That Particular Ex

I had an incredibly rough weekend that ended up being much more emotional than it should’ve been. I seriously have to give the biggest props to The Boyfriend for knowing just exactly how to support me without me once needing to ask for a single thing. He was clingy and cuddly at the perfect moments and gave me my space exactly when I needed it. I am incredibly lucky.

It started at my Mom’s. We had been asked to help my cousin move, so Mom volunteered to take the kids for the night. The Boyfriend had worked the night before and worked his butt off moving everything and we were both pretty exhausted by the time we got back to Mom’s at about nine.

Carter suddenly decided he wanted to come home. Originally, The Boyfriend and I were okay with him coming home. But then Mom wanted him to stay. Of course, by this point she had already started drinking, and instead of being nice to us about him staying, she snapped that we weren’t allowed to take him home and that he was staying with Grandma tonight. Now, I know that she meant it playfully and I know that she wasn’t trying to be rude, but my exhausted brain and The Boyfriend’s exhausted brain took it all as horribly offensive.

Just as we convinced Carter to stay, she threw up her hands and said “Whatever, take him home!” and the whole drama-for-no-reason just hit me. We made Carter stay, because he decided he was good, and when we left, I broke down in tears. It took me a bit to realize why I cried as hard as I did…

We got home and The Boyfriend and I enjoyed some quiet time together. It was honestly a seriously beautiful night and around midnight, we headed up to our room and commenced an intense blowjob session. Sleeping came easy.

Three hours later, our doorbell rung. It was Alfie. He had come into town for a night rather suddenly. He kept saying that it was because he missed the kids and wanted to see the kids. About an hour and a half into his early morning visit, I get a message from an ex-girlfriend of his asking where he is. Turns out, he’s not actually here to see the kids. He’s here to get a booty call from his ex but his phone died and so he didn’t have her address. So instead of going anywhere else or figuring anything else out, he came here.

I’ve been prepared for Alfie to start hooking up with other people for quite a long time now and I’ve been curious about how I might react. With Alfie, I was incredibly jealous and very possessive, although not entirely for the wrong reasons being that he was unfaithful… But I never in a million years thought that he would get back together, in anyway, with this particular ex.

This particular ex is tied pretty closely to our relationship. He broke up with me twice to be able to get into this girls pants. Each time they dated for less than two weeks and each time, he came crawling back to me. Each time, I was stupid enough to take him back. Everytime he came back to me, she’d start calling me constantly, threatening to beat me up, as soon as I wasn’t pregnant…

Alfie and I always had a “thing”. Well really, we had a lot of “things”. But one of our most notable “things” was roses. When we first started dating, he said something along the lines of, “Of all the flowers in the garden, you are the sweetest rose”, and that was it, roses became “our thing”.

After every stay in the hospital, after every fight and after every child, even when he proposed, I got 13 red roses. And every rose I ever received had it’s petals carefully picked after dying and stayed stored in a bag our entire relationship. For one of our anniversaries, he got me a silver rose that was engraved. It was a big deal.

When Alfie and his ex hooked up the second time, he gave her my rose…

This particular ex left a seriously sour taste in my mouth and after Alfie and I broke up the final time, she decided she was over Alfie and tried to become my friend. It’s been a rather unsuccessful journey for us, though I have babysat her kids and we are Facebook friends. We agreed, her and I, that Alfie would be off limits to us both from now on. Alfie agreed that she would be off limits.

I mean, I wrote my best and most saddest song about this particular ex…

So, to not only catch him trying to hook up with her, but also to get the information straight from her before him, seriously broke my heart. I spent an entire day and a half in a deep, dark funk. The amount of disrespect I feel he has for me is just so intense to me.

He tried to compare it to The Boyfriend and I, because The Boyfriend used to be his friend. That’s how I met The Boyfriend, through Alfie. And Alfie had always feared that The Boyfriend and I would get together. It was his worst nightmare coming true. However, before anything even began to happen between The Boyfriend and I, before we even began flirting with each other, I went to Alfie (even though I didn’t have to, he had broken up with me) and asked him how he would feel if The Boyfriend and I hooked up or started dating. I asked him for permission to make any advancements with The Boyfriend and he said yes.

I have outright said no, and I’ve asked so freaking nicely.

He made it sound like he understood and like he wasn’t going to do anything. But then she called… She called my phone… He said that he couldn’t come over just yet because he was planning on taking the kids to breakfast. I went and got the kids early from Grandma’s so that they could spend the day with their Dad. Turns out, it was only breakfast. The moment that was done, he was off to her. Except he couldn’t remember her address, so after leaving for an hour, he was back on my doorstep asking if he could use my phone to message her. Like a sucker, I let him…

We are so civil to each other when we’re around one another. It feels like we’ve both moved on and away from hatred and bitterness. But his actions this weekend feel like utter contempt for me. And I have to wonder what the hell I ever did to him to make him hate me so much? To make him disrespect me so blatantly?

I’m more or less over the whole thing now, assuming it was just a booty call and doesn’t become a relationship – because that, I don’t think I can deal with at all. Mainly because I can’t stand the concept of that particular ex being my baby’s step-mom. I actually already know that will have negative effects on absolutely everyone, and most especially him.


Bound to You

For the past few years on my FetLife profile, it has had some variation of this line included in it:

“I am in a monogamous vanilla relationship with The Boyfriend and you could say that that is the closest I get to bondage.”

I’ve often thought that this amazing song by Christina Aguilera (from Burlesque), sums up the sentiments of this line and therefore our relationship perfectly.

“Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall?… I am bound to you”. Beautiful!

Sweet love, sweet love
Trapped in your love
I’ve opened up, unsure I can trust
My heart and I were buried in dust
Free me, free us
You’re all I need when I’m holding you tight
If you walk away I will suffer tonight

I found a man I can trust
And boy, I believe in us
I am terrified to love for the first time
Can you see that I’m bound in chains?
I’ve finally found my way

I am bound to you
I am bound to you

So much, so young, I’ve faced on my own
Walls I built up became my home
I’m strong and I’m sure there’s a fire in us
Sweet love, so pure
I catch my breath with just one beating heart
And I embrace myself, please don’t tear this apart

I found a man I can trust
And boy, I believe in us
I am terrified to love for the first time
Can’t you see that I’m bound in chains?
I’ve finally found my way

I am bound to you
I am bound to

Suddenly the moment’s here
I embrace my fears
All that I have been carrying all these years
Do I risk it all? Come this far just to fall?

I can trust and boy, I believe in us
I am terrified to love for the first time
Can you see that I’m bound in chains?
And finally found my way

I am bound to you
I am, ooh I am
I’m bound to you

Dream Fighting

Last night, I dreamt that The Boyfriend and I had a massive fight. It was probably the best thing that could’ve happened, because having that fight in real life would’ve sucked. Having it in my dreams meant that I was able to get all the crap off my chest without hurting anyone’s feelings or saying things that I don’t actually mean.

It always happens when I officially reach that point where I’m no longer sexually satiated. Typically, I last about three days after the last orgasm, and then I start to get cranky and irritable. If I was single, I know I can go months and months. But when he sleeps next to me, smelling the way he does and all shirtless and sexy, three days is the longest I seem to be able to get.

And he’s been holding out on me something fierce.

I could understand it more if I, in anyway, required him to do any of the work during one of our sexperiences. I have made it abundantly clear to him that I count his orgasm, and his orgasm alone, as the orgasm that begins the three day limit. I don’t need sexual intercourse to feel sexually satiated. I receive so much pleasure from his pleasure that the experience doesn’t need to culminate with my orgasm – and so, even a blowjob or handjob would do me well!

But, he’s holding out on me something fierce.

I want so much more than he’s giving me sexually and it’s very frustrating. I don’t want to force him to do anything with me or force him to be a certain way with me sexually, but I sincerely wish that he would choose to take strides to be more of the sexual mate that I desire. It would be entirely different if I didn’t clearly define it for him on a regular basis, than I could understand his lack of motivation or his uncertainty. But I tell him what I want and how I want it, it would be nice if he could choose to do some of those things for me.

Especially being how quickly I’ll do them for him. I don’t know how many times I have to reference it, but I don’t enjoy anal sex. However, I don’t reject the possibility of it because I know that he does enjoy it. There’s also the whole thing where he mentions a fantasy and that night gets to live it out, but I mention a fantasy and immediately get turned down. It just feels like I’m giving and giving but getting very little in return and that can be an incredibly irritating experience.

Plus, he’s holding out on me something fierce.

Lately, our actual sexperiences have been lacking for me, but only because of one thing. We start with a lot of foreplay for him. Then, it’s sex. Normally, we orgasm together or he gets me to orgasm first. Albeit, all my orgasms are from my hand and my hand alone. The sex though, is always incredible. Typically, my first orgasm comes on really suddenly and fast and doesn’t last very long. It feels like a pre-cursor to the main event and this almost always results in me craving a second orgasm.

This is where it begins to lack. By this point, he’s typically orgasmed. He lays beside me and places his hand on my leg and starts to fall asleep. He’ll rub his fingers across my skin and then begin to doze off, and then will wake suddenly and rub his fingers and then begin to doze off. I stay in this place where my orgasm is literally just a certain touch away for such a long period of time and instead of focusing on my orgasm, I start to think about him and his lack of interest and his obvious thoughts about my sexuality and how much I bore him and stay in that place for such a long time.

By the time I actually get the second orgasm out, because I have to or I know that I will spend the next however many days until he decides to put out again in aroused agony, it is an orgasm that leaves me feeling dirty and empty and full of shame, anger and disappointment. It’s negativity overshadows the sexperience, no matter how positive, how amazing, how mind-boggling it is.

The talks we have about it in real life, often end up leaving us both just feeling defeated. They are mostly unproductive, we both say a lot of things we don’t mean to say the way we end up saying them – so it results in a lot of hurt feelings over things that probably wouldn’t hurt so much if we just said it differently. Solutions are incredibly difficult to come by, especially being that his sex drive just doesn’t adhere to any of the solutions…

I am glad that the fight over sex happened in my dreams this time. When I woke up this morning, I felt like I had chipped off a chunk of weight from my shoulder. I felt less angry, I felt like I had gotten petty and useless stuff off my chest and I didn’t feel like telling him he sucked, my code phrase to him that I’m officially at my limit.

The first thing I said to him this morning was that I fought with him about our lack of sex last night in my dreams. He bowed his head and apologized, then kissed me on the cheek. Somehow, I felt better.

Sexual Bitching

I’m always completely surprised by how bitchy I can get when I’m not getting the sexual experiences that I want. Suddenly, I become someone I don’t recognize.

It’s not that I’m not getting sex, although I haven’t for the last few days thanks to a period. And all those days that I haven’t been getting sex, without even being 100% aware of it, I’ve been incredibly sexually needy. So much so that The Boyfriend has gotten head every single night for the last four nights and my orgasm hasn’t even been on the radar.

I’ve been having a lot of sex dreams or sudden midday “visualizations”. I wouldn’t say that they’re necessarily fantasies, because sometimes they’re not even of things that I want. Like for example, the other night, I started visualizing giving The Boyfriend head, but then another person appeared behind me. He roughly grabbed my hair and thrust himself hard and deep into my ass, shoving The Boyfriend’s cock deep down my throat, muffling the screams. After he came, The Boyfriend scooped me up and wooed me with plenty of “Good girls”, and slowly, intimately, nicely made love to my ass. And when the visualization was over, all I could think is that that is nothing that I’d ever want, what the hell?!?

However, all these sex dreams, visualizations, thoughts about sex, sex on the brain, it tends to get to me. First of all, my sex life is nowhere near what I thought it would be by now. I figured I’d have a girlfriend and a boyfriend by now, I’d be getting my pussy worhsipped and daily spankings and tied up in rope and punished and rewarded for my sexual behaviour. I figured I’d at least be getting some kinkier sex. But nope, still just the same ole vanilla sex – and I’m not complaining, because I love that sex, but it’s not what I had hoped for…

Second, I’m much more interested in sexuality than any of my partners ever have been. And they hook me by pretending to be interested in the beginning of our relationships and then six years into it become absolutely complacent. To me, sex isn’t just sex. I mean, it can be, but what’s the point of that when you’re intimately and lovingly sharing your sexuality with your monogamous partner. Not everytime needs to be magical but it should be something that you strive for every once and awhile.

And I’m not saying that he doesn’t at all, he just doesn’t often enough or in the right ways. I want someone who is going to explore my body the way I explore theirs. I want someone who is interested in tasting or even seeing my vagina, even half as much as I enjoy tasting and looking at and exploring his penis. I want someone who isn’t going to fall asleep when I’m left to masturbate at the end of an exhausting session. I want someone who will fulfill one of my fantasies, not because it’s his fantasy, but because it’s mine!

See, these times just make me one big ball of bitchy. It even begins to roll over into the non-sexual areas of life. Last night, I told The Boyfriend to force me to play guitar while we were at my Mom’s. Spent hours at Mom’s today and not once was it mentioned. And the thought that runs through my head is along the lines of, “He doesn’t care”, and it’s not true. I know it’s not true, he knows it’s not true, everyone knows it’s not true. But during these times, I can’t help but hate him a little.

I hate him because I want so desperately to not hate him and a little effort on his part would go a long way towards making me not hate him and that makes me hate him even more. And then I rationalize with myself and I say, “But he works hard all day” and “He deals with so much at work” and “The kids have been a handful”, and I hate him even more for being such an amazing guy, so amazing that I can’t just hate him.

It’s very confusing for my brain, not to mention how confusing it is for my body.

A Brain Like Quantum Physics

I had inteneded to write so many different types of posts during my birthday week and I drafted about 5 or 6 starts to posts. I was in a terrible funk during the week of my birthday and then when that funk finally broke, I ended up getting sick. Some type of sinus-like infection – caused the whole right side of my face to swell up.

Needless to say, my computer (along with just about everything else) has been more than neglected…

I’ve also been getting these wicked migraines a lot lately. They come out of nowhere and the only thing that seems to get rid of them at all is sleep. Unfortunately, my sleep has been all over the place. I still seem to be having the worst time falling asleep at night, but the second the daylight hits, no issues with my sleep whatsoever (save for the children…).

Speaking of children, I get to get rid of three out of four of the kids for the weekend. I am so excited! The older three are heading out to their Dad’s and I honestly couldn’t be more relieved. It’s been a better week than most with the kids, but I could definitely use a nice relaxing break from them. Especially being that they all seem to be going through this big bad attitude thing right now that is so difficult to deal with.

The Boyfriend works the entire time the older ones will be gone and that’s kind of unfortunate – it’s never as much fun as it is when he has a day or two off. He’s been working a lot lately too, staying much later than ever before. We knew it was bound to happen with his promotion and with it gearing up for Christmas, it’s a non-stop constant thing for him. He takes so much pride in it all too, that most of the time that he’s home is spent thinking about work.

Things between him and I seem to be all over the place lately. And not on his part, but on mine.

One moment, I feel utterly and passionately, deeply in love with him. Like he’s the King of the World and could do no wrong. Then the next moment, I fell utterly and passionately disappointed in him, like he’s a crappy boyfriend and that we need to immediately end this relationship. I hate those moments – especially being that I can’t even figure out what the heck is causing them, I can’t figure out why I suddenly switch to such vile hatred, I can’t figure any of it out.

And I just totally wrote a lie… I’ve done nothing but try to figure it out and I have a buttload of answers. I have a buttload of petty, stupid, irrational answers. And then I spend all my time arguing with myself because are they really petty, stupid and irrational? I guess that’s just a matter of perspective. And I’m a person who can relatively easily imagine things from someone else’s perspective, which makes the internal argument I’ve been having with myself since my last rut that much more complex and difficult.

It’s not even because of anything that he’s doing. Any way that he’s being. It’s because of all the things he’s not doing and all the ways he’s not being and all the things he’s not saying…

It’s all been made worse by the addition of another year to my age. It’s so hard to explain any of all of this to a person who is not inside of my brain. Explaining my brain is like trying to explain quantum physics… It’s all so complicated, because there’s a lot of stuff bumbling around up there.

One day I’ll figure out how to explain it. Today is not that day. So I figure I’ll leave it at this…

Already Almost 2015…

It’s been quite a bit since I last wrote and I left off in a rather gloomy place. Mostly, I’ve barely been getting on my computer. We’ve been quite busy over the last little bit and The Boyfriend has had a number of days home, thanks to a nasty round of colds going through the house right now, so the computer has been neglected heavily.

So, when I last wrote, I was having quite the overall issue with a terrible rut I was stuck in. At this point, I’m pretty happy to report that it’s mostly dug out of. I get a whiff of it every once and awhile, but it’s been about three days now of relative fresh air. A lot of the ranting I was doing was related to The Boyfriend and our relationship, and although we haven’t exactly dealt with anything, we have had some pretty serious conversations over the last little bit. I wrote two posts that will probably never see the light of day about those conversations, but it released a good portion of that unbearable weight I was carrying around.

We “celebrated” Carter’s birthday during this weekend that just passed, even through everyone’s grumbly coughs and runny noses. First was his actual birthday, where we gave him some Minecraft books – which he has been absolutely obsessed with. So much so that for everyday since his birthday, he’s been waking up before 6 AM to be able to play… The next day, we went to Mom’s for a big dinner and that was also a really great day – as it usually is.

Starting next week, I have quite a few plans as I am desperate to start doing stuff involving The Erotic Writers Group again. I have left it alone for quite awhile, having lost my ability to do anything during that rut, and now I’m constantly wanting to get back into it. I have a couple ideas to keep things afloat should I end up back in that rut again, so I need to hash those out and my hope is that by January 2015 we will back up and into the full swing of things – plus some additional goodies.

I have a lot of hopes and goals coming into the 2015 year and I do this almost every year, where I come up with all these things that I’m going to do better this year than last. Generally, I fail miserably and for a lot of reasons. I tend to take on too much all at once across a whole bunch of different areas of interest and I try to do it all. These last couple of years have also been rough on us in terms of our luck and hopefully we’ve done all the stuff we need to do to make that different this year.

My big one for this year though is all centered around The Erotic Writers Group. I really want to get that where I want it to be and I really want to get some extra help with it, so that it’s a more manageable project. Now I just have to figure out how I’m going to bring all these ideas to life and make the whole thing a reality. This is what I plan I do over the next couple of weeks…

Well, it’s a quick update, I know. I hope to have more to talk about in the coming days. In the meantime, thanks for your patience and until the next time 😉

Thank You for Being You

I’ve gone a little Sims mad…

For almost an entire week now, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with this game. Starting a legacy-esque challenge, was definitely not a good idea for my addiction level. However, it’s doing a great job of keeping my spirits up, which lately is not being an easy thing to do.

I’ve written a huge ton of posts over the last few days. I think the last time I went through my draft folder (this morning), I was up to 13 drafts – and that’s only in about three days. I keep writing and then completely losing my train of thought or getting distracted by something and then I can’t seem to pick it up where I left off. And when I return a couple days later, I no longer feel the same way I did when I originally wrote the piece, so I can’t even pick up then…

It’s odd that I’m struggling so hard with this depressed feeling. I’m not really depressed, it’s just I don’t know what other word could possibly fit instead. It’s kind of my way of using an umbrella term to describe a whole bunch of emotions that are all out of whack. I just feel a general numbness, a lack of emotion, if you will. And I seem to only be able to recognize the negative emotions, like anger or sadness or stress, and don’t even notice if there are any positive ones going on.

I’m lucky that I’m surrounded by the people I’m surrounded by, who understand that this is just sometimes the way things are. That sometimes Mommy needs a little extra space, or sometimes your girlfriend isn’t going to laugh at your lame jokes, or sometimes I’m going to tear up for no reason. And I’m glad that during those times, while I struggle to figure out how to deal, they struggle with me and eventually we figure out how to get to the point where I’m feeling the support they’re giving me.

We’ve been on a mission to get our house spotless over the last few days. We’ve got an inspection coming up, so it has to be cleaner than our normal clean. I always stress out so much more than I need to over these inspections, although for the most part, I’m dealing with that pretty well. The Boyfriend has been beyond wonderful in terms of helping with the cleaning.

One thing that’s pissing me off, but also makes me love him more, is how he gives me praise for things I haven’t done. Like yes, I’ve been cleaning, but really… It’s not nearly as much as I should be, especially over the last week, since I’ve been sleeping so much. Today, I puttered and got most of the kitchen done and the floor swept. When he got home and started cleaning himself, and the kids were going off about me not helping, The Boyfriend kept saying I had already done so much today, that I shouldn’t have to do anything more. It’s sweet, but it’s also a little bit annoying, because I feel like he’s delusional when he does that. And he’ll do it over everything that I feel like I’m failing at.

But he also knows that I’m in this rut right now, that I’m not sure what’s causing it, that it’s only been a few weeks since we had our really serious discussion and all that equals a boyfriend who is over-compensating to make sure I know he’s there and loves me. And for that, I am eternally grateful!

#WhyWeNeedFeminism – Rants A-Brewing!

Remember when I was talking about that hashtag… Well, it’s rearing it’s ugly head in my life profoundly and I feel like I’m embarking on this very sudden abrupt journey.

When I first ran across the #WhyWeNeedFeminism hashtag, it was really difficult for me to debate anything with anyone about it, because I just didn’t feel very connected to it. For me, in my life, I’ve never really seen that we need feminism, because everything I needed as a woman was already fought for. Or at least it seemed that way because I was raised by a strong, independent, no-man-needing woman who raised us to believe that I was just as good as all the boys, even my brother. So, I couldn’t relate.

However, in the past few days and an instance a few months back, have completely changed my thinking. The instance a few months back didn’t really click it in for me, it was just kind of floating in my brain waiting for this exact moment to resurface.

Kaeidyn, my 9-year-old, is quite the little diva. She’s always been that way. And I hate to say it, but she is quite vain. She’s always asking for compliments, she’ll walk up to total strangers and say “Don’t I look cute in this outfit?”, and the clothes she wears… First, she has a lot of family members who don’t know how to say no to her. Hell, I’m not even that good at it. So she’s been able to figure out ways to get very short skirts and very short shorts.

This one day, she comes down from her room wearing the shortest skirt ever. Now another thing about Kaeidyn, is that she is incredibly gorgeous. And I’m not just saying this as her Mom. Somehow, she has got a really great body – legs that go on for miles, a butt that looks like it belongs to a much older girl and her skin carries an amazing tone to it that just makes her glow. She knows this entirely. So, she comes down in this short skirt and I immediately tell her she cannot wear it out of the house.

I’m a pretty nice Mom that way, much the same way my Mom was. If it’s too short to wear out of the house, I’m not saying you have to get rid of it, but you have to stay inside when you wear it.

Of course, as usual, we get into a huge arguement about why I’m so mean to her, blah blah blah. At some point, The Boyfriend joins in, as he usually does and he says to her, “You don’t want some boy to rape you because you wore that out”. Worst parenting moment ever on my part, because right in front of her, I was like, “Eh, eh, eh, eh. Now now! We don’t say things like that” and launch into a mini-lecture about victim blaming.

This was just the first hint.

Then, we go down to my Mom’s and that day, Kaeidyn got to walk with Kenzie to the store by herself for the first time. She was very excited and couldn’t wait to tell. As a 9 almost 10-year-old, and the fact that she’s been working hard to gain some trust so that she can go further away from the house, I decided in a rushed moment that it was okay by me. And she did great, they both did.

My Mom has a tendency to forget what it was like when we were kids and the stuff that we got away with when we did. I was in Grade 2 when I was walking to the store by myself and by the time I was Kaeidyn’s age, I would walk to go get her smokes from the local convenience store. She was quick to point out that I was always with my sister, who is 17 months older than me. Kaeidyn went with her brother, so in my books, a-okay!

Almost immediately, my Mom starts going off about how “she’s a girl” and that “it’s much more dangerous for girls” and that she hopes I’ll wait until Kaeidyn is in her teens before I start letting her go anywhere without her brothers… And then begins in on the rape that is just out there around every corner waiting for every single girl that’s ever going to walk out the front door!

Is anyone else feeling queasy yet, or is just me?…

I’m not saying that girls shouldn’t be, to some degree, concerned about getting raped and that it should kind of be a guiding voice in our heads. Don’t go walk through that forest in the middle of the night, don’t go out drinking without a buddy, don’t go jogging down your favorite trail on a Friday night when all the lamps just happen to blow out. You know, make some smart choices and such…

However, I do not want a single day of my daughter’s life to somehow be less-than because she was afraid of getting raped. I don’t want her to not be able to accomplish her dreams because there was an iota of a chance that she could get raped. I don’t want to spend my own life, as a girl, in fear of every man that walks by me, because he might rape me…

Rape, and the possibility of it happening in my life, should not change how I live my life. And it should not change the way I raise my daughter as opposed to my sons, it should not change the way we, as girls are treated. It should not change the lessons we are all taught about life. We raise little boys to be brave, because no one is going to rape them. We raise little girls to be weak, because everyone is going to rape them.

And I am here, as a concerned mother, to say I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!!

Then, the absolute kicker in the whole pants of the #WhyWeNeedFeminism debate. If you’ve read the entries from the last two days, you probably know exactly where I’m going.

For me to be considered sexually attractive by my partner of six years, I have to dress up as something that I am simply not, I have to “be more sexual” when I’m already more sexual than any other person I know who doesn’t only live on the internet, I have a huge laundry list of ways that I have to be, endlessly, to be sexually attractive. Then, that becomes repititous and whose fault is that? You guessed it, mine!

For him to be considered sexually attractive, he has to wear whatever the hell he found on the floor, shower once a week, shave once a month and never even have to worry about how he looks or acts or thinks…

He can walk around with his shirt off and no one says a thing. I can’t even breastfeed in public without dirty looks and people telling me I should go to the bathroom to do that. Do you eat where you shit?!? Then, why should my baby! He can walk through the mall with his hands down his pants, scratching his balls for the whole world to see, and I can’t even pick a wedgie.

Like seriously, what are we teaching our kids? What are we letting ourselves get away with? How blind can we be…?

Don’t even get me started on how I’m viewing things now that I’ve been slapped in the face in terms of society and it’s relation to my womanhood – because that’s a whole can of worms that I’m not even prepared to open. But in just my world, my little miniscule world of about 10 people, this is #WhyWeNeedFeminism and why we will always need it…

Awkward Conversations

Yesterday was just plain awkward…

After he called yesterday, and I sounded more pissy than ever, he came home as if he was walking on the thinnest of ice. I swear to you that he literally tip-toed into the house, set down my coffee without so much as a word and then went and sat as far away from he as he could.

I ignored him for a good long while. Then, I had casual friendly conversation with him about my day and the cute things the kids had done. I joked and laughed and he awkwardly sat in silence, obviously unsure of what he was supposed to do.

Then, sometime after dinner, I went upstairs to my room. I never do this. Never. The kids of course flocked upstairs, and I ended up dozing off with one of the kids sleeping next to me. A few hours pass and I wake up from a pain in my knee and go downstairs. He’s fallen asleep on the couch. He never does this. Never.

I go back to bed, deciding that we’ll just spend another day in awkward hell, who cares. About an hour passes and he comes upstairs to grab his cellphone charger – good thing too, otherwise who knows how he would’ve gotten up this morning. Even though he knows I’m awake, he pretends like I’m sleeping, still on the tips of toes.

I awkwardly blurt out, “So, is this how it’s going to be then?”, and he stops dead in his tracks. He stops and stares like a deer caught in the headlights and I say that I can’t stand this silence for one second longer. I should not be feeling like I’m being punished simply for expressing myself.

I know he’s feeling terrible and guilty and just as awkward, if not more, than I am. I’m trying my best to be sensitive to that, while also fuming because this should not be a hard conversation for us to have. We’ve had it so many times before. It’s what happens when one person is kinky and the other isn’t.

We end up coming back downstairs and the conversation really gets going. First, I bring up the fact that I know he’s been sneaking around to watch porn. At first, he lies and says that he hasn’t watched porn since the last time we watched it together. This raises my anger level to an uncontrollable level and I shout at him, sarcasm seeping through every syllable, “Are you kidding me? No, someone just happened to use the internet browser on your cellphone two days ago to watch YOUR porn!”. Every inch of my body was shaking. I yelled more about how I knew absolutely that he was without a doubt lying to me.

He eventually confessed. Then he lied again about where he was watching it and how, but I decided to let that go to talk about the heart of the issue. I began, “I just don’t understand how here you have the most sexually open girlfriend in the entire world, and all I’m asking is for a little bit of honesty about your porn habits, and you can’t even try. I tell you about every single time I watch porn, every time I masturbate, every fantasy I have. You shut me out of that stuff. And it makes it feel like we’re disconnected on the deepest level.”

He defensively responded with two points, not related to the porn but related to my sexual frustration, and I sat quietly and let him have his moment, even though I was raging. I listened to him tell me, “I just haven’t been interested”, more than once last night. And I was delighted when my silence didn’t deter him from continuing to open up.

We talked about so many things in that three hour awkward conversation on the couch. How I find the type of porn that he likes appauling, how he’s just so exhausted sometimes that sex does just seem like another job he has to get through, how I look at sex as something so much more than sex and that’s why I get so upset about it, how he doesn’t feel what I’m feeling.

I held back tears, so many times, as I tried to explain to him how he can make me feel so insecure. How one night of a lack of sexual desire on his part can make me feel undesirable in every aspect of our life together. And I turned my face away and held my hand over my quivering lips, as he praddled off his ideas of how we could fix this problem – including me buying lingerie, me being more forceful, me kicking him off of games earlier, me wearing a bra (so he has something to take off, not that he takes off any of the clothes I currently wear…), me doing this and me doing that and me working my ass off to make him attracted to me.

He might as well have said, “Lose about 30 pounds, get some bigger breasts and a tighter ass, and be as overtly sexual as you can – and then maybe you’ll turn me on.”

“I just haven’t been able to get interested”, he said and I nodded in understanding, “That’s why I’ve been watching the porn…” and he said, “I mean, it’s probably going to sound mean…” and I stopped him. I said, “I don’t want to hear this next thing. I’m almost 100% sure that I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t want to hear it. Once I hear it, it becomes real and that is not a reality I can face right now.”. I knew he was going to suddenly confess that the lie he had told earlier about where he was consuming his porn was exactly that and instead that he watches it right before we have sex, to get himself going. That is not a truth I can face.

Because what do I do with that information?!? I mean, even now, it’s the one part of the conversation – next to all the work he thinks I should do to even just attempt to get a chubbie out of him – that just keeps playing over and over again in my mind. He watches porn immediately before having sex, sneaking around to do it because I cannot like teen porn, and then comes to me with that. All I keep thinking is “How dare he!”.

He had gotten himself quite worked up talking about teenage breasts and the idea of me shoving him up against the wall and just having my way with him. He asked if we could carry on the conversation up in bed and I agreed, my mind just spinning. We laid down and I said quietly, “I just don’t think it’s fair that you walk into the room, and without even doing anything or saying anything, I feel immediately turned on by you. And I have to remind myself that right now I’m mad at you. But I have to go buy lingerie and bras and basically rape you for you to feel at all turned on by me.”

His body slumped and I could feel him fighting the urge to roll over, guilt consuming him. If he could’ve, he probably would’ve crawled into a dark hole. I rolled to face him and said, “Since you’re the one that gets out of the house every once and awhile and has all the money, why don’t you buy me lingerie or bring me home sex toys? If you want those things, you should get them, because I don’t need them and they’re not for me…”.

Who knows what is going to come out of all of this. Today, I’m going to bet that he’s going to act like we didn’t just spend the last day in hell. He’ll come home today and all will go back to normal for him until the next time this flares up again on my end. He’ll walk in and sit next to me, he’ll figure we sorted it all out and all of it is over now. And I’m not ready for it to be over…

If anything, last nights conversation has added more fuel to the fire and I have even more grievances to air, because what I thought was the problem was only a small fraction of the problem. So now it’s all about figuring out what I’m going to do with all this new information and how I’m going to handle the coming days… I still just keep thinking that I am just so done…

I’m… just… done…

Yesterday was mostly not a good day and I am just still absolutely reeling from it. I tried to sleep most of the day away today so that I wouldn’t have to think about it all, though only made it to noon and very restlessly at that.

It started with all the walking. For some reason, the knee pain that hasn’t been bothering me in almost four years, is back with a vegenance. Walking from our house to my Mom’s, to Wal-Mart, back down to Mom’s and back home was just too much for it. I spent most of the night complaining.

Then, I chose last night to finally be beyond frustrated at my sexual situation. He stayed up late playing games, I stayed up late working on computer stuff. Then, I asked if he wanted to take a shower with me and he was game, but kept procrastinating. Generally shower together = sex. I had hinted at him, both subtely and overtly, many times during the day that I had every intention of getting laid last night.

I decide I’m ready to get my loving on, and head upstairs and say forget the shower. He’s barely awake enough for sex, let alone shower and sex. So I crawl into bed and stick out my ass as far as I can, hoping he’ll snuggle up against it like he normally does and we’ll both turn each other with the grinding and warmth and skin-to-skin contact. Except, he puts his hand on my leg and immediately, I can tell he’s going to fall asleep. No movement in the hands, no trying to reach up to touch my boobs, just flat flaccid fingers.

So I kick my feet, “Baaabbbee!!” and he knows exactly what I’m going to say and immediately you can feel his whole body sink. He hates when I complain about our sex life. And the venting began. I don’t even remember all of what I said, the contained words and emotions just bursted forth. I remember yelling out, “I know you don’t care about sex, but I DO!” and with clenched jaw calmly, “It may be enough for you to have sex every 4th or 5th night, but in my world there is no reason why we can’t be having it every single day – hell, multiple times a day!”. I was absolutely in no control of what was coming out of my mouth, it just continued to spew. I’d stop myself and try to silence that voice in my head, and then without even being aware, words would just start jumping. That’s what happens when I let it fester too long.

I finally finish, all the words now escaped, and my heart is pounding heavy in my ears, my palms are sweating profusely and all I keep thinking is “Say something, say something, say something!” – not even to the tune of the catchy song, just an unending repeating line. In the silence, insecurity grows. In what felt like hours, but really only amounted to minutes, my thoughts became so distorted. I couldn’t even remember what I was attempting to do when I started it all, and I felt like we were worlds away from each other, even though he was mere inches away in bed! “Say something, say something, say something!”.

The issue was no longer his sex drive, the issue was now mine. The frustration was no longer about wanting to have sex, it was now about how much of a freak I was for wanting so much sex. The problem wasn’t sex drives at all, the problem was my appearance. And once I get to that one, it is officially a point of no return. A point where I can’t hear what he has to say, because it’s all lies (even if it’s not, my brain will not believe it). I can’t see anything and every thought immediately goes to “You’re fat”, “You’re ugly”, “You’re undesirable”, “You’re unwanted” and it just spirals and spirals and spirals.

I’m not typically a girl who cares much about what other people think about my appearance. Yeah, when you call me names or whatever, I’m likely to cry, but be truly and profoundly upset by it – to the point where it screws with my psyche – it’s pretty rare. I’m very accepting of my weight, I don’t hate my curves or the extra padding around my hips. Yes, I have acne and frizzy straight hair and I’m well aware that I’m nowhere close to a supermodel. But do I really care all that much? Do I spend a lot of my day considering those things? Not really.

However, silence… His silence… During a point where I’m sexually frustrated… Insecurity grows and grows and grows until eventually it’s so loud and so big that you can’t ignore it no matter how hard you try. Every little flaw that ever even flickered through your mind, wasn’t even a lasting insecurity, just flickered there, every single one comes rushing out of the recesses of your memory and suddenly, you are the ugliest, fattest, most undesirable, disgusting, low-life, worth nothing piece of crap.

And I know that this is not realistic. I know that this is the abuse cycle coursing through my veins. I know that he thinks none of those things at all, because he IS NOT Alfie. I know that his silence doesn’t mean anything more than him processing. I try everything to control this irrational insecurity.

I turn playful, because apparently this is my new defense mechanism. If I’m smiling or joking or laughing, or poking or prodding or tickling, then all is good. I feel protected and I feel like I am protecting them from the craziness that is me…

I grab at his arms and wrap my arms about him, my heart still pounding, and nuzzle into him playfully shaking him, “Say something, anything. What are you thinking?!?”, my voice trying to sound encouraging, supportive, communicative – even though I can feel myself crumbling to pieces the longer he doesn’t repond. And it took forever before he finally made any movements like he was going to do or say anything.

He said exactly one sentence. He says it everytime I try to have a serious discussion about my mounting sexual desires and his declining sex drive. “I just know everything i say is going to get turned back around on me”.

Now, I’d like to take a second to point out that (1) This is not something that I used to do. He said this the first time we ever had a serious discussion about anything, before anything had ever gotten “turned back around” on him. (2) That what he means by this exactly has never really been defined. Apparently, from what I can gather at this point, it is any response you may have to what he says. You can tell him he’s right, you can tell him he’s wrong, you can change the subject, it does not matter. Whenever you respond with anything but silence, this is considered as you turning something back around on him.

I am not saying anything negative about the way that he is expressing himself. I’ve been with him long enough to be able to read through the figurative lines here. I know that he feels beyond emmasculated when I pick apart our relatively great sex life and I know that he has no words to express that feeling. I know that he’s feeling vulnerable and needs support even when I’m criticising him. I know that his communication methods are deeply flawed and so does he. So I assure him that I won’t turn it “back around” on him, that I will do my best to just keep my mouth shut.

Often, I’ve discovered, after three days that mounting sexual frustration gets to be too much for me. And my way of dealing with it is to playfully whine to The Boyfriend, “You suck” or “You’re a dink!” and when it’s real bad, a very much joking and I would even argue, flirtatious “I hate you!”. Again, it’s that protection and self-preservation. I don’t want to say what I’m really feeling, like “I feel undesirable”, so I say, most commonly, “You suck!”.

So he blurts out, “It’s because you beat me down, like with ‘You suck’ and stuff like that.”. Again, this is a common phrase that he throws out. He is a master deflector. My jaw always drops, no matter how many times we have this discussion. It immediately puts me on the defensive, because I’ve explained numerous times to him the reason I say “You suck”, as opposed to pouring my broken insecure heart out to him… I begin to explain that to him again and in the process, turn the whole thing “back around” on him.

Silence falls between the two of us. My heart is pounded the loudest and fastest rhythm I’ve ever heard, and his breathing quiets until he is officially asleep. I’m left wide awake, fuming, reeling, on the verge of puking from the mini panic attack I’m having at the deep and awkward, uncomfortable silence that lingers in the air.

I went to bed, the only thought in my head, re-playing itself over and over again, lulling me to sleep, “I’m done!, I’m done!, I’m done!”, over and over and over.

When his alarm went off for work this morning, I threw it at him harder than I had meant to. When I woke up next, he was gone to work and “I’m done” was still streaming through my head. When I got out of bed, he called minutes later and I… am… just… done!

What that means… I couldn’t even begin to tell you. My brain cannot even get anywhere past the word done. I have no idea what it means, or how I’m going to figure out what it means or anything. I have no idea… I’m just done…