The sweetest gesture (to a geek)

It's no secret we met video gaming. We're both gamers -- in our own way. He's much more experienced and varied in his choices of types of games and consoles. He loves variety whereas I'm much more focused - I tend to pick a game or two and play them to death. I'll play the same games for years before I'm ready to move on.

For us, gaming has been huge. We met role-playing in our video game. (I was his female character's mom...  he used to type in group chat "MOMMY!!!!" whenever I logged in. I'd completely forgotten about this until he reminded me a couple of weeks ago.)  When we moved in, we still played the same video game, this time across the room rather than across hundreds of miles.

We also branched out to Wii games (my console) and I tried to learn to play his Xbox. I'd never even picked up a controller and it was very frustrating to learn. I tried but we kept reverting to simpler Wii games out of my frustration.  He continued to play Xbox solo.

I watched him play his Xbox. He told me about when he could afford the subscription and he would play Halo and how much he enjoyed playing and trash talking. It's not something I would ever be interested in (or even interested to hear) but I admired the skill that goes into something like that. It wasn't just the skill of playing... it was the excited passion you see when someone genuinely enjoys something. His eyes would light up.

Once I was watching him play solo and I remember seeing the "Killionaire" award flash across the screen. I didn't think much of it until I read in the news the next day how its the rarest title awarded in Halo 4 due to the difficulty of achieving it: 10 deaths in 36 seconds (each one within 4 seconds of the last). I asked him about it the next time I saw it pop across the screen. I would die to achieve that level of playing in a game I loved. To him, it was no big deal. It happened so often he'd stopped taking notice of it.

A couple of months ago, we were playing our favorite game together (Lord of the Rings Online, aka LOTRO, aka where we met) and I asked him how many points he had saved to buy an expansion that had recently come out.  (For background: he was gifted a subscription last year that awards 500 points a month to be used in the store for content, bonuses, etc. Since we're tight on cash to spend on frivolous things like extra gaming content, we'd been saving these points to buy new content.)

It turns out, he'd been spending his points on other perks rather than saving them, so he couldn't buy the content and wouldn't have the points for another three months or so. I had just purchased the content with my saved points and was really disappointed. And a bit angry. We were supposed to be saving to play content together... and now we'd have three months of gaming where he couldn't join me in this new area.

It was a huge disappointment, but not the end of the world. Three months would pass quickly.

The next day when I came home from work, he asked if I wanted to join him in playing the new content. I had no idea what he was talking about - he couldn't afford it yesterday. I asked him what had changed.

He said, "I sold my Xbox."

It took a moment to sink in. "You did what!?"

"I sold my Xbox."

"But..... WHY?"

"So we could play together," he shrugged it off.

"But.... but... your Xbox! Honey... I never expected you to...or wanted you to..."

"I know. But we don't play it together and I'm not really interested in playing solo anymore and this way we get to do everything together. I didn't like how disappointed you were yesterday."

I had no words at this point. Tears in my eyes I just hugged him. What else could I do? He just sold something that had been one of his prized possessions in order to pay for gaming content we could play together.

It's the most romantic gesture I've ever heard of or received and I can't express the incredible love I have for a man to love me so much, he'll sell his Xbox to spend more time with me.

One day, I'm going to buy him a new one.

TMI Tuesday: Navigating Sex

1. Answer Yes or No:
I Regret My First Kiss - yes.... only in that, it should have happened with someone else much earlier. Oddly enough, if I'd had the first kiss I should have, I would never have married my ex since I would have known what chemistry was. But I held off on the first kiss in the name of "saving it all for that special someone." Oh, the irony.
I Miss My First Love - no. We're still friends.
I Married My First Love - no.
I Loved Someone That Didn’t Love Me - no.

2. Do you consider yourself monogamous or polyamorous or some other category which you will explain or define for us now?
Other. And I made a little image to illustrate it. (We are the pink dot).
 

We started as monogamous, but we're heading more toward the polyamory side. I say 'we' even though its more like me. He is not interested in having extra relationships even though I'd be comfortable with him doing that. He is interested and supportive of me pursuing relationships with women as I'm not at all comfortable or able to be a swinger. We've discussed having additional male partners play with me and its something we'd both like to try. However, it would be more of a polyamorous connection than swinging as I need to have an emotional connection in order to have attraction and desire. I'm sure there's a better way to explain it, but I have no idea how that would be phrased.

3. Your partner is in the mood for sex and you are tired – what do you do?
a. Start snoring. There is no way I’m giving it up tonight.
b. Trade. You give me a massage… and we will see…
c. That would never happen!

It used to be C, but with my longer work hours and his early starts, its just not always feasible for us. Recently what we've done is cuddled as the horny one masturbated. This leaves about a 30% chance to mutual masturbation and/or sex anyway.  I'm not sure if there's anything sexier than having your lover hold you while they masturbate.

4. Does your partner mind if you masturbate, in bed, when they are there?
He only minds it if I wake him up from my moaning. And he never remembers it the next day, anyway. The most I get is him turning over to check on me, say a quick "You're naughty!" and he rolls back over.

5. Describe your typical sexual romp:
a. You are playful and tame
b. You have occasionally introduced a few things like outfits and toys
c. You love trying new things and shocking your partner

I'd say we're a B here. We normally don't shock each other... we're a slut for each other and we know that. 

Bonus: What was your best ever masturbation experience. Why was it the best? Describe.
Best ever? Impossible. I don't rate them and there's no way I could keep track of so many. Oh, I have a new favorite masturbation fantasy... but that will have to wait for a separate blog entry.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

A letter to Ugly

Note: This letter, while in response to a post an anonymous post at Molly's Daily Kiss called I am Ugly, is something I think any woman may need to read at some point. This is to all of us, when we feel 'ugly.'

Dear Ugly,
You are not alone. You may feel alone, but that does not mean that you are alone in your experience. Despite the wide reaches of the internet, its still possible to feel very lonely. Please hear me out as a sister of your suffering.

You and I are very similar.

I am also overweight. You are nearly 50 lbs overweight, I am over 90 lbs according to the published BMI ranges for my height. It's not a fun place to be. Some days its hard to look in the mirror. Your fat jeans become your normal jeans. And then your new fat jeans are the next size up and you can't believe you've jumped another size. Getting back to where you were seems like a hard, dangerous road. It's long, lonely, and difficult.

I also have too much hair on my body. I have PCOS, which means I have way more testosterone in my body than a woman should. I pluck every day to keep my chin hair, neck hair, mustache hair, and eyebrow hairs in check. I don't do a good job at it. I hate it when my lover notices if I missed a hair. Sometimes my facial hair grows really long, just one long strand on my face that is invisible until my lover tries to brush it away only to realize its connected. I have a happy trail I have to shave away. I have so much pubic hair I have to shave or wax or I get rashes from all the hair and the sweat it retains from the day. If I don't shave my legs every day, you can see it. I have more underarm hair than my male lover. I have to pluck hair from my nipples. I have hair on my toes, so much so that both lovers in my life have called me "hobbit." I struggle every day with my hair.

I have ugly stretch marks all over my thighs and stomach from two periods of depression in my life where I gained weight so fast. Now they won't go away. If a swimsuit is humiliating, then a swimsuit with long stretch marks down your thighs is even more so, because I'd have to wear men's shorts to hide them. So I stopped swimming.

Like you, I had a lover who found my body useful for sex but found parts of it unattractive. He didn't want whole parts of me. The sex was awful and I dreaded it. He gave me compliments, but the words were flat, empty, and meaningless. They were tokens of something that wasn't there. I tried to call him on it, but it just caused problems.

So, Ugly, we are not that different. In some ways, we live and have lived the same life. But that is where the similarities end.

Unlike you, I do not think I am ugly. In fact, I've found that I'm a beautiful person. I'm more round that I'd like to be, but I have beautiful breasts (saggy though they may be as DDs) and a big ass (cellulite, hairy ass crack, and all). I may have lots of hair, but its a nice brown color where I don't remove it. My body is high maintenance. My skin is always dry and my scalp is flaky no matter what products I use. I just make the best of it.

But I like my body. I try to take care of it. Even though I'm overweight I won't give up trying to lose that weight, even if PCOS makes it harder for me.

I found confidence by looking in the mirror and making myself say one positive thing about myself ten times each day. Even now I look in the mirror and remind myself how pretty my eyes are. I joined twitter and blogging and saw that there were women whose bodies were similar to mine that many (not everyone) though was beautiful.

That's the beauty of this world. There are so many types of bodies with all sorts of features; everyone has an admirer. If you don't believe me, go browse porn or tumblr. The variety is greater than I ever imagined.

But here's the biggest difference between us: how you treat yourself and see yourself tells others how to treat you. It is not your fault that you lover and partner is a complete asshole when it comes to showing affection towards you. It is, however, your fault for letting it continue as long as it has.

Relationships have ups and downs and attraction and frequency of sex may change through the years, but there is never an excuse for a partner to not comfort you, not look after your emotional well being, and to make sure you are pursued and loved.

That is betrayal. You think that another could never find you attractive. You're doomed to a life alone and unwanted. Who doomed you to such a fate? There is no wicked witch in this lifetime. Only you could choose that future -- so why are you so resigned to take it? There is another option.

You can find a new future. It can be whatever you want. I broke off a 6 year marriage and 9 year relationship with my former lover. He was my first kiss, my first everything. He broke my heart. I was right there in your shoes, willing to live and die because I promised I would always stay. But what about his promise? Didn't he promise to love and cherish also? Isn't that promise just as broken when my heart is in pieces? Did I promise to stay with in unhappy, unfulfilled life no matter what? No.

You don't have to stay in this. You have a say in whatever happens to you. You can be resigned to your life of not being appreciated for who you are, but I promise you there is someone out there who would love you and appreciate you more for who you are. They would love every part of your body, flabby, fat, hairy, or not.

I certainly found one. And he loves every single hairy, flabby, stretched mark part of me. He loves those parts of me so much I've cried during sex from the powerful emotions.

And to think I almost never knew because I was almost too scared to think I deserved better.

You deserve better, too. You deserve more credit from yourself but just as importantly, you deserve better from your lover. I hope you find that confidence and that partner, whether its from your current husband or someone new.

All my support and cheerleading,
The other you

Video Clip: Doggie style with butt plug

So one day in February he plugged my ass and bent me over the bed for some DP-light. He filmed this because the view was so great -- and when I saw it when we were done, I knew I wanted to share it.

Prior to the start of the film, he had fucked doggie style until I squirted. Then he plugged me and got out the camera.... at the start of this clip, I've already had two or three orgasms, so I'm pretty euphoric from the start. Enjoy!


Doggie style with butt plug brought to you by PornHub

After the clip ends, he flipped me over and kept going, fingering my clit to orgasm before having me flip back onto my stomach for the big finish.

Just another day

It's Valentine's Day... and we really don't care.

Last year was our first Valentine's Day together, I told him that if he did ANYTHING for this day, it would end up in a fight and a major problem for not listening to me.  The first time I told him, he said OK. And then after a moment's pause, he asked, "Wait... you're not doing that woman thing where you say you don't want anything, but if I don't, you'll get mad at me, right?"

"What do you think?"

"Well, you're not like that, but I'm just checking."

"I'm 100% serious. You give me anything to make this day different than any other day, you will be in big trouble."

Smart guy, he listened and the day was like no other.

I've always been this way. Growing up, I hated this day. The stupid little cards you gave to every person in your class so no one would be left out were so meaningless. What was a "valentine," anyway to a third grader? I remember one year the teacher said that giving Valentines were optional. I chose not to bring any - and I was the ONLY student in my class of 25 who didn't bring any. I felt embarrassed and mad. Signing your name to a card didn't mean you felt any one way about me. It was a stupid tradition with no point.

Every year, my mom made the day special. Every year she gave us each a personalized card and a little gift. There was always chocolate, but there was always a gift telling us how she loved and appreciated my sister and I. It was special appreciation for us as daughters. While I hated the commercialism of the day, I loved and looked forward to her gifts. She made the day special for us.

But romantic interests? In grade school it was out of place and awkward. I received one Valentine in high school from my long-distance quasi-boyfriend. It was sweet, but unnecessary. I hadn't expected it and appreciated the gesture.

All I heard about the dreaded V-day was failed expectations, sickening displays of affection that came wrapped in Made in China teddy bears and cheap chocolate candy. I just didn't care or what any part of it.

If you love me, show me every day. Make dates. Be romantic randomly. Make an effort to make any day special for us. I don't need chalky candy hearts or red and gold heart-shaped boxes to tell me how you feel. If that's the only way or time you do, we have problems.

There's no point to celebrating this mother of all fake holidays other than to support cheap manufacturing and overly sentimental romantic whims. Growing up I saw huge expectations women placed on men based on movies and media, and men hopelessly trying to figure out what to do. What was the point of this?

I can't see one. So for us, today is just a normal day. Like the other 364 or 365 days of the year, we'll do our best to further our relationship, show our love, support one another, and each take opportunities to be romantic.

Oh, and he couldn't be happier about this viewpoint. He's had the awful expectations placed on him by ex-girlfriends who wanted him to figure it out and then have it blow up in his face when it wasn't quite what they expected or wanted. He's had girls say its no big deal and then it is because, well, it's the most special day of love, how could he be so inconsiderate? So, to say the least, he's very happy.

Dating profile and the dream

The other night, two things happened while the FHF was at class.

First, I started a dating profile on OKC looking specifically for local girls to date in a possible secondary relationship.

Woah.

It took me ages to set it up. I've never ventured into online dating. I've actually never tried to find a date, things just.... happen. So I looked, browsed, answered questions, looked at some potential matches and got excited.  Excited, but too nervous to take the first step. Plus, I didn't want to send of messages with an unfinished, brand new profile. So I forced myself to work on my profile.

Several hours later, it was up. When FHF came home, I told him the news and he was happy for me and wished me luck in finding someone. I'm so excited to have his support in this!

But I'm so incredibly nervous. I feel like an idiot who is running off into uncharted territory searching for who knows what...  I don't know how to do this!? If a message does come in (or if I get up the nerve to ask someone out) - I will be so nervous. I am choosing NOT to think about that right now.

And then that night: what I remember as my first ever girl-girl dream. I've often thought that the reason I've never had a lesbian dream before is because I've never had that girl-girl experience, so I have only my imagination to go off of - but my imagination feels so limited compared that its hard to imagine it.

The dream:
I am going to a back specialist because my large boobs and the bras accompanying them have made me have back problems. I go up to the office in a large office building and the waiting room is large. In fact, it looks like a physical therapy office with a welcome desk in the center and then people all around moving in different ways. There's an odd corner of people napping in sleeping bags and I shrug it off as some weird therapy tool. I hope I get to nap too, they look so comfy.

I'm asked to wait and I wonder with all of the people in the room how long my wait will be and what exactly she'll want me to do for my back. I assume some massage and then stretching that I won't enjoy.

A woman with dark raven hair approaches me. She is wearing black heals with pointed toes, bare legs, a wool skirt to the knee, dark blouse, and a white doctor's coat that ends mid-thigh. She looks like a TV doctor: professional, beautiful, fit. Too perfect. She looks at her clipboard as she calls my name, eyeing me for conformation. I stand, and she invites me toward the back where I see there are small offices hidden along a back wall. They almost look like cubicles with doors rather than offices.

We step inside and I notice the room is bare save the carpet and a wood cupboard. So, there will be stretching and stuff I won't enjoy. And I don't see a sleeping bag, damn. 

"So, you have a girlfriend?" she asks.

I'm confused. How does she know I like women? "No," I answer, "but I have a fiance." I decide not to point out my fiance is a man and not a woman. I'd rather keep her thinking I like women.

She invites me to take off my shirt so she can examine where my bra is hitting me compared with my area of complaint and figure out how to help. I pull of my sweater, conscious of my boobs spilling out of my bra as she is turned away fumbling in the cupboard with something.

I turn away to fold my shirt and set my purse down. When I turn back around, there she is. The doctor's coat is gone, as is her skirt, and she's wearing a strap-on with harness. The dildo is pretty big. My eyes stare at it. 

"I'm sure you know what this is." I nod. She lays down on the floor. "Suck." she orders me.

I kneel down between her legs. She is wearing no underwear and the harness is framing her pussy just right. It's completely bare, freshly waxed. She has small pink pussy lips and I can see her clit peaking out at the apex. It looks slick with wetness.

"Suck," she orders again, interrupting my reverie. Her voices is strong and I don't question her authority. I wrap my lips around her dildo and start to suck slowly.

"I don't believe you. Suck like it was real. I want to imagine you wanting this dick." I lick the head and start bobbing slightly down the shaft. I'm so confused and I'm not sure what this has to do with physical therapy, but the sound of her voices makes me want to listen to her. My eyes flick up to her face and she's watching me, intensely.

I am craving her approval and wondering how far this will go. Will I be rewarded for my effort? I start taking longer strokes and trying to deep throat this dildo. It's longer than my fiance's -- there's no way I can do this. She sees my effort and encourages me with an approving "good girl."

Spit runs down the shaft as my lips pursue the end of it, reaching toward her pussy mound. I can smell her scent and its musk is delicious. I start to think about tasting it. My saliva starts dripping down the shaft and drops are spilling onto her. Once again I take a look at her and she is smiling, pleased with me. Her hands reach toward my head and she runs her slender fingers through my hair.

I look down at her cunt and see her lips are slick with wet. I want to taste her so much! I reach my hands up to grab her hips, but before I can touch her, she grabs my hands and slams them onto the floor beside her.  "No touching me today," she says. "Just suck for now."

For now. Today. So, what will happen in my future visits? 

He wants me to date a woman

I'm a bisexual woman. I want the opportunity to play with partners of both sexes. This is a topic my FHF and I have discussed at length. We've agreed that while our relationship is primary, the other is allowed, permitted, and encouraged to find partners of the opposite sex to play with.

Occasionally I browse craigslist just to see what people are looking for. That led to our first threesome last fall where I got to witness him sucking off penis and having his sucked by another guy. I pegged the guest and my FHF ate me out. It was fun, but the focus was certainly not me. I loved doing a lot of the observing.

I haven't even considered contacting any of the women's ads I see on craigslist.

That's now how I want it to happen. I'm not a casual sex person. It just doesn't compute. I can't go from the first hello to first kiss in minutes or even hours. I need to know who you are, what makes you tick. I need to know that you're attracted to me in mind and body. And I need to know your mind well enough to see if I'm attracted to you. I've discussed before that I might be a demisexual. (So, while I may see sexy and attraction, but I don't have sexual attraction until I know your personality).

I've discussed this with the FHF and he understands. Initially our agreement for opposite-sex play was that the non-play partner would be allowed to be present. We were both OK with this deal.... but now that I'm learning about how I attract to people, I've asked him to consider letting me have my space.

I need time. I need to date the person, you could say, and take things out our pace, whatever that may be. One day he may be invited to watch (I really hope she will let him watch, or even let him join in). However, he's agreed that he doesn't have to observe.

In fact, today, he told me that when I'm done travelling on business in a couple of weeks, that I should start looking for a local potential partner. I scoffed at finding someone in my area and just connecting. And then he said: "Well, meet for coffee. Start dating her. But I want you to find someone. I think you need it."

Four years ago I learned about polyamory. I thought it was perfect for me as a bisexual woman who has a desire to have caring sexual encounters with both sexes. And now, it seems that my FHF and I are possibly heading that way.

Whatever it turns out to be, I'm so happy to have a partner who is so supportive and willing to discuss and renegotiate our relationship as we change together.

Best Saturday of my life

If you haven't seen the big news that popped up over the weekend for us, here it is again:

We're engaged!

This wasn't planned, although if you're a reader of this blog, you can safely assume it hasn't been unexpected. We've always discussed marriage as a goal to this relationship: if we get there. Only 5 months into the relationship, he called me "Mrs ____" during sex, so we started the rule. As we approached our first year anniversary, we took another look at the rule and realized it was still relevant. Just a month or so ago, we realized the rule no longer existed, but things were just "waiting." 

Well, wait over!

We had talked rings and timing briefly -- As in, what I liked and wanted in a ring and if we were ready to really make this official. He's been ready for a while, but I really didn't want to become engaged until it had been a year and a half for us - so, in December or later seemed fine. 

Late last week, while texting me at work, he suggested we have a date night this weekend. We haven't had one in a while - months really - and I was so excited to do it. We planned a dinner and a movie: he could pick the movie and I would pick the restaurant. Now, we live together so we always eat and watch movies together. But we still make special times for dates out where we pay extra attention to what we wear, where we eat, and take a break from life.

Saturday was an excellent day. I woke up feeling very warm arms wrap themselves around me, and light kisses planted on my shoulder. My mind started to wake up and he said, "Morning my love. You are so beautiful, so sexy, so pretty, so smart, and so hardworking. I love you so much." I smiled and nestled back into him, feeling his soft dick fall in between my ass cheeks. He snuggled me and held me close.

We laid there quite a while, switching sides. At some point I flipped over and we shared some kisses before I nestled against his chest and let him kiss my forehead as he held me tight. His hands wandered up my body and I soon felt a hard cock against my thigh. I teased it slightly and started to tease him more. He begged for me to jack him off and I grabbed the lube to comply.

What followed was a hand CBT hand job. I didn't torture his cock unless you count a lot of edging and denying orgasm. My greatest torture was spanking his balls. Spanking, slight squeezing, and then some really hard spanking. It was the slowest motion I've made him cum with  my hand. I'll have to write up those details soon. It deserves its own post.

After his orgasm, I received several excellent orgasms via his fingers on my clit. My favorite part was feeling all of the fingers on his hand running through my very wet pussy. I love how he soaks his fingers in my juices. It's fucking hot to know he'll be smelling me on him all day.

We got up, got dressed, and spent our Saturday as we typically do: video gaming and flirting with each other. During the afternoon, I spent a couple of hours with some of my favorite twitter crushes PlumptiousPea and TisforTMI (both ladies have very hot blogs I recommend them both!) and the nasty men of the Wholesome Addiction podcast recording a special segment for an upcoming show. Two hours of flirting and laughing till my mouth was tired (unusual it gets so tired from laughing -wink wink-).

Needless to say, I was SO turned on from all this girl flirting (I went speechless many times through the recording) as was the BF my fiance (that will take some getting used to!) that we had to go fuck. Immediately. As soon as I stepped away from my mic, he looked at me and said, "Can we PLEASE go fuck now!?"

Off to the bedroom we went, kissing and grabbing at each other. I rode him cowgirl - furiously. Hard. Fast. Needy. He wanted me to make him orgasm and then keep fucking him. So I did. He kissed and sucked on my nipples as I rode him through both of our orgasms and watched his body tremble from pleasure under me. I felt him grow soft a little, so I climbed off and grabbed my Hitachi and masturbated with his hands wandering around my thighs, grabbing and gripping me, as I orgasmed. He was hard again, so I gave him a hand job with a blow job finish.

We still had two hours before our dinner reservation, so we napped holding each other for nearly an hour before getting up and eventually getting ready for our date. (My idea of getting ready was lounging around naked for 45 minutes). With 15 minutes until we had to leave, we both dressed. He dressed in khaki's and his best button down shirt and I dressed in black fishnets, hot pink skirt, and a chunky black sweater. I wore black leather ankle boots that he said were "fucking sexy" on me.

We made it to dinner on time - our first dinner at Benihana. It was my choice for a restaurant; neither of us had ever eaten there, but I knew it would be fun. We were seating with 2 other couples (leaving 2 seats free) so we had plenty of room. One couple kept to themselves, but we chatted somewhat with the other couple at the table.

Dinner was delicious. He kept rubbing my back with his arm. We were both just so fucking happy to have this evening out. It was a beautiful evening together. Dinner was fun and entertaining and we really enjoyed it. When it was over, we had nearly an hour until our movie started just across the street. We decided to drop off our leftovers at the car and then do some mall shopping. 

On our way to the car, he pulled my arm and said, "Hey, wait a moment." I turned, wondering what he could want. It was cold, chilly, and slightly raining. I turned to him and there he was, on one knee, holding up this beautiful ring. I think my mouth dropped open and he said, "Will you marry me?" And then I smothered him.

My ring - white topaz, not a diamond per my request

No really, I did. I grabbed his head and smothered him in my boobs and held him for dear life. At that point, he struggled to stand up and give me a proper hug. The ring was slipped on my finger, and I hugged and kissed him. I almost started crying, but seeing him struggle away from suffocating in my boobs made me laugh too much and too hard to let any tears fall. We spent the next twenty minutes just wandering the mall and decided the movie was not what we wanted tonight. We wanted to just spend time together interacting rather than sitting in a dark theater.

So we drove him, me deliriously happy and he just smiled. And then, true to our roots, we hopped online and told one of our closest gamer friends the good news. And then I started crying. Then I posted the news on facebook and texted my parents (I knew they would be surprised and would need time to digest the news vs a happy call from me). And then I announced the news on twitter. 

Then I took my fiance into the bedroom and said, "I need to attack you!" and I did.

The past 24 hours I've had nothing but congratulations, and kind, lovely words from everyone. It really was the best day.

Engaged

We went to dinner at Benihana.

We had a lovely, fun dinner.

He proposed just at the end.

I said yes.  

More to come...

Cheating isn't a 'sex positive' activity

A few days ago on twitter, I saw some tweets from someone I followed. He and I have chatted a bit and I know the following about him: He a kinky bisexual and married but keeps his sexuality and desire for kink secret from his wife out of fear of her reaction to the truth. I have no problem with this. I've encouraged him to be open, honest, take it slow, start small, etc. It seems it's gotten a bit better, but he remains frustrated.

But then, a few days ago, he tweeted he wanted to look for other married men to hook up with behind his wife's back because she wouldn't understand.

And that is when I unfollowed him.

I then tweeted about how I will not follow folks on twitter or blogs who are obviously cheating on their partner/spouses.  I was a little bit surprised when a fellow blogger and twitter friend suggested I was judging those people and that I shouldn't label all cheating in one foul swoop of "you are bad."

Really?

I don't take comments like this lightly. I've seriously considered my POV of this, so let me explain a bit. I respect this blogger even though we don't always see eye to eye on topics. (See his blog post on my harsh line on cheating here). Was I being too harsh?

No, and here's why: Cheating on your partner and telling the rest of the world about it is like hitting your spouse and tweeting about it, but this time the whole world "celebrates" and "supports" you in the name of "being real" and "sex positive."

"But cheating happens. You can't prevent it. People have their own choice in life so sometimes they cheat. It's not our place to say what's good/bad or right/wrong", is it? Well, if you're intentionally acting in a way that's against the agreement in your relationship, then yes, I'm going to stand up and say, "That's wrong." If it weren't wrong, you wouldn't be hiding this information from your spouse!  Not everyone lives by the same rules and there are few universal rules in this world -- but if you know its wrong, then I'm not going to encourage you to act on it.  For me, that means following you, commenting on your blogs, and therefore saying that, yes, you are a person I would like to know more.

Cheating happens; I get that.. it doesn't make it any better or more ok than any other action where your spouse gets hurt. For some relationships its a breaking point; for others, its a hiccup in the road. Either way, it's not a positive action so I can't support you in it. I wouldn't support other negative actions like abuse, rape, lying, stealing, or insulting either. It's a negative action.

Those who cheat seem to be too depressed/frustrated/stressed/angry/unhappy/lonely/horny in their relationship, so cheating becomes an escape from their reality*. For those situations, I really see two options here: cheat, or break up. There is no way to justify cheating. "Oh, but my relationship with my partner is complicated." SO WHAT? Relationships are hard. Work on it, or have the basic human decency to tell your partner the truth rather than lie about it. You either disrespect your partner in one of the most personal ways possible, or you leave because the relationship is too broken to fix or you don't really want to put in the effort. (Or, you really are scum and a douchebag because you just don't care.)

"Cheating" happens to two people - the one who cheats, and the one who will probably find out at some point. Some couples break up, others don't. Don't tell the world you're cheating via sex blog or twitter and expect everyone to cheer you on and say "Yay! Good for you for getting what you want!"

What about the other half of that relationship? By your own admission you know your spouse wouldn't be happy about this - so how can I be happy for you?

For the record, I've unfollowed people on twitter (tweeters? that sounds dirty) and bloggers for: cheating and frequent spouse bad mouthing. It all comes down to respect - if you can't respect your partner in some of the most basic ways, then I can't respect you and I really don't want to be involved with you in any way. It is my line in the sand.

*I offered, as a sarcastic option, that the only justification for cheating would be if the partner was in a multi-year coma. As in, so much time as passed and there's no certainty anything will ever be back to normal, then yeah, go ahead and cheat. Would I act by that? I'm not sure. My relationship has the potential to be open, and I think my BF would understand if I needed to have my bed rocked every so often during his years of comatose state.

Reflections

If you were following me on twitter this week, you saw the emotional rollercoaster I was on. Tuesday was a very low point for me, perhaps the lowest I've been since my divorce. I was coming up to a very important work deadline (that happened today) and at the crisis point of "It's not going to happen!"

I knew October would be busy, but the exact number of "top priority" assignments that happened turned into way too many twelve and fourteen hour days, weekend hours, high stress levels, and very little acknowledgement of just how hard I worked to make it all possible. My boss has said repeatedly he believes in having 5 "number 1 priority" assignments and being able to handle it - its part of how he manages. Well, that culminated to Tuesday, partially.

What else happened Tuesday, because I kept it off twitter, was the BF and I were having an argument. A really, really bad one. I was at work, so it all happened in angry texts (never EVER smart) and things were said out of anger and not clarified for hours.

Even in my crappy marriage, I've never fought quite like this. To some that might be surprising, but I think, when you are really in it, it means more to you and you're willing to fight harder for it.

The text that refocused me was this one:
I am sick of your job spilling over and I pay for it with you being crabby with me.

Ouch. I completely deserved that. My mentor frequently tells me that I need to get a handle on my stress. I need to learn to deal with it in a healthy way.

The thing is, I have almost zero healthy ways of dealing with stress. All I do is internalize it until I explode, like I did Tuesday night, into a pile of tears. And wait for it to happen again. It eats at me. I blame myself. I miss sleep. I skip meals. I stop worrying about my appearance. I'm way to focused on "making it better" when all I do is run around like a mad woman, not realizing I'm the problem, not the rest of the world.

For years I've struggled with "boundaries" on what is in my control vs what I think is in my control. Growing up, you just didn't make mistakes. Every mistake was considered "on purpose" and was therefore punishable. It didn't matter if you forgot or simply didn't know. You should have remembered or been smart enough to figure it out. In a way, it turned my sister and I into over-achieving machines. We both had straight A's until college where, if we got a B or B+, we cried over every test and quiz result. I have few fun stories from college because I spent so many hours studying and doing homework and working. I double majored in two degrees with ZERO overlapping credits while working part time and still managed to graduate in four years with a 3.89 GPA.

My career has been no different. If I'm not promoted at least every 18 months, I feel there's something wrong. If I'm not meeting every deadline and exceeding every expectation, there's something wrong.

That's not a bad goal to have, is it? My parents certainly don't think so. But then again, let's review my personal life. I don't exercise. I barely sleep well. I have frequent neck/head aches. I take stress home and turn on those closest to me. My life is backwards!

Tuesday night, he apologized. Then I apologized. And then I admitted something that is so hard to say: I need help. I don't know how to ask for it most of the time, but I'm going to try. I'm going to be vulnerable to him. I'm going to admit I can't do it all and I'm going to try and be open about how bad I am feeling right now.

Like the amazing, incredible man he is, he just held me and said OK. He helped me find words I needed to say, mostly by repeating, "Tell me. Just say it."

Tuesday night, I remembered to tell myself that: I'm human. Dropping the ball and not juggling all top 5 or 8 priorities is not a requirement. I will be OK.

Wednesday I approached work with a "Let's see how it goes and if its late, oh well" approach. Amazingly, more came together that day than the prior days. Accepting my limits helped me be a more stable and capable worker.

After being fingered to orgasm three times then fucked for at least 10 minutes with legs in all sorts of positions, I feel asleep reflecting on how giving  up my insane need to juggle it all actually made me happy and productive. I realized what I needed: more self-acceptance and I needed to make time for myself.

Source: Wikimedia Commons

Then I remembered what Kendra Holliday tweeted earlier about Maslow's hierarchy of needs: Your goal should be to reach the tip! The only way to do that is be authentic & think for yourself. Ditch the shame!

Fuck. In Maslow's hierarchy, I was living in "Safety" and flirting with Love/Belonging. At work I had Esteem, but I was nowhere near close to the top.  I needed more.

I have a spare room that contains rubbermaid bins and an exercise bike. A dusty, exercise bike. Also, a yoga mat I've never used. The walls are all white. I never go in there. But what if I cleared out the bins and bought some paint? What if I bought a giant pillow for sitting on while I do some calming meditation? What if I painted half the room day and the other half night in a beautiful outdoor setting? What if the theme and purpose of that room was: peace. self-awareness. self-love.

What if I actually made myself a priority and put myself ahead of work -- only to discover what others have told me will happen -- so I can be truly successful as myself in all aspects of life?

I'm going to give it a try.   

No reason to rush

So, what happened to "The Rule"?

If you're unfamiliar with "The Rule" you can catch up on your reading here (where the Rule was introduced) and here (where the practicality of the Rule was questioned).  Here's a quick recap:

The Rule was that we would be together a full year before we even considered the next step of our  relationship: lifelong commitment, marriage, etc. We wanted to make sure we had seen and experienced a year together - all the ups and downs, real life, all those moments of reality that you should experience to really know someone.

Well, that year mark passed a few months ago. So, now what?

Well, we're just avoiding it for now. We do know a few things: this relationship is what we both want, forever. We do plan to get married one day. We want kids. We want to grow old together. We've actually known all this for months and all that rule breaking was hinting at it.

We do know a few things -- like we both want a proposal. I want one for the ultimate, romantic moment with my future, well, you know. I want the ring and sweet words. Why is it important? It just is for me.

It's important for him, too. His prior marriage did not start with a proposal. It was not romantic and not sweet - it was more of a demand from her which he agreed to. He wants to propose and ask me to be his. (Cue the "awwwws").

OK, so what's the wait? Well, its mostly financial at this point. He wants to buy a ring and he just started working after months of unemployment. He needs time. We can't even begin to afford a wedding and I don't want to be engaged for a long period of time. I also don't want to get engaged on day 366 of our relationship, or even day 400. (OK, those dates have passed, but you get my drift.)

We don't talk much about it. We know it will happen. For now, we're just going on in life.

 OK, so I think about it and I know what kind of ring I want. And he's seen it/them. He still calls me Mrs. ____. We can't help ourselves!

I still believe in marriage

What is so wrong with marriage?

Lately, I've noticed this huge trend on twitter where people speak out against marriage. Statements like "Wedding dress - RED RED RED" or "The day you get married is the day you die." I don't know the stories of the people who tweet these. Perhaps they were married once and it was so awful they think the whole idea is for the dogs. (Pets marrying is, I think, a really stupid idea).

I've had a marriage that was less than stellar. From what I've heard in feedback via comments and twitter, a lot of people can relate and have similar stories. Sometimes its a choice made out of stupidity, youth, being blind to reality, or sheer hope that things could change. Maybe you and your partner change so much that marriage just doesn't make sense anymore.

So, is there even a point to getting married?

Yes, I think so. I read a recent blog article by Mr. Masquerade and he is very cynical about marriage and even long term relationships. In his view, it is too restricting and you lose your independence and sense of self. You risk your dreams for someone else. And how can anyone realistically promise to love someone and stay loyal forever, when you don't know who you'll be in 5 years?  It seems that the only risk and reward to marriage is giving up so much of yourself and potentially hating your own life and resenting your partner.

Yes, those are all risks - if you do not choose your partner right or enter marriage/that relationship with the wrong view. I've already promised and then broken that promise before I'm 30. So has my boyfriend.

So why in the world would we do it all again? Well, here are my NUMBER reasons for why I still believe in marriage:

1. We've seen it work. Both sets of our parents have the same story: married too young, grew up very quickly, divorced, and then met their real life partner. Its not the ideal path and its certainly not the only way to choose a partner, but the end result is the same: His parents have been together 35 years and mine have been married 29. Both sets of my grandparents were married for 50+ years until a spouse died We've both witnessed marriage that last and are happy. A happy, loving marriage can happen, so why not for me or you?

2. I've learned from the past. What went wrong in my first marriage does not have to (nor do I intend it to) repeat itself in any future relationships. I've learned from my mistakes. Each person, hopefully, takes some learning from a relationship that did not work out. This is why you date and learn to filter out what you like/don't like about someone and use it for the next person. I learned I need a kinky sex life, flirting and attraction is much more important than I ever thought, and setting a standard for yourself is OK. I didn't deserve someone to make me feel bad about normal parts of my body. I didn't have to stay with someone who took me and my contributions for granted. I wanted someone who would be an equal contributor to our household - equal in terms of effort, not money.

3. I can be realistic. People are, by definition, fallible. At some point someone's going to mess up and you're going to argue. Misunderstandings, miscommunications, disagreements, and arguments are all a part of LIFE. The trouble with a relationship is you have to learn how to work through this and not let it break you. I've seen couples break up over some really stupid things. If any relationship is going to work, you have to understand the whole person: not just the good that you love, but the bad that will come with it. I have flaws, so does my BF. Every day we work around them and every day we make it.

4. It's not about losing, it's about gaining. Going from Ms. to Mrs. does not mean I am giving up who I am. I am bringing all of me into a relationship and I am being joined by someone bringing all of himself. He knows what I want in life. I know what he wants. We both have goals, together and separate. Marriage is about supporting one another in those goals. Yes, that may mean I have to put my goals on hold why he works on something or we work on something together. This delay would not exist if I were single, but I am gaining the opportunity to support the person I love most in the this world to do something they want - how could I not support that? And he will do the same for me. I'm gaining my own cheerleader, support system, advice-giver, listener, cook, cleaner, errand-runner, bill-payer, back-rubber, friend, and travel companion. What am I losing that compares to all that? Not much. 

5. It's easier, legally speaking. Let's be honest: marriage makes everything (most things?) easier, legally speaking. No one questions the "husband" or "wife" when an important decision needs to be made. In case of a medical emergency, that is the person I want by my side and making decisions if I'm incapacitated. I get tax breaks for being married. Even in death its easier to divvy up belongings if you're married and have a legal claim to it rather than "but we've been together for X years." Time together does not a marriage make (common law marriage excluded of course). For those reasons alone, I want marriage -- and its a major reason why gay marriage is important. It's not always about love and romance. It's just practical.

6. It's two against the world. When you're married, you have a partner, another half of a couple. Together you face whatever happens in life. That person is your source of comfort and joy. They are there to take the stress off you if they can just as you would do the same. It's best friends with deep, emotional benefits. To put it in geek terms, you are the tank to the other's healer. It's about partnership and using your strengths to bolster each other and face life decisions together.

7. It's making a public promise. There's a reason why a lot of marriages start with a wedding: there's something beautiful about two people publicly declaring they are going to spend their lives together. I'm not here to say whether you should write your vows to say "forever" or "until we decide otherwise." I've seen both and its really up to you what you want to promise. The thing is, marriage is a contract. It has to be upheld by both parties to be valid. Both parties are saying they will do X and Y and Z and therefore will expect X and Y and Z in return. You decide what X and Y and Z includes. Vows are not one size fits all and not all vows are public. Do you have to promise to love only that person forever? Not if you're polyamourous. Do you have to promise to fuck only your partner forever? Not if you're a swinger. Your marriage, your rules.

8. I promise to try.  Change happens. It's not always easy and it may not be what you expect. As time progresses, so do we. We change in our relationships, in our jobs, in our preferences. As we age our priorities might change. Having a child may introduce a whole new side of you - the parent you - you didn't know existed. This might be where marriage is kicked hardest in the nuts. We've all seen or heard stories of "We grew apart" or "I didn't know him/her anymore." It can happen. What matters is - do you try and work through it, or do you call it a good run and part ways? For some, its better if they separate. Forcing two people together for the sake of someone other than both of them is pointless. But the point of marriage is: did you promise to try? Try to work together, talk it out, experience it together, try to understand, try to improve? Not every try will be a success (sorry, Yoda), but the point will be: you made an effort. You can not anticipate what the next 5 years will do to your marriage. If something goes out of balance, whether with your interest, communication, honesty, or relationship, the changes could be devastating. You have to trust that your partner isn't going to let that happen just as you will try to do the same. Its a road that's walked together, but the path is rarely straight and clear of obstacles. Will you try to try and cross them?

I think that sums it up. I plan to be married again one day.  Ideally, you're best friends with the hottest sex life and only a few bumps in the road. I could go on and on about finding the right partner - but I am not you. Only you can decide what you want. Partnership in life is beautiful.

Marriage isn't for everyone. I can't force you to get married and you shouldn't tell me who I can and cannot marry. Not every marriage should last forever, that's why divorce was such a great idea. Right now, I think the statistics state that about half of marriages end in divorce. That's a huge fail rate. However, that means that half of marriages last. Is it always happy and healthy? No - but that is the fault of both partners. I've experienced the failure of a marriage and I definitely had a share of the blame in that failure.

I have no intention of repeating that mistake. And this time, the relationship is completely different.

The divorce

I remember what it felt like to snap. That moment where you're done with reasoning and excuses. The line is drawn and you step across it, knowing there's no way back. The line where betrayal and pain main any future look brighter than your current experience. It went something like this:

It had been a long day, too long. Micah*, my husband, was already home like he always was, but I knew better than to assume dinner had even been thought of.  I knew he would be home because the part-time "internship" he worked at usually had him home by early afternoon and he was always reading or video gaming when I walked through the door.

Oh, the "internship." Two graduate degrees and he was interning at a start-up that couldn't afford to pay him more than a flat rate that just covered his student loan payments. There was the promise of "it could become successful" and he would hopefully be rewarded for his efforts, but that was a big if in the current economy.

I knew work was hard to find; all of his law school friends were unemployed save one. Two years in a Masters program and three years of law school with zero real world experience made finding work awfully difficult. I regretted our agreement. Back in college when we were dating freshman year and engaged before our junior year, we both knew we wanted grad school. We had decided that, since I was undecided, he would go while I worked and then we'd switch.

Yeah, right. I upheld my end of the deal. I'd found full-time employment two months after graduation. In five years I'd worked my way up through several promotions and made something of myself. I'd also decided what I wanted to do for a real career and had been waiting for my chance. He, on other hand, hated his first grad program and proceeded with law school, only to declare his final year he didn't want to be a lawyer.

When graduation day came, his parents and my parents were there to congratulate him. Micah didn't even thank me. No acknowledgement of the years I'd delayed for him, the hours I'd worked, the life I'd made possible. I'd asked very little of him during those five years. He didn't clean except on special occasions. He rarely cooked. I ran all the errands and handled all the bills. He never worked, even during summer breaks when all he did was watch TV and play video games.

But once grad school was over, there were no job prospects. The "internship" was enough to pay that bill, but what about the rest of our bills? Where was my "break" where I could go to school or take a real vacation that didn't include his parents? It vanished.

I tried, I really did. I asked my mentor and one of the best managers I'd had to dinner to talk with him about finding his passion and how to interview. One of my friends who worked in recruiting in HR interviewed him and coached him for 3 hours plus two pages of typed notes on his resume and ways to approach employers about how his school experience could benefit a real life job.

And then he did nothing. No job searching, not even any review of the information that had been handed to him. What would cost others hundreds he just tossed aside. I sent him a variety of jobs I'd found, trying to figure out what he wanted or, at the least, could handle. Each was met with reasons why he didn't find it appropriate or beneath his level of education.

I walked into the door from my long day of work. It was only a Monday. He had made a promise to me yesterday he would job search today after he neglected it all weekend. I had cried several times over the past few weeks over the stress of my job and stress of keeping up with bills and terror we would never stop this endless cycle of debt. Surely he would have some better news for me today.

As I expected he was playing video games. I was a game geek myself and addicted, but I never let my job or our financial future hang in the balance on a game. I was responsible for a lot. He barely noticed me walk in the door. I set my stuff down and asked about his day. He hadn't gone to work; his back was hurting so he'd stay home to use the heating pad on it.

"So, did you look for jobs today?"

"No, my back hurt. If I could have gone to work I would have looked at jobs."

Snap. There it was. That last string. I walked out of the room, fuming.

So, he can't work and can't online job search, but he can play video games for hours? After he promised? What I felt was hot ice filling up the core of my body. I felt almost disembodied from the moment. I can't believe this is happening. But it was. Six years of marriage and I'm still the only adult here. Six years of my life gone. To nothing.

I had to do this very carefully. I went into the bedroom and quietly packed my smallest suitcase. My mind was a whirl of items I would need to survive several days without every coming back to our apartment. Pillow. Cell phone charger. Brush. Toothepaste. Work clothes. PJs. Underwear. Oh! I almost forgot socks... Everything else I needed was in the office, with him.

I walked in, quiet, not looking at him. I turned on my computer, like I normally would as if I were about to play video games myself. Instead, I booked a hotel room using the reward points I'd been saving for a trip to Europe - we had enough for a full week's stay free. Too late, now they would keep me away from him. I booked the hotel. Cleared browser history. OK. He didn't have the login info and the confirmations went to my email, which he didn't know the password to. Check. It was time to go.

I left the room to retrieve my laptop bag, steadied myself, and then went back into the office and packed as fast as I could. Laptop. Charger. Pens. Done.

"What are you doing?"  Crap!

"I'm packing my bags." Oh no... my voice cracked and tears sprung to my eyes. What I had dreaded for years was about to happen.

"What do you mean, packing a bag? Where are you going?" He noticed my emotional climate. He knew something was terribly wrong.

I couldn't hold back anymore. I erupted into angry sobs. "I'm leaving you!" And I turned and dashed out of the room. My suitcase and purse were already in the entryway, waiting for me. It was time to go.

"Wait... What? No, wait... Why? WHY are you doing this?" He was full of panic.

"Because...." in sobs, "because! You made a choice today. You can't work and you can't job search, but you can play video games for hours?"

I waited. "Well... its different... I mean, no, wait, don't go! STOP PLEASE."

He had grabbed my suitcase. There was no way he could stop me now. "DON'T MICAH. Don't you DARE hold me back. I'm staying somewhere local but I'm not telling you where. Don't you DARE follow me. Don't come and find me." I marched down the stairs, heaving my suitcase, laptop, and purse, barely seeing through the stream of tears going down my face.

He called after me, and watched me march out to my car, pack my bags, and drive away. It was the hardest thing I'd ever done.

I made sure he didn't follow me. I could barely see the road so one hand swept tears away as the other drove the car. When I checked into the hotel, the clerk asked me if I was OK. I was, I said. But I'd just left my husband. And then I broke down. The expression on his face was awful, but I knew it could not compare to the pain I felt at this moment.

Six years of marriage. Nine altogether. My whole life from age 17 to 26 had been entirely his and it had all been a waste.

When I got to my room I let the tears just fall and the loud sobs and screams of anguish racked through me. When I could talk I called my parents to tell them what had happened. They were shocked, but surprisingly supportful. For months I had been telling them of my complete despair over his lack of action and complete disinterest in changing.

I logged into my video game to tell my favorite kinmate why I wouldn't be gaming much this week. He was disappointed and very concerned and I told him the entire story. He wasn't so surprised, he'd heard my frustrations for months in private chat. He supported me and wanted to be there for me. It was a small comfort. Aside from my parents, it was the only friend I told.

Nothing was final. I'd booked the hotel through Friday, but was clueless what would happen next. We had no family nearby. My greatest hope was that, if things stayed the same or grew worse, a co-worker would open her home to me.

Two days passed and I contacted him to let him know I was OK and still local and had no idea what to do. He asked if we could talk and I agreed to meet him in the parking lot of the hotel. He wanted me back and wanted me to stay. Nothing would be fixed if I didn't come back, he argued. He now understood how important it was that he do something else. In the back of my mind, I remember slight shock at this remark and thinking: It took THIS to make you realize that? 

Then again, my voice had fallen on his deaf ears a lot it seemed. It had started with him getting the wedding he and his family wanted and me going along with it as a nice gesture to him. I thought it was a waste of money - and when the day came and I realized it was probably a mistake to get married at 20 one month after college graduation, all I could think was the expense of cancelling it and maybe I just.... owed us and our families for all the trouble to see if it could work.

And then on our wedding night, we were both disappointed. We were both virgins (yes, REALLY), and although we'd done all sorts of kissing and licking, he'd never penetrated me, even with a finger. We rushed into sex, two virgins desperate to find out what the "big deal" was. My words as soon as it was over (about a minute later) were, "It kinda hurt" and "That's it?" I pushed for it twice more that night, hoping that it would get better. Nope. It hurt less each time, but it wasn't that much fun. He could have cared less. We had sex once more on our 10 day honeymoon.

From there we had sex maybe once a week. I found that, instead of being the normally cuddly person I am, I didn't want him to touch me, which was hard in a queen sized bed. We upgraded to a king as soon as we could, and I introduced the "middle" pillow which effectively blocked him from ever touching me. We had sex once a week for about a year, then it dwindled to once a month when I couldn't stand my level of hornyness. I'd gone from masturbating daily as a single woman to orgasming once a month and hating every minute of it.

At year three, I'd come to terms with the fact that I was not attracted to him and probably never had been. We'd never flirted and every attempt he made grossed me out and turned me off so much. I couldn't even bring myself to try; it was too funny and awkward and not in a sexy or good way!

I told him at year 3.5 I wasn't attracted to him. I had to - sex was infrequent and I was having sex dreams about other men and past romantic interests. I was unable to turn my eye from other men and women in public and porn - neither of which he approved of, of course. He wasn't sure what to do about it, and less than six months later he would brag after sex how attractive he was to me (obviously!) and how happy that made him. I never corrected him; it seemed cruel and it would expose the fact I was just using him.

He didn't approve of a lot in sex. I'd tried to introduce toys and very light kink like restraints into our sex life, hoping it would spice it up to give us both the urge and enjoyment. He turned everything away in disgust and fear. I wasn't allowed to buy a vibrator that was bigger than his average penis for fear it would stretch me out too much and decrease his enjoyment.

He hated the way I tasted. He wouldn't perform oral sex unless I had just showerd and he could constantly wipe me out with a wet washcloth and then after a couple of minutes he would be unable to continue due to the gross taste. This was, perhaps, the most hurtful and painful aspect of our marriage. To be rejected on such an intimate level was... numbing. I kept telling myself I could live without it.

But I couldn't. In reality I wanted to enjoy sex, have kink, be able to flirt, be able to embrace my bisexuality and enjoy a woman. I wanted a partner who respected my views.

When he asked me to come back with promises to work on things, I said I needed to think about it. The next day he came over and asked us to start couples counseling to try and work on these problems WE had. He didn't want to lose me.

Counseling. For two years during our marriage I'd gone to counseling for myself. I had no backbone and was completely codependent on whoever I saw as the authority figure. It used to be my parents; now it was him. I had no individual opinion or voice. I assumed a problem was my fault in some way, so it was my responsibility. Counseling helped me change that, ever so slowly. It took years but I came out of it with this blossoming that, ironically, Micah said he loved about me. I was still me, but with my own voice in this world.

A voice that was done tolerating a "partner" who was really a grown child expecting the easy life, it seemed. Marriage counseling was not a place I really wanted to go. I'd researched attraction and everything I saw was about reconnecting what had been there -- but there had been nothing there. No flirting, no romance. Nada.

As his parents and my parents would later argue, how could you be together so long if that were the case? I was seventeen when we started dating. We'd started dating from peer pressure. We hung out enough that everyone thought we were dating, so we'd agreed to see if they were right. We had actual fun together and grew very close, even into best friends.

But best friends do not necessarily make lovers, as I had found out. And forcing yourself to see a lover when you had no interest in one being there was completely backwards and crazy.

I knew I had a choice. But I also wanted to live at home. Hotel living was terrible and left very few lounging and food choices, so I agreed to counseling and went home on Friday.

Over the weekend life continued as it always had. I had private chats with my kinmate, who was encouraging me to divorce. A lot of good points were made, I had to admit. And now that I had seen a taste of freedom and given myself time to think and reflect, it sounded very good.

My kinmate was unashamedly flirting with me in private chat. This wasn't very new or surprising; during voice chat, which came out over my computer speakers, he hit on me and flirted with me constantly. Micah had heard it for months and it didn't bother him; nor did it bother him when I flirted back. That was weird and backwards, but it felt so good to flirt again! And now this private chat was going very naughty... and I didn't stop.

On Sunday night, the kinmate asked to see my picture. I had been driving him crazy for months and all this flirting was making him go crazy. I facebook messaged him. He wrote back that I was a very beautiful woman and he was falling very hard for me.

The kinmate told me Monday night he thought he was in love with me.

On Tuesday, I asked for my divorce. It was easier than leaving Micah the first time. I was more like a cold stone, resolute in my decision now. It was done. I would be free.

Less than four weeks later and a few days before our seven year anniversary, Micah moved out. It took a while since he had no job, barely any money, and no family nearby. We lived together, uncomfortably, those few weeks, avoiding each other. We divided up our belongings and money very fairly. We didn't have a single argument. I went to six counseling sessions with him to help him get closure and understand what was happening. The counselor was set on reconciliation and gave him false hope that, if we promised not to file for a couple months, we might rethink things. I said no constantly to this and filed six weeks later. He was devastated I didn't wait the full eight weeks I had apparently promised to.

In counseling, and several times a week, I explained my history of attraction, self discovery, and the reality of how he was a best friend to me - but not a lover. I pointed out our mutual history and, with apologies, the brutal truth of how much I was disappointed by and hated our sex life. His touch literally repulsed me. He held constant that, with time and counseling, that could change.

All I could think was, Why would I put myself through that? After all this time?

I couldn't. I was done giving, trying, hoping, waiting. When I had known three years prior that I wasn't attracted to him, I cried almost every day in private, knowing it was going to end at some point. I'd given myself years to come to terms with this. By the time I'd said divorce, it was done. I didn't need to heal very much at all.

What hurt the worse was seeing the toll it took on Micah. I had been his first everything. EVERYTHING. I had hidden my feelings from him and let time go by without telling the truth. He may not have been ideal, but I had been completely cruel in my communication and honesty with him about how things really were. I had faked years of being a loving wife. Of course I'd loved him, but not as a wife would.

To this day, I miss him. Nine years is a long time to spend with someone and an almost daily basis. We had so many happy memories. In everything but romance and intimacy we were completely compatible. He had been my closest friend and confidant, my biggest supporter for so many things. When he left a small part of me felt like, and feels like, its permanently broken and damaged. We had killed something beautiful.

Both sets of parents were against the divorce. His family quit talking to me; I couldn't blame them. I found out months later they used mutual friends on facebook to spy on me and report back to Micah on my life. He asked them not to, and them asked me to block them when they wouldn't listen. My parents went from somewhat supportive to completely against my decision. I gave them the PG details of everything that was wrong; they refused to believe it could be as bad as I painted it.

Our divorce was relatively quick and painless. Sixty-one days after I filed, the papers were signed and it was over. No lawyers were needed. Even after all the hurt and anger, we still managed to be decent to each other.

The kinmate, if you hadn't guess, is now my BF. He and I met in-person two weeks after Micah moved out. To most the timing is surprising. It seems too fast, too much of a rebound.

Was I cheating on Micah with the BF? Perhaps. But Micah knew about the kinmate who flirted, listened to it happen, and even asked if I was going to date him after he moved out. I told him the truth: yes, I wanted to do that and probably would. Technically no papers were signed and nothing was official; but paperwork does not have to reflect real life to make something authentic.

I do know this: I never want to experience anything like that again.

*Name changed, of course.

Period sex: oral delights

It wasn't something we talked about before meeting in person. We'd talked about period sex and we'd talked about oral sex, but never about combining the two.

If you're a long-time reader of this blog, you could probably assume why. Prior to the BF, my sexual relationship consisted of very little sex and when it happened, it was as plain vanilla as it can be. With my ex it was mostly missionary, never any toys, and he wouldn't touch me on my period; he hated to eat pussy so much I stopped asking to stop the constant rejection and, even worse, complete rejection of my body when it was "too gross" to do it longer than a minute or two.

When I found out the BF had no issues with period sex and that he loved to eat pussy, I was hopeful it would be true and ecstatic when it was.

But shortly after our sexual relationship had started, it he my period and he laid out the ground rule, "I'm sorry, but I just won't eat your pussy on your period." I could live with that. I'm not sure I could do the same.

So we never talked about it. I got plenty of action on my period since it didn't make him squeamish and about 3 days after my period was over, he would devour my pussy like a starving man. I had no initiative to revisit the idea.

That is, until a few weeks after our anniversary. I was telling him of how some women use the Diva Cup or similar to allow oral sex without the presence of blood and use of a tampon. His reaction surprised me -- he thought that was weird, why not just eat the bloody pussy?

I reminded him of his prior statement, and then he said, "I'll eat your pussy on your period."

I was speechless for about a minute, trying to figuring out where this disconnect had happened. In the end, he agreed he had made that statement but "things had changed" for him.

I have no idea what that means and no amount of asking and trying to figure it out would yield any other answer from him. I found out he has eaten period pussy prior to me, a fact I was unaware of until he offered to do the same to me. So what changed? I have no idea. I've respected his request to not read into it and let it rest at he changed his mind.

But that next period, he ate my bloody pussy. It felt incredible, and I loved it. With us, nothing is ever off limits, and I love that.

TMI Tuesday: Can we just be friends?

1.     Have you ever had a friendship with a someone where you secretly (or not so secretly) desired them?
 Absolutely! In high school I had a crush on several guys who were my friends. I couldn't help it - they were sweet, fun, and hot. I even got the nerve to tell a couple of them I liked them. One of the turned into a pity date (it was sweet but yeah, neither of us wanted more than that one date) and the other turned into a very complicated relationship. I haven't told that story, and I'm not sure I ever will at this point.

2.     Are you prone to jealousy, suspicion or insecurity when your partner spends time with an attractive close friend without you? Why?
No, I'm not. I fully trust him and I don't regulate his friendships or people he talks to without me. We operate on full disclosure, and he has no problems telling me if he thinks she's attractive (and in how many ways) and how things went. I do the same. Neither of us has anything to hide or worry about with our other half being out with anyone attractive. Since we're bisexual, if we had this concern it would have to be with anyone in the world. That's too exhausting!

3.     Has a previously platonic friendship ever bloomed into a sexual relationship?
Yes. This is how my ex-husband and I started. We were platonic friends and started dating from peer pressure of "Well, you hang out enough to be." It was the first sexual relationship for either of us. My mistake was confusing interest in sex for interested in him.  

4.     Have you ever remained close friends with an ex-lover?
No, I'm not really friends with my ex-husband. I tried as he was and had been in that "friend-zone" for a while, but it only ended in him getting vicious with his words from all the hurt I caused him... so that's on hiatus. It's a shame - in so many ways he could be a really good friend. He always was and I'd like him to be.

I've remained friends with that complicated relationship from high school I mentioned in #1. He was my first love but we knew it would never work out, so we refrained from a sexual relationship. I think that restraint helped us stay friends afterwards. We stayed in touch consistently. He came to my wedding, and asked me to meet a potential fiancee as he wanted an old friend's opinion since he didn't have any other older friends in the area to meet her. I'm invited to his wedding in January. I've loved that, despite the high emotional component of our relationship, we readjusted back to friends.

Bonus:  Have you ever developed feelings for a “friend with benefits”? How did it develop, unfold, resolve?
No. I don't think I could do this type of relationship.

How to play TMI Tuesday: Copy the above TMI Tuesday questions to your webspace (i.e., a blog). Answer the questions there, then leave a comment below, on this blog post, so we’ll all know where to read your responses. Please don’t forget to link to tmituesdayblog from your website!

When I want to start having sex

On twitter, @Saynine asked the question - does anyone wait 6 dates or more for sex? He had seen this response on OK Cupid and was a little surprised at the length of time. A very respectful, healthy discussion followed among a large group of people. On the whole, most people had sex earlier than six dates.  Their reason? Sexual compatibility before emotional compatibility.

For me, this just doesn't jive. I can't actually imagine having my priorities that way. Just thinking about approaching life that way makes my brain say, "YOU CAN'T DO THAT! THAT'S CRAZY!" Ok, calm down brain. I'm not asking you to change who you are. At least I know my mental/emotional limits.

I have absolutely nothing against someone who can live life successfully this way - really. I fully respect people are different and can have sex on the first date and end up happy together (just like @saynine and a bunch of other twitter people have). For me, it's just not how I approach life and relationships. That conversation happened early 8 hours ago but I haven't stopped thinking about it.

Why did so many feel comfortable with sex on the first date when it seemed so few responded that that was too soon? Does my background/upbringing impact this more than I realize? Why, exactly, do I feel so strongly against this?

Let's start with a few disclaimers.

1. First, as I've mentioned several times, I've only had 2 sexual partners. My experience on dating and starting a sexual relationship is limited.
2. Also, I've never been on an actual first date. Let me explain: I started dating my first partner in college. We hung out for months and we were around each other so much that people assumed we were dating, so we just started dating under the logic, "Everyone thinks we are, so let's give it a shot and see if it's the good idea everyone else seems to think it is." Yeah, I was an idiot. (In my defense, I was only 17 and had only long-distance dated 1 other person.)  But once we first started "dating" officially, we didn't go out on any official dates. We just continued hanging out like we always had. Then when I started dating the boyfriend, but we met long distance. Our first "date" was more than a month after we started dating long distance. We were already skype masturbating, so sex upon meeting made sense.
3. I grew up in a very conservative, Christian home. Sex was not discussed. You didn't kiss anyone unless you loved them. Sex was only OK within marriage... etc. You know the type. This whole background was a major part of the problem why my first sexual relationship failed: I had no idea what you should be looking for in a potential sexual partner or relationship. I didn't know what to think about, look for, and had no idea there was quite a range of sexual preference and tastes. 

OK, so disclaimers out of the way. Does this explain why I can't imagine sleeping with someone on the first date? No... really, I see my reasoning exists outside of these experiences:

1. I don't trust people that easily. Yes, I'll take you at your word up until a point. However, I have no way of knowing you're telling me the truth when we've only just met. How do I know you're telling me the truth on what you want, are interested in, or your last STD test was as clean as you say it was? How do I know you're not going to use me to get off and not call me again? 
2. Before you even kiss me, I want to know we have chemistry. Flirt with me, show me interest, let's get to know each other. Can we even flirt? I've had men flirt with me and I've been repulsed by it. Just because you're attracted to me, I won't be attracted to you.
3. I have to be attracted to you, and I'm not automatically attracted to someone. Personality is a huge part of attraction for me. I am not attracted to the physical outright. I need time to let my attraction grow.
4. I'm not a fan of casual sex. I prefer sex within a relationship. A relationship doesn't happen overnight or after a date or two. It takes time to develop.
5. Sex can be confusing. I've seen it happen with friends... the sex is great, but the rest of the relationship sucks. It muddies the waters. You can't see clearly and you end up staying in a relationship when you really should end it. I don't ever want to be in that situation. I need to establish the rest of my relationship -- and then bring sex into the equation.

These are all reasons why just meeting someone and jumping into sex or swinging won't work for me. I need time and a relationship first. I need feelings, chemistry, anticipation. I don't want a one time thing. It's not for me. If it works for you, then I wish you safe and enjoyable sex in whatever form of relationship you are looking for. 

Assumptions and respect

A few days ago, Mina started a trend among bloggers and tweeters about what assumptions people make about us. I couldn't think of anything until the next day when some assumptions became very  apparent.

One thing I've noticed is, even though I disclose that I'm in a relationship with someone on my twitter profile, a lot of people assume:

1. We are in an open relationship or, kinky means poly. I don't say whether we are or not, but there is an assumption that we are. Apparently being on twitter and talking about sex means we're both ready and open for any other partners. 
2. I am looking for other partners. This is really an assumption I've seen men make. A lot. This isn't just saying how they think I'm attractive or how they love that I'm open minded, or even how what I post on twitter, tumblr, or my blog is sexy. No, it's completely assuming that I'm not only looking for a date, but that the way I want to meet someone is via twitter and it's totally normal to be asked out within 5 minutes of the first "Hi" they tweeted to me. It's presumptuous and rude, in my opinion. I just met you 5 minutes ago, why do you think this is enough information to go on so we can go have drinks?
3. I want to sext with you. Obviously when I talk about MY sex life, that means I want to send you sexy messages so you can get off, right? No. I don't. I'm not here to be chat with you and help you cum. I post plenty of stuff on my blog that should help you, you don't need my personal interaction.

Now let's talk about respect. Making assumptions and acting on them is a rude. I guess that's a sign of our culture - the female is the prey, the male is the hunter? Is it assumed that because I like sex I'll be a slut for anyone and I'm just ready to jump into bed with ever offer that rolls in the door? This type of attitude isn't sex positive at all. It doesn't treat me with respect or even consider how I might take such an offer - or what your assumptions are about me and any other woman you randomly happen to meet.

Lately on tumblr I've been seeing more posts with captions that share this disturbing trend of disrespecting women:

"My bitch of a girlfriend sucking cock."
"Asian bimbo looks ready to fuck."
"Slut bitch just ready to be used and have her holes filled."

I'm not going to deny there's a time and place for name-calling. I love to use dirty talk myself - during sex where it can be incredibly hot. But these are captions on images of women that you know or don't know (I don't know which is worse). Do you know anything about her? Do you think she wants to be called or likes to be called this by a complete stranger?

Just because her image is out there does not mean its appropriate to label her how you see her. These labels aren't friendly or respectful. You're making assumptions off of one photograph and a fleeting moment. The Asian girl had large, obviously fake breasts - so that makes her a bimbo? And the other girls are obviously enjoying themselves during sex - why does that make them a bitch or a slut?

All I think about when I see these captions or labels on images is how women are seen as tools for one use: sexual gratification. They are dehumanized through words. It shocks me because its so inappropriate and yet I can't say I'm surprised. I'm disappointed, for sure.

But then, is assuming I want to jump you because you said, "Hey, ur sexy" on twitter any different?

Doomed to fail

It is wise to recognize that we cannot control the choices of others and that some need to learn for themselves.

It's just not easy to stand by and watch both happen. It's 5am and I've been awake nearly an hour trying to settle my thoughts and emotions. One of my closest friends is in a relationship that has been a whirlwind of emotional turbulence. There's lots of passion, both in and out of the bedroom. They both have tempers and the stubborn will to go with them.

I realize that, for some people, this type of relationship may work - fight, make up, fight, make up more... but then I hear what happens when they're angry with each other. She says the meanest things that she can think of. He walks out and won't return for hours. He denies there's a problem. She lets it go because she can't stand him not talking to her about anything.

Repeat. Repeat. Repeat.

Then a big fight happens. The kind where you are still arguing 4 hours later and you don't even know what you're arguing about because you've got 4 separate arguments snowballed into one. She called to talk because, twelve hours later, they weren't speaking primarily because he wouldn't talk (his typical pattern). She trusts my relationship advice and wanted my input.

I've been in a crappy relationship where I kept hitting my head against the wall and saying, "Why doesn't it work? I must fix something as I must be the problem." The truth is, I was a part of the problem in not realizing that I deserved better. She is doing the same thing. I can see it so clearly: rationalizing and excusing away behavior because you can't face the brutal truth. The relationship is made of fail.

I offered her two things when we talked the night of the big argument. One, I would kick him to the curb. She may not be a saint in the relationship herself, but someone has to end it and if he's going to not talk, then she may as well have the final word.  Second, the whole pattern sounded like emotional abuse to me.

I'm not an expert in abuse by any means. However, all I heard from her is how he would repeated ignore and deny problems until she initiated conversation where she started admitting fault and was basically desperate to not let things fall apart. She begs him not to ignore her because when he does, she can't eat or sleep. She just waits, unable to move on in life without him. And waits. And waits. Sometimes she waits overnight and well into the next day.

Finally, at some point, he apologizes and agrees to work on things and get better and stop being such a douche, even though she's well aware by now that the pattern is doomed to repeat itself later.

She's not isolated from friends or family, except she's not allowed to have any male friends. No talking. No emailing. The guys relationship status is unimportant, if there's a penis on the person she's not allowed to call him friend. She's cut all of her guy friends out of her life for him. I asked her if she would be friends with them if they ever broke up or weren't in a relationship and without hesitation she answered yes.

When I said, "This sounds like emotional abuse" ... she answered, "You know, that's occurred to me."

Well, if it's occurred to you, then maybe it's the truth. She came so close that night to ending things with him. Three days later they had made up completely. And now, two weeks later I found out they went and purchased a ring for the impending engagement.

It makes me sick to my stomach.... I can almost predict the fail that's going to happen.

I'm pretty sure she's so enraptured in this relationship and the idea of getting engaged and married she'll actually go through with it on this hope and prayer that he will change and that all this happiness outweighs the incredible drama and toll it takes on her emotionally.

I've told her my past and history. It was never abusive but it was definitely unhappy. I hate to see her make the same mistake of tying yourself to someone you shouldn't, Connecting to a mismatch so great that it will only end in a scar of pain once it finally ends.

It's doomed to fail, and all I can do is sit on the sidelines and watch. My heart aches for her already.