I Killed It.

Pretty sure that's what I did. It's magnificent, really. Blindingly brilliant. The brightest light you could ever see.

I let him fuck me at lunch.

Is that what I did? I'm still not sure.

It wasn't love though, that I'm pretty sure of. Or, at the very least, I saw it for what it has been all this time, finally.

Maybe that's why I wanted to go, to make sure I killed it. Finished it.

Isn't that what I said to him? "Sometimes I just wish we would do this to death - just get it over with, end it once and for all."

I think that's what I did. I let him do something that would end it for me. I gave him liberty and he accepted - because, ultimately, he doesn't love me. Not like that.

Good to know (or finally get).

For what it's worth, it was sweet - when it was sweet.

Good night, love. Or whatever your name is :)

I Love

With my heart, my mouth, my hands, my skin.

I am left with the energy of you lingering just before mouth and I want to reach out to it.

Your lips,  I want to kiss them.

Your skin,  I want to touch

Your body, I want to walk around and then to.

I want to feel your arms reach around my waist as you stand behind me. I want to feel that naturalness of being with you.

I want to crawl all over his body.

I want to be his lover. I want him...

In the bottom of my soul, that is all that is there: desire, want, love... for him.

Where Mental Real Estate is Slim

There's going to be a slew of writing now as I walk through this.

I just don't fucking know what or why I feel anything that I feel. I need to peel myself back from him when I have so much to say.

I told him, when he was saying that he meets other girls now (since us being together-ish) that they just never measure up. Since he's had this experience with me, other girls, closer to his age, seem empty and void. He said that he has never had a girl/woman give themselves completely to him - and I said, as I fiercely bit back tears at first,

[The Greek], I had a shit show of a life in the beginning, I experienced things that should have broken me, they should have destroyed my spirit... but they didn't. Instead, in order to survive all of it, my spirit got stronger and so much brighter - it shines like the sun in me because that experience didn't take me down. That's what you see, that's what you are attracted to, and I don't know how to be any other way.

Nor do I want to be.

Yes, I let him see all of my brightness. I let my heart shine. I opened my doors and windows.

But then, he makes comments during sex, such as, "You're so dirty..." like it's a good thing

and I realize that this is perhaps where I fucked up. I gave him that piece of me. That piece that I've often wondered where it comes from, does it stem from my natural sensuality or from my experience and trying to receive love for doing it the right way and being disrespectful to myself.

I don't think I am being disrespectful. I don't even think those things I do are dirty. I think they're intimate. I gave him that intimacy.

But I should't have given him that, I suppose. I shouldn't have trusted him with that, it was a big ask.

One of the last times I wrote, I asked the universe to show me what I need to know in this situation and I heard, "Let him go." That was during our 2 week break. And I thought I did, I thought I did enough. I guess not though, and here I am now, really having to let him go - like, having to have some self-respect kind of let him go. And when I ask the universe now to show me what I need to know in this situation... I hear, He will come back to you.

Again, that seems like something I would tell myself because it's what I want to hear and believe, but it has that sound to it, that outside of me voice sound.

And then, sure the voice says he will come back to you but they don't really say what I should do with that. Is that necessarily a good thing?

If he does come back, I suppose that is not something I need to know right now.

I don't know if I want him to come back, this is all a lot of drama.

He asked me, "did you not get satisfied?" and I said, "No, I didn't" and I wasn't sure in the moment why that was but having given it some thought I realize it is because he never gave all of himself to me or this.

He got all of me and sex. I got... sex (which, thumbs up and all), but I was still waiting for that piece of him.

To me we could have a fun and good fling and without withholding love and self, but he's not a place in his life where that makes sense. I just have to ask again, Universe, show me what I need to know in this situation.

I heard, "Wait."

For what it's worth.

In Other News

Once upon a time I was head over heels in love with a boy I went to school with. It was so obvious to me that we were fated. Finally, after high school, we dated, and it turned out it was all a big mistake.

It turned out that he was more like a brother to me. It ended poorly, we didn't talk for 10 years and even then you could count the sentences we traded.

In a recent turn of events, he's moving back to his hometown where I just so happen to live as well. We actually hung out last night and talked like we used to in the old days. I told him that I'm bored in life and want to do things, I said, "Let's do things!" and he agreed with the same enthusiasm.

It feels so good to have a male friend to do things with. Having a husband, you always have that male energy around and I like that. Not having one left me missing having guys to talk to.

I looked forward to having part of that with the Greek, just hanging out and doing fun things, but he read that as a relationship.

AND NOW... I have my friend back!!! We can do fun things and explore places and just be curious - and laugh and talk. I can't wait.

I am so happy to have my friend back. I missed him.

I wanted to go to the trestle with the Greek, I wanted to share that with him.

But I also really want to go to the damn trestle - so now I'm going to take Bryce with me.

Whatever

and it's over. Again.

Whatever. This is ridiculous.

He loves me, he said it, he cried even... but the little things like where I am in my life (at the end of it?) and where he is at his, my age, these factors stop him cold and he refuses to allow this to become more for him.

Fine. Good enough, I guess. Obviously he's the driver of his bus, seems like a fair decision.

But, jesus, I'm done with this drama (I'm pretty sure).

I am going to miss the hell out him, his touch, his smell, the sweetness between us - the lure.

But I gotta pack this shit up, I can't keep myself open to him like this anymore, he's too volatile of a soul right now. I need to respect that and let him go - because really, who is the adult here?

He ended it because he doesn't want what I want and he understands he's not being a good soul taking what I am giving without reciprocating in kind - emotionally and sexually. Seems pretty adult of him.

So, what's my fucking problem?

Full

I love him and he loves me.

But, as he notes, "it's not that kinda love, silly...."

He's right, it's not that kind of love. It's just a lovely love. A love love. A sweetness. A desire. A connection. A fit.

So, yeah, not that kind of love - the kind you make wedding plans, life plans, and project a future for. It's the kind of love that you can't avoid. The kind of love that sets fire to your body - a fire that smoulders and stirs your heart in ways you don't understand. The kind of love where I catch a glimpse of him sitting at his desk and some voice in my body thinks, ugh, I love him, because I know I can't stop this.

It's like it's coming from some other world.

The power was out at the husbands last night, you know, that twenty year relationship that I left almost a year ago now (and for the third time), so he came over here and watched a movie and spent the night. He didn't ask for sex (probably because I shot him down last time he asked), but even so, I felt the boundaries thicken. After twenty years of my fidelity belonging to him, it now belongs to someone else.

The Greek. I love him and he loves me.

It's him throwing around the love word. I feel it in my body and I hear it in my heart, but I don't say it.

After our two week break, it was him that said he missed me. Him that whispered in my ear that he loves fucking me, loves being inside of me... and that, although, it's "not that kind of love, silly" he does love me.

It is scary. Again, he admitted that he is scared and that he does push me away because he doesn't understand what he's doing and where this will all lead.

I'm scared, too. What he doesn't see yet is where my fear comes in.

He keeps me at an arms length, and what neither of us sees is that I do the same - it's just that his arm is longer than mine - so we haven't seen my scaredy-pants yet.

If he surrenders to this, I'm scared it will change it too much. I'm afraid we will ruin it.

But those times we've spent together outside of work, albeit small, have shown me differently. It all just came so naturally.

I loved being at his house, in his kitchen, and him walking up behind me and putting his arms around me as if we'd been doing this for years...

Sweet jesus. I'm in love.


via GIPHY

Not That I Am Counting...

Today marks one year since flirting turned into the next step. Tomorrow marks one year since we first kissed, since we had sex, since I was so surprised at how much he turned me on.

I say this only because I figured this out recently and sorta by accident and then wondered, in the way that silly girls do, what magical thing might happen tomorrow. I had already been planning to suggest he do the trestle with me on that Sunday without knowing that was the day. And I don't know why that one particular place is stuck in me to go with him there. My sci-fi brain suggests that there is some portal there.

But then I broke it off in order to stop the madness for me, and now he is far away in both mind and body.

I want him closer. I want him to say yes to whatever it is we are. I want him to devour me.

I want tomorrow to shine some light in the heart of this thing.

I miss him.