silentwaters: (silent)
I've been feeling a lot more loved by him lately.
We had a-mazing sex this morning, and you know, that's... really great and all (oh, it was great, let me tell you, I woke up so sore.....*huge grin*) but later, over breakfast, we had some lovely conversation as well and it's like... I get the feeling he digs my mind, respects me and appreciates that I'm kind of a unique person. He was talking about one of his exes, a girl who he has mentioned several times as very beautiful- a serious athlete in her teens, an adult entertainer when she grew up, and a body builder/gym-rat when he was with her and, so you know she must've had a bangin' body.
I've never seen a picture of her, but that doesn't matter. The point is, *he* thought she was beautiful, and our memories are comprised of our perceptions, so... *shrug*. (He's also explained that her beauty made her lazy both in bed and out of it, and she expected him to just magically be turned on by her mere presence, but she wasn't a very thoughtful lover or very good at the things he enjoys most.)

Anyway. Sometimes I feel intimidated by his past girlfriends, because they all sound pretty and successful and sweet and I wonder what I have that stacks up against any of them. And I know he's good-looking enough to get a really hot girl, so sometimes I wonder why the fuck he picked me out of a crowd, you know? And I spend a lot of time stressing that he is going to wake up one day and realize he could do better, and leave me.
Anyway, he was talking about this beautiful ex, and he said something to the effect of, "I mean she was a good looking girl, at least as beautiful as you. And also, she had been an athlete, so, you know... *shrug*" (He then went on to expound on how she kinda sucked at giving blowjobs and she just was overly... aggressive and dominant like "I bet I can make you come in 5 minutes" and he was like *eyeroll* 'oh honey, please... '... myself, I was thinking, who wants sex to be over in 5 minutes? Geeze, it's sex, it's supposed to be *fun*; I love to draw it out as long as possible!)

So, he was just nonchalantly talking while we ate, as if internal-monologuing aloud, not trying to impress me or flirt with me or anything. This just seemed to be a matter of fact in his mind... "At least as beautiful as you." The words rolled around in my mind like ocean waves.
Come on, I know he was being generous- she was probably like, 10 times as beautiful as me, realistically- but he didn't say it that way, he said it in a way that matter-of-factly indicated I actually represent some sort of... high standard of beauty in his mind.

Uhm, wait, what? o_o

As for the fact that she was traditionally hot and I'm...uhm, "thick", there are a lot of ways he could have phrased our physical difference, but I felt it was pretty smooth of him to find a statement that explained the difference between us while still allowing me my dignity, lol. I know I'm not an athlete, that's okay. I've got a big booty, and a rack to match, and he seems to like it (mmmwell, this morning he liked it...) so I'm... all for health and fitness improvement, but if he wants to fuck me good, then baby, I sure as hell am not letting my insecurities ruin the mood. They just get stuffed further in the back of my mind with every thrust of his thick hard cock in my wet pussy, and I try to let it go because, you know what? I can easily dig them out and worry about them again later, but right now, we're having sex, dammit, bad-self-image-demons Fuck Off!

Anyway. I don't know if I'm doing a very good job explaining what a sweet thing I felt this was for him to say, or how it amuses me that he was able to navigate a tricky subject with a smooth comment, whether it's 100% true, or he was just feeling close to me and feeling magnanimous in his speech.
I don't know. I don't care, it just made me pause and feel like, oh- wow, you think I'm... I mean, you- think *I* am... "beautiful"? For real? Like even in the same... category of beautiful as this supposedly gorgeous ex?
I don't know. My heart, it aches a little because my brain knows it can't be true and it dismisses this compliment out of hand. I'm not beautiful, I'm only just...'fairly not-hideous', maybe. Heck, my face might qualify as 'cute', maybe, on a good hair day.
But for some reason- people tell me sometimes that I am beautiful. One ex-suitor told me one time that I'm the most beautiful person he's ever met. (Mr. Man is not the first man to tell me I'm beautiful, he's just the last person I expect to flatter me with undue compliments). I just... I really don't see it, in the mirror.
It's got to be some combination of how my soul moves in this skin, or something. Something I can't see because I'm not outside myself.
I have to take their word for it.

I feel the same way about being "lovable". I don't think I'm lovable at all. I think I'm annoying, selfish, lazy, paranoid, and control-freakish, as well as messy, disorganized and undisciplined.
But for some reason a lot of people seem to love...me. But I don't see what's lovable about me at all so I feel like I constantly have to accept that people on average are not going to give a shit about me, and if anything better than that dynamic grows from there, then... great.
So I feel like I don't know if Mr. Man really loves me or not. He seems to prioritize things over and above love sometimes- like his hatred of this city, his professional malaise, his upwardly-mobile dissatisfaction with our status quo.

But just this last week, I was up working till like, 6 in the morning in my office. He went to bed long before me, and passed the fuck out. When I finally crept into bed, exhausted, he was laying in a way that made it hard for me to snuggle him... until I found that my fingers were close to his, both of our hands curved in such a way that it made it easy for our finger to interlace. All I did was smooth my fingers over his- and he instantly, in his sleep, opened his fingers to lace into mine, then closed/curled them around mine, squeezing my fingers firmly and locking my hand into his, and not letting go. He made a sort of happy grunt in his sleep, acknowledging my presence. And my eyes popped open and I stared at him in the dim dawn light, sleeping so perfectly, and my heart just...ached to watch his him breathe and sleep peacefully- his closed eyes, his expanding and contracting ribcage, his soft brown curls, his handsome nose, his warm, full lips... and for a moment- I loved everything about him so fiercely, and at the same time, I despaired so deeply that he would never love me as much as I love him, and the pain keened in my chest and I wondered how the fuck I could ever let myself fall so hard for another human being, with absolutely no assurance of reciprocation, without even the hope that this might succeed long enough to become "happily ever after" because I'm- what am I to him? I just, uhm, don't actually know, because he's not really very verbal about it, and he evades defining it (and I try not to press him). And besides, my demons whispered, I'm broken and fucked up and I'm Nothing, I'm worthless, why should he ever care about me, what the fuck is he doing in my life, clearly I'm just some mistake he's just pleased to be not-done-making yet, because he's like a dream to me, and I don't get to have 'nice things', I don't deserve it...

And then I felt his fingers warmly curling into mine, entwined in his sleep, inseparable, almost painful because he was not letting go- a subconscious welcome from his body to mine. And a saving hand, gripping me to keep me from falling deeper into that black-hole line of reasoning- he must love me. He must, right? Men don't just stay, unless they want to stay. Men don't just pull you in subconsciously in their sleep unless they subconsciously feel like you belong there, physically close.
Maybe the way he experiences love and the way I experience love are very different.
I highly doubt he's ever watched me sleeping in the moonlight as he falls asleep and has thought, wow, she's so perfect, how did she ever come into my life?
But maybe that's not 'love'- maybe that's... awe, or obsession, or something. Maybe I love him and then I over-worship him on top of that, and... maybe I don't need him to worship me back, or be "awed" by me, maybe he really just loves me and that's enough. maybe I just need to be cool with both of us having a baseline of trust and companionship and affection, and maybe that subconscious sense of "belonging" he seems to feel for me IS, in fact, his "love" for me. The fact that he's internalized my presence that way.
Or the fact that I seem to be some standard of "beautiful" in his mind, at all. Or the fact that he carted my ass back and forth to work for 6 months while I didn't have a car. Or the fact that he shags me properly into next Tuesday, then gets up to make us coffee and does the dishes (DOES THE FUCKING DISHES, YOU GUYS. You guiyiyys. Srsly. How hot is that? I don't think he knows how hot this is. It's not so much a submissive chores thing, as it is that I hate doing dishes so much, and I'm so relieved that he's saving me from them, I just want to run through the streets singing Deniece Williams' "Let's Hear It For The Boy" at the top of my lungs, then race home and throw him down on a bearskin rug for appreciation sex. But I digress.) You know, he's doing things. He's a doer. That's his... love language or whatever. I think.
So I shouldn't feel so insecure and on pins and needles about where we stand all the time.
Maybe he's been telling me all along.
silentwaters: (silent)
Ah, the amazing love we've made in the last 24 hours.
I was so exhausted by the time I showered and came to bed around 3:30 am last night. But even though he was dozing, he was waiting for me- showered & smelling all clean and fresh, his skin warm, his fuzzy chest all silky and pleasant to lay my cheek on - and he perked up and snuggled me close, beginning to run his hands lightly over my soft clean curves... then after a few tender moments, he surprised me by deftly rearranging himself down south and burying his face into me like a starving man...and that was just the beginning.
The first orgasm sort of hurt in the process of getting there. It's hard to describe. He was doing nothing wrong but it was difficult for me, even though I wanted it, because my tissues were sore already - I chalked it up to PMS- and I felt some emotional and physical resistance to the pleasure too- again, uncertain why. As I peaked, I broke into tears, and sobbed and sobbed for a few minutes, releasing a lot of stuff...and he let me cry and cling to him, and he didn't leave me, didn't let go, merely held me and gently caressed me while I came down...the second one was even more difficult to attain- emotionally I was riding a roller coaster and physically he was trying to make or help me 'squirt' I think but I've never done that before voluntarily, so it feels like I have to pee, and it's strange and hard to relax. I think he really wants it to happen for me though. He got a towel to put under me, and worked on me for a while, very patiently- and I was able to relax and get into it. Even so, I couldn't "squirt" for him when I came, but it was so intense when it happened, I jack-knifed up in a "V" clenching everything- my toes curled into his thighs, my hands gripping his head and shoulders, and then I fell back and broke into laughter and wild giggles, and he laughed with me and it was so good... and through the laughs sometimes I felt like crying again, but it wasn't anything bad about him or anything he was doing- I felt very loved by him and not hurt, but also I felt kind of crazy or too vulnerable or scared or in a whirlwind of feelings, or something- it was all emotional or physical pressure point stuff internally in me, I suppose- And still, he stayed with me through it all, reassuring, his fingers plunged deep, working, silently enticing me to come for him again, until I realized I was just too sore and raw and begged for mercy... he gently acquiesced & withdrew, leaving me be for a few moments.
I felt so spaced out... so empty, cleansed in a way.
Floating.
He came back and carefully laid down next to me, snuggling up and putting his arms around me. I wanted to reciprocate - he certainly deserved it for all that work- but it was hard to think about him and his pleasure, or even my own pleasure. It was as if a white noise signal played in my head, and I floated above my own body for a while, staring at the ceiling in the dark...
...until I felt his need pressing against me, and came back to myself, and him. I felt him hardening, and opened myself to him again- freely this time, letting him grip me and fill me with his earth-solid body.
We fucked like animals, then: wild creatures in our own night forest, rutting like we meant to populate the world, howling with pleasure, possibly waking the neighbors. He brought me to another orgasm fully buried deep in me, and this time, I recovered quickly, repositioning myself to return the kindness he had graciously given me at the start. Hungrily I took him into my wet mouth, and worked him to the point of meltdown with my tongue... when he finally came, kneeling on the bed, I rose up to pull him close to me, so he wouldn't fall over backwards, and we just embraced each other so tight, and so sweetly, covering each other with kisses...
Dawn was peeking through the windows when we finally passed out in each others arms.

I dreamed strange dreams- where I had dreams within my dream and woke up (in the dream) to describe them to him (in the primary dream).

I finally woke up around 11AM, and I'd been sleeping on his chest so hard my ear was sore.

I blinked my eyes open and gazed up at his handsome sleeping face.
Then I gazed back down at his sleeping form, his warm silky skin reflected in soft golden light. He looked so strong and youthful and healthy and... just... beautiful.
Just beautiful. I gazed at his strong muscled thighs. He had a lovely morning erection, also beautiful in the light, which made me smile sleepily. Incorrigible bastard. As if cumming wasn't the last thing he did before falling asleep.
I gazed at the slow rise and fall of his chest as he slept, ran my hand wonderingly again over his warm skin and soft curly man-hair.
And as I gazed at him quietly, I thought of all these things about him, and how they would change as he aged- his skin will lose collagen and get papery-thin. His hair will turn grey. His muscles will lose some tone. His ability to get or keep erections may fade.
His spine will compress and he will stand less tall. His handsome face will become grooved with creases...
And a queer, keening ache rose in my chest- it just hurt to be there in his arms in that moment. I thought about how all things will happen to him, and to me too, and yet- I felt like... I wished I could be there to see it.
Ohh.
Grow old with me.
please?

I ached and felt I would still love him with his grey hair and his wrinkles and thin skin and faded prowess... even so. even then. Especially then. With a lifetime of memories behind us, and his warm chest to still lay my tired head upon... I want to hear his heart still beating when I'm 93 and he's 100... I think no matter how many nights we have, I'm going to still always be wishing for one more night of comforting sleep with that beat under my ear...

Fuck.

I'm in this too deep.

Too fucking deep.

What am I going to do with myself when he wakes up one day and just doesn't want me anymore? I mean... Men get old and "distinguished". Women get old and... ugly, and invisible.
Ohh yeah. This is gonna end well.


Then he woke up, and rolled in toward me and gathered me up in his arms spooning me close, and I just about died of happiness. I guess today, he still wants me. For today, it's okay.
I felt him poking me with that lovely morning wood, his hands sleepily caressing my curves with increasing sentience... a huge smile spread across my face, and we picked up just where we left off last night...
silentwaters: (silent)
a week out of town did us both good.
It shocked him out of his funk and allowed him to let off steam. He calmed the fuck down and started being a lot nicer to me, more loving, more in tune. I guess he really is too weak to deal with this climate. It's a harsh place to be sure; sere, oven-hot, barren at first glance. He's too bound by his own hatred of it to ever see anything good, and it makes him a terrible person. You could argue that this is an immature way of facing challenges. Or you could argue that this is a challenge he doesn't have to choose to face, and he shouldn't be forced to face it because he's got his own right to live how he chooses.
It comes down to me being the malleable one. I'm open minded enough to face the challenge of living in almost any city. I have my preferences for not-snow (I did my time there) but... if it leaves him so unable to function, he should go.
And if I want to still be with him, I should go with him. I've no desire to be his jailer. Never wanted it to be like that. Ugh.

And I came to realize too, standing on the beach with him at sunset, our feet in the surf, pant cuffs soaked in salt water... Maybe I'm tired of it back here too. Maybe I want to live somewhere wetter and greener. It would be nice. I don't love it here because of the climate. I love it here because of the people and... yes, the spirit of the city. It's a unique and libertarian one. It's a fascinating kaleidoscope, to me. The whole spectrum of humanity splayed out before you, rich & poor, clean & dirty; highest of the high to the lowest of the low. I know the grime and corruption here does exist, and it is a major part of what he, and every hater, hates. But it doesn't bother me, because I know who I am and the main vices here don't hold much in the way of temptation for me. I have often fought against the darkness here; I've taken it as part of my life's work to be a light, and people in darkness need light. So I've loved this city because it needed me to. And for a long time, It loved me back.
But I'm not from around here. And it's a very sustain-yourself-or-become-dessicated kinda place.
Maybe I've put in enough time here. Maybe I deserve a break too.
I like greenery too. I like forests and plants. and Ocean.
I'll make friends and find God's work anywhere, I'm sure of that.

So let's go. My poor Love; I want him to stop having that trapped-animal look in his eyes. Besides, he's so beautiful when he smiles.

And, too, I would not want to raise kids here. He has two young girls to think about, and this is maybe the worst town in America to raise two healthy young women.
If we escaped and settled somewhere healthier, maybe... that will give them a place to go. Don't know how their mom will feel about it but most kids I know who grew up here hated the fuck out of it. If we provide an option, they might choose to come live with us themselves and we could get them out of here too.
That's some powerful motivation right there.


Anyway. Time to start culling my physical stuff so there will be less shit to move.
silentwaters: (silent)
meh. I feel like sometimes, there's no room for me.
I feel like I'm fairly essential to his life but he gives himself all the credit for anything good, and associates me with everything he's unhappy about in this town just because I like it here and he does not. Furthermore, while I've made plenty of room for his negative narrative and have gone to lengths to put myself in a state of acceptance of his life vector, he... pretty much can't, and won't, ever make an effort to hear or understand mine. If it's something he doesn't accept, we'll just end, just like that, and there won't be any effort made on his part to keep me. I sort think that would be a mistake, for his sake, really- I don't think he'll find someone like me again. I know I'm... unique. And I know I love and am here for him. I think he's absorbed that care and enjoyed the benefits of it, but sometimes I feel he is like black velvet, he's soothing to touch, but he's not reflecting anything back.
Other times I feel like he cares a lot and he subconsciously displays behaviors that indicate he assumes me as a partner at a deep level in his life... but... I don't know.
I should be up there sleeping with him right now but I'm writing this instead.
Go figure.
I am tired, and want to go sleep with him. Sleeping, like zzzz, not sex. Although I want that too but lately with his *ahem* "injury" it hasn't been possible. Maybe that's why we seem less connected lately, even though I feel like I'm making every effort to support his dreams.
I know on the surface that seems like a bad sign, but I really do love him and believe in him, and in "us", in our "good team"ness.
So I would really like to give him the benefit of the doubt, and not be the one to throw this all away on some stupid scintilla of butthurt neglect I'm feeling lately. Maybe it's just that the honeymoon is over and I need to decide if the day-to-day is worth it or if I need to give the "buh-bye" and go back to living my comfy, if lonely, single life - without his emo man-cloud hanging over my head.
Shit, guess I'm way less patient than I used to be in relationships.
Meh, being burned the fuck to the ground by someone you trust'll do that to ya.
Fuck, what if I'm just feeling paranoid and alone because of abandonment/relationship trust issues? Like, I'm usually a chill person that doesn't need constant ego strokes. I know what I am and what I'm not, whatever. But for some reason here I feel like, if he hasn't said I Love You to me in 3 weeks without me saying it first, or maybe just because he gets up in the middle of my talking to him to go sleep (even though it's 5 am and he's tired so there's a perfectly reasonable explanation for this) maybe he hates me and this is falling apart. I don't know. I think there are actual "bad signs" but there's also an admittedly good chance I could be freaking out over nothing.
I came to bed at 6 am last night after working all night on a client project, and he snuggled me right into the crook of his arm subconsciously, as if I belonged there in his sleep. That's a deep signal of attachment and affection, I think, for a man. He could just as easily pushed me away or grunted and rolled over, but he didn't.
Fuck, I am bad at reading boy-girl shit. I'm... this is only my 3rd serious relationship, really. I mean I know, I know I should know better by now but I tend to be loyal to... to a fault, you know? I only finally broke up with my last two exes when they far exceeded my threshold for "serious asshole" tolerance, proving to me that if my super-patient ass couldn't fucking deal with them anymore, then to the rest of the world, they must be a grade A, bonafide asshole and the world would probably understand why I left.
So like... is it bad that I don't want to wait to be fucked over this time? Can you blame me for being a little skittish?
I don't know. I don't think Mr. Man's intentions with me are bad or evil, I think he generally feels positive about me but... I think he values himself the highest, and is just overall... sort of self-centric and doesn't consider me much.
Which I mean. It would be nice to be in love with someone who's deeply in love with me but that's not how love works. It can be very one sided and the Lover has no choice with that really. I'd love him even if he despised me. We might not end up staying together if that were the case, but I'd still always think of him with care. Besides, I think he's got way too much fear & hate vibrating in him right now to live in a space of "Deep Love". It's too conflicting of a vibration. Even he was in love with me, I don't know if he'd recognize or admit it till long after I was gone. It makes me sad for him, more than anything, because here... he has the key to the gates of heaven in his hands, and all he can do is bitch about how bad earth sucks. I don't know. It's to the point where I'll move with him wherever he wants to go, because I'm fearless about the Universe taking me exactly where I need to go, but he believes so hard that he's going to find serendipity elsewhere, instead of within himself. But I don't want to lose him. So I'll follow him for now (Love's a good enough reason to take a journey, I guess), and hopefully be there for him when he finally absorbs the lesson that wherever you go, there you are. If our next city calms him the fuck down, and allows him to believe he's more at peace then... good! Who am I to argue? I can be happy anywhere, and he can't. So let's fucking go already. I'll make some concessions for your lack of zen, just for the love of god, stop bitching, and let me be happy about things I'm genuinely happy about without feeling the need to cut me down or make disparaging remarks. Understand where I've been and why I feel the way I do. You don't have to like it, or agree. Just understand. You've got to care about me and make space for me & my memories-- otherwise why the fuck are you in this relationship? What are you getting out of it, exactly, if you don't like me? I like you well enough, but you've got to stop tossing every happy thought back in my face like you're badmintoning shitballs. My life experiences have all been as valid and real as anyone's, and if they differ from yours, that's cool, but they don't matter any less, dig?
I need to feel... equally valued here. Especially when I work so fucking hard for both our sakes.
I calm down a lot and let a lot of shit roll off my back if I can just feel... accepted. I can extend a magnanimous amount of empathy. But when I don't feel accepted, I start to give less of a shit about others' opinions, and become loud and obnoxious to claim my space because I feel like I'm the only one who's looking out for me. And I know myself well enough that I recognize this feeling starting in the pit of my stomach, and I'm currently having to sublimate it. And that's a bad sign.

I'm gonna try and go calm down and sleep. Tired and cranky are not a good combination, ever.
silentwaters: (silent)
he's been pretty snuggly this last few days. He'll put his arm around me at night and hold my hand, and stuff. We haven't had sex in like almost 3 weeks, first because we were kind of fighting-not-fighting or whatever, then because I was on my period (yeyyy), and then just as I came off my period, he cut his Johnson shaving his pubes- I mean he was trimming them with scissors, and accidentally cut like a pinky-nail sized biopsy-esque flap of skin off his dick, which was visible on the scissor tines when he yanked them away. It was a deep gash, probably the whole top layer of epidermis came off, exposing the dermis beneath, poor guy. It was pretty angry red and weepy with blood / myoglobin at first. He's been kinda freaking out, because he thought maybe he should go to the emergency room or doctor and get stitches. However, neither of us have health care coverage right now. (I know, I know. I'm freelancing and he's looking for work and even though Obamacare says we gotta have it, our state's insurance exchange is super-fucked up right now, so bad that the company they hired to design the sign-up website got fired by the state itself. And we're honestly 'so broke we can't even pay attention', as my dad used to say. Even if we bought him coverage the day he injured himself, it would take like a month for the coverage to kick in and be active. But of course, guess what new expense we can't afford just jumped to the top of our To-Worry-About list? Well heyyy, let me just shoot some more imaginary dollars out my ass. Hang on. This'll only take a second.)

Of course he knows the dire state we're in, and that an emergency room visit costing thousands of dollars wasn't really ...uhm... I mean, not that we wouldn't go, if we had to. But treating it with basic nursing wound care as a first step was probably a prudent idea.

Luckily, I'm well versed in First Aid, as well as Medical Caretaking For Penises 101 (I mean, okay I'm not a doctor but during that whole cancer thing, I have to say, I got a little practice).

So I've been playing nurse for a couple of days, and he's been doing his best to suck it up and let "first aid" be good enough instead of stitches because we're poor, even though in his ideal world I'm sure we'd be totally on top of things in White Yuppie Loftland, as is our sociocultural destiny, and be able to take ourselves to the doctor anytime for a minimal co-pay and have a medical professional... handle it.

(I want all 2 of you who read these posts, plus whatever soulless google bot scans this content, to appreciate how very straight of a face I am keeping while typing this. I am totally refraining from snickering so hard. Are you appreciating it? See? See how I'm not even laughing, or even giggling out loud right now?)

...Heh, I said "handle it".
*rimshot*
*eyeroll*

Aaaanyway.
This is not to say that there's anything wrong with Being On Top Of Things, Being Insured, or being White and Professional. It's just above my pay grade right now. I'm working on it. Fuck.

We've both been keeping an eye on it, though I've tried really hard not to do suggestive things or play with it in a way that would give him an erection because he was really scared of pain and damage if/when that happened. (Buut, he popped morning wood a couple of times, and it's been painful, but okay. The bandaids got tight and uncomfortable, but honestly probably helped keep the skin tension in that spot relatively uniform.)
We just rinsed it with water/ sterilized it with hydrogen peroxide, applied pain-relieving antibiotic ointment to it, and covered it with anti-bacterial bandaids, changing the dressing several times a day. I've also... sniffed it a couple of times to make sure it smells "normal" and clean, not infected and weird. (The things I do for love.) (LOL okay real talk, I have put my *ahem* nose close to it enough times that I know and enjoy his natural "scent" so it was not a problem for me, and I would know if it smelled "different"/"bad" which would be time to really take him to a doctor regardless of future bills... anything that helps, you know?)

I have to say... basic wound care is basic wound care. This is the 3rd day, and it's looking a lot better. (Also, been making him take increased dosage of Vitamin C to boost healing.) Prognosis is good, no visible infection, I think it'll heal up pretty good without stitches and now he's a little more relaxed about it too.

It's too bad I don't own one of those white vinyl nurse outfits.
Not that we could use it right now anyway.
*begins concocting devious ways to eek some mileage out of this scenario later when he's fully healed*
>:-)

Anyway. I don't know if it's the no-sex and me still caring about his well-being thing, or if he thought about what I said the night I summoned all my courage to ask him if he still loved me, and begged him to tell me more often, or if he's trying to be less hateful about everything because he sees it gets me down, or what, but he's... you know, I can tell he's reaching out, and making an effort.

I really really want this to make everything okay. The truth is, it doesn't, though.
I guess some of my trust has been broken lately. I will say I'm willing to try and team-rebuild it with him, though.
And the good thing about having my trust broken is, it forces me to go back and rely on myself, and not be so... putty-in-his-hands or whatever. It forces me to remember it's only truly safe to rely on me, and to get what *I* want out of life, and not let other people's negative attitudes and whining and dicking around in circles of "no" and "I can't", derail me from the plans I had for mySELF. Even if those other people are people I love.
Because you know what? I'm a MOTHERFUCKING SURVIVOR, and I worked HARD for me to still be here, alive and kicking on this planet. It took some fucking effort, to commit to waking up every nightmarish day in that first 6 months after I found out my ex was a fucking adulterous child molesting felon, to choose not to commit suicide right after I watched 14 years of my life evaporate in the space of half-an-hour, and knew that I had, at that point, just irrevocably lost everything I lived and breathed for. I chose the painful way- to keep living. To smile even though I felt like I was spiritually disembowled and dragging my soul's entrails around everywhere with great effort. To attend every motherfucking court date, even though it's probably given me courtroom PTSD. To visit the loser in jail to watch over his arguably now-worthless life. And to pick up the shattered pieces of my soul, and to find new reasons to keep living without him.
*I* did that. Me. And I taught myself that I don't have to matter to other people in order to matter to myself. I can get by just fine on my own.
Broken trust reminds me of that.

Now I want this to work, with Mr. Man, I really really do. Still. And I have a soft spot for him and his effort is noticed and appreciated and reciprocated by me. I do feel warm fuzzy feelings when he snuggles me up or takes my hand...
But if it doesn't work out, you know what? I'm STILL gonna be okay. No, it won't be good for a while, but I'mma keep on living.
I'm just keeping that in the back of my mind for now.

self-esteem

Aug. 7th, 2014 03:35 am
silentwaters: (silent)
lowest it's been in ages.
I don't know what to do. I pretty much have been dragged down into an emotional pit where I don't feel good enough for anyone, I feel horrifically ugly, I feel taken for granted/invisible, unimportant, worthless, on shaky ground in my relationship... there's nothing about me I like or can believe in. Sometimes I really feel like Mr. Man doesn't love me at all, like... I know he enjoys the benefits of being with me, but sometimes I think... it's not me, myself, it's just... any nice girl with a wet pussy would do. I'm sure the housing and food is nice too. But if you can just walk away any time, if you don't need me in your life, if one troublesome personality flaw is enough to derail your care, if I have to pull the words "I love you" out of you... then this is too tenuous, and I am not safe, and I am not comforted.
He's been pretty nice to me these last couple of days. I've been pretty nice to him. He's expressed less hate around me- I think he finally realized his super negative attitude about living in this town is heavy for me to deal with- and God knows I am *trying* to do ANYthing I can to make him happier/comfier here or to support us both moving away and building a life elsewhere- but I sometimes think he'd prefer to just be alone.
Maybe he needs to be alone, maybe I was right when I told him in the first place that he should take some time to get to know himself, even though he protested. I know, I know he's got divorce fallout to deal with still, and I know he's a year of emotional healing behind me and my divorce process, even assuming we "heal" at the same rate, which would be silly to assume. I try to give him space, since he wanted to be with me so.
I just feel like... I don't know. Like I, me, the soul in this body- he just isn't sure about. He just isn't... as into this as he professed in the beginning.
I am; I am more so now that I allowed him to pass my threshold of trust- I gave him the keys to my kingdom, of course, like an idiot, but the truth is--
-the truth is...
I feel so worthless since my ex abandoned me for those other people... and I had to take a hard look in the mirror and realize what a monstrous creature I am and that he must have had some good reasons to close me out of his life- I mean I feel like he put me out on the garage sale table like an ugly chinese vase with a "free" sticker on it, and only realized what I was worth after I rolled off the edge and shattered.
and I knew that my heart has two modes- on, or off. It doesn't have a "friends with benefits" mode. it doesn't have a "casual NSA fuckbuddy" mode. It has a "I'm better off without the complication of you in my life" mode, or a "Security clearance passed, welcome to my inner sanctum" mode.
So I knew that by letting Mr. Man into my life, there was a good chance he'd fuck me (in the bad way) but I figured, hey, I've just come through not-in-fact-being-destroyed by the previous gent, what have I got to fear now? Worst case scenario, I shatter again. Then I writhe in pain for a while, then comes the part where I magically become my own broom and dustpan, and sweep myself into the furnace to re-melt down into some sort of whole thingy again.
But now I've been at this almost a year and by jove, there's... you know, there's something to this whole "partnership" and "daily life under the same roof" and "regular sex and hugs" and "sharing laughs about funny stuff" and "not being broken hearted all the time", Thing.
It's like... it's nice, you know?
Fuck. It's nice to be in a "relationship". I guess I've become a little addicted to the... wholesome fucking goodness or whatever.
People have told me I look great. I look happy. We look good together. etc.
But lately I feel like we're hitting that slump where romance can die, and see this is the part that I suck at because my last dude was about as romantic as a tree stump and I'm really really out of practice. So I'm not really sure what to do here to flirt or seduce or keep it fresh and sweet that he won't take as, "what are we, in junior high?"
Also- MONEY STRESS HELLA LIEK WHOA. We has it.
Which, as you might imagine, is a real dick-wilter.
Also, I'm fat and ugly and horrendous and how the fuck is he even attracted to me at all besides my amazing blowjobs? (which I will admit, he's complimented me on).
But I don't want to be just a blowjob-giver, even though I enjoy making him feel awesome, I'd like... to be an equal partner in sexual pleasure, but then I think, you stupid cow.
What else do you think he possibly wants from you? your gorgeous body? *snicker* *guffaw*
sure.
That's it.
Or maybe it's your awesome mind?
More likely, but he doesn't have to date you for that and he knows it.

I just have this image of me on my knees begging him, on the stairs, not to leave me. And him not even being able to reach down and touch my face or utter those 3 simple words I need to reassure me so badly, I'd do anything if only I could hear them and believe he meant them.
But he had to verbally pull away and twist the knife instead. I know he is in fear too. I know we're in between a rock and a hard place. But... fuck, man. I... need him like he needs... a paycheck, I guess. Since that rates higher than me right now. Even though I'm doing everything I can to stretch my thin little budget to cover us both.
I know it's not enough, and I know he likes the finer things in life, and I know he looks down on me with contempt even while he wants to believe in me.
And when he doesn't believe in me and doesn't love me, I can't believe in myself or love myself.
And that's really fucked up, because I'm not supposed to have given anyone that kind of power.
So I have to take it back some how, reclaim it, pull away from him a bit and come back to myself. Which sucks, because I just want him to hold me and lie to me and tell me he loves me and it will be okay.
And maybe it won't be a lie and maybe we'll make it big and maybe someday I'll be good enough and rich enough and have my shit together enough for him. But maybe it'll be too late. And what then?
I can't talk to him about this. He doesn't like to hear that I'm such an insecure person. He looks down on people with emotional problems, so I try to keep it copasetic for him even when I'm burning up inside. I mean- what he doesn't get yet is that I'm different from other insecure bitches - maybe bad ex-girlfriends he's suffered, or maybe his emotional black hole mother that exhausted the fuck out of him-- I'm different, in that even though my self-worth can be through the flooboards, lowest of the low- I never, never try to make anyone else compensate for my shortcomings. I try not to fish for compliments because I know there's a lot wrong with me; probably 5 bad things for every 1 good. I know my ass is fat. I'm not going to ask you if I 'look fat in this'. I already know. I already know I'm poor and wearing 5 year old thrift store t-shirts and not winning any fashion awards. I know. I'm not here to make anyone else feel bad about it. You know I try to have a sense of humor, laugh about it, deflect attention to other people, stay positive and give props to what's awesome about them because there's always something cool about them if I try to find it, and I don't have to be the focus. I try not to be passive aggressive or whiny. Because I understand I don't even MATTER. Nobody cares, and nobody SHOULD care, about me. That's not something I would ever tell people because I know they'd be horrified to hear it but it's just something I accept as a baseline. People only care about themselves, not you. Understand that, and you understand "how to win friends and influence people". Understand- you're a tiny human and you are insignificant. Your pain and suffering are insignificant. Your lifespan and all the experiences it contains- insignificant. This is true even for important people, so how much less significant am I than any of *them*? So no one deserves to be subject to my petty woes, my heartaches. I have the misfortune to continue to exist, though, and to be trapped in the subjective prison of my own skin and soul, so... emotions can affect me, I still suffer pain like anyone. I just understand in the greater scheme of things, how small I really am. And I lock my inner demons deep behind my smile and desperately wait for any little kindness to be thrown my way so that they can gnaw it to pieces and fall asleep in a food coma for a while and give me a few moments' peace. But how can I explain, how can I communicate how badly... I ... how much it means to me, any time he smiles at me, or touches me softly, or... pulls me close... how his kindesses to me are the very lifeblood of my ability to tell my demons to fuck off. That SOMEbody loves me and they should shut up and let me sleep?
How can I admit to him that I'm really that pathetic inside?
That He's the best, best thing that ever took my invisible self by surprise and made my comatose heart find a reason to beat again and that he's so important to me that it makes me tremble now to think of losing him... How can I tell him what he makes me feel... with a single look, a single caress... how I hang on his every opinion of me... each appraising look... how far I've let him modify me already, joyfully, willingly, because it was... better, I became... better for it, objectively, I did, I admit... but that sometimes... he goes too far and cuts me so deep and I'm still resonating with pain days after we've "reconciled" because I'm so desperate for him to love me again that I'll take anything, any sign of "alrightness" even though what SHOULD be happening is that he should apologize for taking me for granted and having the audacity to threaten me and let me twist- it's too cruel. And okay I'm not rich, beautiful or a neat freak but I am a devoted, faithful, helpful woman. A good cook, a good conversationalist, a good lay, a good friend to hang with, laid back, accepting, patient, kind. You know I have... I have some Things. Things that I understand make me...not necessarily important, but I guess sort of useful & rare, as far as women/girlfriends/wives go, whatever. He's been with so many bitchy women. Maybe that's my problem, maybe I'm not bitchy enough to keep him 'in line' or whatever. I don't try to bring up our financial imbalance, because in my mind, love covers it all, and I know his fruitless work search has left him extremely frustrated. I know.
But he pursued me, you know. He treated me like I was such a relief from his prior troubles. I didn't ask him to overlook my shortcomings, I was upfront about all of them. But seeing as how I've pretty much opened the gates and he came right in and made himself at home... and I've done my best to provide a good success-incubator here... for him to then start judging like he doesn't eat from the same wallet I do, like he doesn't get places on the same gas money I do, to act like I'm just... crazy or scary or immature now, and to go behind my back to talk to other people about it... It's too cruel, and one of these days I'm afraid he's going to go too far and I'm simply going to fall into the abyss over it and cut my own cord on the way down so I don't pull him with me.
He'll simply be left standing at the precipice of a cliff to contemplate the true worth of his pride.

That's not a threat, just a sad possibility I see, one I hope never happens.
But maybe hope is dumb.
But god, when he's good to me... he's so good. He can make me feel safe and warm... his heartbeat helps me fall asleep... his arm around me makes me want to cry with happiness, and fuck, I know it isn't safe to give someone that much control or allow someone to jar your emotional state so wildly, and I know, nobody can affect you unless you let them, and you're supposed to love yourself and assess your own worth from within and all that, blah, blah, blah, I KNOW, okay? Fuck. me. I know.
but... I starved so long and it feel so amazing to be in the arms of anyone at all, much less the amazing him. With his perfect warm hands and his perfect strong bicep and perfect silky curly chest hair that I love to lay my cheek on like he's my teddy bear and fall asleep to the rhythm of his breathing. *sigh* yeah. I'm really that pathetic. Goddammit. I hate myself even more than usual right now.
This is really bumming me out because I love to love him and right now my sweet innocent heart is feeling... unsettled and unsure if it's okay to do so. We "reconciled" as I said before but really ...I still feel unsure, I feel like a bird trying to decide if now is the time to flutter away in panic. Or if he's calm enough to land on his outstretched hand and stay there.
...What I'm watching for is his steady outstretched hand. That's how I'll know, I guess.

ugh

Jul. 12th, 2014 07:56 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
It's been a weird couple of days. Thursday night I DJ'ed with my partner and we made a lot of people happy, then almost got in a fight with a dear friend/the promoter over him being butthurt, but I decided to suck it up and be the bigger person and not pound his ego into the ground. He made a big deal over me supposedly telling, rather than asking, him to DJ this night. I believe I asked him, once in person (which he ignored/dropped all discussion of), then two more times, through his resident DJ (My boyfriend) and oh- the guy who's birthday party it was, who did a CRAZY amount of work to make this party a success, and is a really super sweet guy, and who *personally* asked me to DJ said party. Silly me, I assumed, being that the birthday boy/host of the night wanted me to DJ, and that this promoter had not one, not two, but 3 chances to object or say something, and didn't, that it was cool with him.

Okay okay, professional ego aside, I did hear him out, as a friend. I did try to listen and open my heart, and humble myself to hear his message or learn this lesson. I don't want to be a bad friend and I don't generally go around intending to screw people over. I did suck it up and apologize to him for "telling, not asking". I understand that's a respect thing, and this time around, for this brief moment in history, this little night is HIS little night, and I owed him the courtesy of direct communication. Okay. My bad. I thought I had given him that (I don't know, maybe the talking about it TO HIS FACE in his house might have been a discussion-worthy moment? Like maybe if he objected to the way I said it, he could have addressed the perceived lack of respect right then instead of waiting another two weeks, until the night was already over, even?).
He apparently did not agree or did not feel "asked enough" or that I had given proper deference to him. (I told him at his house that the birthday boy asked me to spin, and I was excited to fulfill his request. No, I didn't then look at him and go "gee boss, is it okay with YOOOOU tooo?" and that was what he had a problem with, because he felt I "told" him rather than "asked" him. Okay. Technically? True. But come on, man. If you have a problem with it, fucking say something, okay? I wasn't going to bite his head off. He could have jabbed at me in that moment and I would have corrected myself and we would have laughed about it and moved right the fuck on, and trust me, neither of us are too shy to make fun of each other)
But in the end it is his perception of events that mattered.
And I actually do still value our long, almost 6 year friendship above and beyond any petty nightlife dramas.
So I told him I was sorry.
In fact I apologized several times in the course of our conversation. I let him know it wouldn't happen again, because it sure as hell won't (ha- he'll be lucky if I ever bother to offer to DJ there again after this).

He waited till the end of the goddamn night, and used the pretense of putting cash in my hand for my and my boyfriend's payment, to bring up his aggro over this, which was the first I'd heard of it all night, so I tried to give him his cash BACK, 3 times, but he wouldn't hear of it, and kept shoving the money back into my hands. He really just wanted to bitch at me some more. My sincere apologies over not granting him the respect he was due also seemed to fall on deaf ears, because he just wanted to bitch at me some more, and because he was drunk and determined to overstate his case.

He kept harping on the fact that I've done this THREE TIMES. Well, yes, I have guest DJed this night 3 times, but let's review:

-1st time: It was my boyfriend's birthday and he is the resident DJ and asked me personally to spin with him and oh- oh- that's right- my boyfriend supplies ALL OF THE DJ GEAR so without him they don't really have a night to run
-2nd time: The promoter and his girlfriend overbooked themselves with a freelance performance gig, and my boyfriend was out of town on a family emergency, so they called and BEGGED me to save them - so I brought all MY gear, set up the night, and ran it till they got there, well after midnight, as a courtesy
-3rd time: it was this beloved socialite boy's Big Themey B-Day Bash and HE was given promotional carte blanche for weeks preceding the event, and he personally asked me to DJ his night and since I love this boy and he's been an amazing friend, I'd do anything he asked of me as a birthday present if it was in my power to give it, plus my boyfriend and I have THE BEST collection of this particular kind of music he requested on vinyl, no less

So all 3 times I've DJ'd there I haven't asked the promoter to spin because *I WAS ASKED* myself! Maybe it would have been better for me to maintain a "Fuck your night, I'm NEVER DJing there" policy, but I just can't bring myself to be that much of a cunt, sorry.

So how did the party go? Well, my bf & I killed it. All night. It was amazing. The birthday boy promoted the fuck out of my guest appearance, and it really did seem to bring people in the door. Their attendance was easily double (or more) of an average night. Everyone dressed up. Everyone was in a good mood. Everyone danced their asses off and complimented the fuck out of the music. Everyone, except the promoter and his girlfriend, who both usually DJ their own night switching out with my boyfriend, but didn't for this special event, because they just don't have the collection of music me and my man do, and we all tacitly seemed to agree that me and my boyfriend were the right DJ team for the job. Overall, it couldn't have gone much better. Smashing success. The birthday boy was beaming and satisfied at the end of the night. That's all I want. That's all my little DJ heart lives for.

Not only that, but -and this is going to sound arrogant but I don't care- historically speaking, his crowd is MY (and all the crews I've been a part of's) crowd. That venue is MY (and all the crews I've been a part of's) venue. That scene EXISTS because of the effort I and many other hard working DJs and promoters have put into this town's underground for YEARS. A lot of those friends and couples that come out met each other on my watch. Fell in love to songs I was playing. I've bought them drinks and played their requests and held their hair out of the toilets while they puked... I've been a scene big sister/mother and DJ to those people, in THAT venue, longer than he's been running events in this town. I've been a resident DJ there several times under several crews. The people there know me, love, me, and want me. They are sad that I don't regularly DJ his night. I don't regularly DJ his night because he started it at a bad time, out of a bad combination of boredom and ego, usurping a traditional night, time, place, and theme from more established crews in this town (one of which was my former night/crew/residency) right after we vacated that venue for unrelated professional reasons. Sure, technically it's all fair game in the nightlife business, but it was a shitty thing to do, and he damn well knew it was a vulture move, and he sure didn't "ask" me first, he just "told " me, "I'm doing this." And his night very much hurt *my* night's numbers at our new venue because he capitalized on our market demographic - patrons who were habitually used to the old place.
All I've gotten for months is grief from the confused and saddened patrons. His night hasn't done very well and it has a theme-identity crisis. He never had a clear direction to go with it and his marketing's been misleading. His numbers haven't been that great. (Quelle surprise.) In fact, the split scene was a major contributing factor to the eventual death of my crew's new night. There were several other factors which could be the topic of another post entirely, but the truth is, NObody's night was doing well since he opened, and a lot of people came to me with grief about it. But all along, I officially remained neutral. I even actually spoke up for him and defended his right to free commerce behind closed doors.

Oh, also? He "took" my boyfriend as his resident DJ after I refused to be his resident DJ, out of spite, because I slapped his ego down the first time when he told me he was thinking of starting this new night and I had the audacity to be like, "really? now? there? why? But you don't even like this scene. And you don't have any DJ equipment. Oh, and thanks for starting a bastardized hybrid new thing in my old home which I can't be a part of because it clearly cannibalizes/competes with the Established Thing I'm already deeply involved in." He didn't "ask" me about that either. He "told" me: "I'm taking your boy." (verbatim.)
Now "my boy" is a grown-ass man and can live as he pleases. I'm not going to tell him what to do. He can't be "taken" anywhere unless he wants to go. But it was spiteful, or disrespectful even, of this promoter to put it to me that way. And my boyfriend didn't really know the stakes when this promoter asked him to guest DJ (Oh, he started out as a guest DJ, then quickly became the lynchpin resident because this promoter has no DJ gear of his own and "my boy" provides it, go figure), and he was looking for an opportunity to get back into DJing, and he was so... genuine and innocent about all this, and it's impossible to really explain without sounding like a super-naggy bitch, which he doesn't deserve. I would feel like I'm kicking a puppy.
So I've been forced to be supportive of his choice of my BF as resident DJ, because I love my boyfriend and he *IS* musically talented and doesn't deserve to be caught in the middle of drama that was years in the making, and this promoter knows that, and knows I'm a good woman who stands by her man, which makes it a doubly shitty/dirty thing to do. Like, "Fine, you won't support my ego theater or work for me? I'll take your man one night a week then, and squeeze you to support my night anyway, and you can't say shit about it, can you? Haha."

Well, I've stuck to my guns for the most part. I come out to support my boyfriend when I fucking feel like it or when he asks me to, and I don't go out at all when I have other things to do. The rare occasions when I do show up, the promoter can't resist making stupid digs or remarks several times a night about "oh, nice to see you out, guess you couldn't stay away, blah blah", and that just makes me more determined to find better things to do than show up there, and guess what- it ain't difficult. I don't miss the smoke, the alcohol, the stalkers, the hearing damage, the sleep loss, or the drama. I don't support what he's doing, or the shitty way he's gone about it, but the real people losing out here are my sincere fans/friends, and I *do* miss *them*, really I do. Look... I'm fairly hard on myself, have loads of insecurities, and don't imagine I'm any sort of celebrity, but the truth is, I've been a DJ for almost 7 years here, and one thing I can say for myself is I have a strong local fan base- or I did, before I took some steps back from the nightlife to focus on the other parts of my life. I often have heard from individuals, "why aren't you DJing anymore?" "We miss you!" "When are you coming back?" "You're my favorite DJ!" So even though it kinda feels like bragging, I can honestly say I have... empirical evidence of my not-quite-sucking, you know?
So for this promoter to basically dick me out of a night and a scene demographic, and then be a passive-agressive fucker about it, and then act like I'm in the wrong for coming back by the request of the people- you know, I feel he can pretty much go fuck himself.

I think all things considered, he must have been brooding because while he's taken care to pussyfoot around his perceptions of my refusal to join his cause (in the past 6 years, he hasn't run a single event that I haven't been part of, so I think my refusal this time hurt him more than he admits) but here I am advertized to show up for one night and it wasn't his idea, and it's a big success.
Must've burned a little bit. Stung pride and strong drink are a bad combo.

So I'll fuggedaboutit. I'll continue to be magnanimous. The birthday boy and his guests couldn't have been happier with my presence. I was definitely wanted, there. And I've already apologized for the wrong I did commit, and there are any number of reasons why he's just being an asshat which I've politely declined to mention to his face. I just had to put it down here for catharsis' sake, because it's been irking me for two days.

And now, I shall go on about my business. La.

Hope, inc.

Jul. 6th, 2014 09:26 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
Lord help me help this man I love. And all the other talented men and women in my life who are frustrated and hopeless beyond measure. I know you put me here for them. I know Your hand is on my life and it is no accident that You've put me where I am.
Help me listen to you daily and stay on Your path, and guard me and my loved ones from evil, no matter how tempting. Please bless the work of my hands, the words of my mouth, the steps of my feet, the ideas of my mind and the emotions of my heart. Help me to always forgive and be merciful as You have been with me. Guide me always, and give me the strength and perseverance to help all those You've sent my way, and still lead a happy, healthy life. Let me be a conduit for Love on this planet, and to improve the lives of those I meet, even if just in a small way.
I believe You have Good Things in store for me, and I will Expect Good Things, as the young priestess in my dream told me I should.

I Expect Good Things.

I thank You with all my heart for the good you have brought into my life. Thank you for the blessing of Mr. Man, even though he is struggling right now. Please allow me to help him find his way, and be a blessing to him as he has been to me. Please help us find a way forward love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.
I thank You that you have not given me a spirit of Fear, but of Power, Love, & a Sound Mind. Even though this phase of life is as scary as any I've lived through yet, I trust that I'm here not by accident and that this is all part of Your plan.
I will not Fear.
I will Love.

Amen.

whatta man

Jun. 10th, 2014 11:57 am
silentwaters: (silent)
Sex three times yesterday. Out of nowhere.
THREE TIMES, y'all.
Like, morning sex, then around 9 pm "oh I was about to hop in the shower but I casually sauntered into your room with my dick swinging and a happy grin on my face to give you a kiss first but then WHOA HEY THERE"
And then we went out to eat (sex starved has a whole new meaning in my book) and when we got home around 2 am there was the slow, sensual, wow we're both sore but still kinda buzzin' and worked up, tantric massage that may-or-may-not-go-anywhere, but oh wait - yep, it's going there- oh wow holy fuck total brain meltdown with tears-inducing orgasm, it was so deep and intense.
Just...
wow.
I'm gonna keep him, I'm pretty sure of it now... ;)
silentwaters: (silent)
the ex's mom, stepdad, sister and brother in law are all in town to visit him in prison. They conveniently have a condo timeshare here. Technically, I have never been able to afford the legal fees to actually get a divorce yet.
I have saved up *almost* enough money 3 times in the past year, and each time, I've had to use it for emergency financial crises, much to my dismay and heartbreak.
I hate it because I think it gives my technically-still-in-laws hope that I'm going to get back with him. And I think it makes Mr. Man think I'm …somehow hesitating to fully let go, or fully commit to him- I don't know why I think that. He hasn't said anything mean to me about it. But I have this odd intuitive feeling that it's just one of those unfortunate things that emotionally gives him pause / his id or ego wants to hold it against me, even if his mind knows how broke we've been.
Mr. Man recently came into a little money, but I haven't dared ask him for financial help with this because… damn, that's just… I don't know, it makes me feel funny asking my current man to help me divorce my ex husband who I should have, and wanted nothing more than to, divorce almost instantly in August 2012. I've been effectively "stuck" since then, and while I was willing to let it ride during the trial because that meant I could retain my right of marital privilege and not be forced to testify against him (not that I really had anything enlightening to say to anyone on the subject)… now that the trial's over and he's serving time, I feel like I've fulfilled my duty and I wanted to be free of these bonds longer than long ago! Our legal marriage means nothing to me now- it's just a piece of paper on file with the state, it's a tax status, it's a proof of certain rights if he passes away in prison and someone has to retrieve the body or something (the other, more serious reason I've been willing to let the marriage papers stand all this time).

But it's nothing that really has huge impact on my daily life, as much as say, a dead car, which impacted my ability to get to work daily- I spent money on the car rather than a divorce. Not as much as say, becoming homeless if I don't pay rent- so I spent money on rent instead of a divorce. What do you want? I make $10/hr before taxes. I probably bring home something closer to $6-$7 net.
How the fuck do you save even $300 on that, when you're always a little short at the end of the month?
And sure, Mr. Man has had money for about a month now, but he moved in with me back last fall, and for the first 8 months or so I've been financing everything. I even put new tires on his car ($400 I somehow shit out in February, because- to be honest, it was the one working vehicle we had between us and we would have been desperately fucked without it)

So, what is a paper marriage but a bad memory, a legal hindrance to moving forward, a spiritual handcuff… yeah it needs to go. I want it gone. I want it dissolved yesterday. I don't wanna be friends. I'm not going to be a bitch to the ex or his family- I think I was MORE than reasonable, considering the nature of his affair/sexcrimes.

But his family always treated me so well. They were really nice in-laws. They always treated me like part of the family. They sent me and him so much love, before, during and even after the cancer thing.
They are gentle people. They are understandably destroyed over the incarceration of their son/brother. They are heartbroken that I want to divorce him.
They want to believe in his innocence, and - here's where we split hairs, and part ways: to a large extent, I think they do.

The Ex's mom made a stupid remark to me (I love her, and I understand she was speaking from a place of emotional denial and sadness/love for her son, but this statement was… just … thoughtless) that, "I've come to the conclusion that whether he did or didn't do anything, it doesn't really matter".

Au Contraire, madam.
Whether he "did" or "didn't" diddle a 14 year old IS, EXACTLY, the issue at hand. The issue that "matters". (oh and whether he also had an affair with her mother, but that only matters to me, not the court)
The difference between "Didn't" or "Did" is the difference between "I know you're innocent and I will defend your life and liberty to the end just as I did when I was fighting for your survival against Cancer" and "Fuck you never touch me again you ungrateful lying bastard"
It's the difference between my forgiving all your marital neglect of me and taking a deep breath to try again, thinking we can "work through" everything that the Cancer destroyed and took from us-- including our sex life- and my inability to ever let you touch me intimately again without thoughts of your fingers stroking that girl's genitals (whether you guys were clothed or not, I do not give a GOOD GODDAMN. Nope. Don't care.)

If your immediate reaction was not to slap a bitch's hand away and run in the other direction, back to my safe and loving arms (which at that point, they were, and I would've given the world for half an hour of your vulnerable intimacy after you keeping me at arms length and sexless for 3 years)… then you are simply not the man I want in my life. Period.


Well. I could go on and work myself up into a righteous rage. But the point of this entry is, his family still loves me and they are here in town and they visited him in prison yesterday, and tomorrow they want to have breakfast with me.
I just don't know what to tell them, how to behave. I loved them too. I mean I still care about them. And they are so innocent in all this. It's not fair that the ex's stupid crimes had to tear us apart when we spent over a decade treating each other as family.

But they willfully ignore his culpability here, and I do not know if I can handle being made to feel guilty for "abandoning" him when I don't even know where to begin on explaining how much Wrong there was in our marriage BEFORE I got the Phone Call Of Fate that night in August 2012, and that finding out he was a child molester was the LAST FUCKING STRAW, not nearly the first. I didn't even find out about the affair with the mother until sometime in spring 2013 after he'd already been behind bars for months and I finally decided to look at the text message history in his cell phone.
My god.
The utter disrespect for me. The jokes he and his paramour made at my expense, the eye rolling about how I "am". How I AM saved your fucking life, asshole.
And for what?
So you could abandon me and fuck me over and indulge your emotional vulnerability in a way that brought shame and decimation on me and your whole entire family?
Good job.
Good fucking job.

Ugh.
Look it was really hard for me to let him go, and even harder for me to let the idea of "us" go… and I spent 14 years caring about him as my best friend, love of my life, soulmate, husband, my world, my everything. In hindsight I can see his emotional vulnerability, his fear, his exhaustion and insecurity, and the road that led to the bad choices he made. And my heart continually breaks for him, whenever I think of him. I know there was good in him. I know that whole family was 3 kinds of fucked up before he got there, and they lied through their teeth in court. But he DID make "bad choices", emphasis on the word "choices". And they were the choices of a lazy thoughtless cowardly punk.
And that is his true character- denial of responsibility, punking out when the going gets tough instead of bucking up and dealing with it- he's done it all his life. Even his own mother had to let him "run away" from home when he was 15 because he just would not respect her. He punked out of our marriage rather than work on it with me, and it cost him, and me, and our marriage, and his family- everything. I can't even.
So yeah. Lately all I feel toward him is anger and resentment. I think I've reached that "Anger" stage of grieving, out of order.

-Denial - the ability to deny was stripped from me that very first night, when instead of meeting my eyes to tell me he was innocent, he hung his head in shame.
-Anger - was immediately caught and shoved hard aside because in crisis situations, I go into cold, hard "put out this fire NOW" mode, and only let myself fall apart/ "feel" things later… and that later is finally now, I think
-Bargaining - was taken from me because after his arrest, he was in the hands of the legal/prison system and I could do jack shit, except sadly visit him in jail twice a week
-Depression and acceptance - came together quickly, and settled in for the long haul.


I'm exhausted and I don't even want to be writing this, I want to be asleep in my comfy bed because in order to meet them for breakfast, I have to get up hella fucking early. I don't get up this early for anyone, not even my employer. But out of respect for them, I'm doing this thing. I'm meeting them.
I dont' want to break their hearts any further, but I don't know what to say to their faces.

Yes, I really truly loved your son, but he almost destroyed my very soul, and now he can basically go fuck himself?
I'm sorry for your loss but I'm actually glad he's in prison and I think he deserves to do time for the crime?
Our marriage was already on the rocks and he knew it long before he got involved with these hos?
You guys are great but sometimes there's just a bad seed?
I love you, but fuck him?

I mean, …. fuck, what do I say to these people? How do I treat them now? How far back into my life can I let them approach- are they going to understand when I say, He & I cannot be "friends" when he gets out? I will not have a convicted child molester anywhere near my life, home, career, or wonderful boyfriend and his two young daughters?


I don't know man. This whole concept of "hanging out" with them exhausts me and it hasn't even happened yet. I'm so stressed out, having to re-live all this bullshit that I've spent so much difficult healing time trying to lay to rest, in my mind. The Ex is not a big daily presence in my life anymore, and I know I'm healthier for it- I can't tell you how many people have come up to me since Mr. Man and I started dating, saying stuff like, "wow, Silentwaters, you look so good!" "You look so healthy!" "I didn't wanna say anything before because I thought you were maybe struggling with Meth or something, but you look amazing and so much more at peace!" (yes, this was ACTUALLY said to me in the last 6 months).

I'm just… gonna have to be honest with my "in-laws" somehow.
They're just gonna have to… understand, somehow.
I don't know. If they don't understand and respect my POV, we just can't remain in each other's lives, period.
I don't know.

*sigh*
I can't think about it anymore. Sleep.
silentwaters: (silent)
That amazing moment when the tip of your tongue connects with probably shoulda put this under a NSFW tag, sorry )

trust

May. 4th, 2014 11:43 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
we've been having a lot of good sex this past week, and I've been feeling very close with him. Then I fell asleep for a nap this afternoon and had a disturbing dream:
dreamt we were in a room or courtyard that was built for a lot of action. A lot was going on. The floor was built up with dirt levels, hills, and pits kind of like a motocross course, but human-travel scale, like for footpaths, and it was still under construction, some trails were paved and some were not. The first part of the dream was me and Mr. Man trying to go through the entrance together but he was on a segway or like… foot-powered scooter or something, and had footwear on- but it limited his turning radius and speed, and he was not as agile as me (I was on foot). Also, there were two entrances side by side- a human-scale door, where the formal paved path began (but it disappeared behind a dirt hill and was unfinished from there), and just next to it, a giant open hangar-door scale… wide open space. but just in front of it was a pit and some terraced pathways that weren't easy to just "walk in" to this giant gaping hole. He was trying to enter through the human-scale door on the proper path, but his lack of agility didn't mix with the sharp corners / brokenness of the path ahead, and 3 times he got turned back and had to exit the room and try again. Whereas I got frustrated and just took off my shoes and entered through the hanger door gap, jumping over the first pit, and landing on a dirt ledge next to the path. (we'd intended to go through the door together, like we do when he holds my hand everywhere we go, but only one person at a time could fit through it, especially with his segway taking up all the width his body didn't.) The entrance I took was so big and easy, there was just a little bit of challenge right when you jumped in, but with my bare feet I had better traction and a smaller turning radius. True, I had to watch out for loose gravel and sharp rocks but I knew I would have just as good a chance as any to survive this twisty turny course. I was trying to convince Mr. Man to lose the segway and his special boots and just do like me. But He was frustratingly not listening to me, letting his pride get in the way, and also he kind of looked down on me for being barefoot. I think he knew I was right though, and he was going to follow me…
… scene change. Now this room/hangar/courtyard thing was a busy bazaar full of people and bustling areas. There was a U-shaped configuration of furniture, like a big chair, then a couch, then another side chair or loveseat, around a coffee table, as if we were at a VIP table at a nightclub. Mr. Man was sitting opposite me - we were in the smaller chairs on either short end of the table. The long side, and the long couch, was occupied by a very wealthy, powerful old man, in his underwear. He was an associate of Mr. Man's. They were speaking to each other in a foreign language, and I thought it was about me. Mr. Man was telling him, something in his tone a mixture of warning and pleading, "Don't…", while the old man was like, "Psh, of course I will, she will like it, watch:"
And he reached over and pulled me to him, grabbed a fistful of my hair from the back of my head and shoved my face into his crotch, spreading his legs wide and raising them up in the air. My eyes went wide with shock- he was wearing tighty-whities and only brought my nose within about an inch of actually touching the bulge in the cotton fabric, but I didn't know the content of their previous conversation and I did not think it was safe to resist or struggle. The old man laughed, and said something like, "you like what you smell, girl? Smell it, take a whiff…" Mr. Man kind of laughed too, but it sounded thin, and I couldn't see his eyes from where I was and I couldn't tell what he really thought. The man's crotch smelled musty, like... penis & schweaty balls, like you'd expect. I mean, what do you want? It wasn't terribly off-putting, it was just natural human male smell, like you'd find at the end of the day if he had showered that morning and walked around all day. Genital scent, when I have smelled it on a lover, is different for every man, but it's kind of the same, too. It doesn't bother me; in fact it can be a turn on, but only when I truly care about/desire the man himself. For this man, I felt nothing, so the smell meant nothing. "What does it smell like?" he demanded. "Like… a man…" I answered kind of flatly. He laughed again. "You see?" he was saying to Mr. Man, as if to prove some kind of point. Mr. Man didn't do anything, did not hop up to save me or get me away from the old goat. I thought he might be afraid to contradict this wealthy guy because we needed his help, or we were in a dangerous situation, or something. His face was unreadable, as if we both knew what was happening but were completely stymied from communicating about it in this moment. I knew what was likely to happen and I didn't know if Mr. Man wanted/planned this, or didn't want this, but either way he wasn't going to stop it, he was just going to watch me do... whatever I did.
My hand ended up on the man's bulge, I think because I was partially trying to push myself up, and if sexual things were going to happen, I didn't want to give him my mouth or my pussy. He relaxed his grip on me as I gripped him harder. I ended up giving him a sort of… hand job, I guess, though it didn't seem to take very long and went in kind of fast-motion. At the end it was all jumbled up- he came all over my hand, or he didn't come and I pulled away leaving him unsatisfied. His cum seeped through the fabric or he wasn't wearing any underwear or he didn't cum at all or the underwear he was wearing was clear/seethrough and my hand was just inside it with the splooge kind of frozen in 3-D against the invisible fabric. This "scene" was very weird and all mixed together, I don't know how to explain it. Mr. Man had watched us silently the whole time. I had done what I had to do to get us through this dangerous social negotiation, and no more, but I didn't know if he would think less of me now. I still wanted only him, I only had eyes for him, only desire for him… I hoped he knew that. This act was meaningless to me. I didn't have time to worry about that, though- The old man's head lolled back with pleasure, and when he looked up at me, it was with new appreciation in his eyes. He was very attracted to me, I could tell. "My dear, you and I should really make some… more time for sex together…alone…" he suggested. "We would have a lovely time…"
I could tell from his energy field that he was right to believe that- we had some compatibility of spirit, so having sex with him would probably… not be so bad. We might have fun. I just really wasn't interested and couldn't believe his nerve, asking me to make trysts with him in front of my husband (in this dream we were married). I mean seriously, what the fuck was going on here?

"Oh, you know, that's very sweet of you to suggest, but I really… " I looked over at Mr. Man pointedly, "…just am not able to right now." I smoothed my hand over his cheek sweetly, and caressed his shirt collar / chest/shoulder as I rose. "…But if anything changes about my situation, I'll definitely let you know."
We smiled at each other sweetly. The old man saw the look in my eye and I felt that he now genuinely did respect me as a lady. He was sad that I rejected him, but took it with grace. Mr. Man and I rose and left the old man. I was satisfied that I had put my foot down and gotten us out of this without further incident. I was kind of proud of myself for setting a boundary and reminding myself of what I was capable of on my own, but I felt confused as to why I had to be the one to do it- I expected Mr. Man to… I don't know, step up, or something. But he didn't.

As we walked, I wondered if this had all been a test, somehow staged. Did Mr. Man harbor a cuckold fantasy of some kind and not tell me to make it more "real"? Was he jealous and waiting for me to slip up to prove something to himself? Were we over-leveraged with this old dude, and *I* was the price we were paying? I didn't know. I figured I had survived the moment with, uhm, most of my honor in tact but… there was the hand job. I wanted to apologize to Mr. Man about it, but I didn't know if he hated me for it or understood, if it was his plan all along. I wondered if he trusted me. I wished I could communicate to him my honest feelings about how I really wanted him. It wasn't that I am incorruptible, or beyond the sway of seduction- I'm still a human woman with an active sex drive and I can be turned on by lots of people and scenarios - but continually, over-archingly, renewably, I only want him. I want Mr. Man. I hoped he knew that.

As we walked, the scene was kind of like an outdoor mall at night. We came across a young tree lying on the floor, like the saplings you find in a nursery in a black plastic pot, ready to plant in your yard… the black dirt was spilling out as the container rolled sideways on the ground, making a mess on the concrete. I went to go try and pick it up or salvage it, thinking I was gonna save it for my fucked-up friend (I'll call her Lacey) but Mr. Man stopped me or… because he was there, I couldn't fix it or pick it up. It was a $500 tree, apparently. I was frustrated. People were milling around the sidewalks / courtyard, walking over it.
I was thinking how great it would be, if I could just save that tree and give it to my friend to grow for her, but Mr. Man was talking about how stupid it was to pay $500 for a fucking tree and who the fuck does shit like that, etc. and that he wouldn't spend his money on it, that's for damn sure…
I was sad, and said something like, "well… yeah I mean it doesn't make any sense for broke people like us to buy that tree, we have so little money/can't afford it right now, but… I mean if I made a lot of money, if money was no object--"
"Even if I made a LOT of money!" He cut me off. "It's stupid, paying $500 for a fucking tree. What the fuck. Ridiculous." He gave a snort of derision and walked away.
I was kind of heartbroken, because I hadn't even been talking about the tree, I was thinking that if I made a lot of money, if money was no object, then of course, I would have no problem helping all my destitute friends.
He didn't see it that way at all.
I was left wondering if *I* trusted *him* now, and I suddenly felt very angry, then tried to channel that into something more positive, my thoughts going into survival-mode. I was going to try and come up with a way that we could both feel like we were equitably contributing to the household and teaming up to make ourselves financially stable, while still retaining a good chunk of our respective incomes to do with as we pleased, because I thought, I'll be damned if I'm gonna be held accountable to a heartless man for every penny of my own money that I spend. I told him that we needed to have a talk about money.
He turned around and waited for me to explain my plan to him, but we were in such a noisy distracting place, and I didn't want to try and talk about it here.
"Let's wait till we get home, and we'll talk about it there," I said. "Okay," he agreed, and he took my hand and we walked on.

Then I woke up.

This dream troubles me a lot, because it speaks of a lot of trust issues, in the midst of a time when I've been feeling very close to him.
I really have forgiven him / decided to accept him for who he is, over that incident with "Lacey" the other week. Our relationship has felt on a pretty even keel for this last week and a half or so. His young cousin came to visit us for a few days from 'the old country', and we had a good time together, showing him around our town that has a lot of interesting touristy things to do. When the cousin was here, we had some hot "silent sex" and after the cousin left we've been having hot not-so-silent sex, LOL. Twice in one day, yesterday, even! lol... And we've been doing low-key, domestic things together this weekend, just relaxing and kickin' it, getting our lives in order, etc.
We're financially stressed but there are no old men or rich powerful men on the horizon anywhere in our social circle that would have triggered this kind of dream. I've never fantasized about cuckolding him, and the idea makes me feel kind of queasy. He doesn't seem to be the kind of man would put up with that or get off on that. He's very "manly" or… "alpha" or something, in his own way, I guess. I've met lots of different kinds of kinky people, and lots of men, and I think about the psychology of sex a lot, and… I'm just saying, Mr. Man doesn't present much of an enjoyment for being submissive on the level that cuckolding requires. If he was really into it, I'd try to open my mind to it more, I guess, for his sake. If I knew/trusted that he'd have an achingly good orgasm / mental high off of watching me get plowed by some other man, I'd… feel funny about it, but I might be convinced to do it FOR HIM. (I don't know, though, maybe not. My ex-husband all but practically pushed me into other men's arms to relieve himself of the pressure of performing with me, and I was so starved for so long that I almost considered actual cheating, but I never did. I just couldn't bring myself to do it. But it also wasn't a scenario where I thought it was what he truly wanted, I just felt like he was pushing his responsibility for intimacy with me off on other people, rather than trying to win me/soften me/be there for me himself. Maybe if I felt truly secure in a relationship, and I was convinced that my partner would feel more fulfilled/closer to me… it would feel different. I'm the kind of person who would go to great lengths or perform lots of mental gymnastics to keep my partner happy. I'm just not naturally prone to cheating.)
But I don't believe that is what Mr. Man wants at all. He makes me feel like I'm "his" woman, and even though I know I'm free and sentient unto myself and no one will ever "own" me, I'm... okay with feeling like I'm "his woman"; we both enjoy that dynamic. He's pretty much all that is male, and I'm all that is female, and we're… both satisfied with that, and not because we haven't thought about pushing our … I don't know, Kinsey scale orientation, or whatever you want to call it, but we HAVE questioned it and found what we really like and we're pleased to live that way.
I like being in a relationship with a man who makes me feel like… he desires me for who I am and who I want to be, and I think he likes it the same way, but on his side of things. So to me that's mutual consent and mutual respect and it's a healthy thing. If one of us desired a change in our power-dynamic, in or outside of the bedroom, I think we're honest enough to communicate about it; I just haven't seen any markers for either of us that this fetish would psychologically appeal to.
(err, my mild, purely physical fantasy about double penetration not withstanding-- and that has nothing to do with power and everything to do with physical sensation- I just like feeling "filled up"; honestly I'd be fine with him and a dildo, or two dildos and no man- but frankly to me it's not about what the guy(s) are thinking at all, but about how I'm feeling, and because that's so selfish/self-centered, I find it mildly embarrassing and it's something I relegate to masturbatory fantasy only. I've never lived it out, or tried to, and I'm okay with that. The idea of another man taking me in front of my committed partner and making him feel… "cuckolded" is an entirely different set of complex psychology that never really enters into my simple physical fantasy. I don't get off on embarrassing or humiliating other people, especially people I love and am committed to. Just... ugh.)

So this… scenario in my dream was weird all around.
I don't know. I don't know what that is supposed to mean. Maybe it meant nothing. Maybe it's just a leftover jumble of issues my subconscious is residually working through. Now that I'm awake I don't actually feel this apprehensive about Mr. Man.
silentwaters: (silent)
so my spine is full of fucked up problems. The other night when we came home, we were both exhausted. He had already eaten but stopped to get me food before picking me up from work. So when we got in the door, he trod upstairs to shed clothing and get horizontal. I sat on the couch with my box of takeout, to eat because I'd had an extra long day at work, and was tired, hungry, and in shoulder/back pain, but the hunger was winning out at the moment. I told him I'd come join him, but I dozed off after eating instead of leaving the couch, one survival necessity overtaking the other as soon as it was sated.

By the time I finally dragged my half-asleep arse upstairs to bed, he was already asleep. I stripped and crawled in beside him. He made a subconscious murmur of acknowledgement and sleepily opened his arm closest to me, like raising a protective wing, to let me snuggle close and lay my head on his chest. I spent a moment adjusting my head on him, with my cheek on his pectoral pad and the crown of my head resting just beneath his beard. I'm always a little self-conscious about this because I think my hair tickles his face, but I can only smooth it down and hope he's not too annoyed. His warmth and scent were reassuring, but once he felt me stop moving, he also made this little motion that… wasn't quite a hug because he was basically asleep, but he like… nuzzled the top of my head with his beard as if to welcome me there, and settle us both into an intimate sleeping pose with his local gravity. He expected me there, wanted me there.

It struck me for a moment- in contrast, my ex, the man I trusted with my life and loved without question- I spent so much time avoiding touching him when he was asleep, because he made it clear he didn't want to be- if I snuggled near him when he was asleep, I was liable to startle him into grouchy half-wakefulness, or get shouldered away, or pushed/elbowed sleepily out of his space. He hated being hot or warm or feeling touched or bothered in his sleep. We only ever fell asleep entwined together when it was his idea. Especially after the cancer treatments started… he became especially touchy about any contact, waking or sleeping. I learned to avoid touching him altogether unless he initiated contact. It was torture; sometimes I'd cry myself silently to sleep out of loneliness, with him 6 inches away, snoring peacefully, me feeling… shut out and helpless and trapped. Sometimes I would imagine I was a stone in an Aztec pyramid, carved to look like a girl, with moss growing over me, content to be still and silent, unaffected by the rise and fall of human dramas and the passage of time. I would often fall asleep this way, sort of… meditating myself into a place where I was deaf and blind to the real world, my consciousness hidden safely in a granite tomb, unmoved by the weight of his looming fatality, and our shared depression. Only then would I sleep and ignore him ignoring me. Eventually I started sleeping alone in the other bedroom just to have mental peace.

But this guy. I don't know. This love is still so new, untested really. He hurt me a lot last week and even though I have forgiven him, I'm not stupid- I know people don't just change their characters. He still probably feels he was mostly in the right, he never did verbally apologize, and I'm the one who's continued to accept his presence under my roof so I'm the one who has to turn the other cheek, or live more carefully, or trust him less, or whatever. Whatever action there is, or caution there is to take, it's on me to do it, if I'm going to continue to allow him around me. I know he's still exactly who he is, and if other similar situations arise, I'm like to see a similar reaction from him. So there are simply some things I'll ask of him and other things I won't. *shrug* I now know better where he stands with me and what I can expect of him.

But I have been looking for signs of where I stand with him. Does he still even want to bother with this relationship. Is he tired of me. Does he want to be a part of my life, and keep me as a part of his. These aren't always things you can believe when they're expressed as words. In this case… knowing he's a man of action rather than words makes it easier for me; I seek to observe the truth from his actions. And even his subconscious, or half-asleep actions, seem to indicate a desire for closeness with me. It occurred to me that maybe he's better at co-sleeping because of his experience as a daddy, sleeping with babies in the bed, there's always a part of his mind now that's not asleep, but in "protect-nurture" mode. I'm no baby and I don't want to exhaust him when he's supposed to be resting, but it seems to come naturally to him, it's just an innate part of how he's wired. It's… ridiculous how comforting he can be sometimes. I want to cry sometimes when I think about it. I'm used to sleeping alone. Alone, damn you. I'm a warrior and a stone. Why you gotta be all…snuggly 'n shit, getting me to let my guard down? I don't know about this. I don't know. This is risky. But also damnably …enticing... and the truth is… I emotionally starved for so long, I feel like… sometimes I just don't know what to do with myself, what is truth… what can I rely on, if not this? I feel like I'm equal parts pathetically soaking it up and/or talking myself down from my own ledges of distrust & flight.
So far, he's winning me over, even taking last week into account.

I try not to compare my relationships too much, because that way lies madness, but the bottom line is... the ex often professed to love me, but would have pushed me away in his sleep.
This man doesn't use many love-words, but subconsciously draws me close and tucks me under his protection for the night.

And there you have it (and there I have it).
silentwaters: (silent)
Opendiary.com apparently closed up shop back in February of this year. I missed the window of time there was to back my shit up. I had a very old diary there, my OTHER-other not-so-secret diary. Okay, actually, THIS journal is actually my OTHER-other diary, and is pretty completely secret, in the sense that only one person I know IRL knows about it, and that person is behind bars.
My OpenDiary, though- it had a large and lengthy log of all my early college years, and though I don't write much in it anymore (obviously, since I missed the news story about it SHUTTING DOWN by oh, 3 months), it contained a lot of poetry from back when I used to write poetry- sonnets from my sonnet-obssessed period, all my ramblings about my first fiancé, then my early joyous rapturous disgustingly sweet bullshit about the beginning of my relationship with my ex, all those good juicy parts that I've been writing about me and Mr. Man? Yeah, that phase, but with the ex, and in a voice that's about 12 years younger. I sometimes went back and re-read those entries to get a picture or self-assessment of how I aged- it was interesting to me to look back over my changing vocabulary and tone, and think about how I'd matured as an individual.
Not only that, but I had written a lot in there about my ex's cancer period, and then our relationship-failure breakdown period, and stuff was really painful to write and really painful to read, but necessary for me to log for historical reasons, nonetheless.

Now I've lost it all. ALL gone. Like sand poured in a lake. The Internet Wayback Machine has no cached record of any of my pages, either. *sigh* I didn't even know it was going to be taken away until I went to look it up tonight, because I'd written a snippet of a science fiction story in there one time and I have been feeling like maybe revisiting it and writing more than just a snippet, continuing that world.

I feel… strangely less upset than I thought I would, but I think it's more that I realize instant resignation is necessary or I will implode with anguish- Resignation to the aging of the internet and my own lax backup habits- my own fault, taking this sort of thing for granted just because the archive's been running so long-

Which reminds me I should back up my live journals as well, at some point.

But just… goddammit. I can't believe I lost all that. It represents hundreds of hours of writing, and probably thousands of hours of my life.
It's not that I think I'm so important in absolute terms, but… I like to always think that when I'm old, or maybe dead, these writings of an average American girl's life in this historical era might serve as some sort of… I don't know, picture of life during these times. My personal story is only part of the reason to keep it around, but it also echoes of things like technology, linguistics, relationships, gender roles, socio-cultural… Ehhhhh. blah blah blah. The truth is, I've always been driven to journal ever since I was young. And I always intended to archive it all in one place some day, to put the disparate pieces together before I die, so that anyone who cared to look back on my life or these times could get a fuller picture, the good and the bad, the lofty and the base, the silliness and the seriousness of one person's life. A character study. I guess I never really expected to have children so… it was all I ever intended to leave behind, you know?
And now several years- no, over a decade- just fell into a trap door in the Internet and it's all gone forever. I remember back when I had a Juno email account, a dial up modem, and not all of my friends even owned a computer in their family home, much less a personal computer/laptop, or even a cell phone. And then I started dabbling in "The World Wide Web", studying HTML, practicing building webpages with my Geocities account… and then not much longer after that, I got my open diary, before I even started using LiveJournal at all. LiveJournal was the new, untrusted platform, and OpenDiary was where I stored my real thoughts. Eventually I started trusting/using LJ as a platform more and more, and eventually I created this account to say all the things I couldn't say on my main "public" LJ account. Filters and filters and filters. And when filters didn't make me feel safe enough- I created sock accounts like this one. But I always kept my OpenDiary and the few IRL friends who used to use it eventually faded out of my real life (old college friends) and no one new ever added me, as it became a lost and abandoned platform in the face of the newer Social Media menagerie of opportunities to over-share. But I liked to go back there and write, like it was an abandoned and quiet little garden, and I had little fear of anyone relevant to my current life making any trouble with me over it. And I liked to write. I liked the blogging era of the internet. At least we went to the trouble of writing shit out, back then.
Now we have tumblr, facebook, twitter, instagram, vine, pintrest- everything in bite sized chunks, everything designed to be found, everything posted in a self-conscious way, prepped for the paparazzi. If anyone bothers to blog nowadays, it's only for the affiliate marketing revenue.
But I don't give a shit if anyone reads this. In fact, I kind of hope no one does. There are a few people I've wished I could share it with, but my desire for a place to really truly let the truth out unfiltered necessitates my continued silence. If they find it, oh well. If they don't, oh well. But this journal is catharsis, only. I write for me.
And back when I regularly journaled on my "dayside" journals (my more public ones), I kept my "friends list" to actual, you know, "friends" I knew in real life. And I still filtered my posts based on what I thought they did or didn't want to see, or could or could not handle, same as I would be mindful of my real speech around real people. Tact, courtesy, discretion- lost arts, in today's internet, yet for all our TMI posting across the social media sphere today in 140-characters-or-less, I feel like I was… I don't know, real…er, then. We all were, back then. We came online when we had something we thought was actually noteworthy to share, or to express the realities of our daily lives with each other, and when we left comments, they weren't always ironic or full of stupid fucking memes. (We still talked to each other over dinner instead of staring at our phones the whole time, too, so that whole "real friendship" dynamic-thing could like, actually develop. Shocker, I know.)
Nowadays, in that rare moment when we're feeling invulnerable enough to show our real life face to our "followers", we just take #selfies #nomakeup #badhairday #derpderp #gagmewithahashtag


Damn.
The world has changed a lot.
I feel old.
And tired.

I should have known better. That's what I get for being too trusting, story of my effin' life.
Also, I've been purging the Ex out of my life for over a year now, and all traces of him STILL aren't really gone. I don't know if the purge is good or bad, I just know it's necessary to my survival now to look forward, not back. This removes… my ability to go back and look at a good chunk of all our good memories together. I do feel sad about that.
But those good memories were already tainted, truth be told.
Maybe it's better they're gone for good, simply echoes in my mind. I still know they happened. And someday when I die, the evil that our marriage became will die with me for good. Perhaps that's for the best.


Now if you'll excuse me, a very handsome man just came and kissed me goodnight… all naked and smelling like freshly-showeredOhYesPlease
silentwaters: (silent)
we had our first fight this last week. I knew it was to be expected, all couples fight.
What I'm looking for is a healthy resolution. And I'm not sure we've… achieved that. I've decided to forgive him and move on this time, but it was an agonizing week of soul searching on my part. I tried to forgive him instantly but it didn't work. I tried to appreciate his point of view; didn't work. We've slept in separate beds for 5 nights now, but that is ostensibly due to his illness this week. Yes, he fell ill, but I needed to help a friend in a critical moment; she had to face a hearing and possible jail time in the morning- I am the closest thing she has to a "power of attorney" and she was giving me ALL of her life on a list- her bank accounts, her medical records, emergency contact info, bills and rent info, etc. so I can administrate her accounts while she's gone. This was not a joyride, or a "girl talk" moment. She is kind of scary, her house is kind of scary, plus I threw my back out earlier this week and was in a lot of pain myself, and I knew Mr. Man was sick and cranky and I HATED asking him for the favor, but I had no one else to turn to and time was literally running out. I was only there by the grace of God, and on a mission of mercy; I was not about to waste any more time in there than I had to.
Not only that, but I was supposed to have seen this friend for this critical meeting days before, but put her off because of Mr. Man: he was too exhausted and grumbly to take me then, and I placated her and let it go because was trying to keep everyone happy. But it didn't stop her from needing my help, and I'd already said I would, and I'm a person of my word.

So I finally asked him to help me after picking me up from work (when we were already halfway across town to her house instead of starting from our place, which is twice as far) by giving me a ride to her house, and picking me up in about an hour. He agreed, and was going to a nearby WalMart to kill time and pick up a few groceries. (Far be it from him to enter the house and attempt to socialize or just wait patiently.) When I walked in the door, circumstances made me think we might be done faster, and I texted him so. But it ended up taking about the full 45 mins to an hour I'd expected. Because he was sick and he really hates/fears this particular friend (she's a fuck-up, but I love her and I feel God placed her in my path to help), he just sat outside in his vehicle and stewed, getting angrier by the minute, until he actually sent me a text message threatening to leave me there and find my own way home- a particularly low blow, since a)I obviously have no vehicle of my own and I would never have asked him to take me there if I wasn't desperate b)there is no public transportation in that part of the city, or anywhere near our house, and it's completely remote, away from any mutual friends who could come get me, and this friend I was helping doesn't have a car either. I would have been stranded for hours, if not overnight.)

Now the threat itself would not have been so bad if, once I came outside and got in his vehicle, he had indicated verbally or non-verbally that he was just blustering because he was angry and the threat itself was empty, but not only did he let me continue to assume he was serious, he went out of his way to make a point of non-apology, aiming his wrath at my friend and how much he hates her. He's a cold, hard man when he wants to be, and was stony and stubborn to the point that I had no choice to believe he really would have abandoned me. Now I have a real problem, because he basically put a bait and switch on me, then blamed me for it as if I should have known. I told him he let me down. He said that was okay. I told him that it was NOT "Ok", not OK at all. He was silent. I reminded him that the time to have refused taking me over there would have been WHEN I ASKED HIM IN THE FIRST PLACE, not "while I'm inside desperately typing someone's critical life details into my phone's note app because it's all I've got so NO I can't answer your every goddamn text with some placating reply! I also reminded him that I am not the enemy here, and that all I have with him is trust- that's it, that's all, and when it's destroyed, it's gone.
His anger made him proud and defiant, though, indicating he didn't care, still taking all his anger out on my friend and how fucked up she is. He was completely unyielding and unapologetic, though I tried to make him understand this wasn't about her, but about him and I, and that this was a big deal to me.
Finally when we pulled into the driveway, I let him know, I want to believe you're a better man than this. Help me believe it.
He muttered that he would have probably knocked on the door before leaving me there.
But he wouldn't look me in the eye as he said it.

Here's the thing: I don't care if he doesn't give a rat's ass about my friend. I don't give a shit if he fucking HATES her.
But you put me into a scary time and place and you know I'm relying on you, and you threaten to fuck ME over because of your fear/anger issues?
NOW we have a problem, because you just proved I can't trust you to be there for me when I need you most.



So. Where are we now?

Well, he's spent a week sleeping on the couch, getting over his illness.

I've spent the week sleeping alone, wondering if I should keep him in my life or cut him out now while the lesson's still small and relatively painless, or let this fester into one of those things were 7 years from now I'm gonna be heartbroken at some larger cruelty. I've spent the week questioning everything. Everything. My heart chained up and my brain in command. Relationship progress is at a pure standstill with me while I assess the damage and weigh future risk.


I don't need a big flowery apology; a simple honest "I'm sorry" would do. But I am pretty sure hell will freeze over before he'd utter those words. Moreover, if I'm in a critical moment in the future, now I've witnessed that I can't always trust him to have my back. I'll never ask him to help me with my friend's business again, and I'm sure nothing would please him more, but I also don't really give a fuck what he thinks about her and I'm going to continue helping her on my own, not out of spite or because I think I can save the world, but because I believe God put me in HER life for a reason, and helping her is The Right Thing To Do, and I'm a woman of principle. And in my book, principle comes before romance, as he witnessed when I cut the Love of My Life and the last 14 years of Relationship right the fuck out of my life when I found out about that poor fool's sex crimes. I loved him a lot. I had a helluva lot invested in that marriage. But- Righteousness first, personal comfort second. That's how I roll. Oh, and did I mention this girlfriend trusts me implicitly with her life and her children's lives and made me their Godmother because she knows she's a terminally ill drug-addicted fuck-up and I'm the only stand-up citizen type friend she has? And oh- guess what- I try not to Fuck Over people who Trust me. That's also part of How I Roll, and if you want to be with me, best you understand that, because you gotta roll along or cut yourself free, one or the other.


He doesn't think this was a big deal, but it's just about the biggest deal you can have with someone like me. To fuck me over for no good reason and then act like I'm taking it too hard. I do not take kindly to mind games.
I don't have a lot left to lose, heart-wise. I already know I'm a fucking survivor. I don't let people close to me for good fucking reasons now. So… you don't get a lot of chances with me.
Now I have to wonder if trusting him in ANY capacity is a good, or even okay idea.
Now I have to wonder if he respects me at all.
Now I have to question his love and his loyalty, and I come up sadly insecure about those things because he's not very verbally expressive in the first place, so if he's not touching me or interacting with me somehow regularly to reassure me of his care, I don't know where I stand with him at all.
I just haven't known him long enough to trust that about him even if nothing was wrong between us. Yeah, my trust is fucking slow to build and I have issues. BUT IT'S BECAUSE OF SHIT LIKE THIS. And I try to get over/deal with this fact that he's more of an "actions speak louder than words" kinda guy and that he's almost never verbal about how he feels about me, though he usually shows it, so I accept physical reinforcement when he's offering it, but this week, our physical connection's been almost completely non-existent, thanks to the sickness too, which couldn't have come at a worse time. We haven't touched, kissed, hugged, whatever, none of it (The sickness, such a good solid responsible reason for him not to reach out.)
But his actions that night shout loudly: I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK IS IMPORTANT. I AM MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOU. MY COMFORT IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN YOUR BELIEFS. MY PRIDE IS MORE IMPORTANT THAN MY LOVE FOR YOU. I DON'T RESPECT THE CHOICES OF YOUR MIND OR HEART. I NEVER APOLOGIZE BECAUSE I AM NEVER WRONG.

These are bad psychological omens for a long term relationship, and I am not blind.
I am, of necessity, in a state of constant survival assessment.
The data he input with me this week are not encouraging.
I don't know how to stress this enough to him without sounding like a nag, but you know… if I don't look out for me, no one will.
So now it's up to me to decide: Do I think he's cute enough to put up with this crap?
Do I like fucking him enough to put up with this crap?
Do I feel loved by him enough to put up with this crap?
Do I think we have enough of a potential future together to give him another couple of chances?
He will hurt me again, I'm sure of it. Everybody hurts everybody, and I always knew his cold arrogance would be the character flaw in him that could drive me away.
But is he worth it?
Is he, the man, the soul, the potential light, the partner, worth the pain?

I want to say yes, the chained up innocent heart of me wants to say, yes, yes, forgive him, it was only his pain talking, forget about it, you know he didn't mean it, he would never have really left you there, he can't be THAT big of an asshole, really-

He likes to be manly. I like to be feminine around him. But I am nobody's fool. I *will* maintain personal safety and sanity above any childish notion of "romance". I'm done with men who fuck me over. If he is an UnSafe person, I will cut him out of my personal space. Done.

So I've been going round and round in my head since then, assessing the potential threat to my life and livelihood. Call me paranoid. I'd like to stay alive and not go back into the crumbled suicidal hole I was in before.
Maybe we really are just each other's rebound thing. Maybe rebound things are doomed to failure. I don't know.
Very angry, very betrayed, and pretty disturbed by his complete lack of apology or amendment. I have very little to say to him. I've been honestly concerned about his illness, but he's also taken care of himself, mostly.

I'm also- okay, I'll swallow my pride here and admit it- I'm also incredibly sad & feel wounded, because I love him, and I expect better. That was my own stupid choice, to put faith in him I know. To put faith in anyone. And he let me down so suddenly; he told me, loudly by his actions & harsh words- that he will unapologetically fuck me over when it's more convenient for him to act an ass. I mean I knew he'd hurt me sometime. I knew it'd probably be an issue of his imperious nature. I saw how coldly he handled his divorce, I mean, I knew, I was just hoping it would be a while longer before he'd turn that unloving face on me.
I was hoping… we'd have a long time together. Yep, there's my folly again, that was my stupid silly hope, that maybe this guy is… Someone Big, to me. A husband, a Companion, a fellow warrior.
Stupid of me to even hope really, based on history, lol. I hoped my ex and I would get married and live happily ever after, too. I hoped it wouldn't be cancer. I hoped he would look me in the face and tell me the voices on the phone were lying and he didn't touch some 14 year old girl. But I digress. Mr. Man is nothing like my ex and shouldn't have to answer for his crimes- I'm not a general man-hater- Point is, I'm just saying- based on my life experience so far, I should know better than to hope, because that's when Life comes in to Fuck you in your weak spot, with a sanguine smile.

But these last few months I've been smiling and happy for the first time in so many years. It felt so good, I let my guard down. I have been so proud to be with a man like him. I've bragged on him to a lot of people. I introduced him to my parents and siblings and secured their approval, let them see how happy I was in his hands. He's never done anything to hurt me so far, and always seemed to handle me with regard and affection. I have loved him so much, and trusted him so much so fast. Too much, too fast, I know, but goddammit after all the years I've spend with my heart starving and scrunched in a box, it felt so fucking GOOD to stretch my love-limbs with somebody. And my love for him is my weakness, I know. I know it's a weakness a warrior cannot afford.

But must I always be a fucking warrior?
Isn't there ANYONE on this fucking rock who I can truly relax with?
God this just… makes me angry all over again.
He was supposed to be the one I could trust.
He let me trust him and he didn't say ANYthing.
I don't want to end it over this stupid seemingly inconsequential thing, but it's got all the symbolism of a larger power dynamic at work, and if I can't trust him in small things how can I trust him in big things? I don't know if going forward is a wise move anymore. I've felt sick at my stomach all week about it.
Is ALL the good we've had together so far outweighed by this ONE, first, fight? Really?
(No, the realist in my head says. The good past was good, and that all really happened. You can still enjoy that it happened, keep happy memories, give credit where credit is due. But it's the future you're contemplating, now that you have gathered more data. A future you are wise to think hard about, given that you've dreamed of building a life and marriage and even family with him so often by now...)

- - - - -

Finally, he took me to the gym two nights ago night to soak (I also injured my back earlier this week, and had begged him to take me to the gym so I could hit the sauna that night after my friend's house, but we were angry and fought the entire way home instead so, no gym).

I soaked my aching back and shoulders in the hot tub. I swam in the cold pool for a while working my muscles slowly. I went back to the hot tub. And I thought and I prayed and I prayed and I thought. And I found no answers. All the while, I felt a gentle pull to forgive, but my fear was stronger and I recoiled.
What if I forgive him and I march toward my future blind like a lamb to the slaughter?
Almost immediately, it came into my head that Jesus was called the "lamb" of God. Not the Lion. And that Love does not know Fear.

I went and changed clothes and I started praying in earnest. I told God I believe He brought us together, and I want to forgive Mr. Man - I'm still so grateful for all the good he's brought to my life- but I admitted that I'm just… scared about what his behavior means, really. I'm scared about our future, and whether I'll be in good hands with him. Was this a warning to me? A lesson for us both? An opportunity to practice forgiveness?
Maybe he is really an asshole, or maybe he's trying and learning a new way of being in partnership with a woman, being with me, and this is an old tactic and now that he's learned it doesn't do him much good, he'll… choose a different way of communicating his urgency to me in the future. Maybe it was the pain and sickness yelling with his voice.

I begged God for a sign.
Then I immediately apologized to God for pulling that silly mortal trick- everyone always begging for signs, surely You must get sick of it, God, and I'm sorry, it's only just that--

-- somehow the gym muzak at that moment forced itself into my awareness, mid-prayer. My eyes opened wide as it dawned on me what the song was- Silence In Your Heart, Dash Berlin. Which has particular special significance to me, as it was on my very short list of heart-healing songs after I went on my 3 month "Silence Diet" after finding out about my Ex. During that time I voluntarily listened to NO music, as it stung my soul like a cheese grater on a 3rd degree burn. I couldn't fucking stand music of any kind. For months. And then, Mr. Man showed up in my life, and brought healing and music with him, weaving it back into me like pins in a shattered knee. And I began to wake up thinking of him, with music in my mind every morning. I knew as long as I was with him, I'd never lose music again; he wouldn't let me. I would never again wake up with silence in my heart. But this song is kind of a cheesy arena trance song, so I've never really told him it makes me think of him every time I hear it, but…in truth, it always has, privately.
The lyrics are:

You will never again wake up
With silence in your heart
You will never again wake up
With your whole world torn apart
And I will be your shelter and
These tears will be your last
You will never again wake up
With silence in your heart


…yeah. I broke. I broke down, laughing and crying at the same time, uncontrollably. Ask God for a sign, & sometimes He answers by clanging your skull with a clue-by-four.
I removed myself to a private dressing room stall so I wouldn't trouble anyone with my moment of spiritual Eureka, and in the privacy of that little cubicle I silently let my tears flow, giving this burden up to God, and surrendering myself to Him and His Will, ultimately. Maybe that song was about Mr. Man, or maybe it was more about God telling me not to worry so much, that He will always take care of me and I can at least trust in Him.
But I took it as the OK I needed to release the forgiveness in my heart that wanted out, and to let go of my fears for the future because we are both works in progress, Mr. Man and I, and maybe God isn't done with either one of us yet. I recommitted myself to serving God, letting God lead my life wherever He wants me to go, and asked Him to guide the steps of my feet, the work of my hands, the thoughts of my mind, and the words of my mouth, as always. I also asked God to help Mr. Man and I both grow in Love and serve His purpose, our Higher Good, and basically to help us fulfill our reasons for incarnating on this planet and finding each other here. I felt a lot better, lighter, more free.


When Mr. Man picked me up from the gym (he didn't come in himself, because, sick-) I noted it had been about an hour (the length of time I originally asked him for at my friend's place, which he now had volunteered, maybe trying to make it up to me somehow), and he seemed relieved by my lightened mood.
He handed me a paper sack containing a present - a cake of peppermint/lavender goat milk soap, which was awesome, because I know he would have had to have been thinking of me with a positive notion in his mind earlier that day to buy me any sort of gift. I took it as his way of apology.

I haven't forgotten what happened and I feel like Mr. Man and I need to have a more serious conversation about this when he is feeling better and we're both calm. But I have forgiven him for this instance of breaking my heart, and I am trusting in God to see me through the rest of my life, not earthly lovers, and just remembering that has given me back a sense of sure footing.
silentwaters: (silent)
I survived first contact with the Ex-Wife.
It was weird: she contacted me over Facebook to offer me an earthworm farm. Politely.
"Hi [Silentwaters],
I'm purging my house, [Mr. Man] said you might be interested in a worm composting system. Let me know and I'll set it aside for you. It's been in a storage shed for years, but I think it only needs a good washing. I hope all is well with you."

To which I replied,
"Hi [Ex-Wife], thanks so much for the offer; sure, if you don't think you'll use it, I'd be happy to clean it up and try it out. My mom and I used to do a lot of organic gardening, and earthworms are really beneficial. I'm getting ready to replant my backyard so it might come in handy! Thanks again. :) And I hope all is well with you and the girls, too."

(No need to be bitchy, right?)

to which she replied,
"We're doing very well, thanks!
I'll put the composter aside for you when I dig into the storage shed. I'll get to it as soon as I can. I hope they fare better with you than with me… Lol"


… o_O

…o-…kay…
Well, so she seems nice enough so far.
I have no doubt she was feeling me out but… if we're gonna play nice I'm down with that. I see no reason to be unkind, divorce is difficult enough all around and I have no wish to cause her any extra pain, and if I could somehow magically fix the situation so that Mr. Man and his daughters didn't ache with the loss of each other, I would. His 3 year old daughter told him last time he visited her that she cries a lot when he is gone, and sometimes at night too. It breaks my fucking heart, man. When hear Mr. Man talk about it, I know it breaks his heart too. He misses those kids so bad. I wish there was something I could do to heal it. And...I sometimes feel sort of guilty that I get to be in his arms every night and they don't… but then I remember it's not about me at all, leaving was his choice; he would still have left her whether I even existed or not, but… I do exist, also, and my life is… worth something, isn't it? And the tides brought us together and… she didn't want him anymore, and basically cast him away, but to me, he's been such a blessing, and I love him freely… I realized I loved him even if he chose to go back to her, and if it came to that, I would let him go, out of that love, even if it cut me deep. (not saying I wouldn't argue with him a bit to make sure it wasn't just a passing whim, but… I don't stand in the way of people pursuing their destiny with conviction, and if he'd decided that staying with her for the sake of the girls was the right thing for him to do, I would have no choice but to support him.)
But he has stayed here with me, and his presence in my life has been healing, and I know I've been good for his sanity, and he has no desire to go back to his ex, because by all accounts they were just making each other miserable and they both seem more at-peace now that they're separated.

So at-peace that she's "purging her house" and offering me a worm farm, lol.

so… okay, that's where we're at for now. If we stay on this surface level of cordial behavior I think it could be a very workable dynamic.
silentwaters: (silent)
I couldn't help it, just wasted a bunch of time reading back through several month's worth of entries related to Mr. Man. Good Lord, how disgustingly cute is the word vomit, huh? Gag me with a spoon. I'm sorry. I read like either some horndog sluttin or some anxiety ridden manic monkey. Thank god pretty much nobody reads this. I only post here when it's shit I can't really talk about to anyone else but I can't keep it in my own head. I swear in real life I appear way more well-adjusted and calm, lol. I believe most humans are that way: convivially boring skins wrapped around intense molten cores of feelings we never talk about.

Anyway, I noticed that over the past several months, I've gone from broken and sort of trying to accept this new relationship into my life and heart, to sort of accepting that it's there, and becoming way more at peace with it.
We've started to pull together and invest in this relationship more. I thought through my issues with leaving this town, and I decided- it doesn't really matter. If he leaves, I'll go too. If he stays, I'll stay. I stopped trying to freak out and overthink it, and decided to just open my mind and heart to wherever the Universe is trying to lead me next. We're off to a good start, with this new phase of my life. I'm digging the 'onward & upward' nature of it. Funny enough, after I calmed down about leaving, he started to seem like he's calmed down about staying. One night I found him crying in the dark in bed over his little girls. I know he's got to miss them terribly. I felt so heartbroken for him. I know he wants them in his life and hopes they might come live with us eventually. I think it has a good possibility of happening. I'm alright with that. I'm starting to have faith that whatever happens, we're gonna be okay.
I don't know. I keep returning to this idea that I'm strong enough now to survive if he leaves me, but at the same time, I... still feel like I need him. I know what sounds like a paradox. But I mean, he's been a great, healing help to my broken heart. I feel like I'm so far away from that shattered girl I was a year ago. I cried cleaning out my closet, because of the painful memories it dredged up.
Now I can handle it without issue, because he came in and found me crying and hugged me till I stopped, and I got over it and realized I was okay, it was going to be okay. I don't have to be so sad anymore. I have a lot of sad memories, but I've put them... like in a padded wooden chest in the back of my mind. I don't have to open it and live surrounded by those feelings anymore.
And I hardly talk to my ex anymore. I've barely written him letters. I feel... on one hand, I feel terrible about abandoning him, but on the other hand... it's ... the only way I could find to move on. And Mr. Man gives me a reason to look toward the future, instead of gazing back at the past in tears. He lets me be in my own headspace and wrestle with my own feelings, but he comforts me.
I know my ex is struggling with clinical depression, medical burden, a shameful criminal record, and the loss of me, and his tearful apologies are almost more than I can bear, when I think of everything we had, everything we lost... it's not in me to be a traitor to true love, and I thought that's what we had, and it's easy to feel that by moving on, I'm somehow betraying promises I made in the past.
But he... asked more of me than he ever had a right to, I gave freely, he abused my innocence, and in the end, he fucked me out of my ability to trust him or keep him as a legitimate part of my life. You don't repay the person who nurses you through cancer by cheating on them... with a 14 year old. How the fuck am I not supposed to feel furiously betrayed by that? How the fuck am I supposed to defend him as a friend, much less a husband? He's lucky I didn't burn every last scrap of his belongings in a bonfire. But I was good, I visited him in jail, I showed up to every court date, I listened to all his remorseful apologies, I gave all his shit back to his family and didn't fuck him out of anything. There was no "cathartic revenge". All I asked was that he simply let me go now. I had swallowed enough pain for him.

And so now here I sit. I should be doing other things, and yet... alone with my thoughts, I can't help but wonder, even now, if I've done the right thing- allowing myself to put that old "true love" to sleep in that padded box in the back of my mind. Shacking up with someone new, someone who makes me... ridiculously, wonderfully happy, and allowing myself to bask in the warmth of that love even though it terrifies me sometimes... because I never imagined I would have it this good. All I've known for so long is how to eat pain, how to make peace, how to sublimate myself so that the rest of the household would stay calm.
Now I don't have to... I don't have to do that anymore.
Is it... so terrible of me, to unscrunch my heart and... let go of the past and... just... embrace the future with foolish abandon?
I don't think there's anything served by being a control freak.
All I am is a collection of cells and space dust and a meta-observer-spark, moving from scene to scene in what we call a "lifetime", absorbing the emotional content and spiritual lessons of each experience... letting some shift my paradigm, and allowing others to fade away.
I think that's all any of us ever are.
And so... I let go. I let go of him, my ex, even though it makes me sad to lose him. He took himself away, really, and I didn't get a say in the matter until it was too late. I really... honestly wish him well- I wish him understanding, inner peace, and if possible, a better life when he gets out of prison... just, far away from me.
And I let go of my attachment to this town- wherever I go, there I'll be. I'll make the best of it, I always do, that's how I roll. And I let go of my fear that Mr. Man won't keep me around, because every time I seem to fall into thinking that, he does something unexpected that proves to me he cosmically belongs as my partner for this next leg of the journey, and I don't know how long that journey will be, but I'm determined to walk it with joy and gratitude.
And I realize without fear of loss, I'm starting to feel stronger than I ever have before.

I remember a shattered version of myself, stumbling around with a death wish, unable to tolerate music, much less human company, too numb to cry, too fucked in the heart to give anyone a smile, nearly dead inside.

And now... I'm totally different... I feel more balanced. More calm. More inspired. Able to create again. I'm able to create again!! you don't even know. I felt so robbed of that when my sexuality got cut off. My deep love, my intimacy core, my root chakra from whence I draw my creative energy... the longer I starved, the less I was capable of. But now, I feel like I can... do anything. just.... yeah. Love makes such a huge difference. I am so full of wonder and gratitude.
I know I keep saying that but... I'm not taking any of this for granted.
silentwaters: (silent)
I don't think I even finished the last post I was gonna make here, about the amazing sex we recently where he actually came twice (so... that, uhm, apparently DOES happen. Not a myth. I'm going to ridiculously understate my secret gleeful wonderment here by saying, "wow...huh." Because if I tried to describe what was really going through my mind when I thought we'd had our fun and done only to realize... nope... we could...and should... probably keep going... I... think you would think I am crazypants. or crazyNOpants, as the case may be. *ahem*)

Aaaaaanyway.
THEN there was the uuuhhhaahhhmazing sex we had this morning, which has left me glowing all day, and he's been kissing me with this satisfied smile on his face all day in a way that makes my heart completely melt into a little pool of butter... err, look, I am sorry to all 3 of you who might stumble across this blog in perpetuity... I know it sounds like I'm bragging but that's not my intention really, I just want to honestly record the GOOD in my life as much as I recorded the bad... it deserves at least as much acknowledgement, right? And seriously, look at the like 8...almost 9 years of miserable lonely frustration this blog ALSO describes in the course of my life, and you'll understand where I'm coming from... it's not that I'm prideful about this, I'm just ridiculously, pathetically happy and excited to be actually with a good lover for once in my formerly god-forsaken life.
It's improved everything. My faith in myself, my motivation to make art and music, my ability to be patient and compassionate with others, my spiritual peace... it's not like I'm just some horny slut (okay, okay, I have always been a horny slut I guess, just a very tightly guarded completely celibate, desperately chaste horny slut, who could only occasionally find some ghost of satisfaction in the hidden prison of my own mind, but that's beside the point)... but I mean... I'm... a whole... being. And my sexual chakras have been blocked and neglected for... years. And now... they're unblocked. And I am starting to feel whole again, after feeling so broken and useless for so long. Jesus. To feel rain in this desert... to feel like my normal healthy adult sexual appetite doesn't make me an overly demanding monster... to feel wanted, or... desired... to just... to have someone affectionate and open-minded to feel... 'normal' with... fuck, now this is making me cry.

Dammit, none of this is what I was even trying to write about.
I was compelled to write here because... he left me to go to work, but as he was running out the door, he came in the office to tell me, "You know, I was thinking... Every girl I've ever been with, I've eventually compared her to a car, and decided what kind of model she was..."
I smiled and raised my eyebrows. "Ohh?"
"Yeah," he continued, "You know, like "Annie" (2 exes ago) was a Fiero... People mistake it for a Ferrari, but it's not."
We both laughed...
"And "Maryanne" (recent ex-wife) was like an old Chevy..."
I knew I was next. I held my breath, wondering what he must think of me... All the demons in my head started chattering at once. You're shlubby in your tattered jeans and falling apart sneakers. Frazzled. Colorful and weird- like something with mismatched body panels from a junkyard. You have weird ethnic jewelry hanging off you like some taxi cab driver's tassled Saint Christopher air freshener. You're definitely not like other women/cars, and surely you're not powerful or sleek enough to be something svelte like a Lambo, or cute and tiny and fast like an actual street racer, and not fashionable enough to be a hipster hot rod... you're kind of like that late 90's station wagon- a little heavy, still fairly useful, only slightly cooler than an actual minivan, but requiring more upkeep as you age. Not many people would seriously bother owning you unless they saw your peculiar charms... you're a statistical outlier, to say the least...
All these thoughts ran through my head like a flipbook, and my stomach sank and I grimaced and braced myself for his judgement.
"...but I came to the conclusion that you... you're not a car at all. You're more like... a flying carpet."

REALLY!?!?!?
Fuck. Yes. Right answer. Dingdingding, you are CORRECT, sir!
In fact, I am the happiest, most plush flying carpet you have ever seen!
And you can ride my soft welcoming curves to new adventurous horizons anytime. ^_^ <3


He just seriously made me the happiest girl in this whole town tonight. Can I please marry this guy already?

Dinosaurs!

Feb. 12th, 2014 01:52 am
silentwaters: (silent)
…So, amazing BJ? Can and did. :) Oh yes, I showed my appreciation. I think he felt appreciated.

*ahem*
Anyway.

He took me to see a cheesy dinosaur movie tonight at the dollar movies simply because I suggested it. (Because I love/have loved dinosaurs since I was six. I was seriously obsessed with them as a kid and wanted to be a paleontologist when I grew up. Plus, it was only $1. I mean, come on.)

I messaged him like, "you wanna go see a cheesy dinosaur movie for a dollar? Come get me from work right now, this movie starts in half an hour."
And he was like *radio silence for 10 minutes* "I'm here" (in the office parking lot)

LOL!
o_o
I didn't even say please (which in retrospect I do feel bad about; I was only jokingly being demanding, I never seriously "demand" anything), I was just like, let's fucking go! and he was like, aiiight. Down.

And then I did not have any cash on me, and the dollar theater only takes cash (as you might know from dollar theaters in your town, they are not exactly high-class establishments, and can't be affording to pay merchant processors for no fancy-schmancy credit card machines) So he shelled out for tickets, popcorn and soda.
Total cost of our impromptu "date"? $12.

The worth of feeling loved and important enough that he'd immediately leave his office, come rescue me, and immediately take me out on a silly little date just because I asked him to go?
Priceless.

And yeah the movie was kinda more childish and less "science-y" than I was expecting, but… he still sat through it with me and I… am frankly taken aback that a guy would do this for me, just like that. It's… weird. I felt pretty… worthless around my Ex for the last several years of our marriage. I couldn't ask him to do anything without feeling like I was being a horrible imposition, a total drag. Spend time with me? Take his attention away from his precious couch and computer games? Two hours away from his pack of cigarettes to which he was perpetually chained? Quelle horreur!

But this guy is like, Shit, I can take you to the dollar movie on a random Tuesday night, let's fucking do this, Dinosaurs, fuck yeah!
(You can tell I am one classy bitch, I am sure.)

(I …should probably admit here that, while I am an Ivy League degree holder who could talk wine shop with any snob or sommelier in town, and he could hold his own in that crowd as well, I just avoid those people most of the time and he indulges my idiosyncrasies for some odd reason.)

I love him SO much. I can't even.
I mean, my inner six year old has a huge crush on him for being so awesome about Dinosaurs.
And then, the woman I am now is like… <3_<3 Mr. Man, why U so nice to me?
I'm sure I'm not the hottest girl he's had and as much fun as we have had in bed I'm probably not the best lover he's ever had, though I do try to just be really good to him because he's so good to me… he's surely handsome enough to take his pick of any number of ladies out there.
Why me?
I don't know.
I don't know if it is real (what is reality?), I don't know if it will last, I don't know what goes on in that deep mind and heart of his. But I don't care. It feels real, and it feels like it has staying power, and it feels like he genuinely …gives a shit about me, like he really seems to care…for me- I don't mean like in a cute fluffy way but like… he shows me with his actions. This guy is about action rather than talk. He opens my door. He pulls out my chair. He holds my hand. He spoons me to sleep and lets me warm up my cold toes on him under the covers. He makes me tea when I am sick. He's driven me to work every day for the last 3 months since my car broke down.
He's kind to my mother and my mother likes him. He's … he's the real deal, you know?
So real, it's hard for me to believe it. It's like a dream. I fell asleep in his arms last night- he kissed my shoulder and squeezed me warmly to his chest, not pressing for sex, just being comforting...and I was just laying there like… this doesn't happen in real life, this doesn't happen to real people, what IS this? How did I luck into this? How did he… find me… and… how… do I deserve any of this?

I guess I should just… enjoy it while it lasts. Maybe it will last a lifetime. Maybe we… will get married, and make music and raise a gaggle of adorkable nerdbabies, and travel all over the world with them, and grow old together, and be each other's sweethearts till we're both old and grey and our time on this rock is up. Wouldn't that be something?
But that sort of thing is only for fairy tales, right?
silentwaters: (silent)
My boyfriend is amazing, la la la la la
I don't know, I just have that stuck in my head like a little song on repeat, because it's 2 in the morning and he just left to go to his studio to pick up audio cables for me so I can record properly in my home studio tomorrow while he is at his office studio. (this is like a 20 minute drive away, in our only working car which has bad tires and is even riding on a donut right now.)

Like, to put it in perspective it's like the 2 am run a really nice husband would do for his pregnant wife for pickles and ice cream because she's craving it really bad.
Only I'm not pregnant, and I'm "craving" audio hardware. So he went to raid his professional stash and bring me the goods.

Seriously?

We've both been in sort of a funk these last couple of days because money's tight and there are some other career/insecurity/existential issues cropping up and we're dealing with the "real life is not always fun even when you're pretty okay in the relationship department" grown-up worrying kind of disgruntlement. He's been a little distant due to his own frustrations and I've been agitated and battling my own internal demons and feeling… I don't know… waves of my old depressed self trying to come back and take root. Which I've been fighting, but it's hard. The good news is we have kind of been doing a little subtle emotional loosening up/ reconnecting/ trying to get over it tonight, like we went on a walk and made some prayers at a local Buddhist shrine and he took me for intense chocolate dessert and espresso, then we came home and worked on audio shit and watched some nerdy documentaries (like ya do) and he seemed warmer and more relaxed, but it's not like our stressors have magically disappeared; there's still shit we both gotta deal with.

But, if my insecurities were causing me to doubt his love for me at all, they can GTFO right now because, whose boyfriend runs to get them XLR cables in the middle of the night?

This lucky bitch: >>Me.<< My boyfriend. LOL. I mean, okay, it's more than just a couple of XLRs, there's other stuff we both kinda needed and I know half the reason he left is because A)we're both still up and wired from the chocolate / espresso earlier and B) he's an even bigger audiophile/nerd than me, and it probably irks him even more than it irks me that my setup is incomplete and I wouldn't be able to properly work tomorrow without these things, but... I can't properly express the level of adorkableness he holds for me right now. And also the gratitude and sort of even... awe. That I'm feeling for him right now.
Just the fact that he would go out and do that for me… I just… explained to him I wanted to be productive and record / work on my music production tomorrow and… because I had a specific work goal in mind he is being supportive and even bringing his professional resources to bear to help me reach my goals.
Which when I think about it, is so cool of him, and really… just… humbling and empowering at the same time. He makes me feel like I can do anything.


I am going to give him such an amazing BJ for this. :D

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