May. 2nd, 2015 05:19 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
He told me he dreamed last night that he was doing important work in a large bay or estuary, protecting some endangered species of spiny lobster or crab. Because of this he was out on a small motorized dinghy ('like the ones the alligator hunters use' he told me, which I assume to mean sort of humble and a little rusty and dubious-looking) with his two little kids, and his ex-wife and ex-mother-in-law. He said he felt like he was doing important work for the planet, you know, like fulfilling/ meaningful work, and that the kids themselves were having fun- thinking that it was cool to go sailing with Dad, and that their dad was a pretty awesome guy. But the ex-wife and ex-MIL were nothing but judgmental bitches. They didn't think much about this boat he was in, and the ex-MIL was like, "yeah, great, you're saving the planet, but what do you make, like, $3 or $4 bucks an hour?"

Welp. If that doesn't tell me everything about his internal dialogue right now, I don't know what would.
Poor guy.
I just wanna give him a hug.

I'd tell him it's gonna be okay, but I know he won't believe me until he feels like he's sailing in a real seaworthy ship, not a ragtag dinghy.


May. 1st, 2015 08:33 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
that very night after posting that last entry, we had a fight. He decided to be a passive-aggressive bitch about some things. I called him out on it. He didn't like it. We spent two days being raw and sore over it I think. I really had to fight down my nausea and fear and take the lead on pushing for reconciliation. We did reconcile, and we've accomplished work together and had some sweet times together since then, but I feel he is moody and depressed lately and I can't seem to pull him out of it. I am paranoid and insecure and terrible shaky about abandonment issues so on one hand, I jump to this conclusion where he's over me and hating me secretly and this isn't working and oh god oh god we're over... and on the other hand, I feel he is seething about things that have nothing to do with me. He finally got an interview offer with the company where I got this new job, because I put good words in for him and passed his resume around and stuff.
But instead of being happy about this, he's only seemed to become more moody in anticipation for this interview. He's brought up his frustrations with being broke a couple of times lately. Not in an attacking way, but... like in an almoust mournful way. (I barely have a few paychecks under my belt and it's mostly been sucked away to desperately needed bills and overdue rent, etc., so while we're doing better, we're not... doing "great" yet). He got a letter from the state attacking him for not paying child support. But we just did our taxes and combined, we made less than $25K last year, and most of that was mine. He got a couple of small royalty checks, and I kept the roof over our heads and groceries in the fridge and insurance on the cars.
It really is getting better, now that I have this job. It sucks to be under the legal gun, and when he does finally get a job, 20% of it will go to child support off the top, but you know... that's okay. We're doing okay. We haven't starved yet - we've eaten a lot of rice and beans but... we aren't homeless, we aren't naked, we aren't immobilized, we both have our relative health, I mean... we have a lot to be grateful for, the way I see it.

But he's so heavy when he's like this, and I don't know what to do. We had sex twice in the last month. Twice. Well, and I went down on him once, altruistically letting him finish before I got any, and I set my revved-up engines on the sidelines thinking, we'll get back to it later tonight or tomorrow, I'll be okay, he won't leave me hanging.
Only... he did. We haven't had sex since then, and not for lack of me giving him suBtle hints. He seems put off by physical contact, grouchy... I'm kinda worried. He smells a little different too- something sweet, like he'd showered in maple syrup- but we hadn't eaten or drank anything sweet like that that I knew of. I noticed this the other night, when I tried gently to interest him in a little sexytime, because I knew I'd be starting my period soon and not feel like it for about a week. He brushed me off with some comment about how I must be putting off different pheromones around this time of the month because he was so not interested in sex right now.
I tried not to take it personal. But really- he was the one who smelled different to ME, and I only noticed it because once he said something, it was kinda on my mind in bed that night.

He keeps mentioning being sick of being so broke he doesn't have gas money. I haven't started making enough money to give him an "allowance" of some kind, but I definitely don't skimp on trying to make him feel cared-for. I buy groceries I think he'll like, I take him out to dinner and spend money on him, I buy him beer, I pay the rent and car insurance, I try to help with other small bills I know he has if he asks- this paycheck I just got, yesterday, was the first paycheck I've gotten from this job that was a) an actual full, not half, paycheck and b) had all my health insurance and stuff taken out. So FINALLY, I can start to budget.
And with that budget, I was hoping to be able to give him some "walking around money" or "gas money" or whatever he wants to call it. And yes, it would be even better if he had his own job, and his own money. And I know he intends to, and he's trying, and he's probably nervous about this interview because it's the first solid thing that's come down the pipe for him in over a year. This is a legit company with legit salary and benefits, and which would be solid on his resume.
I think in his mind, that's making this interview a Big Fucking Deal and he's stressin' it, hard, but is too proud to admit it. I think he probably needs to run around and scream somewhere. I desperately wish I could afford to take us on a vacation somewhere remote and green, but I'm not quite that flush yet.

I think this very long time of suffering poverty is really hard on him. It's harder on him than me, for some reason. He almost takes it personally. But there's no one to blame but himself (too harsh to live with) or the world/the economy/the job market (a contributing factor for sure, but too vague to make any difference).

Honestly... Here's the thing. Life is short and I intend to be happy for the rest of the little while I've got here.
I don't know if that involves tethering myself to a sullen imperious self-centered dude who can't deal with being on the downside of life. Life doesn't owe you an upside. You have to roll up your sleeves and make that part happen your damn self, honey. My life is GOOD now, because I DECIDED it was. Not because I'm #winning, for real. But because I decided what my attitude would be about all this, and it involves smiling, being grateful for small things, forgiving, and continuing to feel empathy and compassion for others. I sleep better at night than I did in 2013, let me tell you. With or without Mr. Man to warm my bed.
I don't know if my happiness involves enduring pregnancy and painfully pushing 18-plus-year-Commitments out of my vagina.
I don't know if my happiness involves giving up the momentum of all my education and professional accomplishments (which, okay, last year was not financially great, but I'm learning more and more what value I really hold) to be a stay-at-home-mom to raise these progeny, which he seems old-fashioned enough to want to set us up that way-- but-- and I would never cruelly press him on this, but the truth is- I haven't seen any evidence of his earning potential setting him and ANY family up that way yet. It kind of canned his last marriage. The one where they hella wanted kids so bad, they did IVF - twice.
Then, he became the stay at home dad, and she kept working- being jelously bitter about his "luxury" of staying home all the while.
I'm a different woman than his ex, and love him for completely different reasons, and if we ever DO marry and have kids, our dynamic WILL be different, I assure you. But if he expects old-fashioned values and virtues out of me as a woman and mother, I need to see some old-fashioned values and virtues out of him as a man and father.

My happiness involves things like "makes music" "takes a year off to serve with UNICEF in some 3rd world country making a literal difference in people's lives" "hiking beautiful mountains" "enjoying art gallery openings" "Performing music in as many countries as possible" "strengthens and maintains caring bonds with family members back home even if they're difficult to visit" "decorates house eccentrically without giving a fuck about others opinions and whether or not every sharp edge is kid friendly" "Sleeps late on saturday mornings" "has loud sex because it feels awesome"

Like... I appreciate that the struggle is real, but I'm not here to wipe your ass, bro. I can be happy, and you can buoy yourself up on my happiness, or... you can continue to be a morose asshole and drag us both down. But only to a point.
Because one thing I will never allow a man to do to me again is: Destroy me.
At some point, I will cut myself loose and survive.

That isn't a threat. It's just another decision, and one I came by the hard way, almost killing myself in despair over the last guy. Never again.

That being said, I do love Mr. Man. When he's calm and happy he's so warm and good and fills up my emotional cup till it runs over, and he has the power to make me so glowy inside. All these things I do for him, BJs with no reciprocation, being the breadwinner for both of us without complaint, etc.- some people might look at this relationship and say "he's using you" but I don't feel that way at all. I'm not buying him rI feel like you take care of your tribe, and he's part of mine now, and I'm the one with the earning potential that's getting utilized, so I put into the tribe what I got. He is contributing in other ways. He does the dishes every fucking day (I hate dishes and if left up to me, they'd get done maybe 2-3 times a week) and often he cooks too. He just repainted our whole downstairs and is about to do the stairwell/upstairs. He's replacing the carpet with hardwood floors to help keep our landlord happy and talking about replacing the kitchen linoleum with actual tile... so I mean, he's really trying to make himself useful around the house. I can see he is trying to make himself useful while waiting to hear back from these jobs he's been applying to. He's a fantastic lover when he wants to be. Love isn't about checking off line items on a balance sheet. It's about feeling like you're "home" when you're with a person. And I do. And so the rest of the details are nobody's business but ours.
Even so... I wonder if the problem is that he keeps expecting me to drop a bomb on him about "earning his keep" or if he feels emasculated that he isn't the breadwinner, or if he's really feeling guilty/scared about his child support (he has never ONCE had an attitude of intending to shirk that responsibility off. He just literally has made NO money this last year. He's basically been dependent on me, and I'm sorry, but as willing as I would be to contribute as a step-mom or whatever to his kids... uhhh... this last year I needed 100% of my net income for me/us. His baby mama was making more than both of us combined. So. The intention is, and has been, for him to get a job and immediately start paying child support, so he's been applying and applying, but he's gotten a lot of rejection letters, dead-end leads, and not a single viable job offer yet. As frustrating as that is for "us", I can tell it's hardest on him. His ex-wife has been gracious enough to let him come visit/take care of the kids at her house once a week, even though he hasn't been able to pay child support, and he loves those kids and they love him, and he's staying involved in their lives which I think is great. He clearly isn't lazy and he wants to contribute. He just... financially can't, yet. And I'm still kinda strapped just taking care of the two of us. Thankfully, with this interview on Monday, that may change soon. I'm sure that's why he's assigning so much weight to it, even though he knows he probably shouldn't, and he's just a ball of tightly coiled emotion over this. Lots of conscious pride and "fuck this town" and "fuck this job market" and probably also lots of subconscious "fuck I need this job so bad" "fuck I hate feeling this desperate" "fuck my life, I know I'm worth more than this ridiculous struggle" ... he would probably never admit it feeling actual fear and shame over this, even subconsciously but... I would understand, if he did.)

Anyway. I'm not even mad, bro. I'm not angry with him and he's ostensibly not angry with me, and nothing's "wrong" per se, but I feel like... something's "wrong" anyway. I am hoping it's just the job interview process and that maybe he will finally get an offer, and relax a bit.
I know those feels; I just went through them all 2 months ago. It's a hairy rollercoaster and on the surface I was placidly calm and all like "I got this" but inside I was fucking flipping my shit.

All I know is, right now I'm on my period, I'm in some pretty serious need of some intimacy and reassurance from him, but I'm too fearful/proud/sensitive to mention this to him because I'm pretty sure all he is thinking about right now is his own needs and god forbid I intrude and make myself one more fucking burden.
I kind of suck at this part. Like what should I say? "I know you're feeling like shit, but I need you to love me and tell me you think I am awesome right now?"
I'm pretty sure he doesn't think I am awesome right now. What I feel from him is mild resentment reminiscent of the days when my Ex couldn't provide and couldn't fuck me and was feeling pretty shitty about himself. I didn't know how to help him then either.
But the truth is, no one can help anyone until they decide to help themselves.
But he's got so much potential, so much skill, so much talent, and so much potential warmth and goodness in him... I believe in him, I really do. I think he's been beat down so much in his life, especially by "the women". He seems to have ongoing woman-trauma from his mother and some abusive ex-girlfriends, and I'm not like any of those chicks. And I think sometimes he's relieved, and sometimes he just doesn't fucking believe it. And maybe he feels like the balance has gone out of whack long enough that he feels he owes me or something, and he can't fucking stand being beholden to anyone- which I get, man, I totally get that. I refused to live on my parents dime or ask them for help ever, because I'll be damned if they'll hold something over my head.
But I'm like... not here to hold shit over his head. I just want to be treated with the mutual warmth and respect I offer to him. I just want to be appreciated for being an awesome girlfriend to him sometimes. Like... where else is he gonna find a chick that will buy him beer, blow him hard, pay his rent, and not ask for a goddamn thing in return? He isn't. So maybe it's too good to be true for him. But I have my faults and he hates them so much. But fuck, man, I'm not perfect. I never claimed to be. I'm just generous and kind. That's what I got. I ain't got much but I've got a heart and I'm willing to use it. Not to tie him down, but to free him up. I don't think he's ever had that before. I can only offer an open hand and hope he continues to hold it in his own.
I am just going to continue to be kind and supportive and believe in him and pray for him and hope that he is the man I think he is, and that he will stay the course and not bitch out on me.

Because that would be... extremely disappointing.


Apr. 22nd, 2015 08:54 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
I keep wanting to post here. But there's been no time. And my life is not set up to give me time, space, peace and quiet, or internet access at the same time. I have those things individually, just not together.
Today is no exception, I really don't have time for this either. Ha!

But just wanted to say things are going well.
Really... really well. For the first time in a long time, things are really looking up. I might even stop holding my breath sometime this year.

He's talking about buying a home and getting married like it's already going to happen (no official proposal yet though, but he's been making stronger allusions to it lately and laying out some more financial details to me and stuff that requires a level of trust that implies he is dead serious about me... I find myself actually looking forward to it (a proposal from him? A marriage to him? both, I guess) with a sweet feeling in my heart... which is so weird. It's ridiculous that I could even think about hoping to have this in my life. Life is... I... I... I don't know. I don't know I don't want to jinx anything ...omg.)

But for the first time in my life I feel like... I'm becoming a real woman, and I want to give this... real...woman...ness... to a real man and... I have a real man I could actually... theoretically give it to. And it's making me all giddy and fucked up inside. But not in a bad way. Because I'm still a realist. And I know there are no guarantees in life. But I feel like... as risky as it is to be in a relationship with anyone now days...
...God help me, but... He is a chance I'm willing to take.

This floaty feeling in my body is either healing grace, or blissful stupidity.
But whatever... I'll take it.

K gotta run for now.
silentwaters: (silent)

I am so so pathetically relieved. And I feel like a sellout going back to the corporate world after a long stretch of being self-employed, but freelancing is so feast or famine, so stressful... I love the freedom and I absolutely intend to get back to a place of financial and time freedom at some point in my life but the truth is, you have to spend money to make money, and I was operating at a deficit from day 1, and when my biggest client dropped out from under me last fall, I was fucked. No amount of scrambling and hustling could make up for the operating capital reserve I just... did not have. Almost every dollar I made went right back into the business, or into feeding me and Mr. Man, or putting gas in our cars so we could continue to gig and scrape by. Every little software license, every little run of business cards getting printed, web hosting, business licensing, taxes, health insurance, it's like... fuck, man, when do *I* get a cut? Oh, and there's that whole, "never actually being off of work", thing, that happens when you're self-employed. I'd put in 12-16 hour days at my little hovel of a shared office space, come home, flip open the laptop and put in another few hours of work before sleeping with developing ulcers from the stress of all the stuff I had left to do, and always worrying about the next invoice and the next client I could drum up.

So. In that sense I was a slave to my own self.
I would absolutely work for myself again, but I need to build up a cushion of savings and operating capital first, and look for ways to capitalize on alternative corners of the market with better yeild. I was kind of stuck doing work I could just immediately... DO, without additional training or professional development, for quick cash, which is basically web and design stuff. Which I am okay at (and frankly I'm much better at it after a year of real-world experience), but I don't love it. I would rather be in business for myself doing something I LOVE, with the luxury of a financial cushion to float on between gigs. Also, I'd like to get into real estate investing because I believe that's where real wealth lies, but you need a little capital to start that up. Using other people's money is a possibility, but ... to really gain facility with that, I need time to learn more in depth about it, or shadow someone/find a mentor, and that's all unpaid time where I am not even earning money for a fucking pizza. The paydays are good from what I understand, but I'm not stupid- it's the wait-around-OMG-is-the-deal-going-through time that's killer.
That's time and emotional energy I simply can't spend right now.

So for that reason, when I got the call with the job offer, even though it was a Big McCorporate Job, and I hated myself for taking it... I took it. I figure I'll work, pay off all the debt I can, save as much as I can, and try again later.

They offered me a significantly higher salary than I expected too. About $10K more.

so... soon we will NOT be as broke-ass as we have been.
Mr. Man and I have both been breathing a sigh of relief, not just a single sigh, but...like, an extended ability to eat our rice and beans with patience, and to be kind and patient with each other during this financially bare-bones time until I start getting paychecks under my belt. I literally felt an internal knot of energy around my solar plexus loosen up and relax away, from the very center core of my being, when I got the job offer phone call. I previously had been unaware I was even keeping tension there, but I physically felt... softer, and more expansive, and just... lighter.
I got my first half-paycheck last Friday and it's already spent- instantly sucked away on bills and household necessities like toilet paper and dish soap-- but it was so good to actually go grocery shopping.
I literally bought bacon on sale for $2.99 and I proudly told Mr. Man that I "brought home the bacon" and we both laughed.

Also, around mid last month, we had about 3 days of amazing marathon sex, but then I got a UTI (sigh), and couldn't afford to go to the doctor or anything so I just treated it naturally with cranberry juice, etc. which does work, but takes a lot longer than antibiotics. And then I got really sick around my birthday with a flu-like crud, and then was on my period, and also I couldn't even afford my pill prescription last time, so we've been voluntarily laying off the sex; we haven't done it in almost a month. I kind of smile to myself thinking how that would have freaked me out in the beginning of our relationship, but now I can kind of take it in stride, we seem to go for some periods of time where we fuck like bunnies, and then kind of lay off and relax a while. Usually not this long, I mean, but... it isn't unusual to have sex 3-5 times one week, and then the next week, maybe not at all, and then the next week, more good sex, but it's not like we're stressing. We just kind of have an ebb-and-flow rhythm like tides, I guess. And we still flirt with each other all the time so that's good. I feel like I'm not stressed about it as much, and he seems to have shifted his mindset somehow in the last couple of months about staying in this town that he hates, and making the best of it.
I'm not sure what prompted the shift, but he seems more relaxed with me, and more stable than ever. I actually think it's his kids- I think they grew up a little more and he's starting to get intrigued with them as little actual people, and doesn't want to leave right when it's getting good. And he's starting to be more realistic about the fact that moving takes money, and a plan, and we have had... NO money. And so he was forced to confront the reality that we couldn't even afford to rent a U-Haul to go anywhere, much less pay regular rent on any decent place once we arrived. So without some savings, some room on the credit cards, and a reason (like a good job offer or plan) to go somewhere else, there are just... more reasons to be here, than not. I have a good job now, and his prospects are improving, and there's still a path out of here, but it's a long game, not a quick fly-by-night operation. I think maybe he's coming to grips with that in his own way.
But we're about to go through the extremely hot summer here, which he fucking hates and gets terribly bitchy about, so we'll see...But... he actually seems somehow more content, and resolved to make the best of it here for a while, especially since I got the news about this job.

We finally broke our dry spell last night, and I was really nervous, because my body has just been... freaking out for the last month, in terms of pH balance and feeling daily, sometimes hourly, whether I'm still struggling with a UTI or not, or feeling "okay" or not. And this last week I've been feeling good enough to be horny again, but yesterday, it was like my adrenal system went, "Sex? Nope. Couldn't care less." It was like one shade shy of "Do Not Want". But I could feel it was a chemical/adrenal lack of desire, not an emotional one. Mentally and emotionally I missed being intimate with him and sensed it had been too long. But the UTI was gone 2 weeks ago, and I've been feeling healthy enough for sex for over a week now- I've just been giving myself a lonnnnng window of time to make sure I'm ok, because I didn't want to give it to him, or have another flare up myself, and was so tired of being miserable myself. I've adjusted my diet, cut out almost all sugar, been using up the nutritional supplements I've had laying around the house - more conscientious about taking my vitamins every day and drinking LOTS of water, etc. Taking better care of myself overall.

And as it turns out... it was really good. Not just because I felt no subsequent pain or "uh-ohh" feelings, and not just because it was so fun that we did it some more this morning, totally for fun and just because we could, for the hell of it, and that I'm still feeling pretty great overall this evening. ;)
Last night was... like... it was REALLY good. The quality of the orgasms was really amazing and nice, but besides that... I just felt like we really "made love" together, I mean... he was so tender and just... warm and giving, and he lit candles and everything, and the candlelight was (as cliche as it sounds) really actually romantic, and made us look soft and glowy, and after he had very generously spent some time on me without getting much in return (yet, lol but he knew I wouldn't leave him hanging) he seemed really satisfied with his "handiwork", lol, and made some very nice comments about how he likes to make me feel good, which made me feel awesome because... you know, I appreciate someone not just spending time and effort on me, but taking personal pride in it. And later when I was returning the favor... he was making happy noises, but then suddenly it seemed to go to the next level and he let out this... low, soft moan... almost a pleading tone, but mixed with pure pleasure... now, mind you, this is a man who Does Not Beg. He doesn't plead, he doesn't submit. But in these little tiny moments, I feel like... I must somehow make him feel so good, he lets his guard down with me and allows himself to be vulnerable, even if only in that one small noise...and it might sound silly, but I treasure that. (And fuck, it makes me so hot to hear him moan like that. But also, wow, it's a state of trust, you know?) And from that small noise, it seemed he was in a state of wonder & bliss... and he murmured, in a very honest way, that he hoped he made me feel as good as I make him feel-- which again made me feel awesome, because...I take pride in my "work" too, and to know that he felt that good, and also that he felt it was something to reciprocate... that even in that moment of pure pleasure for him, he found even a couple of brain cells left to think of me, and verbalize it... good lord. It just makes me want to take him straight to heaven for as long as I can make it last for him, you know?
And in between our various positions - because we took our sweet time-- there was a lot of just... laying close together, gentle caressing and smiling at each other in the candlelight...just being quiet, but feeling close... and after we were both sated, he snuggled me in his arms to sleep... and I just felt... really appreciated and... loved and... *sigh*
You know... I have felt insecure in this relationship a lot. I've struggled to feel worthy, to feel okay, and worried that he doesn't love me as much as I love him, or that I'm putting myself out on a stupid limb here, and he's just going to get fed up with this town and leave in anger, and it won't even be anger AT me, but that I'm just not... good enough, hot enough, interesting enough, or...something, enough, to hold his interest. And he's usually not verbal about his feelings a lot so, even though I tell myself it's all in my head, and that... he wouldn't have stayed even this long already, if he didn't like it... it's hard to believe, when I don't hear words out of his mouth sometimes.
But his actions... speak volumes. He cooks for me, he cleans, he holds my hand everywhere, he opens doors for me, he really... looks out for me.

We went on a walk the other night, and he told me... he really saw himself making future plans with me, and that made him feel happy. I was... kinda bowled over, and super happy, but at the same time, I felt like... Thank God, finally, some assurance that I'm not wasting my love here, that at least... he is going to make a good faith effort to be a real partner, and he doesn't intend to leave me behind and abandon me for some small infraction or twisted mental reason... It's a stupid fear I know, I know it's probably left over from my Ex, but things were so solid with that guy for so long - 14 years!- and then... He'd been cheating on me with an underage girl and her mother for 8 months under my nose. Lying to my face about it. Just... Fuck. I mean, how am I ever supposed to trust my own sense of judgment after that? To say nothing of extending that trust to another actual free-willed human being who has all the choice in the world? Like, my feeling for the first year was, fuck trusting other humans ever again, and fuck me and my blind stupid ass. I was wrong. You don't get much wrong-er than that.

But the truth is, my Ex hadn't been treating me well for a long time. There was a lot of lip service in theory but a lot of neglect in practice. There was a lot of selfish path-taking on his part, and a lot of me ignoring it, forgiving him or making excuses for him for it. There were a lot of promises made, and almost none followed-through-on.
And there's... "believing the best of someone even though they're being an asshole to you right now, because you've known them long enough to remember when they were so much better, and you're hoping they'll improve, and 14 years is a long time, and it's rough right now but you're going to stick it out and not abandon them even though this is hard, but you have compassion for everything they're going through...but wow this sure is painful, but you know your pain shouldn't matter, because what they're going through is way worse than what you are going through--" You know, there's THAT frame of mind--

--And then there's, "observing that this person does what they say. They follow through. And everything about their actions indicates care and concern for me. And they haven't ever let me down yet. And they are lively and involved in the relationship with a fairly equal amount of give and take."

That's...just a different scenario. Maybe it's a scenario that merits... actual consideration and trust, I admit. The first one is kind of making excuses or making the best of it. The second one is like... more of a real... "relationship" instead of a co-tolerance, or co-existence.

Mr. Man has just continually been there for me and he like... I know it's maybe still stupid of me to trust anyone, but... he does keep proving over and over that he'll come through for me. He is supportive and even protective of me. I'm not even sure how to accept or deal with that sometimes, but I'm... too soul-exhausted to argue. And sometimes my survival instincts act up and I get all paranoid and I feel flighty, like, what am I doing here? Why am I letting him in my life and why am I letting him fuck up my heart with all these... these FEELINGs and what the shit is this-- he puts his arm around me and I kind of melt into him like... like...
... like... it's everything I ever wanted...

And I struggle with admitting this to myself because after 14 years with the ex, I really considered him as much "family" to me as my own blood family. We had been close friends and then lovers and then spouses and all that time was effectively half my lifespan.

But Mr. Man... feels like "home" to me.
It's... different.
I just feel... home, with him. Like the thing we do where we live together, where we have "life together" as my Ex used to say,-- no, before he and I had co-existence together.
Now, with Mr. Man, I really have "Life" together with someone, and he's real, and he's present, and he fills up my life with light and energy and dreams and personality and physical intimacy and laughter and music and culture and cheesy 80's movies and houseplants and bacon and adorable children.
And who knows? Maybe someday we'll have kids too, and the thought of procreating always terrified me before, but now for the first time in my life, thinking of being a parent, having him as the father, and my life-partner-in-crime, raising a little gaggle of kids and having a messy, beautiful, laughter-filled, exhausted, juicy, rainbow kaleidoscope of a life, it appeals to me almost more than it terrifies me, and...Jesus, that's saying a lot. Because, I am still pretty terrified, lol.
But... the thought of a house full of kids and pets and sunlight and plants and family dinners and like... all those weird things you think about when you think of "homey-ness", I feel like he and I... we could achieve that, we could have that together, if we really wanted. And it would be good, it would be that idea of "home" that we both... aspire to create. We would do it... I think...I have a feeling we are the kind of spirits that would be those people and it would be good, and our kids and pets and plants and house bugs would be happy...

And even if we don't go full-family-enchilada, like if what we end up with is a geeky, eclectic-ly decorated house full of musical instruments and pet fish and his kids only come visit on shared custody days and we makes snacks for them and read stories to them and take them to museums and then get our "adult" life back when they go back to their mom's house, so we can stay up late and do music gigs and stuff too, that's cool and okay and home-y too. Whatever we do together, we're Home.
The point is, it doesn't exactly matter to me how it turns out, I just... kind of look forward to seeing how it all unfolds. I want to look back with him at the end of a long life together and smile a knowing smile at him, and feel him smiling back at me.

He has stuck it out with me in this extreme poverty for almost 6 months now. He has eaten so many beans without complaint, literally. (oh my god, we eat so many beans. and so much rice. And so much rice and beans together. *sigh*) He still manages to laugh and make me laugh.

And I felt like last night when we were making love... it was like... he really... made me feel wanted. Or like... that he derived pleasure out of giving me pleasure, and it was so... it was so uplifting, to feel that way, that I mattered to him, somehow... that... to someone... it matters that I am there, and they want me to be happy...We have had a lot of good "fucking" by now in our relationship, but this felt deeper and warmer than before.

Ah, I love him so much.
Maybe this will really go the distance.
And things are actually looking up...
silentwaters: (silent)
Today I was a pauper and I hung out with 'kings'. They wanted my company, and to pick my brain.
One believes I'm literally a good luck charm in tournaments he's playing.
The other was a lonely old widower who was intrigued by the fact that I can talk about the stock market and sustainable energy, and then he started asking my advice about seeking a new relationship, a sexual relationship (but preferably one where there can be emotional warmth and where he can get satisfaction out of pleasing his woman). Like, he asked some fairly inappropriate questions which I'm sure were part oblivious social uncouth-ness -- hello, generation gap-- and part testing me to see if I would flinch from an uncomfortable subject.

I may be 30 years younger than this guy, but I have had every kind of monogamous sex. I have cleaned vomited poop off my favorite shoes in a hospital. And I have helped my ex-husband shave his asshole, and change his ostomy bag. I've stared death and suicide in the face. I've cared for drug addicts. I've been the first confidant several gay people have come out to. I have endured fundamentalist religious preaching on multiple occasions. I have, in the breadth of my experience, had my ability to feel "offended" rather… stripped away from me like varnish wears off an old violin.

I no longer flinch from uncomfortable subjects.

I'm always stuffing fear & to the back of my mind in these situations, along with my nagging sense of self-belittling- I'm literally overdrawn today, and one of these chaps lost $50,000 on a bad investment last year and just shrugged it off like it was nothing at breakfast-- there's a huge difference in our net worths, and they both have a couple of decades on me in age- so I feel like I have no Life Advice to give them that they haven't heard of, and no… I mean, I've got nothing to offer but my company, really. I'm certainly not going to be this widower's paramour but I could tell he was all but bursting to ask, "But where can I find a woman like YOU?" because he was impressed with my ability to hold an intelligent conversation, and be warm and friendly.

Is that really worth so much in this world? Is is so rare, to find a woman of…substance, maybe? My worth is certainly not in my looks or my bank account.
I literally was crying on the way to meet them because I owe one of them thousands of dollars and I only had a meager $125 as payment to give and I have no idea what to do and I just got $150 for my birthday in well-meaning birthday card money, and I went to deposit it in the bank, so thrilled that I had an extra $150 to pay him now-- only to find my car insurance had hit for $190 and now I'm overdrawn until monday. But OH YOU'RE SUCH GOOD LUCK HERE COME STAND BY ME WHILE I PLAY THIS TOURNAMENT OH MY GOD I WON YOU REALLY ARE SO LUCKYY PLEASE COME HAVE BREAKFAST WITH ME TOMORROW SO I CAN PLAY THE NEXT ROUND OF THIS TOURNAMENT WITH YOU…
Fuck my life.

(But hey, if it keeps him from dwelling on all the money I owe him, I'm not going to argue. Whatever he wants that is in my power to give and isn't unethical or unsavory to do, I kind of owe him to do it.)

I'm really… so poor, and I'm so embarrassed about it that I never really tell people how hard I'm struggling and they don't understand why I'm so serious and I never come out when I don't have to anymore. I just don't make a deal out of it. I don't know why that's important, it's not that I think I'm an "impressive" person, like... I don't feel like I have much of a facade worth keeping up, I'm not "fashionable" in any sense of the word, that's simply a luxury I can't afford to think about- but it's just that… you know I don't … I don't want their pity or whatever, either. I just want to appear "normal", whatever that means.
Like… I avoid as many invites as I can, but if I DO go out, I don't want to appear like I can't afford a freaking hamburger, you know?

I work so hard, and I don't hardly have any vices - I don't smoke, drink, or do drugs. I don't buy porn, I don't buy shoes. I don't buy makeup. I don't buy fancy jewelry - I've been wearing the same recycled pieces of glass, wood and plastic for years.
I rarely buy groceries and we really stretch it out with staples. I space out when I eat because I don't have enough money for food all the time. And some of the dollars that end up in my fist HAVE to go right into the gas tank of my car, and thank GOD I still have a car. I wince when it's time to buy toilet paper and coffee.
Like, I'm so broke, it's really laughable. And I'm trying so hard to either A) get this business off the ground or B) get a "real" job- I got to the third round of interviews at a company I really liked last month, then they dropped me.

Then I had to take a week off and go visit my parents out of state because I'd been putting off the trip, but my dad has cancer and it's way worse than he's accepting or telling anyone.
Now I'm interviewing for another company, but I lost a client because I was gone out of town. Oh, I communicated, but she still got pissed (honestly I think she has a friend telling her they'd do the job cheaper than me so she was making up stupid objections even though I completed over 25 hours of work on her project), and I had to refund all her money, which was more than I had, so Mr. Man actually ponied up the cash out of his latest check so I could tell this unrelenting bitch "Bye Felica" and we could both regain our peace of mind-- truth be told, I'm so fucking relieved she's out of my hair now, and so is he, but Oh My God, did we need that money so bad. Fuck, fucking fucksticks. We're so goddamn broke.

(Sidebar: Yes, I did just say my dad has cancer, and it is bad. I don't have the emotional energy left to write THAT post right now. But no, I did not just gloss over it because I don't care.
The pain of that is so huge I still can't comprehend it all at once so I'm setting it aside to deal with it bite by bite, which is how you have to eat any elephant…but I digress.)

The sign out front of the hotel this morning where I met the guys was all, "FREE VALET" and I pulled in and the valet was like, "make sure you get it validated inside by buying something or we'll charge you the normal $12 fee."
I about had a heart attack. Not only did I not have the money to buy anything, but the $5 dollars in one-dollar-bills I was selfishly keeping for myself instead of turning over to the Man I Owe, was not enough to cover the fee if I didn't buy something.
Luckily, OweMan took me and the other guy out to breakfast (his usual preferred pretense for me paying him), and on leaving the restaurant, I asked the waitress for a validation stamp, which she gave me.

I parted with one of my five dollars when I left to tip the valet, who gave me a dirty look.
But I need those other four dollars bad, man. In fact I used one tonight to buy myself two tacos at jack in the box because I was starving and hadn't eaten in over 12 hours. Now I have 3 dollars left.
I don't know what the fuck I am going to do if I don't get this latest job I've been interviewing for, or find a new client to pay me to do a job for them soon.

And this gazillionaire is asking me how he can find a warm and willing woman, at a rotund and denial-stage-of-grief (his wife passed in December from cancer) hornballin' 60 years old.

Lord have mercy.

To be fair: since I've been caretaker for a cancer patient, I know that he probably hasn't gotten laid in a couple of years. And now he doesn't even have anyone to snuggle up with. And that… that state of being hurts. It's starvation. And I feel it, I feel it so keenly in empathetic waves and I wish I could fix it for him, because I know how bad it hurts to starve and starve, and you know… even if *I* was a millionaire, it wouldn't have fixed my touch-starvation, you're just fucking incredibly lonely and your skin aches for the touch of another human being and you cry yourself to sleep at night until you don't have any more tears, and then you ache yourself to sleep at night, dry and as thoughtlessly as possible because thinking about it or dwelling on it hurts worse and you're desperately trying not to dwell, trying to be a good person, trying to keep a stiff upper lip, and inside you're just …screaming to be heard.
It sucks.

But you know… he's 60, he's been married twice, he's lived a long a fulfilling life, and I… can't do much for him.
I don't give a fig HOW rich he is, or how poor I am, I'm not for sale, and I'm not interested in fucking him. I've got a good thing with Mr. Man. And even if I didn't… OMG. I don't think I could. I don't think I could do it, with a big old man like that. Not yet. Maybe when *I'm* 60… the very idea would at least be more appropriate, and I'd be on a similar wavelength in terms of physical energy and desire, etc. Right now, just… no.

I don't mean to sound like "I got mine already, so fuck that guy" but… He will have to take some responsibility to go out and meet people doing quality activities if he wants to meet a quality woman, and that's exactly what I told him. I'm going to recommend a millionaire matchmaker service to him too.

I feel like calm focus is required to walk this high wire and keep my balance. I'm not trying to lead him on but I was stuck conversing with him thanks to the first guy, to whom I owe money, and the lonely widower was FirstGuy's invited companion. So it wasn't my idea of a great time, but nevertheless, one must offer polite conversation when one has literally nothing to her name but wits. I mean it's literally all I have, is my head… and my heart. I am continually amazed at how everyone seems to fall in love with me but I am increasingly unable to help them and it's wearing me down. I've got nothing to give other hurting friends, not even gas money.

I'm so glad you've noticed how awesome I am.
Could you maybe HIRE ME SO I CAN EAT?

silentwaters: (silent)
I woke up this morning before him. And I rolled over and laid my head on his chest, and put my hand over his heart, kinda, and without opening his eyes, he immediately clasped his hand over mine, and wrapped his other arm around my shoulders, nestling me close, turning his chin toward my head and resting his beard lightly on top of my hair.
It was so sweet and instinctive.
I let my eyes drift closed again and just smiled into his chest so big, because I couldn't help it. A single thought drifted through my mind.

'I am the happiest girl in the world.'

I just laid there in the quiet, smiling with my eyes closed, infused with sunshine streaming through our curtains and a feeling of warm sparks drifting up and out of me, I felt as golden and light and fizzy inside as a glass of champagne.

The nearness of him does that to me. It has ever since that first night that we "slept" together, laying chaste and fully clothed all night on a friend's guest bed with the room door open, no sexual activity, just… enjoying each other's physical proximity.

'Wait-' I thought suddenly, my eyes opening-- 'did I just think to myself, "I am the happiest girl in the world"? …why?'…

I didn't move but suddenly became cognizant of my thoughts in a more wakeful way. I was staring at our hands together. His resting calmly on top of mine, our thumbs touching.
We haven't had sex in about 2 days, so it wasn't post-coital rush of oxytocin.
We had both gone to bed exhausted from working late last night, without showering, so it wasn't that good-good just-showered "mmmmm" thing. And he was actually wearing a t-shirt and boxers so it wasn't like that… skin-on-skin contact high that sometimes happens.
I wasn't thinking about anything in particular, no particular memory or joy or sadness or hope or plan or particular aspect of him or our being together. I wasn't thinking of all the things I have to worry about, like our money and job situation and the interview I just lost with a company I liked, and the one I have next week with a corporation I'm unsure about, but they basically headhunted me. I wasn't thinking about the upcoming visit with my family which is going to be stressful. I wasn't particularly horny. I wasn't thinking of anything, just kind of drifting around in the brain state of having been in REM sleep less than 5 minutes ago.

And that was just my genuine thought, that came out of nowhere, while quietly laying in his arms.

I am the happiest girl in the world.

gosh, I hope… I mean I know there are only two certainties in life, Death & Taxes, but… as foolish as it is, I hope he really does stay around.

I know he's not the MOST handsome or the MOST witty or the MOST compassionate or the RICHEST or the MOST perfect but… can you even imagine, compared to where I was in fall of 2012, where I really was pretty convinced I had no reason to even stay on this planet anymore, and was about ready to fuck off and kill myself because I was so fucking done? You can't. You can't even imagine it, unless you've lived through it, or something similar- that's no disrespect to you, Dear Reader. I can hardly imagine it myself now, and I was there, I still remember it. (Though I admit, my life now is much healthier, to the point I hardly find the need to obsess over that darkness on a daily basis.)

And whether it is true that I am, in fact, the happiest girl in the world or not… the point is that I genuinely FELT this way, for once in my life - a pure and unfiltered thought, rising up like a bubble to the surface of my consciousness, and popping in a puff of ephemeral photons once I actually noticed it.

I'm not gonna over think it, you guys.
I'm just happy and grateful to be alive.
silentwaters: (silent)
We're… skittish of each other but recovering. Some good things have happened- he left to run an errand and when he came back to the office he wasn't so mad, but both wounded, we held our tongues in check. There might be more we could each say to each other but we are weighing the cost of every word; neither of us relish conflict.
I got a weird check in the mail for a refund for overpayment of late fees on an old loan I had to default on. I haven't engaged with this company for years. Like… in almost 7+ years. They're not even the same company anymore, the old debt servicing division has split off now and is handling this refund initiative in response to… a class action suit? or Government committee oversight? or something.
I'm still trying to determine whether this check is legitimate.

But it happens to be… in the exact amount… of what it would cost me to file a divorce in this state.
Exactly. To the dollar.
This money came out of nowhere.
I'm still doing my research - I took it to my bank and they said it looks real, and I can call the issuing bank and inquire about the sender of the account. A google search on the matter/ some forum posts I've found seem to indicate I'm not the only one who's recently received a check like this, and that it may, in fact, be absolutely legitimate.
And if it is… well… it's clearly a sign, what that money came to me for.
God, we're so desperate for so many other things right now.
But it's… it's to the dollar.
I really try to think with my skeptic hat most of the time but… the timing and the dollar amount are really uncanny.
It's got to be a sign. I feel like this is a "get out of bondage free" card from God, and like ...if I use this money for anything else BUT the divorce, it will be bad juju on me.

I told Mr. Man about the check and he was pretty amazed as well. He knows we have money problems but he agrees with me that it's pretty uncanny, and he stepped way back emotionally to demur like, "it's your money and yeah we have other financial needs right now (car insurance hits on the 20th and I don't have 100% of the money needed for that yet, but I do have clients owing me money right now and I might be able to call the insurance company and have them push out the charge date)… but yeah, this divorce is important and you yourself need it for your own peace of mind…" So now it's about me, not him. *eyeroll* But you know, I will be honest, he's right, this divorce is actually MORE important for me than him.
No offense, but Fuck Anyone Else when it comes to my life and the timing of my personal business, including, frankly, Mr. Man-- I didn't get all up in his business about his divorce and I've been nothing but supportive of his relationship with his kids, his ex-wife, etc., I'm SO not about creating female drama and I would never question someone's right to be an involved parent. So I expect him to give me my space to deal with my ex marriage in kind (and yes, so far, he's given it. He's only mentioned it like twice, once being last night. So that's why I'm a little iffy on how deeply he says it bothers him, but OTOH it IS something to be bothered about, and it certainly bothers the fuck out of me myself. I just have never been yet able to afford to fix it. I mean I have been desperately broke for such a long fucking time, it's become… a way of life. I'm not on welfare, I'm not on disability, I'm a hard worker, but I've been fucked over a lot in my professional/financial life- one bad decision, a couple of land mines, and some snowballing family drama, it's a thing I don't really use this blog to write about, but still, it's… a running piece of shitty Karma in my life, or a challenge lesson I'm here to overcome or something. Money is the bane of my fucking existence. I have never been comfortable in my adult life. Things like home ownership, raising children, or being fiscally responsible for a dog or cat, are things desperately beyond my realm of hope, I just have to laugh thinking about it so I don't cry. I have my pride and my work ethic so I try to never whine about it but to just find another solution and another solution and another solution, constantly hustling. So I'm working on it. and now at 32, with this last year of working my ASS off incredibly hard, I'm happy to say it's FINALLY starting to pay off, a little, and I see light at the end of this tunnel. Entrepreneurship is not for the faint of heart, let me tell you, but I realized a while back that if I ever wanted to make real money, I would need to be in business for myself.
But for now? I'm a beans and rice, never more than a quarter tank of gas in my car, 3 months behind on my rent, $40 overdrawn, terrible credit (permafucked by student loan hangover, FICO will firmly leave my credit score in an income-to-debt ratio shithole until I'm making over 6 figures, thanks), no credit-cards-having, using cash-only like an illegal immigrant lifestyle, if-I-don't-have-the-dollars-in-my-fist-I-don't-spend-them, broke-ass bitch, and he KNOWS that, and I was very upfront about my poor, nearly bankrupt, struggling life before he joined me, so for him to not contribute to rent or car insurance and then have the gall to cast aspersions on what I am or am not doing with my money, fucking kills me sometimes.) He had no stake in everything that came before he was a part of my life, and I really DO want and need this divorce for emotional closure- it's for me, not him. And have needed it for a long time. But it's like… I'm an old scarred-up warhorse, yeah I'm trotting through the woods with this fucking arrow stuck in my leg, but it's just a fucking arrow, I've got to keep going. It's just bleeding a little bit, I'm fine. Okay it's a little infected but it really only hurts when I move, but I can still move, so it's not that bad. You know?
Like, I made some money-ohhh look it's gone to rent and bills again. I made some money again-oh look it's sucked away on this or that minor emergency. I made some more money-- fuck, had to spend it to keep my business going because my main client just bitched out on me. So that "marriage license"? It's just a silent record in a database. It's just a lie in some government file. It doesn't affect anyone one a daily basis really, except, you know, me and my heart. And maybe Mr. Man and his heart, because sometimes I get the feeling he does want to marry me but can't even think of proposing.
I'm not actually married to that other guy, that world-destroying criminal, in my heart. I haven't been married to him for a very long time. The state doesn't care how I feel though. They just want their fee. A fee I don't fucking have. So I'll buy my last bit of freedom once everyone else is taken care of, you know? Once I'm financially solvent to the point that the legal fees don't mean my landlord isn't getting paid and I'm risking another month of homelessness.
Till then I'll keep marching forward with this annoying arrow stuck in my leg. That's all.
That's how I've felt about it.
Until now.

Now I feel like… I've been granted a weird reprieve by a ghostly hand.
The Universe reached out and said, here child, have the money to buy your freedom and just so you know it's not a coincidence, we're going to make this weird check refunding you for money you don't remember paying come out of nowhere for the exact dollar amount you need at this very moment.
(I don't remember overpaying particular fees. I do remember paying on this loan and wincing every month handing over 50% of my take home pay until I just couldn't anymore, and I chose to pay on cancer medical bills for the ex instead, and defaulted on this loan, so… it is possible I overpaid back then. It could be true.)

Anyway so there was that.
Then there was the fact that we went out last night (listen when I say we "went out", understand neither of us even drink alcohol. There was no cover charge. And it is good for business/networking so we kind of treat it as a professional obligation and pick our nights out carefully to show support for people who support us, which is how we both get business, and no, we're not drug dealers, lol. We did spend the gas money to get there. I put $5 in my tank but with oil prices at an all-time low I still have some left today.)
It was a productive night. We made good contacts. We each got hit up for creative project collaborations, some of which might be paying. We got offered to do a joint paying gig (2 months from now, but still, yay). And one of Mr. Man's friends as good as offered him a job, stating that he was going to try to get them both in on a well-paying opportunity with a major corporate that is hiring guys in their line of work right now, here in town, because they're expanding. The friend has 3 contacts on the inside and he's talking really hopefully that he can get them both on the crew.
That really seemed to cheer Mr. Man up a lot.
We don't count our chickens before they hatch, but so far, everything this friend has talked about, he has delivered. So that's a good sign.

And there are the two interviews I landed. One is tomorrow evening.
So we'll see.

We went home later than we planned because it was turning out to be such a professionally encouraging/good networking night and we were both enjoying the music and conversation with different people. It was freezing in the house; we turned the heat up, took some orange juice and vitamin C, and split a can of soup because we were starving, and then went to bed exhausted. It was about 5 in the morning. While he was downstairs heating the soup up, I went upstairs and put fresh clean sheets on the bed. I'm about to get my period and neither of us was feeling romantic or energetic enough for sex but I still felt it was a small free luxury we could have.

When you have nothing, it makes you appreciate the little things.

As I climbed into bed, he seemed… flat exhausted but still in a vaguely snuggly mood. It's hard to explain what I mean by that but… he was scooted closer to the middle of the bed, and seemed to be in a posture to welcome me to his side rather than roll over and keep me at a distance.
He was also making his little "hm" noises. That is also weird to explain. He makes these sounds sometimes when he wants to invite sexual contact. or when he's expressing pleasure. Or closeness/intimacy. It's a sweet, small thing.
This was in contrast to what I expected; we still seemed to be guarding ourselves and neither of us has yet apologized to the other.
Fighting with him is weird to me. I don't know.
I sensed he wanted closeness but I was not in the mood for sex and I couldn't believe he was either. But I laid there and snuggled up to his side, and laid my head on his chest. His arm was up and his sleep mask was on, but he was half pretending to be asleep already, and half making these little sounds.
I thought of a million different things I could say. Some happy, some sad, some condescending, some pleading, some honest, some harsh, some hopeful…
In the end, all I said into the darkness was, "…I still love you _so much_, you know?"

He made a muffled noise of surprise that I'd talked out loud, like, "whuu?" and then he took it in, and sighed out a long, tense breath, and relaxed under me, leaning into my body. He brought his arm down around my shoulders and squeezed me tight to him. We "melded" more comfortably, and fell asleep that way.
It wasn't an apology, it wasn't an attack, it wasn't a demand… it was just a statement of honest enduring love. I think maybe love takes harsh truth in stride. And still accepts anyway.
There was no make-up sex and he hasn't apologized or anything, but he's been much nicer to me today and is in a better more hopeful mood.

I hope our job situation pans out, and soon. I do love him. But sometimes I just get so weary and I feel like there's nowhere to truly find any solace.
I'm guessing this is sort of a hallmark of my generation though.
Yayyy millenials, we're so fucking entitled and shit.
Well that's not true. sometimes in his arms I find solace. It's so sweet and peaceful, it's worth all the pain and suffering I had to go through just to be in that moment of "home". But... I feel so guilty about it sometimes though. Like I hope I'm not pulling on him, draining his energy, I need to give back as much as I take so I don't wear him out, my starvation is so deep I remind myself it is not fair of me to expect any one person to fill up that hole, I have to, have to bear most of that burden myself, always and forever. And like maybe his daughters should be in his arms, not me. Like maybe he's only with me because I am the only one who would let him have these deep suitcases full of drama and take him under my roof without question and still allow him his pride, because I understand what it means to struggle and survive and need to keep your pride about you while you carve out your own path in this world.

But sometimes... sometimes, I like to think he's holding me in his arms because he actually wants me there, that he realizes I'm good for him too.
Sometimes I allow myself to think that. Sometimes I think I'm stupid to believe that. But in the moments I believe lie all the magic in the world; I can do anything, if he loves me. I feel like superwoman. It's what makes me keep fighting for our relationship, I guess.


Jan. 13th, 2015 09:05 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
I wish I didn't love him.

He's so fucking cold sometimes.

We just had a "fight" sort of, but I guess at least we're conversing. It's painful and we each have kind of given low blows to each other, but I actually stood up to him and called him on some of his shit directly.

Here's the thing, I love him a lot and I even trust and submit to him, willingly. I desire him and I appreciate the fuck out of him.
But fuck, he is a moody bitch sometimes, and he whines a lot without getting his shit together or making a fucking decision, and he really isn't helpful or supportive about the stress I'm going through, even though I hold it in and hold it in and hold it in forever until I explode in a ball of tears. And his cognitive dissonance makes it hard on me, because I'm trying to be supportive of him, but he changes his mind every few weeks about whether he wants to go or stay, and he gets so wrapped up in his attitude of haterade that he really can't make any useful contribution to the conversation anymore in terms of solution paths, except to pace like a pensive lion over well-trod cliches of hate for this town & its struggling people, and to make wishful suggestions about what *I* could do better with my professional life (hey buddy, wait a moment, let me get my compact mirror out of my purse so you can look at yourself while you spout that line).

So here's the thing: I'm a survivor at the end of the day, and I love him a lot, but I already decided to survive back when I decided not to kill myself over the ex and his drama.
So I will survive with or without Mr. Man, and that is the truth.

I'm going to quit caring so much what he thinks, and go make my money. We're both trying to run small businesses right now- the difference between him and me is, I'm actually getting paying gigs NOW.
They're not paying much. We're not making our bills yet. But I'm just starting out and I have next to no resources to work with, so everything I build is either free, a "trial period", or hella cheap, and I'm figuring out how to leverage all that shit as fast as I can.
You'd THINK that would garner some respect, considering *I've* been the one to keep a roof over his head and put food on the table since he moved in, without a 9 to 5.
(Oh, I'm also dropping resumes left and right. You know what? I got 3 leads tonight. TONIGHT! After praying about it really hard this morning, and after suffering through bank overdraft drama, covering my own ass with the cash I got handed for honest work yesterday, then having a super-embarassing convo with the landlord where I explained I only have half his money and he refrained from chewing me out and kindly accepted what I had, but OMG I'm SO FUCKING SICK OF THIS, and then having to apologize to another friend in a band who I promised to go see that I can't go because I really no kidding can't afford the fucking $10 cover charge right now, I'm that broke-- I FINALLY get 3 leads. 2 responses to resumes I sent out, and one contract job lead. Tonight. And I broke down in tears, because I was alone in the office and just was so fucking relieved and thanking God, seriously. And then he walks in and digs at me until we're basically fighting, and I let him know, you know, I'm busting my ass over here, and all I need from him is a little emotional support. And the next thing I know he's bringing up the fact that I'm not divorced yet - HELLO, in my heart and soul I've been cut from that former person for 2 years now. August 17th, 2012. That's when it all ended for me.
You know what I have now? A piece of paper somewhere in a city courthouse that I can't afford the legal fees to change. That's it. It's $300 I don't have and haven't had for 2 years now. Because I'm fucking broke. Because I took in another human being under my roof and I've been supporting us every since, on my meager $10/hr job and then my starving entrepreneur phase.
And now, now that I'm FINALLY getting some fucking traction, now that I'm FINALLY starting to get gigs by word of mouth and some things are finally panning out, but I'm still begging my landlord to take half rent and not throw us out? He brings up the fact that my lack of divorce bothers him greatly.
I don't know if it truly bothers him all that deeply, or if he's just saying that because he thinks it's a low blow that will hurt me like I hurt him, because I said some things to him (not yelling, just pointing out his coldness) that seemed to hit home (I finally let him know what I think of him behaving like an emotional black velvet curtain, absorbing compliments and good energy and not reflecting them back, for example, I'll say, "I want you to be happy," and instead of saying "I want you to be happy too" he'll say, "Thanks, I want to BE happy too." He'll do this with all sorts of compliments, he takes it, makes it more about himself, and refuses to give a gracious response. Like, selfish much? Same with "I love you". Not only does he never say it, but he won't always say it back, either. Then I feel 'punished' for displaying the weakness of emotionally expressing myself. I don't know if this is "negging" but we're wayyyy past a mere PUA phase of relationship by now so I think it's got to change a bit.), and anyway, he came back with some darker/harder stories about his childhood root of these behaviors, and then this divorce thing, sort of… I mean I love him so I'mma take it at face value of him telling the truth. But a more suspicious /worldly person in a lover's quarrel might see it as a form of one-upmanship.

Well, if that's the case, it won't work. I can't work at building my business any more diligently than I am. I can't get a job and quit working for myself unless someone responds to an application I've submitted. And I simply haven't had the money since the trial ended and my car got towed, eating up my last reserve of savings, and we've been living hand-to-mouth since then. And I sure as hell don't have $300 to spare now. We have to eat. We have to have gas in the cars, and we have to not be homeless.
You can't squeeze blood from a stone. So what-the-fuck-ever, if he thinks it's a low blow to me. Believe me, getting free of that piece of paper is in the top 3 things I'm trying to afford right now. If I could get it done any faster I would. I don't want it to be a wedge between us either. And it cuts to hear him say that it is. But if he can't reconcile wishful thinking with harsh reality, or pony up the cash to help his own lady out, then, WTF, honestly. (I understand if he feels this is something I should do on my own - I feel that way too, I'm just saying, as a general rule, if you think I should be doing something with my life that I can't afford, pay up or shut up and let me work on it my damn self and try to have an ounce of fucking compassion since I'm working so hard to *please* you.)

Anyway I'm just venting.
All our problems are ugly, and of the "put on your adult undies and deal with it, cupcake" variety. I have an ex and truckloads of drama. He has an ex and two kids he isn't able to make child support payments on, which his ex-wife needles him about constantly, and he really fucking loves those kids and wants to do right by them desperately so it's salt in an open wound every fucking time she lets him visit them. I just want to cry for him and those kids. I wish I could afford to help but I'm so strapped myself!
But I'd rather support each other than tear each other down. I know it's hard to look past each other's baggage. But all have sinned and fallen short… all of us are diamonds in the rough.
It's only love and faith that get us anywhere at all. That's it. That's the lube that makes the world go round.
I'm trying, I'm trying to maintain that love and faith. I'll keep trying till my last breath, so I can leave the world even just a smidge better than when I came into it. I'll keep trying whether I get to keep him in my life or have to let him go because he doesn't get it. Neither of us are perfect but I love him anyway. I pray that it all comes together, the money, the creativity, the love… I'm weaving as fast as I can, hoping against hope that my story will have a happy ending in the long run.
Maybe whatever gestalt ghosts haunt these faint online hallows can help me.
silentwaters: (silent)
Lately I feel fairly secure about our relationship, and I don't really know why. I feel like he has… 'settled down' or something, like something in him that was a flighty-bird energy has just… relaxed onto its perch or something. Either that or I'm getting better at accepting his non-verbal cues in lieu of him actually saying "I love you".

Poor guy is actually really sick today and I'm at the office working alone. It's nice to have solitude I guess, but… I actually miss him. That's ridiculous, I mean… we're together all the fucking time. All. The. Time.

I never thought independent ol' me would be okay with this. But he seems to expect and want that closeness so… I defer to him in that. Also, we're poor, and working hard, and saving every penny so driving to the office together, cooking/eating at home together, etc. saves money.
And you'd think we get sick of each other (I feel like he *should* be sick of me sometimes), but then he reaches out for my hand and I'm like, "awwh…" *melt*
Which could be seen as so... 'puppy-love high school crush' and all, but… you know, neither of us are that young anymore. Neither of us are unscarred by life, by broken relationships; we've each had our share of pain and depression. Both of us are sarcastic, and jaded, and we know there aren't any guaranteed happy endings. We can't afford many luxuries or false comforts anymore. We don't have time for bullshit anymore.

So that somehow makes it all the more sweet, that he wants to reach for me. That he lets me lay my head on his chest while we fall asleep, even though I'm sure my heavy skull digs into his shoulder bones and probably makes his arm get a charlie horse every night, and my hair probably gets annoyingly velcroed into his beard hairs and tickles his neck or nose or both, and sometimes we're just uncomfortably hot when pressed together… but he pulls me in tight like he wants me there… almost like he needs the reassurance of my presence.
I need the reassurance of his presence too, constantly. I don't know why. Sometimes he's *right**there* and I get this sudden rush of fear that he is going to disappear before my eyes, a fleeting dream fading out of my empty arms, because he's just too good- well he isn't, he's bad and good like any human, he's… not perfect and never will be, but to me… he's so beautiful, he's just unreal sometimes, with his soft curly hair, and his beautiful eyes, and his mischievous smile, and his warm, welcoming body, and his brilliant mind, and his struggling soul, and I don't ever get to have such nice things, it's like… defying the laws of nature somehow, that he's in my life at all. That there is a living precious human being breathing in my space, and here I was half-dead after my divorce, all set to become a sexless frumpy old maid / crazy cat lady- but even though he's rescued me from that for the time being I know some day, life (or death) will separate us. So it always ends in tears no matter what. You know? But for now… for now… it's good. It's those times that I squeeze him a little harder, and inhale his scent a little deeper, and shut my eyes and listen to the beating of his heart in his chest and tell myself, he's real, he's here, he could be a million other places but he's not, okay? He's here. With you. Relax. Relax and enjoy this now, because Life is short and these years will go fast even if they're happy.

But if he had to go…
…I would have to let him go. Because we're free people, and it would break my heart to force him to stay and watch his lights dim, even more than it would break my heart to watch him live happy & bright without me.
But I hope he stays. And I hope he keeps me with him.
I feel weak without him. I feel much stronger when he's around. And more relaxed. I know it's sort of an illusion… I was strong on my own, before him. I can take care of myself. But… it's more fun, with someone else.
So yes, I hope he stays and keeps holding my hand till we're bent and old and wrinkly and drinking espresso in a cafe in some banana republic where we've retired to live on a hut near the beach with our synths and our sketchbooks…. or you know. Whatever odd place life takes us to by then. We might be old and wrinkly and holding hands in a hospital. If we're lucky enough to make it to being elderly, and still have medical care at that age. As much as I hate hospitals I do recognize medical care as a luxury to some socioeconomic classes.
But you know what I mean.

I didn't come here to write about this. I came here to write about naughty thoughts, dammit.
But I just spooled off that path somewhere… Thoughts of him always do this to me, they start off one place and then I feel like I'm on a sailboat on an ocean with tides taking me to unexpected islands...
silentwaters: (silent)
...he shags me into next Tuesday and we're high on happy intimacy hormones for like, the 3rd day in a row now. After not having any sex for like 3 weeks (but in that time we both got sick for two weeks and I had a shitty period, and I was getting pretty horngry, if that's even a thing. And if "hangry" can be A Thing, I'm sure "horngry" can also be A Thing), we finally shagged each other rotten. And then we haven't done it again since then because, well, we, uh, wore ourselves OUT, son. Not that we haven't been thinking about it... I can tell because he's been kissing me a lot and giving me the mischievous side-eye, haha. But... ow.

TMI, yo. )

I regret nothing. :)
#firstworldproblems #vigorousfuckingishealthy #honeybadgerdontcare

Also he's been super fun and flirty these last two days since then. Heavy mood: lifted.
It's such a relief for both of us I think. We've been having problems sleeping/waking up at any consistent time of day or night, and staying asleep once we do fall asleep, but it's been slightly better, since the Day Of Sex. I think we might be syncing back up.


Dec. 10th, 2014 06:09 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
Okay okay okay, Executive decision:
The sex is worth it.

Like, I've never had a casual one night stand or fuckbuddy relationship but… if I was going to… I could do a lot worse than to let him shag me silly.

Maybe he doesn't truly love me, but this is still ridiculously fun.
I'm only gonna be this young so long.
And when I'm an old lady, at least I'll have some crazy memories to smile about.


Dec. 9th, 2014 10:49 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
I'm intentionally not leaving myself much time to write this before my next appointment. Because I am already at the point where I'm refusing to dwell.

The other day, after we'd had great loving morning sex, I cooked up some delicious sausage and white bean soup which was simmering on the stove and I went upstairs to shower and get dressed. I got out of the shower and was getting ready to go down and eat with Mr. Man, but halfway down the stairs I heard Mr. Man on the phone with someone (later I found out, his dad) and some phrases drifted up the stairs, something that sounded like my name, maybe. I stopped dead still for a moment, not wanting to intrude, and turned to go back up the stairs to give him time to finish his convo before we sat down to eat. I heard him speaking low, and my ears didn't catch anything but some disturbing snippets:
"...I like her, but…"
"..I mean, she's intelligent, but…"
"…mess…[something about a lot to clean up or deal with, couldn't really hear/can't quite remember, seemed to do with the house being a mess or requiring a lot of effort to deal with]…"
"…I think her ex-husband…"

basically the tone was really uncertain. I think I heard my name. It sounded like he was expressing to his dad that he felt only lukewarm/uncertain about this relationship.
It pierced my heart like an arrow. I felt cold and nauseous. I gave him a few more minutes before I tried to come back downstairs and eat with him, and tried not to let it bum me out, but… I've been failing pretty hard the last couple of days. I found my body rejected the idea of food really, and I couldn't even finish one bowl of the soup.

Weirdly, when I asked him what he and his dad talked about, he mentioned they talked about his cousin, and how it's been a struggle for her here in this country, and that her ex-husband may have held her back from achieving her goals, etc.
So maybe that's what they were talking about that I overheard.
But it's not like I could ask him directly. I didn't want to start a fight or seem petty, I mean, I'm not… I'm not the kind of high maintenance whiny bitch who just gets upset over any little thing, and truth be told, I trust Mr. Man a lot and respect his privacy. I don't go snooping through his phone, I leave him alone to deal with his ex-wife on his own terms, I wouldn't normally eavesdrop on a private conversation, I just happened to be coming down the stairs right at that moment and something- self-preservation, I guess- made me stop and try to hear a little- once I thought I heard my name- because he's so… non-verbal to me, about how he feels, that it would mean the world to me to hear it from his mouth. To hear "I love you" more often, (assuming he does?) or even, "okay you're a fun fuckbuddy and thanks for the roof and the food but but I really can't stand your baggage and your fucked up life" I mean-- whatever it is, I feel like… just tell me the truth, you know? even if it's painful.

But this is fucking painful now in and of itself, and I can't ask him about it because I don't want him to think I'm a snoop, or a jail warden or any shit like that. He can live his life, I mean I love him whether he loves me or not and I decided to love him freely for however long he stays in my life, and right now I'm just trying to remind myself of that and be in that space of centered love radiating outward, instead of needy black hole sucking inward.
I don't have to be weak. I've survived enough.
I don't need a man to complete me. I've learned to be enough for myself on my own.
I will never be as destroyed over a man again as my ex-husband left me. I survived that, and now I know I can survive anything.
I can love whomever I want-- perhaps I should phrase that like- Love will infuse me with care whenever IT wants-- and the hard truth is, whether they love me back or not is (for better or worse) really of way less consequence than popular culture would have you think.

But… I really feel so close to him sometimes. I really… love him. I'm sorry, I'm… sorry. I know I shouldn't have fallen, I know I should have tried harder to keep my walls up and protect myself after everything I've been through. And I know… I love hard and deep and not everyone can meet me there, and maybe I've asked too much of him, in terms of faith and devotion…
And to think that he doesn't love me back, really… or that he only just "likes me, but…"

I'm kind of like… is this relationship even worth my time?
If you're not passionately about ME, if you don't NEED me in your life, then… why are you still here?

But here's the stranger part:
I came downstairs, my good sex mood had evaporated, my hunger for the delicious food I'd cooked had turned to nausea, I was shaking and trying not to show it, trying not to cry, trying not to let it get to me, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt, like maybe he had to act cool the way you know how you have to do when your parents are needling you "WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO MARRY THIS GIRL" and you have to be like, "Look Dad, I like this chick but I don't know" just trying to play it off nonchalant to get them off your back or something; trying to remind myself it could have been a million things and I just didn't hear it all, I have no context, I should calm down, I should leave him room to explain that he'd been talking about anyone else (maybe it was in fact only his cousin, maybe? maybe?)
So you know, basically I'm internally freaking out for a moment, while trying not to externally show I'm freaking out, trying to keep my heart from breaking, wondering if we should have a relationship-ending talk right now, or drag this out in lukewarm perpetuity, desperately needing (but not really able to believe) some sign of reassurance from him, but completely unable to ask for it…

And he's like, in this cute, physically affectionate, playful mood. He likes the soup. He eats what I leave left over. He makes comments about how much he enjoyed the sex this morning. In the last couple of days since this happened, he's been more affectionate and physically snuggly than normal. I went to sleep that night for the first time in a long time facing away from him. He rolled over to spoon me anyway.
I woke up in the morning in a weird angle to him- and put my hand on his chest and he immediately, in this sleep, clasped my hand to his heart with both of his hands and snuggled his forehead over onto mine.
I mean how freaking adorable is that?
Is that the body language of a man who only just kinda 'likes' you?
Then there's his mother-henning. I mean, he doesn't hardly let me go anywhere without him. We're at the office together late, I'm working my ass off, grinding away on a client project, and he's been getting progressively sicker for like the last 4 hours. Finally he tells me he feels like shit and he needs to go home. I want to go home with him, but I'm really really not done with this deadline project, so I hug him and kindly try to send him home to rest (we took separate cars, so he could have left).
But that's not our way. Our way is that we usually drive home together, so one or the other of us doesn't get sucked into the Internets Forever, and we make sure each other get some food in us and enough sleep and we can fall asleep snuggled up together and that kind of thing. It's kind of his deal. He escorts me on the road, usually driving behind me the whole way home, to make sure I'm okay or don't get in a wreck or have a flat tire or… something. I don't know.
He's not overbearing about it, he's just… like, sweet, and concerned.
So he refused to leave the office without me, and stayed at the office with me until I was ready to leave. Just...hanging out on the couch with his laptop, kinda half cat-napping. I tried to shoo him away home to rest but he wasn't having it. I would have had to be mean and fight with him to get him to go, which totally wasn't worth it, because he's a grown-ass man and can make his own choices and I'm not upset he stayed, I just… didn't want to be cruel holding him there if he was feeling sick and wanted to let him know it was fine for him to go without me. But no. He sat on the couch and chilled like he suddenly had all the time in the world, and he wasn't even mad, bro. He just patiently hung out.

Okay I don't know if you guys remember our biggest fight so far, but it was about his refusal to hang out and be patient while I was in a critical bind and needed his help desperately.
The man is not patient.
One does not simply, "wait around", it's a thing I've come to learn and accept about him and his ways. It sucks sometimes for me that he's impatient but you know, I do understand that his time needs to be respected to, and I'm slow and complicated sometimes. So. This behavior that he has about me sometimes, waiting for me, shepherding me around… it's uncharacteristic for him and it speaks to me of caring and concern. And okay, maybe of comfort-habit and duty, too, but I hope that's not… all it is. Because I don't need someone to do me any fucking favors. It's not that I'm ungrateful- I'm sure some people, on getting to know me, must wonder how the fuck I've conducted my life and personal affairs for so many years without falling prey to some downward spiral of self-destruction.
I have one answer: God.
That, and I know I'm the kind of messy creative who has everything out in the open where I can see it, but even though it looks like piles of bullshit to you, I know exactly where everything is and there really is a method to my madness, as hard as it is for some to believe. So maybe Mr. Man thinks I need shepherding because I'm a little… uhm… disorganized and "too nice" and that sort of thing. Maybe he gets this idea that I need him to chaperone me and it's a simply a paradigm of duty, for him. Maybe it's not indicative of "Love", per se.

But there's the fact that I observe he values himself and his own time highly, and the fact that he spends much of it with me, voluntarily, and usually treats me with kindness, that leads me to believe he wouldn't saddle himself with this role purely out of duty. He's got to be getting some pleasure out of it, right? (sometimes I exasperate him, I can tell, but it's not on purpose! I appreciate him, truly. I'm just not perfect, obviously, but what can I do about that but strive to improve? Surely he must know that to err is human, to forgive, divine?)

Lord knows I've made my way in this world for years without a man looking after me, but if he's gonna be chivalrous, I'm… gonna accept it with grace. It's kinda old fashioned and sweet, you know?
He opens doors for me, buildings and cars both.
He holds my hand everywhere we go (still). I mean, like, everywhere, even when we're walking into a store or restaurant from the parking lot. If I don't reach out for his hand first, he sticks it out towards me and makes the little searching "where's your hand" motion until I give it. It's never with a mean or dominant attitude, but like, a searching, questing-for-connection kind of attitude. An unspoken bid for closeness or reassurance.
(I have to take a moment to explain that this could not possibly be because I'm any kind of trophy-girlfriend material. I'm a 200+ lb., pudgy, goth-ish freak, I'm definitely no great beauty and I'm not the kind of girl a guy would put on his arm to show off to the world, okay? I have my moments of 'not-completely-hideous' and I even sometimes achieve "good hair day" but I'm no buxom, slim-waisted mail-order bride here, I am just an average pudgy pasty american with a ghetto booty and I don't even always wear makeup. So it can't possibly be that he's like… just "proud to be seen with me" or whatever. I can only read it as, he's just truly a gentleman and treats his lady with kind manners. And also there must be something internal about me that attracts him, because he's so handsome he would never really need to settle for someone with my looks. Just trying to be realistic here.)

So you see, I don't want you to get the wrong idea when I say he never says "I Love You", and I say, "but I'm still so in love with him" - it's not that I'm an idiot, I'm not blind, but I get… all these conflicting signals from him in a way. Everything about the way he treats me is usually kind and nice, affectionate and caring.
He just won't fucking verbalize or define it. He just won't SAY "I Love You" or "I need you". He's like some wild animal, and he treats me like I'm the "mate" his instincts lead him toward. I'm just supposed to accept that.
I mean I do, I feel the same, that he's my mate, even though we aren't married, I accept him as my other half and I don't like to do things without consulting him anymore, and I show him as much consideration as I can, and I need him there by my side when I fall asleep, and I accept his chivalric overtures, and I fall asleep with my head on his chest and I love the way he puts his arm around me so I feel safe.
And yes, the feminist in me sometimes rebels against this show of patriarchal behaviours, but you know, sometimes- someone is just trying to be nice. And I'm going to tell that shrill harpy in the back of my mind to STFU, and remind her that it's supposed to be FUN to be with somebody, to be in a romance. And you know what else? I've been through some heavy shit, and I'm fucking weary of this world. And the fact that anyone else- male or female, is willing to take on the burden of being partners with me, and is willing to treat me kind, and protectively stand guard sometimes so I can wear my armor a little less heavy… so I can fucking, I dunno, RELAX once in a while instead of being tense as a coiled spring at the breaking point of torsion once in a goddamn while… it's… it's nice, okay? It's nice. A girl could maybe get used to not being treated like shit.
Even though a girl knows better and that she should only ever rely on herself and trust no one.
Sometimes I feel like *I'm* the wild animal, and he's the visitor to my forest, coaxing me down from the trees with a handful of berries or something. Often I just wonder if it's time to run away now, but he's so still and gentle… I want to believe he won't really hurt me.

But he just…

I don't know what the hell is going on here.
You can see why the snippets of convo that drifted to my ears were so fundamentally disturbing, speaking of a deep disconnect in my perception of his behavior, and the intentions of his human mind.
It's one thing to be physically attracted and have good sex and be… in puppy love or whatever, but we're not treating each other that way, we're treating each other with the regard and care and trust of solid mates.
Yet, he might only sort of be on the fence about it, with me.
So like, that's not grounds for building a future, you know? I need… something better than, "I like you, but…" Something more passionate, preferably. Or at least something more substantial, some indication of commitment and desire to be an equal partner with me. I don't want someone floating along on my life, who isn't all-in. Can't build a loving home with someone who only "kinda" cares. Can't raise healthy happy kids on that. Can't toil and sweat and labor for that. Can't feel like hustling for that.
Like, I need to know. Not just because I'm a worry-wart but because… if you're considering a long term future with someone, it's kind of important. Right?

Wellll, not… necessarily. Arranged marriages have worked for thousands of years, and those are domestic partnerships predicated on a bunch of things that are not "wild passionate star-crossed love".
You're thrown together. You're expected to fuck and procreate. You're expected by your community to build a household together, to treat each other kindly and raise children and make joint decisions… And you know what, many couples have, and do, just like that.

I'm not saying I'm willing to give up all my individual freedom and yoke myself to some guy as if it was an arranged marriage, because we're bot EXTREMELY FREE TO CHOOSE.

But if I had to choose right now… I'd still choose him.
I just want to know if he would choose me.
Oddly… I feel like he would, even with what I heard.
Sometimes I get a weird feeling that the real problem is, he does love me but he won't admit it to *himself*. Like, sometimes I get the sense he loves me way different and maybe…deeper? than some of his previous women, and he doesn't know how to deal with that, and because he's just come through his first year post-bad-divorce (that whole bad-timing thing, of when our relationship began, maybe rearing it's ugly head here), he's hiding from acknowledging that because commitment is scary, and he either is so unfamiliar with experiencing real love that he doesn't even recognize what this jumble of feelings is for me, or… he's scared it really IS love and oh shit, that means he would have to give up some autonomy to admit he needs me, and his fierce pride (and sense of self-preservation from being fucked over by his last few terrible, bitchy women) won't let him bow his head to that.
(I mean seriously though, even at Thankgiving his mom made comments to me that she is so happy he's finally with a girl who treats him well and really loves him and is kind to him. Everything I hear about all his exes is bad. He really picked some lemons. Maybe it's something masochistic about him, and he doesn't know what to do about the fact that I'm not really a bitch to him. Maybe that's why this isn't equating to = "Love" in his mind yet.)

The thing is, I love him so much that… I'm willing to take the time to be patient enough with him to let him realize his love for me himself, on his own terms, and to shelter him with kindness and respect until he stops waiting for the other shoe to drop, with me, and can maybe…let himself breathe out. Because he's been abused at the hands of women before (literally one of his exes used to beat him, and others played some real fucked-up mind games). And so, I realize he's got his shoulders hunched up and his armor on, just like me. And it's asking a LOT, to ask a hard-assed survivor to drop their shields and let you in. I know. Because good god, I know what that's like, to be innocent and then get fucked-over till you're half dead, then to painfully build and wear this thick self-made armor, to tell yourself, "NEVER AGAIN. NEVER. A-FUCKING. GAIN." And to live in your armor day in, day out, until your own spiritual stink is so miserable you can't even stand yourself- but you can't relax and trust anyone either, because god forbid you show any vulnerability to anyone, lest they turn and use it against you for blackmail later.
But Never. Again.

So… I empathize.

I have lived that way for years. He's the first person who's successfully coaxed me to relax. It's astounding, to me.
If I could only gift him the same safe space… maybe he will finally drop his shoulders and let the words "I love you" slip out of his mouth, accidentally when he's off his guard some time.

Maybe at the end of our long, interesting life together, he will look back and realize… that his life was better with me in it. Maybe.

I can dream, anyway.

I'm an idiot, right?
I'm being an idiot.

still alive

Dec. 5th, 2014 08:34 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
I realized after that last entry it might have sounded like I was off to kill myself. Nope. Sorry, betches, I'm still here.

It has been raining and foggy here for 3 days and nights, very uncharacteristically, but much to all our precipitation-starved delight.
The air has been soothingly full of petrichor and by the time we arrived home from the office around 2:30 am (we keep late hours), it smelled amazing outside, but inside my head I was burning and writhing with a depth of anxiety and depression like I haven't felt in almost 2 years, and trying to hold it all in. I kept burping, and though I hadn't eaten or drank anything but water in over 6 hours, it was all sour and burning bile coming up out of my throat, and a layer of nausea beneath that wouldn't go away. My heart was pounding and it was hard to breathe.
I could only think, as I stepped out of the car, that I really should go for a walk to clear my head. That I desperately just wanted to walk into the night forever somehow, smelling only rain and fog, and maybe my sadness would naturally dissipate into the quiet black air.

But my sweet boyfriend, sensing that everything was not alright, would not let me go for a walk alone. So he insisted he would come with me, and put his shoes back on, even though he had to get to sleep soon because he had to get up early to go visit his kids today. I felt really bad because I didn't want to inconvenience him like that, and I certainly didn't need him to prove himself or whatever, this was just poison in my own head that I needed to get out and I knew I would never sleep if I just laid down in the state I was in.
I had to go walk, with him or without him, and kind of would have preferred to be alone. But he wouldn't hear of it, and said he liked the rain smell too and had sort of thought of going for a walk too so… off we went.

I kind of lost my shit at first… not at him, mind you, but just that it had already all be building up inside and as soon as we stepped outside, I just couldn't hold it in anymore. I was not even to the end of our street before the memory of me standing there trembling, knees locked to keep from falling down, in that very spot, watching my ex-husband ride away into the night on his motorcycle, red tail lights disappearing with tracers because the whole of reality seemed to be slowly melting at that very moment, me hollow and sick with disbelief, the whole scene- just imprinted itself before my eyes onto reality now, in stark detail. I remembered everything- How my brain felt curiously numb but there was a ringing in my ears. How I wandered the streets for an hour, chain smoking an entire pack of cigarettes, just so I wouldn't have to go back inside that house, which was suddenly nothing at all resembling "home". How I couldn't feel anything enough to cry but my cheeks kept getting my cigarettes wet for some reason. How I didn't understand anything anymore and felt like a newborn calf because this whole world was completely alien to me all of a sudden and I had trouble standing and I literally felt like I couldn't be sure of which way was up; gravity didn't seem to be functioning like I expected and in retrospect I don't know how I didn't pass out, but I felt like I was in the state of "almost just before you pass out", but for hours. I felt like I had been hit by a train and had amnesia, I didn't know who I was without him, what I should do now, what my own name was, or if I should kill myself because there was nothing left to live for. I strangely didn't even feel alive anyway, because over half of me just went missing. Would I ever see him again? Would he die without me knowing? Everything seemed small and far away and underwater and in slow motion, like a dream. It was like lighting a cigarette and puffing on it was the only task I could remember how to do. I didn't know who to call or what to do. I guess textbooks would call this state of being "shock", but I don't know if people in shock ever know they're in shock, or remember it afterwards, but… I remember. It is like remembering being high, in that it was a completely altered state.
Sort of akin to the state I found myself in when I asked the doctor, "Is It Cancer?" and he bluntly (thank god) just replied, "Yes." But this time was worse. Reality was irreparably broken and warped somehow. Nothing made sense at all.

Fast forward 2 years- I'm much healthier now, and I have a lot of nice thick scars where there used to be just bleeding gashes in my psyche. I clearly don't live my life in a state of shock on a daily basis. But last night- it all hit me again in a big wave, welling up from within me from… I don't know where. Most of the time I assume so much time has passed that on the average I'm "OK" now. And I'm certainly a lot "better". But I guess I'll never really *be* "OK". Really. I didn't think I could feel so intensely about all this shit anymore.
But it was like being right back there, front row seat, all up close.

Fuck, man.

Boyfriend patiently let me rail and cry and freak the fuck out. And he let me put my arm in his, to steady me. And we walked for like, a mile, instead of just around the neighborhood. He held my arm linked in his the *entire* time.
And he was very calming and astute in his observations.
Eventually we made it back home and I felt physically exhausted, but not full of bitter bile and nausea anymore, and not crying anymore. My heart rate was only higher because of the aerobic exercise but had come back down from wildly palpitating.

He snuggled me up, and I fell asleep with my head on his chest and his arm around my shoulders.

You know sometimes, I don't know what to make of this relationship, and I question it, and I question his devotion to me or love for me but… I really cannot express how grateful I am that he was there for me last night when I really needed someone. That's huge to me. I know my grief is terrible and ugly to watch, that's why I sequestered myself for months after things fell apart in my life.
But he was stoic and steadfast. I try not to lean hard on anyone about my own shit, but it was very kind of him to not let me completely fall, either.
In the end I was glad he came with me on the walk.

Today I feel… better, but I look like hell. I'm completely exhausted and feeling empty. Thoughts are sluggish. I have no motivation. There are large purple bags under my eyes and I haven't felt "awake" all day, but hollow and drifty and hungover with a vague headache and the urge to cry hovering beneath the surface like some pathetic ghost.

I'm better, but I'm not okay, really. But that's okay.
It's friday night and I have deadlines and work to do but really all I kind of want to do is go back to bed and stay there for another 14 hours.

I know the sun will come out eventually. It can't rain all the time.
silentwaters: (silent)
I just want to scream sometimes.

I just… fuck.

I know he was a nice guy. I know you liked him.


Yes, I know that bitch is certifiably crazy and she got off scott-fucking-free. I am beyond infuriated that she walks the earth, playing THE VICTIM of all fucking clown-ass backwards roles to adopt. I should have requested those text message backup logs from sprint from his cell phone and forwarded them to child protective services before I canceled service with them but I was too numb and confused at the time.

Yes, I know her child was already a fucked-up proto-sociopath before she got here, and now after this is probably going to need years of therapy. I am horrified and deeply sorry for her.

Yes, I KNOW he is sorry. I know he has cried his eyes out over this in prison.
I know it broke his heart to lose me.

But *I* didn't chose this.

And no amount of mansplaining or ostrich-head-in-the-sanding can FIX it.

Only God can redeem him now.
And you know what? After how many years I burned and wasted and waited for him to join my life in situ instead of being long distance, and then how steadfastly I stuck by his side in the worst of times, and then how UNBELIEVABLY RIDICULOUSLY BADLY HE PERSONALLY FUCKED ME OVER?

I'm alright with letting God handle him from now on, because his sin is a burden I refuse to carry, cover for, or excuse.
He did something bad.
He done fucked up.
And every time you say it "wasn't that bad" or "surely he didn't mean it"



Fuck this planet.
I'm OUT.


Oct. 21st, 2014 06:22 am
silentwaters: (silent)
I am *SO* sick of spoon-feeding my client.

Oct. 11th: he gets a letter of interest from a networking contact, introducing him to two Big Fish that could potentially land him his first pro gig

Oct. 13th: writes me to tell me he's looking for "direction" on how to proceed with answering them. I volley back with an EXTENSIVE email template, complete with additional links to writing tips

Oct. 17th: he sends me the first paragraph of the email to ask what I think
Oct.17th: I tell him it's a GREAT start, and remind him I'll be out of town this weekend (for the umpteenth time) for a family funeral in a rural area.
Oct. 17th: he messages me back to make sure I'll be around and available this weekend anyway "as a sounding board", right?
Oct.17th: I message him back that NO, I Will in fact, NOT be available, as in, what part of rural (shitty cell service) and funeral (aka, serious family time, inappropriate self-focus is rude) did you not understand? Told him we could meet Monday.
Oct.17th: replies with a curt "oh, that's cool, give my regards to [your fam]."

Oct. 20th: I go over to his house where he shows me the rough draft he wrote but STILL hasn't sent, and wants my editing skills on it before he sends it out. Proceeds to be a total Eeyore in a pity-party about how running a business is just all "too much" and "too hard" and he's "tired of networking" (after 1 whole month of concerted effort to go out and shake hands and kiss babies since breaking the company onto the scene. Like, a WHOLE MONTH, YOU GUIYSSZ. I mean… Fuck, Bizniss, Why U No Sales?) and he's "just not a social creature" and this is all "too hard" (like omg you mean I have to start a Twitter account… AND actually use it?) and he really just "needs a partner" (side-eyeing me) "who can do all this stuff" (read: want someone to handle every aspect of my business I find unlikeable and stressful while I just get to sit down to the cherry tasks every day and get paid) and "sometimes I just want to be told what to do" (read: I just thought I could get paid for the fun part, the rest of being a small business owner is like, totally hard, yo!") and that he gets "really demotivated" when he feels like he's putting in "all this effort" and not getting any "reward feedback".

Wait-wait- hang on, BRB, I'm running to Office Depot to get you a sheet of gold star stickers.
Oh- oh- okay I'm back now.
*sticks gold star sticker to the rim of the computer screen*
Reward Feedback achieved. You may proceed with the pity party, sir.

Meanwhile he's telling me he just can't afford me anymore (wasn't paying me more than minWage in the first place, after taxes) and is cutting me down to half-pay next month, which is going to finally necessitate me getting a day job, any day job, McDonald's or Starbucks will do. Meanwhile he's telling me he might have to pick up some "shitty" DJ jobs for only like $200-$400 a gig or something to get by. *eyeroll*
And it isn't a question of the quality of my work. He loves my work. He just really didn't think this through when starting a company, and literally is running out of money before he's made his first sale. Today he FINALLY asked if I could look into venture capital for him.
After I've been in his ear about it since he hired me 4 months ago.
But he still wishes I was available full time.
It's so nice to want things, isn't it?

I seriously can't even, with his attitude today. He's losing me, and he knows it, and he's miserable and lashing out with passive aggression or something, I guess. I mean I've never seen him this morose or mopey. And like I don't know what to say when he says shit like, "just because *I'M* burned out and taking a break doesn't mean I want you to follow suit, I mean I still want YOU to work and do stuff…"
What? Do you even hear yourself, bro?

Oh sweetheart. I'm so sorry you're stressed.
Here, take my company to run too while you're at it.
Oh, what's that? You don't think you can handle starting up two companies at once?
THEN WHAT IN THE BLUE HELL ARE YOU GIVING ME SIDE-EYE FOR, YOU SPOILED GIT? Either go find your balls and run your gorram company, or find the money to keep me so I can run your company. And I want 50% of it. I'll be your partner and I'll even tell you what to do.
hahahaha, I wish. But I have no savings. I can't get by on "sweat equity". I'm 2 months behind on rent with a fucking SAINTLY landlord.

Newsflash: if you think cutting my pay is somehow "motivational" you're kidding yourself. You hired me as a WEB DESIGNER, not a one person sales team. You just lucked out that I'm ivy-league educated, industry-experienced, and eccentric enough to take your floundering ass on.

I'm certainly not motivated to stay on and sell-sell-sell for you by fucking myself out of house and home taking 50% of what I was *just barely* scraping by on before.

Oh, and by the way? YOU asked ME to be an independent contractor. Not the other way around. That means I'm not your goddamn employee. You are my client, and I'm about to fire you. But it's okay, because you don't really need me. *You're* the face of your company. There are certain things Mommy can't do for you, if you want any credibility at all in this industry. It's time to fly, little birdie.

Oct. 21st: 5 in the fucking morning: I sent my re-written draft to him that I stayed up all night fixing like a good little copyeditor and all but threatened him at the end that he better grow a pair and take it from here.


Hey look, an entire post, not even about sex at all!
You two lonely readers (I flatter myself) and that one forlorn cricket in the corner are all shocked, I know.
I don't normally put this shite here, I just … fuck. man.
Had to let it out somewhere private.
silentwaters: (silent)
lol I don't mean that in a bad way. I definitely consented! But last night when we went to bed, he laid down on his stomach and I was on my side with my arm under my pillow, and his arm was reached up and out, so our fingers interlaced and he held my hand while we fell asleep, even though we didn't touch anywhere else (again, too hot). But the position was kinda awkward for me- tha angle at which our hands met kinda torqued my shoulder a little and made it hard for me to balance without bringing my other arm down in front of my chest- and our bodies were close enough that my stabilizing arm would touch him, and normally, I would just lay that arm across his shoulders and kind of sleep half-on him, with my head on one shoulder- anyway, this is hard to describe, but suffice to say it's just a sleeping-on-our-stomachs-but-still-snuggled-up kinda pose that we do sometimes. Only this time it was awkward because I didn't want to make him uncomfortably hot and sometimes he sleeps on his stomach when he just needs to claim his own physical space- it's a more "self-ish" sleeping pose as opposed to lying on his back with my head on his chest and his arms around me, and that's okay - I've actually been a stomach sleeper all my life, and this sleeping-with-my-head-on-someone's-chest thing is totally new. It's "normal" for us, but not "normal" for "me" and probably not for him, either. We usually end up shifting in our sleep to something slightly more individually comfortable, I just think we... like to fall asleep that way, usually.
But when he gets in bed and flops on his stomach, I usually read it as a subconscious request for "let's not entwine our bodies up right now/I need some space to myself", and I give it unless he seems to want additional contact (he usually still does somewhat- like he'll reach out to do the hand-interlaced-fingers thing, or our toes will touch and grip onto each other like monkeys, or the shoulder-arm-sleeping thing we do sometimes as described above)

Anyway, what I'm getting at is, the way we fell asleep was kinda half "I love you" half "please don't touch me" and I felt awkward as we fell asleep, thinking of all the stuff I've been mulling over in my last two entries, whether he still loves me and wants me, worrying about if maybe I am just too overbearing or needy, or if I'm not doing a good job managing my insecurities, and then trying to let myself be reassured because he was gripping my fingers so tight in his, it almost hurt and I kinda wanted to let go, but I didn't, because it was the only physical contact we had at the moment. And I was afraid if I broke contact, I wouldn't get it back, as pathetic as that sounds to write out here. But I was trying very hard to keep the rest of my body parts to my self, to keep from making him hot and sweaty, & I thought, he must love me. He must. He wouldn't be holding my hand to fall asleep at all if he didn't. That's a small thing, but it's also a big thing. People don't just sleep holding hands if they aren't connected. And I didn't really initiate it, he did.
So I fell asleep in this restless state of "it's over, the thrill is gone, he doesn't love you, and why the hell should he in the first place?" and "shut up inner demons, he's holding my hand, and that's still something. He might not be romantically verbose but he clearly doesn't hate me, either."

Jesus Christ that took a ridiculous amount of time to describe.

The thing is, I eventually fell into restless sleep, tossing and turning. After what I guess must have been an hour or two of this, I half-woke to feeling him snuggling up to me more. I became aware that he was holding me close somehow, that he was spooning me, even. I gave a sleepy sigh of pleasure and the subconscious worry in my mind started to ease up as I felt him holding me. It was warm, but not as uncomfortable as I thought. Eventually he shifted onto his back and kind of pulled on me so I would move over and lay my head on his chest. We twined our legs together and I curled my fingers into his chest "fur". He wrapped his arm around me and just began... softly caressing me, as if not to wake me. Just very gentle and light. Sometimes he would wrap his arm around my shoulder to squeeze me to his chest in a sleepy "hug". It was so nice, I thought I was dreaming. I started to become more aware when I felt his heart beating faster in his chest. I could feel him gently massaging the small of my back, waking up my chakra there, and caressing up my curves, smoothing over my shoulders, stroking my hair softly, and tracing behind my ear. Everything was so warm and tender. We haven't... he hasn't done that in a long time. It was so nice to wake up to. He just snuggled with me this way for a long time. In my mind it seemed like an hour. I woke up more fully, but didn't move, for fear that he would stop. When I did become fully conscious of being held so closely in his arms, and his welcoming body language, his smoothing his hands over me softly, his careful tenderness... my heart just about burst in my chest. This moment, this kind of deep sense of belonging... this... this...love... I feel it so intensely, I feel like it's the only moment I spend the rest of my waking life working to have, it's the only... it's... okay, maybe not the only, but surely the best thing on this planet, this space of love and intimate connection, that makes the rest of it all worth it. It's the moment I spend the rest of my life trying to get back to, it's the experience of feeling... home. Tears leaked out of my eyes as my heart flooded with relief. He DOES love me, I wanted to shout. HE LOVES ME. I AM LOVED. But I was silent. Too happy to speak.
I moved my hand under my cheek to catch the tears so his chest wouldn't get wet and he wouldn't get the wrong idea thinking he was being so nice to me and I woke up crying. LOL I am a pathetic creature, I know. I know but what... what else could I do?

He shifted again, rolling me on to my back so that he could cradle my head in one arm, and with his other arm, caress my breasts, and reach other parts of me. I opened to him with happy sigh and a smile, and he knew I was no longer asleep...He brought his face close to mine and I nuzzled my cheek against his soft beard and inhaled his comforting scent...

We made sweet love until 7:30 am, then passed out peacefully in each other's arms.

And that, ladies & gentlemen, is how 'surprise sex' is supposed to go down.

Feeling pretty optimistic today, not gonna lie.


Oct. 13th, 2014 12:54 am
silentwaters: (silent)
So I've been feeling lethargic lately and I woke up this morning with extreme tiredness even after sleeping a full night, and a scratchy throat (not a sore throat, but like, that pre-sore throat scratchiness that tells you you're fighting something off?). All day I've just felt run down. We a had a Place To Be tonight and when we were getting dressed upstairs, I mentioned the throat/not feeling well thing to Mr. Man, who said, "really? because you've been feeling really hot for days."
(don't flatter yourself kid, he means "hot" as in "a fever", not as in sex-appeal.)

"Really?" I asked.
"Yeah," he said, "like when you put your hand on me last night all night it was like a... like a stove."
Then he went on, "...it's the same thing I've been feeling run-down with for a couple of weeks, like I'm just fighting something off... that's why I haven't been very interested in sex lately."

Well, I don't know if that's a smoothly placed excuse he's telling me (or himself), or if it's the truth, but it's seeming more like a viable explanation. I have been feeling run down for days, no matter how much sleep I get.
Come to think of it, he hasn't felt well since babysitting his kids around the start of the school year when they brought home all the "suddenly KIDS who've traveled EVERYWHERE on vacation all summer now cooped up together in classrooms all day!"-bugs. He got a tail-end-of-summer-cold from that, then recovered only slowly, and not really fully because all the stress and drama with our families started happening... Which was, hmm, when was that? around the beginning or middle of September?

Maybe there is something off with both of us. Maybe we should both go see a doctor.
Well, he can. I am still uninsured (but job hunting). Also, I can't find my thermometer to check my temperature. I thought I sterilized it and put it back in the first aid kit after he got sick last time but now I can't find it. Boo.
We haven't had any more sex since that last 3 days ago but again he's just not in the mood and I'm kinda not in the mood either. The drive is still on and running in the background but if I were an Operating System I'd say I have too many applications running concurrently and eating up all my RAM. It's weird to say but that's kind of how I feel.
I still love him though, and he's been kind of... an odd mix of standoffish and then snuggly/cute. Like, we haven't been sleeping with my head on his chest like normal (I know that might be weird to some, and we rarely wake up like that but we regularly really do fall asleep like that...) not so much, these last few days because... our body heat's just been too hot/uncomfortable. In fact I remember groggily wanting to curl up with him last night in my sleep a few times but only managing to touch his toes with mine or a shoulder to his shoulder or something; I was too uncomfortably hot for full-contact.
So we woke up this morning and we were each scooched away from each other on our own sides of the bed. But in my half-awake state I stretched out my arm and placed my hand on his chest, at least, because I missed him. And he immediately put his hand over mine and held it there, accepting the gesture with sleepy affection. And during the day, he'll poke me, or hold my hand, or let me lean my head on his shoulder. But then we're like, okay, gotta go away now, focused on work and not on each other.
Last night he took me out to see a live band we both like. I felt like we dressed up for each other, went out, enjoyed the music, and each other's company, but it was hard to make conversation. But I made an effort to engage him in conversation that was intellectual and relevant to the musical act playing, and listened to him, trying not to talk too much, trying to just let the conversation be interesting and mentally engaging. And we did talk a bit. And then we were silent a lot, enjoying the music. And then in the car on the way home he actually opened up a little and started being goofy and funny and making me laugh so...

This is a weird place to be in. A really weird place. It's like nothing's wrong, but something's wrong anyway.
Maybe I'm imagining it. Maybe we're hitting that natural place where your brain runs out of "falling in love" chemical rush (don't they say that takes about a year, year and a half?) and have to build the rest of your relationship on something hopefully deeper and more lasting, like friendship, trust, affection, etc? I mean we have a lot of that, so I think when it does happen we'll be good (don't mean to sound like a pessimist here using phrases like "I think", but it's hard not to brace for a sudden but inevitable betrayal. But I do also fight with myself daily about that insecurity being leftover "baggage" from the ex's betrayal vs. a real and valid concern, and I try hard not to let it show too much or be an elephant in the room, I try to manage my damage, I swear).

I don't know though. I'm still totally down for wild starry passionate love with him. I still feel a thrill running through me just looking at him sometimes. Or when he touches me. Or... like when he holds my hand, I still feel so reassured, like I "belong"...
I just... don't feel physically up to sexual intimacy at the moment.
Or really mentally up to it either.
But my heart is still there! It's still burning for him alone.
And I don't...know about him, I never really ever know how he feels, because, can you ever really know another person? I don't think you can. (Wow, has my ass been kicked to the gutter for stupid assumptions in the past, yo.) But... he's not acting like he wants to leave me. He's not being cold, just... not highly emotive (but TBH he never really is "magically romantic" or "flowery" in the first place, never has been, it's like it's weird or painful somehow for him to say "I Love You" so who knows? Maybe he has even more baggage than me. He's been in 7 relationships to my 3, and I can't imagine how gunshy I'd be after getting my heart broken 7 times...), and he's just... not feeling sexually motivated. And he's saying it's because he's physically just been not feeling well. And now I'm not either so I guess I should take him at his word and we need to get healthier somehow.
Ugh. So confused. This is so weird.


Oct. 10th, 2014 04:12 pm
silentwaters: (silent)
don't have long to write here, just want to put it down for catharsis' sake. Had sex last night for the first time in ...ages. Well okay, I think, the last entry I wrote where we had sex was what, Sept. 17th, and now it's Oct. 10th? Almost a month, then?
We weren't even mad, bro. It just... didn't happen.
Well, I guess after I wrote last time, it was like, we had so much sex that week that we were kind of sore and worn out. Then there was a week and a half (ugh) of being on the rag (eff you, Mother nature). So I guess that's about 2 weeks gone. And then we have been on this really weird sleeping schedule lately where we go to sleep around 6-7 in the morning and get up around 2 pm (we're both freelancers, so...). This is mainly due to him, not me, as naturally I'd go to sleep around 2-4 am, and get up around 9:30 to noon, left to my own biorythmic patterns. His biorhythms seem to run an hour or two later than mine, and I'm flexible, so we shift toward his schedule, only the thing that happens is we stay up until we're too fucking exhausted to keep our eyes open and I barely have the energy to shower before hitting the sheets, much less, have sex. Then when we wake up, we're groggy, and I wake up feeling guilty about wasting half the day and feeling like I need to immediately jump out of bed, no snuggling or sex, to get a move on with my day and be productive during any normal business hours at all.
The result is being always tired, always slightly grumpy, hygiene slipping, and not feeling sexy at all.

But on top of that, both of us have been under extreme stress for various reasons- family and financial related - and the stress had really worn us down. Mr. Man has told me for 3 weeks he just doesn't feel horny.

It's weird, but it's also not ...weird, I guess... He hasn't ever said it in a way that felt accusatory toward me, or like in a "We need to talk" kind of way, he just... seems like he hasn't been feeling it. I wonder if he's stressed about his own job situation or feeling like he's less virile because he isn't providing. I wonder if he's just suddenly not attracted to me anymore or if he is not in love with me (always this fear in the back of my mind I guess, since he's so non-verbal about his feelings for me) and just doesn't know how to break it to me. Or if he's genuinely so stressed out and sleep deprived that his adrenal system is just not putting out the pheromones it once did. He has also gained a little weight- not anywhere near enough weight to change my level of attraction to him - he's manly and hot as ever even with a little tummy on him- but I think when you're skinny or fit to begin with (unlike myself- who has had time to adjust to being chubby all the time and carrying that extra weight around) it's like... it can be a bigger contributor to lethargy and/or negative self-image, maybe? When he looks in the mirror is he no longer thinking 'damn, I'd fuck me'? Because I still would (**** him), in a heartbeat. Almost every day, except days when I need to physically recover because... ow.
I did make him a large batch of chocolate chip cookies, which he loved but then later admitted he immediately saw he gained weight. Like when you weigh 230 lbs and you gain or lose 5 lbs it barely shows, but when you're 160 lbs. and you gain or lose 5 lbs., it's a larger percentage of your total body weight and there can be a more immediately visible/tangible difference. Maybe he started to feel "fat" and then suddenly realized his girlfriend is really fat and was like, 'damn what am I doing with this ugly cow?' Which is sort of the realization I am waiting for him to come to all along. We'll put aside the fact that I've fed and housed him for a year, or that I give great head or that I try to consider his needs above my own most of the time, or that I'm sorta cute and friendly and have a good sense of humor and don't freak out about his love of cheap mexican food or the resulting cheap mexican food farts. Like, it's cool, I know I'm unlovely, I already know. I just kinda... you know, fell in love with him and that's all on me... well, he's the beauty, I'm the beast, as great as I think he is and as much as he makes me swoon, I'm realistic enough to know my deep attraction to him is not guaranteed to be reciprocated. I always appreciate when he makes me feel like he *is* attracted to me but it's really hard to believe it, even still. All the demons in my mind. All of them. Just laugh and remind me of the most fucked up shit, and I start bracing myself, scolding myself that I know better than to get too comfortable in this relationship, that he's never made me any promises, that he has this thing about getting impatient/ducking out/being cold when the going gets hard and I already know that so it's not smart to rely on him, that it could end anytime, that I told myself in the beginning I was going to love him with no mandatory sense of ownership, that if he ever walks out on me I'm gonna have to just let myself be sad and then get on with the business of living my life because my heart's actually too scarred-over from the last guy to really shatter again, it's just going to go splat on the sidewalk and it's gonna hurt like hell, and then if the sun rises the next morning, I'mma pick it up, brush off the gravel and bird poop, and stuff it back in my chest and walk on.
Okay okay whatever, hindbrain.
I know I've got my flaws but he seems to like me enough to have stuck around for a year, and in that year we've had sex about... probably 1-5 times a week, so when it's dried up for almost a month, it's hard not to take it personal, but I think (to my own self) that my own insecurities and fears are blowing this way out of proportion, and that it's fine and normal to have "uninterested" periods (as long as the wheel keeps turning, you know.
Like last night we finally had sex again and it was fine, it was great, except for the part where I had to choke back tears of relief into the pillow a couple of times when he couldn't see my face because I really missed that sense of closeness with him, even as much as I know I don't deserve intimacy with anyone, for some reason he brought it crashing into my life and has kept bringing it the past year so I (stupid me) got kinda... used to it, or whatever. Not that I don't remember the days when I hadn't had sex with my ex in 4 years and the thought of even masturbation had been reduced to an awkward chore- I mean, don't talk to me about a 1-month "dry spell", bitch, I know what a "dry spell" really is. But the weak part of me, like... the 'civilian' part of me that wants to simply enjoy loving and being loved, as opposed to the 'warrior' part of me that took over to survive cancer and courtrooms and desperate feelings of isolation & depression in my former household, you know- okay, nevermind, fuck it, guess I ain't got shit to complain about, in that light. *grabs weak civilian-self by the neck and wrings it till the Demons Of Insecurity pass out from lack of oxygen in the brain*

Plus, we got back in the groove and it was a little brief and a little awkward and I could tell it was more for the physical release than the soul of intimacy but sometimes you just need to shag, yo.
So whatever. TBH I don't like sex on my period and right after it was done my pheromones were doing a weird thing too and *I* didn't feel horny at all either. And then the last two weeks have been so full of stress and weird sleep schedules and stuff and we just... mutually Did Not Want. (I started "wanting" a little sooner than he did I guess but I'm the pathetically in-love one, so I'm not surprised by my weakness)
Like 2 weeks of Not Wanting It... That's okay, that's... that should be okay, right? Shit, sometimes I wish I'd had more sexual partners in my life just so I would have a better barometer for these kind of things. I bet Masters & Johnson has some study about the fluctuations of a normal sexually intimate relationship that includes lulls like these. It doesn't have to mean... anything in particular, other than that our adrenals were off.
Come to think of it, his body chemistry right now is different, such that his normal body odor (usually very pleasant and calming to me) is tinged with some other note it doesn't normally have, and to me it smells like onions. Now, we both love onions and eat a lot of onions and so I just have chalked it up to that, but when he moved in, he didn't smell... quite like that. I am wondering if I should talk to him about it, or if he should go... have a bloodwork panel done, or something. But I'm scared to even suggest it, like... what if it's serious? What if...
No. Nope.
Nuh-uh. I'm not even going to say that. I'm not even going to allow that thought. One partner with cancer in a lifetime's enough, thankyouverymuch. Done. DONE now. with that. for at least... you know, all of middle age. Until we're elderly and facing the end of our lives anyway. We will have a good life in the middle-part, dammit!

But what if he is just over me?
I still love him so much.
Ahh, fuck.
ahahahahahaha. haa. *sobs*
It's gonna be okay. Shit. I'mma go pull myself together right quick.

*pummels twitchy inner demons*

...Okay. Sleep dep, stress body chemistry and slipping fitness habits. That is what we're going to chalk this up to. Also, shitty sleep schedule- too much aimless late-night facebooking, not enough prioritizing making love. That's a concrete thing we can work on. It's not a deep-rooted emotional issue, it's just laziness and lack of self-discipline.
He is still here. He seemed to be having fun last night. We fell asleep happy. We woke up happy. It is all good.

I wish I was... more calm about these things. I don't know.
Sometimes I really want to give Mr. Man the link to this blog so he can amuse himself with getting to know me better. Other times I think, wtf silentwaters, that is the WORST idea in the fucking world. You are a manic lovesick fool and he would freak out and leave your crazy ass in a heartbeat.

Uhh...I'm... I'm more normal and calm than this on the outside in real life, I swear. I try not to be exhausting to be around. I just have this internal dialog at all times and can never really shut it off, so it helps to be able to put it somewhere, just get it out of my head and just put down somewhere. It's almost like writing about it lets me just put it all on pause and come back to emotionally dealing with it later, when I can handle it.

Fuck, I am horny right now.
Body. Seriously. Get a grip.
silentwaters: (silent)
It is a beautiful autumn morning. We've left the window open; the curtains have been breathing cool air into the room all night. Finally cool enough to want a blanket, but only halfway up... I wake before him, and turn to see his handsome sleeping face in the dim light. I move in closer, laying my head and arm on his bare chest for a moment. His skin is cool and smooth on the surface, but a comforting warm-blooded heat radiates up from underneath, and I feel his beating heart very near my cheek. In his sleep, he instinctively wraps his arms around me. His right arm wraps around my shoulders and forms a supportive crook for my head and neck to rest so it doesn't slip backwards, his warm hand on my shoulders keeping me close, while his left hand finds my caressing right hand, and his fingers curl around mine in a gentle grip.
He makes a series of small noises in his sleep- they are like short purrs, or tiny quiet growls, followed by a gentle sigh. I can't describe this very well because I don't know how he actually makes these sounds, but they are so... organic and natural to him, and I know him well enough by now to know they are "pleasure" sounds- I've heard him make similar noises when awake, usually when we're making love- but they are subtle and barely audible right now because he's more than half asleep. He never opens his eyes or wakes up, just... makes these little subconscious "welcoming" noises and holds me close.

I'm ...I'm dying of happiness, and I can only smile sleepily into his chest. And weirdly- my uterus 'wakes up'. I feel a visceral energy shift- as if all of my chakras at once are open and receptive.

You know that feeling when you've had blocked sinuses for a while, and suddenly they clear out and you can breathe? I felt... like that. Only... in my abdominal region. It was like my vagina and uterus and fallopian tubes... were... "breathing". I felt them, which is unusual- you know how you're normally not aware of your internal organs? But sometimes- usually during your period- you might get cramps and then, oh buddy, you are aware of parts you wish you weren't.
This was kind of like that awareness except in the direction of pleasure, not pain. Those parts weren't cramping. They were just feeling warm and open, almost "glowing". There were no muscle contractions happening, and not even any particularly "sexual" thoughts happening- I didn't want to jump his bones right then. I'm actually on my period right now, and do not desire sex. But the thought of having sex with him just then was exceedingly pleasant and I felt my body with full awareness... I felt as if my womb craved his seed, but also as if we were in no rush. That sounds so odd, I know. But I just... felt... whole. And "on", like a switch gets turned on, although again- I don't mean that in a sexual context. I mean I felt like a completed circuit with current running through, not dampened or blocked at any point, just... electricity freely circulating.

In fact, after a while of laying there quietly like this, I felt so energized, I had to actually get up and leave the safe haven of his arms. He's still in there sleeping and I'm in here writing this because... I have excess energy right now. I don't know what this feeling is, but I kind of love it and had to put it down in words somehow.

Who the fuck IS this man?
Sometimes I feel like he really is an alien or an angel or... something. I don't know. I don't know. I have never felt this way with a man before. Not even with my ex, and if I'm being flat honest, my ex and I had some pretty good sex and pretty intimate soul-connection type stuff early in our relationship, before he turned into a criminal jerk. I trusted him (unfortunately. Meh, it is what it is), and I felt very connected to him and willing to allow him into my intimate thoughts and parts of my body. But that was... it was always a conscious choice, on my part. As a sentient woman, I "gave" him access to me, and he treated that permission with respect, and I felt "loved"...
But this, with Mr. Man, this is different.
He is like...
it's... it's not a choice, with him. It just *is*. It's not that I don't consent with sentience, because, I do- I consciously want him now, but that conscious thought came later, and although the gate of consent is difference between having a sexual relationship and not having one- my desire for him existed before I thought consciously of consent and would possibly exist whether I wanted it to or not.
I mean- yes, yes, I believe in my autonomy and my rights and I believe that if there ever came a time when I no longer consented to intimacy with him I'd have the right to refuse sex or break up with him or whatever- but it would be hard, because my body... wants him on some nature-like level.
The feelings I get from him are often visceral - not just "emotional", but with some physically-felt component- and proximity based. It must be his pheromones and mine are just a good match, or something. I feel "lit up" when I'm near him, like... One time, I went to a Tesla museum and the people there did this demonstration- they took a fluorescent light tube and waved it like a wand over this dollhouse with little christmas lights wired into each room.
As they waved the light bulb over the dollhouse, the dollhouse lights lit up! It was some proximity-based energy transfer. I feel like that. I feel like Mr. Man does that to me. I'm... more alive, because of him.
err, I hope I'm not subconsciously draining him, I don't want to do that.
But I don't seem to have any control over this. My body just... does what it does. And my adrenal system makes happy happy chemicals.
And my spirit is...uplifted and I want to do better and be a better version of myself because he's around.
I feel like God sent me a... a guardian angel, in Man form, somehow.
I don't know what I did to deserve it, but... I'm full of wonder and gratitude.
silentwaters: (silent)
So, we've been having a lot of lovely good healthy sex lately. I know I know, I say that a lot, but I just... you guys... all 0 of you, plus that cricket in the corner- I'm amazed. It's now been a year that we've been together, and every day I still feel like this is so new. Every day my desire for him is still strong. He's still so handsome it takes my breath away sometimes to look at him, and I have to avert my eyes and pretend I'm totally doing something else before he catches me just staring like a slackjawed yokel stares at a burning man art car full of half-naked people clothed in rainbows and LED lighting.
But the truth is, his handsomeness is not the reason I fell in love with him - in fact when I first met him, I just thought he looked "normal" or "kind of weird" (his piercing eyes are really... striking) but the fact that I thought him to be cold and aloof, plus I thought of us both as married and seriously committed to our spouses, meant I honestly... just didn't see it in him. I never "stared" at him then like I do now. He was just another man, glazed over in my mind in that category of "not mine" and that was that.

But now that he's with me all the time, I get to see his little smiles; I see how his eyes twinkle when he laughs; I have felt the silky softness of his curly chest hair against my cheek when I lay my head on him at night, and I've kissed his full lips, and inhaled his natural scent, and... and everything means so much more to me. I've had time to study the serenity of his brow while he sleeps. And to pick out his profile in a crowd and feel the tiny "ah! there he is" spark of pleasant recognition that I've found "my" partner; I've run my fingers through his hair and over his muscles. And yes, I've felt his manhood; velvety smooth on the outside, but strong and pulsing hot, in the grip of my hand, inside my soft wetness...I've tasted his seed, and it's good. But also... I've fallen asleep exhausted and comforted in his warm arms, and felt him squeeze my hand reassuringly, and laid my head on his chest and shoulders- he always opens his arms to me, and enfolds me or makes space so I can snuggle up with him. The result is that he has become... beautiful, to me. He didn't start off seeming this handsome to me; if our mutual divorces and life paths hadn't crossed on a naturally convergent plane, I might never have known how handsome he was. I would never have been so attracted to him that I'd feel compelled to steal him away from his ex-wife. I didn't. It wasn't like that at all. --Don't get me wrong, he is also an 'objectively' good-looking guy, I think- but when I was with my ex-husband I completely shut out all receptivity to that sort of objective attractiveness in others. I could tell good-looking model-types were 'good-looking' but I felt... nothing. No resulting spark whatsoever. Physical looks never phased me. In fact, I was barely aware of my own extant sex drive at that point in my failing marriage. After 3 years of no sex, I was starting to accept that I'd never have sex again, probably until after my ex husband passed away, and then I figured a few years of mourning would occur, after which I expected to be too old and unattractive to sexually matter to anyone. Having brought myself around to this resignation to starve, I lost interest in sexual activity because it was just too painful to think about. It was not uncommon toward the end for months pass without masturbation or fantasy. When I did fantasize, my mind took me to harder, darker places just to get off, as if to punish myself for having these urges still. I didn't like myself much after I came and didn't want to be trapped in my own head, so I just...more often than not, let sexual thoughts pass through my mind and die away with no action. I was no longer receptive to sexual pheromones and I was barely capable of thinking of myself or anyone else as "physically attractive". So Mr. Man... was kind of lost on me. We were totally capable of being just business associates, nothing more. And we were, for two years.
But in my perception, Mr. Man has "become" much more handsome to me as I fell in love with him. He woke me up and made me question my assumption that I had to be dead inside to deal with the pain of life. He made me question why I didn't deserve pleasure. He showed me, with one simple comment, that I was not alone in my experience of the subtle pleasures of tension and release. It was a revelation, and I fell so hard for him while listening to that music, hearing the natural tension and release in it, and knowing... this musician understood something fundamental about the rhythm of life, and so did Mr. Man, and so did I, all along, so that meant at least two other people on the planet besides me understood this phenomenon, and I was not alone, and I was not crazy. It woke me back up to myself and allowed me to be... more okay with my natural hunger. I didn't feel like such a monster... parts of myself that had made life so difficult and that I had to lock away... started to come to the forefront, and be examined in the light of his gaze, and he accepted everything. Encouraged me, even. It was so redeeming. I felt free for the first time in so long. I felt like my desires were natural and healthy, and even before we became actual lovers, my private sexual fantasies began to revert to playful, happy things again, genuinely hot and satisfying with no emotional hangover, and they were more frequent and enticing- instead these of periodic dark sadistic & punishing power plays that left me questioning my own sanity, that had taken all the fun out of masturbation even when it was pretty much the only avenue of sexual relief open to me.

Now I can hardly imagine life without Mr. Man, and seeing his face is integral to my daily happiness. And that makes me appreciate his physical form to a greater degree; I find reasons to love all of him. He's the shape of my hopes and dreams. He's the size of my lover, my comforter, my friend. He smells like my Mate. His nose is totally cute, especially when he gives me an eskimo kiss. Does that make any sense?

There is a look in his eyes sometimes while he's sliding himself into me. He looks at me like... like... it's hard to describe. A lot of times I close my eyes during sex, because I feel like I make stupid weird faces, and I am so embarrassed, but then I'll open my eyes and I'll catch him watching my face intently- it's almost like a hawk zeroing in on its prey, but at the same time- it's... that he's seeking a sign of my pleasure and desire, so it's dominant and submissive in the same gaze- he has me in his grasp, and is calculating based on his observation of me, what to do next. He wants to know that the way he's moving within me is pushing me toward greater heights of pleasure and connection... almost seems as if his pleasure doesn't matter to him, because he is only watching me/ fully doing this for me...each thrust, the angle of his hips, the pressure of his grip on me, it's all little details he's trying to adjust just for me. It's a strange look, and pierces right into my heart, and takes my breath away and makes my whole sexual nerve chain shiver, because I feel "caught", and his eyes hold all the things that make a human clever and dangerous, a top-of-the-food-chain predator, but at the same time, he's harnessing all of that for me, focusing it all in that moment to just give me pleasure. And I just feel so... amazed & turned on by that.
Why would anybody care that deeply about me?
God, it makes me so happy to give back to him, you know? I'd give him anything he wanted. I'm really lucky that his demands are so mild, lol. He really likes blowjobs. THAT, I can do, hahaha. He seems to be a big fan of my 'work', so I'm not stingy with them at all.

Buuut, sometimes I do hurt myself a little trying to do a good job. He's so thick around the base that in order to take him all the way in, I have to curl my lips in around my teeth to keep from scraping/biting him down there. My jaw just doesn't open wide enough to fit him in without my teeth touching him, and I figure my point is to give him pleasure, not pain, so... So sometimes after a particularly long or vigorous session, I have raw patches on the inside of my lips where my own teeth dug in and scraped my own mouth lining hard/repeatedly. And it hurts a little, but usually takes about a day to heal up.
Well,... uh, two days ago, we were going at it quite vigorously, 69'ing (like ya do) and something about the angle and the enthusiasm meant I... really scraped up my lips good with my own teeth. I mean deep, kind of raw cuts, like as if I'd bit the inside of my lips multiple times. It hurt really bad. There wasn't any blood, but it felt like there should be, as the inside of my mouth was constantly aching, and my lips puffed out like I'd had collagen injections (okay, not a downside, lol). I took vitamins, drank water and tried to rest up and let my body heal. This was about 4 days ago, and my lips are still sore right now if I bite them in the same spot (though they don't constantly ache anymore, they're mostly healed).

I've been mostly silent about this little pain, but our mutual sexual desire's been high this week, so the day after this happened I finally had to speak up and explain this whole phenomenon to him explicitly, because I didn't want to get into lovemaking that very night and not be able to give him any oral pleasure (because I was still in a lot of pain) without him understanding why. And I know he's not cruel. He was kind of surprised, but we laughed about it and I mentioned how frustrating it was because I wanted him... to which he replied, "Well, we'll have to figure something out, I mean the last thing we want is for you to be frustrated..."
Have I mentioned I love this guy?

Well. He ended up seducing me in bed, and focusing just on me during foreplay... he took his time and built up to actually fucking me... teasing me with his cock, getting himself hard along my wet pussy lips without the aid of my mouth at all, which is unusual for us. But we ended up making love for HOURS. I mean hours. I mean like it was almost 9am when we finally fell asleep. He was like the energizer bunny! I came at least 5 times. I did end up putting my mouth on him a couple of times but it was light and teasing; I stayed shallow and mostly used my tongue- he was gentle and didn't try to stretch my jaw or force himself past the point where it was painful.
But everything ELSE in my body was so sore when I fell asleep, back muscles, thighs, hip adductors (oh my god), abs, shoulders, biceps and triceps, good lord, it was a workout!
MMMmm-mm-mmh. That boy can be my personal trainer any day.

We both woke up late in the afternoon, sore and stiff and satisfied. :)

We drank lots of water and took advil and told each other all day, "I have a headache" "My everything hurts" "Let's give ourselves a night off" "okay" and smiled secret smiles and relaxed with each other, but didn't plan to have sex last night.

But uhm, our "night off" failed when, upon climbing into bed after his shower, he couldn't resist snuggling over to me to play with my boobs.
Round 3, Fight!

Good lord, my pussy was so sore, but so wet, but so sore... the underlying muscles all felt bruised and achy and yet, he was still making me cream...and eventually, he pushed me right over the edge into hollering bliss. After which, we fell back onto the bed and I began to chatterbox away like sometimes happens when my brain is overstimulated...

In the course of our conversation (my hand happily stroking his cock, keeping him ready for the next round) I was trying to describe to him how, every orgasm is different with him, and seem to take place in different parts of my body and emotional...psyche. He brought up an idea: We should start a blog.
A blog? I asked. Like, a sex blog?
Yeah. A sex blog, he said sleepily with a smile on his face.

Oh. Oh Mr. Man.
You're so adorable.


silentwaters: (Default)

May 2015

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