start to touch near his… oh my god.  Is he touching himself…. OH MY GOD, HE IS TOUCHING HIMSELF!  WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS THIS?! Thankfully, it wasn’t long after that I feel the vibration of a text come though.  I don’t care if it’s the friend or not, the person that just texted me is my hero!  

It’s my friend; they need my help.  Of course I’m never too busy to help them on a date night.  Oh look, I have to go now, help the friend with the thing.  You know.. the thing.  That’s making me cut this short.  I’ll talk to you soon.  I must go now.  

 About a week after that, my dry spell seemed to dissipate.  I was getting to know someone I wanted to know better, someone who was making me smile.  As I was going to visit my best friend I hear my notification tone of Yoda, letting me know I had a message from the dark side.  A text!  Is that… really??? Could it be??  Not reading the full name of the contact, I got excited.  Looked like it was someone I hadn’t heard from in ages!  I wonder how they where???  Oh, wait…. it’s not him, it’s HIM.  The guy who didn’t ask for an invite to rub himself?!  Oh….. 

I haven’t replied to his texts.  Or his Kik message.  I have since changed his contact name on my phone to add DO NOT ANSWER.  I know that no answer is not a good answer, not for one that was so nice.. up until he did something not invited.  

Now I know some people might ask, “Dee, why would you condemn him for doing something you would allow another guy to do on a date with you”, and it’s simple; I didn’t invite him to.  I did not ask for it, there was no negotiations on what could be done, no safe word to stop if I wanted it done.  It offended the Lady inside me.  It was as unwelcome as an unsolicited dick pic, as nails on the chalkboard is as what guys will say to girls when they have anonymity on their side.  

It taught me I could still be shocked by men who I deemed wouldn’t shock me.  Who “looked good on paper”.  And never, underestimate the power of a well timed text message. 

 DLC July 17 2016

The day we first kissed was the day our friendship got an expiration date. Sure, there are many infinite possibilities that could occur as a result of our union, but only one that would be the truth.
I over analyze it all, what is said, what is not, and learning behavior and actions. In hopes I am just paranoid…. until I’m right.
So instead of allowing my heart to know, I can’t try to imagine that you can be mine. That there will come a day, when this is no more.
I’ll try to enjoy that today, like there is no tomorrow, steal all the time that I can, to hell with no sleep, wring the joy out of each moment, for you never know your last, no regrets you say, while your heart says always….
It would be very easy to imagine the one, possible truth I wish for most, because that’s the one you stay in the most. To remain friends forever would be nice, but you had to kiss me and make me want to dream a short life.
DLC June 13 2016

I knew that if I was ever going to be part of a poly something, I’d have to have a primary. Someone at the end of the day to come home to. Someone who is my financial partner, the one I have the house with, kids if any…. and the one that I can bring to my traditional thinking family’s gatherings. It would bring another rift in my family to know I’m not a monogamous one partner lady. Maybe one day that will change, but my sister looked shocked when I said I do sleep with a few different guys on a regular basis. Thank god it wasn’t Dad that I said that in front of. I think his heart is safer for not knowing.
There are times in my hangouts with my Friends With Benefits that I had a random thought as to what our day to day life would be if we were more than just buddies who sleep together. Not all FWB’S mind you, only when I’m not distracted by something that prevents more thought than necessary.
My Former Master, the guy I had a quasi relationship/owned/whatever with, was one of those. I’d go grocery shopping, he’d make soup, bread, and other edible delights. I’d fully support the culinary adventures he would have, and enjoy the fruits of his labour. He is, and will always be, a resourceful genius. If it wasn’t for the bad things like his drug addiction or his assholishness, I would have been a happy girl.
I had such a moment last weekend. I didn’t want to go home after work right away last weekend because I was in a low state, so I texted my long time fwb to see what he was up to. He’s moving from one place to another, getting his old place ready for renters. I knew that if I visited, he’d keep me entertained with his “tinkering” around the house, having a few drinks along the way. If he was so inclined, maybe we’d have sex, but it certainly wasn’t a requirement.
He didn’t disappoint. He was getting the wood flooring in the stairs done, and he wanted my help. Several hours later, many drink and smoke breaks in between, and very creative swearing, the stairs were complete. And I had a moment. I could see it, us two, doing the primary thing. He’s an excellent cook, a requirement of mine, and I can tidy up behind him, he really needs that in his life. We were an excellent team, and as long as tasks weren’t terrible, I could enjoy helping him do what he wanted. He made me laugh; he helped me forget that I just had a shitastic week, and I was okay with losing sleep to hang out. And not have sex once. Could he be…. a soul partner?
And then that moment was gone. The realization of the one thing I need in my life for a soul partner; intimacy in the form of touch. For most of the guys I sleep with, we kiss, we touch in some fashion during sex. Some I cuddle with after; I get the skin to skin contact that’s not just a means to an end, but something worth more than the amount of orgasms I’ll get from them. Sure, I can get off by no touch, but it’s because they give me something else I value just as much; witty banter, sexy talk, something. My primary would be the person who saw me on a regular basis. I needed more than just the wit or sex. I needed to sleep beside them at night, I think. Hold their hand while driving at times, or just a simple touch, to know they are beside me. To me that is as intimate as touching my lady parts, and all of the men have done that. But what would set this one above all others would be to take my hand, just because.
And one thing he never will, is take my hand. Just because.
I visited him the next day, and we worked on the house more. Worked as a team. Had regular breaks and giggled as the beer flowed. Despite it being one of my favorite working weekends, it was also a heavy thought weekend.
I’m sitting now not at my desk, but at his place again. It’s an off weekend. Instead of it the city, it’s the home in the country. There’s a breeze coming through the gazebo, the sun is gorgeous. Tunes on his Bluetooth, him puttering around. From coffee to beer, I’m sitting, totally relaxed. If I had my laptop, I’d write on it, not caring about staying “plugged in”, and turn this phone off. I keep it on only for my paranoia of my family not being able to reach me should something happen, but I’m using it’s keyboard to type this. And admit… I’m having another primary moment. If only for the moment.
DLC June 11 2016.

It’s hard to remember what it was like when I was with my ex husband now. I know that there must have been some really good times with him.  I joke about the one time I almost kicked and broke the window in the back of the truck while he went down on me in our driveway, too horny to make it to the house.  While I wasn’t the slut I am today, I wasn’t exactly innocent.  Truth, once I met Bri, my first sexual awakening happened.  I actually enjoyed sex for a time with him.  

I actually enjoyed more with him than I had with the others before.  

And then it stopped.  Completely.  

It could have been the names he’d call me, like Piggy Pie or Spoiled Cunt.  Trust me, that never turned me on, and thanks to him, never will. I thought that I was going to for the rest of my life never want sex again with anyone.  I loved him, couldn’t see myself without him, but fuck did I want to hurt him the way he hurt me each time he said things.  It never occured to me that he wasn’t the person I’d be with for the rest of my life.  

The day he first called me a Spoiled Cunt, I bought my first vibrator.  

I wore out that one quickly.  

I bought a few more.  

Little did I realize that my best orgasms haven’t happened yet.  

The first time I realized that I felt things come alive again for me was with a coworker.  At first I thought he was an arrogant dick who knew he was hot.  What changed?  An intimate moment.  More intimate than taking off your clothes, more intimate than sex, the walls came down, and we saw each other in a way no one dared to look.  

It allowed me to see that the arrogance he portrayed at work was to cover what he felt beneath.  It was private, it was secret, and it was special.  I knew he liked me, he told me, just as I had told him.

One problem though, and this was a big one.  I was still with Bri.  

After the incident of my ex breaking our bedroom door because I was on the other side, I knew that this was too volatile  of a situation to remain in, and I was planning my exit strategy.  I knew that I would have to save and plan it carefully, as I was going to go from not needing to worry about money to making the money stretch.  The timing of the coworker was right in the middle of it all.  While I can honestly say he had no bearing on my decision to leave, he didn’t make it easy to stay and plan for as long as I did.  After our moment, he stayed away, letting me know he didn’t want to be the catalyst or a driving force in my decision to leave.  I didn’t understand that at the time why he would stay away; when you found someone you cared about needing help, shouldn’t you be by their side?

I didn’t understand then… but I understand now.  

It’s been nine and a half years since that young, naive lady went through what she did.  She left the ex, returned after he promised the moon, and left after some really big heartache, including the death of her brother.  She went through hell and back with another ex, dealt with some really heavy things, fell in love and fell in love some more. Another awakening, lots of heartache and a lot of self reflection. It’s hard to see the girl she once was, as that girl is no longer there.  

But I remember her.  

I was reminded of her in recent events.  I shared a very private moment with a friend of mine, someone in a million years I wouldn’t have considered had the depth of emotion lurking underneath the surface, a guarded person to be sure.  To feel the level of emotion, so similar to my own, my needs and desires echoed in someone I have known for a while was amazing, scary…..and sad.  I see them at the same edge of a cliff I once stood at, only their situation is different than my own.  

Yet do they know how rare it is to feel the spark of another person?  I can kiss, I can fuck, but to let down a closely guarded wall and feel peaceful…. it’s a gift.  

My decision was simple, in a manner of speaking compared to theirs, and I respect that life is not the black and white, logical and clinical way it looks on paper.  It’s never easy to see someone who has the decision in front of them, if they are self aware.  And it’s never easy to see someone who isn’t self aware that there is a decision that exists.  You only hope that one day you have the metaphorical balls to tell them that they need to choose, as their happiness is important too.  

DLC June 7 2016

Before I left my ex husband for the last time, we made our annual trip to Las Vegas on Halloween, my favorite Holiday/Event of the year.  Even as we were walking around Vegas that first night, I was dressed up in my costume that year; a badge that said, “Yes, this IS my costume.”

B and I had a timeshare that we went to every year in the city. We still have it together as of this day, though I haven’t gone since that last trip.  I already knew that this was going to be my last trip with him, as I planned on working on a way to be gone sometime early in the new year.  One last week sharing the same bed for the entire time.  Though he would be at the gambling table for most of our trip, I would still get to see him during the things we agreed to do together while on this trip.  I was going to see Phantom of the Opera again!  As an adult, I’ll be able to enjoy it!

We decided that first night, we wanted to see a new resort that had popped up at the southern part of the strip, closer to us than most of the other casinos that were there, aside from the one across our timeshare. It looked so nice, glass, wood and concrete together in such a stunning combination.  If I were to stay anywhere other than our timeshare in Vegas, it would be here.  

We chose out of the possible restaurants in the place the one that boasted it was a steakhouse. Our server, Bruno, was so helpful.  I was feeling slighty intimidated with the atmosphere.  He made my 24 ounce Porterhouse Steak experience from there one of my favorite moments of my trip.  Much to the embarassement of my ex, I got a pic of the guy, and to this day, it is in an album on Facebook to see.  

If there was something about my ex besides the way he made me feel when he used his tongue on me, which was rare, it was the way he knew steak, which I take rare.  He didn’t have anything negative to say about the place, which again, is equally rare.  

It did one thing; it made me appreciate great steak.  

Now that I am no longer his pushover wife, I have come to appreciate sex.  And realize that steak…. is alot like sex.  You get your steak from a place that’s does not know how to cook steak well… you get pretty awful steak.  Sure, it’s steak, but does it satisfy you in ways that another place can, and will?  

Think of the quality of food you get from McDonald’s.  The ingredients are crappy.  The service can be really crappy.  Yes, it feeds you… but does it make it fun?  Do you feel as satisfied from your time there as you do in a 5 star restaurant?  Do you want to spend the time there that you could be spending it doing something you want to do?  Probably not.  

Vegas style steak for me starts off getting off the guy. The higher they got off, the high from their quality of high can be amazing. Like a succubus I feel a shadow of it. It’s the appetizers. Stuffed mushroom caps. Getting the high, especially high adds to the meal, like your favorite vegetable and if you have it, a type of potato.  The getting me off is the steak, best juicy spiced and marinated just the way you like it. The quality of the high as a rest of that high is the dessert. And.. if you are fortunate to find someone out there who can not only get you off, but make you explode… that my captive audience is Mother Fucking Vegas style steak.  Since leaving the ex husband, I have been very fortunate to continue enjoying my own brand of Vegas style Steak… only I never leave the country.  And while it is rare that I have my Mother Fucking Vegas style Steak…. it does happen.  

Maybe for my 40^th… I’ll have my steak…. and eat it too.  

DLC

May 29, 2016

Nights where it is very… wet, do I remember the first time I met him.  When I saw his OK Cupid avatar like mine, I spent more than the normal time I used to spend, looking for the right profile to the right pic.  And when I found him… it wasn’t long before he sent me his first words: “Good afternoon.  I hope that you are having a marvelous day.  My day is going pretty good.”  He sounded articulate.. and I love an articulate man who knows how to use his tongue… and his other organs.  

In my contacts on my phone, he was dubbed, “Sir Knight”, for he always made me feel very… Lady like.  But I’m getting ahead of myself.  

It was a full week of OK Cupid messages, and texts by phone that I made him wait until I felt comfortable enough to go on a coffee date with him.  We met at a Tim’s, where we talked for hours.  It wasn’t until I in an argument took both his hands that I felt the current run through us…. and I knew I’d like to continue holding his hand for a while.  

For the rest of our time in the Tim’s, we held hands, feeling like that little piece of touch was becoming less and less satisfying to the demand for more contact.  I agreed that we needed to find a more… private place, but temporarily both places had reasons for not being ideal.  

He then suggested a place not far from his, overlooking a park and an open field.  It was now raining out.. maybe we’ll see thunder?  

As he headed to my car, he turns me around so I face him, my ass to my car door.  With one hand in my hair, and his body pushing my against the car door, he kisses my lips so thoroughly… to this day I feel so damn ready for more when I think about it.  Trying to grind against that bulge in his pants, I know that I won’t care if I ever see thunder at the spot he’s suggesting.. but sex in my car might be a challenge.  

I can tell you one or two embarrassing car stories from that spot…. but not that from that evening.  That evening was our first date, so body parts weren’t outside of that car.. that time, and clothes stayed on  that time as well.  

It had been a while since the last guy wanted to make out in a car… and so I ignored the first five texts from my former Master, who wasn’t yet my former Master.  When my hair felt as messy curly as his naturally Side Show Bob-esque hair, I stopped for air.  I checked my phone to find a very angry guy (who was missing his usual partner in crime, and a bit of sex), and I called it a day.  He was very convincing in trying to get me to come by his place, as it appeared the coast was clear.  And how I wanted to visit his place.  

I was half way to my Master’s, when I pulled aside and said that I needed to call it a night, I wasn’t feeling well.  And after another text, I turned around and went back to his place.  

After a few drinks, he was touching me again… **oh**.  Who knew I could scream like that?  And… **oh dear**.  I’ve left a wet spot or three.  I need to see him… **oh, wow**.  

There comes a point in the foreplay dance.. the look, the glance… where you know that you are about to pass into the point of no return, and have sex for the first time. Sometimes you come out the other side, more than satisfied at the connection you share… and hope for a repeat… and other times, you hope they lose your number, so you don’t have to talk to them again.

That look was given… and I responded in kind.  Being the gentleman he was, and not knowing me, he made more than sure I took a moment to really think if this would be the night I wanted to cross this barrier, as intoxicated as I was on the lust and a drink.  Being the Lady I am, it wasn’t anything I didn’t want.  

Sated after a steamy sexy time, we cuddled in the wet spot that was the bed.  Getting our clothes together to put back on, I realize my panties went missing somewhere in the exchange.  After checking every spot in the bedroom we hoped it would be, we looked in the one spot we didn’t want to find it; the doggy bed, and it was there.  Sometime in the midst of our passionate tangle of limbs, the dog found my very… wet panties, and carried them away, as a trophy.  After a laugh, and a promise that it would be in my very first story about him, if I ever mention him… I left his place as the sun rose in the east, commando, with my stolen panties in my purse.  While the guy, and his dog, don’t deserve a thought anymore from the way he ghosted out of my life, I still think about the best thunderstorm I ever endured with a guy… and hoped that one day I would have another go at steamy, wet, orgasms under a thundering sky.  

DLC May 25 2016

I’ve begun to notice that as I grow older, certain days have a particular… anniversary for me, and affect me in ways I have only begun to track. The first of said anniversaries for me that will always hold close was the one of my mother’s death, early August. I can tell you that I was a very innocent 12 year old; just returning from Day Camp and getting ice cream at the local snack shack. From one moment to the next, time froze for me and my younger sister, as our father told us, his heart breaking from having to tell his youngest daughters that their mother’s battle with cancer had come to an end that morning in the hospital. Talking about that day, and about her will always make me tear up, so is it any wonder that in the days leading around her death that I be any different? As I wipe the tears that go down my face as I think about this, I guess not.
As the years have gone by, there were some really great anniversaries for me to remember; the day I met my ex husband, the day of our wedding; the day my first niece was born. The day I was promoted to my current position at work. While some of these days are now bittersweet, and for good reason, not a year goes by without me remembering things about those days that make me feel. Laughter at the fact my exhusband wore the Nikki Six wig to look like a rock star, and looking goofy beside his friend, dressed as a monk. My drunken brother in law singing Stand by Me with the band I had, and commenting to my sisters, who didn’t have the heart to correct him, that he was happy to have gained more sister in laws, thinking he was now related to the two of them as well. Holding my niece for the first time, and thinking she was the most perfect baby I’ll ever know. Missing my mother on each and every single day, hoping she could see this from where she is now.
Two other days have meaning for me; the day I found out my brother had passed away, and a day very close to today. The day my brother passed away marks the day I realized I could no longer be with my ex husband, and while there was many months from that day to the day I actually left, it was the day I mark as the day I realized in order for me to be happy, I needed to leave, so that I didn’t wind up dying as early in life as my brother.
The anniversary that is coming up marks the day I lost something very dear to me. While there are other moments during this time just as significant as this one, for me it was the farewell to a hope, to a dream, to a fork in the road I will not travel. As the wound for this particular anniversary still feels fresh after the few years it’s been, I will keep the details for another time, because for me, the pain still hurts as though it’s new.
So if I don’t smile the normal goofy way I do, if I seem to obsess over minute details of something that should be a moment’s thought, it’s because I don’t want to think about the hurt. I don’t want to relive each and every tear, because it will open up feelings meant for another time.
And so I’ll thank the powers that be for allowing me two other significant anniversaries that I have marked on my calandar; it’s been several months since I have removed someone who enabled the dark path I went on as a result of this anniversary coming up. If he was in my life today, I wonder if I would have the courage to keep the path I’m going. The second anniversary marker I am grateful for is it will be the first anniversary of my divorce in exactly one month. That one alone was five years in the works, and I am glad to say that I hope to remember that day with bells on.

To the next person that walks into my life,

whether you are a Sir, a Madam, a Daddy, a Mommy,

Someone for the night, or wakes up to me in the morning,

To the Insert Your Name here,

Not all Pain shows up like a bruise on this hurt body,

And my smile hides the sad inside.  

I hear all the time as to how open I seem to be,

Because I talk so candidly about my exploits.  

How easy is it for me they say,

To have three guys ask me out on a Saturday

It’s easy to have sex, to fuck and chuck,

But it’s never easy for me to be intimate,

and if you have to ask the difference between the two,

Then you will never know the true me.  

Yes, it’s true, I am a sexual being,

Which intrigues but intimidates some of the men in my life.  

I fear I have been ruined for the white picket fence,

The core of me has been damaged for love.  

I find it easier to kneel before you,

Because I’d rather you never look in my eyes.  

The way to my heart is not through my vag,

If it was, it would have been trampled on long ago.  

To seduce me with sincerity, to mesmerize me with your mind,

To intrigue me with intelligence, you will captivate me with your caring.  

My heart for now is under lock, on my neck I wear the key.  

For the day one dares to look me in the eye,

For the one day I find my puzzle piece,

For the day someone comes to claim that key.  

So you see, Sir, Madam, Daddy, Mommy, insert your name right here,

Whether you are here for the night, or to wake up beside me doesn’t matter,

What matters is how you treat me when you are here.  

You can be as rough as we agree upon in the bedroom,

But please be gentle with my heart if you don’t wish to claim it,

For it’s the only one I have.  

Our first hellos was a conversation that seemed to last for days.  The topics as vast as the physical distance between us; from our interests to mutual agreement that Brazil was the place to go.  I knew from that moment you would leave a footprint on my heart. But I also knew that one day you would leave.  

No one can see the future, there are various possible versions that happen, based on the decisions we made in our everyday life.  While no one can know for certain which possibility is going to be reality, I do know that one day you will no longer have a footprint in my everyday life.  I see you slowly distance yourself.  I see it, and my inner debate of do I even try kicks into over drive, and I wonder if it’s too late.  

Until that morning, your opening of “you’re going to hate me…”

And quick like a bandaid, it was ripped off.  I tried to be graceful about it.  Because anything less would show you what it meant to me.  And you had no right to know anymore. Though I never saw you in person, you started to have a piece of my heart.  Even though there were things, needs you had that scared me, I wanted to be your everything.  Because you could be my everything.

And now we’re “friends”.  I know there is going to be a time where this will be the last goodbye.  We live in two different worlds.  Until that time, I intend on making every moment from our hellos to our goodbyes count.  If we ever talk again.

1. Personality. Your outward appearance doesn’t concern me. Sure, I can appreciate the common beauty of a smile, pretty face, but I’m looking for what’s on the inside. Are you a kind person? Are you funny? Your face, the shape of your body isn’t going to tell me. Your personality does. Sure, I can give you a list of attributes that I would love in an ideal partner, but to me it’s all about a spark that can’t be described in words. Your personality is going to do something for me, or it isn’t. Are you a boy, or are you a girl? Does it matter? Not one bit.
2. Intellectually. This doesn’t mean using words only found in the dictionary that are so upscure I need Google to figure them out. Can be about anything. I want to hear you talk passionately about something. Anything. Just capture me with your thoughts and make me hot.
3. Touch. I crave touch. Hold my hand. Touch my arm, rubbing or hand on arm. Caress my neck and play with my hair. Spoon me. Hold me. Innocent, lingering, soft, sensual, rough. I want it all.
4. Tease me. I want you to come up with ways to seduce, entice me. Send me a dirty text. Send me a pic of how you want me to dress, how hard you are if your a boy, tell me you’re wet if you’re a girl (within reason), what quote is turning you on. What song you want to play while we fuck. What you want to do to me, repeatedly. Or, whisper in my ear, making your breath on my neck give me goosebumps, how you want me. Feeling you hard against my back, my ass.
5. Play with me. I want the flirty banter. I want the smack on the ass when appropriate. I want you to dress up for me, like I’ll dress up for you. And when I dress for you, let me know you know I did. If I’m being bratty, it’s because I want to play. Set the tone, the pace… or let me.
6. Surrender. Allow me to submit to you, and in turn, submit to me. Understand I have wants, and needs, and tell me how I can fill yours. I want the pleasure and the pain, for one can’t exist entirely without the other. Your pleasure is one of the pleasures I want. I crave pleasures I hope you are open to, just I’ll be as open as I can to yours? Hair pulling? Check. Blow jobs? Sure. Just make sure we both get what we want. Because I like to use all there is when I can.

Think.
Before you speak.
Before you go.
Before you run.
Before you hide.

Say.
What needs to be said.
What you feel in your heart.
What you perceive from your observations.
What you’re afraid is the truth.

Let go.
Of the past.
Of your fear.
Of your hate.
Of your sorrow.

Just be.
In the moment.
In the arms of your beloved.
In your own head.
In your own heart.

And think.
Is this what you want.
Is this what you need.
Is this your truth.
Is this love.

Addiction, that buring yearning for the next hit, the next high, so close, just shy, the shaking quaking the next try, not quite the buzz so sky high, so then we look for the why, when never found, move onto the more buys…. it’s a cycle.  

They are the DJ.  The one that looks deep inside, and pulls the listener through the song, allowing them to feel what they need for feel.  Musical therapy if you will.  It allows the listener to pull out what’s needed to be looked at and dealt with in a timely manner; to let them know they are not alone, and to steal a moment of time that makes it safe for the listener.  Solace in a stormy world.  

I got a letter from my ex this morning.  For those in the know, YES THAT EX.  Despite being married for almost ten years (a week from today), and separated from the ass for almost five of those, the ex in prison is the one everyone knows.  Just kind of like my non significant other being known as the current, when it’s a lot more complicated than that.  

Since he vowed to stop talking to me last year, I haven’t heard much from him.  And you know what?  I’ve been more than okay with that.  I wouldn’t or couldn’t have said anything nice to him if that was the case.  I was dealing with my own stuff to have his complicate mine. He could have stayed away forever, and I would have been okay with that.  

Seeing the letter jarred me.  There will always be a part of me that believes I’m no better than that, than the ex who I will share that ten year anniversary, and no better than the non significant other.  And then there is another part of me who would like to never have him breathe the same air as me, or live anywhere close.  

I was contemplating what I was planning on saying to him when my roommate came home to let me know she saw the letter, and figured out it was HIM.  Which lead to uncomfortable talk.  What she did aside from worry about how he knew where she lived, to what my reaction was to this.  She knew that I wanted to respond back no, but that would still leave him in control of the situation.  It left the door opened if I said anything for him to guilt and beguile me.  But to not respond to his letter… that was a more powerful answer.  It meant you didn’t respond and give him the hope of more.  

It’s going to take more willpower than I know I have, but I think she’s right.  Let him realize I’m no longer at the mercy of his attention.  This is my answer; silence.  

23 years have passed since I’ve seen your lively face, yet not a day goes by that I don’t try to remember something of you, to keep the memory of you in my mind.  I only have faint memories now; of you playing the accordion in the front yard as us kids danced to your music.  You trying to kick one of us kids when we did something wrong, and accidentally hitting the leg of a chair that promptly broke, you telling me to bully someone back when we were talking about me getting bullied at school.  You going into my band teacher’s office and telling her what you thought of her giving me my first F on my report card, you working hard at doing night school with a very depressed daughter, of you in the hospital as Shauna and I came in with our competition medals in our costumes, so proud.  The night you told Shauna and I of the short time you had with us, and of the night before you left this world.  Most days I can think on some of those things with a smile, because they tell me you were a hard working mother, willing to go to bat for your children when they needed it, someone who appreciated music and life as much as I do, and someone who was someone I’m proud to call Mom. I only hope I carry on your life through mine with part of the grace you had.  

This year was especially hard, but you know, you were there beside me in spirit.  While I don’t understand all the lessons that were thrown at me this year, I know that they are there for a reason, and like all things, the good, the bad and the rest will come to pass. Thank you for the journey.  Just hope you don’t judge me too harshly if I screwed up; I can only make the decisions based on what I know, and without hearing your advice they have been my decision alone.  

I really wish I had the chance to feel those arms around me in a hug.  I wish for your advice and shoulder to cry on more times than I can count, but I wonder what your response would have been, haha.  If you have half the temper I have heard you have…. well, it’s not good to dwell on what could have been… but it would make life interesting to speculate, no?

I will promise you this; I will try harder than I have been.  I’ll be the fighter you need me to be, the daughter your husband deserves me to be, the Auntie your daughters and grand daughters hope me to be.  

I love you with all I can Mom.  I miss you and will see you again.  

Icarus

Standing on the edge of the sky, looking over the ledge,

Will my wings let me fly, Will my word be as good as my pledge?

And then I see you stand at my side, smiling that devilish smile.

And my neverousness goes out and hide, and I’m instantly beguile.

I take that first step, off to the deep abyus,

I feel your help, and it fills me with bliss.

Two as one we use your wings, and make our escape into the horizon,

I feel my heart begin to sing, and look towards the verizon.

I walk on clouds, I dance on air, basking in your warmth like the sun,

A breezy touch, hands in my hair, I feel your love, like you’re the one.

I’d give you my all, especially my heart, underlock and you hold the key,

It wasn’t until it was all torn apart, that my mind allowed me to see all there’s to see.

On the surface it cracks, underneath it chasms.

The feeling has gone, it’s what this thing lacks, and my heart, well it spasms.

One by one, it broke apart, the wings reduced it’s size,

I felt your essence depart, like I was no longer the prize.

And like I was plucked from the sky, I could no longer fly,

From love to not I ask you why, can all this be a pretty lie.

Like from space a rocket burn, oh when will I ever learn,

Despite the awful turn, I crave your touch, oh yes I yearn.

You my Icarus gave me light, you gave my wings the air in flight,

To always have you in my sight, for this I’d fight.

I know this is not what you desire, in your heart there’s another fire,

You’re in my heart, love never will retire, however for you I’ll be you’re liar.   

Like a seductive lover, you call to the interparts of me,

Beckoning me like the sinful devil you really are.

I feel it in the deepest core of me,

Penatraiting like a steel velvet glove.

If I could fight against you.. oh why would I want to?

The white flag goes up, and I willingly surrender.

My body aches for your passion,

and I succumb to your desire.

At first glance, at first kiss,

At first touch, at first thrust

I had no choice, no never at all,

I was meant to be your partner, I was meant to be your slave.

Use me as you will, for it’s your hands I crave,

What’s mine is yours, my body on yours,

I can’t say no to you… oh why would I want to?

Your wish is my command.

Your hands molded my curves,

As I shivered down my spine,

I saw the satisfaction in your eyes,

No I never had a choice, no never at all.