best compliment evar
Mar. 7th, 2014 12:17 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
silentwatersI don't think I even finished the last post I was gonna make here, about the amazing sex we recently where he actually came twice (so... that, uhm, apparently DOES happen. Not a myth. I'm going to ridiculously understate my secret gleeful wonderment here by saying, "wow...huh." Because if I tried to describe what was really going through my mind when I thought we'd had our fun and done only to realize... nope... we could...and should... probably keep going... I... think you would think I am crazypants. or crazyNOpants, as the case may be. *ahem*)
Aaaaaanyway.
THEN there was the uuuhhhaahhhmazing sex we had this morning, which has left me glowing all day, and he's been kissing me with this satisfied smile on his face all day in a way that makes my heart completely melt into a little pool of butter... err, look, I am sorry to all 3 of you who might stumble across this blog in perpetuity... I know it sounds like I'm bragging but that's not my intention really, I just want to honestly record the GOOD in my life as much as I recorded the bad... it deserves at least as much acknowledgement, right? And seriously, look at the like 8...almost 9 years of miserable lonely frustration this blog ALSO describes in the course of my life, and you'll understand where I'm coming from... it's not that I'm prideful about this, I'm just ridiculously, pathetically happy and excited to be actually with a good lover for once in my formerly god-forsaken life.
It's improved everything. My faith in myself, my motivation to make art and music, my ability to be patient and compassionate with others, my spiritual peace... it's not like I'm just some horny slut (okay, okay, I have always been a horny slut I guess, just a very tightly guarded completely celibate, desperately chaste horny slut, who could only occasionally find some ghost of satisfaction in the hidden prison of my own mind, but that's beside the point)... but I mean... I'm... a whole... being. And my sexual chakras have been blocked and neglected for... years. And now... they're unblocked. And I am starting to feel whole again, after feeling so broken and useless for so long. Jesus. To feel rain in this desert... to feel like my normal healthy adult sexual appetite doesn't make me an overly demanding monster... to feel wanted, or... desired... to just... to have someone affectionate and open-minded to feel... 'normal' with... fuck, now this is making me cry.
Dammit, none of this is what I was even trying to write about.
I was compelled to write here because... he left me to go to work, but as he was running out the door, he came in the office to tell me, "You know, I was thinking... Every girl I've ever been with, I've eventually compared her to a car, and decided what kind of model she was..."
I smiled and raised my eyebrows. "Ohh?"
"Yeah," he continued, "You know, like "Annie" (2 exes ago) was a Fiero... People mistake it for a Ferrari, but it's not."
We both laughed...
"And "Maryanne" (recent ex-wife) was like an old Chevy..."
I knew I was next. I held my breath, wondering what he must think of me... All the demons in my head started chattering at once. You're shlubby in your tattered jeans and falling apart sneakers. Frazzled. Colorful and weird- like something with mismatched body panels from a junkyard. You have weird ethnic jewelry hanging off you like some taxi cab driver's tassled Saint Christopher air freshener. You're definitely not like other women/cars, and surely you're not powerful or sleek enough to be something svelte like a Lambo, or cute and tiny and fast like an actual street racer, and not fashionable enough to be a hipster hot rod... you're kind of like that late 90's station wagon- a little heavy, still fairly useful, only slightly cooler than an actual minivan, but requiring more upkeep as you age. Not many people would seriously bother owning you unless they saw your peculiar charms... you're a statistical outlier, to say the least...
All these thoughts ran through my head like a flipbook, and my stomach sank and I grimaced and braced myself for his judgement.
"...but I came to the conclusion that you... you're not a car at all. You're more like... a flying carpet."
REALLY!?!?!?
Fuck. Yes. Right answer. Dingdingding, you are CORRECT, sir!
In fact, I am the happiest, most plush flying carpet you have ever seen!
And you can ride my soft welcoming curves to new adventurous horizons anytime. ^_^ <3
He just seriously made me the happiest girl in this whole town tonight. Can I please marry this guy already?
Aaaaaanyway.
THEN there was the uuuhhhaahhhmazing sex we had this morning, which has left me glowing all day, and he's been kissing me with this satisfied smile on his face all day in a way that makes my heart completely melt into a little pool of butter... err, look, I am sorry to all 3 of you who might stumble across this blog in perpetuity... I know it sounds like I'm bragging but that's not my intention really, I just want to honestly record the GOOD in my life as much as I recorded the bad... it deserves at least as much acknowledgement, right? And seriously, look at the like 8...almost 9 years of miserable lonely frustration this blog ALSO describes in the course of my life, and you'll understand where I'm coming from... it's not that I'm prideful about this, I'm just ridiculously, pathetically happy and excited to be actually with a good lover for once in my formerly god-forsaken life.
It's improved everything. My faith in myself, my motivation to make art and music, my ability to be patient and compassionate with others, my spiritual peace... it's not like I'm just some horny slut (okay, okay, I have always been a horny slut I guess, just a very tightly guarded completely celibate, desperately chaste horny slut, who could only occasionally find some ghost of satisfaction in the hidden prison of my own mind, but that's beside the point)... but I mean... I'm... a whole... being. And my sexual chakras have been blocked and neglected for... years. And now... they're unblocked. And I am starting to feel whole again, after feeling so broken and useless for so long. Jesus. To feel rain in this desert... to feel like my normal healthy adult sexual appetite doesn't make me an overly demanding monster... to feel wanted, or... desired... to just... to have someone affectionate and open-minded to feel... 'normal' with... fuck, now this is making me cry.
Dammit, none of this is what I was even trying to write about.
I was compelled to write here because... he left me to go to work, but as he was running out the door, he came in the office to tell me, "You know, I was thinking... Every girl I've ever been with, I've eventually compared her to a car, and decided what kind of model she was..."
I smiled and raised my eyebrows. "Ohh?"
"Yeah," he continued, "You know, like "Annie" (2 exes ago) was a Fiero... People mistake it for a Ferrari, but it's not."
We both laughed...
"And "Maryanne" (recent ex-wife) was like an old Chevy..."
I knew I was next. I held my breath, wondering what he must think of me... All the demons in my head started chattering at once. You're shlubby in your tattered jeans and falling apart sneakers. Frazzled. Colorful and weird- like something with mismatched body panels from a junkyard. You have weird ethnic jewelry hanging off you like some taxi cab driver's tassled Saint Christopher air freshener. You're definitely not like other women/cars, and surely you're not powerful or sleek enough to be something svelte like a Lambo, or cute and tiny and fast like an actual street racer, and not fashionable enough to be a hipster hot rod... you're kind of like that late 90's station wagon- a little heavy, still fairly useful, only slightly cooler than an actual minivan, but requiring more upkeep as you age. Not many people would seriously bother owning you unless they saw your peculiar charms... you're a statistical outlier, to say the least...
All these thoughts ran through my head like a flipbook, and my stomach sank and I grimaced and braced myself for his judgement.
"...but I came to the conclusion that you... you're not a car at all. You're more like... a flying carpet."
REALLY!?!?!?
Fuck. Yes. Right answer. Dingdingding, you are CORRECT, sir!
In fact, I am the happiest, most plush flying carpet you have ever seen!
And you can ride my soft welcoming curves to new adventurous horizons anytime. ^_^ <3
He just seriously made me the happiest girl in this whole town tonight. Can I please marry this guy already?
