The Repercussion of Things Said Too Soon

I don’t throw the word “love” around much anymore.
Saying it out loud seems to make it disappear.

The L word is the kiss of death when uttered too soon to someone not ready to hear it… even if they already know.

I don’t throw the word “love” around much anymore.
Saying it out loud seems to make it disappear.

Maybe I should have kept that to myself until we were both ready.  But it was how I felt.  Deep down I wondered if you felt even a portion of what I did.  But you didn’t.  You were too selfish to let anyone in but yourself.  The thing is, you’re so insecure that you don’t even do that.

Love is based on sharing an emotional piece of yourself with someone else.  Why does telling someone how you feel about them have to come with such major repercussions?

The act of falling in love is the craziest experience one can ever do.  It encompasses you.  It takes you away.  And when it’s over… you never feel more alive.  There’s just so much pain in even the wake of it.

I don’t throw the word “love” around much anymore.
Saying it out loud seems to make it disappear.

Things like this take time. It’s not easy by any stretch of the imagination. The heart is a very delicate thing.

Emotions are gifts and they are also vices. Blessed are those that are truly virtuous to maintain a degree of decorum in the midst of a storm.

Love is a battlefield. You don’t have to retreat but you should keep your shield up- lest your sanity be obliterated more so by the blow of unrequited love and heartache.

 

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December 10th, 2006

The day after.

I was reminded of this in a conversation before work.

December 9th, 2006:

I knew my marriage was over before then.

But never in a million years did I believe I could have married a monster.

Everytime I enter into anything serious, it’s in the back of my mind.

I feel as if I were a toxin.

I bring the best out of people.

I bring out the worst.

The evening before was the most horrific event of my life.

My husband was moving my things upstairs.

Separation full and complete.

As best as we could while still living together at least.

I cried.

I didn’t know what was about to happen though.

He set up my desk in the other room upstairs.  He stood there and looked at me.

We hadn’t had sex in months.

He looked across at me with dead eyes.

I asked “Are you doing this because you really love me and want the best for me.. even if it’s not you?”

Then he kissed me.

I asked him “Why are you doing this? Do you love me ?  Do you love me?”

He pushed me against the wall, pulled down my pants and put himself inside me.

I told him, “No.  I only want to have this with love.   Do you love me? Do you love me?”

He continued.

Put me on the floor and kept going until I put my hands over my face, curled into a ball and cried.

I was reminded of that night this morning.

I could visualize it and relive it.

The sound.

The quiet.

The tears.

I fell apart that night.

I was a doe in headlights.

The person I was supposed to trust with everything.  The man I gave my life to… been vulnerable with… bore children with…

violated me in the worst way possible.

I was an absolute mess back then.

He stopped and went downstairs.

When I asked why he did that, he said “Because I wanted to have sex and figured you did too.  But that was all it was.. I don’t love you…and didn’t want to complicate things”

December 10th, 2006:  The day after.

I’d seen this piercing on one other person online.  It wasn’t common.  I previously had nothing done beyond my ears.

I thought it looked like tears.

I vowed after that night that I would never let anyone make me feel like I did that night.  I wasn’t going to cry anymore.

And that’s why I have my antibrow pierced.

It was a cheers to my new found independence… to the struggles I have been through… to the tears that I’ve cried. I’m stronger now. They’re not going to weigh me down.

It is my visual reminder of where I’ve been.  Of the roads I walked.  Of poor decisions.  Of finally making the right decisions.

Of steps forward.

Of steps back.

Of steps towards a future of opportunities.

Perhaps it wasn’t so bad I was reminded about this this morning.  Because it wasn’t until that day that I remembered how much it was to feel alive.  How I was never going to deal with that shit again.

Perhaps… it’s time to push myself even harder again and remember that day of strength.

It’s just a prick…

The brightly colored large tacks that hold up my French prints have been falling off mysteriously.  I’m not sure as to why exactly.  They’ve been on the walls months.  It’s only been starting recently.

Perhaps gravity is setting in and the weight is pulling on them.

Perhaps it’s something else entirely.

But when another tack and picture fell he instinctively went to fix it.

My room is still in shambles from the Holiday activities.  You didn’t think that just because I’ve been off the radar meant I’d become a nun did you?

It had been a romantic evening.  Dinner and then a moonlit walk on the pier.  It hadn’t been completely perfect, but it was damn near that way.

I’ve been doing a lot of thinking.  After everything with Mr Parker.. of saying my goodbyes and throwing pennies to the air on New Years.

Polyamory.

Sometimes it’s.. not the greatest experience for my lovers, specifically for him.

We were about to lay in bed.  We looked up.  He noticed the line print fall.  It was the second one to fall this week.  He went to fix it.  I told him not to worry about it.  He was trying to be a gentleman.

Disastrous.

He fished around the clothes near the side of the bed looking for the brightly colored tack.  He didn’t find it.

He found something else.

That.

And there was a moment of silence as he picked it up off the floor and looked up at me.

“I always get up afterwards and go to the bathroom.”

I couln’t breathe.  For a moment there, despite my honesty, I was worried that I’d blown it.

“It’s probably from one of our multiple sessions.  I’m sure it’s nothing.  Don’t worry about it.”

He went to the bathroom and threw it away.  The silence was deafening.  I hung my head a little lower.

Please don’t tell me I ruined it.  Please don’t tell me I ruined it. Please don’t tell me..

I…

ruined…

it.

Fuck.

I did didn’t I?  God damnit.

To be continued…

Bribery.

He came back with comics.  Everything that had happened the night before seemed to drop away to nothing.  Tales of zombies, foul language and irreverancy.  Tales that keep me going through the days.

Everything faded to the background.  Nothing else mattered.  But he had to leave again after.  I was bummed, but it was the way of things.

Entrances and exits.

He lights the stage and disappears.  It’s his job.  No wonder he does it so well.

I guess I’m easy to please… in some ways.  All day yesterday I waited patiently. Impatiently.  This weekend’s “plans” turned into a lot of me waiting around for him.  I’d not gone out on

  1. a date with a pornstar with “a little following”
  2. drinks with friends
  3. date 3 at “our bar”

etcetera etcetera

Priorities…

Well, time is a priority.  This weekend will not occur again.  He was warned. Nay, instructed.  He apologized emphatically.

When he finally came by, it was another comic book.. and handcuffs.  Add some hot wax, and well, all was forgiven if only for a moment.

  • A school girl outfit.
  • Pigtails.
  • Hands pinned down

He was to be punished.  Only to watch.  Temptation at its finest.

The next time we go to a sex shop- as we did this weekend-there are more rations to be bought. A checklist of sorts.  My vanity feels a bit empty with what’s in there currently.  The ropes bid company beyond those vials of decadent pleasures.

And something else.  Midst all of this, we talked about home.  How I missed San Diego… let’s just say..

TO BE CONTINUED…

Just one more reason..

There was an email sent to us at work “Take off 9am-11am and get paid if you are going to vote.”

The issues.. Prop 8, Prop 2, Prop K (I wish I lived in San Francisco to vote on it), and of course the Presidential election.

I remember the words of my dad circa the Primaries “I doubt you’re even going to vote.”
The polls show what looks to be a landslide in favor of Obama. The main reason to vote.. So if it’s already a given, why bother?

And then there’s the promotions… Ben & Jerrys, Starbucks, cookies here, a drink at the Edison.
Suddenly the idea sounds a bit better right?

The devils advocate would say: no one would know either way. I mean, it’s against the law for them to ask for that “I voted sticker” in exchange for goods. You could theoretically get the sticker itself from a local drug store or borrow your friends.

One motivating factor trumped them all.. this button passed along on tumblr a week ago..

So as I prep to get ready to walk to the polls.. the naughty notion just dances through my mind. My polling place is at a school down the street. How to dress.. the right skirt.. the glasses.. do I make a phone call or replay the last scene of Choke?

Hmmm… anonymous voting.

We shall see.. we shall see…
Oh and if you’re going to be at the Edison later for the Causecast/LAist party… I shall see you there tnite my friends. To celebrate the changes that are underway for our country.. and gather round with the like minded people who took the time out of their day motivated by the things that really matter and not just the hype and fluff of corporate promotions (which I fully intend to take advantage of too, don’t kid yourself).
Rock the vote everyone.
And now to get ready to go the polls.. apparently my polling place is a madhouse

why wait?

Saw this question on Ok Cupid.   Thought it was interesting.
Does the “I’m waiting for marriage” type turn you on?

Yes

No

I’m going with no.

Why? Because lets be frank, I want to test the ride before I even dare commit to saying “Why yes this is what I’m going to do with the rest of my life” regardless if I’m in an open or poly relationship. For me, sex is an absolute must.

It’s not the only thing that makes the relationship, but its a part of communication which i feel is integral to a relationship that is anything more than platonic.

Because let’s face it. Talk is cheap.

If its that you’re not interested in exploring a sexual relationship, fine.  Be my friend.  But don’t waste my time and think you will be my lover.

While yes, you can argue that there’s much that can be done without the act of penetration that is still quite enjoyable, it is the means to an end that simply begs to be fullfilled.

I’ll be a bitch and say it- women get “blue balls” too. About a month ago I was getting really involved with a gentleman.  He starts going down on me and suddenly had to go.  He was there on a break from work and we didn’t plan on it going that far initially.  It sucked.  I went out for drinks with another friend of mine.  I bitched about it.  It was a tease of the vagina sort.

If I am in a relationship with someone, and get more action out of my sex toy than I do out of my significant, there’s a huge problem.  That person obviously doesn’t find something about my significant.  Hell with some of the jerks I’ve dated, the only thing semi significant is the sex anyway.  To be exclusive with me you’re going to have to put out.  It’s a hardship I know.

So potentials… put out or pass please.  I’m only interested in a lover that wants the whole me- and that includes the sexual chemistry.  I’ll still respect your morals or at least do the best I can (if you are interested in Scientology for example though, I will um.. try not to laugh at you if I even entertain bedding you).

Selfish selfish me I suppose.  I crave to be satisfied.

And now since my roommate is gone, I’m off to have even louder orgasms than I usually allow myself out of courtesy (oh and well being gagged).

*Cheers*

Of Rainbows and Lollipops and Chains of Desire

So I’m a bit rough around the edges.. I’m gritty in the soul.  I’m a dreamer… a weaver of fairytales, of magic and woe.

I will take your heart in my hands and make no promises not to break it.  I’ll cradle you close to mine… kiss your eyes goodnight and whisper sing softly lullabies.

Oh sweet goodnights my dear love..

I don’t bet you will be here in the morning.

But cuddle me close in a warm soft small blanket, with only the sound of our heartbeats, and the soft bit of mist from breaths to glaze

Even if it’s just for one night.  Tonight, the fire burns forever.  And only you and I exist.

I want a dream that will last forever.
I want the magic to never stop.
For the musicbox to continue to play on.

My pen dances across the page.  Thoughts of you and I race and a vision of you comes vividly in my mind.  We are there entangled in arms.  The heat of passion envelops us as the rest of the world blurs out of focus.

Capture the moments in film.. of a staticy memory playing ever constant in my mind.  As the music plays on.. I know you will never die.

I am looking for my place to perch… for the one that will hold me, and not hold me down… the one who will take my hand and fly.

I am an enigma.  Steady as a river, but as random as a riptide.

Try to understand that of which you do not understand…  even if only for a moment.

I am a pretty disease.  I’m the cold that you can’t seem to shake..

You will never be free of the mark I leave on you.  Like the waves make impressions on the rocks over time. You have now been branded a heart on.

So wrap me up in cellophane.
Hang me up to dry.
With origami cranes and shiny plastic bows.. try to capture a bit of spirit and tuck it safely in your hideaway… save some stardust for another day.

Let’s throw back the lollipop.
Rip the childish fascade away.
I will be your daydream of warm cookies and your wet despicably luscious desire.

But never try and catch me.  Never try and cage me… lest I slip through your fingers and escape back into the night sky.  A star to shine again ever so brightly.. a light you jump to try and touch… just one more time.